by Tina Gayle
Her rebellious nature fought him every step of the way. First, with how she should’ve cut her hair and then with her not opening the lily door. It didn’t take a royal council member to tell him she’d be a challenge. He smiled. She’d also be an interesting mate to have.
Tonight, he’d come too close to losing her forever. The idea of never having her pricked at his heart. Could she forgive him for letting someone close enough to threaten her life?
Unable to keep from touching her, he brushed a curl away from her face. Her wild hair wove its silky softness around his fingers, fighting him like she did. Nothing about her came easy. She wouldn’t surrender. Each victory, he’d have to earn.
Even the idea of him playing with her hair would annoy her. He toyed with her bangs a few more moments, then shifted to her feet, and undid the straps of her shoes. His fingers glided over her ankles, and he examined her delicate feet. Was she ticklish? He caressed the ridge of her arch, but she gave him no reaction.
On his leisurely path up her leg, the smooth satiny skin slid beneath his hand. No hair grew in his path. For some reason, Royal women lacked hair on certain parts of their body. He didn’t grasp why. He just appreciated the fact.
The thin fabric of the skirt blocked his touch. Stihl slid his hands below her hips and gently rolled her over onto her side. The zipper of her dress teased him all evening. Now, he parted the material with a gentle tug. With the creamy skin of her back exposed, he shoved the fastener to its home at the base of her spine.
Rolling Marohka back over, Stihl slid the dress down her legs. Once free from her legs, he threw the dress across the room and stared at her naked body. The sight of her beauty heightened his awareness, and his pants grew tighter. He reminded himself this wasn’t about his lust. She couldn’t respond, and he wouldn’t take her without her participation. He wanted her on fire when they shared their bodies, not out cold.
The smart thing to do would be to cover her and go for a climb on the side of one of Central City’s buildings, a slow descent down the stones to curb his desire and wear him out.
Spellbound, he forced his fingers to undo the buttons on his shirt. The soft slope of her breasts, the curve of her waist, the tricolor hair between her legs, she held him prisoner with her beauty. His gaze landed on her breasts. He examined the full globes and rosy peaks. He wanted to close his lips around them.
In his fantasy, he envisioned her warm, silky skin a breath away from his mouth. He directed the picture in his head so his tongue licked the tip of her breast. It hardened into a tight bud against his lips. The perceived taste of her luscious skin played over his taste buds, and he imagined drawing her nipple into his mouth. His mind offered his other hand free rein to knead her other breast.
She moaned.
Stihl’s eyes sprang open. To his surprise, her nipples peaked in response to his imaginary kisses. Yet, she wasn’t awake. The connection between them sizzled in the air.
With unsteady hands, he tugged his shirt from his pants and discarded it. Were they linked? Could they share each other’s desire without physical contact? Could he enter her thoughts? Would he be able to learn if she blamed him for tonight’s events? The idea intrigued him.
Maybe if he enticed her into enjoying his touch by seducing her mind, it’d help her adjust to the physical side of their relationship. She lacked experience, but this might be a way to show she had nothing to fear. He undressed, slid into bed, and closed his eyes. With his hands resting on his chest, he centered his thoughts on Marohka. He focused on drawing her into his dreams.
She had admitted his touch bothered her, so he moved slowly. In his mind, his hands slid softly over her delectable curves. Making his strokes light, he drew her closer and closer until she rested quietly next to him. Her hand on his chest, her head on his shoulder, her breast pressed against his side, and a leg slid along his thigh.
Each breath she inhaled appeared quiet and peaceful. A dreamy soft haze surrounded her in his musing. He drew the pictures in his mind and released his hand to take a leisurely path down the center of her back to the base of her spine. With each caress, he shifted her farther up onto his body until she lay across his chest.
Her thoughts blended with his. He viewed the scene through her perspective. Her hands flowed over the ridge of his shoulders. Her legs straddled his waist. She rose off his chest. In her eyes, he read desire. The same hunger ate at his loins. Directing his part of their joint fantasy, he cupped the back of her head and guided her mouth down to his. He tasted the flavor of her lips.
“Stihl . . .” The breathy whisper reminded him of her being with him in his head, but in the physical sense, they weren’t even touching. He slid his hand across the sheet and laid his over hers. Energy shot up his arm. A sharp wave of searing need washed through his senses.
* * * *
Marohka trembled with longing. The hot, wet hunger of Stihl’s kisses left her stunned. The physical connection to him appeared to be real. Yet, the pictures running through her mind had to be a dream. No man could want her that much.
In her fantasy, she broke free of responsibility and responded to his touch. Her mouth tasted the moist male flavor of him with each deep stroke of her tongue. Her breasts snuggled against his chest. His warm body caressed her stomach, hips, and thighs with heat. The beat of his heart matched hers.
