by Mills, Shae
Chelan nodded her understanding, but suddenly her mind switched to yet another detail concerning the gown. “Dredon, do you have anything that looks like sequins?” Immediately, she detected another problem with the language. “On Earth, we use them to decorate fancy garments. They are small, shiny objects, disc-like, often with a hole in the middle so that they can be sewn on. They can come in all different colors, and they are usually faceted so that they reflect light.”
Dredon shook his head slowly. “No, sorry, my Lady. None of our dress is ever decorated, man or woman’s, except that of the Warlord’s dress uniform, and that is only with a fine thread of gold.”
Chelan squinted at him. “I didn’t know they had such a thing.” Then, she saw him smile, and a surge of excitement went through her. “What is it?” she asked.
“The sequins—I bet I know what to do for them. May I be excused for a moment, my Lady?”
Chelan smiled. “Yes, of course. I’ll wait.”
Dredon strode from the room, and Chelan resumed working on the dress, sketching the side and back views. He was not gone long before he returned to her with a small box. Stepping up to her, he opened it and presented her with its contents.
Chelan was in awe. They appeared to be sequin-like, but were more akin to beautiful jewels, their many tiny facets catching the light like diamonds. “What are they?” she whispered.
“They are discarded crystals, my Lady. They are the punched-out remnants of a large crystal assembly that focuses the lasers used in the weaponry of the fighters. The crystals are replaced frequently, and where they are attached to the fuselage, these small pieces are stamped out. I can get thousands of them.”
Chelan picked one up and held it over the fabric, its facets concentrating the color of the pink and making the crystal appear to be a shimmering, translucent jewel. To her, they looked like perfectly cut pieces of pink fluorite.
Chelan was still mesmerized by the gems when Dredon spoke. “And now for you.”
She looked up at him, noticing the measuring instrument in his hand. She held very still while he first studied her dress design and then looked to her.
Dredon nodded and then returned his attention to her sketch. “Where are you going to attach the sequins?”
“Along the top of the bodice all the way around. I will also tack the lace to sections of the skirt and overlay those sections with the sequins.”
Dredon remained deep in thought, obviously perplexed by something.
“What is it?” she asked, noticing his discomfort.
He took a deep breath and turned to face her, looking directly into her expectant eyes. “This device, I merely point it at you and it logs what I need to know. The bodice of your gown is very fitted and the material relatively inflexible, especially with the crystals attached. If I scan you with the gown you are wearing, the material will distort the measurements ever so slightly.”
Chelan bit at her lip, realizing that he was right and reminding herself of their culture’s ease with nakedness. “Of course,” she whispered shyly. She took a few steps away from him as she garnered her courage. She slid the straps from her arms and slipped the gown down around her shapely hips. Then she took a deep breath and pushed it further, the soft material pooling at her feet as she faced him.
Dredon had measured countless women, but never one such as Chelan. Her full breasts stole his breath, and suddenly he wanted to touch her in every way. He shuddered and tried to concentrate on his task. He pointed the device at her and pressed a button.
Dredon hesitated. He could detect a subtle trembling to her body, and his instincts told him to take her and hold her, but his mind chained his body into submission. He swallowed hard, attempting to moisten his parched throat. “I need you to raise your arms above your head.”
Chelan looked as though she was going to faint from exposure, but she complied, turning her head away and closing her eyes. Dredon stepped close to her and knelt, once again aiming the scanner. He was immediately struck by the goosebumps that erupted on her soft, white skin, but then his body was seared through by the heat of need as her beautiful nipples hardened before him in the cool air.
“Turn,” he whispered, his voice deeper than he expected. Chelan complied, but he paused. He looked at her; her profile was even more stunning, and her long hair flowed down her back seductively. Her large breasts were perfect, her dark nipples erect and enticing. Her frame was slender, her stomach flat and taut. And her legs were long and exquisite, perfect for parting and …
His breath caught. He never wanted to take his eyes off her … and he wanted so much more. “I need you to bind your hair,” he rasped.
