Chapter 12

Evie

My nerves were on fire when I walked into the conference room that morning. Aramon was at my side, sauntering along like he had not a care in the world, his posture relaxed, his expression serene. Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me if he really was that relaxed. Theronix was in front of us, leading the way and scanning my seat and the pitcher of water in front of it for danger. The two meeting each other that morning had been the only tension-filled moment so far. Indeed, Aramon was very hostile towards Evadne’s last remaining guard. And Theronix? He did nothing to hide his dislike of the Asrai male.

“All clear, your Highness,” Theronix said as he dipped into a deep bow beside the chair. He held out a hand to indicate that I could sit down, but I refused. It didn’t seem like the right mood to come to a negotiation table and sit at the head like an entitled queen. I wanted to be on my feet, greet every delegate personally, and I was certain that Evadne would have done the same.

We’d arrived first, guided here by an Ovt security guard and an Ovt official clad in beautiful gold and white robes. That male was going to preside over the negotiations as the neutral party; he was supposed to be there to keep things civil and streamlined. Since the Ovters and the Sythral were my best guess at being behind the assassinations, I could not help but stare at him with suspicion.

“You must tell your guard to step outside, your Highness,” he now drawled. Fixing Theronix with a stern look from his large black eyes, the flabby jowls beneath his chin wobbled. It would have been very disrespectful to giggle, but the sight of those jowls definitely made me want to. It was too much like jiggling jello, and the green spots and paler green streak beneath his chin didn’t improve that impression.

I looked at Theronix and noticed the way his mouth had tightened with displeasure. It didn’t help that Aramon was grinning widely, far too pleased. “Of course, we must ensure not just myself but all delegates feel safe.” I had been allowed into the meeting room first so my security team could make a proper sweep and ensure that nothing dangerous was left inside. The last mercenary was just filing out, but they were going to take up position right outside the door and scan everyone who entered.

With stiff shoulders, Theronix strode outside just as the first delegate arrived: a huge Rhico male wearing a silk cloak, red silk pants, and a large gold chain over his massive, muscular chest. I knew the male personally—or rather, Evadne did. He was one of the many sons of the Rhico Magistrate, the current ruler of their small collection of planets. They were new to the alliance but not new to maintaining friendly terms with the Xurtal. In the past, Evadne had flirted and danced with this huge male, and I knew she had a soft spot for him because he so clearly admired her grace and beauty. Privately, I’d always thought that was more about her status than anything else, but I hadn’t dared to sadden my friend with that kind of input.

“Ah, beautiful, luscious Evadne,” the Rhico drawled in a thunderous voice, his arms spread wide, his small, beady eyes locked not on my face, but on the cleavage visible above the neckline of my borrowed dress. I dipped into a graceful bow, stepping one leg back and bending at the knees. My hip brushed against Aramon’s thigh as I did so, and I realized he had frozen in place, his chest swelling and arms spread wide in a hostile posture.

“That is my fiancée you speak to, Rhico,” he said in a deadly voice. The smile slipped from my face, and I whipped my head around to look at my bodyguard in shock. What the fuck was he up to? He couldn’t talk like that to a male I needed to convince to join this freaking alliance. This diplomat, a lesser son, would be thoroughly offended. The Rhico did not mate for life, and they did not practice long-term marriages either.

Placing my palm on Aramon’s flat belly, I could feel the tension that vibrated beneath his skin. His muscles were rock-hard, and it felt as though he were ready to leap across the distance right now to strangle Thrymnor. “Excuse my betrothed,” I said politely. “Our relationship is very new. We are still in the Lurivan phase of it.” I purposely used a word from his own language, one specifically used for the first few weeks of a new relationship, when Rhico males tended to be very possessive and volatile concerning their current mating partner. It made Thrymnor’s expression go smooth and amused in a heartbeat, and I drew in a relieved breath.

“Ah, that is sad news indeed, Your Highness. Congratulations on your betrothal.” He bent stiffly at the waist in Aramon’s direction and stomped to the large, extra-reinforced chair at the table reserved for him. “I had always hoped to share a mating contract with you, but I see such dreams are off the table. For good?” The last he uttered as a question, but he clearly did not expect me to answer. His eyes took in Aramon’s still-bristling body, and with a grin, he shook his head as if that decided things.

