by Alison Aimes
“I’ll come too.” Lady Everly’s intonation turned mocking. “I wouldn’t dream of rudely leaving you by yourself.”
The women’s voices faded, swallowed by the turns of the garden path.
The ensuing silence seemed heavier and more fragile. It was impossible to miss the barely laced tension simmering in the male at her side. He was angry once more. Did he sense her own turmoil? Or was something else bothering him? She had no idea exactly how this Martian heat worked, but she did know she’d only compounded her transgressions against him by being with him under false pretenses.
And yet she wasn’t sure how to fix it.
He spoke before she could. “You need to go.”
Taken off guard, she staggered back a step. “Excuse me?”
He followed after her, looming above, his expression hard. “You shouldn’t be out here. It’s too dangerous. I vowed to take care of you,” he plowed a hand through his hair, the gold band on his finger flashing before it was buried in his dark locks, “and nearly getting caught with my hands up your skirt is not the way to do that.”
His protectiveness warmed her. “I’m as responsible for that choice as you.”
“All I want right now is to drag you deeper into this garden and do all of that again. And more.”
Heat burned through her.
He shook his head. “Don’t look at me like that.” His big hands clenched by his sides, a muscle working in his jaw. “You need to go. This isn’t the time or place. And…and I can feel your regret. Your discomfort.”
Shock hit hard. “Th-that’s not because of what we just did. I-I…” Oh, Goddess, how did she explain without giving it all away? She’d made such a mess of everything. Maybe, though, there was one way she could atone. “Do…do you know who wrote the letter sent to the judge naming you as thief and murderer?”
His eyes narrowed, her sudden shift in topic clearly not what he’d expected. “I have my suspicions. Why do you ask?”
“I thought perhaps I could listen and see if I hear anything of interest.” Her heart beat fast. She should be plotting to stay far away, not making commitments that would bring her back into contact with him once again. But, Goddess, she wanted that. Just as much as she wanted to set things right. “I could let you know what I learn.”
“No.” His tone was hard. “You will do no such thing. Not now. Not ever.” His expression hardened. “I don’t want or need your help. This was…” he cleared his throat, “nice, but you need to stay away from me, Aurora. For both our sakes.”
Nice? The tepid word cut like a blade, popping the idiotic pipe dreams she’d begun to spin and stealing all the glow from the golden threads curling through her chest.
Of course. How embarrassing.
He’d been so clear. Something carnal. Something short-term and physical.
Her inexperience no doubt made her imagine it held the same magic for him as it did for her and now she was clinging to him just like the two other Earther females who’d just come down this path, refusing to take no for an answer.
Of course, he didn’t want her help. She wasn’t his friend. If he knew everything, he’d be even less inclined to accept her assistance.
This damn Martian heat was muddling with her mind. For all she knew, maybe it affected her more than it did him? Maybe he was already over it? Or it had proven less exciting between them than he’d expected?
Nice was probably a generous description for what he’d experienced.
The thought made her cringe, her cheeks flame.
The sensations pulsing through the golden soul ties offered her no better clues to his thinking, the flashes of feeling coming from him dark and full of displeasure and only growing more so by the moment.
Staying away was the best form of atonement she could give him—and it looked as if that would be easier than she’d imagined, given that he clearly wanted that from her, too.
“Forgive me. Of course, I will go.” She turned, only to whirl around again, her skirt flashing silver. “I-I just want to thank you. I-I really did soar with the stars. And-and I regret none of it. I realize my behavior proves I am no better than those women, but I can’t stand for you to think I view you in the same light. Martian heat or not, I do not see you as a savage or a monster or a thief or a murderer. To me, you are a courageous, honest man caught in a mess not of his own making. I hope that no matter what else you think of me, you will believe that.”
She could tell by the slack look on his face she’d surprised him again.
She didn’t wait for him to recover.
Skirt clutched in her hands, she hurried down the path, praying she would not run into Lady Everly or Lady Bainbright. She didn’t think she could pretend right now—and yet she would have to if she saw them. Because that was her life. She’d forgotten for a moment in the Warlord’s arms, but she remembered now.
Lies atop other lies. Deception her only chance for survival.
She tugged the door open and hurried inside.
She’d missed her chance to steal anything during the exhibit, but it was just as well. She doubted she could muster up the energy for such an ordeal right now.
A hand seized her upper arm.
For a heartbeat, she thought it was the male she’d just left in the garden. Excitement flooded through her.
All too soon, it was replaced by horror.
“Where the hell have you been?” Her stepfather’s face was a mask of fury as he yanked her to face him.
“I went to get a breath of air. I got lost in the maze. S-stumbled against some of the hedges.” She prayed none of her recent escapade showed.
“I told you to remain where I left you.”
“It was crowded.”
His gripped tightened.
She fought to keep from whimpering. “We…we should return to the others.”
“I don’t think so.” He dragged her to him, his eyes darting from her eyes to her lips to her breasts, his pupils shrinking to ominous pinpricks. “You seem to have forgotten your recent lesson. I think you need a clear reminder of who is master here.”
