Once he’d disappeared in the bedroom, Eryn stepped aside, revealing the screwdriver on the floor she’d hidden with her long skirt. She’d taken one look at the long dress he’d brought her this morning and refused, stating she’d wear her flight suit. He’d forbidden it, giving her the option of the old-fashioned dress which was the standard dress for Primarian females, or nothing at all. She’d put it on, grumbling the whole time, although the soft material felt wonderful against her skin, the fit flattering, and the emerald-green color perfect for her.
At least now, she’d found a use for the impractical attire. Tiptoeing across the room, she peeked through the bedroom door. When the dryer came on in the bathroom, she raced across the room, popped off the sensor panel—the right tool for the job making a difference—and jammed the metal shaft inside, shorting it out, like she’d done to the front door.
If she was lucky, while he tinkered with the broken dryer that wasn’t broken at all, she’d be long gone.
She spun and ran to the living room, prying off the plastic cover he’d just fixed. After disabling it, again, she used the screwdriver to pry open the doors. Out in the hall, she slid them shut, not wanting to invite suspicion from passersby. Having accomplished the last step of her ill-conceived plan, she weighed her options, glancing first left then right, down the long corridor with multiple, non-descript doors. Everything looked identical.
“Crap,” she muttered then took a gamble and went right. Jogging down the hall, she slowed at the end and made another gut decision, turning left this time. Voices from around the next turn brought her to a stop. Heart thumping, she pressed against the wall. If they came her way, she’d be caught. But the voices grew faint, moving in the opposite direction, and she sighed with relief. When quiet again, she peeked around the corner and smiled, seeing the doors to the lift.
They opened when she approached. Decision time again. She assumed, like on an Earth ship, the cargo bays were down and the bridge was up.
“Down,” she commanded.
Nothing happened.
“Shit.” She tried again. “Lower level.”
This time, the lift moved, descending so fast she became a little dizzy. It could have been from the speed or from the adrenaline pumping through her system or the nagging fear of coming face-to-face with a warrior when the doors opened. Worse for her if the warrior was Ram.
When the doors slid open at the bottom, she found another empty corridor. Thinking it all too easy, she eased out of the lift, screwdriver in hand, expecting her luck to end any minute.
Again, she faced a maze of hallways and gut decisions. Before long, she came to a large set of double doors leading to the docking bay—she could tell right away because these, unlike all the others, had windows. Standing on her tiptoes, something she rarely had to do—dang these Primarians for being so tall—she peered inside and saw shuttles, four in all.
As a bonus, she counted just a few green-shirted Primarian’s inside. These appeared to be technicians, not warriors, which she had deduced their size and red tunics signified. Could she overpower them and board one of the shuttles? If so, she could get back to the Odyssey and plan a full-scale rescue.
Several problems stood in her way. Namely, getting onto the shuttle without being seen, opening the bay doors without alerting the entire ship, let alone figuring out how to fly an alien craft. Her biggest challenge? Catching up with the Odyssey. They’d been traveling for two days. Her ship would be long gone. If they pursued her, which she couldn’t imagine they wouldn’t, a shuttle against a full-sized ship didn’t stand a chance. She’d be captured at once and returned to her already-ticked-off alien.
Dejected, she slid down the wall and sat on the floor to wait. What other choice did she have? She couldn’t retrace her steps and hope to get to Ram’s quarters without him knowing because she had no inkling how to get back. Every damn hallway was identical. And if she did, Dray would’ve already finished with his bogus repair job and alerted Ram of her escape.
Feeling foolish, she stretched out her legs and considered her fate. He’d warned her several times what disobedience would bring, and, after this, she didn’t see any way of escaping it. As heavy footsteps—many of them—echoed down the hallway from the direction of the lift, she didn’t bother to look up and see what destiny had in store for her next.
