Heart of a Prince [Daughters of Lyra Series]

by Felicity Heaton

  When Tres was halfway through, he stood and went back to the door of his cell.

  "Give the rest to her,” he said.

  The guard looked unimpressed. “Our orders were to make sure you ate."

  "I have eaten. Now I am full. I wish for you to give the rest to the princess. If she is ill when her family come, your chances of receiving the ransom will be zero."

  The bars at the bottom of the cell door lifted. Tres put the bowl down and slid it through the small gap. The guard took it and Renie moved towards the door when a small area of the light bars disappeared. The man pushed the bowl through into her cell.

  She picked it up and sniffed it. It really did smell foul but her stomach didn't seem to care. It rumbled loudly. She cast a nervous glance at the two guards and then Tres, unsure whether she wanted to eat it in front of them. Not only was she going to have to use her hands, but she wasn't sure if she would be able to keep the food down if it tasted as disgusting as it smelt.

  She dipped a finger in and licked it clean.

  Her eyes popped wide.

  It tasted amazing.

  Carrying the bowl back to the corner with her, she sat down and scooped a small amount of the stringy goo up. She ate it. It was incredible. The textures and layers of taste were phenomenal, each making some different sense zing and pop. She had never tasted anything like it. It was food fit for a king. Not even the smell put her off.

  It was delicious.

  The bowl was empty before her stomach was full. She reluctantly turned it on its side and passed it through the bars to the guard. He took it without so much as a glance at her and left along with the other one. She looked longingly after him, wondering if he would come back with more. She could have licked the bowl. She would have if Tres hadn't been watching her.

  Sitting back down beside Tres, she sighed.

  "Thank you,” she said.

  "For what?"

  She looked across at him, through the shimmering blue light bars.

  "For eating in order to help my brother. I admit that I don't understand it, but thank you. I was sure that they were going to hurt him,” she said and wondered if Tres would hold her hand again if she placed it down on the floor by her side. “Rezic has no interest in the throne. He wishes we were just archaeologists, like I do. We've never used our positions or our family to get anything."

  Tres smiled at her. There was so much warmth in it and his eyes. What was he thinking when he looked at her like that?

  He scratched his face, reopening the gash that ran below his eye. A bead of blue blood broke to the surface.

  "I think you're bleeding,” she said and pointed towards the cut.

  He frowned and raised his hand up, swiping the blood away with the pad of his thumb. Her gaze ran over his tattered black clothes.

  "You must have put up quite a fight when they captured you.” She shuffled closer to the bars.

  Staring at the blue blood on his thumb, he said, “You are not the only one who wishes they were common. I will always fight hard to achieve that which I have set my heart on."

  Before she could ask what he meant by that, he had opened his mouth. She stared in fascination as he poked his tongue out. The sight of it stirred a strange desire in her, a hunger to feel it against her. It was blue, as exotic as the rest of him. The glide of his tongue over his thumb was erotic, sensual, igniting fire in her veins as she drank in the sight of it. The fire was fanned into an inferno when he licked his thumb again and she imagined how good it would feel to have that tongue laving her flesh, caressing her. She wanted to feel it, desired his mouth against hers and his hands on her body.

  Shaking her head, she snapped herself out of it. She had been up in space too long if the sight of a man's tongue gave her fantasies. Her eyes roamed back to his mouth. But what a tongue. The way he had licked the blood off his thumb had told her without question that he would know exactly what to do with that implement of divine torture if she gave herself to him.

  The door opened again and a guard entered. He closed the door and stood in the corner near it. The lights above her dimmed until only the light from the blue bars of the cells illuminated the room.

  "Sleep,” Tres said, gathering his blanket around him and returning to his bench. He lay down on it on his back, his blanket covering him and his arms below his head.

  Renie took the blanket down from the bench in her cell and wrapped it around her as she lay down. The bench was hard and uncomfortable. She looked across at Tres to find him watching her, his skin blue from the lights and his eyes dark. Only their pupils shone strangely, bright as though they fed off the blue light.

  "Tres?” she whispered, afraid of raising her voice in case the guard berated her.

  "Yes?"

  "Do you think Rezic will be safe?"

  Silence.

  A dark look entered his eyes, one that spoke of strength and belief.

  "I swear they will not hurt him. I will make sure of that."

  Renie looked at Tres a little longer and then closed her eyes, curling up on her side on the cold bench with her arm as a pillow.

  Even though Tres was a prisoner too, she believed him.

  He wouldn't let anything happen to her brother.

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  Chapter 5

  Tres paced the small cell, his body stiff and aching as he forced himself to move. It was painful, but it did reward him with a little heat. The temperature had dropped again to the point where it was too cold for him to sleep. He tugged the dark grey blanket tighter around him and hunched up. Perhaps he should have asked the guard for an extra blanket before he had left.

  The lights gradually came back up. He looked over at Renie and switched on his ocular implants to check her vitals. She was cold, but still warm enough. A desire to somehow get through the bars and curl up with her in his arms settled inside him. He stopped pacing and stared at her.

  He wanted to touch her again.

