Alien, Mine (35 page)

He snatched her hand from his body and pressed a kiss to her palm.

“Well you can at least join me in the bed,” she encouraged.

He laughed. “No, my love. I know my weaknesses. You will rub that delectable body against mine and all my resolve will vanish in a heartbeat.”

Damn, he saw straight through her.

“I’ll never be able to sleep, you know.”

“Get into bed, my heart.”

Eugen retreated under her glower. Five minutes later when he checked she was fast asleep, with Dexter curled up on the pillow beside her head.

Bells were ringing.

Are you listening? In the lane, snow is . . . what?

Sandrea struggled to make sense of her world. Consciousness strengthened. Bed, she was in bed. Her roaming palm collected the faint warmth of a recent occupant. So Eugen had joined her after all. Good Lord! She must have been exhausted not to notice his presence.

A knock echoed through the silent quarters. Chimes peeled again.

“I’m going to have those disconnected,” she muttered and disentangled her body from the sheets. She shrugged into a robe and tied the sash.

“Eugen?”

A loud rap and more chime peels came from the door.

“Eugen?”

Her jaw cracked to a huge yawn as she made her way through the apparently vacant rooms. She touched the door open and peered through bleary eyes.

“Where’s the fire?” she muttered at Dovzshak.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Ambassador, but you did say to call if . . .” He trailed off.

She pulled in a deep breath that morphed into another yawn.

“If you persist in calling me Ambassador when we’re not in public, Dov’, I’m going to brain you. Now what’s the problem?”

“Yes, Am— Sandrea. It’s the laraxdon. He keeps dropping things at my feet and tearing around the quarters.”

She frowned and tried to force her thoughts into a more rapid response time. Eugen billeted the laraxdon with Alpha? The devil! Looks like the qualifications for becoming a member of that elite squad just had another criterion added.

The creases of dismay pleating Dovzshak’s face and the worry that practically dripped from his eyes tugged at her soft side. She leaned her not-quite-awake yet body against the doorway.

“Okay, my friend, first of all your laraxdon is a she, not a he. You really must name her. Dropping things at your feet is most likely an invitation to play fetch. As for tearing around, how long have you been exercising her for?”

“Exercise?” A weak quaver wobbled most un-soldier-like through his tone.

Oh, dear.

“Yes, exercise. No wonder she’s hyper. I imagine from whatever part of the Galaxy these laraxdon hail from, they’re working animals. She’ll need lots of exercise and mental stimulation. I’d start enjoying running if I were you.” She pressed her lips press together in consideration. “We’ll have to get you a ball and thrower, think up an obstacle course, maybe some flyball.”

Waves of bewilderment flowed from Dovzshak. He lifted a fist and scrubbed it across his brow.

“Could you . . .?”

A plea she couldn’t ignore.

“Alright, I’ll be with you in a moment.” She took a step back into the cabin. “Come in while I get dressed.”

His face congealed into something resembling terrified scandal. “General Mhartak would have me skinned.”

Really? Whadda ya know?
“Well, I wouldn’t want that. Give me ten minutes.” She turned and walked toward the bedroom, throwing over her shoulder, “If you’ve got a mug of tea waiting for me, I’ll have you promoted to Corporal.”

Within the set time, she returned, Dexter a warm weight on her shoulder, to find Dovzshak pacing restively in the corridor, a thermal mug in one hand.

“You recall what I said to you about abused animals?” she asked, accepting his beverage offering with a smile.

He nodded.

“Well she’s just trying to bond with you. It’ll be alright, Dov’, honest. I’m guessing these laraxdon are much like canines and can sense an animal lover. You tend to her needs, and you’ll have a friend for the rest of her life.”

“But you’re an animal lover. Why didn’t she pick you?”

She shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe Dexter had something to do with it.”

Outside Alpha’s quarters Dovzshak . . . dithered. It looked odd on such a big man. From inside the quarters came the sounds of demolition.

“I think you’d better open the door, Dov’.”

