Seeran: Warlord Brides (Warriors of Sangrin Book 6)

by Nancey Cummings

  Lorran finished off his bowl with a loud smack. “You gave him his fires back and I thank you.”

  “Who made the food?” she asked, desperate to change the subject. She didn’t want to talk about Seeran’s dead wife.

  “Do you find it unacceptable?”

  “What? No. It’s fine. I’m just curious.” Hazel gestured to the hydroponics which created a green canopy above the room. The vegetation added a crispness to the air. “The ingredients are fresh, not packaged or from a machine.”

  “Good. An elder prepares the meals. The warlord has made many such improvements for his female. Are you going to finish that?”

  Hazel pushed over her bowl. “I don’t see that many elders.”

  “This clan is in flux but when a male’s horns go grey, he may retire. Often he teaches the young.”

  “Or cooks.”

  “He remains in service to the clan in some fashion. Those with mates often choose to remain on the planet and raise their sons.”

  She didn’t want to ask because she knew the answer would be sad but she couldn't help herself. “What happens to those without mates?”

  “When their bones ache and the grey is in their horns, they often choose battle as an end. It is honorable.”

  Hazel watched Lorran finish her bowl of stew.

  “What about your father?” she finally asked. “Does he serve the clan still?” Seeran spoke often of his parents in the plural, as a unit, but seldom as individuals. She knew little about his family other than the vineyard and his mother’s taste in decorating.

  Lorran nodded. “My father no longer served in battle when I was young. He serves on the Council now. Has your mane changed?”

  Hazel rolled her eyes. “Very observant, warrior.”

  “I am pleased you detected that,” Lorran said, chest puffing with pride. “I am the most observant of my brothers.”

  “Who’s this?” Mia sank down onto the bench next to Hazel, her tray slapping down on the table. Her own bowl of stew sloshed over the rim.

  “I thought you were forbidden from hanging out with me,” Hazel said, her voice more sour than intended.

  “I was forbidden from your quarters,” Mia said. “This is public. We just ran into each other.”

  “Devious.”

  “Happenstance. So—”

  “Oh, my brother-in-law, Lorran.”

  “Charmed.” Mia gave him a brief smile then turned her attention back to Hazel. “I need sugar.”

  Years of bringing hungry people food and beverages kicked in. “I have just the thing. Sit tight.”

  Hazel made her way to the reconstructor units embedded in the wall. She needed two ingredients for what she had in mind. It was simple but showy and delivered on the sugar.

  “I insist you remain at the table,” Lorran said, hovering behind her.

  “I’m not getting food,” she said, scrolling through a menu. The characters were in a language she couldn’t read yet the translator chip had deciphered their meaning easily.

  “It is unseemly.”

  “I just want to make my friend a drink.” Hazel scanned the hall and found several eyes on her, the scandalous and unclaimed female. “Fine. I’ll tell you the ingredients but I get to assemble.”

  Lorran nodded. “That is acceptable.”

  He carried back to the table a tray with two fluted glasses, a lump of pink cotton candy and a ginger ale. Mia’s eyes went wide but she said nothing as Hazel stuffed the glasses with the pink spun sugar. She cooed in delight as Hazel poured the ginger ale and the candy dissolved in a burst of pink bubbles.

  “A sweet nebula,” Hazel said, handing Mia a glass. “Pouring these tableside was the best part of my old job.”

  Mia took a sip. “Oh, that’s disgusting. My teeth hurt.”

  “You asked for sugar.” Hazel took her own cautious sip, finding it as overbearingly sweet as on Earth.

  “I like it but it’s not for everyday, not if I want to avoid cavities.” Mia took another sip. “Have you thought about getting a job?”

  “As what? My only work experience is as a waitress and that’s not allowed, apparently.” Considering all the shocked and disturbed expressions she received just ordering a drink, waitressing was off the table.

  “It is true,” Lorran said. “It is the height of deviance for a female to serve a meal to a male. I understand you were very bold on Earth but my brother allowed this as you did not know it was wrong.”