Chelan lowered her arms, reflexively hugging her breasts as she looked to him bashfully. “I’m sorry. I can raise it, but I don’t know how to secure it.”
Dredon’s jaw tightened. He was not sure if he should thank Dar or curse the Warlord for this assignment. He took a deep, calming breath, attempting to gain some semblance of control over his rampant desire. He rose and stepped behind her, gathering her silken mane, his fingers brushing over her neck and shoulders. Twisting it in his hands, he coiled it on top of her head and tucked the ends in, binding it as he knew how to do with his own. Then he looked down her sinuous back to her pretty bottom. He wanted to pull her to him, to reach around and hold her soft breasts, to stroke her nipples as he slipped his thickness inside … He squeezed his eyes tight. What he really wanted to do was to push her to the floor and take her completely, pounding into her and devouring all he knew she could offer.
Dredon’s hands lingered on her hair, and he exhaled slowly, willing the swell between his legs to abate. He took a step back, and then another, his battle nearly lost. Her skin was porcelain white, his brief touches over her telling him that she was velvet and silk … everywhere. Her shoulders were fine, her curves mesmerizing, and her scent … her scent ultimately tamed the virile male within him. She was sweet, but there was the unmistakable tinge of fear emanating from her pores.
Chelan held very still, acutely aware of the warrior’s state. She had felt his hot breath on her cool skin, his eyes on her flesh, and she could hear his restrained breathing. For reasons she was well aware of, she knew that it was unwise to move unless directed. He was, as with all of them, a finely tuned predator, and she did not want to become his prey.
Dredon finally forced himself to tend to his task, and he knelt again. He took a reading and then spoke. “Raise your arms,” he instructed, and Chelan did. He scanned her back once more, and then moved to her other side to scan her profile again. Then he stood and turned away.
Chelan slipped her gown up quickly and watched the man struggle with his internal turmoil. She knew that, in his world, it would have been perfectly acceptable for him to offer to take her sexually right then and there. He was ordered to look after her needs and wants, and he had no demands other than hers. In his world, if he had asked or if she had wanted, she could have responded to him and they would have made love, and no one would have been wronged, and no one would have judged them in any way for their act. It would have been simple, fast, and oh so pleasurable, but it was not her way.
As it was, being in love with the three men who had cared for her for so long and so intently was almost more than she could handle. Though she had held out and finally given herself completely to Korba alone, she had also promised to someday embrace the same degree of physical love with Fremma and Dar. It was their way, and if she could become truly at ease with it, she would follow through. But she would engage Dar and Fremma because of her deep and abiding love for them. To be with anyone else, to accept the Iceaneans’ ability to casually partake in the offerings of the flesh as they so often did, was beyond her capability. She was still of Earth, and though she had tackled so many of her deficits, becoming a strong, confident, and sexually free woman with her three men, she simply would not take any man casually.
But for now, Chelan sought to ease Dredon’s unfamiliar dil
emma, and she spoke. “You know,” she began lightly, “if your people would learn to adjust to a decent temperature range rather than living in constant refrigeration, I wouldn’t have to put up with constantly being assaulted by goosebumps.”
Dredon turned to her, her words immediately relieving his tension. “Oh, I don’t know. They rather become you, my Lady,” he commented appreciatively.
Both of them chuckled, and Chelan felt the strain between them leave. “Now what?” she asked, her excitement returning as the flush on her skin receded.
“Well, that depends on what you wish to do, and what you want me to do.”
Chelan thought momentarily. “Originally I had intended to make the entire garment on my own, but time is of the essence, especially with attaching the sequins. And I don’t want to take up too much of your time.”
Dredon smiled. “You have all my time, my Lady. One of the reasons Commander Dar selected me was because of an injury I received on the Rigilean mission. I’ll be out of commission for quite some time, so you have no worries.”