  It wasn't just because she was warm. It was so much more than that.

  It was so much more than want.

  He longed to touch her again, desired it more than anything.

  She was so beautiful. Her nose wrinkled in her sleep and she mumbled something as she snuggled into her blanket, drawing her knees up into a foetal position. So enthralling.

  He longed to cross the cellblock, kneel beside her, and stroke the rogue strands of her long black hair from her face so he could see it clearly. He desired to watch every nuance of sleep cross her face and wonder what she was dreaming as she fitfully slumbered. He hoped they were good dreams, dreams of freedom, dreams of travelling with her brother, dreams of him. If he had the power, he would see to it that this nightmare ended for her and that something like this would never happened to her again.

  Raising his hand, he rubbed his thumb across his fingers. The burns were taking time to heal but they had been worth it. He would do it all again to feel her hand on his, to see the affection she had shown him light up her eyes again as she looked at him. He loved the way her hand had felt in his, and how she had let him hold it. It had been wonderful. The way she had leaned into his touch when he had cleared her tears away had left him desiring her more than ever.

  Could she ever want a male like him?

  There would be difficulties to overcome. It wouldn't be easy. If she gave him the chance, he would try though. He would do anything for her.

  After the commander's visit yesterday, it had taken a lot for Tres to speak to her, to admit that he wanted to know her. It was a step in the right direction he supposed, but it was all moving too slow and he was growing tired of being trapped in this cell, unable to show her that he wanted her.

  Unable to save her.

  He needed to save her.

  There was a shuffling noise as she wriggled under the blanket and then a soft sigh escaped her lips as her eyes fluttered open. Tres remained still, trapped by the wonderful sight of her waking. He wished she had been in his
arms as she had awoken, sighing gently as though coming around from a good sleep.

  Renie sat up slowly and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Her delicate hands moved to her hair and she frowned, pouted almost. With a little smile in his direction, she tidied her hair, letting it down so it tumbled around her shoulders in soft dark waves before pinning it back into a loose knot at the back of her head.

  She was so beautiful, even when waking.

  She stood and stretched. Her white shirt pulled tight across her breasts and Tres felt as though she had punched him in the stomach as he stared blatantly, unabashed. She would be the death of him if she kept doing things like that. He shifted, suddenly uncomfortable in his tight thermal suit. The violent reaction to the sight of her breasts was a new one for him. He had never desired that kind of company before, but as he watched her, he found himself imagining how her breasts would feel beneath his fingers, his lips.

  Renie turned to face him.

  Tres swallowed and cast his eyes down at his feet. He idly pulled the collar of his thermal suit up again, trying to cover more of his body with it.

  "Are you still cold?” she said, her voice soft and mesmerising. He found the courage to look at her again.

  She had moved to the bars near his cell and was looking at him with concern in her large dark eyes. She worried about him. He truly had never met someone as warm and caring as her.

  He nodded.

  "I could probably fix it. Let me take a look.” She tipped her head back twice in a gesture that told him to come to her.

  He groaned inside. She didn't need to order him to go to her. He would always go to her. He couldn't stop himself.

  She knelt down by the bars and he knelt opposite her, looking deep into her eyes for what seemed like hours rather than seconds.

  "They did something to the back of the suit,” he said and turned around, moving as close to the bars as possible so she didn't hurt herself on them by having to reach too far.

  He removed his blanket, pulled the black jacket off and placed them both on his lap.

  Her breathing quickened and he wondered whether it was fear of placing her arms through the bars or trepidation about touching him that made it change. She hadn't seemed frightened yesterday when she had held his hand.

  His eyes rolled closed when she gathered his hair in her hands. Her fingertips grazed his ears and he bit his tongue to hold the moan in. Warm shivers danced through him, stirring his body. Her hands brushed his neck and then paused, still holding his hair.

  How could touch be so forbidden when it felt this good?

  The heat of her wasn't the only reason her touch affected him. It was something deeper, something that enslaved him and stirred his blood.

  "You're not wearing a translator,” she said and dropped his hair. Her hands disappeared. He turned, twisting around so he could see her. She touched the small black device in her ear. “Are you speaking Lyran?"

  He shook his head.

  "Terran?"

  Another shake.

  "How can you understand me without a translator?"

  "I know most languages, just as I know most greetings and many other things. I have been well educated. I even know some dead languages."

  Her look turned to fascination. “Dead languages?"

  Tres nodded. Dead languages fascinated her? He had thought she would be impressed with his knowledge of the living ones but it was the dead ones that had caught her attention. Females were confusing. What he thought would impress her didn't. What he thought was of no consequence, made her smile.

  "Can you write them too, translate them?"

  He paused, wondering where she was going with her line of questioning, and then nodded.

  "Marshan or ancient Varkan?"

  "Ancient Varkan is still spoken by some."

  "Marshan then, or old Perseian?"

  He smiled at her. “I can read, write and speak those languages."

  "How? They've been dead for centuries."

  "My education was thorough. There are many I cannot speak though but most have a similar phonetic system or symbolic."

