Paax: Warlord Brides (Warriors of Sangrin Book 1)

by Nancey Cummings

  She stole nervous glances in his direction. She did not think he noticed but he noticed. She deserved to have a mate who would comfort her, woo her, and take the time to make her feel adored.

  She was a woman worthy of adoration.

  Paax rubbed the tattoo on his chest. It burned bright merely from the thought of her fresh, summery scent. There were so many things to appreciate about the lovely Earth woman, like her generous breasts, the sway of her hips as she walked, or the strong curve of her calves, but he always returned to her intoxicating scent. It reminded him of something, a beloved place he visited long ago.

  It reminded him of home.

  She deserved many things he could not give her.

  Mercy

  Paax led Mercy to the heart of the home, a combination kitchen and sitting room. The walls were painted a simple white and the room was sparsely furnished. Paax had the necessities: a comfy chair, a sofa and worn wooden table with chairs. The kitchen area was immaculately clean. The space was simple and clinical in its functionality. It needed a woman’s touch.

  “You have a lovely home,” Mercy said.

  Paax nodded. “You are kind but I can tell you’re lying. My home is empty. I haven’t spent much time here, or anywhere, other than my Warlord’s battleship.”

  Mercy thought back to the loud, aggressive Warlord. What kind of environment was his battleship? Stern, stoic and strategic. Not homey.

  “Do you like it?” he asked.

  “What I’ve seen.”

  “I’ve modeled it on my mother’s house.”

  “She was Sangrin?”

  “Yes. We lived with her until our warrior training. My brother and I were always climbing something or frightening the cows. I imagined the same environment for my own sons.”

  “I’m a city girl, myself,” Mercy said. “But I like the idea of the country life.”

  The smallest grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

  A fire blazed in the hearth, casting a warm glow in the sterile room. On the ledge near the fire were a cast iron tea kettle and the implements of the tea ceremony waited. A plush white hide of some great shaggy beast spread out on the floor. Paax directed Mercy to one of the thick cushions and helped her kneel. He settled across from her, directly next to the fire, folding down gracefully with his knees on the cushions. He waited, hands folded on his lap.

  Mercy mimicked his posture and carefully folded her hands on her lap, double checking that the sleeves were straight.

  “Before we begin the ceremony, let me say that you are remarkable,” Paax said.

  Mercy blushed. She wasn’t anything special. “No, you don’t even know me—”

  “I know enough. You woke up this morning in another star system. I tore you away from your family and brought you into turmoil, yet you agreed to complete the mating when you have every reason to deny me.” He paused, throat working with a swallow. The firelight cast his features into stark relief against the shadows, highlighting the handsome profile. His gaze held hers, bright blue eyes piercing into her consciousness. “You amaze me, Mercy Drake.”

  My gaze shifted down to my hands. “You flatter me, Doctor Nawk.”

  “Paax, please.”

  Mercy repeated his name, a slight smile on her lips. “Explain this ceremony to me, Paax.”

  “For my mother’s people, the people of Sangrin, marriage is a simple and private affair between a man and a woman. We prepare a special blend of tea and contemplate our shared lives. When the tea is ready, we drink. The tea is meant to aid relaxation but can have… odd effects. Some report euphoria or visions. ”

  Interesting. “You’re not certain?”

  “I have never shared the marriage ceremony with another,” he said frankly.

  “Of course.” Mercy’s blush returned. The Mahdfel mated for life. “We drink the tea and then we are married?”

  “Technically, we are already married. You signed a contract on Earth.”

  “It’s not finalized.” Not until they had sex. The marriage contract was very clear that the brides were not to be forced or coerced into sex without consent. Technically, Mercy didn’t have to go through with the ceremony until she was ready.

  He lifted her chin, holding her gaze and thumb brushing across her lower lip. Her lips parted, allowing his thumb to probe inside. Her tongue flicked against the digit, tasting the salt on his skin. Desire flared in her core and she squeezed her thighs together. Yeah, she was ready.

  “Allow me to prepare tea for you, mate,” he said.

