Chapter 25

CHAPTER 25

Lomax

“A re you all right, my mate?” Regan followed me to his couch, sitting beside me when I collapsed on it with a soft sight.

“I met a king and queen tonight,” I said. “Not only that, but I played card games with them.”

“Played card games poorly with them,” Regan said.

I poked him in the side, giving him a mock scowl. “Quiet, you! I only played so badly because I didn’t cheat off of you once.”

He laughed and pulled me into his lap, settling me against his chest and kissing my throat. “Did you have a good time this evening, small one?”

“I did,” I said. “I mean, I almost peed my pants when Quill and Sabrina showed up, but they were surprisingly… normal. Especially Sabrina. She doesn’t act like I thought a queen would act.”

“They are an unorthodox king and queen,” Regan said.

“So, Eastolf isn’t like that, huh?” I asked.

“No,” he said briefly, his face closing off and his body tensing beneath mine.

I traced my hand over his chest and changed the subject. “You should have told me that you fought Galan today, honey. I had to learn about it from Krey at dinner.”

“I did not want to worry you. Besides, it was only a friendly sparring match,” I said.

“One that landed you both in the infirmary with IVs,” I said.

“Galan is good with a sword,” he said, his casual tone making me giggle.

“So are you,” I said before kissing him.

He returned my kiss, the slide of his tongue against mine sending that same shiver of desire through me that it always did. I would never get tired of his kisses or his touch.

They’ll be gone soon enough.

I shook off that thought and slipped my hand under his shirt. I brushed my fingers over his nipples, smiling at the low hiss of air that escaped his mouth. He wasn’t returning my touch, and he usually was all over me. Feeling self-conscious, I said, “Are you tired from your sparring match with Galan?”

He shook his head. “I am not.”

I paused with my hand on his warm, smooth skin. “Then why aren’t you touching me? Are you…” I forced myself to say it, “tired of me?”

He stared at me in surprise before his tail slipped around my hips and squeezed tightly. “I will never tire of you, my mate. You are beautiful, and I spend most of my day waiting for the moment I can bury my cock in your tight pussy.”

I blushed furiously. Regan was blunt even for a Draax, and I didn’t know if I would ever get used to it.

You won’t have to. The storm is almost over.

My fingers dug into his chest, and he gave me a worried look, his tail loosening its tight grip so he could rub my hips lightly. “Sadora, did I hurt you with my tail?”

“No, not at all,” I said.

“What is wrong?”

“Nothing,” I said. “I just… can we go to bed? I need you, Regan.”

After a week of doing nothing but fucking Regan every single night, my desire for him hadn’t waned a bit. If anything, it was even more intense. I couldn’t get enough of my proud warrior Draax.

“I am worried you are tired and sore,” he said, rubbing my hips.

“I’m not. I drink plenty of juice to heal my body,” I said.

I slid off his lap and held out my hand. “Come to bed, honey.”

He stood, and we walked the short distance to the bed. We undressed each other quickly before Regan lowered me to the bed and covered my body with his. I was determined to make it about him, but like always, he took control, pinning my hands to the bed when I tried to touch his gorgeous hard cock.

“No, small one,” he growled, tightening his grip on my wrists as he kissed a slow path to one aching nipple. “You will give me your pleasure like a good mate.”

I moaned and squirmed beneath him as he teased my nipples into hard, throbbing buds. His cock was hot and stiff against my belly, and I wrapped my legs around one of his thick thighs and rubbed my aching pussy against his firm skin.

He nipped at my collarbone, making me gasp. “If you make yourself come against my leg as you did two nights ago, you will be punished, sadora.”

I pouted at him. “I still haven’t forgiven you for last night.”

He kissed between my breasts before pressing his thigh against my wet center. “I allowed you to come… eventually.”

“You edged me until I was crying,” I grumbled.

He nuzzled my neck and slipped his hand between my legs, cupping my pussy possessively. “Only a few tears that you quickly forgot when I let you ride my face.”

My pussy clenched hard just thinking about how good it had felt when I’d finally come on Regan’s tongue.

“Your tongue is magical,” I informed him.

“I am glad you enjoy it, small mate.” His finger probed between my wet pussy lips, and I dug my fingers into his biceps when he rubbed my clit with hard, firm circles. In only a week, Regan had figured out exactly how to touch me, how to turn me on until I was begging him to let me come. Our bodies were in complete sync, and I had never felt a connection to another person like I did with Regan.

He was moving between my thighs, and I spread them wide, welcoming the bulk of his body as he guided his cock to my entrance. He pushed steadily but firmly, my body stretching to fit the broad width of his cock as he watched my face carefully.

“Look how well you are taking me, my mate,” he soothed when I made a soft whimper.

He used his tail around my hips to tug me closer. He wrapped one big hand around my left leg, lifting it and spreading me wider so that I had no difficulty watching his cock sink into my willing body.

“Oh God,” I moaned as he pushed relentlessly forward.

