Claimed by the Warlord

by Maddie Taylor

  “How can I possibly sleep?”

  Darios released her, his long strides carrying him quickly from the room.

  “Wait!”

  Rushing forward, she caught up with him at the open door to his suite of rooms.

  “Please,” she beseeched him, his image watery as tears pooled in her eyes. “They are my people.” Then, in an appeal to his inner sense of decency that honored family and tradition, she added, “And like it or not, they are yours too.”

  He scowled, a sound of impatience rumbling up from his throat. “I don’t have time to debate that ridiculous notion further.” He squeezed her fingers which still gripped his forearm. “You will stay here,” he repeated, “where you are safe. I’ll have only my most trusted men posted as guards at your door.”

  “You think they would storm your citadel to retaliate against me?”

  “My people would gladly make the exchange to get our people back.”

  Angling her head back, she locked gazes with him. She also laid her hand along his stubbled jaw before speaking the words she’d give anything not to say but felt she must. “Perhaps that would be for the best.”

  His eyes blazed fire and he curled his hand around the back of her neck. “You say that after what we have shared, knowing we have an unparalleled connection, one you said you felt in your heart?” With firm pressure, he brought her up on tiptoe until her face was so close their breath mingled with his next words. “Was it all a lie?”

  “No,” she replied emphatically and without hesitation. With her hand on his chest, she dared to add, “If you couldn’t tell I spoke from my heart, my lord, you aren’t much of a truthsayer. But I don’t want war between our worlds. Too many have died in this conflict over a millennium. If I must do what is best to make it end, so be it.”

  As his anger flared hotly, his curt voice lashed out at her. “What’s best is to determine who is behind these abductions. What’s best is calm deliberation and intercession, not having an uninformed, impulsive hothead firing on a trading vessel carrying food and medical supplies. What’s best is for the fucking Aeldorians to stay out of our lives once and for all.”

  She gasped at his explosive response. The raw force of his hostility arced from his skin to hers like the jolt of electricity. She jerked her hand away, crying out in surprise at the first emotion she’d experienced from him through her gift of touch.

  “No,” he exclaimed, gathering her close, immediately contrite. “I didn’t mean you—never you.” When he took her lips the next instant in a passion-filled kiss, the sensation had passed. “We are not the aggressors here, and history proves we rarely are.”

  His frustration was palpable, and she didn’t want to worsen it, but had to ask, “History has many storytellers, my lord. What are you implying?”

  “There is no implication. It is fact. Starting with Atagan’s expulsion, we have always been unjustly provoked and placed on the defensive. But, as I’ve said, I don’t have time to debate it with you, not when lives hang in the balance.” His thumb brushed over her cheekbone then moved down to glide lightly across her lower lip. “I don’t want this for us, Aurelia, or before the gods, I don’t want war for our people. No good ever comes from it. But some force is driving our worlds to that point.”

  “Please, you must let me try to intervene.”

  “I must go.” He released her, and once again moved toward the door, ignoring her plea as if she hadn’t made it. “Sleep. You’ve had little of it, lately. Regardless, you will stay here, in my rooms, until I come for you or send word through Cogar. He is in charge in my stead and will protect you with his life. Understood?”

  Her patience finally snapped like a dry piece of kindling. “No, it’s not understood and Cogar’s protection is unnecessary because I’m going with you.”

  “The hell you are!” he growled. “You will obey me for once and stay put, where it is safe.”

  Grabbing his cloak from the back of the chair, without a misstep, he swirled the heavy material in an arc and draped it around his shoulders, like she knew he must have done hundreds of times before, as though he could do it in his sleep.

  Quietly, she said to his back, “If you wage war against my family, Darios, how will we ever get back to where we were yesterday?” Her hand swept out to encompass the room and the mussed bed where they had so recently joined in passion. “Or, how we were an hour ago? You might be the powerful Warlord of Voltarre who can command those around him with a glance, and summon fire and heat with a thought, but you can’t control a woman’s heart—not this woman.”