  He picked up a red cloth, folded it twice and used it to remove the cast iron teapot. Gently he poured the boiling hot water into a white ceramic tea pot. He set the kettle down on a trivet on the ledge, along with the cloth. With both hands, he picked up the teapot and swirled the water, heating the vessel. Satisfied, he empted the hot water into two cups.

  Paax moved with a refined grace of a trained predator, controlled and thoughtful. The well defined muscles of his shoulders shifted under the robe. Her eyes kept returning to the black horns sweeping back from his forehead. What would they feel like if she touched them? Hard? Soft? Could he sense her touch on his horns? Was it true what Earth girls said about the size of a Mahdfel’s horn? Her gaze shifted quickly down to his lap. She shifted on the cushion, squeezing her thighs together. She hoped it was true.

  Mercy tried not to stare but this was her soon-to-be husband, after all. Wasn’t she allowed to appreciate his physical perfection? And speculate about the size of his horns?

  He picked up a scoop and wiped it down with the cloth. It was clean before but Mercy appreciated the gesture. In a smooth motion, he held up the tea leaf cannister and gently rolled the blend onto the scoop. He then emptied the scoop into the teapot. Finally, he added the hot water.

  Paax’s attention returned to the cups. He repeated the earlier swirl, letting the hot water warm the smaller vessels. Then he poured the water into a bowl and set the bowl aside.

  He sat back on his heels and folded his hands in his lap.

  “Do we—”

  He shook his head, indicating silence. Breathing deep, he closed his eyes. Now was the time for contemplation.

  Mercy could not still her mind or close her eyes. The front of Paax’s robe fell open, revealing a hard muscled chest covered in an elaborate black tattoo. Instinctively, Mercy licked her lips. It wasn’t creeping if they were married, right? Where was her head? That morning she was on Earth, single, and dreading being matched to an alien. Now she couldn’t stop staring at his pecs or his horns.

  He opened one eye and caught her staring. The tattoo flickered from black to a bright, glowing white. Mercy blushed and glanced down to her lap.

  Tea steeped, he poured the brew into the cups with care and precision. One hand cradling the cup on the side and the other from the bottom, he held out the cup for her. Mercy accepted with both hands and mimicked how he held his own cup. She cradled the warm ceramic cup, letting the heat seep into her fingers.

  He sipped the tea and nodded, indicating she should drink.

  The tea was dark, nearly black. A heady fragrance of rose and light grassy notes drifted upward. The first taste was tart, vanishing quickly to reveal a subtle note of fruit. The second sip was more palatable.

  Paax drained his cup. Mercy followed, nearly gagging on the bitter brew. He refilled the cups. Mercy accepted the refill without enthusiasm. She wasn’t feeling relaxed, euphoric or experiencing a vision. Well, if you didn’t count ogling Paax. She didn’t mind admiring her husband. He was certainly a vision.

  “It gets easier,” he said. In one swift motion, he tilted back his head and gulped down the tea. He grimaced.

  “I suspect you’re lying, Paax,” Mercy said. Closing her eyes, she downed the bitter tea. Coughing, she handed the cup to him. As their hands touched, Mercy paused. Did she really call the scary Mahdfel warrior a liar? She covered her mouth, eyes wide in surprise. What was in that tea?

  His expression was blank,
unreadable. He was going to send her home. Mercy just knew it. She’d be sent packing back to Earth, a rejected bride, and her mother’s medical care would disappear.

  “You see through me, wife.” His eyes crinkled in amusement, a genuine smile on his lips.

  Mercy sighed in relief. “What are we supposed to do now?”

  A rumble came from her stomach. Mercy blushed. “Sorry. I guess I haven’t eaten since this morning.” Even then, nerves dampened her appetite. A couple sips of orange juice and a piece of toast was not a meal.

  “Let me feed you, wife.” Paax rose in a graceful movement, holding out a hand for Mercy. Her own limbs were stiff and protested as she climbed to her feet. “We can do anything we desire, including sharing a meal.”

  The kitchen, attached to the great room, was bare of all but the most basic supplies. “You’re not much of a cook,” Mercy said, opening empty cabinets.

  “I use the reconstructor mostly,” he said. He opened a cabinet door, revealing a chilled pantry. “But I have some fresh fruits.”

