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

by Lorelei Orion

Standing a few paces away, he pointed the gun at her breast and stared down threateningly. “Enough games. What’s the access?”

  Sarra lifted her nose and gave to him her profile.

  “I’m getting angry,” he warned.

  She remained silent, her blue eyes turning to ridicule him.

  “Tell me!” he demanded.

  “Never!” she vowed.

  “I can make you.”

  Although intimidated, Sarra was amazed how just last night he had made love to her like she was his beloved, and now they were enemies again. “If you harm me, you could run even as far as the Andromeda Galaxy but they would find you. And kill you.”

  He laughed, amused. “Think rather highly of yourself, don’t you? You have good reason. But, there’s no need to harm you, Princess. I could find the code with a computer search, but that would take a great deal of time—something we don’t have—and it would be rather dull. No, I have a better way.”

  Sarra shrieked while he hoisted her up onto his shoulder. She pounded her fists on his back, but he succeeding in depositing her on the nook’s bed. He kept his weapon aimed at her as he opened his travel bag there on the lounge, returning to stop her scrambling attempt at escape. She was horrified when he handcuffed her wrist to the bed.

  “Just like old times,” he quipped.

  Meaningfully, he arched a brow and strode away. Sarra clawed at her shackle, her hysteria rising. She held her breath when she heard him moving around in the galley. He hadn’t found the sto, but this gave her little relief, for he returned holding a knife—a very sharp-looking knife.

  He doffed his mosaic coat and tossed it aside. Dressed all in black, he was a foreboding sight, looming at the foot of the bed, his eyes considering the long blade. She paled. She didn’t know this man, at all …

  There was no emotion on his face while he rested his gaze on hers. His indifference made a cold pit of fear spread out within her belly. She swallowed rapidly …

  “I need to know,” he urged quietly.

  “No!” she protested, her voice cracking.

  She shut her eyes tightly, bracing herself. He began cutting into her dress. She had pushed him too far—his barbaric nature was raging within him. She went limp, nearly fainting when her dress was in black shreds around her, and he pulled off her pelt boots, leaving her naked and defenseless.

  He sighed, tossing the knife aside. “You know I won’t hurt you, Princess.”

  He bent and kissed her lips, gently.

  Sarra came back to life. She knew what he planned—he would take her to the far heights of desire but never release her passion until she succumbed to his demands. Her outrage overwhelmed her and she struggled wildly, striking him with her free hand, kicking him. He simply straddled her, pinning her down.

  “You smut!” she choked out.

  He kissed her, again. She fought vainly to evade him, but his shrewd, fiery tongue kept patiently meeting hers. She hadn’t braced herself for pleasure, and her defenses were becoming lost. Weighted down by her dizziness, she fell back against the pillow. His fervor grew brutal, overpowering her, making her respond to his will.

  Chuckling coldly, he drew away, taking the pins from her hair and drawing the golden, satiny waves down upon her. As he stepped back to appreciate her, she tugged on the shackle, trying not to lose her resolve. She knew that she shouldn’t, but she had to look while he doffed his shirt and leggings, revealing his magnificent physique. He was sorely affected by her nakedness, and when he was above her again, she felt confident that she would win the test of time.

  “Surrender, Princess, and we’ll make love,” he wooed.

  “Free me … I want to take you,” she murmured huskily, with an image of the sto in her head.

  Without comment, he began massaging her nape, using gentle caresses to ease away her tension, knowing that she couldn’t help but yield whenever he did this to her. She squirmed valiantly, needing to escape him while he worked her shoulders, down her arms. When he reached the hand that he had kicked in his trickery, she winced. He saw the bruise coming there and took her palm tenderly to his lips.

  “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

  Sarra was amazed. “You can apologize for this after all that you’ve done to me?”

  “Please. Tell me your code and I’l1 set course for Adriel. Do you really believe that you can keep on fighting me?”

  “Yes!”

  He dropped her hand. “All right. But you’re not going to like this, woman. You will tell me—no one is here to save you.”

  “They’ll come,” she said, even as she wondered what was taking the embassy so long.

