by Shae Mills
Chelan smiled back and then flinched as his fingers hit a sore spot.
He cocked his head. “Feet here.”
Chelan nodded. “That is why I am sore there. That is his favorite spot to kick.”
Lennon’s eyes widened. “He?”
Chelan smiled. “So says Dar.”
Lennon looked down at his hands as they rubbed over her flesh. “He would know.”
Chelan chewed at her lip, her fingers still toying with his hair. “And your diagnosis? Surely, you know.”
“Dar is right. I would be able to tell by the size alone, but the scanner confirms all. I had simply not said anything in case you did not wish to know.”
“Can you tell how much he weighs?”
“In Earth measures, seven pounds, one ounce.”
Chelan dropped his hair and propped herself up on her elbows. “At six and a half months!”
Lennon pressed on her shoulders and pushed her back down. “What can I say? We are alien, and we are big.”
Chelan held her head. “Christ, I am going to pop.”
Lennon smiled. “No, you are not,” he whispered.
Then ever so gently, his hands returned to her tummy. Though his exam was over, his fingers soothed her, his dovelike touch seeming to ease her aches and her troubled thoughts. She watched him for a long time as his gentle caress covered her from her pelvis to just below her breasts. “What are you thinking?” she asked softly.
Lennon smiled at her. “Just how beautiful women are when they are with child.”
Chelan warmed at his comment so tender. “How so?”
He shrugged as he watched his fingers. “I am not sure. Maybe because it is the visual representation of the deepest of loves.”
“The women in the Guild are pregnant, but not through love.”
Lennon glanced at her. “True, but not you.”
Chelan felt an ache deep within her heart. But she kept her eyes riveted to him. “Many men on my world find pregnancy unattractive, their women undesirable during that time.”
Lennon shook his head slowly. “Then they are fools.”
Chelan paused. Then she moved her hands to his, and he became still. She studied him closely, noticing a hesitation about him that belied something deeper. She gave his hand a small squeeze of reassurance.
He looked deep into her eyes, and his breathing stopped. “You are not like our women. You are all velvet and silk. And you are so femininely full. No rational man would find you unattractive, no matter your pregnant state.”
Chelan stared at him, realizing he was struggling with unexpressed desires and floundering with unfamiliar cultural mores. But he was a man of Iceanea, and she was completely at ease. Finally, she smiled at him as she voiced his unspoken thoughts. “I know you want to touch. I know that in your world, we could share that and more. I know that you could simply offer, and I could simply accept… or not. And I know you have been holding back because of my ways.”
He stared at her swollen belly, her hand over his. When he spoke, his voice was soft and low. “I know that because of our ways and our ease, you have already shared far more than what would be appropriate on your world.”
Chelan grinned. “You mean pregnant women are not supposed to sleep next to their doctors every night?”
Lennon laughed. “What, you mean they don’t? How else are we supposed to monitor the progression of healthy pregnancies?”
Chelan’s eyes sparkled. “Actually, I know that is exactly why you stay with me… and I appreciate it. A high-risk pregnancy in an Empress more than warrants your constant attention, especially in the situation we find ourselves in here, but the degree of attention between us is definitely of your world, something we are now both comfortable with.”
Lennon nodded. “If I admit to my desires, will that damage the trust you have given me thus far as your doctor?”
Chelan smuggled deeper into the pillows. “No,” she whispered. “Of course not. To trust one another, we must be able to speak of anything. I know our cultures differ greatly.”
He gazed deeply into her eyes, and he smiled. “That they do. But cultural mores aside, I must admit that it is odd to be able to touch you at all—I mean, other than professionally.”
Chelan released his hands. “What do you mean? You have touched me numerous times already.”
Lennon nodded. “Commander Dar recommended that I treat you as a friend, that that would render you most at ease.”
Chelan’s brows rose. “And you are having troubles with that?”
He stared at his hand, which still rested on her abdomen. “At first, it was odd. In a military society such as ours, no one touches a Warlord unless invited, much less an Empress.”