  “Sounds great.” Reconstructor food was largely bland and flavorless but had the necessary amount of nutrients and calories to be technically “food”. There would be changes in the kitchen, starting with real food.

  “I suspect you’re the liar now, Mercy Drake.” He removed cartons from the cabinet. One clear plastic tub contained berries which appeared to be like strawberries. The second carton contained wedges of a clear jelly with flecks of embedded gold. The third was a tub of small, pink blossoms.

  “Fruit is great. Reconstructor stuff I can do without. Luckily your wife likes to cook, so she won’t be using that contraption.”

  “What if your husband likes the taste of cardboard?”

  “My husband’s been a bachelor too long.”

  Amusement returned to his eyes. He plated the fruit, presenting her one of each. “Meffus,” he said, pointing to the strawberry. “Bricyll jelly and Eirin blossoms.”

  Paax picked up the strawberry and brought it to her lips. She opened instinctively. “Close your eyes.”

  She did. He rolled the fruit along her lips, the flesh prickled with tiny seeds. She swiped it with her tongue, licking his fingers in the process. Taking a small bite, a slightly sweet and sour flavor burst on her tongue. Not like a strawberry after all. He gradually feed the berry to her, her teeth sinking into the flesh nibble by nibble. When she finished the piece, her greedy lips held onto his fingers, teeth nipping just hard enough.

  The jelly this time. Paax held a bite sized piece on the palm of his hand. Mercy leaned down and her lips wrapped around the confection. Surprisingly firm and subtly flavored like citrus, she chewed before swallowing. She grabbed his hand and licked the palm clean, lapping up any trace of the citrus flavor.

  He picked up the tiny pink blossom. “Open,” he commanded. He placed the blossom in her open lips. “Swallow. No chewing.”

  Mercy swallowed the blossom whole. Chilled honey trickled down her throat. “Oh wow.” Her eyes flew open. “I think that’s the best one.”

  “Eirin blossoms are a delicacy.” He picked up another blossom and repeated the procedure. This time, Mercy grabbed his hand as she swallowed the blossom. She tenderly kissed the tips of his fingers, taking each one into her mouth and sucking.

  The collar of his robe fell open. The tattoo glowed a brilliant white.

  Mercy paused. “What is that?”

  Paax removed his robe, now entirely nude. Quickly, Mercy’s gaze swept over his form, taking in his physical perfection. Not an ounce of fat on the warrior scientist. Every muscle was hard and well defined. His abs rippled for days. His thighs were massive trunks. And his cock… A darker shade of plum, almost black, and thick. And hard. A series of ridges up along the side. Hmm. That was interesting. The head glistened with precum. Everything about this Mahdfel warrior shouted vitality.

  And she worried about getting an old man.

  Her eyes returned to the swirling, massive tattoo. The pattern covered his entire chest, staring at the collarbone and covering both pecs. It extended down well past his ribcage.

  Mercy extended her hand to touch but paused. “May I?” He nodded. She placed her hands on his considerable shoulders. Her hands glided over his velvety skin and drifted to the tattoo. The inked skin felt smooth. It was dyed black but glowed white.

  “The pattern is my clan, my victories and my defeats.”

  “Defeats?” Mercy couldn’t imagine this prime specimen of Mahdfel warrior being defeated.

  “It is a short sighted fool who does not learn from their mistakes.”

  She nodded. “But the glow?”

  “For you. It means I desire you.”

  Chapter Four

  Paax

  That blush again. Such a strange woman.

  He reached for her hand. An electric thrill sparked when their skin touched. Mercy’s breath caught. The warmth from her was more intoxicating than the tea. She leaned forward and kissed Paax quickly.

  His arms wrapped around her, pulling her close. His mouth claimed hers, eager and hungry.

  Mercy’s eyes were hooded and burning with longing. “Is this the tea?” she asked.

  Paax paused but did not pull away. “It relaxes only. It cannot make you do anything you are uncomfortable with.”

  “Oh.”

  She felt so light in his arms, like a bird that would fly away if he moved suddenly.

