War Bride (Battle Born Book 7)

by Cyndi Friberg

  “Affirmative.” Tonn stood and followed as soon as Kryton was out of his way.

  “I know the bodyguard can throw fire, but he likely has other abilities. I’ll let you strike first.”

  “Or you can collar the guard and let me capture the girl?” Tonn wiggled his eyebrows with a hopeful grin.

  “No one touches her but me.”

  Tonn’s buoyant mood evaporated and he inclined his head. “Of course, sir. I understand the plan and I’m prepared.”

  “Then let’s go hunting.” Kryton triggered the hatch and drew his sidearm. Stealth was the name of this game, but it never hurt to be prepared for the unexpected. Their strike had to be fast and focused. He wanted to be long gone by the time Skyla’s absence was noticed.

  The estate had been built in a valley, so the ground had a distinct slope. Even though his pace was brisk, he placed his feet carefully, not willing to reveal his position. The sun had set, though it was not yet fully dark. Indigenous tree cover gave way to manicured bushes and neat rows of smaller, flowering trees.

  They’re headed for the elevated walkway. Tonn’s voice sounded within Kryton’s mind, transmitted there by com-bots. Many Rodyte technologies simulated Bilarrian abilities.

  Kryton had hoped she’d walk across the yard. Close-quarter confrontations were always tricky. Even so, he’d planned for this choice as well.

  An emergency evacuation stairwell midway through the walkway would provide their access point, but only if they were in position before Skyla and her bodyguard arrived. Kryton reached level ground and took off running. Though Tonn moved silently, Kryton could feel the slight breeze created by his pumping arms and legs.

  Kryton reached the door to the stairwell and pulled a small device out of his pocket. Unlike most of the doors on the estate, which were protected by biometric or telepathic locks, this lock required an antiquated alphanumeric code. It was an oversight Kryton was happy to exploit. Within seconds the code generator provided the appropriate combination and the locking mechanism released.

  According to the information Kryton had paid a small fortune to attain, there were no motion sensors or intruder detection systems in the stairwell. Still, he paused long enough to confirm the fact with his armband scanner.

  “It’s clear,” he told Tonn, who was scanning as well. Tonn nodded and Kryton bolted up the stairs, his long legs clearing the obstacles three at a time.

  He reached the upper doorway just as Skyla and her bodyguard entered the walkway. A large window in the door allowed him to see into the walkway and he watched their progress in a simple convex mirror hung from the ceiling. Tonn held a stun wand in one hand and the suppression collar in the other. Kryton had already checked to make sure his sidearm was set on stun as well. Damaging the bodyguard was an acceptable risk, but nothing would harm Skyla.

  His heartrate increased with each step she took. Weeks of planning had led to countless nights of tossing in his lonely bed, dreaming of a future he’d yet to achieve. He’d quickly chosen Skyla from a short list of possible targets. At first he’d wanted her because her abilities were impressive yet nonthreatening. Clairvoyance could be extremely useful and still a clairvoyant was easy to control. At least physically. So he’d dug deeper and became more intrigued with each fact he learned. If the information he’d compiled was accurate, she was the perfect combination of cool logic and fiery spirit. She wouldn’t cower before him like a child, but neither would she despise him simply for being Rodyte. He’d experienced that phenomenon once too often in recent years. He was ready for a mature female with whom he could reason, rather than just rut.

  He grasped the door handle as his target neared. Tonn shifted to the other side of the doorway, ensuring that neither Skyla nor her bodyguard saw him. As Skyla drew even with the door, Kryton swung it open and Tonn went after the guard. Kryton grabbed Skyla around the waist and pulled her firmly against him. In less than a second, the bodyguard was unconscious, collared, and lying at their feet. Kryton heard Skyla inhale sharply and realized she meant to scream. He raised his sidearm and reluctantly stunned her. She collapsed into his arms, her weight insubstantial even with the elaborate gown.

  Nice work.

  Tonn grinned.