She couldn’t get enough. Her hands raced over his chest and shoulders with hurried, teasing strokes. Each line of his hard contour fed her appetite for more. Her senses soared with a need to become a part of this man, to have him buried inside her. The same desire glowed in his deep brown eyes. His gaze seared a path down the center of her body. She wondered if qualtrilium would melt under their heat.
The scene shifted. Stihl’s mouth moved to her breast. His lips tugged at her nipple. A deep raging hunger threatened her control. Overwhelmed, she redirected the action in her dream by taking Stihl’s face in her hands.
The dark, velvety softness of his eyes sucked her into a vortex of doubt. Fear clouded her mind, and the picture shifted. A fierce storm howled out a warning. A small object pulsing in her hands caused the vision in her head to change again. This time, Stihl stood in front of her with his hands cupped and dark red blood dripping between his fingers.
Marohka looked closer. In the center of his hands rested her heart, bruised and bleeding, its rhythmic tempo stopped.
* * * *
A number of zitons later, Marohka struggled to turn over, but a heavy burden held her in place. Fear pounded through her chest. She fought against her dark dreams.
She opened one eye and focused in on her surroundings. A woodsy scent floated through the air. A blank wall stood across from the bed where she lay. On a nightstand, a clock recorded the early morning time. Neither explained where she was.
Lifting and turning her head, she peered over her shoulder and found the source of the problem. A thick muscular arm lay across her back with a warm hand clamped to her left hip. Unruly brown hair circled the head which rested on the pillow next to hers.
Disoriented, it took an iton before she clued in to the person holding her down. With recognition, came the shock of finding herself naked in bed with Stihl. Her mind scrabbled for an explanation.
Was the wine from last night the reason behind her lying in bed with Stihl this morning?
Pictures rolled through her mind, and she recalled the events from the night before. They’d been at the theatre. Then somehow, they were in Stihl’s bedroom. Her memory flashed the imagines of Stihl undressing her, the heat in his eyes when he caught sight of her naked. She’d wanted to cover herself, but for some reason, her hands wouldn’t move. Paralyzed, she’d endured his warm gentle touch on her skin until her blood had boiled with desire.
Her heart accelerated in reaction to her thoughts. The searing intensity of his lips sent a moan of desire from her lips. The melting sensation in the pit of her stomach seduced her mind into wondering what had happened between them. He could
’ve taken her. She wouldn’t have fought him.
“Did he?” she whispered.
No, a voice screamed in her head.
Using all her effort to free herself, Marohka shifted her legs to the edge of the bed. Slowly, so as not to wake him, she let his arm and the blankets skim across her back. She dropped onto the floor and out of bed. Once free, she leaned against the wall and stared at Stihl. She brushed multi-colored strands of hair out of her eyes with disgust.
Had he taken her without her consent? She didn’t feel any different, but would she, if she wasn’t conscious? Her mind grappled with the thought, trying to come to terms with the idea. Stihl hadn’t done anything to indicate he’d take such liberties. Even though by Lustralia law, he had the right.
She stared at the muscles in his back. An image flickered, but wouldn’t focus in her mind. She shook her head and glanced at her hands. The budding design on the back of her left hand sent panic skittering through her system.
How could he? He started the blending process.
Anger lit a fire. She jumped to her feet, stalked around the bed and stared down at his resting form. Her fists clenched at her sides. She shook with rage, and plans of how to extract the greatest amount of revenge sped through her head. The marks he’d developed on her hand meant her chance for freedom now lay in ruins. Her logical mind raced with options. Claw marks across his back, a blow to the head, a few well-aimed punches. She wanted to do something to cause him pain.
Her hands tingling with readiness, she leaned forward to grab him around the neck. A glimpse of his left hand alleviated her panic. No stain graced it. Recognition dawned. She hadn’t marked him. Relief rushed through her system. The bonding process wasn’t complete until they both shared their symbol and their bodies with the other. She still stood a chance of escaping.
The dark design on the back of her right hand stood out. The transfer of her symbol hadn’t begun. He might’ve started his part of the process, but only she could complete it.
After a few deep breaths, Marohka regained control of her anger and stepped backward. The battle wasn’t lost. She could still argue they weren’t suited for each other.
Her gaze skated over the muscles in his back, the curve of his butt hidden under the blankets to his wide feet. He possessed the body of a warrior, strong and powerful. A tingling sensation started in her breasts. She recalled lying on top of him, the firm muscles of chest caressing her nipples. Incredibly appealing, his body called to hers.
Her hand sprang forward to brush back his hair that fell over his eyes. She paused in route, suspended by the call of duty to her job. What about the Trisar Mine?
Now would be a great time to go to the Central City office and check out the core samples. With Stihl asleep, it might be her only chance to run her errand. To avoid temptation, she turned and headed for the dressing area. In a few itons, she changed into her new clothes and stepped out of the bedroom. The door slid quietly closed.
