by Tina Gayle
Starting with Marohka.
Angry and worried, he walked over to retrieve his ECD and picked it up off the floor. An electronic beep sounded from the door. The lock released. He turned. Cyd ushered Marohka through the doorway. She caught sight of him and paused for a fraction of an iton. Displeasure lit her face.
“Glad to see you’ve finally decided to come home.” He stepped forward.
The bitter taste of waiting for her to return exhausted his patience for excuses. She must have coerced Cyd into taking her out. If he needed to run out, he wouldn’t have taken her. That meant Marohka instigated their little adventure.
“We thought since you were asleep, we’d run a few small errands.” Cyd helped her with her purchases and coat. “We’ve only been gone a little over a ziton. After the late night you had, you couldn’t have been up more than a few itons.”
“Wrong, I got a call a while ago.” Stihl remained calm, masking the anger he felt.
“From whom?” Cyd threw his coat over the back of the couch.
Stihl studied his blue-haired friend. Cyd slumped down onto the couch. His casual attitude ruffled Stihl’s already jagged nerves.
“Dad. He called to discuss some business.” Stihl turned to see Marohka enter their bedroom and shut the door.
“What type?” Cyd leaned forward, his hands flexing into fists.
“The usual, he’s trying to get me to change my mind. Like that’s going to happen.” Stihl dismissed the subject. “Right now, I want to know where you’ve been.”
“Marohka needed to run into her office for some information on the Trisar Mine.” Cyd stretched back on the couch. “I thought it might be a good idea, seeing as we’re heading out there today.” He shoved a pillow under his head. “Even met another man who fancied himself as Marohka’s husband, but she couldn’t stand the sight of him.”
“Just like all men,” Stihl said.
Cyd nodded his head around a yawn. “On the way back, we stopped by one of the shops down at the plaza. Marohka wanted to pick up a heavier coat for our trip.” A worried frown marred Cyd’s face. “By the way, she wouldn’t let me pay for it.”
“What is it with this girl?” Stihl slapped the arm of the couch. “No matter what I do she’s determined to be difficult.”
Cyd stood back up. “I think you know what the problem is. She’s doing everything in her power to make sure you don’t want her as your mate.” Cyd pointed to the bedroom. “You need to show her differently. I’m headed to my room where I plan to sleep for a few more zitons.”
Stihl didn’t budge.
“If you shut your door, I shouldn’t be able to hear a thing.” Cyd’s bedroom door closed, and music filtered through the walls before Stihl stepped forward.
With a deep breath, he locked the bedroom door behind him then turned to see Marohka walk in from the dressing area. She stopped when she caught sight of him.
“Stihl, we weren’t gone long.” She widened her stance and stood ready to fight. “There’s no reason to be upset. After all, I’m not a prisoner. Yesterday, you let me run errands with Cyd. So I figured it’d be all right if I ran a few today. What’s the big deal?”
Stihl advanced. Without retreating, she shifted into a defensive pose. A stubborn glint sparked in her eyes.
My lady had guts, no cowering for her. Changing tactics, he lifted his hand and gently brushed a strawberry-blonde strand of hair away from her face. He cupped her cheek. “You could’ve left a note. I was worried.”
The sound of soft mellow music drifting through the walls filled the silence. Marohka’s expression turned from wary to apologetic. Her lips softened. Then she licked them nervously. Drawn to her mouth by the movement, he wanted to sip the moisture from them, to discover the warm sweet taste just beyond the center. His loins swelled. She lit a fire within him so easily.
“We thought you wouldn’t wake up until after we returned,” she whispered and licked her lips again.
He stepped closer and wrapped her face in both his hands. Her eyes closed. Needing no other encouragement, he covered the distance to her lips. Slowly, with infinite care, he nibbled on the edge, not giving in to his plundering desire, but gently building her need for more.
The feeling of cloth against his wrists instead of skin interrupted his pursuit. Confused, he glanced at the point of contact. The gloves covering her hands puzzled him, and he shifted back and clasped her wrists. “Why are you wearing gloves?”
Her eyes flickered with an unidentifiable emotion.
“My hands are cold.” Marohka’s ready words and rigid shoulders ignited a suspicious idea to flash through his head.
Not understanding her reaction, he cautiously observed her response. Her green eyes turned stormy. Her mouth formed a straight line. “What’s the big deal about me wearing gloves?”
He released her right hand and worked the glove off her left.
“Would you stop it?” Marohka argued, stepping back and slapping at his arm.
The glove slid off. Stihl caught sight of the reason for her distress. He held her wrist tightly, making it impossible for her to gain her freedom. “How long were you hoping to hide this from me?” Stihl demanded. He turned his wrist over checking his left hand for marks. “You might not have marked me, but, whether you like it or not, the blending process has begun.”