It had to look that way to him, because my bodyguard had slipped completely and utterly into the role he was supposed to play. He slung his arm around my shoulders, his body pressing close, appearing every inch the possessive, mating-drive-struck Asrai noble in his fancy, gold-edged robes and tight leather pants. Only I knew of the weapons hidden in secret pockets and the concealed pouches that lined his robe and were belted to the small of his back—supplies and weapons for emergencies.

The Rhico was hopefully the only fractious moment as delegate after delegate filed into the meeting rooms. Some had a guard come in to conduct their own security sweep, but most seemed to trust that the location was secure, despite yesterday's delays. My heartbeat sped up at the sight of a human woman as she was escorted into the room on the arm of a large Tarkan male. She greeted me warmly, and I thanked her for the clothing she’d lent me. I wanted to keep talking to her, but the arrival of the Asrai nobles required my attention. They spelled trouble, clustered together and clearly thinking the very best of themselves.

That’s when I thought Aramon was going to lose his shit. He had seemed ready to brawl after meeting Thrymnor, but that was relaxed compared to the tension that flooded his system now. I couldn’t even tell how I knew that, because his posture sure as hell hadn’t changed. It felt a little like it pressed against my mind, oppressed, filling me with his tension at the sight of them. I could understand it, a little, Asrai nobles were generally not the most pleasant people to deal with. There were a lot of them: thousands of noble houses scattered throughout the Zeta Quadrant and across the many planets they occupied in tiny corners and fiefdoms.

I was starting to realize that Aramon had serious issues with Asrai nobles, but he didn’t say anything. Taking the lead, I greeted each male politely and warmly, pointing them to the right seats. It was not my place to play hostess, but the Ovter male who was supposed to had sat down and was watching the proceedings with a glum expression, his arms crossed and his weird jowls still trembling.

With all of the delegates now at the table, it was time to start the meeting. The Ovt official introduced himself, then, in the most dull voice, started listing the credentials of everyone present and the reason for this meeting. Only then did he allow me to take the lead. This was the moment I’d been dreading the most, but when Aramon gently squeezed my thigh beneath the table, I felt a surge of confidence. Rising to my feet, I opened the meeting in earnest, and the words came far more naturally than I expected them to.

Eight hours later, I was not nearly so confident or enthusiastic about making my case. I had a new respect for the jobs Evadne had done in the past. Yes, I’d taken her place at a banquet or two when she was sick or thought to be in danger, but I’d never done any real negotiating—nothing like this. Who knew that Thrymnor could be such a stick in the mud, like a pitbull with his sights set on only one thing: securing Xyraxin for his nation? The Asrai were disruptive and bored, and the Sune male was polite but dull, droning on endlessly, sometimes for so long that even our Ovt neutral party felt compelled to intervene.

The only bright note had been the Tarkan King, Kalzudaud, and his human mate. The two seemed as in need of this alliance as I was and came to my aid on numerous occasions. Aramon did too, but mostly to lend credence to the threats on my life.

Eight hours of my life, and we were no closer to an alliance or resolution. Some of the delegates present were still debating the validity of the supposed threats that I and the Xurtal Kingdom faced. The Viridara male, especially, seemed to believe I had made those up to push them into joining this alliance.

When Aramon escorted me out of the meeting that evening, after we’d shared a long, dull meal, I felt wrung out. Utterly exhausted, I tromped into our chambers after mercenaries had once again swept the place. This time, nobody got close to me with any of their devices, though I suspected that the Ovt security guard had triggered yesterday’s malfunction. Aramon had carefully kept his body as a shield between me and any scanners as a precaution, but I didn’t think it was necessary.

Once the door shut behind the last mercenary, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I felt like throwing myself onto the bed and simply sleeping for a thousand years, but I was wired so tightly that I didn’t think I could sleep. It was also not at all what Evadne would do—not when a bodyguard still remained in the room with her. But this was Aramon, and I should have known that he would not play by the rules—not any of them. Definitely not mine.

While I stood like a sack of sand beside the couch, hesitating about my next move, he shrugged off his robe with a casual grace. Then he prowled around the small settee on silent feet, despite the combat boots he wore. I felt trapped by his scarlet gaze, his eyes glowing within the dark hollows of their sockets. “Turn it off,” he commanded, his voice taut with an unidentifiable menace. It sent goosebumps prickling all over my aching, tingling flesh—a sensation that was far from pleasant. That ache radiated from the illusion device dangling from my belly button.

