Queen of the Stars (The Royals of Adriel Book 1)

by Lorelei Orion

  “I could go anywhere,” she mused. “Even to Earth …”

  She had always wanted to see the planet with her own eyes. Earth and Adriel communicated daily, though their transmissions are twenty-five years later than actual time, coming at the speed of light. People from Earth were still coming to Adriel to stay, bringing with them superior technology—more were arriving all the time. Perhaps someday she would know the Human home.

  Feeling her mortality, she took solace in remembering a quote from the Bible: ‘And then shall he send his angels, and shall gather together his elect from the four winds, from the uttermost part of earth to the uttermost part of heaven.’

  Sarra stopped her pacing and peered out at the faint haze of a distant galaxy. Her eyes widened as it dawned on her. This was like an adventure, like what she had always wanted. But, she didn’t control the helm. And, she couldn’t call it ‘fun’. She was helpless, in the hands of a savage.

  She threw a wary glance at the bridge, hoping that he would sleep there.

  When the music quit and the door parted, her apprehension rose. He scowled at her and went off to the bath. She wrung her hands, worrying about spending another night like the last …

  She made an effort to look composed as he came near. He tossed her a gray nightshirt. “Put this on!” he snapped.

  Appalled that his mood hadn’t improved, she hurried to comply. Behind the locked door she changed quickly, and grimaced when she saw herself in the mirror. His nightshirt hung about her like a huge and shapeless, gray bag.

  When she couldn’t gracefully stall any longer, she braved the cabin. There he stood, silently accusing her with his eyes, raising his brow in the mocking of her appearance. He took her arm and hurried her along, pushing her down onto her bed. She gave him a vicious glare while he imprisoned her wrist in the handcuff.

  He dimmed the lights, and she turned her back while he stripped down to his undergarment and sank to his bed. It wasn’t long before the quiet became insufferable. His rancor was like a physical thing, his emotion hanging like a chill in the air.

  “I’m cold,” she said, despairingly. “May I please have a blanket?”

  He snarled and sprang up to yank the bedding out from under her, and over her, and dove back to his own space.

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  He growled.

  Sarra closed her eyes, trying to rest. But, having been alone for most of the day, she wanted to talk to somebody—anybody! She decided to ask him. “What did I do to make you so angry?”

  After a long while, he responded. “It’s not what you’ve done, Princess. It’s who you are.”

  “But, why?”

  “Go to sleep!” he barked. “It isn’t enough that I have to be near you, I have to listen to you, too?”

  She felt her tears coming and she swallowed hard, fighting them back while he sighed and thrashed about. What seemed an eon later, when his breathing came steadily, she felt safe enough to say it.

  “That is no way to talk to the woman who will one day choose if you live, or if you die.”

  Chapter 9

  Sarra rolled her head back and forth upon her pillow, lost in a dream. She was in a misty meadow, one verdantly lush and lit by the sun, warm and broken in the clouds. Merrily she laughed as a large hand pulled her down into a bed of fragrant, blue wildflowers. Green eyes smiled roguishly before he kissed her, his tongue brutally forcing her own, demanding that she know pleasure. He touched her soul and then she was naked, with her spirit free like the breeze. She wrapped her hands in his golden hair, her pulse racing while his firm lips teased her breasts, searing their hard and swollen tips, making her arch her back in rapture. She opened her eyes and saw the white above, the sky that cast its haze down to wet her cheeks, and her sparkling lashes met while she tasted the rain’s sweetness. His smooth hot palm moved sensuously upon her waist, slowly over her soft triangle … She spread her thighs to greet the flame at his fingertips and her passionate cry came as lightning shot through her. A mystic storm brewed, the heat was becoming unbearable … It was consuming her … torturing her …

  Sarra whimpered, becoming aware that her hands were caressing her breasts. Unable to stop herself, she slid a hand down to the ache between her thighs …

  She bolted up. Her gaze flew to his bed. He was gone, and the handcuff was off her wrist.

  She let out a jagged sigh and touched the dampness of her brow. Pulling the loose, gray nightshirt away, she saw her breasts, their tips swollen and red. She buried her blushing face into her pillow.

  Never had she had a dream like that! What if he had seen her? When had he left, and how long had she …? She tried to control her breathing, but fragments of the vivid fantasy still lingered, making her disappointed that that’s all it was.

  She slid onto her feet and peered into the cabin, seeing the red light on the panel near the bridge; he had locked himself in there, again. She was thankful—extremely so—knowing that she couldn’t mask her emotional vulnerability right now.

  Sarra changed into the pale-gray dress, the last of her selections. When at the nook she changed the bed into the table, and then went off to the galley. She found a plate of blueberry pancakes, and after she ate, she took a library computer from the entertainment console. Since this simple toy didn’t have the capability to send out a distress call, she did the next best thing and found a detailed series about star charts, locating information about the Kan Sector. She studiously minded the viewer screen’s ever-changing images, learning all that she could about Space Station Three, the Adrielian Embassy. When on Kan, how could she contact them? She put her energies into her scheming, but couldn’t stop the mysterious, tremulous sensations within her breasts that taunted her like an enemy.