  Pausing with his hand on the latch, only his head swung toward her, his dark eyes glowing with angry determination. “You’re wrong, princess. We will go on regardless of what happens. You gave me your love, Aurelia of Aeldor, which makes you the warlord’s woman and, as such, bride of my heart, you will stand by my side.”

  “But, Darios,” she protested, with a stomp of one foot as her frustration level rose. “You can’t ask me to turn my back on my people, any more than I would ask you to do the same. How can I convince you this is what needs to be done?”

  “You cannot!” he roared. “Dammit, Aurelia, one of your people, very likely your brother, hired the Ophigs to murder you!”

  Striding back to her, the red material billowed out behind him in his haste, exposing his magnificent bronze body and the swirls and lines and images that were as much a work of art as could be captured by the finest artisan. Even utterly exasperated with him, she felt desire stir within her.

  His hands clasped her upper arms and pulled her up on her toes. His voice was only slightly less thunderous when he continued. “I will not allow you to go home, to the bosom of your treacherous family, not while I still have breath within me. You’ll stay here and wait for me, and when I get back, you’ll welcome me with open arms and spread thighs as you did last night and this morning.”

  “This isn’t about sex, Darios,” she announced snappishly, and with daring, into the face of his anger.

  A muscle jumped in his tightly clenched jaw as he stared down at her for several bounding heartbeats before he echoed her earlier response to him. “If you can’t tell last night and this morning were about more than sex, you’re not much of an intuitive.”

  It was a stupid thing to say, but in the heat of the moment, with anger and frustration at a rolling boil inside of her, it had come out. But his declaration, even while wrapped in sarcasm, deflated her somewhat. At any other time, she’d have melted at his feet. Instead, with her palms splayed flat on his chest, she modulated both her tone and her acerbity as she beseeched him. “Don’t you see you are asking the impossible of me? Of us? If you seek vengeance upon my family and my people, without them knowing the truth of what has happened here, how will I forgive you for that?”

  “You mean like they did to mine when they attacked the Avius and took the crew as hostages?”

  Measure for measure, he was right.

  “Oh, why does it have to be like this? The two of us at odds in a seemingly hopeless situation? How can this possibly work out between us?”

  He hauled her up on her toes at the same time his head came down and his lips claimed hers in a fierce, hungry kiss. She didn’t struggle, instead gave into him with all the passion inside her, afraid this would be the last time she could willingly submit if he followed through with his war plan.

  With whimpers rising from her throat, and her fingers digging into his massive shoulders, she clung to him as if she could prevent him from leaving, though she knew it was impossible.

  “Don’t condemn us before we’ve truly begun,” he whispered harshly when he raised his head. “Your heart may not forgive me if I proceed, and your mind and lips might insist for it to end, but your body will always be mine. Already you crave the warmth of my kisses and the heat of me driving into you, filling you with emotion—desire, passion, joy, fulfillment—and many other feelings you weren’t able to find in your shuttered, closed-off world.
”

  Despite the ferocity of their argument, he was tender when he stroked his thumb along her jaw.

  “You have a spark now, and I can’t bear the thought of you returning to a cold existence only to have it extinguished. As I go, I will carry your concerns with me. I give you my word I will do everything in my power to settle this without blood spilling, but I am Warlord, and have a duty to all my citizens, not only my newest, most reluctant one.”

  While she gazed up into his ruggedly handsome face, her hands rose to his neck, delighting in his warm, smooth, beautifully adorned skin, and she continued to speak true. “I would gladly surrender my heart, my mind, my lips, and my body to you, Darios, if you’ll only stay with me.”

  He dipped his head and took her lips, this time softly, his tongue slipping in to tenderly tangle with her own. “Would that I could. You speak of the impossible. Aeldor has taken aggression against Voltarre by capturing a ship with innocent men on board. Would you have me abandon my duty to them, for you?”