Even with her stare fixed on the screwdriver she rolled back and forth between her hands, she didn’t miss the large pair of gleaming black boots when they entered her field of vision. A second later, an open hand extended downward. Without being told to, she laid the tool in his palm. She glanced up.
Ram towered over her, controlled anger on his handsome face. Her eyes shifted to the man at his side, another red tunic-wearing warrior she recognized as Lana’s prospective mate. He had the same black embellishments on his sleeves, but twice as many. His features were also stern, but he seemed more concerned than anything, and she swore she saw a hint of sympathy.
“You’ve got it from here?” the man asked Ram.
“I’ve got her.” His steely voice lacked any of the usual warmth he had when addressing her. “Thank you, General.”
The title rattled around in her mind. Great, one of his superiors had witnessed her defiance. In his shoes, she’d be furious to be embarrassed so.
“I’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again,” Ram murmured, his beautiful eyes not breaking their hold on her.
“Transport rather than shuttle down when we arrive. We don’t want her mischief stirring up the others.”
“Yes, sir.”
The general clapped Ram on the back, cast one more glance her way, and left, several other men she hadn’t noticed, following in his wake.
“General?” she whispered.
“My direct superior. It doesn’t speak well of me when I can’t contain and control my own mate.”
She swallowed, her ill-conceived and futile attempt at escape, making things much worse for herself.
“Get up,” he ordered. When she was standing, he clasped her upper arm, his fingers an inflexible band of iron.
“Ram—”
“Silence.” Anger roughened his voice. “We will discuss your behavior in our quarters, in private.”
“But, I—”
“Obey me, mate,” he growled. Without looking at her, he marched down the hall, taking her with him.
“I’m sorry.” The apology startled her. Said, not as ploy to get out of the impending punishment, but because she truly meant it. As her abductor, he deserved nothing except her contempt, but she’d broken what sliver of trust he may have given her, and her behavior had embarrassed him. Her chest felt heavy and her feet dragged; she felt awful.
She said nothing more while they made their way back to his stateroom. The door stood open when they arrived, and, on seeing Dray, once again repairing the damage she had wrought, her face heated. He glared at her, with a fraction less anger than the silent, livid male at her side.
“Almost done, Master Ram.”
“Thank you. Let yourself out and lock it when you are finished.”
He barely slowed his stride as he led her into the bedroom. When the doors slid shut behind them, he let her go.
“Remove your gown,” he ordered without hesitation.
“Ram, please—”
“No. You will not wheedle your way out of another spanking. I’ve tried to be patient, allowing you time to adjust to both me and your new situation, but I see that was a tactical error. No longer. When you break a rule in the future, prepare to be punished.” He walked to the bed. “Another mistake on my part, letting you believe I am a bendable mate. To believe so going forward will prove you wrong and your bottom will suffer for it.”
“I shouldn’t have—”
“This is true. You shouldn’t have done many things. Such as run from me, repeatedly. Or damaged property, again. That you lied to me then created a commotion on the ship are also things you shouldn’t have done. Further, you dis
rupted the crew, taking them away from important duties to join in the search, not to mention the general who has his hands full with his mate. You also shouldn’t have tricked Dray and locked him in the bathroom. I’m sure I could go on, if we looked more closely at the course of the last…three days.” With his hands on his hips, he stared at her, his usually bright eyes dark with fury. “I believe I directed you to remove your clothing. Do not add stalling to your already lengthy list of misdeeds.”
“I don’t want this,” she whispered.
“I don’t imagine you do, for this will not be pleasant for either of us, but it is happening. Do as I say. Now.”
Still, she hesitated.
“If I must do it for you, it will be worse.”
With trembling fingers, she undid her belt then reached behind her neck and released the hooks fastening the band of material. It slipped to her waist, and, from there, a little shimmy sent the frothy dress to the floor, leaving her naked.
He held out his hand for her. As she drew near, he sat on the edge of the bed. When she stood within reach, his fingers clasped around her wrist and moved her to his side.
