“I’m calling you lazy and selfish,” Mylomon said.
“I should challenge you here and now for such words.” Paax ignored the other warrior and strode towards Mercy’s bed. He examined a chart and the machine next to the bed.
“Omas is not the one who should be Warlord,” Mylomon said. “And you know it.”
“What you’re suggesting in treason.”
“What I’m suggesting is necessary.”
The men held each other’s gaze, silently evaluating the other. Finally, Paax nodded and returned his attention to the chart.
“Where am I, Paax?” she asked.
“Medical Bay on the Judgment.”
“Did they, he,” she said, tossing Mylomon a hard glare, “bring me here to lure you back?”
Paax glanced up from the chart and his expression softened. “No, little star,” he said, brushing the side of my face with his enormous hand. “I brought you here myself.”
“But—”
“No. It is done. You were dying, Mercy.”
The poison. Her throat dried and the next words were like sand in her mouth. “And now?”
Paax opened his mouth to reply but a pale lilac man in a lab coat bustled into the room. “What are you doing with my patient?”
“My wife,” Paax said, shoulders rearing back.
“My. Patient.” The man snatched the chart from Paax and shifted his attention to Mercy. “Kalen Halse, ship physicians to these hopeless idiots. Did they disturb you, my dear?”
Drawn instantly to the doctor, Mercy smiled. He seemed surprisingly young for someone with such authority. “I’m fine.”
“Hmph.” He waved a scanner over her, frowning at the results. “The poison has been removed from your system.”
“I was going to tell her that,” Paax grumbled.
“Were you?” Kalen asked, voice sarcastically sweet. “And were you going to tell her how you dragged in your pet human half dead, sliced to ribbons, and bossed me around the Medical Bay like I was your servant?”
Paax growled a warning.
Kalen ignored him. “Fortunately for you, human,” he said, addressing Mercy, “I’m amazing. Humans heal slower than Mahdfel but the wound is closed. No vigorous activity for two days. And tell your husband to take better care of what is his.”
Paax moved to the bed. “I will take her now.” Paax lifted Mercy from the bed like she weighed nothing.
“No vigorous activity,” Kalen repeated.
“Are you going to supervise me, physician?”
“If you bring her back with so much as a bruise, I will lock her away in quarantine until I’m satisfied she is properly healed.” Kalen continued to shout warnings as Paax carried Mercy from the Medical Bay.
Chapter Eight
Mercy
“Ignore him, little one,” Paax said. Her head rested against his shoulder. “He does not like taking instructions.”
Paax carried Mercy down the wide corridors of the battle cruiser. They passed other Mahdfel warriors who gave short, brisk salutes to Paax. Dim overhead lighting revealed functional grey walls and a practical white floor. Mostly Mercy noticed the silence. Warriors spoke in a hush and moved without a sound. Finally, they stopped at a suit of rooms.
“Is this your cabin?”
“My quarters, yes.”
They entered a large, central room. A sitting area with an entertainment screen dominated the center of the room. A food prep area was off to one side. Weapons lined the other side. Closed doors circled the room, presumably to smaller rooms. Paax carried her through the central door to a bedroom.
Paax set her down carefully on the bed. For the first time she realized she was wrapped in only a bed sheet. He carried her through the ship completely nude. Mercy blushed.
He cocked his head to one side and raised his eyebrow.
“What happened to my clothes?”
“I will supply replacement garments,” he grunted.
“Did you just move in?” Her eyes scanned the room. The lights were dim but Mercy spied shelves along one wall, empty of any personal items. Much like the farmhouse on Sangrin, the suite was practical and had little in the way of creature comforts or personality.
“I have lived most of my adult life on board the Judgment.”
Huh. He so needed a woman’s touch. “It seems rather large for one person.”
“The battle cruiser is as large as a city. We have room for warriors and their families, when they are matched.”
