“I feel your anger,” she said softly. “What happened?” She looked up at him and laid a hand over his heart. There were questions in her eyes. He grunted, not wanting to buy the innocent act but willing it to be so.
“Why didn’t you meet my shuttle?” he countered.
Her eyes shuttered and she stepped away, pacing to the far wall and back. He felt her agitation and watched her stiffen her spine as if reaching a difficult decision.
“I was on my way to meet it…”
“And?” he prodded.
She sighed and looked at the floor. With two fingers, he lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. He saw conflict there and hardened his resolve. He wouldn’t give her up, but the sooner he got her home where he could ensure she got up to no trouble the better.
“When are you supposed to kill me, Laney?” He asked the question softly, surprised and angered at the pang of grief he felt that she might try.
She gasped and jumped away, but he gripped her upper arms and hauled her hard to his chest. He clenched his jaw against the sensation of her body molded to his and pushed away the urge to take her to the floor right there. Time for that later. Right now, he needed answers.
“You actually believe I’d do it?” She looked at him through damp lashes and tried to get free, anger and despair shining in her eyes. “We didn’t settle a time. Did you want me to say no? To give them an excuse to find someone willing?”
He continued to stare at her. Did he believe her because he heard the ring of truth in her voice or because he wanted it to be true?
“Tell me everything,” he said, wincing at the harshness he heard in his voice. Her eyes narrowed and she ground her back teeth.
“Why bother? If you’ve decided I’m involved in some plot to kill you then what I say won’t matter, will it?”
He gave her shoulders a gentle shake. “Don’t push me, Laney.”
“Fine. Let me go. I want to sit down.”
He was reluctant to give up the contact and compromised by taking her hand and pulling her to the small couch. She glared at him when he didn’t release the hand she tugged. He was aware of Barak and Daggar standing by the window. waiting to hear her explanation too. He didn’t acknowledge their presence but looked at her pointedly, waiting for her to continue.
“Fine,” she huffed. He forced back a grin. She was cute when she was angry.
“I was coming to meet your shuttle, and you know where the corridor turns?” She waited for him to nod. “I heard people whispering when I got there and stopped to see if I could hear any of it. I’ve had Jaxon watching them all and there’s been nothing suspicious. So when I heard what they were saying I stepped up. They want me to kill you. I want to know if they were involved in the attack at the test site.” She stared at the wall a minute before shaking her head and continuing.
“And now we have a problem.” She glared at him. “I’m not going to try to kill you, but they will try to get someone else. My people can’t afford the war that would cause.”
Relief rushed through him. She wasn’t involved in the conspiracy, and he owed her an apology. She was his mate and he shouldn’t have jumped to the worst conclusion. “The conversation is recorded and the computer’s tracking program shows you there, but it can’t tell me what you’re thinking,” he admitted.
“I can’t believe you thought I’d try to kill you.” Her voice was low, but he heard the controlled anger and hurt in it.
Unable to resist the temptation any longer, Alrik’s hands slipped under her shirt while his lips trailed kisses along the nape of her neck. Laney went rigid and glowered at him.
“Let me show you how sorry I am,” he whispered.
He felt the answering heat in her despite her obvious wish to rebuff him. He nibbled on her ear, and she softened enough to goad him further. His fingers feathered a soft trail up the silky skin of her stomach, pausing to trace small circles on the underside of her breasts. When he squeezed the pebbled tip of one, she gasped.
“Your brother and spymaster are in the room, Alrik. And I’m not done yelling at you.”
That was remedied easily enough. He laughed softly. When he got her back to their rooms, she could bitch all she liked. He looked forward to it—there was all that making up to do afterward.
“I know.”
He stood and tugged her up. They had personal business to attend to then he would deal with the other matter. A quick series of raps hit the door. Damn. His men or Barak’s reporting in no doubt.
“The cavalry come to rescue you?” she said sarcastically.
He snorted. The idea was absurd. She might attempt to kill him under some unknown circumstances, but she would never succeed.
The door slid open and Jaxon strode through, followed by an embarrassed-looking General Darren. He exchanged a questioning gaze with Laney’s Captain. To the casual observer he appeared calm, but Alrik recognized the tension radiating from the other man.
“I’m so sorry about this, Laney,” General Darren said.
“You should be,” she answered coldly. “What were you all thinking?”
“Don’t lump me in with that crowd. They only cornered me because they thought I could get you involved.” He snorted sourly. “After all these years, you’d think they would know us both better.”
She smiled slightly in response. “You’d think. So what do you suggest we do now, Bob?”
“Scott and the Prime Minister will have to be replaced. I called the Council—we’ll have to convince them.”
Laney crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow. “We? Why should I get further involved? I don’t have anything to do with this. I don’t belong to the Alliance anymore, remember?”
He fidgeted and his gaze went from Alrik to Daggar. “There’s some … mumbling about this peace treaty. Some people think it looks like an occupation.”
This time Alrik raised an eyebrow. They viewed the new settlements as further invasion, did they? Somehow he didn’t think they would like the alternative—all out war. Laney must have felt his determination to get what the Delroi needed one way or the other through their bond. Taking a deep breath, she nodded at General Darren.
“Okay. We’ll persuade them. When?”
Darren straightened and released a pent up breath. “Good. They should be arriving now.”