“No.” She struggled in his grasp, every cell recoiling at the thought of his laying hands on her and wrecking the beauty of what DaKar had made her feel. “Don’t touch me.”
“I’ll handle you however I want.” His hand clamped around her breast. Pain shot through her as his fingers dug into her skin. “I own you, my jewel, and you will learn not to disobey me.”
“There you two are.” Executive Inglebrooke’s voice sounded down the hall.
“We wondered what was keeping you.” Lady Maitland spoke next.
Whetherton’s grasp disappeared so swiftly Aurora stumbled backward.
Swiveling, a false smile pasted on his face, her stepfather greeted the recent arrivals. “Thank you for coming to look for us. I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”
He started forward. Only to pause when he realized she wasn’t beside him.
He turned, a clear warning in his eyes. “Come along, Aurora. Our friends are waiting.”
Everything in her screamed to run in the opposite direction. But where could she go?
Head held high, she walked forward on trembling legs. She’d traveled to the stars in DaKar’s arms, but if she wanted any chance of making it off planet for real she’d have to remember she was the only one who was going to make that happen for herself.
18
DaKar slammed shut the record book on his desk.
He should have been flying through the calculations for the coming year’s predicted profits. Instead, he was stymied on the first month.
He shoved back from his seat. Prowled the length of his study.
Images of driving deep inside Aurora played like a loop inside his brain while his cocksto pressed angrily against the seam of his pants, clueless to the fact that there would be no repeat of what had happened earlier this afternoon.
He’d miscalculated. Badly. He’d thought he could control the heat. Be
en so certain he could keep things exclusively physical for them both. It hadn’t been a problem with any other female. But then, what was between him and Aurora was unlike anything else. He’d never before experienced the hunger and need he felt for her. The sensations crashing over him too big, too possessive, too hungry to control.
Holding her, hearing those sweet moans, watching her melt under his command, feeling her come apart was the single hottest experience he’d had in his jaded life. Nothing had ever been better. No battle won, sweeter. No victory more satisfying or beautiful—or right. As if it was meant to be.
Growling, his fangs lengthening despite himself, he paced to the other side of the room.
Letting her go back to the exhibition had been hard. Even now he wanted to run her to ground and fuck her. Claim her. Mark her. But the beast inside would not settle for just her body. He wanted her mind. Her soul. Her heart, too.
And that was too dangerous.
The arrival of those females and Aurora’s offer to help had driven that home.
He was an accused thief and murderer. Disgraced and looked down upon, just like he’d been in his youth. A target someone would stop at nothing to destroy. That would never change among the élithe. They would always find some reason to hate him—and if she was linked to him, that would be her fate as well. Despite what she’d said, he’d felt her regret. Her discomfort and fear.
He couldn’t allow such danger to taint or touch her.
A knock sounded at the door.
“Come in.”
His valet, Rhagghest, stepped inside, the frills at his jowls bristling while the scales at his neck shifted from grey to dark blue and back again. Like all humanoids from the farthest moon near Jupiter, those were clear signs of nerves among his people.
DaKar forced a smile, sans fangs. “What can I do for you?”
Unlike most of his asht-hole élithe brethren, DaKar hired both Outer World and Earther servants to work in his estate and thought it ran smoother for it. Plus, there was the nice added benefit that his father would have hated it.
“Forgive the intrusion, Warlord Volkan. There is a female caller who insists upon seeing you. I told her you were not accepting visitors, but she refused to leave.”
He was up and gesturing for his jacket before the next question was out of his mouth. “Did she give her name?”
“Yes.”
Disappointment surged through him. There was no way it was Aurora. She would never be so forthcoming.
“Her card says Miss Stanthorpe.”
“The devil you say.” What the hell could Peller’s mistress want with him?
From what he remembered, Miss Stanthorpe was an attractive redhead whose innocent face hid a mercenary heart. She’d been their father’s mistress too. When his sire had tired of her, she’d tried to interest him in the role of protector, boldly sending a message all the way to his home on Phobos. The notion hadn’t appealed in the least. Peller had felt differently.
Could his half brother have sent her?
“You’ll see her, then?” His valet hadn’t moved. “If so, I will bring her to you in the visitor’s room.”
“Yes, thank you, Rhagghest.” He threw the words over his shoulder as he headed out the door. He doubted he’d ever get used to the formality of this place. At home, if he wanted to see someone, he saw them. Now, there were hoops to jump through, procedures to follow, special rooms to visit in. It was enough to make a Warlord want to smash something, but those working for him seemed to have certain expectations and they got flustered when he didn’t follow them. So, for their sake, he tried.
“Sir, your ring?”
He looked back to see Rhagghest holding something in his hand. It took a moment to register. His father’s ring. He’d taken it off to work on the books. He scooped it out of his valet’s palm and slipped it on his finger. It had been nice to go a few hours without scraping his scalp and horns raw, but given his guest downstairs, it was probably best to be well armed.