  More than anything Kryton wanted to savor having Skyla in his arms, but first they had to escape this gods forsaken planet. He draped her over his shoulder and turned toward the stairwell, one of his arms securely wrapped around her legs. Tonn held the door open and they rushed down the stairs. They flew out the door and sprinted for the relative protection of the trees, all the while listening for shouts or alarms.

  They’d left the hatch open in anticipation of their hasty return. Maneuvering her through the opening and up the steep stairs tested Kryton’s strength and agility. Her billowy skirts sabotaged him at every turn. He finally managed to guide her entire body into the shuttle. Tonn dove in after him and secured the hatch.

  They switched seats. Kryton sat at the navigator’s console and arranged Skyla on his lap. She lay securely in the cradle of his arms, head resting against his shoulder. Tonn slipped onto the pilot’s seat and drew the systems out of standby. The engines rumbled and the small ship vibrated as Tonn carefully eased out of the security grid. Once free, he blasted away from the complex with breath-stealing acceleration. Their exit would create a momentary fluctuation in the security grid, if it showed up at all.

  Kryton smiled, finally allowing himself to relax. This had been almost too easy. When Rodytes first claimed war brides, all of Bilarri went on alert, making the simplest capture a challenge. Now, nearly a century later, few Rodytes had the patience or the resources required to maintain a war bride, so Bilarrians had grown complacent.

  His captive shifted restlessly, momentarily drawing his gaze. Several strands of her long dark hair had escaped, trailing along her neck and into the valley between her breasts. Her thick-lashed blue eyes had widened when she saw him, the rings separating her irises from her pupils bright red.

  “She really is beautiful,” Tonn muttered then quickly turned back to his controls.

  Kryton’s gaze lingered on his lovely captive and his body hardened in anticipation of the conquest to come. Capturing her might have been easy, but he had no doubt Skyla would challenge him every step of the way.

  * * * * *

  Someone slipped their arm under Skyla’s shoulders and lifted her slightly. Then something cool and smooth pressed against her lips.

  “Drink. This will help revive you.” The voice was deep and resonate, obviously belonging to a man, but he spoke Bilarrian with an odd accent. Dread rolled across her shoulders and down her back.

  A tangy liquid slid over Skyla’s tongue and she automatically swallowed, and then swallowed again. She blinked several times, then slowly lifted her lids. The stranger’s familiar face awaited her, as she knew it would. He sat on the edge of the bunk, his arm supporting her shoulders. His gaze was narrowed, the blue rings barely visible in an endless sea of black. He appeared every bit as savage as he had in her dreams.

  “Who are you?” she whispered. She already knew what he wanted and why he’d taken her. Worse, she knew his seduction would succeed. Despite what she’d told Rona, Skyla had realized she was the boy’s mother the moment her dream revealed his perfect little face.

  “I’m you’re master.” He spoke with calm finality. “You will call me sir.”

  Ignoring the ridiculous statement, she pushed against the firm mattress and sat up. She wanted to see beyond him and needed to minimize her contact with his arm. There wasn’t much to see. The room was clean yet austere. The bunk on which she lay, a built-in work station and a small couch were the only furnishings. Maletta Estate was in a narrow valley. Only small, agile transports could navigate the challenging terrain. She couldn’t feel a telltale vibration or hear the engines’ drone, but she had no doubt she was on a spaceship.

  “How long have I been unconscious?” Then her eyes widened as a far more important question barg
ed to the front of the line. “What did you do with Ditten?”

  “If Ditten is your bodyguard, we simply left him where he fell.”

  “He wasn’t…” Dread lodged in her throat and she couldn’t speak the word.

  “He was unconscious, just like you.” Apparently annoyed by her question, he pushed to his feet and stared down at her. “Despite what you’ve been taught, Rodytes only kill as a last resort.”

  He had no idea what she’d “been taught” about Rodytes much less what she had learned on her own. Dreaming about him had made her curious and information was the only weapon against that sort of curiosity. Unfortunately, cold hard facts about Rodytes were hard to find in Bilarrian archives. Too much of what she’d found had been shaped by prejudice and hate.