“Let’s get it over with, then.” She stepped towards the door and Alrik fell in beside her with Daggar behind him. Turning, she placed a hand on his chest to stop him. The connection between them snapped to attention and he fought the impulse to drag her down the corridor to their bedchamber.
“You can’t go,” she said and shook her head.
“I’m going.”
“No. You aren’t. It’s going to be hard enough to convince them without you glowering over the proceedings. We need to argue it out amongst ourselves. Don’t worry,” she added with a cocky grin. “I never lose.”
She slipped out the door and down the corridor while he stood rooted in place. I never lose. What the hell did she mean by that? Had he made so much progress during the week that she had decided being bonded to him was a win, and not the end of her world? Or, did she intend to try to leave him? Anger got him moving after her. There was no way he would let her go.
Daggar stopped him before he caught up to her. “I think we should let her handle it, brother.”
He was hesitant for the first time since his youth. “She never loses,” he said, confused. “What do you think she meant by that?”
“She intends to make them see reason. What else?”
Alrik closed his eyes, willing the panic to dissipate. Staring at the closed door she’d entered, he mumbled, “What if she intends to leave me?”
It was such an alien idea, that mates might separate, that Daggar looked at him as if he’d lost his mind.
It was very late when she left the Council. After she had a few hours sleep, she might feel triumphant at wringing success from the endeavor. She and Bob had
spent hours convincing the skeptics, often one by one, that peace and an open trade agreement were their best options. Backing out at this point, or worse, attempting to assassinate one of their leaders, would only end in more war and that was the last thing they could risk. They were in enough trouble as it was, critically short of the basics needed for survival.
Expecting to find their quarters dark and silent, she was surprised when she tried to enter quietly and found both brothers waiting for her. She was too tired for niceties and held up a hand, interrupting their questions before they could ask.
“It’s done. They’ve replaced the Prime Minister, and there won’t be any more conspiracies.” She yawned and looked with longing towards the other room and its large bed. “I’m so tired I can’t think straight anymore.”
She watched the brothers exchange a long look. Daggar nodded and rose from his chair. “I’ll go find your General Darren. We can discuss the details later.”
Too tired to move, she stood in place as he left and warily watched Alrik approach her. He hadn’t spoken a word since her entrance and the expression on his face was remote and distant. He stopped inches away, close but not touching.
“I’m really not up for fighting with you right now,” she said, swaying on her feet a little.
She just wanted to sleep for about twelve hours. She sat on the nearest surface, a wide ottoman next to the couch. She unzipped her boots and removed them and her socks. Twisting a little to one side, she unbuckled the straps on her gun holster and removed it, placing it carefully on the floor. Then she repeated the action on the other thigh and the knife joined it.
“The shirt next.” She looked up to see Alrik watching her. He’d stepped back and stood with his arms crossed over his chest. The emotional distance from earlier was gone, to be replaced by a dominant predator. Her heart sped up and she pulled the shirt off, let her bra drop next to it on the floor. Her nipples hardened under his stare.
“Now the rest of it.”
Slowly, she came to her feet and opened the button at the top of her pants. As she shoved them down she stumbled and he caught her, one arm around her shoulders and the other under her knees. He strode towards the other room as she clung to his neck. It was a heady experience. No one had ever carried her to bed before.
He sat her on the edge of the bed and removed her panties. In seconds he had her naked and under the blanket. Bemused, she watched him as he undressed and joined her.
“We’re fighting naked?” she joked.
“No, we’re making up naked,” he teased. She was so charmed at seeing him relaxed she almost missed the rest. Turning serious, he went on. “You said something earlier I was wondering about.”
“What?” she prodded when he paused for a long moment.
“You never lose.”
“Yeah. So?” Confused, she rolled to her side and propped her head on one hand. He was upset because of that comment? Did he think they were still plotting against him, or worse, that she was?
He grew distant again and coolly met her gaze. “You know I’ll never let you go.”
With a soft laugh, she leaned over his chest and dropped a light kiss on his lips. “I wasn’t planning on going anywhere. You aren’t what I thought you were—what I was afraid you were.”
Laney shrugged. “So I won’t be a soldier anymore. I have the opportunity to do something constructive instead of destructive for the first time in years. No more wars,” she added with longing.
She rolled onto her back, crossed her arms under her head, and watched at the ceiling.
“I’m looking forward to that. And I’m not letting you go either, Alrik. I told you. I never lose. Plus.” She smiled. “I have a son to raise.”
“We have a son to raise.”
“We, then.” She rolled to her side again and propped herself up on her elbow. “That’s not why I’m doing this. I chose you, Alrik. Son or not. Peace or not.”
The mattress dipped when he rolled on top of her. He cupped her face in his hands and smiled, the cold façade replaced by the real man. “So we both win.”
“Oh, yes,” she sighed and reached to pull him down to start the making up part.
The End
About the Author
As a native of the South, is it any wonder Loribelle has a love of storytelling? She started writing seriously as a teenager and finished her first manuscript, a mystery, when she was nineteen. After a few bumps along the way and stints as an Army MP, a waitress, a book store manager, a student, and a wedding photographer, she turned to writing full time. Now she divides her time among a husband, three kids, writing, and a part-time photography gig.
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