Packing crates littered the entryway and workers carrying furniture and other paraphernalia moved in and out the open doors. Sounds of construction echoed from the interior. He wanted them gone. All he needed to be comfortable was a good bed and a certain red-haired vixen. Unfortunately, Steffania would be upset if he ran them off. She had her heart set on a sunken marble whirlpool tub big enough for two with a solid gold swan spout, a massaging, hand-held showerhead and heated towel racks. Not so easy to engineer on Verdantia, though he’d found the men to get it done – especially the massaging showerhead. He had plans for that.
So, the workmen stay for a while longer. He raked his hand through his hair and laughed silently at himself. He tried not to irritate her...most of the time...well, all right...occasionally. Goddess, I’ve gone soft. Besotted bastard.
The clattering hooves of an incoming messenger on the flagstone courtyard halted Ram’s progress and he waited for the man to stop and dismount. Ram didn’t know him, but the rider was a courier from Supreme Commander Eric DeStroia. Ram could not mistake the golden, two-headed phoenix adorning the saddlecloth.
He owed Eric. Eric’s sleuthing had found the evidence to overturn the charges against Ramsey for the murder of Desiree, and the Tetriarch had ignored his transgressions after that. Eric had fulfilled the promise he made to Ramsey one cataclysmic day on the plains of Vergaza when – against overwhelming odds – Ram had allied his sword and those of his men with the Tetriarch. Surprised I survived that encounter, actually.
“Sir, if you could help me please? I am looking for Lieutenant Colonel Rickard. They told me at the palace she had moved her headquarters here. Could you give me her direction?”
Ram snorted to himself. There goes any hope of privacy. News of the Blue Daggers’ relocation from Sylvan Mintoth had traveled fast. The world had come to their door.
The last three months had been a deluge of unwanted, aggravating, interminable and highly inconvenient assaults on his privacy. It began when the Tetriarch announced his pardon and the reinstatement of House DeKieran. Queen Constante had made the proclamation to a hushed audience hall bulging out the doors with the curious while his vixen glowed with a radiance that humbled him. Ari DeTano and Doral DeLorion had glared death – Ari because of the punch and Doral because Ram hadn’t had the good sense to die on Vxloncia. Ha! Ram snorted softly. He couldn’t have cared less. He figured DeTano owed Steffania several more punches for what happened on Vxloncia. The inconsistency in that thought didn’t bother him at all. As for Doral? His sister, Sophillia, would stay Doral’s hand. Ram grinned. She likes me.
Then the wedding. The wedding. Ram sucked a breath in with a hiss, as he remembered the endless functions and re-introductions into “proper” society. In some respects, he preferred his life as an accused murderer and thief. There, he could simply kill posturing fools. His vixen got mad when he snarled at people, so he sucked it up and played nice...most of the time...well...some of the time. He growled. Rescuing Alessa DeAlbero required less effort.
Steffania’s promotion had followed swiftly as the formal expression of the Second Tetriarch’s intense gratitude for service far exceeding duty to queen and country. The timing had been accelerated, perhaps, by Ramsey’s threat to dismember Ari DeTano if he didn’t expedite matters. Ram cared about nothing save his vixen’s happiness. His borderline violent confrontation with the High Lord of Verdantia and his devil of a lover to insure her happiness had not even created a stutter in his step.
Then, Steffania’s Blue Daggers relocated to the expansive estates that comprised the reinstated House DeKieran. Steffania refused to be parted from her hand-picked combat unit and DeTano acceded to her wishes. The Daggers were happy to leave their stark, austere, military barracks in Sylvan Mintoth for the far more luxurious and hospitable quarters on Ramsey’s private estate. Ram’s dreams of a quiet, pastoral retreat had been shattered when thirty-six active-duty combat soldiers arrived to stay. His stables bulged with horseflesh and the quiet courtyards surrounding the mansion rang with practice bouts.
Yes, overall, he was ready to consign everyone but Steffania to the seven hells.
