“Of course,” he said plainly, letting go of my hand and unbuttoning his brocade doublet. “I think I loved you from the first moment I saw you. But when you hit that man, I was certain.”
“But,” I protested, my breasts rising and falling with the rapidity of my breathing, “you yell at me all the time, argue with me.”
“Yes,” he said, chuckling again, “I said I loved you, not that I did not also find you infuriating. Because I do, in fact, find you infuriating.”
“Well,” I snapped, “you are pretty infuriating yourself!”
He grinned. “I never once claimed otherwise.” He kicked off his boots and tugged down his breeches, and was as bared to me was I was to him. I felt a twinge between my thighs, and was made suddenly aware of how desperately I wanted him.
He looked at me as though he were considering coming over to me and taking me in his arms. I thought perhaps that I would let him, that I would drop all of my defenses and just let him have me, let myself have him. But after a small and breathless silence, he tugged back the patchwork quilt and climbed into bed.
I gave myself a silent admonishment and joined him, pleasantly surprised by the pillowy down mattress onto which I’d climbed. I laid my head down and turned onto my side, facing away from him, though I could feel the warmth of his body radiating beneath the blankets.
“Thank you,” I said at last to the empty air around us, “for helping me, and those women. You didn’t have to. In fact, I imagine your people would have been much happier if you hadn’t. But thank you, all the same.”
“You are welcome,” he said plainly, and allowed the silence to settle over us once more. Maybe he could sleep, but I couldn’t. He loved me? After, what, a handful of days together? He didn’t know me well enough to love me! How could you love someone when you’d only been around them for a week, and under very bizarre circumstances? He didn’t know what I was really like, day to day.
I tossed myself over onto my other side facing him, and in the dim light of our only candle, I could see that he’d thrown his arm over his eyes. I furrowed my brow, trying to determine whether or not he had actually gone to sleep that quickly.
He couldn’t possibly love me. Could he? I’d married him, but that had been because I needed his aid, so that I was not simply repossessed by the slavers who had taken me. That’s why I’d done it. Right?
I flipped myself onto my back and stared up at the ceiling, where tiny abstract shadows danced. I could hear the fire crackling downstairs, could feel his warmth. And for the first time since this entire disaster began, I noticed that I was not clamoring to go home. In fact, the idea of going back to the Atria filled me with a sort of…sadness. I wanted to help the other women, and I turned their names over and over in my brain, reaffirming my promise to them with each repetition. But after I’d helped them, after I’d gone to the Atria to ask for the funds to give back to the Qeteshi village, then what? Would I simply stay there, forget about this place? Forget about Calder?
I turned my head and looked at him, watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest. No. I would never forget. But could I stay? And be a mate to a king? Be a queen? No. I did not think I could do that either.
“Are you asleep?” I whispered.
“I am not,” he said in a normal tone, but he didn’t move his arm away from his eyes.
“I need to ask you something,” I said, and sat upright on the mattress, gathering the blanket up under my chin to keep myself warm and to preserve what little remained of my modesty.
“Very well,” he said, and drew his arm away, turning his gaze to take me in.
“How is it that you can love me when you don’t even really know me?” I asked, sort of stunned as I tried to work through it in my brain. “How can you know how you feel about me at all, in so short a time?”
He sighed quietly and sat up, leaning back against the carved wood of the headboard. “Love is not something you feel,” he said levelly, “it is something you do. I pull your body from the wreck of the escape pod. I care for you until you wake. I bring you to this village. I marry you to save you from the slavers. I buy your friends so they may go home. I lead you to the center of the Spire so you may send the signal that will ultimately take you away from me. In all of these actions, I love.”
“But—”
“And you do, too. Maybe not me, specifically, but you love. Every move you have made has been in service to the other women. That is a great act of courage. That is a great act of love.”
I adjusted myself to sit cross-legged, and scooted slightly closer to Calder. “That isn’t how we humans talk about love,” I said. “Love is…romantic and sweeping. It’s about…” I groped for words. “Feeling a deep connection with the person you love, and about being willing to sacrifice everything for that feeling.”
“I am willing to sacrifice precisely nothing for a feeling,” he said, veritably sneering. “But I am willing to lay down everything I have for you. For you, Lorelei.” He stared at me, but after a moment he gave a slow shake of his head. “There is no need to make it so complicated. I am not asking you to love me, I am not asking for acts of love, and I am not performing my own acts because I hope that they will win you. Love is not something you fall into accidentally, love is a decision. I love you with no strings attached. I love you for free.”
Calder rubbed at his eyes, and I could do nothing but stare at him, slack-jawed. Could it really be as simple as that? And given so freely, so openly? I felt a lump rising in my throat, and I didn’t trust my voice not to crack over it, so I said nothing. “Now,” Calder went on, “can we please, please go to sleep?”
I shrugged off the blanket then and moved on all fours toward him, catlike and full of purpose. I climbed onto him, straddling him so that the only thing between us was the patchwork quilt, and slid my arms about his neck.
I kissed him, gently lapping at his tongue with my own like a cat drinking cream. I pressed my breasts against the smooth skin of his chest, and a thrill shot down my spine as I felt his hands travel up the length of my thighs and settle on my hips.