  Playing dumb was rather pointless, but she couldn’t think of any other strategy. “My family will only pay the ransom if I’m unharmed.”

  “This isn’t about ransom and you know it.” He set the cup aside and straightened his light gray top before he spoke again. Leaning down, he took her right hand between his and started the vow she’d been dreading ever since she first saw his image. “I claim Skyla of Hautell as my war bride.”

  “Stop it.” She snatched her hand back, but he caught it again, intertwining their fingers so she couldn’t avoid his grasp.

  “I vow not to harm you and I promise you will be freed just as soon as I’ve reclaimed what your people took from me.”

  She tugged against his hold as panic rose inside her. Magic. The Rodytes blamed Bilarrians for “robbing” them of the ability to manipulate magic. And forcing Bilarrian women to breed with them was their way of evening the score. “I won’t be harmed?” A caustic laugh escaped her throat. With a firm jerk, she freed her hand and scrambled off the bed. “How will you ‘reclaim’ what my people stole if you don’t intend to harm me?”

  He clasped his hands behind his back, gaze narrowed and assessing. Her dreams had perfectly captured his rugged features and the leashed power emanated by his fierce expressions. What she hadn’t understood was the sheer size of the man. Her head would easily tuck beneath his chin and her entire body would be eclipsed by the width of his chest. He was no longer wearing armor, but his clingy shirt and well-tailored black pants made him no less intimidating.

  “You’re not a virgin,” he stated casually. “Why would the thought of joining with me frighten you?”

  How in hells’ fire did he know she wasn’t a virgin? “I have no intention of joining with you, now or ever. So you have no reason to keep me.”

  “I disagree.”

  Why was she arguing with him? She knew damn well he wouldn’t release her. She was just upsetting herself. “Anything you want, you’ll have to take by force. Are you really that evil?”

  “Contrary to what you’ve been told, rape is not our way.” His voice dropped, becoming a rumbling purr that spread heat throughout her body. “When I push inside you for the first time, you’ll be wet and aching, more than ready for me to fill you.”

  “You’re deluded.”

  The corners of his mouth turned up and his expression relaxed. Why had he found that amusing? She certainly hadn’t meant to entertain him.

  “Your color is returning.” The smile faded, but his posture remained at ease as he crossed to the far corner of the room. Some sort of compartment had been inset in the wall and a small section of countertop had been mounted above it. “Would you like something to drink?” He motioned to a bottle protruding from a silver bucket, which was arranged on a tray with elegantly etched glasses. “I know you’re fond of eloatta, so I have a bottle on ice.”

  Just like a real joining celebration. The thought made her shiver and she crossed her arms. “I want nothing from you.”

  “That’s unfortunate because from this moment on your very existence depends on me.”

  “Is that a threat?” Fear was a more rational reaction to his tactics, but Skyla felt only anger. Knowing the outcome of their confrontation gave her an odd sense of calm. This felt inevitable. No matter how hard she resisted or how frantically she tried to escape, he would win in the end.

  “Your family is rich, your brother powerful.” He leaned back against the counter, hands clasping the edge to each side of his lean hips. “I know you’ve never been claimed by a mate, but has your brother proposed possible matches?”

  She stilled and suspicion narrowed her gaze. “Were you spying on me?”

  A secretive smile was his only answer. “You’ve failed to find your mate, so now you must settle for a life partner. Affection is no longer a consideration. Would you really have been satisfied with a loveless joining?”

  Rodymia had been settled by Bilarrians centuries ago, so it stood to reason that Rodyte breeding would be similar. Genetic compatibility triggered a fundamental attraction known as sexual allure. Without allure, a mating bond wouldn’t form regardless of how many times the couple had sex. And without a mating bond there could be no children. The Rodyte’s reason for capturing her had been to impregnate her, so how had he known they would be genetically compatible? Or had the Rodytes found a way to breed without the mating bond?

  Rather than ask him to explain, she hid behind hostility. “Is there a point to your rambling dissertation?”