  As time dragged on, she grew more frustrated. She returned the computer to its place and sat, absently watching the stars, trying to deny her irrational yearnings for the touch of her abductor.

  If she didn’t know better, she would truly believe that the man was a sorcerer. Or, was he …?

  “There is a better view than this.”

  She shot up. There he stood, eyeing her intently. His ruggedness, the way his golden shirt and black leggings clung to his long and lean frame, brought danger to her balance. Remembering all that he had done to her in her imagination, the heat came to her cheeks. She swallowed hard, mute.

  “Don’t you want to see?” he asked.

  She nodded. He sauntered toward the bridge and she followed, meekly. Her eyes widened when seeing the port.

  The darkness was alight with a cloud made of every color—shades of blue, red and gold all fanned out in a splendorous array.

  “The Elysian Nebula,” he said.

  In her awe Sarra glided over to the three windows, placing her palm on one. She had never seen it like this before. Although its core, the white-hot star clusters, was many light years away, its brilliance dazzled the eye. The massive entity seemed alive, its predominately blue, gaseous fog churning thickly. This was an emission nebula, fragments of a sun that had gone nova eons ago—an intense explosion that had created this stellar nursery. Small patches of space were seen beyond the cloud in places, making it look like a heavenly artist had splashed streams of opalescent paint onto a black canvas. Red stardust laced the outer fringes, as if roughly framing the masterpiece with fire. The Adrielian astronomers were right to name it ‘Elysian’; its imposing divinity was like a home for the gods. She wished that she could touch it and make it shimmer upon her hand.

  She realized, and said aloud, “I’ve never seen it this close before.”

  “Never?”

  She glanced askance to find him behind her, his face uncharacteristically polite. Warily, she shook her head. “No, I haven’t. I’ve seen its haze in the sky at night and in telescopes, but I’ve always wanted to see it out here, but father wouldn’t …” She bit her lip.

  A moment of silence passed.

  “I remember when I first saw it,” he
said, his voice soft. “I knew these eyes would never be the same, for all other beauty would pale in comparison.” He quietly added, “Almost all other.”

  Sarra began trembling, having a good idea about what he meant. His temper had improved and he seemed to have forgotten about their hostilities. She held her breath when he moved to dim the lights, but then was glad he had for the nebula was even brighter. She winced when his muscular arm came out alongside her, his finger pointing.

  “You see over there … ”

  Her gaze went to the red edge of the cloud.

  “That is the best entry into the sector,” he said. “Once inside, there is a path where you can see the largest star cluster clear from any haze.”

  “I didn’t know that,” she whispered, fascinated by the new knowledge and wanting to use it.

  “Yes. I recollect hearing that a science team once was so eager for action that they didn’t take precautions before entering the nebula. Such a volatile area of space—the crew nearly lost their boots in the static bolts and it took hours before they could persuade the ship’s controls to get them the hell out of there.”

  Sarra laughed, seeing an image of the chaos in her mind. Suddenly, she recalled who he was—the enemy. He stiffened also and took a step backward. He moved to the far window and looked out, standing with his hands behind his back, ignoring her. She mentally kicked herself for letting her guard down.

  Determined, she savored the skies beauty, and came to discover that something wasn’t right. The way to Elysian was nowhere near the Kan Sector and the ship was moving straight for it. In fact, at this time of year Kan should be at the opposite end of the solar system.

  She frowned. “Shouldn’t we be heading the other way?”

  “No,” he said, without turning around.

  “We’re not going to Kan?”

  He shrugged. “Does it matter?”

  Sarra felt her ire rising. “I should have known you would never tell me the truth!”

  “I didn’t lie. All I said was that the Kan Sector was almost a week away.”

  She snorted, indignant. “You have a warped understanding of honesty. You tricked me!”

  “Perhaps you had an escape planned?” he mocked.

  Her blue eyes narrowed. “Then tell me—where are you taking me?”

  He began coming near. She held her ground and didn’t back away. He stopped before her, standing akimbo, flaunting his tallness and patronizing her with his eyes.

  “Just enjoy the ride, Princess. Don’t worry your pretty head with it.”

  “Don’t worry! And I suppose you think that I have nothing more in my head than pretty bows?”

  He swept out an arm exaggeratedly and bent low.

  Sarra’s hands shot to her hips. Anyone who knew her well would have taken heed from the way her shoulders were drawn back and how her long nails dug into her hips. But, he couldn’t know that he had struck a sore nerve—how it maddened her when people didn’t look beyond her beauty to notice that she had a brain!

  “You are the most infuriating man! I have had enough of your secrets! You will tell me why you have abducted me!” she demanded. “Now!”

  He laughed, crossing his arms over his breast.

  “What are you afraid of? Perhaps there was no reason? Perhaps the Revolutionary cause is so lame that you have nothing better to do?” she gibed.

  Becoming irritated, he curled his lips. “You are persistent. Very well—one reason, of many. Adriel doesn’t like your choice for a mate.”

  She hid her surprise, realizing that she hadn’t thought of Lord Gray since her wedding day—and she wished she didn’t have to think of him now. “What does he have to do with anything?” she asked suspiciously.