  “Is he serious right now?” Mia asked.

  “Some kind of cultural taboo,” Hazel explained after another round of eyerolls. “Seeran flipped his lid when I tried to make him toast one morning, so waitressing is out and that’s all I’m qualified for.”

  “Pfft. I don’t believe that. We have two human nurses.”

  “They were nurses before they got here.” Hazel said.

  “Well, I’ve been talking to Mercy and she said that the ladies were allowed any occupation they liked.”

  Hazel was unsure what occupation she’d like. She had been a housewife for many years. She enjoyed cooking meals and did get satisfaction from cleaning her home. Staying a housewife had genuine appeal, especially if she and Seeran had kids. She’d like that much better than serving plates of food to scandalized aliens.

  “I’m going to open a beauty parlor,” Mia said, “and you’re my first employee.”

  “I’m not a beautician.”

  Now it was Mia’s turn to roll her eyes. “Not to cut hair.”

  “I’m not going to sweep the floor.” She couldn’t see how she’d be qualified to do anything else in Mia’s dream beauty parlor.

  “You have experience handling money and organizing. You’ll be the office manager.”

  “Doing what exactly? And there’s no money on the ship.”

  “Scheduling. Making small talk. Ordering supplies. And we have a monthly allowance of tokens. That’s our currency.”

  “We couldn’t charge.”

  “Why not? Supplies cost tokens. We won’t charge a lot, just enough to cover expenses and maybe a little extra for something nice. Mercy said there’s space and we’re getting more ladies every day. The warriors might be fine hacking their own hair with a knife but that won’t fly with most women.”

  Hazel listened to Mia’s plan to open the best—and only—beauty parlor for humans and Mahdfel. She made it sound exciting, like the endless hours of work would be two friends hanging out and not, in fact, standing on their feet all day. Or sweeping hair.

  “I would like to meet more people,” Hazel said.

  “I knew you’d be onboard! Now we need a name. Mama Mia’s!”

  “Oh no.”

  “Starstruck?”

  “You want customers, right?”

  Mia thought while she ate her stew, offering out terrible name suggestions.

  A shadow loomed over the table. Lorran sprang to his feet immediately. For a moment Hazel believed it was Seeran about to give his brother a hard time for not hovering protectively enough. She looked up, smile ready, and found trouble.

  “Female, you were told to stay away from this one,” Cen said, glowering at Mia.

  “You told me to stay out of her apartment,” Mia said sweetly. She batted her lashes but Cen was unmoved.

  “I forbade you from the presence of this rejected female—”

  “Hey!” Hazel managed, just before Lorran pushed Cen back.

  “That is enough, warrior,” Lorran warned.

  “Did your milk blood brother pass this defective female off on you?” Cen spat out a harsh laugh.

  Several things happened at once. Mia begged for Cen to let it go. Cen grabbed Mia by the arm, jerking her up. Hazel tossed the bowl of stew at him. He turned on her and raised a fist. Before Hazel could close her eyes or flinch, Lorran was on him.

  The two men grappled, knocking over the table and scattering the benches. They were a blur of horns and fists. Hazel pulled Mia back. They were helpless to stop the fight.


  Security arrived, at least the warriors carried themselves with the authority of security. Hazel recognized Seeran and her heart beat a little faster. The men were separated. Seeran cuffed Lorran behind the ears but forced Cen to the floor. He placed force cuffs on his wrists.

  “No, please, let him go. He didn’t do anything!” Mia struggled in Hazel’s arms but she held fast until Mia gave up and sobbed on her shoulder.

  Seeran stood tall over the kneeling man. “Warrior known as Cen, I charge you with conspiring against your clan with the Suhlik. Your life is no longer your own. It rests with the warlord.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Hazel

  It had been the longest day and the strangest day. She was at once exhausted and too ramped up to rest. She followed Seeran docily to their quarters and then through their rooms, letting him lead her by the hand. She couldn’t find the words to understand what she saw.

