Special Deceptions (The Coursodon Dimension Book 5)

by M. L. Ryan

  “A moment more of your time, Hailey.” Rexa’s request squashed any chance of an expeditious exit, mostly because it sounded more like a demand.

  “Of course,” I said, making certain to do so with a regal air of pleasant

  indifference.

  To her husband, she asked, “Wyx, may we have the room?”

  I guessed that was a polite way to ask him to get lost, and get lost he did, with only a knowing smile as her answer. Pleasant indifference I could handle, but there was no way I’d ever master the fine art of gentle condescension. Whatever she intended to say, the fact she wanted no witnesses scared the crap out of me.

  “What do you know about Tannis’ relationship with your Dekankaran friend, Ulut?” she stated without preamble.

  Uh-oh. The dog’s out of the bag now, Tannis. “In what way do you mean?”

  “Can he be trusted? Are his intentions honorable?”

  “Ulut is completely trustworthy, loyal, and as far as I can tell, completely devoted to Tannis. I have no idea what his intentions are, but he would never deliberately hurt her.” I also had no clue why I described him like Lassie.

  Rexa nodded. “I appreciate your candor. One worries about their children.”

  I wondered if there was more to it than just motherly concern. “Are you troubled that both Alex and Tannis are involved with form-changing outsiders?”

  “My former daughter-in-law was Courso, and she murdered my son. I think I’ll take my chances with a human and a Dekankaran. Which brings me to the main reason I wished to speak with you.”

  Rexa sat at one end of the table; I was to her right about halfway down. She angled her chair toward me to make conversation less awkward. “First, let me say how proud I am of you. You continue to handle yourself with aplomb in harrowing circumstances. Alexander was correct; you are quite special.”

  That wasn’t even close to where I thought the conversation was headed. I replied in a spectacularly non-special way. “Uh, thanks?”

  “With some effort, I am confident you will one day be a fine queen,” she continued. “Believe me; I know just how difficult this must be for you, having no prior experience with such responsibilities. I am much more like Alexander than either of you might think. In my youth, I bristled at the conventions of royalty. I even occasionally engaged in some risky behavior that would have shocked my parents had they been aware of it.”

  Yeah, like sleeping with Sebastian. I still had a hard time wrapping my head around her being wrapped around him.

  “My point is, I understand your reticence to engage in this life, but I am grateful you didn’t force my son to choose.”

  “I’m not an ultimatum kind of gal,” I asserted. “Even if I was, what makes you think he’d pick me?”

  The edges of her lips curved into a shrewd smile. “Because I know my son, and I know he loves you more than anything.”

  “I-I’m overwhelmed,” I stammered. “I thought you hated me.”

  Rexa regarded me. “I may have been initially cautious, but I never disliked you. In fact, I like you very much, although your tendency to utilize rather colorful vernacular was a bit of a concern.”

  “I’ve gotten much better,” I argued. “I hardly ever swear out loud anymore.”

  “I’ve noticed the improvement. You know, it took me much, much longer to make the same adjustment. I used to cuss like a sailor, too.” She leaned toward me. “My favorite was doprix nix.”

  “Mine, too! I love the way it just flows off the tongue when you’re angry. But no one will tell me exactly what it means, not even Ziqua.” Maybe Rexa wasn’t as much of a stick in the mud as I thought.

  She grinned devilishly. With her finger, she beckoned me to her side. I got up and walked around the table, crouching next to her chair. Cupping her hands around my ear, she whispered the definition.

  “Wow,” I exclaimed when she finished. “I had no idea. That’s… that’s…”

  “Filthy,” she finished. “Now you understand why no one would translate.”

  “Now I understand why it rolls so easily off the tongue.”

  33

  Damn, it’s good to be home. It was probably the fifth time I’d had the thought that morning, but it was as true now as it was the first time it came to mind. I’d missed waking up in my own bed, making freshly ground, French-pressed coffee, then sitting in the warm sunshine stretched out on a chaise on the back porch and being greeted by a variety of animals—the neighborhood Harris’s hawks Maris and Ferris, a bobcat, three javelina and a coyote—that were drawn to my form-bender vibes. What I’d missed the most was not having so many people flitting about and having time to myself.

