Conan: Stargazer Alien Mail Order Brides #8 (Intergalactic Dating Agency)

by Tasha Black

  Her shoulder ached a little, but not terribly.

  Brooke grinned to herself and unleashed on the bag with a hurricane of kicks and punches.

  Her heart was pounding, her muscles were burning deliciously, and the sweat was prickling on her forehead by the time she decided she’d better stop.

  She threw her gloves back in the box and walked away from the bag to pack up the belts.

  She wasn’t planning to train anymore, and she certainly wasn’t going to be competing. She was probably pushing her luck already with what she’d done today.

  But there was no reason to pack that stuff up first.

  8

  Conan

  Conan carried a box of weights over to the pallet by the door to the gym.

  His muscles were warming up pleasantly, Brooke was nearby, and he would have been having the time of his life if it weren’t for the fact that he was helping her break down her dreams and box them up.

  At least she had decided to put everything in storage. A few days ago she had been convinced it was better to sell everything or trash it. But her friends had talked her out of that, thankfully.

  He finished with the weights and headed for the bags that were hanging in the back section of the training area.

  “What are you doing?” Brooke called to him. She was taking apart the thick puzzle piece mats on the floor.

  “I thought I’d move the bags next,” he told her. “They’re too heavy for you.”

  A strange look crossed her face.

  “Leave them for now,” she said. “Can you help me with the mats instead?”

  “Sure,” he replied, jogging over to join her.

  She smiled up at him and he felt an ache in his chest. She was so beautiful. And it seemed that she was glad he was here.

  When he’d shown up to help, he figured she would send him away. He’d tried giving her space after she sent him away yesterday, but overnight away from her was about all he could bear.

  He had come to the gym and started packing before her workday with the cadets at the academy ended, hoping that if she arrived and he was already working hard she wouldn’t turn him away.

  And while she hadn’t exactly greeted him effusively, she hadn’t asked him to leave either.

  He knelt to gather a stack of mats she had unlocked. He carried them to an empty pallet and came back for another.

  “Do you remember when Elodie Rogers threw her brother for the first time?” he asked, looking at the purple mat where that particular throw had happened. He could still see Elodie’s little face splitting into a grin as her brother Oscar howled with laughter after his mat-smacking flight.

  Brooke smiled in a funny way, but didn’t answer.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  “You miss them, don’t you?” she asked him.

  “Of course I miss them,” he replied.

  “Me too,” she said gruffly, applying herself to the mats again.

  He carried another stack to the pallet, fighting the urge to try and get her to open up. She would open up in her own time.

  Conan only hoped he could afford to wait.

  He and his brothers couldn’t stay hidden forever.

  They finished with the mats and moved on to the trophy case. It wasn’t overfilled - the gym hadn’t been open very long - but Brooke took each statue out so lovingly.

  “Is that yours?” Conan asked, studying one that looked a bit older.

  “Yeah,” Brooke said. “That’s from when I was in high school. I brought it in to help fill the case.”

  “First place,” Conan read. “That’s really cool.”

  Brooke grinned.

  The sound of footsteps came from the stairwell and they both looked up.

  “Hey,” Veronica said. “We were going to walk into town and get sandwiches. You guys want to come?”

  “Sure,” Brooke said. “Give us a minute. We’ll catch up to you.”

  Veronica winked and dashed back up the stairs.

  Brooke waited until her friend’s footsteps faded to silence.

  “Thank you for helping me, Conan,” she said softly, turning to him.

  “It’s my pleasure,” he told her.

  “I know you liked helping me train,” she went on. “Obviously it’s not going to be possible here anymore. But would you like to help me out with the cadets?”

  “I would love to,” he told her, his heart dancing in his chest.

  “On a trial basis, of course,” she said. “I’m not sure if Henderson will be okay with me bringing a volunteer assistant. But if no one complains, you can help out.”

  “Thank you,” he told her. “I will endeavor not to draw any undue attention.”

  She looked him up and down, then grinned. “I don’t think you’ll be able to help that.”

  “Are you saying I’m… distracting?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in a way that he had observed made women giggle.

  Brooke punched him in the arm. But she was smiling.

  “Let’s go get some sandwiches,” she said.

  9

  Brooke

  Brooke looked out over the group of cadets in her afternoon class and decided it was time.

  Conan had been shadowing her all day in his new role as assistant. Other than a couple of the cadets openly ogling him, he had caused no problems.

  Brooke was about to teach the afternoon cadets the same section she’d taught to the two morning groups, both of which Conan had observed. Now that he’d seen it twice, he was probably ready to assist her for the final class.

  “Conan,” she said, gesturing for him to come up.

  He slipped past the rows of cadets and joined her up front.

  “We’re going to demonstrate a standard hip throw with wrist control,” she explained to the students. “Perfect for taking down an armed attacker.

  She motioned for Conan, and he jogged over to face her. Though he wasn’t smiling with his mouth, his eyes were sparkling.