  “Only the rebels heard you,” he replied, though he wondered if the FAS had. If so, wouldn’t they have attempted to capture him by now? He really didn’t want to get in a hostage situation—damn her! Why did she always have to make everything so complicated! But, making her talk was one challenge he was more than eager for …

  Sarra tried not to feel, knowing what was to come. She kept her eyes tightly closed while he tested the softness of her hair, his hands grazing her skin, traveling down to her hips. They stayed near there, caressing her flat waist, and then slowly moved up, resting to check the quick beat of her heart. A sweat broke out all over her, exposing his effects.

  His searing tongue lightly savored her full, trembling lips, gliding lower to bathe the swell of her breasts, leaving their tautness behind to explore her waist, her legs, traveling slowly down to her toes. Her pulse beat wildly while he deliberately retraced his path, and she helplessly spread her thighs, but he slid his hands under her bottom and teased her, wickedly sampling her sweetness only for instants at a time. A sharp gasp escaped her as he pressed his breast to her womanliness. He finally reached up to take the hard, rosy peaks of her breasts between his fingertips, twisting them calculating1y until they were swollen and tight.

  He came up to torture her, avidly using his mouth and teeth to bring the points up to their fullest measure. She rolled her head back and forth upon the pillow, denying it—she’d soon be unable to withstand the ache.

  He straightened and brushed her tresses aside, and she dared not open her eyes, feeling the heat of his lusty stare. His palms moved on her again, ardent and knowing, and her excruciating frustration and panic made her struggle beneath him, powerless against his strength.

  “Just say the word,” he demanded, hoarsely.

  Desperately, Sarra wantonly pitched her hips against him to quicken his need. His breathing was as jagged as hers and it wouldn’t be long now …

  He groaned, brokenly. “Tell me!”

  “No!” she cried.

  He sighed. “You know that there are other ways for me, Princess.”

  Sarra cringed. He pressed her breasts together and began using their firmness for his intimate pleasure, shutting his heavy-lidded green eyes, becoming lost in the sensations. Dismayed and hypnotized, she watched his expressions. This wasn’t the first time that he had done this to her, but she had been willing before—this filled her with outrage, yet strangely, she had no will to fight. She had never wanted—or hated—him more. Ecstasy struck his face, and the wetness hit her breast. She couldn’t share in the moment, feeling faint from the agony within her.

  He fell down onto his back, laying his arm over his eyes, trying to catch his breath.

  “You’re a smut,” she whispered, but it sounded like an endearment even to her own ears.

  “Yes. A smut.”

  He rose and left the nook, and a tear slid down her cheek. She yanked forcefully at the handcuff but only hurt her wrist. He returned with a small basin of water and sat down beside her. He proceeded to wash her, and she gritted her teeth.

  “You’re hot,” he uttered. “Feverish.”

  Leisurely, he slid the grainy sponge across her flushed skin, inundating every curve. He squeezed and trickled the cool water upon her, wetting her womanhood, and she involuntarily welcomed the rush.

  “Stop it!” sh
e pleaded weakly.

  “Stop being stubborn,” he said with an assault of droplets.

  Sarra took the first logical lie that came to mind. “All right! It’s ‘Planet Kan’! The password is ‘Planet Kan’!”

  She hoped that he would end this here and now. Instead, he dressed and went off to check his suspicions. Appalled, she began to shake, fearing that there was no way out. He came back, wrathful.

  “Tell me the truth!” he growled out.

  “Go to hell!” she cried.

  He kept his temper and came down upon her, not even bothering to undress. “I know your limit, woman. You are beyond it,” he mocked, running his lips across her breasts. “Why must you torment yourself so?”

  She couldn’t control her whimpering while he flicked his tongue on the straining tips.

  “I taught you too well. You love lust too much.”

  “No!”

  “Then, cooperate.”

  Sarra was beginning to wish that he would use the knife on her and be done with her. Her resolve was slipping away, making it more and more difficult to remember why she couldn’t give him the code. As if knowing her thoughts, he said, “I told you that the embassy is under rebel control. No one will rescue you—use your head! Wouldn’t the FAS have blasted open the doors an hour ago if they knew that you were here?”