Miss Stanthorpe was nibbling on a Martian sweet cake when he entered what Rhagghest insisted was the salon. Looked like just another room to him.
The past few years had not been kind to his surprise visitor. She looked a good deal older and unhappier. But, then again, she had been Peller’s mistress for a while.
She rose to meet him.
“Miss Stanthorpe, I trust you have been made comfortable. Please, sit.”
Though she smiled politely and did as he bid, it was easy to detect her nervousness.
He himself perched on a chair that was much too small for him. He hadn’t bothered to change out most of his father’s furniture. Mostly because he hadn’t expected to be here so long.
“Good afternoon, Warlord Volkan.” Her voice sounded overloud in the small room. “I apologize for my boldness, but once you hear why I have come, I think you will be extremely glad I did.”
He raised an eyebrow, but did not speak.
She leaned in, artfully displaying her bosom. “As you are aware, I have maintained an association with an acquaintance of yours for some time. But, to be perfectly blunt, I am ready to move on. Indeed, I must move on.”
“I’m not sure I understand what this has to do with me. As I told you years before, I’m not in the market for a mistress.”
Her expression turned sly. “How about information?”
“About Peller?” He shook his head. “There is little about my half brother’s misdeeds I don’t already know. And if there were, you are mistaken if you think I would do something with such tales. I am not in the habit of blackmailing, even those I detest.”
She fiddled with the buttons on her glove. “You could do with the information as you wish, but I suspect these private family letters will be more useful in the hands of your lawyers.”
“Are you suggesting you have information that would undercut Peller’s challenge to my inheritance?”
“I am not suggesting. I am telling you directly.”
He leaned back in his chair and studied her. “You’re willing to give me these papers?”
Her gaze cut to his family ring. “In exchange for a lengthy, generous settlement, yes.”
“That’s all?”
“Not exactly.” Her expression hardened. “I am a woman of high taste. A settlement, no matter how generous, will only last so long. Since we are speaking plainly, I will also require the notoriety of being your chosen courtesan. After being the mistress of an infamous Warlord, I will have my pick of élithe males for as long as I like.”
He couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice. “I would think the opposite would be true.”
“Your area of expertise is females. I know males.”
That could not be disputed. He returned to what interested him. “You are certain this is information I can use?”
She met his gaze directly. “I’m sure of it. But I would be more than happy to include a clause in our contract stating that if the papers prove worthless, I’m required to return the house, jewels, and clothes and the contract is terminated forthwith.”
“That confident, huh?”
She nodded.
A brisk tap against the door distracted him from his next question.
On the other side of the door stood Rhagghest. His jacket askew, his hair rumpled, the scales at his neck a vivid, alarming orange.
“What’s wrong?”
“Forgive the intrusion, Warlord. But one of the floater boys just reported a mob heading this way. Word is, they’re coming for you.”
19
“Interesting.” DaKar remained where he was.
“Interesting?” Rhagghest worried look grew more pronounced. His people were a fairly gentle race. “Shall I have a floater prepared so you can slip out the back? Send for the constable?”
“Actually, if you would inform my visitor I’ll be a few minutes, I would appreciate it.” He strode down the hall.
“But…but Executive…sir…” Rhagghest sputtered behind him
.
He pivoted, but kept walking backward. “Don’t worry, Rhagghest. I am going to do my best to calm them down and find out what’s behind this.”
“Very good, sir.” Rhagghest looked relieved.
“But if I have to pound a few heads, I will.” He let his anger, frustration, and—of course, excitement—show. “It has not been the best of rotations.”
He was half-Martian and a Warlord, after all.
Rhagghest blanched, all color seeping away.
DaKar turned and sprinted down the rest of the hall. He preferred to reach the mob before they shattered any windows or broke down the door.
He wasn’t sure how it had happened, but he’d started growing a bit territorial about his Earther home.
By the front door, he found a wall of footmen, liverymen, and other servants. All of various hues, scales, and skin types.
“Warlord.” Tom stepped forward. Despite his bent back, he stood proud. “We thought you might like some support.”
“Thank you, gentlemen.” It cheered him to see evidence of such loyalty. He’d left his warriors back home in the good hands of his second-in-command, but he still missed them—and the camaraderie. He hadn’t thought he’d find it here as well. He’d feared his abandonment had destroyed whatever bonds had once existed between him and those who’d gone through hells with him, but perhaps he’d been wrong. “I hope it won’t come to blows, but I appreciate the reinforcement.” He pushed open the door. “Shall we?”
A seething mass with ropes, bottles, and planks surged down the street. There had to be at least forty. From their speech and eerily pale skin, it was clear most were Earthers and Outer Worlders from the lowest rung of the Corporation ladder, the grunts who worked the sewers, mines, and the shuttle transpo ports. Desperate souls, easily swayed by hunger, money, and fear. Hardly worthy combatants.
His warrior rage lessened.
As one, they swarmed the front lawn.
“Murderer.” A big red-haired Earther with a scar on his cheek smacked a pipe into his beefy hand.
