Shades of Pink

by 33 authors

  Caleb groaned and clenched his eyes shut against the dizzy pleasure of feeling himself sheathed in her warmth. He kissed her lips, rained kisses down her face and throat. Finally, he started to move, sliding in and out in a steady rhythm. Amara grabbed at his shoulders, her hips meeting his every motion. He could feel the tension building up in her, and he slid one hand between them to toy with her sensitive clit. Amara’s body shook, and her climax came in a frenzy of pleasure, his name a cry on her lips. Caleb drew her to him, and flipped over, pulling her on top of him.

  “That is amazing,” she panted, letting her head rest on his shoulder. Caleb was still hard inside of her, and she could feel every heart beat pulsing in his throbbing cock. She sat up astride him, and began moving her hips. Leaning forward, she kissed him on the lips and down his chest, her long, blond hair trailing over his body. Caleb grasped her hips and guided her as she rode him. Their rhythm became frantic, and he sat up, grabbed Amara by the waist and pushed her back down on the chair, lifting her legs to his shoulders. He pounded into her with swift thrusts, until his body reached its crescendo and then he crumpled onto her, panting with exertion.

  Amara ran her hands down his back, kissing him along his shoulder and neck. Caleb rolled to one side, pulling her against him and drew the blanket over them both. He kissed her damp temple, and ran a hand over her hair.

  “I wish this night did not have to end,” Amara sighed, snuggling deeper into the warmth of his body.

  “It doesn’t have to. Stay with me,” he said huskily. “Stay on Earth.”

  Amara pulled away from him, looking into his eyes with such sadness that Caleb thought his heart would break. “I cannot,” she whispered. “I have not told you everything about me.”

  “Tell me, or don’t tell me. It doesn’t matter to me who you are, Amara.”

  “Oh, Caleb, I feel such sorrow here,” she pressed her hands against her chest. “Surely this is love, this pain. I understand now what all those Earth poets were writing about.”

  “Sweetheart,” he said reaching for her, “it isn’t supposed to hurt, and it doesn’t have to. Please, I am sure we can find a way for you to stay.”

  “I cannot,” she shook her head with finality. “I did not tell you that I am the next in line for the throne of Xythos. I was only granted this one term on Earth, and my parents were not happy with that. I had to promise to return to resume my royal duties without complaint, as well as agreeing to my parents’ choice of an arranged life-contract.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she hastily wiped them with the back of her hand.

  “What if I talked to them....”

  “They would not listen to you,” she cut him off mid-sentence. “And I would not want you to try. It is my duty to my planet and to our people. I will do what I must.” She sat up, and Caleb could see she was every inch a royal princess by her bearing, even when only draped with a plush pink blanket.

  “But know this, Caleb Gordon, I will never feel this way again. I will hold my cherished memories of you with me in my heart for the whole of my life.” Her eyes filled with tears again.

  Caleb kissed her tenderly on the forehead, and then let his hands drop from her shoulders. “I will never forget you either. ‘I love thee with the breath, smiles, tears, of all my life!—and if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.’”

  Amara nodded at him mutely, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek. Without another word, she gathered up her robe and gown, kissed Caleb gently on the lips and made her way out the door. She never looked back.

  * * *

  Amara took one last glance at herself in the huge, full-length mirror. She was dressed for state in full royal regalia. Her pink gown had a cinched waist and full skirts. She wore a white sash over one shoulder, bearing the gold markings of her royalty. Her normally straight hair had been arranged in long ringlets by Thari, and a diadem of sparkling jewels rested atop her head.

  It had been two weeks since she had arrived home on Xythos, and three weeks since her night with Caleb. Her parents had commented that the school term on Earth had done wonders for her maturity and were well pleased that she was not arguing about the upcoming arranged life-contract. Only Thari knew that Amara cried herself to sleep at night, her heart still broken. And that once this contract was made, that she had no plans of residing with whomever her parents had chosen. They had asked upon her arrival home if she had any preference, and she had answered honestly that it didn’t matter to her in the least. It would be an arrangement on paper, and she would do her duty, but she thanked the Gods that physical contact was not necessary to conceive an heir with her “husband.”

