Chapter 11

Aramon

“Her name really is Evie,” I said to Solear. I’d called him on my com device from the sitting area because holding an actual conversation was easier out loud. Our bond was strong, so strong that it stretched much further than was common for Asrai twins, but I liked to use my words, not convey things in emotions and fragmented phrases. “I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone, so you can’t either. Not even the captain, understand?”

My brother nodded solemnly, his expression still grim and dark but also exhausted. His lip was split and bloody from the sparring match with Asmoded, and as he sat shirtless on his bunk, I could see the dark black bruises that covered him. “Go see Dravion, please.” He shook his head this time, and I was not surprised—the stubborn bastard was too much like me.

“I feel like danger is around every corner, and she’s been in danger all her life. How could they do that to her?” I snarled. “They used her as a decoy. They didn’t care if she died, as long as their stupid princess survived!” Granted, from what I now understood of the situation, this mission was about averting a large-scale invasion of their world—it was significant. It still didn’t make it right. I was not okay with the callous way they had treated my woman. Solear said nothing, but I could sense his agreement. He didn’t like that I was far away or that her secrets had stirred up our past, but he wasn’t angry with her.

There was a knock on the door that interrupted my conversation, and before I could say anything, my brother disconnected the call. “Bro… not even a goodbye?” I muttered under my breath. I picked up my laser pistol before making my way to the door, pressed my back against the wall beside it, and tapped the panel so it would slide open. I stuck the barrel of my weapon in the face of the person on the other side, then laughed when I discovered it was Tass.

“Here are the boots you wanted me to fetch,” he said dubiously, holding up a pair of specially designed combat boots in one hand. His skin was green like that of a Xurtal female, shimmering slightly with moisture; his species did not appreciate the dry desert heat. When he jiggled the pair of currently misshapen boots, that moisture dripped from his wrist with a splash. “Just because you’re pretending to be royalty doesn’t mean…” He trailed off when his words made the Tarkan recruit stationed outside the door chuckle. He glared at the stone-skinned male, thrust the boots against my chest, and stalked away.

I laughed too, pleased to have ruffled some feathers with my request. Tasseloris was a good warrior and an even better tracker and mapmaker; he felt like a little brother to me, which meant I had every right to tease him.

Thoughts of my brothers-in-arms faded to the back of my mind when I sensed my female behind me. The Tarkan saw her too. Raukash stiffened abruptly and raised his fist to his chest before dipping into a respectful bow. I didn’t like the glint in his slate-gray eyes; the admiration was neither welcome nor appreciated. Reaching out, I whacked him upside the head, and he didn’t even have the presence of mind to duck. “That’s my betrothed you’re staring at. You keep doing it, I’ll scoop your eyeballs out with a fucking spoon. Got it?”

The male straightened abruptly and jerked out of my reach, wings flaring wide, his battle-form hardening his skin. Good. With a pleased grin, I turned my back on him and shut the door. My heart started pounding furiously at the sight that greeted me, and my cock instantly grew hard inside my pants. Damn, I didn’t expect her to look this good in a simple spare shirt of mine. Why was that?

She stood in the doorway to the bedroom, her green hair lying over one shoulder and leaving wet stains on the dark gray shirt. Fabric clung to her flesh and ended mid-thigh; she wore nothing else. No, that was not true—she wore the little pendant that transformed her from a human into a Xurtal female. Her skin was a lush emerald green, and knowing what it concealed made it feel wrong. “Turn it off. We’re alone again. Turn it off, now!” I growled, not caring how rude it sounded.

Her hand dipped to her belly, and, much to my disappointment, she pressed that pendant through the shirt. It flicked off in the blink of an eye, and she went from a verdant emerald to pale cream—the kind of cream I liked to pour by the bucket into my Chaff each morning. Brace stocked the rich-tasting Yikar cream from Sune’s lush farm worlds, and her skin was that exact shade. Now I was hungry as well as horny. How had that happened?

I stalked across the sitting room, my bare feet making no noise against the silver marble, and came to a halt right in front of her. Too close, I knew I was, but I didn’t care. I liked that it forced her to tip back her head to gaze up at me; her throat looked so vulnerable and soft. It was a struggle not to reach out and curl my fingers around her slender neck. Thankfully, I was holding a pair of boots, so my hands were full.

“Here,” I said roughly, and I shoved the items toward her. She fumbled to catch them, her eyes wide and still an inhuman red that I knew wasn’t right. “So you can properly stomp around the next time you’re upset.” That drew a smile from her mouth, and I couldn’t resist. My hands were free now, after all. Leaning forward, I cupped the back of her neck and held her tight. Then, I pressed my lips to hers and laid claim. When she did not resist, victory danced through my veins.

My breathing was ragged, and my cock painfully hard by the time I released her. Dragging my eyes from her flushed pink cheeks to her chest, I admired the way her breasts heaved and her nipples pressed against the gray fabric of my shirt. The boots I’d handed her were dangling from her fingertips at her side; she hadn’t even looked at them yet. “You’re welcome,” I said, prodding her. She jerked back, a scowl settling on her face.

“Thank you, Aramon,” she responded sweetly as she jiggled the boots. I knew she was being sarcastic, but I didn’t care—I smiled. “We need some ground rules,” she continued as she took a step back. I followed because it wasn’t in me to let her retreat, I didn’t like it. She took another step back, and I glided forward; now we were in the bedroom, and the huge, fluffy bed loomed behind her. “One,” she said, raising a finger, “you sleep on the couch.”

“No,” I said immediately and shook my head. “We share. What are you afraid of? Have you seen how big that thing is?” I was not passing up the chance to snuggle with my female, and I was going to make her see that she didn’t want to miss out either.