  Sure, Sebastian and Rachel were around, but apart from Rachel saying a quick hello when we’d arrived two nights ago, they’d been tucked away up at the big house. They’d only been apart for the few days it took Sebastian to escort Keem to his new, escape-proof jail, but they probably wouldn’t come up for air soon. Ulut stayed in Alenquai with Tannis, so it was just Alex and me, and at that moment, Alex was still asleep. The alone time was pure bliss.

  As I raised my mug of Hawaiian Kona, my engagement ring glinted in the Arizona sun. Had I been wearing Dyzopga, I’d have gone blind, but Alex managed to procure the more reasonably sized sparkler that now circled the ring finger on my left hand. I left the heirloom behemoth with the Wiqyrd dirthyxa. I’d still wear it when Alex and I traveled back to Courso for our “active duty” assignments, but the new one was definitely more my style.

  I heard the door to the patio open behind me. “Good morning, carisa.” Alex leaned over my chair, and I lifted my head to meet his welcoming kiss. “Mmm,” he muttered. “You taste like coffee.”

  “Want me to get you a cup?”

  He slid around the back of the chaise, scooting me over so he could sit on one side. “No, but I am hungry.”

  I knew he wasn’t talking about food.

  Grinning, I set my mug on the side table and wrapped my arms around his neck. “What luck, Blondie, so am I.”

  His lips brushed against my neck, just below my ear, sending shivers throughout my body. “You taste good,” he breathed, using his tongue to tease his way south.

  I inhaled deeply. This morning, he smelled like Karamel Sutra, a Ben and Jerry’s combo of chocolate and caramel ice cream, chips of fudge with a caramel core. How appropriate, I mused as Alex slipped the silky robe off my shoulders.

  He was already naked. I wasn’t sure if he’d removed whatever he might have put on before he came outside or just walked out in the buff. Right then, I didn’t care one way or the other.

  Alex shifted to face me, and he drew one of my nipples between his warm, soft lips. Not one to play favorites, he used his hand to caress the other. I moaned and trailed a hand across his rippled abs, made more pronounced by the slight bend in his waist required to access the hard peaks. As he continued, I let my hand move lower until I reached pay dirt.

  No matter how many times I encountered it, and there had been many, many of them, the velvety hardness of his arousal immediately shot mine into orbit. I needed to taste him. Now.

  I gently pushed him away, and he leaned back, balancing his weight on his elbows while I repositioned myself above him. My hair fell around my face, providing a curtain of privacy as I took his length into my mouth. Not that anyone was around to watch. When you lived out in the middle of nowhere, you didn’t have to worry about neighbors getting an eyeful while you got a mouthful. If it offended any of my animal posse, they’d just have to get over it.

  I’d gotten into a comfortable rhythm when Alex interrupted and flipped me on my back. “My turn,” he ordered. The robe I was wearing had already fallen open completely, and he wrapped his arms under my thighs and used his tongue to explore my welcoming folds. I knew I wouldn’t last long, and when he increased the pressure to my core, I went over the edge. Calling out, I reveled in the release. I was vaguely aware of scampering paws and hooves on the other side of the
small wall that separated us from the critters. I must have been louder than I thought to scare off the gang.

  Before the waves of pleasure subsided, Alex crawled up my body and plunged himself into me. Sometimes, I liked it slow and gentle, but not today, and Alex sensed my need for a rougher ride. Wrapping my legs around him, I rose to meet his hips as they pumped against me. “Harder,” I whispered. He complied, giving me all I could handle. Which, fortunately, was quite a lot. We crested together, remaining intertwined until we both stopped panting.

  Alex rolled to his side, and I did the same, so we faced one another on the narrow chaise. He wrapped me in his arms, and I rested my head against his chest. “Now that’s something we couldn’t do at the palace,” I noted.

  “Not unless we wanted an audience.”

  “Can you imagine what your mother would say to us if she found out we’d been going at it in one of the gardens?”