With a heavy sigh, he turned to the young courier. “Hand your horse off to a stable hand and follow me.” He didn’t bother to correct the rider’s use of Steffania’s maiden name. He wasn’t indifferent to the man’s mistake. It was a common one. But he liked the feeling of possession each time Steffania made a point to correct those addressing her. More, he craved the warm melting look she gave him as she said, “It’s DeKieran. Lieutenant Colonel DeKieran.” She nailed it. I’m a possessive, horny bastard.
When the young messenger rejoined him, Ram led him into the great hall of the residence. He stopped in the cavernous room, inhaled deeply, cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed, “Vixen! Someone to see you!” With a resigned shrug, he turned to the shocked messenger. “I never know where she is in this monstrosity of a house.”
Laughter from the second level answered his shout and the face of his flame-haired temptress appeared over the railing. “No respect. Absolutely no respect. DeKieran, you are confined to quarters,” she admonished.
He grinned up at her and gestured with his thumb to the dumbstruck messenger standing next to him. “A courier from DeStroia.”
“Yes, thank you, I can see that. Will you point him to my office? I’ll be right down.” Steffania’s head disappeared and Ramsey ushered the stammering young messenger into the large room that had been set up as an office for Lieutenant Colonel Steffania DeKieran of the Queen’s Blue Daggers.
“Lord DeKieran! Sorry, my Lord, not really necessary... ah, sir, I didn’t recognize you, that is, I’ve never met you but, um...I, well, ah . . .”
Ram snorted but took pity on the young man. “Sit. The lieutenant colonel will be with you in a minute.”
As Ramsey walked back toward his library, his roguish wife approached him in the hall with a brisk, “We must add more staff, DeKieran – at least someone to answer the door.”
He grabbed her for a thorough, ravishing kiss, loosening his grip when she melted against him in boneless surrender. “I’ll accept my confinement only if you join me.”
A soft bundle in his arms, she ran a finger over his lips, her voice a low purr. “Mmm, yes, confined to quarters until further notice.” She cast him a glance through half-lidded eyes. “I want time alone with you, my Lord.”
Ram leaned in and kissed her again, unwilling to release her. He ran his hand up and cupped her breast. Through the fine material of her uniform, his thumb played with the small gryphon charm on her nipple ring. The depth of his pleasure in knowing she had never removed it probably confirmed him as a controlling bastard. “That will be a novelty – time alone.”
She hummed and moved into his caress, then frowned slightly. “Yes, there hasn’t been much of that lately.” She brightened and smiled mysteriously. “And that is why I cleared the next three days for us. Gave everyone three days off. Told everyone to vacate the premises. It will be just you and me. Oh, and Lord DeKieran . . .” She looked down demurely. “I left something in your study –Dominus.” She rose on her toes, planted a salacious kiss on his mouth and then whirled out of reach with a saucy backward glance. Her heavy boots clicked briskly as she marched down the hall, once again all business.
Watching the sway of her tight little ass, Ram shook his head in bemusement, adjusted his pants and strolled into his masculine sanctuary. Crossing to the bar, he poured a strong drink then sauntered to the desk to see what his volatile, undisciplined, independent and dearly beloved, wife had left for him. He snorted and then a slow smile broadened his lips. Centered on the floor in front of the desk sat a black bag identical to the one left on Vxloncia. The tasseled ends of red and black rope peeked from the slightly open top. So, she has missed it, too.
Ram unlocked a drawer in his desk and pulled out the velvet-covered jewelry box he’d kept hidden from Steffania. With a predatory smile of intense satisfacti
on, he flipped open the lid. A golden collar, a tiny padlock and a key, duplicates of the ones abandoned on Vxloncia, lay nestled on a bed of white satin. Ram had ordered them the very day he and Steffania had returned to Verdantia but the immensely popular jeweler had not finished the set until recently. Ram intended to surprise Steffania but was waiting for a good time. Tonight, I put this collar around her neck and the great Mother willing, that is where it will stay.