  He likes this, she thought to herself. And she felt pleased.

  “Keep an eye on my hips, and you’ll see how I’m using his momentum against him,” she told the cadets.

  Conan attacked with a rubber training knife, and she grabbed his hand while dipping her hips to get under his center of gravity. She lifted his leg with her own, effortlessly stealing his balance and sending him sprawling to the mat, all the while maintaining control of the hand holding the knife.

  He sprung back to his feet and attacked a few more times, allowing her to demonstrate the throw from multiple angles. When she finished, it was time for the cadets to give it a try.

  She allowed herself to be thrown a few times, doing her best to make it easy for them to learn the motions. On the third throw, the cadet she was working bungled his stance, and she was forced to make a midair correction, landing more on the side of her bad shoulder than she would have liked.

  She sucked in a breath and waited for the pain to blossom. But it didn’t come. Conan noticed her hesitation, and volunteered to take the next few throws.

  Once the cadets were ready to practice on each other, things went pretty smoothly.

  The rest of the class passed quickly, with Conan stepping in to volunteer anytime someone needed help.

  He was good. And a complete blank slate. She’d never taught someone who didn’t have a lifetime of bad habits to overcome. But Conan hadn’t had a physical body long enough to build any.

  She wondered if he was a quick study in other areas as well.

  As the cadets filed out, Brooke found herself feeling excited and a little nervous at the idea of being alone with Conan.

  “That was amazing,” Conan said, his deep voice filling her chest with butterflies.

  “Thank you for helping,” she told him sincerely. “You did a great job.”

  “Thank you,” he said, sounding very pleased.

  “Hey, would you like me to show you a couple of things?” she offered, assuring herself that she was
only talking about martial arts.

  “Yes,” he said immediately. “I would like that very much.”

  “Let’s go back to the gym,” she said. “I need to lock up here.”

  She flicked off the lights while he waited, then they left the building together.

  The night air was rich with the scent of fresh grass. The breeze rustled in the branches of the trees that bordered the far side of the monastery yard.

  Brooke was used to men trying to impress her with bragging or figure her out with endless questions.

  Conan seemed content to walk with her in silence, drinking in the cool, humid air and listening to the night sounds.

  The stars looked so close tonight. Brooke found herself looking for the Big Dipper. It was really the only constellation she knew. Her dad had shown it to her. She was pretty sure it was also supposed to be a bear or something but she’d never been able to see it.

  “They’re so far away,” Conan observed.

  “The stars?”

  “Yes,” he said. “On Aerie they were so close. They lit the sky at all hours.”

  “So no darkness?” Brooke tried to think what that would be like.

  “Not like this,” he said.

  “Does it scare you?” she asked.

  “Only one thing scares me,” he said.

  She looked over at him, afraid he was going to launch into some speech about needing her to become his mate. She wasn’t ready for all that.

  At least she didn’t think she was.

  He was a great guy - hardworking, kind-hearted and humble. And damn, he was hot.

  But he had put his remark out there, and now she had to respond, ready or not.

  “What scares you?” she asked, bracing herself.

  “I’m scared you’re about to kick my butt so bad you won’t respect me anymore,” he said with a wicked grin.

  Brooke laughed and he joined her. She couldn’t help but notice that their laughter sounded good together. His deep bass seemed to harmonize with her throaty alto.

  They had reached the old academy and Brooke unlocked the door. They passed the office and kids’ studio and headed down to the basement.

  Though they had packed up a lot, a small section of mats remained.

  She wished they hadn’t removed the ring already.

  It had taken forever to build, Brooke was really proud that it was regulation size and painted in her gym’s colors - purple and gold.

  The first couple of times she’d thought about taking it apart, she found something else that needed doing first. But the day before yesterday, she’d bitten the bullet and disassembled it.

  At least she could use the remaining mats for a quick training session with Conan.

  They began with a little light sparring. She gradually increased the intensity, letting herself go harder and harder until she was barely holding anything back.

  Conan lacked formal training, but he was so intuitive. He completely focused on her, reacting to her body movements just as she expected him to, without either of them having to say a word. She couldn’t help but wonder how else his attentiveness might come in handy.

  Brooke pushed the thought aside. The training floor was no place to let yourself get distracted.

  She lost herself in the rhythm of the movement, getting more and more daring as she went. Before long, her shoulder was all but forgotten.

  Without thinking, she tried a more advanced technique, catching Conan unaware and sending them both tumbling to the mat in a tangled heap.

  “Are you okay?” Brooke asked, leaning over him.

  She cursed herself inwardly for being so jazzed about her own performance that she’d forgotten he wasn’t an expert.

  “I’m fine,” he said.

  His voice was a purr and there was lightning in those hazel eyes.

  Suddenly Brooke forgot all about the sparring and felt the significance of her position on top of him.

  She wanted to leap off him, dust herself off, pretend it had never happened.