  Assuming a high-pitched voice reminiscent of the queen’s, Alex scolded, “It is unacceptable for the crown prince and his consort to be seen mattress dancing in the out of doors. Aside from the impropriety, one must consider the ramifications of coming in contact with noxious weeds that might cause a nasty rash on your nether parts.”

  When I stopped laughing, I said, “I prefer a man who considers the ramifications of coming.”

  “It is an excellent and oft overlooked quality,” Alex conceded in his normal baritone. He rested his head atop mine. “Are you upset that the wedding will be earlier than you wanted? I know you hoped to draw out the process as long as possible.”

  “You say that like I don’t want to marry you. That’s not true.”

  “I know you love me, but I can’t help thinking you still have some residual issues concerning how your previous marriage ended. I do not want you to feel rushed into this; I’ll find a way to get my mother to back off.”

  For a long time, I had an almost pathologic aversion to the idea of marching down the aisle a second time. However, any deep-seeded fears I once harbored vanished somewhere along the way.

  “It’s not that I don’t want to marry you. I just don’t want a huge to-do of a wedding. Whatever your mother has planned, it will be like a circus with you and me as the act in the center ring.”

  Alex sighed. “I know, but it kind of goes with the job description. Crown prince, giant, lavish wedding. If it’s any consolation, it’s not my choice, either. I’d much prefer something smaller and more intimate.”

  Suddenly, everything came into focus. I pulled away and stared purposefully into those cornflower blues I loved so well. “How much do you trust me, Blondie?”

  *****

  Apparently, a lot.

  “Are you sure this is what you want?” Rachel asked, for like the millionth time in the last twenty-four hours.

  “Positive. I’ve never wanted anything more.”

  She glanced around the room. “But this is so not what I expected.”

  I adjusted the bodice of my strapless, white silk gown and checked out my reflection in the full-length mirror. “You were right; this style looks great on me. Really emphasizes the girls,” I added, amazed I actually had cleavage. “I should know better than to discount fashion advice from a pro.” I decided not to form-bend earlier, even though the head of the dragon still tattooed across my shoulder blades peeked out over the back of the outfit.

  “Yeah, you look beautiful, but when you said we were going to Las Vegas, I thought we were here to gamble. See a few shows.”

  “We wanted it to be a surprise.”

  “This is a surprise, all right,” she mumbled.

  “Look, I just want to marry Alex on my own terms, with only the people I really care about in attendance. This way, we’ll already be married when we have to endure the ceremony from hell in Courso. All the pressure will be off.”

  “Won’t your future mother-in-law be pissed off if she discovers you two jumped the gun?”

  “Who’s going to tell her? Even if someone slips up, it will just be a human wedding. She can still preside over our official Courso one.”

  “And what about your family?”

  I wasn’t that close to my sisters, and my mother hadn’t really forgiven me for divorcing my two-timing ex. “It would have been nice if my dad was here,” I admitted. “But I don’t think he’ll hold it against me. As for everyone else, they’ll adjust.”

  The door opened, and Tannis leaned her head in. “Ready?”

  “Is everyone here?”

  “Yep. Ulut is with Alex, and Sebastian is waiting to walk you down the aisle. You have all your good-luck tokens?”

  The undies I wore before the first time Alex and I got lucky served as something old, my dress was new, and I’d borrowed a string of pearls from Rachel. The something blue was Keem’s egg, tucked inconspicuously between my boobs. Whether it still worked to detect the proximity of the ratfuck who gave it to me wasn’t clear, but there was no way I’d ever leave home without it again.

  I took a deep breath. “Yes, so I guess I’m ready.” I smiled at my gorgeous best friend, and my even more gorgeous, soon-to-be sister in their beautiful and matching deep purple gowns. Vegas was probably the only place in the world where you could pick out both the bride’s and the bridesmaid’s dresses at seven a.m. and have them altered by noon. “This may be the only wedding ever where all eyes will be on the attendants instead of the bride,” I complained.

  “Or the guy officiating,” Rachel noted.

  Tannis ushered me into the hallway and nodded to the matronly woman—who looked remarkably like Robin Williams in drag—standing a few yards ahead of us in front of a long, white curtain.

