At this moment, though, holding her so close and feasting on her delicious scent, he knew he was too close to the edge of claiming her for his own. If he wanted a real shot at having her with him for anything more than this mission, he had to follow the mandate to the smallest detail.
He took in a deep breath and savored the smell of her and her obvious arousal for him. Unlike Terrain, Olodians—especially males— had a strong sense of smell that rivaled even the lower beings on the planet Earth, or animals, as the Terrain called them. He made a mental note to use more Terrain-based words to help Kyra acclimate to her surroundings better and faster. He’d already talked with the crew on all ships and instructed them to study all the materials on Earth and its inhabitants, especially those from the North American land region.
He took in another long whiff of her sweet smell that called to him. She was healthy, pure and would be ready to receive him if he was able to take her now. But he couldn’t, bound by the mandate as he was.
As warriors and great hunters, Olodians also possessed the best traits of the lower beings over whom they became lords. Tordin was capable of heightened senses and bodily abilities, including limited flight, enhanced jumping, extraordinary strength and many other traits he realized Terrains didn’t possess.
For the IGA to allow him to pursue her, she would have to demonstrate that she understood he was not a deity and had no special power over her. She must show that her will was still her own and fully intact.
He’d always been fascinated with the Terrains and their ways. That’s why he was so close when the distress call had gone out. He had visited their galaxy many times. During those journeys to the outer fringes of their galaxy, he would scan for the wave frequencies that transmitted their thoughts, beliefs and dreams. This allowed him to catch up on their latest trends. He was fluent in many of their languages, customs and histories. Now in hindsight, maybe it was Kyra all along who kept pulling him back to her galaxy.
He knew Terrain would label him and his men as what they called ’superheroes’ or even gods, based on their abilities. This had been done before. Unlike them, Olodians had evolved to embody the best traits of all living beings in their domain of planets. Millennia ago, when Olodians first visited the small blue planet, the Terrains had been amazed. Their designators of superhero and god came from the Terrains’ interactions with Tordin’s ancestors after observing what they could do. He understood that. But he wanted the Terrain he currently held in his arms to see him for what he was—here to serve and honor her.
She stirred again. He could tell by her vitals that she would awaken soon. He would have to set her down before she woke and realized she was in his arms and on his lap. Her feminine essence drove him wild with want. The best thing was to start now to put some distance between them.
He would have to get an application from the Healing Section to dull his desire for her. It had been years since he’d needed such applications for the surge. He’d learned to control his baser urges. Those applications were more for the younger warriors like Jalek, but this was an unction calling and harder to overcome. He would humble himself and take the application if it ensured he honored her and his father.
His thoughts drifted to the despicable male they held in the guest area. He complained constantly and had a terrible outlook on life. Nothing was good enough— the nourishment, their ways, and even the accommodations. Many of the crew in that area had asked to be transferred to avoid having to interact with him. He was divisive, and it took much patience not to drop this Brantley off at the next planet, no matter if it could sustain humanoid life or not.
It seemed Kyra’s dislike of the little male was well warranted. Tordin especially disliked how often he asked about her and what she was doing. He suspected the male had feelings for her that she didn’t return or want to receive from him. He would have to make sure this male Terrain was watched closely now that Kyra was awake and able to move about the ship. Tordin would do everything in his power to honor her request that this Brantley be kept far away from her and from the sleeping one, as well.
8
Kyra’s eyes popped open, and she looked around.
It had happened again. She’d blacked out. How embarrassing. She was laid out on another soft platform, but this one resembled a sofa, its high back for support in a sitting position. Without moving, she gave the room a quick scan to get her bearings.
It all came rushing back. She’d fainted as soon as she’d touched him. But there was something about that touch… She had to remember. Ah yes, he’d shocked her, and the force of it must have knocked her out. Wow, the static electricity on this ship was really amped up. She’d have to remember to watch how she strode across a room. She could take someone out with an electric handshake if she wasn’t careful.
Maybe she could find the operations portion of the ship and take a look at the air composition to see if there was a way to increase the moisture content. Yeah, that should be a quick and easy solution to the amount of static electricity. Depending on their fluids and laws of condensation, she could reroute the collected condensation and aspirate it… her rapid-fire thoughts paused. She felt that familiar feeling. Someone was watching her. That’s when she saw him out of the corner of her eye.
Kyra turned her head just a tad to see the diamond-eyed winner of her ‘Mr. Everything’ competition sitting quietly, watching her. Not only was he as beautiful as before she’d passed out, he was majestic—regal, even—without the air of pomposity she’d assumed he’d have. His expression softened as she looked over at him. She had to swallow the lump in her throat and fought to regain some sort of composure.
Nothing else to do but try and salvage this major blunder. Successful diplomacy was so out of her wheelhouse of expertise. This major gaffe was proof of that.
She’d fainted in the presence of the commander of this entire fleet—Lord Tordin. Not to mention he was the man she’d been dream-humping for weeks. Lord Tordin was her dream sex god. How could this be? She knew it was him. He looked, smelled and moved just as he did in her dreams, except for the clothed and professionally distant part that was real life. Kyra knew it could be bad if she let on she had the hots for him. He was the commander, and she would have to respect him and not act like a horny teenager around the object of her affection. She couldn’t accost this man, no matter how much every part of her wanted it.