He wondered how long before DeStroia’s courier left. Slinging the remainder of his drink down his throat, he set the glass down with a thump. I think I’ll hurry the man along.
Epilogue
“In the case of GAPS v Lontz, The Supreme Court for Galactic Jurisprudence, finds in favor of the Plaintiff, The Galactic Agency for the Protection of Sentients. We the Court, find Vxloncian male, Vital Lontz, guilty of eleven counts of violation of the Constitution for Sentient Rights.” A translation device hung suspended from the neck of a sinuous, androgynous entity of vaguely humanoid shape. The hermaphrodite, for this event displaying her female aspect, dropped her words into the silence of the courtroom. “As such, it is within our power to award the maximum sentence of ten NT Solar years to be served at hard labor for each count of violation. Furthermore, it is within the power of this Court to state that such years shall be served consecutively and not concurrently.” The judge’s gavel descended and the courtroom erupted into turmoil. The legal representatives for Vital Lontz leapt up and shouted for permission to approach the bench. The judge turned liquid black eyes on the entities shouting for her attention.
“Denied.”
Tok, observing the commotion, turned to his superior with a smile. “That is the last of them?”
The humanoid hermaphrodite nodded and blinked her satisfaction. “Yes.”
“So what happens next?”
“The League of Federated Planets makes Vxloncia a protectorate, and a League Protectorate General works with a court-appointed committee of the planet’s sentient species to restructure the planet’s government. The committee will bring Vxloncia in line with galactic standards. The laws are being rewritten with the usual guarantees for equality of gender. But as always, their absorption in social and cultural implementation will take time.”
Tok grunted. “And Narr’s lab? What happened to the females?”
His superior turned and began to make her way toward the exit. Tok followed. “They were transferred to Talleo IV for treatment. Narr’s estate will pay for their recovery. Oh, by the way, the DNA results have come back on the remains found hanging from a bondage frame in Narr’s villa. It is who I suspected – Narr.” Her liquid black eyes flashed to Tok as they worked toward the exit. “I see you are not surprised. But one question lingers in my mind. How did Narr come to be bound to his own cross? I would have liked to prosecute that male.” Tok’s superior stopped and regarded the Khlossian with an expression of inquiry.
Tok shrugged. “I could not say.”
His superior made a trilling, gurgling sound that indicated laughter amongst her species. “No, you will not say.” With a sigh, she resumed her exit. “I believe you know the Senior Medica in charge of the cerebral recovery on Talleo IV.”
“Yes, Angelica Giverny.”
Tok’s superior swung her gaze to Tok. “Her testimony today made the guilty verdict a certainty. Good find.”
Tok smiled and his rumble of a chuckle filled the air. “I didn’t find her. The stupid Verdantian did. Perhaps, not so stupid after all.”
~THE END~
About the author:
Patricia A. Knight is the pen name for an eternal romantic who lives in Dallas, Texas with her horses, dogs and the best man on the face of the earth – oh yeah, and the most enormous bullfrogs you will ever see. Word to the wise: don’t swim in the pool after dark.
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More of those Verdantians!
If you enjoyed Hers To Cherish, you might be interested in the beginnings of the Verdantian saga, Hers To Command, Book One, is the story of how all of this began.
Blurb: In an intricate dance of friendship, erotic partnership and selfless love, three natives of the sentient planet Verdantia must come together in an extraordinary effort to save their world…and themselves.
With the lives of the people of the planet hanging in the balance, Verdantia calls three of her own to restore her power. The impossible but gorgeous Conte Camliel Aristos DeTano, the beautiful, innocent future queen Princess Fleur Constante, and the conte’s loyal aide, the angelically handsome yet emotionally-scarred Visconte Doral DeLorion, must fight their own personal demons and assimilate in a poly relationship, lest their planet be lost.
