The Dark Prince's Prize (Curizan Warrior Book 2)

by S. E. Smith

  “I wonder if he hires out?” she mused as she slammed the door and locked it.

  Her footsteps held a bit more bounce as she thought about Adalard. Her excitement had nothing to do with the kisses they shared and more to do with his chivalry. It felt good to know that maybe she had someone her brothers couldn’t intimidate to cover her back. She had nothing against Bear or some of the other guys she knew, but they had all wilted like last week’s lettuce at one time or another around her clan.

  “It’s about time you got home,” Rob growled from the porch.

  She ignored him. He reached out and gripped her arm. When she didn’t react, he squeezed harder. She knew she would be left with an impressive bruise.

  “Remove your hand,” she ordered in a slow, measured tone.

  “Where’s the money?” he demanded.

  She gripped her captured arm, stepped into Rob, and yanked down and back, breaking his hold at the weakest point where the thumb and fingers met, just like Mason had shown her how to do. She reached out and pulled open the screen door and stepped through the partially opened door. Three sets of eyes followed her as she entered the living room.

  Are you in danger?

  She barely hid her shock. Pulling her hat off, she partially hid behind it as she crossed the room into the kitchen. Behind her, Gary was anxiously asking Rob about the money. She quickly took the narrow staircase up to her bedroom in the attic.

  How can you do this? she demanded.

  It… is complicated. Are you in danger? I felt your pain, he demanded.

  Samara tripped on the last step going up. Her hand hit her bedroom door, and it swung open. A long string of heated curses swept through her mind when she saw the state of her room. She could almost visualize Adalard’s wince at the furious heat behind them.

  I gotta go, she growled.

  Somehow, she was able to shove Adalard out of her head. She wasn’t sure how, but at the moment, it was probably best if he couldn’t ‘see’ what she was thinking. Murder and cheerfully dancing around a bonfire came to mind as she surveyed the wreckage of her normally orderly bedroom. She stepped inside, feeling both angry and violated.

  “I’m sorry, Samara. I tried to stop them,” Brit quietly said behind her.

  Chapter Twelve

  Samara ignored Jerry the next morning as she placed the last box containing her personal belongings into the back of her truck. The others had either given up on trying to antagonize her into giving in to their demands or had left for work. For some reason, only Jerry seemed determined to continue their futile battle.

  “You need to stay away from Paul Grove’s ranch,” he suddenly stated.

  “That’s not happening,” she replied.

  Jerry looked over his shoulder at the closed front door before he jumped off the front porch and stood next to her. She continued to ignore him. Lifting the tailgate, she made sure it was secure. A sharp hiss slipped from her when Jerry grabbed her arm. She yanked it free.

  “What do you know about that guy that was with you yesterday?” he demanded.

  She shrugged. “It really isn’t any of my business,” she retorted, walking around the truck to the driver’s side.

  “Damn it, Samara. You can’t fucking lie to me. I know how much money you have, and I know that bastard isn’t who he says he is,” Jerry snapped.

  She opened the driver’s door and glared at her brother. “Your sudden concern for my wellbeing is touching,” she sarcastically replied with a pseudo sweet smile that didn’t reach her eyes, “but I’m just not sensing the sincerity.”

  Jerry shoved her. She stumbled back against the open door, her eyes widening in wary alarm when he raised his fist. She was already sporting some bruises that she would have to hide. It would be a bit more difficult to pass off a black eye or busted lip.

  Suddenly, Jerry was lifted off his feet and tossed through the air back onto the porch. She gasped, and with her mouth hanging open, stared at the back of a black leather jacket. There was a glowing sword in Adalard Ha’darra’s hand. She instinctively reached out and grabbed his wrist in alarm, her attention on the front door.

  “Put that thing away,” she frantically ordered.

  The sound of footsteps against the wood floor warned her that Rob and Gary were coming. She hastily stepped in front of Adalard as the door opened. A quick glance down verified the sword was gone.