She struggled, attempting to shove him away. “It doesn’t mean anything. We both have to exchange marks for the blending process to be complete. Now, let me go.”
His “no way” answer hit a nerve, and she glared at him. A picture of her knee hitting his groin flashed through his head.
Reacting quickly, he used an evasive maneuver by jerking her up against his chest. “What’s the game, Marohka?”
“I don’t play games.”
She continued to fight and wouldn’t stay still. He tightened his grip. “Let’s see.” Stihl circled the narrow curve of her waist, thinking. “Now, I get it. You paid me back for the clothes I bought you yesterday. Then, you wouldn’t let Cyd pay for your new coat today. Are you hedging your bet? Hoping the council will let you out of our marriage because I’m not providing for you?”
“I don’t need you buying me clothes,” Marohka growled.
She wiggled in his arms, vying for her freedom. Her full breasts brushed his chest. “Marohka, be still,” he said sternly, “unless, you want to end up flat on your back on that bed.”
His warning must have registered because she stopped fighting. “Look,” he continued, “I know blending is not on your agenda, but get used to the idea. You’re my mate. Like it or not, we’re going to blend.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Marohka snapped. “Release me.”
Stubborn opposition swam in the sea green depths of her eyes. He didn’t have time to figure out exactly why she fought their blending, but an idea formed in his mind. “I might be willing to release you—if you perform the touché ceremony.”
She jerked back. “That outdated ritual hasn’t been performed for years. I don’t even know how to do it.”
“It’s not difficult. From what I’ve read, there are only two rules. One, I can’t touch you.” He studied the narrow slant of her eyes to gauge her reaction. “A rule, I’m sure you will appreciate.”
He loosened his hold but didn’t release her waist. “The second rule is a little harder. You have to touch me, caress, massage, stroke, run your hands all over my body. It’s the cost for me not touching you.”
He showed her what he meant by sliding his hands up and down her back. “If after ten itons you haven’t touched me, I’m then free to touch you. Sound simple?”
“I don’t think so.”
“No?” Stihl, with his arms still wrapped around her, lifted her off the ground.
“Put me down!” she shouted and tried to break free.
He held her tight against his chest until he stood next to the bed, where he set her on her feet. “I’m tired, Marohka, and my patience is a little short. I
’m willing to play fair. If I let you touch me, I’m agreeing not to touch you. If you don’t comply”—he nodded at the bed—“then we’ll lie down, and I’ll teach you the simple pleasures of having a man make love to you.”
Her hands on his shoulders, she glared at his face. He returned her stare, eye to eye. Her labored breath brushed against his face.
“I thought the rule was I have to agree for you to touch me.”
“I’m giving you a choice. You decide which way you want it.”
She tried to shove him away. “What about our trip to the Trisar Mine? Shouldn’t we leave?”
“Not until around thirteen ziton.” He lifted her off the ground.
“Wait! If I agree, what part of you do I have to touch?”
His mind leaped with possibilities, but he curbed his response. “You’re free to touch me any place you want. The book I read mentioned a few activities to help make the process easier.”
He paused and set her back on her feet. “Let’s see. The book did mention one lady who gave her mate a bath, then proceeded to give him a body massage.”
“A bath?” She shook her head. “I don’t think so. What else?”
“Well, it mentioned other items you could use to pleasure me.” He caught the sudden interest in her eyes. “Items other than your hands that is, like your lips and tongue or other body parts to stroke and excite me.”
Her shocked glare forced him to tighten his hold. “The ritual is designed to make you more comfortable around me. Remember, you said you needed to get used to touching me. Well, here’s your chance.”
Marohka shook her head. A blush graced her cheeks.
Stihl caressed her back. “We can start with a simple body massage. I’ll guide you through it.”
The doubt in her eyes didn’t stop him from carrying through with his plan. He held her wrists and guided her hands slowly down the front of his chest and stomach. Her fingers slid over his belt, and he stopped. “Now, untie my robe.”
She drew in a deep breath. “Remember, you’re not allowed to touch me. If I’m willing to do this, you have to abide by the rules.”
He dropped his hands to his sides. “I will, if you will.”
She worked the knot loose. Her teeth bit into her lips. Her serious green gaze skirted around his and fell instead on his chin. She pulled the tie apart. The folds of his robe slowly slid open. She stepped back.
Her voice, high and unsteady, echoed her nervousness. “Do you want to lie on the bed or the floor?”
“The bed.” He slid off his robe. Marohka’s eyes lit on every object in the room other than him, screaming of her uncertainty, but she stood her ground.
“Do you have any lotion?”
“It’s in the lily. Do you want me to get it?” He smiled when she turned and left the room.
Not easy for either of them, her challenge lay in overcoming her fears, his to control his desire. He shoved the rumpled blankets out of the way and lay facedown on the bed with a pillow cupped under his head and chest. A back rub after last night would be a welcomed adventure.