Chelan’s smile suddenly faded, and her concern rapidly built into anxiety. “In the en suite, when I—”
“It’s okay,” he assured quickly. “Your embrace did me no harm. I would have let you know if it had.”
Relief washed over her. “Thank goodness.” She took a moment to still her pounding heart. “Well, as for the gown, I would like to do a lot of it, but Korba knows nothing of it, and my long absences from the Command Center would not go unnoticed.” Chelan squirmed slightly. “Besides, he reads me like a book, and if I were forced to explain my disappearances, I would be discovered.”
“Well, you are welcome to do as much or as little as you wish, my Lady. In the meantime, I have to prepare the material. Once that is done, I’ll make arrangements to meet you again, and you can supervise the layout and the cutting. I’ll need you directly for the fitting of the pieces.”
Chelan nodded. “You’ll go through Dar, I assume?”
“Yes. He has constant knowledge of Korba’s whereabouts, so our little clandestine meetings can continue unimpeded.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He bowed slightly. “I will take me leave now, if you permit?”
Chelan’s brows rose in response to his formal request, and she hesitated. “Of course,” she finally uttered.
Suddenly, the doors opened, and Chelan froze. But her fear of discovery quickly dissipated as she looked up into a familiar face. “Fremma,” she breathed, her heart skipping several beats. She remained very still, afraid to touch him lest she hurt him, knowing his recent wound was not yet fully healed.
Fremma paused momentarily, a warm smile on his face. Finally, he roused himself from staring at the beauty before him, and he looked at Dredon. The two men nodded to one another.
Fremma’s eyes returned to Chelan as Dredon hurried to collect his fabric samples. Then the young warrior turned to her and nodded. “Dar will be in touch soon.”
“Thank you,” she reiterated happily.
Dredon slipped past Fremma and bade him good-bye, and the doors closed.
As Fremma walked toward her, Chelan’s stomach churned at how he hugged his right arm stiffly to his side so as not to disturb his wound. The warrior had taken a blade to his chest not so long ago, and all because of her own stupidity. But she quickly capped any distress that threatened to surface. “Oh, Fremma, are you the mystery guest who Korba promised me?”
“You bet,” he returned as he hugged her to him gently with his left arm.
Chelan’s vision misted with joy. She took him by the hand and led him over to the bed, sitting softly beside him.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes, my Lady,” he whispered.
“You should be lying down,” she stated firmly, deep concern edging in on her words.
Before he could respond, Chelan jumped up and stacked the pillows at the head of the bed. She beckoned to him.
Fremma smiled and obliged, his body still weak. And besides, he could not pass up her invitation.
Chelan sat down next to him as he nestled into the pillows. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispered.
He reached for her and pulled her down to him. He hugged her head to his abdomen as his left hand stroked her, his eyes squeezing tight in response to the feel of the pretty woman once again in his arms.
Chelan lay upon him for a long time, her arms surrounding his waist while his caress melted her from within. Finally, she rose and moved closer to him. Tentatively, she reached for the top of his jacket, then ran her finger gently down the front of it as she watched him carefully for signs of pain. When it was open to her, she parted it, exposing his healing wound.
Chelan couldn’t stop the small gasp that escaped her lips. She looked closely at the thin, blade-sized scar, just slightly to the right of his breast bone; his skin was badly discolored from the bruising imposed by the knife’s brutal impact. She shuddered in horror as she looked at the proximity of the wound to his heart, if indeed it had actually missed it.
Fremma pulled her to him once again, settling her head on his left breast, comforting her in her time of renewed anguish.
Chelan remained silent, thinking of how close she had come to losing him and wondering how she would have coped had he died. But what shook her the most was the thought that he had willingly taken Korba’s knife for her, and she knew that the guilt she would have felt had he died would have killed her just as surely as if the blade had struck her.
They remained quiet for a long time, both listening to the soothing sounds of their rhythmic breathing. Fremma finally moved his right arm stiffly, and he reached for her face, his fingers tracing tenderly down her soft cheek. Chelan pressed her body tightly into him, seeking his warmth, his security, and his forgiveness.
