by Cara Bristol
March lifted her in his arms and buried his face between her breasts. Her back arched, and she grabbed handfuls of his hair. He couldn’t hold her and tread water, and they sank.
Sooner or later, one or both of them would drown. When they bobbed to the surface, he pulled her atop his body and backstroked to the shallows. When he could stand, he picked her up and waded ashore to a bed of soft moss beneath the boughs of a flowering tree.
“Are you sure about this?” It killed him to ask.
“Of many things, no. Of this? Yes.” She reached for him.
He kissed her the way he needed to, fusing his mouth to hers, filling himself with her taste and scent. Her tongue, moving against his, sent tendrils of desire curling to his toes. Too long. Too long. Too many lonely years had separated them. He couldn’t escape the notion this was a dream.
Body and soul ached. His teeth hurt. His cock swelled to the point of pain.
He dragged his mouth to her neck to taste her soft skin. He skimmed over her collarbone to her shoulder then followed it down to her hands where he kissed each individual finger and placed a promise in the palm of her hand. She closed her fist around it and held it to her chest like a treasure.
What if she’d just been swept away by the moment? She cared, but did she care enough? Did she have the strength to face the shitstorm her abdication would unleash? She’d caved under the weight of pressure once before.
Of course, he hadn’t told her he loved her then, believing with a young man’s inexperience they had time to discover each other and their feelings. Stupid on his part, but then she’d never chosen to enlighten him of her titled status. “I couldn’t stand to lose you again,” he said.
“You won’t. I promise.”
How do I know?
Black eyes glistened with tears. She stroked his cheek with a gentle finger. “I can’t predict what will happen with my people or my planet, but I vow to you, nothing short of death would cause me to break my promise. I love you,” she said. “I’ve never said that to another person. I never felt it until I met you.”
A lump formed in his throat. “I love you, Julietta.”
“Jules. Call me Jules.” She wound her arms around his neck and pulled him to her.
Love unleashed the passion in their kiss. He couldn’t get enough of her. He plundered her mouth, and she gave without hesitation, arching into his embrace, rubbing her hard-tipped soft breasts against his chest. Nerve endings lit up.
Mewling sounds escaped her throat when he sucked her nipples to greater hardness, rolling the buds around on his tongue. He inhaled as she explored his body, scraping her nails across his chest before venturing lower. Lust, fierce and demanding, shot up his shaft to his abdomen.
She closed her fist around his erection and pumped, drawing groans of pleasure from his throat. Pressure built at the base, and March wrenched away, ordering nanos to lower the heat before he lost it.
With a slightly tighter grip on his control, he licked and kissed his way down her body until he could fit himself between her legs. He anointed her feminine core, exploring and claiming, until he felt the flutters of her impending orgasm around his fingers.
He scrambled upwards, and with her taste still coating his lips, he kissed her again. Guiding his cock to her entrance, he rocked inside. She closed around him, tighter than tight.
He stifled a groan of pleasure and stilled to allow her body to adjust. “All right?”
“Perfect.” She locked her heels against his ass and arms around his neck.
Propping himself up to avoid crushing her, he thrust, savoring every sensation, chasing away the doubts and memories.
Bliss flooded his brain, his cock, his body. Sweat beaded on his temples, dampened his chest.
Heat and pressure merged into one urgent sensation. Steady thrusts became fast then morphed into frantic. He tried to slow, to savor, but human need overrode cyber-programming. Around his dick, her core contracted with rhythmic squeezes, pushing his body past the point of no return.
Jules’s face flooded with color, her eyes squeezed shut, and her mouth formed an O as she came. March bellowed then gritted his teeth as ecstasy burned through him in a seismic wave. He shuddered as he wrung himself out, giving everything, holding back nothing.
Chapter Fourteen
The gentle beat of March’s heart played like a love song in Julietta’s ear. She snuggled closer to his warm body, a contented smile tugging at her lips.
After exiting the pool, they’d yanked their clothing over their wet skin and sneaked through the halls to her personal chamber then peeled off their damp garments, fell into bed, and made love again. She couldn’t imagine getting enough of him anytime soon.
Julietta smoothed her hand over his muscled chest and abdomen. “I can’t wait to see Terra again.” Couldn’t wait to go back with him. She would miss her family, her planet, her people, but in time, perhaps they would forgive her.
March’s arms tightened around her, and then he sighed. Not a contented sigh but an uneasy one.
“What’s wrong? Isn’t that the plan?” She’d assumed…
“It is, but I want you to be sure,” he said.
“Sure?”
“That you want to return with me. You will give up so much, and it will unleash political chaos.”
He feared she would bow to the pressure. She couldn’t blame him for worrying. She had caved once before. “I can’t lie. There will be upheaval. No one has abdicated before. But as long as you’re with me, I’ll get through it, and we’ll be together.”
“What if you regret it later?”