He didn’t appear convinced of the merits of that idea. She reached out, touched the door open, then ducked, keeping her tea upright, as the laraxdon hurtled past. The beast slammed into Dovzshak and levelled him in the corridor.

Sandrea stuck her head through the open doorway.
Hmm. Oh Lord, I hope that isn’t Kulluk’s favourite vest.
She turned and addressed the laraxdon.

“Right, madam, I think we need to establish a few rules for acceptable behaviour. And let me tell you right now”—she waved her free hand toward the cabin—“
this
is not one of them. These quarters are a disaster. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

The laraxdon smiled at her, tongue lolling out over one side of her jaw, her feet placed firmly on Dovzshak’s chest.

“Don’t let her do that, Dov’.”

“What?”

“Stand on you. You have to remain the dominant one otherwise you’re in for all sorts of grief. Get up.”

He raised himself, not without difficulty, to his feet.

“Right, where’re the treats?”

“She ate them.”

“
All
of them?”

Dovzshak nodded.

She sighed. “Alright, we’ll get some more, but
you
have to make sure she doesn’t get into them.”

His reply was borderline querulous. “How’m I supposed to do that?”

“Get a grip, soldier, I’ll show you. Now remember, it’s discipline and then praise, lots of praise, and patting when she’s done something well. Right, we’ll get some training treats and then we’ll start with sit and ‘no’, or maybe we should start with ‘no’.”

That evening after a culinary extravaganza and a number of embarrassing speeches extolling her virtues, Sandrea maintained a defensive position in a corner of a huge reception room. The cream of Alliance society glittered around her and for a fleeting second she thought longingly of the quiet ducts of the Bluthen asteroid. At least there all she had to do was survive, not—
ugh—socialize.

“So, Ambassador.” Councillor Hognan invaded her hideout and offered a delicacy. “How are you?”

She squashed her immediate reaction to repel all boarders and accepted the treat.

“Fine, thank you, Hognan, and you?”

His richly covered paunch quivered to a suppressed laugh. “Well, very well, thank you.”

“I know you have already accepted the apologies of the Council, but I would like to express my personal regret at the position you were forced into.”

She shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Some good came from it.”

Hognan rubbed his thumb along his index finger, twirled the stem of the cut crystal flute between the fingers of his other hand, and stared into his drink.

What’s he really want?

“I believe General Mhartak has asked for your Eternal Monogamy.”

Ah, here it is.

“Yes.” Her gaze turned to the object of their conversation.

“Excuse my forthrightness, my dear. I do not wish to seem indelicate, but are you sure you wish to pursue an intimate relationship with a being not only outside your own race but whose skin is so dissimilar to your own?”

Mild offence and surprise held her tongue for a moment. “Is it me or him you don’t approve of?”

Hognan eyed her with calm regard. “Neither, my dear. General Mhartak is greatly honoured by our people and you have become their darling.”

Darling? Hell, somebody has been seriously misinformed.

“I am concerned only,” he continued, “that you have not explored your compatibility fully.”

She returned her gaze to Eugen standing halfway across the room and answered the Councillor’s misgivings.

“On my world, Hognan, it takes a lifetime to fully explore a couples’ compatibility. If you’re in it for the long haul, you accept your partner, warts and all. You may rest assured my feelings for Eugen Mhartak will not change.”

“That is all I hoped to hear, Sandrea. I wish you happiness.”

She granted him a smile. “Thank you.”

“Well, Ambassador, if you will excuse me, I must circulate.” The look he gave her before ambling away clearly said in her official capacity she should too.

She girded up the loins of her mind and sashayed into the crowd in the most ambassadorial manner she could attain. Close to midnight, a much-loved hand took possession of her elbow and a deep voice offered, “Would the Ambassador care to retire for the evening?”

She did not need to be asked twice. With a speed that impressed her no end, Eugen escorted her around the dignitaries it was essential they pay their respects to before leaving, then propelled her out to his waiting hoverjet.

On the hour’s flight to Eugen’s place in the mountains, Sandrea took the opportunity to power nap. The changing engine resonance of landing woke her. She wriggled upright from her slumped position in the co-pilot’s chair to peer through the forward screen. Eugen touched a switch and golden light spilled from several large windows of a sprawling lodge nestled into the harbour of a semi-circular bluff.