  The sound of a trumpet signaled that it was time. Amara took a deep breath and headed out of her suite and down the hall to the Grand Reception Hall. The guards all bowed deeply as she walked slowly past, and at the end of the hall, two guards pulled open the tall, intricate doors. Thari had walked silently beside her up to the doors. She gave Amara’s hand a gentle squeeze, and smiled at her encouragingly, motioning for her to go in.

  Walking through the double doors, Amara swallowed past the lump lodged in her throat. Across the room, her parents were seated on their thrones, watching her with pride as she entered. To their right, she noticed two men. One was adjusting the universal transmitter placed in his ear, and the other had his back to her. He was tall, with broad shoulders. He was dressed for state as well, with tan breeches tucked into high brown boots, and a white shirt with a thick band of pink around one of his upper arms. It was traditional on Xythos for men to take on the woman’s family colors, but Amara still felt slightly nauseous seeing the stranger bear her family’s pink. The stranger kept his back to her as she walked up the carpet towards her parents. She noticed that he had dark hair, kept very short, and saw his posture stiffen after the other man had leaned over and whispered something in his ear. Maybe he was not excited about this contract either. If that feeling was mutual, then perhaps they would get on well enough together on the few occasions that they were required to be in each other’s company. With that thought in mind, Amara held her head higher and advanced to the steps that led up to the thrones.

  “Presenting the Crown Princess Royale, Ravealli Amara Reshya de Scion,” the Lord High Chancellor announced. Amara inclined her head, then bowed deeply to her parents, before taking a seat on the smaller throne on the dais set off to her father’s left. She gazed unwaveringly forward, fixing her line of sight on the doors at the other end of the long room. Perhaps this ordeal would be over quickly, and she would be back out those doors soon. That thought brought a slight smile to her face.

  The Lord High Chancellor again came forward to announce the next name. Amara clenched the arms of her chair, and sucked in a deep breath, anxious to hear the name of the man her parents had chosen for her.

  “Presenting to the Royal Court of Xythos, the Dignitary Angus Caleb Scott-Gordon, son of the High Prime Minister of the United Federation of Earth.” Amara jerked her head at the name, her eyes resting on the man now standing in front of them. She let out a small gasp. It was Caleb.

  He bowed formally to her parents, and then to her. She inclined her head gracefully at him, and took the hand he offered. Her heart was beating so rapidly against her chest that she felt it might explode.

  “Your highness,” he said, placing a formal kiss on the back of her hand.

  “Dignitary Gordon,” she answered regally, trying to keep her voice from quavering, “you are well met.” His eyes gleamed at her as he took a step back, bowing again to her parents.

  “Daughter,” the King asked, “this is who we wish for you to sign your life-contract with, solidifying the bond of our two planets. Will you accept this man?” He looked at her shrewdly, and Amara noticed that her mother had a secretive smile playing across her lips. Surely they didn’t know about her and Caleb?

  “Ah...I...um, yes, Father. I do so accept this man for a life-contract,” she stuttered.

  “So wise is my
daughter,” the King boomed to the court, “and so let the arrangements be made. The joining ceremony will take place in one week.” The king looked at Caleb, and then at Amara. “I do hope that you two younglings will deal well with each other.”

  “It is my wish as well, your Grace,” Caleb answered. “If I may, please, would it be possible for me to have a moment alone with the princess?” The king frowned. “Of course, we will be accompanied by my companion, Axel, as well as the princess’s lady in waiting,” he added quickly.

  “Very well,” the king nodded his approval. “You may meet out on the terrace.” He motioned for two guards on the right wall, and immediately they opened another large set of doors that led out to an upstairs balcony. Caleb and Axel both bowed to the king and queen and went outside. Amara waited until Thari had joined her before also dropping a low curtsey to her parents. She then followed the path to the terrace, Thari trailing close behind her. Inside, she felt like rushing out the doors to Caleb, but kept herself in check and walked slowly and gracefully. Caleb and his friend stood by the pillars of the balcony, gazing down upon her city.