Mercy tried to picture Human-Mahdfel hybrid children running down the silent corridors of the Judgment and came up short. Children needed fresh air and sunshine. “Why did you come back? You walked right into Omas’s trap.”
Paax pressed a glass of water into her hand and remained silent until she drained the contents. “Do not worry yourself, wife.”
“I’ll worry if I damn well please, husband,” she said.
“I had no choice.”
“There is always a choice.”
Paax sat on the bed next to her. His hand, large and warm, rested on her thigh. “Mylomon spoke truly. You are everything to me, Mercy Drake. I believed my life too full for a mate but now I understand it was empty, waiting for you. I have been yours completely since the moment I saw you on my doorstep with snow in your hair. No, earlier. Since the moment I learned of the match, I belonged to you.” The top most edge of the tattoo peaked out from his collar, glowing a bright white in the dim room. “There was no question I would come back if it meant saving you.”
“But Omas will force you—”
“No.” Paax leaned and placed a silencing kiss on her lips. “Mylomon spoke truly. No one can challenge Omas as he is. He is also correct that it is my responsibility to challenge my brother.”
“You can’t.” They were an uneven match. Omas would trounce Paax.
Paax reached into a pocket and produced a syringe filled with an intensely blue fluid. Mercy’s eyes grew wide. “Omas is my creation. I cannot unmake him but I can give myself the same serum.”
“You can’t! It’s too dangerous.”
“This is the second dose. It is already done.”
Mercy threw herself back into the pillow. If she had the strength, she’d storm out of the room but all she could do was roll to the side, turning her back him. “You stubborn man! Did you even consider that injecting yourself with a super serum is something you might discuss with your wife!”
Paax was silent. “It seems I miscalculated.”
“Idiot,” Mercy grumbled.
A chuckle pierced the silence.
“It’s not funny,” she said, tugging the bed sheets over herself.
Paax undressed and stretched down on the bed, pressing himself against her back. His hand rested on her hip, caressing an appreciative circle on the curve of her hip and thigh. He nuzzled into her hair, nipping at her neck. “No one has ever had the courage to call me an idiot, woman.”
“Well you’re being one.” Mercy brushed his hand away. Undaunted, his hand went to the rounded swell of her ass.
“I like it.”
“Hrmp.” She knocked his hand away again. “And what will this serum do to you?”
“My muscle mass is increasing. My senses are heightened. I can smell your arousal, by the way. Please continue this farce of acting indifferent but know that I will have you screaming my name.”
Mercy squeezed her thighs together, aching at his words. “No vigorous activities. Don’t make me tattle to Kalen.”
Paax chuckled. He laid a series of slow and sensual kisses on her neck and shoulders. His hands pushed down the sheet, revealing the expanse of her creamy skin. He rolled her toward him; a finger under her chin guided his mouth to hers. The kiss was slow and deliberate. Her toes tingled with excitement. His tattoo burned white hot.
He rolled on top of her. His lips blazed a trail from the corner of her mouth to her jaw and down the sensitive skin of her neck. The journey ended in the hollow between her breasts.
“You’re so lovely, little star,” he whispered. His hands glided over her smooth skin, caressing her soft curves. His hands kneaded her breasts, pulling at her nipples. They traveled the flat expanse of her belly, rounded the curve of her hips and drove into the valley between her thighs. His fingers parted her lower lips, working her slickness, circling her most sensitive spot. On edge all day from constant fear and arousal, she didn’t need much. Mercy trembled and moaned with desire.
His mouth captured a nipple, licking and sucking until the sensitive point swelled. His tongue licked the underside of her breasts and he kissed a slow journey down her abdomen. He paused at the long red slash on her side. The wound healed quickly but not quickly enough for his satisfaction. He growled in anger.
“It’s okay,” Mercy said, hand resting on his head.
“No, it is not. To injure a woman is the greatest crime in Mahdfel society. It is unthinkable.”
She twisted her fingers into his long, black hair. “I’ll be fine. Us Earth girls are tougher than we look. I only need to rest.”
