Blood Law

by Dominique Adair

  Before she could answer, he lowered his mouth to her hot sweetness. She screamed and thrashed as he lapped at her flesh and her rich flavor rolled across his tongue. He placed his arm across her abdomen to hold her in place, then began his assault. Using his lips, teeth and tongue, he closed his eyes and poured himself into his task as he stroked and suckled her needy flesh.

  Soon he lost track of time as again and again he heard and felt her reach release. He quit counting after the first few times as her body had become a vessel for their mutual sexual gratification and he was intent upon partaking of her bounty.

  She was sobbing when he brought her off for the final time. He raised his head, his mouth damp with her juices. He rose to his knees and looked upon what he’d created. Her skin was pink and damp with perspiration and her breathing was ragged. Her eyes were closed and her lashes damp.

  He quashed the feeling of regret at the sight of her tears. She wasn’t hurt unless one counted too much sexual release.

  “Ilsa, look at me.”

  Her lashes fluttered and it took a moment for her to focus her gaze on him. He saw a mixture of confusion and desire in their depths.

  “I always win, Ilsa. Say it.”

  She shook her head, the movement faint.

  “Say it, woman.”

  “You always win.” Her lips barely moved.

  “I’ve beaten you.”

  “No,” she whispered and her eyes flooded with tears. “You haven’t.”

  “Yes, I have.”

  He covered her and took possession of her mouth. She opened beneath him and their tongues mated in a kiss that was pure, raw carnality. He explored the terrain of her mouth, ferreting out her secrets. Their tongues tangled and her mellow flavor seduced him into slowing the kiss.

  He nipped her lower lip before pulling away. She was a beautiful mess. Her cheeks were damp with tears and most of her hair had escaped her braid to create a tangled halo. Her eyes were luminous and her lips plump from his kisses. He’d done this. He’d created this beautiful sexual creature beneath him and no man had ever had her before him and none would have her after him.

  A feeling of possession swamped him and he pushed her thighs farther apart with his knees and plunged into her. Her wet, welcoming heat surrounded his cock as he slid deep inside her. She twisted beneath him and her breathy entreaty urged him on. Putting aside all attempts at finesse, he hammered into her with mounting mind-numbing pleasure. The push and pull of her body as it grasped him turned his brain to mush.

  Their sensual interlude seemed to go on forever with Ilsa reaching release several more times, each one bringing him closer to orgasm. Sweat gathered on his brow as he increased his breakneck pace, his hips moving of their own volition. He held her shoulders with a bruising grip as his testicles tightened and with a thunderous cry, he came deep within her. Wild aftershocks of release reverberated through his nervous system and he collapsed across her, gasping for air and thanking the Goddess for the most amazing sexual interlude of his life.

  After a few minutes, he managed to raise his head. Still semi-hard and buried deep within her, he reached for the remote to the restraint cuffs on the bedside table. He clicked the master button and they released their grip on her limbs.

  Ilsa moaned, but didn’t move. He tossed the remote aside before catching her wrist to inspect the damage she’d inflicted upon herself. Shallow red lacerations marred her skin and they’d bruise within a few hours. When he could convince himself to move, he had ointment in the med bay that would help her injuries. He kissed the inside of her wrist where her pulse beat against his mouth.

  She sighed and wrapped her free arm around his shoulders. Together they rolled to their sides, their bodies still tightly entwined. He placed her hand palm down over his heart.

  Then he closed his eyes, not sure if he’d won or lost that round.

  * * * * *

  The sound of running water roused Ilsa from her deep sleep. She forced her eyes open only to shut them again. Why were the lights so bright? She wanted to pull the pillow over her head and return to sleep but knew she had to get up. They’d be arriving on Verison soon and she didn’t want to greet her Counselors naked and thoroughly debauched.