Judging by the fact that she wasn’t in a heap on the floor, and there didn’t appear to be anyone else here, he’d had to move her to the sofa thingy by himself.
Oh joy, I fell out like a crazy fan girl as soon as I met him. And now he knows I weigh just as much, if not more, than I look. What a great way to impress the awesome, beautiful, sexy-as-hell commander guy.
Then she chuckled to herself. Maybe I have a thing for commanders, she reasoned as she remembered her slight crush on Commander Mark from the space station. The thought of him brought on a wave of sadness. He was dead, and she hadn’t been able to save him. Kyra pushed back the onslaught of a crying fit. She wouldn’t do this, not here while this man was watching her so intently. She took a few breaths and resolved to act like she had some sort of strength and composure. She wouldn’t have an emotional breakdown in front of him. No, she’d save that for when she returned to some private area.
“I apologize Lord Tordin, for my inability to stay conscious long enough to have a complete conversation. How long was I out this time?” she asked, hating how she now had a tendency to black out since leaving the space station. “It’s starting to get embarrassing.”
Kyra sat up to get a better look at him. Lord Tordin was poised, calm, confident and collected—everything she wanted in a man. Still, she couldn’t believe how much bolder she felt around him than any other she’d been attracted to. Normally, she’d be hiding or going the other way. With Lord Tordin, she wanted only to get close enough to sneak another touch of him.
“No Kyra, please call me Tordin—just Tordin. And you don’t ne
ed to apologize. That is to be expected. Not only did you have smoke inhalation and poisonous gas in your lungs, you are still acclimating to our ship’s gravity and air concentration. They are slightly different from yours.” He leveled those brilliant eyes of his on her and asked, “Are you up to talking? I’ve cleared my schedule to speak with you and answer any questions you might have. But only if you’re up to it. I don’t want you to wear yourself out. So, any questions?”
Yes, will you marry me?
She shook her head to clear the thought and then realized he might think she was signaling she had no questions. In reality, the only things she did have were questions. Being around him clouded her mind with thoughts of being with him. She tried hard to ignore the powerful pull he had on her.
Tordin sat in a chair across from the long sofa. Based on what she was experiencing, that distance was a wise choice. She was still trying to figure out a way to cop a feel.
Is this how pervy guys feel around women?
She was twisted and sprung over this god-like man. The thought that she could possibly objectify him as many men on Earth had done to women made her almost sick. She’d do better by him in her thoughts. No more lusting after the commander. The nausea of personal disgust passed when she looked at him again and noticed he beamed a smile back at her.
He was so much like a human man except for his larger size, unnatural beauty and the almost glow-in-the-dark, piercing, gray eyes. Power emanated from him. His long legs extended out in front of him, casually crossed at the ankles as he talked with her, looking better than in the best of her dreams. She was certain if he were closer, she’d try to climb up into his lap and stay forever.
You’re objectifying him again, her thoughts accused. But she couldn’t help it. That was how strong the pull was for her, being this close to him. She wanted to touch him and be touched by him. No, she wanted to wrap herself around this man like his favorite blanket.
She shook off the haze of desire and tried to remember what he’d said. She could do this and act like a good and normal representative of her home planet. She’d be a sane person and get through this. What was it he said?
Questions. Ah yes, what were her questions?
Kyra willed herself to return to the practicality that had served her so well. She was intelligent and capable of so much more than lusting after the commander of this fleet of alien spaceships. With a will of steel, she said, “Where are we, and when will we be returned to our home planet?”
He sat up, set the digital tablet down and answered, “We are in a suspended vacuum hyper sling transport, heading toward a galaxy approximately forty of your Earth’s light years away. When we arrive at our destination in the equivalent of a month of your Earth days from now, it will be a little over forty years later on your planet.”
He leveled a blank look at her. She couldn’t read him, but the words she worked hard to process left her numb, as well. Was she stuck here? Would she never see home again?
“So you’re not going to return us to our planet?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
“No, dear Kyra. When your vessel failed, we had to bring you onboard. There is no way we could have returned you to the surface of your planet without detection. It is currently against the mandate of our governing body to reveal ourselves to Terrains.”
“Who are these Terrains? Can’t you let me speak with them? I could make a great case and agree to sign confidentiality agreements. I’m sure all of us would.”
His soft laugh made her belly quiver with want. “The Terrains are you, your people. That is how you are known to us. Kyra, what do you call yourselves?”
“Americans.”
“No, not your country, your planet! What do you call yourselves? Earthians, maybe?”
Kyra had never thought about it. The only thing she’d ever heard was that stupid name, Earthling. It always sounded so pejorative in its context. She could live with being called an Earthian.
“Earthian, that’ll work. You can refer to me, I mean us, as Earthians.” She wanted to see if there was any other way to get back home. Maybe it wasn’t too late to try and get there. “Tordin, what if you gave us a shuttle to get there on our own? I wouldn’t hold you responsible for getting us back to Earth. Give us a shuttle from your reserve, and we can find a way back. I’m pretty good with a star map.”