Her expression went tight, her mouth pinching with displeasure, but I ignored that. When she flicked up a second finger, I was tempted to grab her hand so she couldn’t do it again. “Two, no peeking. Damn it!” Ah… she thought I’d looked when I left her the shirt, did she? She’d be right, but I had fully intended not to, I swear. I had only looked because she’d made such a sad noise that it had torn at my heartstrings. It was what had prompted me to call Solear for comfort.

“Okay,” I agreed, and that made her expression grow less guarded again. When her third finger came up, I gave in to my impulse and grabbed her hand. With a little tug, she came forward, and I pressed her palm against my bare chest, right over my heart. “I will not peek into the bathroom, but we are totally snuggling.” When her mouth twitched, I knew I’d made her smile, and she was trying to hide it.

“Three,” she started, and her smile grew wider. “I’m serious, Aramon! This is important to me.” I nodded and pushed my dislike for all these rules aside so I could listen; if it mattered to her, I had to try to listen. “Don’t threaten your friends, please. I’m not truly your betrothed; this is all a sham, remember?”

Frowning, I shook my head. That request didn’t even need a second to consider; the answer was very simple: “No.” I rushed to explain when she made an indignant spluttering noise. “Real or not to you, you’re my betrothed, and if they ogle what’s mine, they’re going to get what they deserve. I don’t compromise on that. Understand?” I wouldn’t feel bad for a second if I had to follow through on my threat to Raukash, and the male knew it. There would be no further incidents.

Her skin turned pink, first her cheeks, but it flushed down her throat and beneath the collar of the gray shirt. “Fuck, Aramon. You’re the worst, you know that, right?” I beamed at her, my toes wriggling in my boots. I liked that: the worst. Said with a blush and a smile, that could only be a good thing.

“Want me to show you how bad I can be, my love?” I suggested, grinning widely when her blush turned a brighter pink. She spluttered, her hand in my grip pulling as she tried once again to retreat. The knock at the door gave her a reprieve; her eyes went huge, and she dropped the boots I had given her with a thud, her hand flying to the piercing in her belly button. One blink, she was my lovely human mate; the next, I was staring at the Xurtal princess. Electricity crackled over her flesh—not visibly, but I felt it tingle over the fingers I held, a shock of static arcing between us as she yanked her hand free. Was that what she always felt when using that thing? That couldn’t be pleasant.

“Stay put,” I warned her, and I drew my pistol and went back to the door.

***

Evie

He was impossible—absolutely, utterly impossible. Wearing actual pajamas was a nice change, though, and being able to turn off the illusion device when it was just us was a relief. My flesh was hypersensitive from it. It constantly caused discomfort when it was on, so being able to relax and recharge was a much-needed reprieve.

What was not relaxing was how little space this impossible male allowed between us. How he’d said no to my most important demands and then took up so much space on the bed that I felt like I couldn’t escape him. Sprawled on his back, arms propped behind his head, he was a tempting sight, wearing nothing but a pair of pants. Tempting and sinister at the same time, with his skull-like features and ready but macabre grin.

Dinner had been served here, and we’d received an update from the Ovt security force. Jaxin had accompanied the uniformed male, and I’d heard their voices rumble as they discussed my safety while I hid in the bedroom. We’d also received a delivery, courtesy of the mate of one of the delegates I was here to negotiate with—a human woman who was mated to the current acting King of one of the many Tarkan Queendoms. She had sent a selection of clothes for me upon hearing of my misfortune and the loss of my luggage. What were the odds that someone here would be human and about my size?

Now I had pajamas and several formal dresses suited for the warm weather, and, thanks to Aramon, also a pair of boots. Impossible man, but a kind man too. It was the best gift I’d ever had, and the most personal. How could I not like him for that? I glanced over at him and discovered that he was now drumming his fingertips against his tight abs. My mouth went dry with desire, and, to distract myself, I focused on the danger that hung over my head.

“We need to figure out who is behind these assassination attempts,” I said. I started to list the options, but other than the Sythral and the Tarkan Queendom, which had set all this in motion, I couldn’t really think of anyone. The Ovters had no stake in any of this; they had no force with which to occupy Xurtal if they were after the resources. The others at the table were either small players who needed an alliance themselves or peace-loving.

“Not the Sythral,” Aramon declared. “They don’t care about shit beyond their planet. They’re total seclusionists.” He had a point; I hadn’t expected him to have that kind of insight. But as he started going through all the players we’d meet at the table tomorrow, I realized he knew a lot. Aramon had been everywhere in the Zeta Quadrant and then some. He’d spoken with crimelords and ended up on the most wanted list for the Rummicaron. He knew far more than his irreverent behavior and lackadaisical attitude made it seem.

“Enough of that,” he barked when we’d been talking for over an hour, and darkness had long since fallen. Cold was starting to pervade the chambers, and I’d snuggled up under the thick blankets on the bed. I’d done that as close to the edge as I dared, hoping that would persuade him to keep his distance—but only because I wanted to curl up in his arms so much. He didn’t seem cold, lying atop the blankets without a shirt.

I was starting to think that I’d imagined that moment when he’d called me mate. I had to be mistaken, and I couldn’t rely on anyone but myself. Of course, when Aramon turned off the lights and then stole my blankets, I had no choice but to chase after him, and that was my fatal mistake. A girl couldn’t complain when the end result of our scuffle was lying curled up like a burrito in his arms beneath a pile of blankets. Not at all. Aramon had warned me that cuddling was not optional, and he hadn’t lied.

Maybe I was a little touch-starved; it was too easy to give in. I didn’t think I’d fall asleep, but that, too, was simple.