  She opened her eyes and stifled a moan. Her body was stiff from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. She blinked several times, allowing her eyes to adjust to the intrusive overhead lights. When she decided it was safe to move, she rolled to her side, ignoring the overused muscles in her thighs and back. Out of the corner of her eye a movement caught her attention.

  In the corner bathing stall, the Prince was taking a shower. It was backlit and, from her perspective, she could see every inch of his body through the glass door. Tall and muscular, he was more than enough male to ignite the fantasies of every woman he met. Water ran down his muscular back, tight buttocks and long, lean thighs. In that moment she knew she’d never forget how he looked…a vision of proud, alpha male.

  He turned and she saw the jut of his cock. He was still semi-hard and her throat went dry. He certainly knew what to do with that magnificent cock of his. They’d spent the past eleven hours in bed and very little of that time had been spent sleeping. Her cheeks warmed.

  Nothing in her sexual training could have prepared her for the raw sensuality of Prince Loren in full rut. He was a man of magnificent appetites and he’d coaxed her into sexual positions she’d never seen in the vid-files. He’d taken her on back, her side, face down in the pillows and from behind. Their lovemaking had been fun and quirky, deeply sensual and rough and ready all at the same time. And she hadn’t objected, not once. Every time he’d reached for her, she’d willingly opened for him, taking him deep into her body, and in return he’d branded his essence upon her soul.

  Suddenly warm, Ilsa rolled to her back. Prince Loren wasn’t quite what she’d expected. The vid-files and intelligence reports had conveyed he was well educated, intelligent and the consummate politician. This man, however, would wreak havoc in many diplomatic situations with his arrogance and mastery. He surely had some powerful advisors working with him before each public appearance.

  The image of him leaning over her, commanding her to acquiesce came to mind and she pushed it away. He was a hard man, strong and commanding, though not cruel. It was easy to see why his men respected him. But he was a vampire, an immortal. She frowned. How could she have missed that? She’d heard his younger brother was a Lorai, but no mention had been made of Loren making this same controversial decision. She’d seen vid-files of him at official functions and it certainly appeared to her that he’d consumed the food in front of him. Among his people, vampires weren’t considered common, though there were quite a number in comparison to her own people. How could this fact have been missed in the newsreels?

  “Are you awake?” His deep voice intruded upon her musing.

  She rolled to her side. He stood in the open shower compartment; water droplets gleamed on his dark skin. His muscles rippled as he exited the shower and headed for the drying booth.

  “You might want to think about dressing.” He punched a few buttons on the panel of the booth. “We’ll be arriving within the hour.”

  The air came on to blow dry his body. He raised his arms and turned this way and that, and Ilsa could barely tear her gaze away from him. Unable to stop, her gaze devoured him. In the unforgiving bright light of the overheads, every muscle, ripple and mound of muscle was clearly defined, creating a display of masculine beauty that made it hard to breathe. Her gaze followed the furrow of his spine down to the mouthwatering dimples just above his buttocks.

  Suddenly he turned and a soft male chuckle had her gaze darting to his face. His eyes were on her and her cheeks warmed. He’d caught her staring at him like some lovesick fuzz-pup.

  She swallowed hard and reached for the sheet to cover her nudity. Busying herself with tidying the pillows, she heard the blower tube turn off and he walked past her. The scent of his body, mixed with the soap he�
��d used on his hair, made her stomach flip-flop with pleasure.

  He walked to another panel and pushed a button on the wall. A door slid open to reveal a neat row of black flight suits with the Xanthra insignia on the shoulder. He pulled a pair of black, long-legged shorts from a drawer before snagging one of the flight suits from the hangers. With quick, economical movements he dressed without once looking at or speaking to her. When he was done, he left the room.

  Feeling chilled, Ilsa sat up slowly. The formal Crown Prince of the Xanthra had replaced her miraculous lover of only an hour ago. Her heart ached at the thought of what was to come. Before she’d met him, she’d only thought of him as a means to an end, a man with more money and power than she could ever hope to attain on her own. This man held the resources to save her people in the palm of his big hand.