Paax lowered himself to her thigh, his large hands spreading her open. Mercy trembled with anticipation. Gently his large fingers stroked her, like an inspector taking inventory. This bit belonged to him. And this bit. And this over here, too. He pressed his nose in and breathed deeply, taking in her scent. Finally, his large, wet tongue lapped the length of her slit.
Mercy sighed. She wasn’t fragile. She wasn’t going to break. She needed him on her and in her.
This was what she craved.
“Yes, husband,” she moaned. Her hands gripped his horns, urging him on. His tongue flicked her clitoris with speed. Thighs, placed on either side of his head, quivered. Her orgasm welled within her. This time he did remain in place; his tongue keeping the stimulation constant. A finger probed into her. Muscles clenched around the appendage. Her pussy craved a thick cock, craved more.
Right on the precipice, ready to fall over into bliss, he pulled away. Mercy cried in frustration. He gave her a placating kiss on the lips, tasting her salty self. Her husband was tender but also teasing.
He climbed between her thighs, raising her hips to meet him. In one smooth motion, he filled her. It was like being complete for the first time.
He set the pace, eager but not cruel, and pushed forward with certainty. Mercy rose to meet him with each thrust, relishing the slap of his balls as he sank all the way in. His thick cock split her in two. There wasn’t room for anything more but he persisted, out and in, drawing her breath away with each retreat and bringing it back with each thrust.
His mouth claimed hers as her moans became cries. Nothing could stop the wave swelling within her. Pain was a distant memory, replaced with euphoria. She neared her climax.
Finally, he spoke, whispering in her ear between ragged breaths, “You are mine, little star. No one will take you from me.”
The wave broke. Mercy cried out her agreement that she belonged to her Mahdfel husband, completely. There was no one else in the entire universe, only him and her. Her thighs trembled and exhaustion tinged the flush of satisfaction spreading over her like a warm blanket.
He pushed harder now. His cock swelled and pulsed, emptying into her. Her muscles clenched around his cock, accepting every scalding hot drop of his seed.
With a small laugh, he collapsed next to her. On his back, he turned his head towards her and said, “Omas believes he has me trapped but he has only caught himself. I will challenge Omas. I will be the next Warlord.”
His word was absolute.
Chapter Nine
Paax
Paax left Mercy sleeping in his bed. He never wanted to be back on the Judgment but he appreciated how right she looked in his bed, like she belonged. Tenderly, he pulled the blankets over her fragile human form and kissed her forehead. She belonged. He never realized his bed was too large, too empty, until that moment.
In the suite’s common room, Paax sat cross legged on the floor and contemplated his weapon collection. The swords and blasters on display were functional. He trained as a warrior in his youth, some sixty years ago. He was more than proficient in all the weapons on the wall. His favorite, a thin bladed sword, hummed with a blue energy at the edges. Infused, the weapon would never dull and remain sharp enough to split molecules.
Perhaps his fondness for the blade made him biased.
Paax frowned. Even with his favorite weapon, he was no match for Omas. Paax stopped his warrior training fifty years ago. He maintained a regimen of practice and sparring, but that was not enough. Not nearly enough for when he challenged Omas.
Paax could not afford to be honorable when challenging Omas. That was why he already gave himself an injection of the serum. He would cheat.
He breathed deep, calming his mind. Omas would fight dishonorably. He purposefully injured a woman, the most heinous offense to the Mahdfel when women were so rare and precious.
Another breath, exhaled slowly. Tension uncoiled at the base of his spine. He needed to think like his twin. A solution existed. He would find it.
“Meditating? Really, Doc?”
“I am thinking, assassin. Perhaps you should try it.” Paax did not open his eyes or otherwise move to acknowledge Mylomon. The man was Omas’s best warrior and his preferred choice for dishonorable work.
“You come up with any good ideas?”
“Cheating.”