“I won’t.” She would regret disappointing her parents and the people of Xenia, but the rightness of her decision would not waver. “From the outside, it appears I changed my mind on a whim, but that’s false. I’ve always been restless, disconnected, but didn’t understand why. By virtue of my birth, I was destined to be empress, but I never desired to be. I did not feel a calling to rule, but I planned to accept the scepter because it was expected. I didn’t understand my discontent until I went to Terra.” She shifted on the bed. “My mother is a Terranphile,” Julietta explained. “She loves Earth culture and stirred my curiosity to see for myself, so when I finished my schooling here, and she encouraged me to attend the Terran Technical Institute, I jumped at the chance.”
“And you met me.”
“I met you—and fell in love,” she said softly. “And then I knew what my life lacked.”
“You still left.”
“Duty still held me captive, but if I hadn’t left when I did, I would not have been able to ever. Leaving you became my greatest regret. I resigned myself to an empty life, and then you showed up at the banquet.
“I’d been preparing for my role for so long, I didn’t see any other possibility, any other option open to me. It was like believing a lie, a myth you are taught. It becomes so ingrained, you don’t even question it. But, your arrival ripped off my blinders and showed me I do not have to follow through with the bonding ceremony. I do have a choice. It took a while for my mind to catch up, but my heart knew immediately when I saw you again.” March narrowed his eyes as he studied her face. “Speaking of the bonding ceremony…” He stroked a swirling pattern over her temple and cheeks. “Isn’t the design on your face supposed to last a while? It’s almost gone. I guess the mineral water in the pool must have erased it.”
“No,” she said. “Making love did that. Everyone who sees me will know I consummated a union.” She caught his hand and kissed his fingers. “It’s you. It’s always been you. You were my first, and you will be my last.”
His eyes blazed. “You haven’t been with anyone else since Terra?”
“No, I could not.”
His mouth seared her lips in a long, passionate kiss. When he released her, his eyes glowed with satisfaction, but then they clouded.
“What’s wrong?’ she asked.
“I never stopped loving you,” he said. “But, there were
oth—”
She pressed a finger to his lips to silence the confession.
“They didn’t matt—”
“We were apart for five of your Earth years. Whatever happened doesn’t matter.”
“Because Xenians practice an open sexuality and do not get jealous…”
“Because I choose not to dwell on it so I don’t have to hunt down your former lovers and rip their hair out.”
“They were not lovers, they were sex partners. You are my lover,” he said.
“And you are mine.”
He averted his gaze, looking hesitant, uncertain. A pang shot through her, but she could not fault him. I do not deserve his love. I haven’t earned his trust. Words could be said, but they could not repair. Only time could do that. She vowed to spend the rest of her life proving her loyalty and devotion.
“I would like you to come to Terra…as my wife. I would like you to marry me.”
Breath caught in her throat. Marriage was the Terran’s version of—“Bonded? You want to bond with me?”
“If you’ll have me,” he said.
“Yes!” She threw herself on top of him, laughing. Tears of joy leaked from her eyes and mingled with their kiss. Afterwards she settled on his chest, breathing in his scent and savoring the fulfillment of true contentment. March was her life, her coming-home place. There would never be another but him.
* * * *
March hugged Julietta tight to his chest. Her closeness, her soft form, her open joy at the prospect of being his wife washed away most of his doubts. He loved her. She loved him. She was back in his arms where she belonged, where he needed her, and she’d agreed to marry him.
All he had to do now was get her to Terra. No easy feat. Her father—the emperor—and her people would balk at the defection. A real Sha’A’la might occur, and he might have to fight to get her off planet—unless he could sneak her off. In any case, repercussions would ripple throughout the galaxy, damaging diplomatic hard-won, still-fragile relationships. Believing an alien had stolen their future empress, Xenia might retreat permanently into isolationism. The odds of Cy-Ops—or any outsider—being allowed to establish an outpost would drop to zero. Carter would be furious.
Fuck Carter. When March had served with Cyber Operations the first time around, his personal life had come second to the organization. Second? He’d had no life at all. Cy-Ops had been it. Even as a freelancer, he’d put his life on hold for those special assignments. He’d paid his dues. Carter could damn well cut him some slack. He and Julietta deserved to be happy, to have a normal life.
But he couldn’t deny happiness came with a cost. “How bad do you think it will be when you abdicate? What will happen?
“Chaos in the short-term until my father and the council figure out what to do. They have a year before my father must pass the scepter. My sister would replace me, should I die, but that’s not the case here, and she is only sixteen solar cycles, far too young to rule, too young to bond and produce an heir.”
“Your planet relies on tradition.”
“Yes. Tradition unites us, brought us peace. Without it, our planet experienced constant strife when the five tribes warred.” Julietta peered at him. “The Sha’A’la is a throwback to our ancient history when one tribe would kidnap a mate from another clan, and there would be a fight. Whoever won, kept her.
“The first emperor from my family brought all the tribes under the empire and formed one Xenia, but our shared customs united us in harmony. Through our rituals and beliefs, we achieved peace. That is why my people resist cultural change.”
She rolled off him and sat up. “Some traditions must adapt. We changed when we united and chose peace over war. It is time again. My departure will cause unhappiness in the short run, but for the future, it will be good for my people.”