  Everything was different now. She could see the man who stood behind the crown. The commander who would, only through treachery and force, save her people from their fate at the hands of the Mengalors.

  She frowned. Maybe there was some other way to save them. Maybe there was something else—

  No, there wasn’t.

  Her shoulders slumped. Her Counselors had spent countless hours wrestling over ways to save her clan. They’d needed a plan that would risk the least amount of lives and save the thousands who depended upon her. This plan, their only viable option, put only two lives at risk, hers and Loren’s.

  There was no turning back.

  With leaden limbs she rose from the bed and a slight dizziness assailed her. Her breath left in a rush and she sat down hard on the bed. She’d done it. She was pregnant.

  Ilsa placed a shaky hand over her abdomen. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the flicker of life she felt beneath her hand. She smiled. It felt like a small bug tickling her palm. Her smile faded and her chin dropped to her chest as sadness enveloped her.

  Now there was another life at risk. Her child.

  Chapter Four

  The moment the ship docked and the landing bay was pressurized, a swarm of warriors in mismatched uniforms bearing an insignia Zane didn’t recognize surrounded the ship. Judging from their faces, many were old, too old to be warriors, while others looked to be just out of the schoolroom. What kind of army was this?

  Ilsa stood beside him on the Nav Deck. She’d clothed herself in a long-sleeved white dress with silver trim and a royal blue velvet cape that swept the floor. Her hair was tamed into a long braid woven with narrow silver ribbons while a slim, silver band perched on her brow like a crown.

  “Who are they?” he asked.

  “This is what remains of the royal guard of the house of Shanart.” Her tone was remote and her face expressionless. “These are my people…what’s left of them anyway.”

  He heard the sorrow in her voice and wondered at it. What had happened to the Shanart people? While they had a royal family, they held no position in the UC nor did they offer council in any matters of importance.

  The Shanart were always a bit of a mystery to the other nations in the Council. Preferring to remain neutral, they sold the minerals their planet possessed but they’d made it clear they neither needed nor wanted any outside interference. His father had proclaimed King Falkes, the ruler of the Shanart, to be a brilliant scholar yet naive in the matters of politics outside of his own world. Loren believed their King’s political shortcomings would someday mean the downfall of the Shanart people.

  Eager to meet the King and find out what had happened on Verison, he touched her arm. “Come, Princess, let us greet our welcoming party.”

  She gave him a short nod then fell into step behind him. When they reached the egress chamber, he held his hand to the palm reader to trigger the outer hatch.

  Nothing happened.

  He waved his hand over the scanner again and the stubborn light remained red. “Cursed thing—”

  Ilsa stepped around him and held her palm before the scanner. The light turned green and the door opened.

  His jaw was tight when he took her arm. “You’ll restore my ship to its former state, Princess?” His words were forced between his teeth.

  “Of course.” She gave him a faint smile.

  The metal walkway extended and together they headed down the ramp. Zane was acutely aware of the numerous blasters pointed at his head. Even though he was now armed, with his ship in its current condition, it would do no good to try and make his escape. Even if he won, which was unlikely given the numbers against him, he couldn’t escape the planet with a ship that regarded its commander as an interloper.

  When they reached the end of the ramp, three men in ornate robes approached. The tallest one glanced at Zane then away, effectively dismissing him.

  “Queen Ilsa, I trust all is well,” he said.

  Queen?

  “Indeed, Counselor Rachmin.” She inclined her head toward Zane. “Counselors, may I present—”

  “Your mission was accomplished?” The short, round man with a bald head interrupted. The front of his robe was stained with what looked like his lunch and he grabbed Ilsa’s arm before placing his hand on her abdomen.

  She stiffened and tried to pull away but the man refused to let go as he continued to grope her lower belly.

  “Unhand her.” Zane released her other arm and stepped forward.