  “What the hell? What happened to you?” Rob demanded, looking down at Jerry.

  “He slipped on an icy patch and fell,” Samara said before Jerry could answer.

  “Ouch, you okay, man?” Gary asked, holding out his hand to Jerry.

  Jerry pursed his lips and nodded. He kept his wary gaze focused on Adalard. Gary lowered his eyes and muttered something incoherently before he turned and retreated into the house. Jerry pushed past a confused Rob.

  “Who the hell are you?” Rob demanded.

  “He’s one of the survival guys from Mr. Grove’s ranch. I promised to give him a lift this morning. I’ve got to go, or we’ll be late,” she said.

  Samara turned and nudged Adalard toward the truck. His focus was still locked on the door where Jerry had disappeared. She swore the temperature dropped another two degrees just from his icy glare.

  “We’re not finished,” Rob called.

  She ignored her brother and motioned for Adalard to get in the truck. He turned and strode around the front. Only when he slid in beside her did she release the breath she was holding. She shut her door, started the truck, shifted it into gear, and drove away.

  “Damn it,” she muttered when the seat belt warning rang out.

  She pressed the brake and clipped it in. Adalard did the same. She glanced at his taut face. She chuckled and shook her head when she saw the twitch above his left eye.

  “What do you find amusing?” he inquired.

  “You’ve got the Lee-Stephens twitch going,” she answered.

  “What is that?” he finally asked.

  She gave him a sympathetic grin. “It’s what happens when anyone is around my brothers for more than a few hours,” she informed him with an inelegant snort.

  He grimaced and rubbed his temple. “Arrow causes the same thing to happen,” he muttered.

  “Arrow?” she repeated with a raised eyebrow before she pulled out onto the highway.

  “My brother,” he answered.

  “Oh.” Samara didn’t know why she never thought that he could have a family. “So, back at the house… where did you come from?”

  He was silent long enough to make her curious. She glanced at him. He was moodily staring out of the window. As the silence grew, she wondered if he heard her. She was about to rephrase the question when he spoke.

  “I teleported from the ranch,” he replied in a low voice.

  The truck veered onto the shoulder of the road when she turned and looked at him. She carefully maneuvered it back onto the pavement. She was gripping the steering wheel so tightly that her fingers were beginning to hurt.

  “You… teleported. Are you saying you just popped up next to my truck out of thin air?” she demanded in a hoarse voice.

  He released a loud sigh. “Yes,” he answered in a brusque tone.

  Samara warily glanced at Adalard again. “You don’t sound happy about that,” she observed.

  “I’ve never traveled this far before. My teleportation skills were only recently discovered. My brother, Ha’ven, was the first to conquer the ability. Arrow believes it is a latent ability that we just never explored before. At first, he thought it manifested itself when we met our mate, but we ruled that out when we realized I could do it, too—before I met you. However, Arrow is still working on his theories. The only other way we move from one place to another is through a transporter,” he explained.

  She silently sorted through each part of his explanation. It wasn’t easy since her mind kept going back to the word ‘mate.’ Was he alluding to her being his mate? Even though she could see the colors
swirling around him and hear his voice in her head, it didn’t mean she was a bitch in heat.

  “Define ‘mate,’ because I’m not sure your definition and ours is translating correctly,” she requested.

  He frowned as he turned in his seat and looked at her. “Mate—as in you are the woman for me, and I am the man for you. We are compatible. Our auras have connected in a way that only soul mates can. You are my balance,” he quietly explained.

  The snort of amusement slipped from her before she could stifle it. She tried to cover it with a cough, but from the scowl of disapproval on his face, he wasn’t buying it. At least his definition was more… romantic than her first thought.

  “You think that I’m your mate because of some cosmic light show?” she skeptically asked with an amused grin.

  “Yes,” he tersely replied.