  He chuckled and his expression softened from brutal to formidable. “You’re adorable. Are you always this feisty?”

  She tried to lick her lips but her mouth had gone dry. “Just when I’m kidnapped by a madman.”

  “I think you’ll find my logic is sound and my point is rather simple. Had you remained within your brother’s control, your joining night would not have been so different from what you’re experiencing now. There would have been some sort of ceremony and then you would have been expected to surrender your body to a male you didn’t choose.”

  And the males her brother had chosen were far less appealing than her captor. At least physically. She knew nothing about this man, not even his name. Well, she knew he was ruthless enough to claim a war bride. She dragged her gaze away from his face and tried again to lick her lips.

  “Are you sure you don’t want something to drink?” There was no challenge in his tone, no provocation.

  She’d meant to be completely uncooperative, but her mouth was so dry she could barely swallow. Seeing no benefit to being stubborn, she relented enough to ask, “May I have a glass of water?”

  “Of course.” He turned around and opened the compartment. It was a refrigeration unit stocked with an assortment of snacks and beverages. He found a shatter-proof bottle of water and twisted off the cap before handing it to her. “Shall we sit?” He motioned toward the couch.

  She took a drink of the water as much to stall as to quench her thirst. “I’d rather stand.”

  Without warning, he swept her up in his arms and walked over to the couch. She gasped as her feet left the floor and water splashed her hand. “It wasn’t really a question.” He sat down and held her firmly on his lap as she tried to wiggle free. “This would feel so much better if you weren’t wearing those thick skirts.”

  Immediately she stilled and looked into his eyes. Was anger or arousal making the blue rings glow? He’d been polite until she rebelled, then he’d forced her to his will. The lesson was obvious. He wouldn’t tolerate defiance and he wouldn’t be denied. “May I please sit beside you?”

  “Add ‘sir’ and I’ll consider it.”

  The autocratic snap in his tone sent tingles down her spine. What in hells’ rings was wrong with her? She should be terrified, yet all she felt was a restless anxiety, as if she didn’t quite know what she wanted. “May I please sit beside you, sir?” Bending just this far was better than remaining on his lap.

  He eased her sideways until her back pressed against the armrest, but her legs still draped across his lap. When she tried to lower her feet to the floor, his hand slipped under her skirts and lightly clasped her ankle. His smile and the sudden gleam in his eyes revealed his game. He
wanted her to struggle, to give him a reason to touch her more intimately.

  Rather than play along, she crossed her ankles and forced herself to relax. “May I ask a question?”

  He eased her slippers off and tossed them aside. “You may ask. And if you pose the question with the proper respect, I might even answer.”

  “Why do you know so much about me…sir?” She added the title after a short pause.

  His large, warm hand returned to her ankle, but he ventured no higher. “This was no random act. You were chosen from a list of potential targets. Your abduction took weeks of planning and many, many bribes.”

  “But why me?” When he acted as if he hadn’t heard her, she tried again. “Please, sir, will you explain what I possess that the others did not?”

  He seemed to consider it for a moment. Unless his air of authority was a façade, this was not a man used to explaining himself to anyone. “First and foremost, you have five sisters.”

  “You’re hoping for a daughter?” How strange. On Bilarri titles and power were passed down from father to son. She’d presumed things were the same on Rodymia.

  One of his brows arched and his fingers moved over her skin, or actually over her sheer stocking, which was no real barrier to his touch. “If that surprises you, you don’t know as much about the battle born as you think.”

  Battle born. The phrase echoed through her mind and another tingle coursed down her spine. War brides gave birth to battle born children before they were sent back to their shattered lives and expected to carry on as if none of it had happened. Her soul shriveled at the thought. The possibility of being seduced by this man was not nearly as daunting as being parted from their son.

  “Why would you prefer a daughter to a son?” His hand crept onto her calf and she quickly grabbed his forearm. “I’m sorry, sir. I meant no disrespect.” His hand stopped ascending, but it remained near her knee.