Chelan burst out laughing and then caught herself. “Lennon, you are my friend and my doctor, and here on Earth, just the two of us, we are no more and no less. And as a friend, no matter your Iceanean male thoughts, you are allowed to touch my tummy as much as you want.”
Lennon chuckled as he smoothed his hand over her once again. “Watch what you wish for,” he added mischievously. Then she jumped and grabbed for her stomach. Lennon jerked back. “I hurt you?”
Chelan shook her head. “No. But the baby!” she cried. “Something is cramping.”
“Where?”
“Ahh, low and center. Oh my god, it feels like the baby is coming!”
Frantic, Lennon reached for the monitor with one hand and held her hands tight with the other. He watched the monitor for a moment. Then he closed his eyes, and he let his head fall forward.
Chelan looked at him wide-eyed. “Is he all right?”
Lennon took a deep breath and finally smiled. “You scared the life out of me.”
“What happened?”
Lennon shook his head slowly. “Your uterus contracted.”
“What, you mean labor has started?” she asked in a panic.
“No, no. The uterus sometimes does that—just normal contractions triggered for many reasons.”
Chelan felt like she was going to faint. “Oh god. I thought the baby was coming.”
Lennon gave a nervous laugh and wiped his brow. “From the way you jumped, I thought he was too.”
Chelan looked back at him. “I am sorry. I didn’t know what was going on. I have never felt that before.”
Lennon’s hand returned to her belly. “Breast stimulation can do it, orgasms can do it, hormone surges, but sometimes the contractions are spontaneous—just a muscle flex, if you will. The uterus is full of very strong muscle fibers, and sometimes they fire off.”
Chelan collapsed backward, his tender massage calming her. “I have heard of something called Braxton Hicks contractions. They aren’t labor contractions, but they hit some women.”
Lennon nodded. “That is probably what you had. You tell me if they keep coming, which they may do sporadically. The scanner will tell me if they are true full contractions or not.”
Chelan nodded. “Just remind me not to have an orgasm or engage in any nipple stimulation until I am ready to give birth.”
Lennon laughed. “Oh, come on now. You should not curb all pleasurable activities.”
“I will survive,” she mumbled, her heartbeat only now returning to normal.
Lennon looked about and then handed her the rest of her clothing. “Speaking of activities, come. It is time for a walk.”
Chelan accepted his hand and rose up slowly. She pulled her T-shirt down and slipped into long, flannel pants. After she’d added an oversized, heavy wool sweater, Lennon wrapped his shroud about her, helping her with boots and gloves. Then he assisted her out of the tent and stood by her as she stretched and took her first breath of the icy mountain air. She looked at the fresh snow all around and smiled at him. “Just like home.”
“So it is, only still too warm.”
Then they turned and watched as Cainon and two of his men stepped out of the forest. “Good morning, my Lady. You look well.”
Chelan n
odded to him. “I am, thank you, Cai—”
But Chelan did not have time to finish his name. A brilliant flash of light burst from the forest, striking the three men.
Chelan cringed and shrieked with terror as the warriors vaporized before her eyes. Instantly, she turned to Lennon, just in time to see his upper body disintegrate in an ear-piercing hiss of steam and crackling sparks.
Chelan stumbled backward but quickly regained her footing. Then, instinctively, she raced for the forest below her.
Not daring to look in any direction but forward, she ran as hard as she could. Something was horribly wrong, and she needed to get away. As far as she could tell, her only salvation would come as a result of her intimate knowledge of the surrounding wilderness.
Though large with child, shot through with fear and adrenaline, she ran like a gazelle, ducking branches and leaping windfalls with relative ease. Her heart pounded in her ears as she continued her violent descent. She did not know exactly what her destination was, but she knew she was going to do everything to escape the fate that had befallen her men.