  “Don’t listen to her; no one will be looking at anyone but you. You’re spectacular.”

  The curtain panels opened, and Sebastian came through, looking dashing in his perfectly fitted Armani tux. Rachel sighed. “God, you look sexy.”

  “While I agree with your assessment of my erotic appeal, you may go too far in comparing me to a deity.” He gave her a saucy grin, winked, and added, “But let us wait until later tonight; the likening may be more apt.”

  She giggled “Oh, Bass.”

  “Please, I’m getting married in a minute. I’d like to do so without feeling like I need to hurl.”

  Music poured out from the area beyond the drapes, and Sebastian offered me his arm. “I believe that is our cue, my dear.”

  We moved aside to let Tannis and Rachel go ahead, and the matron handed each a small bouquet of lavender roses and lemon stock. As they disappeared into the chapel, Sebastian leaned in and whispered, “You still have time to bolt. There’s a pink Cadillac waiting outside with the engine running if you have cold feet.”

  “Thanks, but my feet are nice and warm. Let’s go.”

  Mrs. Doubtfire handed me my bouquet, a larger version of the ones the bridesmaids carried, and Sebastian and I stepped inside.

  The chapel was simple: dark wood pews with a short aisle leading to a slightly elevated landing. Rachel and Tannis stood off to the left, with Ulut and Alex on the right. Alex beamed when he saw me. He’d never looked more handsome: tall, impeccably dressed, his golden hair just brushing the shoulders of his tuxedo. Yum.

  I was so overwhelmed that it was a good thing Sebastian was guiding me; otherwise, I never would have been able to keep time with “I Can’t Help Falling in Love” blaring from the audio system. Which would have been a shame, because we ponied up extra for the Hunk-a-Hunk-a-Burnin’ Love package, which included the tunes. I wanted “Jailhouse Rock” to play as I came down the aisle, but the Elvis impersonator, who served as both wedding coordinator and the guy who would marry us, maintained it was too difficult a song to march to. In retrospect, he was right. I should have trusted him; he was the king, after all.

  Apart from the mutton-chopped dude dressed in a white, sequined jumpsuit open from neck to navel, the unusual selection of music, and the fact only two of the participants were human, this was much like any othe
r hastily planned wedding in Sin City.

  The ceremony itself was a blur, but within three minutes, Alex and I were husband and wife. The kiss to seal the deal nearly took my breath away—boy, that man knew how to make a gal swoon—and then we all piled into the pink Caddy and were driven to a fancy restaurant in a big, ostentatious hotel for an expensive, multi-course dinner with overly attentive waiters. It kind of reminded me of meals at the palace, but, thankfully, without the congealed Oxyntberry pie.

  When we’d finished eating, and toasting, and more toasting, Alex and I retired to the honeymoon suite on the top floor. The bed was in the middle of the room, with rose petals the color of blushing cheeks strewn across the satin comforter. There was also a heart-shaped, huge tub in the bathroom. The décor didn’t stop us from consummating our union on almost every horizontal surface in the room, and a few of the vertical ones as well.

  As we lay cradled together in a post-multi-orgasmic haze, I realized there was one pertinent piece of information missing.

  “I don’t know your last name.”

  “Sure you do,” Alex murmured, already half-asleep. “It’s Sunderland. Says so right on the marriage license.”

  I huffed out an exasperated sigh. “No, your real last name. Do royals even have them?”

  “Of course, but it is quite long and hard to pronounce.”

  “Like every other name in your dimension isn’t?” I countered.

  He yawned, and then proceeded to verbalize a string of sounds that I could only suppose was a word. I made him repeat it three times before he gave up, got out of bed, flipped on a lamp, and found paper and a pen. “Here, I’ll write it out for you.”

  He scratched a bunch of letters across the small pad, tore off the page, and handed it to me. I read the letters out loud. “W-E-R-T-I-O-P-A-S-D-F-K-C-N-M? How is that even a word?”

  “Got me,” he said, climbing back under the covers. “But that’s been our family’s surname for millennia. Fortunately, it is used only for official documents and such.”