The idea of her fingers sliding over him lured him into closing his eyes. If he maintained his patience and enjoyed her massage, it might pave the way to something deeper growing between them.
Chapter Eight
Marohka doubted the theory that giving Stihl a massage would help with her reaction to him, but she hoped she’d become less sensitive to his touch.
Standing in the lily, she worked to calm her nerves. In her massage class, she’d practiced giving back rubs. The teacher stressed how their mates would find pleasure in the method. Everyone had to pass the art of a good massage. If done correctly, she’d help him to relax, and then hopefully, he’d fall asleep. With the problem over, she could leave him and rest herself.
Heartened by the thought, she retrieved the lotion and walked back into the bedroom. She gulped down a quick breath before moving to his prone form on the bed. Her gaze traveled the length of his rock-hard body. Broad shoulders, muscular back, trim waist were all golden brown, his firm buttocks white. His powerful thighs marked again by the suns, carried it down to his thick calves and his strong ankles. After admiring his feet, she glanced up to catch him staring.
She swallowed her fears. I can’t back out now.
“Did you find the lotion?”
Marohka raised the bottle and stepped closer. “Would you like me to start at your feet and work up or from the shoulders down?”
“Why don’t you start at the shoulders?” He laid his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes.
She settled next to him and tried to keep her mind on the task. The perfect line of his body drew her gaze. She noticed the curve of his butt and the long length of his legs. Distracted by the alluring sight of his rear, she tugged a blanket over his hips. Her teacher said to focus on only one area at a time, and that’s how she planned to survive the ordeal.
To warm the lotion, she poured it onto her palms and rubbed her hands together. A tropical scent filled the air. She envisioned a sandy beach with waves crashing on the shore. She dropped her hands on the firm muscles along the ridge of his shoulders. She rode the tide and kneaded his stress away.
With each stroke, his sighs of pleasure boosted her confidence. She ran her thumb from the line of his neck to the edge of his shoulders, forcing his tension to release its hold. After a few itons, his stiffness relaxed.
His warm, slick skin flowed beneath her fingers. The granite strength below the surface tugged at her emotions, dragging her out to great depths like the undertow in the sea. The sensual pleasure of touching him tugged at her thoughts. Visions of him plummeted through her mind, drowning her with need. Little tingles of awareness popped up on her skin. The room grew warm.
Unable to block these probing images, she worked slowly down his back and rubbed the heel of her hand over his shoulder blade. She varied her strokes, first soft and feathery, then strong and forceful.
She played a soothing song with her hands and matched the rhythm of the music floating in from the other room. Gently, she lulled him into a peaceful sleep. His breathing calmed. She massaged a small knot under his skin, and he didn’t move. Yet, she knew it had to be sore.
With him unaware of her, she melted into a cozy mood of peace. For a while, she enjoyed the smooth texture of his skin without the threat of him turning over and seeing the pleasure she gained by stroking his leg. His body fascinated her with its strong, rippling muscles and soft, silky skin. The contrast excited her senses.
The same was true of his attitude. In the mating ring, he’d proven he could best her in a fight. Yet, he hadn’t overpowered her with his advances. Instead, he’d treated her gently. Why? Stories about other men ran through her head. Many weren’t as patient as Stihl. Most either coaxed or seduced their mate to bond before the end of the first evening.
Of course, last night, he’d started the blending process. She remembered his touch, but he hadn’t rushed. His mind stroked and held hers. He’d even gained access to some of her deeper thoughts, but he hadn’t stolen her virginity. Of that, she was certain.
Marohka ran her hand across the calf muscles of his leg. So strong.
No way, could she have forgotten if they’d made love. She’d be lucky not to lose herself completely when they finally bonded. The idea drove her hands away from his leg. He didn’t protest, so she stood and left the room.
No point in arousing temptation.
* * * *
The poet’s fist hit the table. The poem wasn’t working, and neither was his plan to rid the people in the way of achieving his dream.
“The bride is not dead.
The groom isn’t crying.
All will be lost.
Better, start solving
The current perplexing problem.”
The words won’t flow. Crushing the paper, another object landed in the trash.
* * * *
Vin Taunton walked to his wife and kissed her o
n the cheek where she stood by the counter. For the moment, he delayed telling her about his decision to sell their company. “Kaysay, I received a VIP from Marohka.”
She worked her way around the kitchen, but remained quiet with her troubled eyes avoiding his. A sore subject between them, he understood her reasons for her disliking their daughter working for him.
But in truth, Marohka was the only reason the company hadn’t gone under long ago. Her skills had turned it into a profitable endeavor. He’d always preferred to work at the university’s lab, leaving the company in her hands.
Kaysay placed the final dish on the table, which sat suspended in the center of the small eating area. Music played softly in the background. Colors danced around the room from the rings gracing her fingers. Flavorful aromas scented the air.