  “Counselor Shadras, you forget yourself.” The third man, a slim, nondescript man with pale brown hair and even features, moved to separate Ilsa from her tormentor. “You cannot manhandle your Queen.” His dark gaze swung toward Zane and he gave a sketchy bow. “Welcome to Verison. My name is Counselor Boock. Who might you be, sir?”

  Ilsa made a sound of impatience. “This is Crown Prince Loren el Ranuth.”

  The three men glanced at him, at each other, then to Ilsa.

  “This isn’t him,” the tall one said.

  “This is his brother, Prince Zane,” Counselor Shadras said. “Is the Crown Prince still on board?” He leaned to the side as if to catch someone lurking behind them.

  “What do you mean this isn’t him?” she asked. “The physical description is correct although his hair is longer. Our vid-files must have been a few months older than we’d thought—”

  “Prince Zane is Prince Loren’s twin,” Counselor Rachmin interrupted. “The younger of the brothers.”

  “But this is Loren’s ship, the Merry Chase—” Ilsa turned to gape at him and Zane couldn’t help but feel amused by her confusion. The presumptuous chit had never bothered to ask him who he was. She’d just assumed he was Loren.

  “I bought the ship from my brother last week.” He gave her a small smile, enjoying the myriad of emotions that crossed her face. “You never stopped long enough to ask my name, Queen Ilsa.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”

  “Prince Zane el Ranuth, third in line for the throne of Xanthra and an Admiral in the Legion of the Lorai.” He gave her an abbreviated bow, then straightened. “Loren is my older brother.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

  Her blue eyes were stormy with anger. “And you never said a word—”

  “Like I said, you never asked.” He shook his head. “Assumptions are a dangerous thing, Princess—”

  “You knew I thought you were Loren and yet you never said a word.” Her face went pale and her look of betrayal was heart wrenching. Dark circles under her eyes were in sharp contrast to her pale skin.

  “Deception goes both ways—”

  Her skin flushed and her lip curled. With her fingers bent into claws, she flew at him. “You bastard!”

  Her nails connected with his cheek before he could stop her and he gritted his teeth as her nails raked his skin. He caught her wrists and twisted, pulling her tight to his chest with his arms wrapped securely around her torso to restrict her movement.

  “No, I never said anything, Princess.” He whispered in her ear so no one else could hear him. “I never had the chance. Remember? You were too busy crawling into bed with me to ask question
s.”

  Ilsa straightened her back until she was so taut he thought her spine might snap. The rage faded from her face and a cool remote mask took its place. She raised her chin and focused her gaze somewhere over the heads of her Counselors. “Unhand me.”

  “Are you going to try and claw my eyes out again?” he asked.

  “You’re not worth my time,” she spat.

  He chuckled. “Not unless I’m between your thighs.” He nipped her earlobe and felt her shudder. “With my face buried in your pussy…”

  She yanked hard and he released her, not wanting to hurt her any more than necessary. Her cheeks were red with humiliation and, for a moment, he felt sorry for her. Though she’d kidnapped him and stolen his ship, he’d knowingly deceived and publicly humiliated her. His mother hadn’t raised him to treat women badly. There was no doubt in his mind that she’d box his ears when she heard of this escapade.

  Counselor Rachmin cleared his throat and Zane caught the speculative looks on the faces of the three men. The tall man turned to the short dumpy one. “Is she breeding?”

  “Yes.” The short man’s tone was sour. “She’s been impregnated by the wrong man.”

  Zane felt as if his entire body had been dashed with ice water and his jaw clenched. He shot a glance at Ilsa’s remote expression.

  “This is a disaster,” Counselor Rachmin exclaimed. “Her stupidity has ruined us all. “

  Zane stepped in front of Ilsa. “Why don’t we go somewhere private and talk about what you’d hoped to accomplish with this foolish plan? Once I understand what’s at stake, I might be able to assist you.”

  “I think you’ve done quite enough.” Counselor Shadras shot a contemptuous look at Ilsa.