As the forest thickened, her pace slowed, and finally she was forced to stop. She leaned against a large tree and tried to get her breath. Nausea threatened, and she gasped for air, her hands supporting her large tummy. She clenched her teeth and attempted to slow her raging heart. Finally, she held her breath and listened, but all was silent. She searched what little she could see of the sky above her, but it was clear.
Chelan took several deep breaths and then straightened. She scanned the surrounding brush—all appeared normal. Taking a few more deep breaths, she closed her eyes momentarily as she tried to think. She had to go down into the valley. She had to find people if that was at all possible, and she had to stay clear of any snow—she would be too easy to track at this elevation. And no matter what, she had to move fast.
She opened her eyes and took a step down the slope only to freeze in place. She looked at the shroud before her, and her heart stopped. Where he had materialized from, she had no idea. But instinct told her he was her adversary, and instantly, she was in flight again.
She darted to the right but did not get far before she was hauled up short by her assailant. She whirled around, fighting viciously to fend off the predator’s assault. But she was no match for his brute strength. Instantly, she was on her back and pinned to stillness.
Chelan closed her eyes against the devil that loomed over her. Finally, she succumbed to his power, her body reserves sapped. She went limp, her only motion that of her heaving chest and muted gasps.
A deep and sinister laugh cut through the chilled fall air, and Chelan’s eyes snapped open. She remained inert as the shrouded figure rose off her and released her. He knelt beside her and slowly pulled back his hood. Then he yanked off his flight helmet.
Layers of blue-black hair cascaded over his shoulders and down his back. He gazed triumphantly down at his prey, his piercing azure eyes staking her to the ground as surely as if they were knives. “At last, we meet, little alien,” he rumbled snidely.
Chelan swallowed hard. If not for the voice, she would have sworn she was looking at Korba himself. But the steely coldness of his eyes indicated otherwise. “Who are you?” she demanded.
He threw his head back and laughed again. Then his smile cooled, and he glared down at her. “You will learn that in good time, but right now, I ask the questions.”
“I have men—”
“Your men are dead!” he boomed. “Your security was vastly underprepared.” He leaned close to her. “And now you are mine, to do with as I see fit.”
Chelan’s heart nearly stopped beating. She watched as he gloated over the fear he had just evoked.
“Now,” he growled. “Get to your feet, and come with me.” He stood.
Chelan remained still as images of Cainon and Lennon ripped through her mind. She clenched her fists. “I will not!” she insisted defiantly.
The huge man jammed his hand down to her chest, clutched her shroud forcefully, and yanked her to her feet.
Chelan yelped with terror and pain, his assault bruising her tender breasts. The man released her suddenly, and she clutched at herself, hunching over and moaning in agony.
The demon stepped back. When Chelan finally caught her breath and looked up, he stood there, hands on hips, face alight with a devilish grin.
“Well, well,” he began, his voice low and ominous. He circled her as a predator would its prey. “What do we have here, a bonus?”
Chelan winced at her discomfort, her arms hugging her breasts tight. She glared back at him. “What are you talking about?” she breathed.
He stepped up to her and tore open her shroud. Chelan flailed at him and then tried to wrench free. But he ducked in behind her and subdued her easily, one arm clamped tight over her throbbing chest. With the other, he opened her shroud completely, his gloved hand smoothing over her distended belly.
Chelan strained away from his vile touch, but he laughed again. Then he released her, giving her a not so gentle shove forward.
His eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “Let us see…” he began sarcastically. “It is not Korba’s—not your Letted mate’s, as it should be.”
He stepped in front of her and raised her chin. “So, tell me, little alien: Who sired your bastard child?”
Chelan tried to get her bearings. What was happening? Who was this Iceanean man? But as hard as she tried to search for answers, her mind was in a fog. Finally, she straightened. “It is of Earth,” she shot back.
“You lie!” he shouted venomously. “No woman of Korba’s would mate a man of Earth. And no bastard of Earth would warrant the Empire’s protection!” He grabbed her shroud roughly, this time high enough to avoid her breasts. “Who is its sire?” he yelled.