  “Quite a lot. Still, it puzzles me why you—the apprized princess royal—would choose a man like him to occupy the Throne. What possessed you?”

  Sarra stared at him, her mouth agape. She wouldn’t reveal her true relationship with Taylor to this mere commoner! “You are incredibly ignorant,” she said, lifting her nose. “It is I who will take the Throne, not Lord Gray.”

  “You are naive, if you believe that you will be anything more than an ornament. He would be the true one in power. You are female, he is male.”

  “You savage!” she whispered.

  “You royal!” he whispered back.

  She gnashed her teeth and tightened her stance.

  “Why did you settle for him?” he asked. “His status? His ‘boyish charm’?” he scoffed. “I’ve heard it said that he has a following of women, though I can’t imagine why. Is this why you are so impatient to be returned to Adriel? Ahhh, it is such a shame that we tore you from his arms before your wedding night. Perhaps you hadn’t had the chance, yet—perhaps he hasn’t bedded you, yet. But, surely you’ve been mounted before by others who—”

  A craaack split the air. She became aware of the tingling within her palm and saw the red blotch already coming on his cheek. He looked as shocked as she felt—until his fury lashed out on his face.

  She regretted her impulse when he tossed her roughly onto his shoulder and made his way to drop her down on the lounge. She leapt down to the floor, crawling helplessly about the cabin on her hands and knees, horrified about why he was making the nook into a bed. He caught her, lifted her up, and dropped her down on the bed, locking her in the handcuffs.

  His eyes were dangerously cold. “That is the first and last time that you will strike me and get away with it. Be warned.”

  He stormed off to the bridge.

  Sarra quaked as she curled up, clutching her calves with her free arm. She closed her eyes as her tears came, and she wondered how she could have ever felt any attraction toward that abominable, horrid man.

  It was a long while later when he returned, grudgingly releasing her as if he had realized that he might have deserved her slap. He was merciful enough to give her a meal, and he dined quietly in the cabin while she tried to find her appetite sitting on her bunk. When she had her fill of the steak platter, he tossed the awful gray nightshirt at her. It would be wise not to argue; she changed in the bath. She didn’t bother to protest when he handcuffed her, and then everything became quiet.

  As she restlessly rolled on her side, she was stricken.

  The ship had changed course, for the nebula lit the port by his bed. He was lying with his back toward her, a masculine silhouette against the blue candescence. It was as if the man and the cloud were one—both together in the sky, both belonging to mystery.

  Sarra stared until her eyelids grew heavy, wondering if she had ever seen such a mesmerizing sight.

  ***

  When Sarra woke, she was in the throes of her exquisite dream. She thrashed feverishly about, being in his imaginary arms, until she caught herself, relieved—and disappointed—to find herself alone. She rose quickly and turned the nook back into the table and benches. He was on the bridge, and she sincerely hoped that he would stay there.

  He spent most of the day on the bridge, making brief appearances only to visit the bath and galley. She watched the stars, seeing that the ship was now on a speedier flight, with how the galactic panorama moved. She found no answers there, and tried to read a book. It was a worthless attempt at preoccupation, since her mind would wander off. She dreaded yet anticipated when she would see him again. And when the moment arrived, she was reminded why she was eager, seeing his grand physique, but also why she was nervous, feeling his animosity. She was careful not to show her cowardice, though, or her internal struggle, or about how perplexing his presence was. Without a word he’d leave her, making her disappointed and confused, and wondering how she could withstand this emotional torture another moment.

  She took to her bed early, before he returned to torment her.

  The following day when Sarra woke from her fitful sleep, she was surprised to find the handcuff on her wrist. He was on his bunk, shrouded in the dim light, lying on his breast, his strong arms wrapped around his pillow and hi
s face turned away. She let her eyes slowly explore his broad, powerful shoulders, the masculine arch of his back, his magnificent backside that was so skimpily clad in a white undergarment. She remembered how she had touched him there in her dreams, and this brought a difficulty to her breathing. She was surprised when a groan escaped her.

  He stirred and she fell down and closed her eyes, desperately feigning sleep. He rose and took the handcuff off her wrist. The pulse at her nape beat furiously while he gently stroked her hair away from her brow, his fingertips lingering on her cheek. He watched her and she didn’t move. After what seemed an eternity, he went away, sighing. She stayed motionless until she was certain that he was gone, and then gasped for dear air.

  She heard him in the bath, showering and dressing, and when he left there she thought that she heard him go into the bridge. But, when she rose and entered the cabin, he was standing there, giving to her a soft and charming smile.

  “Mornin’,” he whispered, his voice like a caress.

  Without a peep she swept passed him. Within the bath she stumbled over to the vanity, moaning as she raised her gaze to the mirror, seeing herself in his awful gray nightshirt, certain that she looked at a stranger. Could this be she who trembled, fearing her emotion, her own self? Could this blue-eyed woman truly be so simple that a handsome face could take away her resolve and make her have wicked, forbidden thoughts?

  From the swift beat of her heart, she recalled her previous suspicion and knew that she must accept it as the truth.

  The man had cast a spell on her.