She glanced at the front door. Cyd warned her about their security system. It would sound if not disengaged before the door opened. He hadn’t divulged the code, probably because he distrusted her.
Sitting at the computer in the living room, she searched for Stihl’s bank account log. She found it, wrote down his account number and the amount of the purchases he’d gotten for her yesterday. After a quick transfer of funds, she paid her debt.
After sending a few VIMs to coworkers, she drafted a virtual interpersonal message to her father. He and her mother would want to know she was all right.
“Of course,” she muttered, “I could call them.”
Not with all the questions they’d ask. By writing them, she could tell them what she wanted and delete what she didn’t.
Once her computer tasks were done, she logged off and turned. A call for caffleck drew her to the service area. She milked a few drops of brown liquid into her cup. The rich aroma cleared her foggy head. She wondered how she could escape the apartment for a few zitons.
“Well, good morning,” Cyd said from behind her. “How are you feeling?”
Marohka turned and found the answer to her problem. With a smile, she brushed her hair back. “I’m fine.”
“I see you’ve found the supply of caffleck. I thought you and Stihl would sleep the day away.” Cyd picked up a cup.
She stepped to the doorway and left her cup on the counter. “I don’t require a lot of sleep, especially when I need to get things done.”
“Like what? We did all Stihl’s errands yesterday.” Cyd pushed a few buttons on the caffleck machine. “Did he come up with something else?”
“No, but . . . I have a few things to do before I leave town. I thought maybe, if I promised to be back in a ziton, you’d disarm the alarm system for me.”
“Why don’t you ask Stihl?”
“He’s asleep.”
“No way. I can’t let you leave without Stihl’s approval.” Cyd shook his head. “I’ve already lost you once.”
Marohka stared at the floor and weighed her options. She hated her choices. “What if you went with me?”
He frowned.
She rushed to reassure him. “It won’t take us long. He’ll never even miss us.”
“It’s not a good idea.”
“Are you telling me I’m a prisoner?” She walked back into the living room. “I can’t leave unless Stihl agrees to it.”
Cyd followed, his cup positioned in his hand. “You’re not a prisoner. Stihl is trying to keep you safe.”
She stepped to the door and glanced at Cyd. She had to force him into complying with her plan. If he wanted to play rough then she’d raised the stakes. With her hand on the doorknob, she made her stand. “Fine, I’ll just open the door anyway and take off.”
“Wait, what about your agreement with Stihl not to skip out?” Cyd stepped forward.
“I’ll come back. But in the meantime, you’ll have to deal with a sleep-deprived man who is sure to be angry because you didn’t stay with me.”
The undecided frown on his face forced her to push harder.
“What’s it going to be? I head out and you chase me in your pajamas? Which, I bet, doesn’t hold your ID card?” Marohka slid her hand in her pocket drew out a thin piece of plastic. She waved it in the air. “Or do I wait, and you accompany me?”
“Be reasonable, Marohka,” Cyd said, taking several steps forward. “Stihl will slit my throat if he wakes up and you’re gone.”
She turned the doorknob. Cyd stopped.
“Come any closer, and I’m out of here.”
Cyd slammed a fist into the pocket of his robe. “What’s so important?”
“I need some information about the Trisar Mine from my office here in Central City. It’ll only take a few itons.”
Cyd frowned and then relented. “If I go with you, will you promise to behave and not run away?”
“I told you. I’ve already given my word.” She released the door handle. “Don’t make it any tougher than it has to be. I’ll get my coat and wait right here until you’re dressed. Then we’ll leave.”
Cyd stepped to his door and paused. A scowl marred his face. “Stihl’s not going to like it.”
“If you’re with me, I don’t think he’ll mind. It’s me he doesn’t trust.”
Cyd shook his head and brushed his blue hair back over his shoulder. “Funny, he said close to the same thing about you.”
He walked into his room. Marohka waited an iton, then rushed to her bedroom door and opened it quietly.
Cyd was right. Stihl wouldn’t like her leaving. Not necessarily because he objected to her working, but more because he hated for her to be out of his sight, much less out of his bed. Marohka glanced at the man in question. She couldn’t figure him out at all, gentle and patient one iton, yet stubborn and demanding the next. What did he want?
She had to do this. So, theoretically, if he didn’t mind her working, then he shouldn’t object to her going to the office. A reasonable
assumption. She gathered her coat and walked back out to the living room. They wouldn’t be gone long. He’d probably sleep the whole time, anyway.
When Cyd reentered the room, she glanced at him. Dressed in casual black slacks, a blue shirt a shade lighter than his hair, he looked prepared to accept his fate. He threw his jacket over his arm and started for the door. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.” She slipped on her gloves and coat while she waited for him to disarm the security system and open the door.
“Then let’s get this over with.” He strolled down the hall.
Chapter Seven
“We need to go down to the dirt depository.” Marohka pointed to the lift to Cyd’s right. “It’s a few floors underground.”