  “No,” she whispered bitterly then more loudly, “I hate this!”

  “As do I. We do not relish war, no matter what the rest of the galaxy may think, but we will fight to the death to protect what is ours. Something else I do not relish, being at odds with you, especially after just finding you. But I won’t leave my people in the hands of the enemy, not for a beautiful princess, or anyone. Now, I must go and make plans to get them back.”

  Tears pooled in her eyes as, with a final brush of his hand along her cheek and a last meaningful look, he took his leave.

  Chapter Thirteen

  WRINGING HER HANDS with every step, Aurelia paced the length of the bedchamber and back as she’d done a hundred times in the past few hours. At the door, she stopped, twisted the latch, and peeked out, despite knowing the outcome.

  A guard glanced up, another approaching from down the hall. Nothing had changed.

  “Is there something you need, Princess Aurelia?”

  This same question had been asked and answered before. She shook her head and shut herself in once more.

  Damn Darios and his glorious glowing eyes!

  He’d whispered wonderfully romantic words to her one moment then confined her to his chambers the next. On the premise of keeping her safe, so he’d claimed. Still, she felt more captive than honored guest, and certainly not the bride of his heart he’d called her last night.

  “Standard male lip service while in the throes of passion,” she muttered aloud as she leaned against the door and surveyed the luxury of her prison. It was a far cry from the cage of only a few days ago, but a prison all the same.

  Furious over his high-handedness, she resumed her pacing. What else could she do?

  Near the window, at the far end of the room, she kicked at a decorative urn in infuriation. It toppled over with a loud clang. Rather than easing her frustration, her actions left her feeling petty and spiteful.

  She quickly righted the vase then resumed her agitated march back and forth across the room. If she wore ruts in his fancy rug, so be it. She couldn’t sit still while war broke out, and always thought better on her feet. Although racking her brain for a way to stop what appeared to be inevitable was giving her more of a headache than solutions.

  At the sound of voices outside the door, she stopped then whirled when it swung inward. Despite the shadows created by the light streaming in from the hall, Aurelia could tell by the silhouette it was a woman.

  Disappointment swelled in her chest, and she went back to her pacing.

  “If you’ve brought food, take it away. I am not hungry.”

  “Good, because there is no time to eat. There is a ship waiting to take you home.”

  Stunned, Aurelia staggered to a halt. Had she heard correctly?

  Before Darios had stormed out, she thought she’d seen regret in his eyes. She’d assumed it stemmed from their argument and from locking her in their room under guard. Having a lover who was also your people’s sworn enemy wouldn’t go over well. Had the conflict looming with Aeldor changed his mind about her?

  She spun back around and inquired of the woman, “He’s sending me back?”

  “No. I am, but you must come with me, and quickly.” Her visitor took a step closer, and the light of the bedroom fell across her face.

  “Callae?” she exclaimed, completely stupefied. Aurelia raised trembling fingers to her temples and rubbed at the intensifying pain in her head while she tried to comprehend what was going on. “Why are you doing this? Won’t this be an act of betrayal bordering on treason?”

  “Possibly,” she replied, her expression grim. “In fact, I’m sure it is, but I’m sick and tired of this constant fighting. For as long as I can remember, we establish a truce, enjoy a brief respite from the fighting, then”—she clapped her hands—“like that, some hothead on either side says something incendiary or does something incredibly stupid and we’re at war again.” The other woman laid her hands on her rounded belly, a wistful expression on her face. “I won’t have my child grow up in fear the way I did, or raise a son only for him to die in a meaningless battle. Or watch as my daughter is left behind to wait and worry while her father, or husband, or, one day, a child of her own, goes through the same torment all the women of Voltarre have endured for far too long.”

  “I understand, believe me, but I can’t let you do this. You’ll be punished. We’ll have to think of another way.”