  “May I touch your horns?” she asked. He nodded and lowered his head. Carefully, as if she expected him to rear back in pain or surprise, she lifted a hand to his horn. She stroked downwards from the tip, towards the base. Paax closed his eyes and moaned.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, quickly withdrawing her hand.

  “No.” He grabbed her hand and brought it back to his horns. “It is very pleasurable.”

  “It feels... velvety. Hard but soft underneath. Does that make sense?” Her fingers circled the base, stroking where the horn’s protuberance met flesh. Paax fought to hold back another moan as she caressed the most sensitive part of his horns.

  “It is cartilage. Hard on the outside, softer in the center.”

  “What purpose do they serve?”

  A grin flickered across his face. “To give pleasure.”

  His little star blushed fiercely, turning a deep pink, and drew back her hands.

  “Are you comfortable?” he asked.

  Mercy answered with a smile, loosening the tie on the robe. The silken fabric fell off her shoulders in a quiet hush.

  His hungry gaze ate up her. Long, dark hair spilled over her pale shoulders, stopping at the swell of her breasts. He longed to suck on those rosy tips. Her stomach had a comfortable roundness, her waist trim, and the curve of her hips was beyond description.

  She was perfection.

  Paax never had the time, or the inclination, to chase after women. His work was important. Now, with Mercy standing before him in just a pair of panties and bra, his work seemed trivial.

  “Paax?” she asked nervously.

  So eager to please him. He remembered to smile. His smile put her at ease.

  “It’s time I taste the fruits of your world.” That blush again, such a pleasing pink, spread across her face and her chest. He led her by the hand back to the fire. She shimmied out of her remaining garments.

  Kneeling on the rug, he twisted his fingers into her hair. He buried his face into bend of her neck, breathing deep the scent of her. Summer. Sunlight. Every joyful memory of racing through the tall grasses with his twin.

  He kissed the delicate skin, groaning. She trembled from desire. Soon. Soon he would sink in the wet heat of her core, claim her, and fill this remarkable woman with his sons.

  He took her breasts into his mouth, sucking forcibly with teeth grazing her nipples. Wet and hot, his tongue seared a wide path across the underside of her breast. Mercy leaned into him, arching her back, dazed by pleasure before returning to herself. “Paax,” she murmured.

&nbs
p; His need for her was too great. He couldn’t think beyond his throbbing cock. Mercy deserved to have him slavishly kiss every inch of her, to make her come on his hands and then on his tongue. Only then would he claim her but his need was overpowering. “I’m sorry, little star. I cannot wait.”

  “Claim me, husband.”

  He knelt between her thighs and lifted her hips, pulling her onto him. His large hands raised her without a problem. He was in her suddenly and roughly. Mercy exhaled in surprise from the pressure of so much in her. Features half illuminated by the firelight, a smile played at her lips. Her pussy gripped him tightly, fitting like a glove. He stretched her like a beast, moving in deeper.

  Paax cast a shadow over her.

  Every stroke back was slow and the push forward was hard. Mercy’s breasts jiggled from the force. Her back arched. She braced herself against the floor but Paax held her in place. She tilted her head back and moaned. Raising her thighs to his shoulders, he plunged deeper. His rhythm was relentless, only going forward and never pausing.

  Her core wrapped tightly around him. His release curled at the base of his spine. Too soon. She did not have her climax yet. Paax may have been impatient, but he was not selfish. He grunted and rolled to one side. He pulled her on top of him.

  On top, the firelight illuminated Mercy wholly.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said, knuckles brushing against her lips. Her eyes closed, leaning into his touch. His fingers glided over the area where the delicate skin of her neck met her shoulders. He would sink his fangs into the tender flesh, marking her to remove all doubt. “I will claim you here.”

  She lifted herself and slid her inner fold along the length of his shaft, dragging her slick skin along his rock hard member. She paused in the journey to let the head probe her entrance, savoring the sensation of soft skin as it gave way to the rigid, engorged head. Every fiber of his being demanded that his little star impale herself on his cock and ride him into a screaming orgasm, but he must have patience.

  Paax grunted. His fingers dug into the soft flesh on her hips.