Fremma looked down at her as she huddled into him. His eyes coursed over her slender shoulders, down along her body to her shapely hips and the glimmer of silky thigh exposed by the gown, and he wished he were stronger. Slowly, he reached for her chin and tilted her head up to him. Chelan smiled at him, and he nearly dissolved at the mere sight of her pretty, fawn-like eyes. Almost as though she had read his thoughts, she stretched up to him, parting her lips and encouraging his touch.
Fremma moaned as his lips took hers, his breathing immediately quickening, his pain temporarily forgotten. Her tongue entered his mouth, and he felt her quiver, her subtle motions sending waves of desire throughout his body.
Chelan could feel his heated response, and she wanted to take him, but she knew she could not. She could already feel the stiffness in his muscles as they betrayed the pain he was valiantly trying to ignore.
Finally, she parted from him, afraid of hurting him.
Fremma let his head drop back to the pillows, wincing at his discomfort.
Chelan moved away from him and ran to the en suite. She rinsed out a cloth with cool water and returned to him swiftly. Tenderly, she wiped his face and neck, relieved that his breathing was returning to normal.
“You take such good care of me, my Lady,” he uttered, his eyes closed.
Chelan smiled as she continued to dab at his forehead. “I ought to, you fool. As soon as I leave you, you try to get yourself killed.”
Fremma looked up at her and smiled. “For a good reason, my Lady,” he answered quietly. He reached for her slender neck, and his fingers traced her scar. “It seems that neither of us was destined to walk through life unscathed.”
Chelan smiled at him and then watched his face sober. His eyes followed down her smooth skin to her breasts, and she stilled. His hand moved stiffly to her shoulder, and she closed her eyes, feeling him slip the strap of her gown down. She was not sure what he was attempting, but she would deny him nothing as long as he did himself no harm.
He went to reach for her other shoulder, but she ducked away from him and rose to her knees. Shyly, she slipped the strap off herself. She looked deep into his luminous eyes, the desire within t
hem unmistakable. She peeled the gown down slowly and exposed her soft fullness to him.
Fremma looked at her longingly. “Come here,” he whispered.
Chelan oozed up beside him and kissed him softly on the lips. This gentle warrior had nurtured her from the beginning, sharing himself with her, easing her into his world’s ways. Through all their time together, their days of learning, laughter, and play, and their nights together bound by love, he had never, ever pushed her to engage in more than she was willing. Though they had shared so much, soaring through the heights of passion and wading through the depths of despair, she had never allowed him to give her that one, final, deeply intimate gift of pleasure. That act she had reserved solely for her Warlord, his Commander. But since then, she had promised Fremma all, an act of love so powerful she was nearly overwhelmed at the thought.
He reached for her breast; his soft caress caused her to tremble. She stared at him as he gazed at her fullness, watching his own hand as he kneaded her tenderly, brushing over her hard nipple and forcing it to peak further. Then he silently urged her to move up the pillows, and she hugged into his head as his lips took her, suckling her exquisitely. She let her head tip back, her soft folds flooding with moisture and her body floating in ecstasy.
Then her head snapped forward as she felt him touch her thigh, and she watched as his hand trailed slowly up her gown. She exhaled sharply, knowing he wanted to touch her at long last, though she feared for his wound. But his persistence quelled any feeble resistance she was able to mount, and she let her head drop back in desirous submission. When his hand slipped between her thighs, she parted her legs for him, allowing his fingers to dip into her moist, welcoming folds for the first time.
Fremma was electrified by her readiness, and the feel of her silky wetness on his fingers seemed to rob him of all logical thought. The unhindered ease at which she parted for him severed his restraint and sent him beyond control. But as he drew in a deep and unconstrained breath, a dagger of searing pain ripped through his chest. He withdrew from her instantly, groaning as he clutched at his wound.