  Seeran sat her down in the comfy chair and brought a mug of the pungent, spicy tea he preferred. He crouched at her feet and removed her shoes. His strong fingers worked into the tense muscles, finding knots and releasing them.

  “What troubles you, mate?”

  She sat the mug down. “What’s going to happen to Mia?”

  “If pregnant, she will return to Cen’s family. If he has none, she will remain here. The clan will provide for her and the young warrior. If not, she can be matched to another if she chooses, or she can return to Earth.”

  “You sound like he’s going to be executed.”

  “That decision rests with the warlord, but yes. Death is the only end for traitors.”

  Given the way Mia fell to her knees, begging—begging—for Cen’s life to be spared, she wasn’t going to want a new husband. Mia had been devoted to Cen, traitor or not. “Does he get a trial?”

  “My evidence is conclusive. His guilt is known.”

  Oh. Mia was about to be a widow. She felt so callous for even thinking it.

  “You are worried for your friend.”

  “I didn’t like the guy but I didn’t want him dead. And now Mia...” She trailed off. Her husband rubbed her feet and looked up at her with compassion. Her husband broke a few laws but the warlord found it to forgive him. Why was she the lucky one and Mia would suffer? She had to ask, “Why won’t the warlord spare Cen when he spared you?”

  His eyes softened. “It is good that you have a soft heart.”

  “Doesn’t feel so good right now,”she said.

  Crouched at her feet, Seeran smiled up at her, the tiniest bit of a fang peeking out over his bottom lip. There were several things she wanted to feel at the moment, most of them involving skin on skin contact.

  “You didn’t answer the question,” she prompted.

  “The warlord had use of me.”

  “So if Cen could be useful, he might not die?”

  “No one has use for a known traitor.” He kneaded the arch of her foot a bit too firmly.

  They could sit in silence and go through the motions of the day, and that would be perfectly comfortable. He’d continue to be emotionally distant and she’d carry on with her hidden fears and insecurities.

  This moment felt important. She could shape their relationship, make it stronger or make it worse. Potential welled up in her, waiting to be shaped.

  Hazel once chose the perfectly comfortable life and it turned into misery. She wanted something better with Seeran, something true and meaningful.

  “You haven’t rejected me, have you?” she asked.

  “Eh?”

  “Because I’m not Sangrin? I know your first wife was but if me being human bothers you so much—”

  “Not another word on that.” His hands worked up her thigh, brushing the back of his knuckles against the black fabric of her pants. She shifted in her seat and widened her thighs. His hand stopped at the apex. He leaned in, eyes cold and serious. “There is nothing about you that does not appeal.”

  “Am I defective?” she asked in a small voice, finally uttering her fear.

  Seeran withdrew his hand, the lack of it sparking an ache, and sat back on his heels. “Do you believe me to be broken?”

  Her gaze shifted to his missing horn but she said, “No. Absolutely not.”

  “But my actions on Earth broke the honor of the clan. I bear the signs of this. What is between us will always be tainted by that.”

  “Is that why you haven’t claimed me? Because of guilt?”

  He stared at a point over her shoulder. “I am unworthy.”

  “What you did on Earth was amazing. Fuck the rules. Fuck those cops who wouldn’t do their damn job.” Hazel grabbed him by his one horn and pulled his face to hers. “Never doubt that you’re my hero, Seeran Rhew.”

  She intended the kiss to be light, reassuring, but he met her with such enthusiasm it grew in intensity. A hot flush spread over her and she needed to feel him against her.

  He pulled away reluctantly. “There’s something I’ve waited to show you.”

  He moved to the paper and lattice wood panels. Embedded lights behind the panels gave the illusion of sunlight. “Open it.”

  “I thought you said these panels weren’t real. They’re just for show.”

  “Most are but these are real.” He waved his hand in front of an invisible sensor and the panel slid open, revealing a cleansing room.

  No, that wasn’t right. Their suit already had a standard cleansing room, this was something extra.

  The room was compact but not claustrophobic. At the center was a circular wooden tub, filled with steaming water, on a raised platform. A stream of water trickled out of a bamboo pipe, filling the room with the gentle sounds of falling water. Potted bamboo lined the wall behind the tub, the delicate green leaves refreshing against the simple wood paneling.