  She shook her head. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, lover boy, but I have plans, and they don’t include chasing wild colors across the galaxy with an alien—no matter how sexy you think you might be. I’ve had enough of testosterone driven males for a while,” she confessed before giving him an apologetic smile and continuing, “I’m afraid you’ll have to find another girl looking for an out-of-this-world-adventure. I’m keeping my size sevens here on Earth.”

  “Where do you want this?” Adalard asked, holding up a small table.

  Samara looked up. She giggled when she saw the cobwebs stuck to his dark hair and a smudge of dirt along his jaw. A surge of warmth swept through her, and she looked away.

  “In front of the window. I think adding the two chairs on either side would look nice. Thank you again for helping me with this. It would have taken me days to do half of what we’ve been able to do in a couple of hours,” she said.

  “I don’t mind,” he replied, placing the table in the spot she recommended.

  She shook her head. “I’m sure you didn’t come halfway across the universe with plans of moving furniture,” she teased.

  “No. My plan was to bed as many human women as I could,” he replied before an expression of dismay crossed his face. “I should probably not have shared that with you.”

  “Uh… no. You probably shouldn’t have told me that,” she dryly retorted.

  He wiped his hands together and looked at her with a sheepish expression. “I have never had a situation where I found it impossible to lie to someone. It is as if you hold some power over me,” he mused.

  “I’m not sure how much of a compliment that is,” she said before she shook her head and continued, “So, you came all this way to screw human women. Don’t you have women where you’re from?”

  He scoffed. “Of course there are women where I’m from. Some of the most beautiful women in the universe are from Ceran-Pax, Valdier, and Sarafin. There are many other species as well, but I digress. I didn’t come just to enjoy the company of human women. We are on a mission. My brother, Ha’ven, and his human mate, Emma, have come to retrieve her mother,” he stated.

  “You have another brother?” she asked with a frown.

  “Yes. Ha’ven is the eldest,” he explained.

  “And… he’s married—I mean mated—to a human named Emma,” she clarified.

  He nodded. “Yes. Emma saved his life.”

  Samara gaped at Adalard in surprise, but she didn’t ask any more questions. She was still trying to absorb his comment about coming to Earth just to get laid. She was surprised by the intense feeling of disappointment coursing through her.

  Why should I think alien guys were any different than human ones? she thought.

  “Well, you might find some willing women at Cattleman’s Bar and Grill who might be interested in taking you up on your fantasy ride. I can finish setting things up here. Ann Marie gave me some clean linens and towels. I need to wipe everything down, but I have to finish my chores outside first,” she said, turning away.

  “I’ve hurt you,” he said.

  She stiffened when he touched her arm. “No, you haven’t hurt me. You just reminded me that guys are all alike—no matter where they come from,” she replied before she cleared her throat and continued, “Once I get things finished here, I’ll make you a meal as payment.”

  “Tonight?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Not tonight. I… have a prior engagement. Besides, I don’t have any food. Let’s plan on tomorrow night. I have tomorrow off and should be able to finish things up,” she suggested.

  “I will help you,” he offered.

  “I’m sure you have more important things to do than help me while you’re here.” She uttered a strained laugh and shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m saying this. There are a million and one other questions I should be asking you, but….”

  He slid his fingers up her arm and gently turned her to face him. She looked up at him. All the strange feelings she had experienced since she met him came crashing over her again. She absently reached up and pulled the cobweb out of his hair before rubbing at the smudge of dirt on his chin with her thumb.

  He gasped at her tender touch. The colors that seemed to be ever present between them swirled from the pad of her thumb. Warmth, and a sense of curiosity, flooded her as her gaze moved to his lips.

  Cursing her own impulsiveness, she threw caution to the wind, slid her hand around his nape, and pulled his head down, capturing his lips with hers. She had kissed her share of guys but never with such a physical intensity as this.

  A low, muffled moan slipped from her, and she closed her eyes and parted her lips. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his hard body. She tangled her fingers in his hair and gripped his shirt with her other hand.