  “Caleb...” her breath caught in her throat when he turned around to smile at her.

  “Amara,” he said, crossing the distance between them and wrapping her in his arms. “Gods, I have missed you.” He kissed the top of her head, inhaling her scent deeply.

  “I cannot believe that you are here. Wait...” she was speaking in English, but noticed that he was not wearing a translator like his friend was. “You can understand our language?”

  “Well, let’s just say I’ve become more than a little interested in the planet of Xythos lately, so yeah, I learned the language. Much like a princess I know who learned to speak English so she could come to Earth.”

  Amara blushed. “How, Caleb? How were you able to arrange to be my life-contract?”

  “Axel had already told my father that I had fallen head-over-heels for an intergalactic exchange student,” he nodded to his friend, who stood nearby. “It turns out that many a moon ago, my mother was an exchange student to Xythos, and she knew the planet well. My father made a few calls for me, and our parents seem to agree that a match between us would benefit ‘intergalactic peace,’ I think they called it.” He grinned down at her.

  “This is wonderful,” she hugged him tighter, “I am so happy.”

  “Amara, there is something I want to ask you though,” he spoke so seriously that she drew away from him to look up into his face.

  “You can ask me anything. Anything at all,” she said earnestly.

  “Well, I....ah, this may seem silly,” he cleared his throat, “I want to ask if you will do the honor of marrying me.”

  “But Caleb, I have already agreed that I wish the life-contract with you...”

  “I understand that,” he interrupted, “and I can’t wait for that ceremony with you. But I also want to marry you, in the tradition on my planet.” He drew a small velvet box from the pocket of his pants. He opened the lid to reveal an intricate ring inlaid with a large, sparkling diamond in the center, surrounded by small sapphires.

  “It is beautiful,” Amara gasped.

  “It’s called an engagement ring, and you wear it on the third finger of your left hand. When we are married on Earth, then we will both wear wedding bands. It is an old Earth custom, and the rings are meant to symbolize not only that we are married, but also eternal love.” He looked at her uncertainly, not sure of her reaction.

  “Oh, Caleb! Of course I will marry you—here on Xythos, on Earth, on any planet that you wish,” she said, tears of joy forming in her eyes.

  He kissed her on the lips, quickly drawing back after Thari cleared her throat. With a smile, he removed the ring from its box and slid it onto her finger.

  “So,” he said with a slight laugh, “you do realize this means that you get to go back to Earth. While we will undoubtedly have royal duties to attend to here on Xythos, we still have my family duties to see to at home too.”

  “Ah yes,” she answered with a wink, “we do have our duties to take care of. Not to mention that after the life-contract ceremony here, we will have the whole marriage thing as well.” She smiled up at him, gazing into his sky blue eyes, loving the feel of his arms around her.

  “Whew! I am glad you’re willing to go back to Earth for part of the time. I do love your planet, but I have to be honest, sweetheart,” he said, “this gravity of yours is killing me!”

  Amara couldn’t help but laugh, hugging him close to her. “Personally,” she whispered so only he could hear, “I think I am most looking forward to producing the heir to the throne—the Earth way.”

  “Oh yes,” Caleb agreed huskily, “there is certainly that to look forward to.”

  ~~~

  Kristin L. Wilson is a long-time resident of Las Vegas, Nevada. (Yes, people do actually live there!) She has a wonderful hubby, two often-sparring children, and several furbabies that keep life chaotic. While she works primarily as an editor for other authors, Kristin loves to write in whatever spare time she can find. Her website, www.writingbits.com, offers quick writing tips. Or you can email her at KristinLWilsonLV@aol.com.

  THE MOTHER

  Rose Caraway

  It’s the end of the 15th Century. Laura survives a shipwreck only to be held prisoner by superstitious men who fear her; a witch with strange healing powers. Laura’s dreams are filled with visions of an exotic, sensual Warrior. She waits for him to save her and fulfill her destiny.