He slipped one of his hands between us, and his fingers found the already slick and ready entrance of my sex. He slipped two fingers inside of me and I undulated my hips, riding his fingers as though they were his cock. He grinned a roguish sort of grin, pleased that I was already so wet with my wanting. But when I reached back with one of my hands to tug the blanket away, I felt his hardness and grinned back as though to say, I am not the only one of us who is ready.
I gripped him in my fist and stroked the length of his shaft until he was at his full rigidity. His breath caught in his throat, and his eyes fell closed. He withdrew his fingers then, and I sat up slightly on my knees so that I could direct him home.
“Lore,” he said, and I wasn’t sure if it was a plea or a protestation, but I felt him there and needed him inside me. I waited, and locked my eyes on his, and he gripped me by the hips and thrust himself inside of me. I let out a cry, never breaking eye contact, and began to move with an easy rise and fall, slow and rhythmic. I reveled in how totally he filled me, and kissed him to drive our connection home.
After a moment, he encircled my waist with one strong arm and lifted me up as he rose to his knees. He threw me down onto my back and turned me over, before tugging me onto all fours and thrusting into me once more. He bent himself fully over me, his hands next to mine on the nest of blankets beneath us, pressing kisses to neck and shoulders as he fucked me. He quickened his pace, his pelvis slapping against my bottom with each quick thrust.
“I want to feel your release,” he grunted, slowing somewhat with the oncoming threat of his own orgasm. He stood straight on his knees and stayed still as I rocked myself back and forth against him, moaning as the tip of his prick worked my G-spot.
“Here,” I said, and reached back to lead one of his hands between my thighs to just above where we were joined. I pressed his middle finger to my clitoris. “Rub me
here,” I breathed, and he obliged.
“I want to watch you,” he all but growled. “I want to see your face.” And I pulled away and flipped over onto my back as he came to stand at the edge of the bed. He hooked his elbows around my bent knees and tugged me forward so my ass was on the very edge of the bed, and I reached forward between us to curl my fingers around his slippery shaft and directed it back into me.
He bucked his hips forward, making my tits bounce with every thrust, and pressed his thumb against my clit. But after a moment, he took my hand and directed my own fingers to the engorged kernel of my desire, and I began to rub myself as he fucked me. He gripped my breast with one hand and bent forward, peering into my face.
“Come for me,” he whispered, and I could do nothing but obey his command. I shuddered as my body tense and released, popping like an arrow shot from the taut string of a bow.
Urged by the sensations of my own orgasm, Calder grunted and gave one final thrust deep into me, orgasming with the full force of his considerable strength. He trembled, and collapsed atop me, panting as I felt his member quiver in my sheath. I caught his lips in a kiss and he kissed me back, brushing my hair back from my forehead.
When his breathing and mine had returned to normal, he pulled away, and I felt his hot come run down my thighs. I smiled. “Yes,” I said at length, and he quirked a brow at me as he propped his head up on his hand, “Yes. We can finally go to sleep.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: CALDER FEV’ROSK
We awoke to the light streaming in through the stained glass window, situated high, near the roof beams, and casting glittering beams of color over our faces. I saw her smile and stretch her arms up high over her head, turning herself toward me so that she might rest her head on my chest. I cradled her, watched her as she pulled herself from the throes of slumber to join the waking world, and memorized the delicate lines of her face.
She threw the blankets off and sat upright, covering her mouth with the back of her hand as she yawned. “I am hungry,” she announced, and I pretended to object at being drawn away from my bed.
The village was a bustle of activity, and I could hear the people going about their day even through the walls of brick and wood and stone. Something warmed me from the inside out, to be here in my home, with my wife. She fetched her golden gown and stepped into it, wiggling until she’d gotten it over her hips, and slipping her arms into the sleeves. She laced up the front of it, and proffered a smile. “We need to get you something else to wear,” I said, my eyes sweeping over her from top to bottom.
After I’d dressed, the two of us climbed down from the loft and I stamped out the embers in the fire pit. “Come,” I said to her, unlatching the front door and holding it open for my lady, “we shall go to the market.”
***
It was not a long journey, to be sure, but we went at a leisurely pace, passing by the houses of my neighbors so Lore could admire the flowers and greenery beginning to peek out of the earth with the onset of day. “How strange,” she said, as we weaved our way through the packed dirt path that cut through the grass. “Last night it looked so barren.”
“The plants burrow down into the ground, or close themselves up in their leaves, for the Winternight,” I said. “I have often maintained that this planet was really two worlds. The day and the night. The day is warm and ripe, an excellent place to live and thrive. But the night? During the night, the air alone can kill you. To say nothing of the beasts that roam it, plucking off whatever creature was foolish enough to be caught out of doors.”
“I do not understand how any sentient beings could evolve here,” she asserted, hooking her arm through mine.
“Well, and they did not,” I said. “Remember, this is not the Qeteshi home planet. That one, legend has it, was utterly destroyed.”
“And do you think that the extinction of your women has something to do with the planet?”