  She smiled, a radiant one that drew another hard beat of his heart from him.

  "Perhaps if you fix my suit, I will be inclined to tell you more?” Tres said, desperate to get warm again and get her away from the cells. This was no place for her. This dark world in which he lived would taint such a beautiful and delicate butterfly.

  She nodded and he turned away again. Her hands touched his back. He swallowed and closed his eyes, heightening the feel of her fingers against him. They were gentle, dancing lightly over his thermal suit as she explored it. What was she thinking? Feeling? He wished he could order her to tell him everything that crossed her mind. He wanted to know if this affected her as much as it did him. He shifted to relieve the tightness of his suit against his crotch.

  "Do you have a male?” he said, the words slipping out before he could even consider what he was saying.

  "A male?” Her voice was small.

  She was going to say yes.

  "Not in a long time,” she whispered and her hands stilled against his back.

  Tres snapped his mouth shut before he could ask whether she wanted one. He knew her enough to tell that she wouldn't be interested in him. She was only making small talk because he was the only one here. He was sure that if there had been a Lyran male in these cells with them, she would have been talking to him instead. No. Something deep inside his heart said that it wasn't like that. She had been so open with him, so unguarded with her feelings, and had touched him. She had sought comfort from his touch. It couldn't be a one sided thing. He was sure that she liked him, but he wasn't sure if she liked him enough.

  A frown crossed his face when he ran over what she had said and realised that it implied she had once had a male. The thought of a male touching her made his fingertips twitch, his claws itching to tear the male's throat open.

  She went back to work on his suit, humming a quiet melody to herself. The feel of her fingers chased away his dark thoughts and he found himself quietly willing her to touch his skin again, to give him a little relief from his growing hunger. He needed to feel her soft warmth against him. Ached for it.

  "Are you certain you know what you are doing?” he said, wishing that he could see what she was looking at and clawing back a little control.

  He didn't have a clue about how the suit worked or how to fix it. He hadn't paid much attention during his engineering lessons. Those lessons had taken place in a room near the atrium and he had spent most of his time there staring out of the window whenever his teacher had had his back turned.

  "My brother and myself are the only crew of our ship. If things break, we have to know how to fix them. I like to think that I've become quite skilled at repairing things or installing new parts. I'm sure I can fix this.” Her hands paused at their work again. A cold breeze against his back chilled him to the bone. She must have opened the suit to get to the same area the commander had accessed.

  Sweet mercy she was going to touch him.

  Her fingers brushed his bare back and he swallowed hard, unconsciously leaning backwards into her touch so he could feel her better. He wanted her hands all over him, covering every hard inch of his body.

  They were warm as they stroked his back, sliding under the suit in a sensual glide that made his heart beat faster.

  "You're too far away,” she whispered.

  He groaned internally and leaned further back. Her warm breath fanned over his back, making him shiver and tremble. Her fingers caressed his skin in mesmerising patterns as she searched for something on the suit. His teeth sunk into his lower lip, biting it hard in an effort to restrain the moan that tried to escape as she swept her thumbs over his back and then breathed against him again.

  She was going to be the death of him.

  The feel of her hands on him was exquisite, addling his mind and making his head spin as he silently begged her to touch more of him
. He craved it. Needed it so violently that he was bordering on turning and trying to break through the bars to get to her. He yearned for her.

  Everything about her made him hard and hungry for her. He had never felt such a deep gnawing hunger and desire.

  He had never wanted a female like he wanted her.

  "Aha,” she said and his eyes shot wide when she slid her hand into the back of his suit and then pulled it out again. She hummed, singing a melody that he didn't recognise, and then made another noise of triumph. “There."

  Intense heat spread outwards from his back as she closed his suit. It travelled down his spine, its hot fingers creeping around his front and then down his arms. He sighed, content, when his entire body began to warm.

  "Thank you,” Tres said and turned to face her. He sat there a moment, basking in the warmth and smiling as it seeped into his body. It was divine.

  "They'd only disconnected the wiring."

  The way she said that made him feel as though he could have fixed it if he had bothered to try. The idea of exposing himself to the cold for even a few minutes had stopped him though. Even with the suit unable to radiate heat, it was still thermal and had kept him warmer than he would have been without it.

  "Tres?” she said and his heart beat again, hard and deep in his chest, turning his blood as warm as the suit was.

  "Yes?” he said and was tempted to say her name. Renie. His courage failed him.

  "What do you do for a living?” She carefully pulled her hands back through the bars.

  "Living?"

  "A job? Myself and my brother are archaeologists ... explorers. We travel the galaxy studying dead cultures and abandoned planets."

  He vaguely remembered that she had mentioned that yesterday. At the time, he had been too enthralled by her hand on his to listen intently. It explained her interest in his knowledge of dead languages. A skill such as his would be beneficial in her line of work.

  "I have none,” he said and smiled again when he realised that he was warm from head to toe. Standing, he stretched and sighed. He removed his trousers, revealing the bottom half of his thermal suit, and tossed the clothes to one side. He looked up at the ceiling and then at the bars that separated him and Renie. “Shall we go?"