“Place yourself facedown over my lap.”
“Shouldn’t you wait until your temper cools?”
“I am in control. If I weren’t, I’d never touch you. Now, obey me,” he said, his tone taut from waning impatience, “with a silent tongue unless I tell you otherwise.”
Left with no choice except angering him further, she used his thigh for balance and lowered herself over his hard, muscular thighs. He didn’t hesitate repositioning her, pulling her in close, angling her head down and tipping her bottom up. She yelped in alarm and, to steady herself, reached for the floor on one side as her feet left it on the other.
“I’ve got you,” he reassured her. “Haven’t you ever been over someone’s lap for a spanking?”
“Certainly not! My people are civilized.”
“Then I am sorry for the surprise you have coming.”
The first searing swat startled the breath out of her. Another followed in the exact same spot, and another. After five blistering smacks on her right cheek, he shifted to the left and repeated the process. It wasn’t until ten had been delivered and he began laying down a swath of fire from the upper crests of her bottom to the tops of her thighs that she found her voice.
“Stop it, you bastard.”
“Name calling is not allowed. Do so again and I’ll add ten to what you already have coming.”
“Who do you think you are, you big alien jerk?” She twisted on his lap, kicking to get free, but with his non-spanking arm clamped tight around her waist, she went nowhere.
“Jerk is derogatory and has earned you ten more. Keep going and it will be twenty.”
He didn’t let up, smacking alternate cheeks one after the other. It stung, a lot, but she didn’t back down, cursing a blue streak, calling him every foul word she’d picked up while living on the streets as a girl.
Pausing, he drawled matter-of-factly, “Surely the count is one thousand by now. Shall I get a gag before you can’t sit for a week?”
The notion sobered Eryn. To be punished like a naughty child was bad enough, to lose her ability to speak by being muzzled, beyond humiliating.
“I’ll take your silence as a negative response and when we continue, it will be without the swearing. Underestimate me at your peril, little mate.”
He resumed with the same stinging force, landing crack after sizzling crack on her vulnerable backside, and she couldn’t do anything to stop it. She felt unnerved, vulnerable, and distinctly feminine.
She blinked. Where had that last thought come from? And why did being held naked against his fully clothed body make a wicked tingle of awareness shoot through her center, notwithstanding the tanning he was delivering to her behind.
When her eyes were misty with tears, he stopped. Next, he surprised her by rubbing the
hot flesh he’d made ache. His gentle touch such an about-face to the swats of seconds ago, Eryn didn’t know how to react. First to be scolded, made to strip bare, and required to get into position herself for a spanking so sound she expected her burning ass would be fiery red like hot coals. And now, in a complete one-eighty, to be comforted, easing the sting he had intentionally inflicted; the whole episode left her confused.
It became more confounding when he parted her thighs and slipped his hand between them. She squirmed, knowing he’d find the glistening proof of her arousal on her thighs.
“You are wet, little one. Did the spanking arouse you? Or is it my nearness, my dominance, my show of ownership and possession of you?”
Struggling in earnest, with the iron band wrapped around her waist, she accomplished nothing against his superior strength except to give him an eyeful of her most private parts. In fact, he began exploring with his fingers, dipping inside and testing the moisture pooling there.
“Or, perhaps it’s our mate bond at work.”
“What are you talking about? What bond? We didn’t have a, uh…”
“A breaching? No, but we match, near perfectly, which means our chemistries are in tune. The more time we spend together, kissing, touching, lying together, it will grow stronger.”
“That’s insane.”
“It is our way.” He continued working his magic, his thumb homing in on her clit as two long fingers delved into her drenched channel.
Even though she discounted this chemistry bonding nonsense, the excitement of the past few days, the arousal she felt from his touch, or simply his nearness, and being naked like she was now, with him still dressed, not to mention his command over her body, all of it was too much to overcome. In minutes, the pressure building low in her belly coalesced with the tingling aching sensations his agile fingers and thumb created, and the heat suffusing the entire area from her spanking.