  A table near the tub held fluffy white towels and opaque white glass canisters. Hazel ran an appreciative hand over the towels and opened the canisters, discovering soap and lotions.

  “Turn around.”

  Hazel did as instructed. With the doors closed, a view screen took up the entire wall. A vista of verdant green hills and a distant mountain rising above the mist stretched across the wall. Pale purple flowers like cherry blossoms clustered at the edges of the screen, as if they were looking out a window from a private retreat.

  Hazel spun in a circle, taking in the steaming tub with it’s tempting hot water, the thick towels waiting nearby, the jars of lotions and sweet smelling soaps, and the breath taking, if artificial, view. This was a spa. Her too-serious warrior indulged himself with a spa.

  “How is this here?”

  Seeran shrugged. “I’ve been here long enough to make modest improvements. Do you like it?”

  “Some modest improvements? This is amazing.” She took a step toward the water, then hesitated. She glanced at Seeran, waiting for his nod of permission.

  “This is yours. You do not need to ask permission, my sweet one.”

  She blushed, not feeling so sweet at that moment.

  She was tired of being sweet and waiting. Seeran kept coddling her like she was a blushing virgin, all a flutter to be kissed when she wanted more. Needed more. His attraction wasn’t the issue—there is nothing about you that doesn’t appeal—but maybe she needed to get the ball rolling.

  She looked up, a grin tugging at her lips and climbed the steps to the tubs. “So I can jump on in?”

  Seeran cocked his head to the side. “What are you planning?”

  “Strip on down to my skivvies and hop in?” She lifted her shirt off over her head and tossed it in his direction. He caught it with ease.

  “I’m not opposed.”

  Hazel shimmied out of her pants, hurling them in his direction. Standing in just her underwear, she had a moment’s doubt. Did she read the mood correctly? She wore a bikini when they met, yes, but underwear seemed so much more intimate; vulnerable. She should have worn something better than plain cotton but stripping for her husband—or anyone, reall
y—wasn’t a normal part of her daily routine. Seeran didn’t seem to mind.

  His eyes ate her up from head to toe. “What are you doing, female?”

  “Seducing you.” If she had to explain, it clearly wasn’t working. Time to ramp it up.

  “Are those skivvies?”

  “Yes,” she said, “but I think I’d rather skinny dip.”

  He followed her movements as she slid her panties down her thighs and stepped out of them. She kicked them in his direction. He snatched them out of the air and brought the plain cotton fabric to his nose. He inhaled deeply, eyes fluttering close like her dirty panties were the greatest thing in the universe. His gaze was riveted on her as she unhooked her bra. Using one arm to shield her chest, she tossed the bra to him.

  Shielding herself, she eased into the water. This moment was more than desire. This was two people coming together to banish their ghosts, two people forging a new life together.

  No more waiting.

  “You made me a promise, warrior.”

  He shed his clothes and sank into the water. He hooked his arms over the edge of the tub and watched her, drinking her in. Normally she might feel shy under such scrutiny but she understood that Seeran did not seek out flaws or an extra five pounds on her hips. He desired every imperfect ounce of her. His gaze was as soft as the brush of fingertips over her aching nipples, electric and sending a charge of need through her. To think she once questioned her appeal because his first mate was from Sangrin and she was not.

  “Claim your mate,” she said.

  He moved fast, lunging through the water to her. In one motion, she was lifted, her belly pressed over the edge of the tub to the floor and her butt exposed. One hand, planted in the middle of her back, held her to the cold tile. The other hand explored her sensitive folds. Wet and aching, he spread her desire, fingers probing her entrance.

  “You make me lose control,” he growled in her ear, breath hot on her neck.

  “Good, because I’ve been trying to seduce you for weeks now.”

  He chuffed, pressing his face into her neck. He licked the skin there. “I won’t be gentle.”

  “Did I ask you to be gentle?” She rocked her hips, grinding into his hand.