There was another option she hadn’t mentioned. It wasn’t his first choice, but for Jules, he would sacrifice, if that’s what she wanted. He took a breath. “What if you stayed—”
Her head snapped up. “No—”
She said she didn’t want to be empress, but his gut told him she would regret abdication. She was born to rule, had been educated for it, prepared for it. She loved her people. When she spoke of her history, her traditions, pride rang out in her voice. “Hear me out. What if we stayed, we bonded, and you accepted the scepter? I could become your consort, and you could rule. I would help you.” He’d stand beside her, supporting her, loving her.
“Sounds reasonable, doesn’t it? Except, it could never happen. An alien is not allowed to become the consort of the future emperor or empress. It is, how you say, illegal. No officiant would perform the ceremony, and the union would be invalid if he did.”
Her lips curved with a regretful smile. “When I announce that I choose you as my mate and abdicate, I will be banished. I will not be able to come back, not even for a visit.”
Chapter Fifteen
“You never did explain exactly how you ended up fighting in the Sha’A’la,” Jules said as they lingered in one of the many gardens.
“I was tagged to fill in. I had watched the rehearsals, and when Kur fell ill, your father asked me to substitute.”
“But how did you come to see the rehearsal at all?”
“Your father, again. He suggested I might like to observe. We’d spoken after I delivered the spacecraft.”
She gave him a sidelong glance. “One of the ZX7M’s? You’re not the one who usually delivers the ships.”
He smiled. “I volunteered to deliver the craft in hopes of doing a little investigation, to find you. I had no idea you were the princess, and I was delivering your spaceship.”
She hugged his arm, and he could tell his comment pleased her. But then she said, “You mean my father’s ship.”
“No, yours. Your father intended the ZX7M to be a gift to you and Naimo—I guess I spoiled the surprise.
“Oh.” She covered her smile with her hand. “Well, it is spoiled regardless. My father won’t present me with a spacecraft when I jilt Naimo, abdicate the throne, and leave Xenia.” She sobered and peered up at him. “How are we going to leave? I doubt he’ll provide us with transport.”
“Once we get back to morning side, I can contact my people, and they’ll send a ship for us.” Dale or Carter would pick them up.
“Your people?”
“Dale Homme, the owner of the shop that built the craft, has to come get me anyway.”
They strolled in companionable silence for a while, and then she said, “My father must like you if he invited you to watch the Sha’A’la rehearsal.”
March shrugged. “We have mutual acquaintances, but he won’t like me after your announcement.”
“Probably not,” she agreed, her mouth trimming to a grim line. “And he will like me even less.”
“He’s your father. He will love you, no matter what.”
“The citizens of Xenia come first. Feelings won’t influence what he does for our planet.” She hugged March’s arm. “Let’s not talk about that. Tell me something positive. Tell me about this manufacturing plant you work for.”
Used to work for since the reenlistment with Cy-Ops. “I supervised the diagnostics and repair lab,” he said. “My boss has a way with machinery, spaceships. He runs what’s called a remanufacturing plant, a chop shop. He buys pre-owned ships and reconfigures them into new ships—except the ZX7M. She was designed and built from the ground up.”
“This shop is located on Terra?”
“No. It’s near Naran.”
She frowned. “Isn’t Naran barren, uninhabitable?”
Dale’s installation wasn’t as covert as Cy-Ops, but it still operated off the grid. Not everyone his former boss dealt with ran on the right side of galactic authorities, which was how he managed to acquire some of the ships. Next to Xenia, Cy-Ops was Dale’s second biggest client, so confidentiality was paramount. Many employees at Moonbeam didn’t know where they were since they were brought to the subterra
nean factory under blackout conditions.
First Cy-Ops then Moonbeam, now Cy-Ops, again. March had worked in so much secrecy and isolation, openness didn’t come easy, but he loved and trusted Jules, and her father already knew about Moonbeam—he’d ordered an entire fleet. “The shop is located beneath the surface of Naran’s moon, Deceptio. It’s a hidden installation.”
“You live there, too? That’s where we’ll live? We won’t be going to Terra?”
“I lived there until recently, but we’ll be going to Earth. Promise.” He squeezed her hand. “I, um, won’t be working for Moonbeam anymore. I’m going to work for another organization.”
“Doing what?”
Infiltrating enemy territory. Gathering intel. Rescuing hostages, fighting terrorism, and continuing to help in any way possible to capture or kill Lamani, the leader and mastermind behind the attacks perpetuated by Lamis-Odg.
March shrugged. “Assorted and sundry tasks.”
“You sound very mysterious.” She halted and peered up at him. He couldn’t read the expression in her eyes, but they narrowed. “You’re going to work for an organization that needs the skills of a cyborg, aren’t you?”
She’d always been astute. He should prevaricate, fabricate a plausibility, like he was going to be a planetary surveyor or something, but he couldn’t lie to Jules. Security prevented him from revealing everything, but the little he could say, he wanted to be true. “Yes. But I can’t tell you more.”
“It’s dangerous, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“So I could lose you again!”
“No, you won’t.” He pulled her into a hug. The last time he served with Cy-Ops, his only goal had been to complete the missions. Now, he would complete his assignments so he could come home to her.