Chelan gasped and clutched at her belly. Her world was upside down, and she felt ill. Then he shook her violently, and she gave in. “Dar!” she confessed.
The man released her as if she were poison. He stepped back, his features sobering. “Dar,” he repeated in a whisper. He studied her intently. “Commander Dar?” He squared his shoulders. “Does Korba know of this?”
Chelan clenched her jaw tight, glowering at the man before her.
He looked up at the sky and took a deep breath. “The great Warlord Dar. He challenges the Let and succeeds in impregnating the Emperor’s own mate. No, of course, Korba knows nothing of this.” He shook his head as he stepped up to her. “You are either a fool, little woman, or you have more guts than I would have ever attributed to you. But no matter—it is to my benefit. You have just upped your value as my insurance policy.” He gave her a lecherous grin. “Now, you will come easily with me, or I will bind you and drag you. The choice is yours.”
Chelan tried to straighten again, but her back hurt and her knees wobbled. Her eyes watered as she looked at him. “Why did you kill my men?”
The ebony figure snorted at her. “They were in the way. And remember, I ask the questions. Now, follow me or be bound.”
Chelan’s legs felt like putty, but she obeyed. She stumbled along behind him, the shock of the whole ordeal finally overcoming her. All she could feel was Lennon’s comforting arms around her, and all she could see was his body being blown apart. She was in another time and dimension, locked somewhere in a hell, oscillating between Earth and the Empire with no way out and no salvation.
Time had stopped, and when she again looked up, she was back in what had once been her peaceful meadow. She watched numbly as shrouded figures gathered bodies and goods, heaping them to the side in a large pile. Then the men fired upon the mound, and all was vaporized into oblivion.
Chelan could only pant for air, too stunned to cry or respond. Then black birds of prey drifted in on Lucifer’s wings and surrounded the area. Roughly, she was herded to one, her hands bound behind her, her head and long hair stuffed into a flight helmet. Unceremoniously, someone yanked her up and deposited her into the confines of a cockpit.
<
br /> The black hood sealed shut just as surely as the lid of a coffin, and within seconds, she was whisked away from the fragile tranquility of her little blue planet.
Chapter 4
Chelan felt the subtle docking of the fighter, but she couldn’t see a thing. Suddenly, her helmet was yanked off, and she sucked in a deep breath. But before the black cockpit cover slid back, the person behind her secured a blindfold tightly about her eyes. The next sensation was that of someone hoisting her out of the ship and lowering her down. Then a second set of arms grabbed her, and her feet touched ground.
The person released her, and Chelan hunched forward, dizzy and disoriented. There were voices all around her, but the language was foreign. Orders were being barked, and Chelan could hear motion, but she could decipher nothing. Finally, a hand hooked under her arm and urged her forward.
She was walked along at a fast clip for what seemed to be an eternity, stopping for only brief periods of time while orders were exchanged and for what she assumed were security checks. Chelan thought she could pick out her abductor’s voice, but with the unfamiliar inflections, she could not tell for sure.
Soon her exodus ended, and she was pushed down into a chair. Then there was silence. She took the time to catch her breath and gather her senses. She felt the baby move, and she relaxed slightly. At least he was okay, and that eased her tortured mind immensely. Then she heard a commotion, and she became rigid.
“Stand!” came the gruff order in Iceanean.
Chelan struggled to her feet, her bound hands and cumbersome belly making the normally simple motion nearly impossible. Suddenly, her bindings were released, and at almost the same instant, her blindfold was removed. She cringed against the brightness, covering her light-sensitive eyes with her shroud. Finally, she dared to open them and squinted up at the cloaked figure before her.
“Strip!” he ordered.
Chelan looked about her. On each side of her stood two heavily armed guards, their shrouds concealing their identities. The room was small and brilliantly lit. But outside of the solitary chair, there was nothing there except her and five unknown men.