  ~~~

  The Mother’s Hope, old and sea worn, had been salvaged from England’s decommissioning docks, but she had no right to sail the seas again. Her one hundred and thirty desperate passengers, just as sea worn now as she, prayed in unison for their safe deliverance out of the storm. For forty-eight long hours torrential winds tore at her loosened sails, forcing the old ship off course, sending waves across her deck with perilous consequences to anyone who dared venture out. Every pious soul on board was forced to stay hidden safely below on the main deck while the tempest continued to toss the Mother’s Hope and shake her passengers’ faith.

  At fifty-three-years-old, Captain John Philip knelt, tired and wet. The fever was beginning to impair his judgment and he was grateful the crew and passengers hadn’t noticed. They were angry with him enough already. He held his bible tight to his chest shouting a hasty, incomprehensible prayer. The passengers cried out their prayers too, like abandoned children screaming for their father. John’s eyes burned with fever and guilt. His stomach rolled with disgrace, as the ship rolled on the sea. He hadn’t told his passengers what was hidden in the cargo hold until just before the gale had overtaken them. He shook his head violently, back and forth, attempting to shake the dizziness and guilt from his poor sickened brain. He blamed the woman chained down below; prisoner amongst their dwindling provisions. John knew, within his very soul, that she was the reason why the sea constantly wreaked havoc on his ship. She was why they had been thrown off course too many times to count, and why he and a few others were sick; never mind that he felt a strange tingle in his lungs before the journey had begun. It was the woman’s fault! She was more than just bad luck. Captain John Philip believed that the woman, with her flame red hair, pale alabaster skin and deep green eyes was a living, breathing pestilence with Satan’s blood running through her veins. She was to be a glorious example for the settlers. Proof that they wouldn’t suffer a witch. That maleficium wouldn’t be tolerated in their new colony.

  The Captain coughed until his chest rattled and then he wiped his chin. He didn’t notice the blood staining the back of his hand after doing so. Still clutching his bible, he unsteadily rose to his feet, fighting for balance. Another coughing fit seized him, but he found strength from resolution and stood firm. Dizzily, he made his way from the main deck, down to the cargo hold, with a single righteous thought running through his mind.

  * * *

  The ship pitched and tossed in a nauseating, loping motion with Laur
a chained within its bowels. The wooden planks that made up the small ninety-foot galleon’s hull were rotting and becoming dangerously water-logged. The patched tar and cloth caulking between the planking had all but eroded away. Even the ship’s tired ribs seemed on the brink of splintering to pieces as the tempest raged. The vessel leaned onto its side, making Laura’s stomach churn. The Mother’s Hope righted herself for a single moment, riding low on a swelling wave, then as though Titan himself were pulling her bow, she crashed with a thunderous, earsplitting sound against something solid. Seawater gushed into the hold as the hull exploded inward. It seemed that all of the ocean’s frigid waters came flooding into the cargo hold at once. The Mother’s Hope was ruined. Laura’s heart sank. This wasn’t part of her destiny! She wasn’t supposed to drown!

  Provision barrels came loose from their ties along with preciously stored sacks of rice, dried herbs, clothing and vegetable seeds. Supplies were cast about as wave upon relentless wave bashed against the gaping tear on the underside of the ship, beating their way inside. Laura’s feet slipped from beneath her, but the chain and shackle fastened from the base of the main mast to her ankle prevented her from careening with the rest of the supplies. The metal cuff dug into delicate flesh every time her body lurched with the ship and her throat erupted with panicked screams of pain. She fell forward as far as the short length of chain would allow, thinking that her ankle must be broken. Then with a great thrust, the ocean shoved the galleon again and Laura’s head met the edge of a wine barrel as it hurled past.

  The dank, shadowy world of the cramped cargo hold that Laura had inhabited for two and a half months, went black.

  * * *

  Aspirating on salty seawater forced Laura back to consciousness, choking and wheezing. She opened her eyes, immediately squinting against the piercing sunlight. The storm and sea had worn themselves into a calm lull. She was alive!