“Oh, Eugen your place is lovely. Are you sure you don’t mind me scattering my desert roses around?”

“Our place, my heart, and, no, I look forward to having your possessions everywhere.”

“You might not be so eager when you see how messy I can be.”

His big body leaned over her and he scooped her from the chair. Serenity and anticipation hummed through her as his strong arms held her close and carried her inside. She ran a hand over the hard, wide planes of his chest.

“It will be lovely to be here when we’re not at the front. What was that, Eugen?”

“My heart?”

“You made a noise, a funny strangled sound. Put me down, I’m too heavy.”

“That was not the cause for my . . . discomfort,” he said, striding into a softly lit living area. He released her legs and folded her close. “My heart, I am indescribably joyful that you have agreed to share my life, but . . .”

“But?”

“It is out of the question for you to accompany me when I return to Kintista. It is far too dangerous.”

A number of replies crowded her mind.
No shit?
probably being uppermost.

“I know, Eugen. Don’t forget my front is a hell of a long way from the Alliance one. I’ve been on both and survived both. If you think I’m letting you go back there without me, you’ve got another think coming.”

“Do you have any idea what I go through, seeing you in danger?”

“Probably much the same as I do. It’s no picnic for me, either, watching you charge into battle.”

“Kintista is a military base, only military personal and—”

She pressed her lips together and smothered a chuckle as realization sank into Eugen’s features. His muffled “Damn!” confirmed her victory and she finished the sentence.

“And government officials with clearance. I believe that includes ambassadors.”

Her fingers walked up his chest. Sweet pleasure brought a smile to her lips. Eugen growled soft and low. She kneaded the hard planes of his pecs and pressed against him. He moved to clasp her hands, but she danced playfully out of his reach.

“Uh-uh, keep your hands to yourself, General.”

Joyful emotions danced through her, swaying her body in languid, sensual movements. She locked her eyes with his and bestowed him an immodest smile.

Mhartak’s hungry eyes devoured every inch of his beloved woman. He bathed in the joy of simply being alive that shone from her.

“Well now, my General.” She sauntered to him, “I think it’s time we established a few ground rules.”

Mystification blanketed his understanding. “Rules?”

“Ah-huh.” She trailed a finger across his chest then over his shoulder blades as she circled him. “You will remain motionless until I give you leave to do otherwise.”

Her whispered breath feathered into his ear, sparking a blazing, erotic dance of his senses. Hunger pooled into a throbbing arousal and he inclined his head respectfully.

“As you wish, my dear.”

He knew he’d consigned himself to divine torture and relished the thought.

She leaned close, lips almost touching his, and whispered, “Good.” Her hips weaved back and forth across his, tantalizing his hardening length. Her fingers began a slow unbuttoning of his shirt. His hands trembled at his sides and he fought to obey her order as her tongue slid, her teeth nibbled, and her lips kissed each inch of him she exposed. She reached the last button, slid her hands beneath the shirt onto his shoulders, down his biceps then swept the garment away. His skin softened into erotic receptiveness as the heat of her warm, full mouth explored his chest then kissed her way around to his back.

The soft swish of her removing a garment stirred his arousal in the increasing confinement of his trousers. Her naked breasts pressed against the flare of his shoulders. Desire tore a gasp from him. She wove her arms around his waist and reached for the fastening of his pants. Gentle, caressing hands smoothed them down his thighs and calves, and then the catches of his boots released.

To her urging, he lifted each foot and she divested him of footwear and then clothes. His blood pressure spiked and his breaths came in short, shallow gasps. She moved to stand before him and his avid gaze drank in every sinuous move as she stripped the remainder of her clothing then stood, voluptuous and responsive, before him. The hard peaks of her nipples invited his attention and his mouth watered, longing to caress them with his tongue. But he did not move, knowing she would push him until he could no longer obey her directive. In the meantime, he would enjoy every delirious moment.