  “I hate you!” she choked, accepting the truth.

  Her resistance now was simply a matter of pride. She writhed about, caught in the intensity of his sexual manipulation, but he was calm and confident about the outcome of this battle. She strove to guide him to her, but he was merciless, denying her, pushing her free hand away while his hand roved everywhere but the place that needed to be touched. He rested his fingers on her soft triangle, but wouldn’t give them motion.

  “Please!” she begged despondently.

  “Come,” he wheedled. “I want you, Sarra.”

  Sarra felt like a warm and gentle lightning bolt struck her. This was the very first time that he had said her given name. The word was like a caress, a promise. It gathered up her senses and swept them off into his magnetic eyes—her will had become his. She wasn’t her own, anymore.

  “I won,” she whispered.

  “What?”

  “The code. I won.”

  He left. She let her tears fall, but soon the emotion just quit, leaving her numb. When the ship started moving, she didn’t care. What seemed eons later, he was bare and above her again.

  Raine was remorseful but didn’t take the time to dwell on it. He freed her from the handcuff and was concerned when her arm fell so limply onto his back. Briefly, he feared that he had broken the spirit of one so proud. But, when her hands began to caress him, he relaxed and kissed her, long and deep, marveling about all the wondrous feelings that only she could provoke. He drew away and pressed his lips devotedly on her fragile cheek, hoping she would understand his apology.

  He intended to be gentle, to make her defeat easier for her to bear, but as he met her, she abandoned herself to her passion, a violent, bucking tempest that knocked the breath from him again and again. Their hoarse cries mingled, his desire growing nearly beyond his control, but he fought to keep the moment …

  Sarra surrendered to the brilliant force that lit her eyelids, to the brutal waves that coursed exquisitely within her, consuming her until her spirit was blessedly free, once more …

  Raine wanted to stay with her, but she twisted beneath him. He longed to hold her while she wept; she kicked herself out of his hold. He rose, seeing how her livid, slender back quaked in her despair. His throat tightened and he turned away from the disturbing sight, leaving the nook to give her time alone to mend her wounds.

  Perhaps, it was his anticipation of a night of tender lovemaking that made him forget about his suspicion of a missing sto. After double-checking the helm’s automated controls, he returned to her, expecting to find her in the bed, all meek and mournful and in need of comfort. Instead, he met her icy-cold, vengeful blue eyes.

  He caught a glimpse of the blue laser stream coming toward him and was certain that it meant his death. His last thought screamed at him about how hard the floor was upon his cheekbone.

  Chapter 18

  Sarra reveled in her victory. Her will had been tested and she had lost, but she had redeemed herself. Her rage and humiliation had been so great that she had planned to slay him—had taken the hidden sto out of the galley bin and readied it to kill. She reconsidered and put the laser back on the stun setting. He would be her prize—she had made him a prisoner!

  It took all of her strength to heist her victim’s tall, bare and limp physique onto the bunk. She found the handcuff’s remote and secured him there, and used a shred of her black dress to tie his other wrist—just in case. She tossed a blanket over his nakedness, and when she saw the bruise—the result of his fall—coming on his cheek, she wondered about how she could feel guilty, for the fact that he still breathed brought an odd mixture of frustrating emotions.

  When on the bridge, Sarra discovered that he hadn’t lied—the ship was on course for Adriel. Finally, she could do what she had hoped to do since her abduction. She sent a message out to her father.

  Wondering what she could wear, since he had destroyed her dress, she searched through his travel bag on the lounge. Within it was a few of his garments, and a feminine gown and lingerie. A frown drew her brows, her ire rising.

  To whom would he bestow these gifts? Who was she? Was she tall or short, blond, dark or a redhead? Did the woman meekly await his return or would she spitefully punish him when again in his arms?

  “And, why do I hate her?” she gritted out.