  Samara entwined her tongue with Adalard’s, their breaths accelerating as their passion grew until she swore their hearts beat as one. A tingling sensation spread through her body. She didn’t know if it was from lack of oxygen or some strange alien mojo, but it was enough to trigger her self-preservation alarm.

  She broke the kiss, opened her eyes, and stared up at him with a wary expression. His pupils glowed as did a ring of darker violet around the irises. She could literally see thin bands of energy swirling in the depths.

  He opened his mouth to speak, only to close it when a knock at the door drew their attention. She pulled free and smoothed back her hair with shaking hands, wiggling her nose when she realized they were trembling.

  “Samara, are you in here?” a deep, familiar voice called out.

  “Yeah, I’m here,” she answered. She cleared her throat and spoke again, “I’m coming. I’m in the bedroom.”

  She grimaced when she realized what she’d just said. Adalard’s amused snort told her that he had picked up on her twist of words. She gave him a heated glare, took a deep, steadying breath, and straightened her shoulders before she stepped out of the door into the living room.

  The loft apartment wasn’t huge. The apartment was comprised of two bedrooms, one bathroom, and an open floor plan with the kitchen, dinette, and living room all in one. In the corner, a large pellet stove sat on a platform made of rock. One of the things she loved about the apartment was the huge row of windows that overlooked the forest and mountains beyond.

  “Hey, Bear. What are you doing here?” she asked.

  Bear’s eyes widened when he saw Adalard appear behind her. “Mason said you were moving in, and I had some time, so I thought I’d see if you needed any help,” he replied, pulling his attention back to her.

  She forced a smile on her lips and shook her head. “I’ve got this. Adalard gave me a hand. I was going to call it quits for a bit and head up to the barn to check on the horses,” she said.

  “Oh, okay. I guess if you’re staying here now, I’ll pick you up here instead of at your old place,” Bear replied.

  “I… yeah, that would be great,” she said with a strained smile.

  Bear shifted from one foot to the other, glancing curiously at Adalard. She imagined that Adalard was starting to put two and two together. From
the growing pressure she was sensing in her head, he was attempting to talk to her in his strange, alien way.

  “Well, I guess if we want to keep our jobs we’d better get to work,” she suggested with a wave of her hand at the door.

  Bear blinked as if coming out of a daze and nodded. “Yeah, I’ll see you later this evening,” he replied before nodding at Adalard. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

  At the door, Samara gave Bear a wave and watched him descend the stairs. Once he disappeared around the corner, she closed the door and turned around. She gasped when Adalard placed his hands on the door just above her shoulders. His violet eyes were glowing again.

  “You are meeting him later?” he asked with a slight growl in his voice.

  She pushed against his chest and slipped under his arm. “Yes,” she stated, not elaborating.

  “It is for work?” he demanded.

  “No,” she replied, taking her jacket off the hook by the door and pulling it on. “We are going out for dinner and a drink.”

  “Samara,” he began.

  She turned and glared at him. “Don’t go all testosterone fueled on me, Adalard. I’ve already had enough to last me a lifetime, so I would advise you to be very careful about what you say or do next. Alien or not, I won’t hesitate to kick your ass out of here,” she threatened.

  He raised one eyebrow at her, and the corners of his lips twitched. Raising his hands in the air, he stepped back, giving her space. She eyed him with suspicion.

  “I apologize,” he quietly responded.

  She warily studied him. He didn’t look remorseful. In fact, she would swear he had a calculating gleam in his eyes that reminded her of Wilson. God, she missed him. He was the only one of her brothers who had a decent head on his shoulders.

  “Okay. I’ve got to get my chores done. Do you need anything before I leave?” she asked.

  “Only this.”

  She parted her lips when he stepped forward. He paused, the wicked gleam shining in his eyes, before he slid his hands up her arms. She gave him a bemused look before she slid her hands over his chest, and rose to meet him.