“Yes, let go for me,” he encouraged, seeming to know her climax had built to a peak. “It pleases me how fervently you respond to my touch.”
Her body reacted while her mind screamed a denial and she tensed, her interior muscles clamping down on the fingers inside her, clinging to him as if she never wanted to let go. She trembled in the throes of her climax, breathing fast.
In a blink, she was flat on her back on the bed, her thighs spread with his dark head between them. His mouth found her sensitized flesh, licking and devouring her. Still humming from her first release, he built it again. As she spiraled upward, she raised her hips, offering him more as she spread wider for him. Her hands sank into his dark, silky hair and fisted, holding him to her as she came again, this time crying his name to the ceiling.
She quivered in the aftermath, her pulse hammering in her ears, her limbs heavy, as if made of lead. He gentled her, brushing his lips along her inner thighs while his fingers petted her wet folds.
“Beautiful,” he whispered.
But the sentiment snapped her out of her post-orgasm fog, and she twisted out from underneath him, aware she did so only because he let her. “You said you wouldn’t,” she accused.
His black brow arched as he returned her stare. When he broke contact, his gaze skated down to her body, lingering on her breasts still rising and falling where she had yet to catch her breath, before homing in on the damp curls of her sex. From that glance alone, the trembling arousal inside her started again. When his eyes came back to hers, in the play of emotion on his face—hunger, passion—and, in the upward tilt of his mouth, glistening wet from his intimate kisses, she recognized the satisfaction her lustful response evoked in him.
“I said I wouldn’t breach you until you were ready. I never agreed not to touch what is mine, or to take my fill of your naked beauty. You’re stunning, galita, and I intend to touch, taste, and partake of you often, as my duties allow.”
“You’re a beast to use your strength to spank me and use me so,” she hissed, yanking at the linen to cover herself and her embarrassment at her carnal reaction.
He leaned over h
er, stilling her movements as he caged her with his body. “You screamed my name when you came, little rebel. What’s more, you earned every swat of that spanking and well know it. As for the rest, I’m a healthy male and appreciate a naked female when I see one. Yours, with its abundance of sweet curves, I find particularly tempting. Consider yourself fortunate to be mated to a male with my self-discipline. All of your other teammates have been breached and are well on their way to being transformed.” He caught her chin in his hand. “Be warned, pretty Eryn, my patience is not unlimited. Any more scenes like just now, and I will end this little game you’re playing. That I will breach you, claim you as mine, and initiate your transformation to tell everyone who you belong to is inevitable.”
He stood, tugging her to her feet. Then he lifted her, managing her above-average frame without effort, revealing how easily he could take what he felt was his. Placing her long ways on the bed, he pulled the linens from beneath her. But he didn’t cover her or spare her another sensual sweep of her body with his eyes.
“Roll over,” he ordered in a husky whisper.
“Whatever for? I thought you were finished.”
“I am, but I want to inspect your bottom. I have a cream which will minimize bruising if your skin is delicate and prone to marks.”
“Leave it and I’ll see to it myself.”
“Are you always this obstinate?” he growled, flipping her onto her stomach. One large hand splayed across her lower back, holding her still as the other hand stroked over her ass. “Pink and glowing, but no marks. Except for this little upside down heart on your right cheek.” He traced it with his finger. “Lovely. What is it?”
“A birthmark, if you must know. Can I get up now?”
He ignored her question. “We have markings, too. Mine is on the back of my neck. Do yours run throughout your family line?”
“No. They are random and not all humans have them,” she answered, surprised she’d managed an articulate response. To carry on a conversation while a fully clothed man examined her bare ass was a first, and worse than the spanking itself—well, almost. “Please, if you’re done. I’d like to get up.”
His Rebellious Mate (Primarian Mates Book 3) Page 18