“Shh, mate. Take my cock like a good girl.” He rubbed my clit with his free hand, circling it with a firm touch as he sank in those few final inches. He pressed my leg around his hip before propping himself up on his hands above me. He stared down at me, the love on his face sending warmth through me.

“You are mine, Lomax,” he said in a low voice.

“Yes, yours,” I said.

We moved together, our bodies in perfect rhythm, our gazes locked, until with a soft cry from me and a low groan from him, the pleasure found us both. Regan buried his face in my neck, his big body vibrating against mine as he made a few final slow thrusts.

“Mine,” he repeated in his deep voice.

“Yours.”

He eased off of me and reached between my thighs to gather his seed dripping from my pussy and rub it into my belly and breasts. When his need for the ritual was satisfied, I rolled to face him, and he gathered me close, my breasts pressed against his chest, our legs tangled together.

The bed was so narrow that we could only sleep on it together comfortably if we spooned the entire time, but neither of us ever suggested returning to sleeping in separate beds. Despite how crowded it was, I had quickly grown used to having every part of Regan’s body touching mine and suspected that sleeping without his hard warmth would be nearly impossible now.

He smoothed my hair back from my face before tracing his fingers across my collarbone, shoulder, and arm. I loved this part of our evenings, the closeness and warmth between us after the lovemaking was done, the gentle caresses and murmured conversation.

Regan was so easy to talk to. Over the last week, I’d told him more about myself than I’d told Hunter the entire two years we’d dated. Regan made it easy to share, his interest clear, and his gentle urging to tell me everything he wanted to know.

He was a little hesitant to speak about himself, but I’d discovered that asking him questions about his childhood and his parents and brother was a surefire way to have him open up to me. He had a harder time speaking of the present, of his life at the eastern castle, and I didn’t push him for more. I was curious, but with our limited time, I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable or push him away.

I traced the bridge of his nose and full lips before tracing the thin white scar that ran from just above his lip to his eye.

“Will you tell me how you got this?” I asked.

I expected him to refuse and hid my surprise when he began to speak. “I had just been appointed the head of the king’s guard only a few weeks earlier. King Eastolf is not a king who spends time with his people but decided at the last minute to appear at one of our festivals.”

“That must have been a logistical nightmare for the guard,” I said.

He nodded. “It was difficult, but with the assistance of his advisor, Noka, we made it happen, but we knew there could be problems with the public.”

“Why?”

“Many in our province are unhappy with their king,” he said.

“Is he not a good king?” I asked.

He looked supremely uncomfortable but, to his credit, answered my question. “He is a selfish king and often cannot see how his people suffer. His desire for power blinds him to the needs of those he rules.”

I studied him for a few seconds. “You don’t like him anymore, do you?”

He looked away, his fingers still tracing my collarbone. “It does not matter how I feel about him. He is the king, and I am his guard. It is my duty to protect him.”

“Tell me what happened.” I retraced the scar with gentle fingers.

“We were at the festival, which was crowded and poorly managed. King Eastolf did not allow me as many guard as I requested to protect him and -”

“Why not?” I asked.

“He did not want his people to believe he was afraid of those who opposed him. I was allowed to bring only three other guard with me.”

I stared at him. “Wait, so four guards to protect the king at a packed festival where he knew there would be Draax who were unhappy enough to potentially assassinate him?”

Regan nodded before sighing heavily. “A group of eight attacked as we were leaving the festival. They attacked as we escorted the king through a heavily populated section of the festival grounds. It caused widespread panic and chaos among the Draax, making it more difficult for us to get the king out of there and defend him. We fought them off, but one managed to get close enough to Eastolf to touch his cloak before I dragged him back.”

Regan briefly touched his scar. “He had a small blade hidden in his sleeve, and he used it to slash my face.”

“Oh God,” I said. “Honey, I’m sorry.”

He shrugged it off. “I overpowered him before he could do anything else, but the cut to my face was deep and caused the scar.”

I frowned. “Why didn’t you drink juice to heal it?”

He looked away, and I cupped his face and made him look at me. “Why didn’t you drink juice, honey?”

“The king would not allow it,” he said. “He was angry with me for letting the Draax get close enough to touch him. He said the scar would remind me of how I failed my king.”

I sat up in the bed, and Regan’s tail shot out to wrap around my waist when I nearly fell off the bed.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I shouted.

Regan pulled me back into his arms, stroking my back. “Be careful, sadora. You will fall off the bed.”

“I don’t care,” I said. “Your asshole of a king scarred you for life because of his poor choices, Regan. He didn’t give you enough men, and he… he did this to you because someone touched his fucking cloak?”

“I failed, sadora,” Regan said.

I cupped his face, staring intently at him. “No, you did not, Regan. You did your best with the limitations he put upon you. I have no doubt that the assassination attempt would have been successful if it hadn’t been for you. And instead of thanking you, he did this to you!”