My hand started to obey his command automatically, and I realized we had reached this point in our relationship where I trusted him implicitly. He beat me to it, his long legs eating up the distance between us at a quick pace, his large hand reaching for my belly just as I did. Our hands collided, his first as it brushed over the piercing and the device. My fingers clung to the back of his palm, and I did not let go.

As the electric current that continuously tingled over my skin flicked off, my breathing faltered, and my heart started to pound furiously in my chest. I did not dare to look away from his gaze, certain that he was going to make the next move. I wanted him to do it, to touch me, to hold me. Anything to make me feel better after how much I’d messed up today. If Theronix knew, he’d be in here, jumping down my throat to remind me what was at stake. I wanted to forget about princesses and kingdoms, valuable Xyraxin and alliances. I definitely wanted to forget about assassins out for my life.

What I did want was obvious. I’d wanted it from the start, for reasons I hadn’t been able to vocalize—let alone admit to myself. I wanted to know where I stood. No more uncertainty, at least about this one thing. With his warm, calloused hand pressing against my belly through the thin fabric of the cool, formal summer dress, and his eyes boring holes into me, I spoke the question that had been plaguing me since last night: “What’s going on between us, Aramon? Tell me the truth, please.”

His eyes seemed to spark in the dark, gleaming from inside his eye sockets, his mouth forming into a ghoulish grin—a grin that made my toes curl in my sturdy boots, his gift from last night. It was impish, a little naughty, and pleased at the same time. I definitely should not have been able to read so much into that one grin, but I was certain I was right. Aramon was becoming easier and easier to decipher, but I still held my breath as I waited for his answer.

He raised his free hand and curled it around my throat, a gesture that was entirely possessive, a little threatening if it had been anyone but him. His fingers pressed tight against my skin, but not too tight, and they were a claim. That hand made me feel like he owned me, and it felt entirely wrong to respond to that with a rush of wetness and an ache low in my abdomen. His grin morphed into a very serious expression as he drawled, “Don’t you know?”

I helplessly raised a shoulder but did not move my head an inch. He held me trapped in more ways than one. With his heated gaze, the warm glow of his eyes, and that possessive hold around my neck. I knew I could break that grip and leave at any moment. There were at least a dozen moves I could use to escape, but I didn’t want to.

His eyes slipped from mine to linger on my mouth before they slid even lower. Shamelessly, he perused every inch of my body, and I felt that gaze like a physical caress as it glided over my breasts, along my waist, and over the curve of my hips. “You’re mine, my love,” he said, his voice lowering until it was a deep rumble that bordered on a growl. “You are my mate, my woman, my princess.”

With a snap, his gaze jumped back to my face—not audible, but it felt like a rubber band that had stretched to its limit and now settled back into shape. Aramon did not lie. I knew that with every fiber of my being; he hadn’t once lied in the meeting today, either. He hadn’t needed to say a thing to maintain his cover; everyone had simply assumed he was the real deal.

I felt that truth settle over me like a blanket, warming me against the cold of the desert night. It was what I needed to give in to the pull I felt for him. My eyes left the warm glow of his and took their own path along his body, admiring him—from his wide shoulders and the warm red tint of his skin to his heavy pectorals and the sculpted lines of his abs. There was a sharp V that delineated his hips and arrowed into the waistband of his pants. Thinking about where that V led made my breathing hitch and my pulse stutter in anticipation.

I wanted him. He wanted me. Right now, it didn’t need to be any more complicated than that. Reaching out, I placed my palms on his chest. “Want to not take your eyes off me in the shower?” It was a joke—but I was dead serious too, and not disappointed with his response. He threw back his head and laughed, his chest shaking beneath my fingers, his pulse pounding. Then his hand slid from my throat down between my breasts before joining the one still on my belly. The sensual caress made my legs tremble, but I didn’t need my legs anyway. Once he held my waist, he picked me up, and with a whoosh of rushing air, I was thrown over his shoulder.

His arm pinned my thighs to his chest, and the other slid over my thighs to stroke my now very prone butt. “You are not getting out of that one now that you said it, my love,” he growled. My body bounced and jiggled against him as he stalked from the sitting room, through the bedroom with its massive bed, and straight into the bathing chamber. “I am going to watch you so much you’re going to go crazy, and then I’m going to lick you, and fuck you, and lick you again. That’s a promise, got it?”