“Some call that ‘using your brains’.”
Paax’s patience broke. “Are you here for a specific reason or to torment me?”
“I came to check on your mate,” Mylomon said.
“She is well, no thanks to you.” His rational mind understood Mylomon had no choice; he simply carried out the Warlord’s command. The irrational part demanded he lunge at the man who would dare to injure his mate.
“You know who is responsible.”
“Yes.”
“And you understand my sincerity when I said the wrong man was the Warlord.”
Paax responded with a nod. “I will challenge my brother. He already decided his fate when he hurt my mate.” When Paax won the challenge, if he won, he would be the new Warlord.
If.
Mylomon studied the weapon collection on the wall, arms folded neatly behind his back. “You love her?”
That was no question at all. Paax was completely, totally and hopelessly devoted to the human woman. “Yes.”
“So soon.”
“It is a matter of biology. She is my match, which stimulates my endocrine system and releases chemicals to inspire devotion and affection. It is how the Suhlik designed us.” His attraction to Mercy was more than biology, though. The human woman was made for him, perfect in so many ways. His love was absolute.
Mylomon spat on the ground at the mention of the Mahdfel’s former masters. “We should be fighting those lizards instead of each other.”
“Were you sent to spy on me?” Paax asked.
“No, I am here to offer you aid.”
Paax doubted the warrior. “So my brother sends you to trick me into treason.”
Mylomon picked up a set of short swords. He tested the weight of each blade and then moved through a set of exercises designed for speed and flexibility. Move faster than your opponent, reach into melee range, stab and then dash away. “You already said you plan to challenge the Warlord. What other treason is there?”
Actually, the topic they barely discussed was closer to mutiny but Paax knew not to split hairs. Mylomon offered to aid him. To offer to help another warrior was a supreme insult, implying the warrior was incapable of victory on their own. Weak. A child. Only those beneath you needed help. Would Paax’s pride prevent him from accepting the warrior’s assistance? His pride had created this crisis.
No, Paax corrected himself. Arrogance created this situation. “I can accept your aid. I can fight dishonorably,” he said.
Mylomon paused in his performance. “There is not a warrior on this ship who would deny you
aid, Paax Nawk.”
“Truly?”
“Omas has been unfit for many turns now.”
“But no one would challenge him? No one younger, stronger?”
“No one is capable.”
“So your hope rests on me? An old, out of practice warrior with more time in the lab than with a sword?”
Mylomon shrugged and returned the short swords to their place in the display. “When can you take the second injection?”
So the assassin knew. “I already did. I need four hours before reaching the full effect.”
Paax watched as Mylomon picked up the blue edged sword. The energized edge hummed faintly. Perhaps it was the serum taking effect, but he could feel the vibration. The weapon resonated with him.
“I will dull the Warlord’s senses.” Mylomon held out the sword to Paax. “It is remarkable how many poisons can be hidden on the edge of a weapon like this.”
Paax nodded. Of course. He needed every dirty trick imaginable to succeed. His pride had no complaints about that, either.
Mercy
Paax wore a suit of thin, exo armor crafted from of a material so black it seemed to absorb the light. The armor molded itself around his body. He wore a modified helmet with a face plate, leaving plenty of room for his horns.
“I prefer you in a lab coat,” Mercy said.
He raised an eyebrow. “Just a lab coat?”
A slow smile tugged at her mouth. “This is serious. Don’t joke now.”
“I am lighthearted.”
The man was impossible. He marched into certain doom and destruction, bantering like she wasn’t going out of her mind with worry. “Can you be a little serious?”
He pulled her toward him. Mercy rested the flat of her palms against the armor. The hard surface felt oddly springy. “You are my heart and you fill me with light.” He leaned down to capture her mouth. The kiss, deep and contemplative, erased her irritation.
“Idiot,” Mercy said, lips tugging up into a smile.
Paax: Warlord Brides (Warriors of Sangrin Book 1) Page 6