“Ha! You, dear Kyra, are humorous. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work like that. Even if you took this ship—and don’t think about doing that—by the time you made it back to your galaxy and planet, everyone you know would be at least twenty Earth years older. We’ve been traveling for the equivalent of two plus cycles of Olodian on-board time or almost five of your earth days already. Back on your planet, you’ve already been gone for at least seven to ten years. Going back would not help you rewind time. I do offer my sincerest apology.”
She sat there trying to classify what this information meant to her. It felt weird because when she thought about it, who was she trying to go back to anyway? Her family was deceased, and her best friend was here with her. She was not losing too much of anything except the comforts of home and familiar surroundings.
Phoebe, on the other hand, had parents and siblings who must be missing her terribly. As for Brantley, she couldn’t care less what he’d left behind. He probably had no one, either, as he’d most likely pissed them all off or managed to get ‘unrelated’ or disinherited, thanks to his sheer power to annoy.
Tordin was right. There was no way to get back home. This was her new life. She may as well make the best of it. There would be no clicking her heels three times this go-round.
She asked, “Is this place we’re heading to going to be my new home?”
“No. Your new home will be on my planet, Olodia. Once I’ve finished this mission, we will return to Olodia. You’ll be under the protection and provision of my father, Emperor Gordin.”
Something deep within Kyra rebelled at this. She wanted to be with Tordin, not to live in some harem of his father’s on an alien planet. Maybe she could prove herself and stay on the ship as an operations analyst. She hoped Tordin would overlook that her last position ended in the station exploding, but that wasn’t her fault. All she knew was that she wanted to stay with him. She didn’t want to be separated from him for even a moment.
Odd. I don’t know him well enough to be this attached. Please don’t let me have some illness from the alien air that makes me unnaturally attracted to the commander, she pleaded, thinking she may be losing her mind.
Kyra didn’t like how he affected her, and yet she did. The idea of working appealed to her in spite of her desire to stalk the commander. She would work and make a new career and home for herself. She wouldn’t have to be some damsel in distress, living in an Emperor’s harem. Yeah, that’s what she’d do.
Kyra engaged her mental gears to figure out a way to earn a spot on his ship. She’d show him she could be invaluable to him and his fleet. Now wasn’t the time to ask about that. She’d find out how to do it without tipping her hand. Before he knew it, he’d have no other choice than to allow her to work on the ship and continue to travel—with him, of course.
Instead she asked other, more trivial questions, loving the sound of his thunderous voice. It wasn’t loud, but it filled the room like the rumblings of a storm brewing. She loved the vibration of it and how it made her entire body hum with joy.
When she came to the end of questions that didn’t border on the silly, Tordin looked as if he had a deep thought. She watched him pick up a tiny disk from the table and place it against his neck, directly under his ear. Then his lips moved, and she heard the slightest sound, like he was talking to himself. It looked like a cool telecommunication technology Kyra would love to examine. How did the disk adhere to his neck like that?
Tordin finished what she realized was a call. She’d made out he was speaking in another tongue by the way his full lips moved. When he finished, he spoke a few words to her in the same langua
ge and soon realized what he was doing. She was fascinated, watching him switch from his alien tongue to her English one so flawlessly; it looked like artistry in motion to her.
“Kyra, your living quarters are ready. When we’re done, you are going there to get settled. As I’ve directed, Malm has arranged for you to have a tour of the ship. You’ll get the ship’s layout and have the freedom to move around. I want you feel comfortable on board. You are my guest and as such, you are able to go about the ship in peace. No one will harm you. You are under my protection. And if you have need of anything that has not been provided, please do not hesitate to let me know personally,” he said in a professional tone.
She tried not to sigh. She wanted to be in the action, in the thick of things, not some ‘guest’ of the commander, floating through life on board.
“Commander, I do have a request.”
“Yes, I will do my best to accommodate you if it is possible.”
“All right then, I want to work. Specifically, I’d like to work in your operations department, the area that keeps the ship running properly.” There, she’d gotten it out. Now she’d wait to see what he said.
It didn’t take long for his reply.
“But of course. We’d be happy to have you join the crew, and we can use the added help. If you don’t mind the steep learning curve, I think it will be good for you to have something to do. Get rested and take this.” He passed her another disk like the one he still wore—without touching her.
“What’s this?” she asked excited to get her hands on the piece of technology.
“It’s sort of like your mobile telephony. This one is calibrated to contact me directly. When you wish to speak with me, place it along this muscle of your neck,” he said. Instead of running his finger along her neck, he demonstrated by tracing a line along his own. Kyra was surprised at how her heart fell with the missed opportunity to have him close enough to touch. “It will adhere on its own. When you wish to contact me, say my name. ‘Tordin’ is all you have to say, no Lord needed, and it will notify me of your wish to communicate with me. Likewise, if I wish to contact you, even if you do not have it on, wherever you placed it before, there will be a humming sensation only you will hear. Place it on or if you are wearing it, touch it lightly, and it will connect the link. Now you try it.”
Rescued By Tordin: Olodian Alien Warrior Romance Page 9