  But she was hypnotized by the expression of naked hunger on his face, the heat of his big body beneath hers, the effortless way he pulled her feelings back and forth between sweet comfort and yawning desire.

  “Brooke,” he whispered, lifting a hand to gently brush her cheek.

  His light touch made her feel like she was filled with helium. She leaned into his hand, clutching his arm as if to keep herself from floating away.

  “Brooke,” he said again, more forcefully this time.

  Her body obeyed before she could make a decision. She kissed him, not gently or sweetly but with all the pent-up passion she’d been trying to hide from him.

  He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back.

  She had just enough time to think about what a good kisser he was for an alien.

  And then she was lost to the drum beat of her need for him.

  10

  Conan

  Conan fought his instincts.

  Brooke was on top of him, soft and accepting, her hips pressing against his in unmistakable invitation.

  Her sweet mouth was on his, their tongues caressing intimately.

  Conan had explored his own body, both in the lab and on his own. He knew what it was capable of - the heat of physical pleasure and then the dissipating warmth of satisfaction. Like eating a delicious dinner after skipping lunch.

  But this was different, so different.

  He was already nearly delirious with lust, and afraid he would lose control of his urges if she continued to move her hips against his rigid organ.

  And at the same time that his body was being driven toward madness, his mind was expanding, unfolding like an accordion sheet of Byzollian metalwork.

  He finally understood what drove the human race to continue. This, this was what motivated them despite the imminent collapse of their environment, the painful challenges of their societal hierarchy, and the economic and emotional difficulty of raising human young to maturation and freeing them.

  The feeling of this one small woman shivering with need in his arms was enough to be worth a thousand lifetimes of darkness.

  It was worth the unlikely tenacity of the whole damned race.

  He pulled back from her feverish kiss.

  “Brooke,” he rasped for the third time.

  She looked down at him, her lips parted slightly.

  He nudged her sideways and was grateful when she allowed him to roll her over on to her back. She had the skill to stop him if she wanted to - he knew that much.

  Something in his chest expanded with pride and delight at the thought that she had submitted to his will, this strong, wild woman.

  But she was already twining her arms around his neck, moaning a little on her exhale in a way that he could feel in his groin.

  He closed his eyes against his body’s demand to possess her, clenched his jaw and prayed for the strength to restrain himself. There was something important he had to do first.

  She stilled beneath him, for which he was grateful.

  He opened his eyes to see his angel, her cheeks flushed, gazing at him as attentively as if she were trying to memorize his face.

  “Brooke Singleton, I choose you as my mate,” he told her. “You don’t have to tell me yet whether you will accept me. But you are my choice and I will have no other. The die is cast.”

  And so it was. It had been cast long before tonight, but she might as well know it.

  She looked worried, so he leaned down to kiss her gently before she could say anything.

  He knew she wasn’t ready to accept him tonight. But choosing her was the first step. And if he was wrong he’d spend the rest of the time he had in this body alone, or trying to convince her.

  She kissed him back and again the lust threatened to engulf him.

  So he worked his mouth down her cheek to nuzzle the tender place between her shoulder and her neck.

  It was as warm and fragrant there as he had imagined it would
be. He kissed her lightly, allowed his teeth to graze her sensitive skin.

  Brooke wiggled under him in a most enticing way as he pressed his face against her skin, licking and sucking until she began to arch her back slightly, pressing her breasts to his chest as if to beg him to turn his attention to them.

  He continued, kissing his way down her chest as he slid a hand up from her waist to cup her left breast.

  Brooke moaned lightly.

  Conan slid his thumb over her nipple. It pressed back against him through the fabric of her clothing, stiff and eager.

  She made no move to stop him when he slid her t-shirt up around her neck and peeled up the covering from her breasts.

  “So beautiful,” he murmured, looking down at her.

  She smiled up at him and again he was reminded of an angel.

  He turned his attention back to her breasts, lowering his head to greet them with his mouth. Her nipples were like pearls against his tongue and he couldn’t get enough. He licked and suckled one and then the other, teasing her with his fingers and mouth until she sank her nails into his shoulders.

  “Lift your hips,” he told her.

  For a moment she seemed to waver, but then she lifted her hips for him and he slid her shorts and underthings down to her ankles.

  Though he was grateful that the single lamp made the place romantic, his hungry side wished he could light the room up like a bio-ship so that he could thoroughly examine the enchantingly beautiful body of his mate.

  She was smaller than he, more delicate. The warmth and fragrance that emanated from her shell-pink sex was so beautiful he realized that too much light might make him crazy with lust.

  And he was determined not to allow himself to let go.

  No, he had overwhelmed her with his words tonight. He would not take his pleasure with her too. It would overwhelm her.

  Brooke watched him, her eyes hazy with lust, her lips swollen from his kisses.

  She propped herself up on her elbows and reached for his shirt, as if to remove it.

  “Not tonight, my love,” he told her.