2. Zarin

From the very first moment he saw her planting trees during a tour of Kalln’s impressive groves, Zarin Aurata knew he had to have her. No matter that she was a citizen of the neighboring territory of Kalln or that Tanl’n Maher already denied Zarin’s rather polite request to borrow her and her expertise with fruiting trees to rehabilitate his kingdom’s own precious olive groves. As King of Thulida, Zarin didn’t take no for an answer when it came to something he wanted.

As he settled her into the passenger’s seat of his desert rover, he allowed himself a moment to admire his prize. And what a prize Seraiah Vedure was. Curves for days, thick black hair that tumbled over her shoulder in a silken waterfall, wide expanses of smooth copper skin begging to be touched. He ached to bury his fingers in that hair and kiss her, curious to know if she tasted as good as she looked. Long black lashes cast shadows on her broad cheekbones. Beneath her snub nose, her dark red lips parted, a speck of drool gathering in the corner of her mouth.

Charmed, he used his thumb to wipe the moisture away, taking the opportunity to stroke his fingers over the curve of her jawline. So soft. She smelled of bright sunshine and healthy sweat, a scent that sent blood rushing straight to his cock.

“Your majesty,” Iraj, his head of security, said over the comm, distracting him from the luscious woman slumped in the seat next to him. “We should take our leave before someone gets suspicious and comes to investigate.”

He wasn’t wrong. Three armored desert rovers belonging to the Kingdom of Thulida idling next to the fields of another leader, even though they’d agreed to be trade partners, would draw unwanted attention. “Let’s go,” Zarin said. His private rover hummed as the auto-pilot kicked on, following Iraj’s lead vehicle.

Was she worth the risk of blowing up what would be a truly beneficial allyship?The inexorable, unavoidable pull he felt towards her from the start compounded with his spontaneous purring when he held her in his arms answered that question. She was his mate. Of that, he had no doubt.

And now that he had her in his claws, he would not let her go, not even at the behest of a friendly neighboring territory.

He brushed a damp lock of hair out of her eyes. A light chime sounded, and he reluctantly turned his attention from his mate, a woman he never thought he’d be lucky enough to find. He’d have time enough to look his fill once they reached the palace. Touching the rover’s wide dashboard panel, he brought up Iraj’s face on the vid screen.

“Are you certain this is the best course of action, sir?” A ghost of a frown slipped crossing Iraj’s face before it returned to his usual neutral expression, his eyes on the road as he lead the convoy away from the city. “I doubt Kalln’s leader will be pleased to discover his new trade partner abducted one of his citizens.”

Zarin waved a hand, brushing away Iraj’s concerns. “Tanl’n Maher knows the ways of the Felida people.”

“Sir,” Iraj’s voice held a hint of reproach, “our people have not practiced bride theft in over a century of cycles.”

Zarin raised an eyebrow. “A proud tradition that deserves a comeback, don’t you agree?”

He knew damned well that Iraj wouldn’t gainsay him, even if he fervently disagreed with his king’s statement and actions. Not in front of other members of the security team. But once Iraj got him alone, he’d tell it to him straight, a right he’d earned over the years before Zarin was king, back when they were young warriors patrolling the plains.

“Of course, sir,” Iraj said, his words punctuated by a barely audible growl. He turned the lead vehicle up a steep incline into the mountains that would take them home.

“Any particular reason we’re going this way, Iraj?” he asked. He knew the answer — Iraj wanted to put as much distance between them and Cywillana as possible before Seraiah was missed, and the Willana Passage was the fastest route through the mountains that divided Zarin’s territory from Kalln — but trying to get the man to react in any way that was less than cooly professional in front of others was a side project of his.

Iraj spared him a flat look before returning his gaze to the rough road ahead. “Storm’s coming. It’s best if we can get to the palace before it hits.” Unlike most Felida males, Iraj kept his golden brown hair cropped high and tight, exposing the white tufts of fur on his cat-like ears. They twitched with annoyance. A small twitch, but a reaction nonetheless.

Zarin made a soft noise of satisfaction. Switching off the auto-pilot, he took control of the rover, skirting around a fall of rocks. This region of Cinzia, its swathe of desert bisected by the wide ridge of red sandstone mountains, was generally temperate, but when the autumn storms made their way down from the north, they packed quite a punch. “Risk of the canyon flooding,” he said. “Could trap us.”

“Better than pissing off our new trade partner.” It was as close to scolding as Iraj got in the presence of others.

Thunder sounded in the distance, a long roll that reverberated off the rocks surrounding them, penetrating the double insulation of the rover. “Best move faster then, if we’re going to outrun the storm.”

“Majesty.” Iraj inclined his head. “Stay close to my bumper,” he added. “There’s been word of bandits operating in the area. Cywillana’s head of security said they believed they got the leader, but passed along a warning anyway.”

“Affirmative. I’ll remain up your ass for my own protection.” There was a snicker from the lead rover before Zarin tapped off the comm, counting the interaction as a win in the war against Iraj’s stilted professionalism.

He missed the ease of their friendship. But ever since his father stripped his eldest of the crown and saddled Zarin with it upon his death, his friendship with Iraj had taken a hit.

Not surprisingly, his entire life had been upended because of it. Malhar was supposed to be the one in trade negotiations with other territories, deciding what was best for their people, and running the country, not Zarin. Damn Mal for starting a revolution and pissing off their father. If he’d just waited a few years until the old bastard died, it would have all worked out for everyone. Instead, Mal was off somewhere playing space pirate and Zarin was king.

If anyone asked — not that they would; a benefit of being the ruler — he planned to blame the pressures of the crown on his impulsive decision to snatch up Seraiah Vedure.

Speaking of, the woman herself was finally coming around, making soft noises that made his cock pulse as she worked her way through the cobwebs from the knockout dose she’d inhaled.

“Hey there, little tree nymph.” He watched her out of the corner of his eye while keeping his attention on the road ahead. The sky was shifting from a bright, shining blue to an angry dark gray worryingly fast. “How are you doing there?”

She startled and pressed herself up against the door, her eyes wide. “Who are you?” she asked. That her voice didn’t shake made him oddly proud.

“Zarin Aurata, at your service.” He twirled his hand in lieu of a bow, returning it to the wheel when the rover slid over some loose rocks, his side bumper scraping along the wall.

“Like, as in Thulida’s Zarin?” Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the seatbelt.

“Exactly so.” His ears twitched, taking in every adorable sound she made.

Her chest heaved at his answer, and it took every ounce of his willpower to keep his eyes on the road rather than watching those magnificent tits bounce under her tight shirt.

“Did you drug me?” An undercurrent of anger ran through her words.

“I did.” He shrugged. “It was the most expedient way to get you into my rover without attracting attention.”

She took a slow breath, held it for the count of five, and released it just as slowly. “And I’m in this vehicle with you why?” Her voice turned low and deadly.

“You’re coming home with me.” If he was a smarter man, he’d give her a longer explanation, especially considering the waves of anger rolling off her. Good thing she wasn’t armed.

Or was she? He shot a glance at her before returning his eyes to the road. The promise of the strong storm hung heavy in the air, and they were moving too fast for him to spare too much of his attention for the pissed-off woman sitting next to him. She hadn’t felt armed when he held her soft body in his arms. Where would she even hide a weapon in the tiny outfit she had on?

“Home? With you? In the coldest hell that’s going to happen,” she ground out. Before he could counter her moves, she flicked out a knife, slashed out at him, sliced through her seatbelt, and flung herself from the moving vehicle.

Fuck. Where did she pull that knife from?