I traced the scar, my body vibrating with anger despite Regan’s soothing strokes to my back. “You said you and Eastolf were friends growing up, and he still did this to you? What kind of fucking king is this guy?”

“Shh, my mate,” Regan said, pushing my head against his chest and holding me tight against his body until my trembling had stopped.

“Why do you still work for him?” I whispered. “He’s a terrible person, Regan.”

“Being a king’s guard is all I ever wanted,” he said. “I am not smart like my brother, and my size and strength make me suitable to be a guard. My father respects me because of the position I hold.”

“You are smart,” I said fiercely. “And I’m sure your father respects and loves you because of who you are, not just because you’re the head of the guard. He couldn’t have been happy when Eastolf did this to you.”

“He believed I failed in my duty, and it was a suitable punishment,” he said.

“What?” I would have sat up again if Regan’s tail wasn’t holding me tight against his body. “Your father agreed with you being scarred like this?”

“There was no one better than my father at protecting the king,” Regan said. “His legacy was unmarred by failure, and to have his son fail was a great disappointment to him.”

“His stupid legacy should not be more important than his son,” I said.

“But neither he nor Eastolf are wrong,” he said. “I failed, and the scar has done its job… I have not failed him since.”

“Why are you defending him?” I asked. “Regan, what Eastolf did to you was horrible. Why do you still care about him?”

He sighed heavily. “When we were younger, Eastolf and I were best friends, as close as brothers. We spent all our time together, and it was rare to see one without the other. When we were twelve, Eastolf got it in his head that he wanted to go swimming in the Shelrane. It is a river that runs through the forest surrounding the palace. It was a dangerous idea. The cold season had just ended, and the river was higher than normal and fast flowing because of the runoff from melting snow. I tried to convince him not to do it, but he was stubborn, especially when he got an idea in his head.”

His hand slowed on my back as he stared over my shoulder, his eyes distant with memory. “I went with him because I felt it was my duty to protect him even then. Only, it was Eastolf who saved my life that day.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“We were swimming, and at first, it was fine, but then we got caught in a current that pulled us both under. Eastolf managed to break free and swim to shore, but I could not, despite being a strong swimmer. I was drowning, and even though he could have died trying to save me, Eastolf dove back into the river for me.”

His hand slowed to a stop on my back. “I do not remember everything that happened. I just remember how cold the water was and how tired I was from trying to stay afloat. My arms and legs were numb, and I remember thinking it would be easier to let the river take me where it wanted rather than continue fighting. The next thing I knew, I was on my back on the bank, and Eastolf was pounding my chest and yelling at me to breathe.”

“Oh honey,” I said, “I’m so sorry.”

“He saved me, small one. Even though he knew he could die, he returned to the river to save me.”

I rubbed his chest and kissed his collarbone. “I’m glad he saved you, honey, I am. But that doesn’t give him the right to scar you like he did.”

“The burden of the throne has changed him, sadora. But I know the boy he was is still in there,” Regan said. “There is still good in him, and I cannot abandon him.”

“He doesn’t deserve you,” I said. “You enjoy being here with Quill’s king guard. Maybe you could stay. I know you won’t be the head of the guard, but -”

“King Eastolf may not be the king that Quill is, but he is still my king and one I have sworn to protect with my life. I do not take that lightly, and joining the western king’s guard would be a slap in the face to Eastolf and my father.”

I tried to keep the frustration out of my voice. “Okay, then you could join another military branch in the eastern province. Do something else that you love just as much.”

“Since I was a small boy, I have wanted to join the guard,” he said.

“Have you, or is it something your father drilled into you?” I asked. “Maybe you only think you want to be in the guard because that’s what your father wanted for you.”

He smiled at me. “I promise you it is what I truly want. Being in the guard is all I have. I know it is hard to understand, and I wish I could explain it better. When the storm ends and I return home, I will need it more than ever. I will have already lost my mate. Do not ask me to lose this as well.”

Guilt settled over me like a heavy cloak and, like it always did when I thought about being separated from Regan, a healthy dose of panic. I tried to breathe through it as Regan studied me before pulling me close again.

“My sadora, I do not say this to make you feel bad. I swear.”

I slid my arms around him, burying my face in his throat. “I’m sorry, Regan. I’m so sorry.”

“Hush, small one. We cannot choose who we fall in love with, and what matters most to me is that you are happy. Even if it is because you are with another who is worthy of your love.”

I started to cry, and Regan held me even closer, murmuring quiet words of comfort as he rocked me gently.

“You’re worthy,” I sobbed. “You are, Regan.”

He didn’t reply, and I pressed my face into his neck. My stomach was a hot stew of worry, doubt, and confusion. I had never been the type to fall in love quickly, and I didn’t know if I could trust what I felt was love. I barely knew Regan and the concept of being in love with someone I hardly knew was foreign and frightening.

But I couldn’t deny that my certainty that returning to Earth was the right decision grew weaker each day.