The attraction between the three is palpable and so strong it will either bind them together forever—and restore strength to the energy shield of their planet’s capital—or destroy each of them.
What ensues is a passionate journey that explores and tests trust, friendship and the true meaning of love.
~ A Short Excerpt~
It was perhaps an hour later when her guard tapped lightly. “Your Highness.”
“Yes, Eric.”
“Conte DeTano is here.”
“Please admit him.” She watched from her seat on the chaise as Ari strode into the room.
“Your Highness.”
“Conte,” she smiled. “Please, sit.”
“I prefer to stand if it is the same to you, Your Highness,” he replied curtly.
“It is not. I dislike having you loom over me like a bomb about to explode.”
A laugh startled from his lips and he smiled as he sat down in the chair Patricio had vacated.
He is so handsome when he smiles.
“My second-in-command sent me some troublesome news today. I am out of sorts. I didn’t mean to direct my temper at you, Your Highness.”
“Apology accepted. I would like it very much if you would call me Fleur. You did before.”
“Yes, well. Being balls-deep between your legs creates a certain intimacy,” Ari said with a wicked grin. “If that is your wish, Your Highness, Fleur, it is.”
Heat crept up her cheeks. He says the most unexpected things. Taking a deep breath, she regrouped, handing Ari the scroll. “Tell me about this.”
He scanned carefully as he unrolled the stiff parchment. He stopped midway, then rolled it back up. With a soft chime of medallions, he re-tied the ribbons, placing it on a low table beside him. “What is it you wish to know?”
Oh dear. She studied his austere expression, trying to decide on a diplomatic way to start. “Why is marrying me so distasteful that you would flee the planet for fifteen years?” She winced inwardly. Tactful, Fleur—very subtle.
Ari’s eyes narrowed and his fingers started drumming on the arms of the chair. He rose and paced to the window, then stood looking out.
“It was not the thought of marriage to you that was distasteful. What was distasteful was the thought of a marriage to anyone based solely on my genetics. It is how you breed animals, not people. I am not a stud horse to be bred to Patricio’s favorite mare.” His back stiffened. “My apologies. I did not mean…”
“Please, Ari, sit down,” she interrupted. Patricio’s ‘mare’? Ouch.
“I prefer to stand,” he responded curtly, not moving from the window.
She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “I am not used to speaking to someone’s backside half-way across the room. Will you at least turn around?”<
br />
A smile flickered. He turned. “I didn’t want to ‘loom’.” Laughter lurked in his eyes, and a half-smile turned his lips.
He really is quite extraordinary. A soft laugh escaped her. “Thank you.”
He nodded and folded his arms across his chest, then crossed his legs at the ankles as he leaned back onto the windowsill. The heavy muscles of his arms and chest stretched his black knit sweater, and the black leather leggings tucked into his over-the-knee boots left little for her to imagine. Such a handsome man.
Something about the way his eyes explored her body sent heat up and down her spine then straight to her lady-parts. She remembered the weight of him as he lay atop her. She remembered looking up into his gold-flecked eyes, feeling his mobile lips caressing her cheeks, feeling the rough brush of his beard on her tender inner skin as he—mind on present business, Fleur!
“Ahem,” she cleared her throat. “So, have you given this contract any further thought? Do you still find it so distasteful?” Oh, by the gods, Fleur, show some subtlety. What is wrong with you?
“Why? Are you going to ask me to marry you?” He eyed her dispassionately.
She held his gaze steadily. How did this conversation get away from me? “Not today.”
“Good.” He looked at the timekeeper on her table. “Your Highness, I am very short on time. I will continue this discussion with you another day.” He started toward her door.
“You haven’t answered my question, sir!”
“Yes. No,” he tossed over his shoulder as he left the room.
Argggh! She slumped back onto the couch. Yes? No? What? She replayed their conversation.
Have you given this contract further thought? “Yes.” Do you still find it so distasteful? “No.”
Hers To Cherish (Verdantia Book 3) Page 21