  “There is no other way. Right now, your people believe we took you, and my people see only their knee-jerk response. You are the answer, Princess. You have captured the warlord’s heart. He has vowed to protect you from this unknown perpetrator, but his negotiations will not succeed without you. His words will be met with suspicion. From all accounts, your father loves you very much. You are the only one who can convince him we were not behind this.” Callae surprised her further by dropping to her knees. “I beg of you, Your Highness, help us find a way back to peace.”

  She rushed forward, her hands extended. “Please, rise.” Once she’d helped her to her feet, Aurelia resumed her pacing, this time with her fingers threading through her hair in agitation. “I need to think,” she muttered, her head pounding now.

  “There isn’t time. The window to escape is quite narrow.”

  With the weight of both worlds and so many lives resting on her shoulders, she reluctantly nodded. “I’ll go to prevent more war, but I worry about you.”

  “Daryk will be furious, but he wouldn’t harm me. And I’ll be safe from civil punishment while I carry my child.”

  “They wouldn’t—” she choked, unable to finish the horrific thought.

  “Treason is a capital crime, but Daryk won’t allow such an extreme, although I can’t imagine the alternatives will be much better.”

  “What? Imprisonment? Physical punishment? Will they whip you in the town square before the entire population?”

  Callae gaped at her. “More farfetched suppositions. Where did you get these ideas?”

  “We’ve been at war a long time. Things get back to us.”

  “Rumors and conjecture, the same as what has led us to this impasse. We have jails, but they sit half empty, and the inmates are all men. Women are given to their husbands or fathers to deal with.”

  Aurelia stopped in her tracks. “Deal with...what does that mean? Are you saying Daryk will...beat you?”

  “No!” she exclaimed, truly horrified. “Is that what you would experience in your world?”

  “Of course not, but we’ve heard, um, stories.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Overblown, salacious tales fueled by people who don’t know us. They take one look at our men and believe them primitive brutes who speak in monosyllabic sentences and run around clouting women they desire on the head and dragging them off to their caves. Honestly,” she snorted in disgust. “You’ve been with Darios for days now. Has he hurt you, or even hinted he’d raise a fist to you?”

  Her cheeks flushed hotly as she thought
of when he’d smacked her bottom sharply when she’d clawed at his back, thrown ice shards at him, and run away like an irrational child and turned the grand corridor into a glacial tunnel.

  She wouldn’t call any of them beatings, the sting and warmth had faded in no time. Her pride had been stung more than anything, and her body had become drenched with desire. And what had come after, the tender caresses, the kisses, and when he’d taken her against the wall, after she’d begged him to. None seemed like punishments when she thought back upon them now.

  Callae waved her hand dismissively. “The color in your face gives you away. I’m not referring to a trifling thing like a spanking.”

  “You mean Daryk has—”

  “Of course. Most feel it is their duty to correct a misbehaving wife’s behavior with a sound spanking, now and then, but beatings... Goodness gracious. I haven’t met a Voltarrean man who would ever take his fists to a woman! That’s barbaric! In fact, it’s considered a criminal act here. Oh sure, our men are dominant, and the gods know they like to lecture, and feel they must put their foot down over something on a daily basis, not that we pay much attention, or I wouldn’t be standing here. But they are first and foremost loving, devoted, protective family men who are also loyal to their overlord and Voltarre.”

  “I suppose I need to be more selective in my reading.”

  “Yes, maybe stick with nonfiction,” Callie suggested drolly.

  She would have smiled if the situation weren’t so grim.

  “What punishment could you expect?”

  Callae looked away, her arms wrapped around her belly. “Exile to one of the volcanic regions.”

  On a sharply indrawn breath, Aurelia stated, “I’d rather take the beating.”

  She huffed a humorless laugh. “I’d be happy with a sound spanking, believe me, but I don’t think Daryk would be so cruel as to consign the mother of his child to the ends of Voltarre. More likely, I’ll be confined in one of the many towers within the citadel, under guard. He will be incensed on Darios’ behalf. My husband is very loyal. I just hope one day he will understand why I felt the need to act, and be able to forgive me.”