“That I could not say.” We walked quietly for a moment, and I bent my head in contemplation. “But I think it is, yes,” I said. “I can think of nothing else. We were not attacked, the men did not fall ill.”
“This sickness,” she said, “What was it like, for the women?”
“A fever, at first,” I replied, “then intense lower abdominal pain that often resulted in tumors the size of my fist. Many of them stopped eating, and starved to death as a result of the tumor. Surgical intervention prolonged life, but did not save it.” I shook my head. “I wish I knew more.”
“Could it happen to me, do you think?” she asked, a question I am ashamed to admit I had not considered. “If I were to stay here, with you. Do you think it could happen to me?”
I stopped us in our tracks and peered down into her beautiful face, lifting a hand to brush my fingertips across the smooth plane of her cheek. “I do not know,” I said, my voice hovering just above a whisper. “I do not think you will fall ill, but I do not know. None of the Europax have fallen ill. But neither have their unions with my men born any fruit. I do not know if the two are connected. As you can plainly see, there is much I do not know.”
She gave a subtle nod of her head and we continued, content to let the frightening prospect of more illness and more death fall to the wayside.
The market was a bustle of activity, and I watched her face as she took it all in, delighting in the cornucopia of colors, smells, and music the market had to offer. The Spire was the fermata’s dot, and the market was the first half circle around it with two lines of stalls and cobble stone pathways between it.
Brightly colored rugs and tapestries hung all over one of the stalls, while the one next to it overflowed with pots of beans and spices. Across from that, displays of copper and brassware, and next to that, baskets of fresh fruits and vegetables. Lorelei brushed her fingers over strand after strand of glass beads and shell necklaces, before she turned around at the urging of a shopkeeper in the stall opposite. He offered her a free sample of a dried danse fruit, and she popped it into her mouth, mmming her satisfaction as she thanked him for the food.
“Come,” I said, and drew her further down the line, weaving in and out of the Qeteshi men and Europax women who were in the market to buy, sell, or trade. The air smelled sweetly of incense and spices and I drew my lady into a stall selling fabrics and ready-made clothing. There was a black haired Europax woman running the stall, and she wore an example of her craftsmanship: Her pants sat high on the waist, and cropped mid-calf, and her top had sleeves coming down to her elbow with the hem ending just below her ribcage. And finally, she wore a beautifully woven length of silk draped elaborately around her body, hanging over her left shoulder. The silk was black and gold, and the effect was rather stunning, I thought.
“What do you think?” I asked Lore, as she looked through some of the garments.
“I think they are lovely,” she said, and the Europax smiled.
“Thank you,” the shopkeeper said. “We weave them by hand, my husband and I. May I make a suggestion for you, my lady?”
“By all means,” Lore agreed.
The shopkeeper disappeared at the back of the stall and returned a moment later with a set of folded items in her arms. She placed them on the display table and presented them to Lorelei one by one.
“This is one of my favorite sets,” she said, holding up a cap sleeved top in royal blue with tiny golden flowers, and matching drawstring pants. Then she held the decorative fabric up for Lore to admire, royal blue fading into a rich green with golden flowers embroidered along the edges. It was truly a work of art. “And I believe, my lady, it would quite compliment your coloring.”
“Oh, it’s perfect,” Lore said, rubbing the fabric gently between her thumb and index finger.
“We’ll take it,” I said, smiling. “How much?”
“Please,” she said, and pressed the garment into Lorelei’s arms. “Allow it to be a wedding gift, from my husband and myself to our king and his new queen.”
***
We returned to the Spire, having purchased not only the clothing, but a box of dried melon, a set of golden bangles, royal blue slippers, and saccharine sweet perfume that Lorelei seemed to enjoy for some reason, and we retreated to our private quarters to bathe, dress, and begin the day as leaders of this village.
It all seemed strangely normal, as though this were a day in a string of days that was our shared life together. We met with the treasurer to go over the costs of freeing the women, and how much Lorelei expected she could reasonably have returned. “Think about it like a loan,” she offered, altogether more optimistic than I thought she had a right to be, “and think about putting interest on it. Say, ten percent? That seems fair, does it not?”
The treasurer and I exchanged a set of dubious glances, but perhaps she had more sway with her Echelon cohorts than I was giving her credit for. Then we met with the market director to discuss real estate space, and finally with the director of the mating program, a Europax woman who lived and worked among us but had not, herself, taken a mate. She reported her findings — dismal, to say the very least — and indicated that she had recently sent her status report back to the Echelon and was awaiting further instruction.
“Is there a scenario,” I broached gently, “wherein the program is terminated?”
“We are a long ways away from that,” came her tepid reply, and it was not what I wanted to hear. “First, there will be medical intervention. There is a lot we still can do.”
When she left, Lorelei took my hand and gave it a squeeze. “It is not yet time to worry about the future of your people,” she said, and I nodded.
The day began to wane before Waelden indicated the Quarter Moon coterie had returned to the surface of the planet. I donned my crown before marching out of the Spire with Lorelei and a smattering of armed guards in tow. We came out of the main entrance and were greeted by a small collection of Keldeeri, including Garrick Thassian himself.
Alien Prince: (Bride of Qetesh) An Alien SciFi Romance Page 12