  Sarra controlled her anger while she slipped into the red, long and sleek gown. Although it fit her rather well, she felt certain that it was intended for another or he would have given it to her before. Such raiment would have cost him dearly. The material, delicate and fibrous crystals, comes from Kan’s mountainous regions and is difficult to cultivate, thus being exclusive only to the rich. It was strange how the planet’s frigid soil could grow such loveliness. The dress, made from hundreds of crystals, reflected light like a crimson mirror.

  She would wear it, having no other. Soon enough, she would learn whom it was meant for.

  She went to the nook to tidy it, to clear away the remnants of his destruction, wanting the moment of his awakening to be perfect.

  ***

  Raine roused, guessing that he still lived since he felt pain. He ignored the throbbing in his head and cheek and braved the light, lifting his heavy eyelids. He was on his back on a bunk, his arms spread out above him with his wrists handcuffed and tied to the cables. Suddenly feeling defenseless, he yanked forcefully on the ties.

  “Well, well, alias Raine Nicks. We shall soon learn who you really are.”

  He made certain that his fury was on his face when he finally looked at her. His breath caught. The princess sat within the chair in the main cabin, mocking him with her brilliant, dark-blue eyes. She wore the red gown—the one from his travel bag—seeming like she was aflame. Her golden hair spilled about her, and she was at ease with one leg curled up beneath her, the other bent and showing a tempting calf and foot. She dangled her arm over her knee, and in her hand was his weapon. Slowly, she glanced back and forth from the M-5 to him, and each time she met his gaze she was a bit more pleased with herself.

  Smugly, she asked, “Or, would you like to give me your confessions now?”

  Raine suppressed an infuriated sound and turned away from her stunning beauty. Truly, the woman was incorrigible.

  She laughed smoothly, but he didn’t acknowledge her, even when she came to stand before him, filling his nose with her unique blue rose scent.

  “Defiant, still? Will you be as silent before your executioner?”

  “Execution, is it?” he rasped.

  “Perhaps. Or maybe I will lock you up in a cage for the rest of your life. I’m not sure which will do my heart best. I can’t d
ecide,” she considered, as lightly as if she debated about what to wear for a day. “I could keep you in a cage until I decide the date of your execution. Ah—either way you’ll find out soon enough. You’ll have a grand reception on Adriel. My father knows I’m coming. I sent him a message.”

  “You did,” he said, flatly.

  “I did.”

  Raine’s mind raced—he knew that he was in trouble. “Do you know how to pilot a ship? It takes skill and training … Set me free, or you may never see home again.”

  She began to amble about. “I have the skill and I practically have trained myself. I will see my palace. And what a glorious reunion it will be! The princess royal—abducted, ravished and humiliated—returning home triumphant. With a prize! Once a ferocious savage that struck fear in a nation, now a meek little coward.”

  “The princess talks mighty bold with a gun in her hand.”

  “And why not? I finally have you where I want you. How the roles can change—you won’t even look at me! Perhaps you can’t bear the sight of the woman who has bested you?”

  Raine took the challenge. She was at the foot of the bed, standing akimbo. She raised a golden eyebrow and airily tossed back her hair, and on her crimson lips was a chilling smile, one so out of place on such a beautiful face.

  “See,” she taunted. “See the one who has conquered you.”

  His eyes widened as she seductively ran the weapon down the front of the luminous, flame-hued dress, stopping at the hip. Her décolleté threatened to spill her full breasts free, putting him in a dangerous position. His desire stirred, even while she pointed the M-5 at him.

  “So, what’s it like to be afraid?” she asked, closing one eye and aiming at his breast.

  “My greatest fear is the loveliness of my captor. Come to me,” he crooned.

  She laughed softly. “Never! Fear me in your dreams!”

  Raine clenched his fists while she moved for the bridge’s door. Before disappearing beyond it, she added insult to his injury by blowing him a saucy kiss.

  Sarra tossed the gun carelessly onto the command chair. She stalked to and fro around the bridge, miffed at him for showing no cowardice. There had been contempt and lust in his expressions, but not the tiniest trace of worry. What would it take to make him admit defeat?