Ask For It (8 page)

The loss of women from his society made those in a family even more treasured and their sexuality revered. The concept of shame because she was desired was strange. There were no whorehouses on Leonor as other worlds knew them. The term whore was learned from other societies. There were places where a warrior could seek relief with a priestess if he needed.

Within families, sisters and mothers were tenderly cared for. Women not of blood relation were petted, licked and pleasured by all adult males.

Finding one’s brother with his head between one’s wife’s legs was not uncommon or unwelcome. It was stimulating to see her twisting in pleasure, hunching into his face. It meant she would be ready for her husband’s cock. Often so needy of cock she took it as the brother continued fondling her breasts or ass. It was common for her to enjoy oral penetration from the brother while her husband pleasured her cunt or ass.

That did not mean a Leonor husband did not feel the need to demonstrate his ownership of her. Taking her on his cock as the one who’d pleasured her watched often fulfilled that drive. If the pleasuring had been public, so would her fucking, proving her ultimate completion was in his hands alone.

Privacy was not an issue. Caressing a wife to completion on his lap at the dinner table or while chatting with guests was honorable, proof of his care of her. Other males lusting her beauty in all aspects was a compliment both to the family and her. A Leonor wife seldom wore much clothing in her home. Her body was a pleasure she was proud of as was her family.

Of course not every relationship was a carbon copy of the others. There were different levels of sexuality enjoyed in each. A Leonor female’s need of dominance, to feel secure and happy, varied as did the warrior’s needs. What seldom varied was a wife’s pride in her husband’s need to fuck her. His lust, his pleasure in her body driving him to take her often and with no regard to location was a vanity Leonor women enjoyed.

The accusation of rape was the most serious charge that could be brought. Conviction meant death. There had not been such an execution in close to a thousand years. Rape was complete loss of control and contemptible in every way. The fine difference between forcing a female and dominating her was easily discerned. The scent of fear and pain as opposed to pleasure and excitement spiced with humiliation was clear to anyone. Slavery was considered rape by Leonor warriors, it smelled exactly the same, and those traders were killed without compunction.

Sahara’s attitudes about sexuality kept surprising him. Tor was growing impatient with himself over this. He was widely traveled, well educated and high king. All of that made him completely aware of other societies and their value systems.

The entire Leonor culture was committed to respecting other species’ way of life as Guardians of the United Planets Alliance. They were well suited to being the military arm of the Alliance. It provided combat warriors needed to hone skills with the benefit of not threatening their homeworld. Somewhere there was always need of them.

Tor was the first to find his family’s future off-world. He should be a model of Leonor’s ability to accept and respect cultural difference. The scent of shame wafting around Sahara was unacceptable. It condemned her family and was potentially dangerous. It would tell others of her unhappiness and might cause a serious incident. Abusing a female would get a warrior killed, regardless of rank.

“Sahara, you need to bend a little with us,” Tor stated gently. “Understand our culture as we struggle to understand yours. I will be the first one to admit I’ve been arrogantly ignorant of your culture. Don’t label all of Leonor with the harsh judgments of other societies. There is no Leonor native who will ever see you so cruelly. It does not enter our thinking that attraction to a female makes her a whore.”

Sahara relaxed, her defensiveness draining away. “I know, I know. I thought I’d finally accepted Leonor sexuality. I just can’t stop being afraid. For so long, discovery was a life-or-death issue, and triggering Mist Lioness sexuality a fatal mistake.”

Tor consciously did not reach for her. She had to surrender her fear on her own. Trust could not be taken, it was only real if given.

Her eyes moved from him to Burke and finally Nearrid. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “It’s been insulting, hasn’t it? My reaction to your touch as my husband’s brothers.”

“It was painful to me, but for other reasons exclusive to you and I,” Tor stated. “My brothers had a greater understanding than I did. Nobody condemns you. Nor do we expect you to conform to our customs, beloved. I have no problem keeping you all to myself. Just don’t be afraid of your natural attractions. Not with your family or any other Leonor citizen.”

Sahara left her wall, reaching for Tor. Gathering her into his embrace was an unexpected relief. Any separation now, even if it were only emotional, seemed to have an ill effect on him. Holding her loosely was an effort, and he couldn’t resist wrapping his tail around her ankle.

From across the room, Nearrid’s deep voice commented quietly, “You are an off-worlder. Unease with our customs is natural. I was not offended, little sister.”

“Nor I,” Burke added. “But I wouldn’t mind you growing more comfortable with us.”

That’s when Tor realized Leonor society would change dramatically if Mist Lions returned. Burke’s casual comment triggered an immediate response in him. His rejection of the visual was deadly.

The possibility of entering a room and finding Sahara spread under Burke’s tongue, his paws holding her legs wide as he licked her sex was not going to make him proud. Even such a tame thing as her sitting on Nearrid’s lap and eating from his fingers as his other paw disappeared under her skirt to stroke her was repulsive.

“No, we don’t!” Nearrid countered firmly. “Mating a Mist Lioness creates a new set of rules.”

Tor had been standing rigidly with his back to the room, Sahara shielded from them with his body. It was unintentional to begin with. Consciously he relaxed and turned to face them, his arm around the woman he could not share.

“How is it you know that?” he asked Nearrid. Suspicion raised its head as Tor looked at his unreadable brother. What could he know of a Mist Lioness’ effect on her chosen mate?

Leonor warriors are masters of control. Display of emotion was not only weak but a sure way to get killed in conflict. Nearrid often resembled a rock, both in his control of expression and in how closely he guarded his thoughts. Even when he spoke it was usually difficult to ascertain his opinion on the subject unless he chose to reveal it.

Nearrid regarded Tor for a second before a rare smile flickered across his muzzle. “Observation. You and Signet. It’s obvious.”

Burke was frowning at them. Nearrid glanced at him. “I’ll explain it to you later. It’s time to go see what the scientists have come up with.”

Heaving himself off the couch, Burke characteristically made no effort to conceal his disgruntled thoughts. Of the three remaining brothers, he was least concerned with rules. Perhaps it was his size, large even for a Leonor warrior. By most species standards he was massive. Over eight feet tall and heavily muscled, Burke could afford any mood he wanted.

Chapter Seven

There was a bit of quiet throat clearing and some shuffling as Sahara entered the conference room beside Tor. Taking his seat, Tor settled her on his lap in the way any Leonor male held his wife. Little desert flower stiffened for a moment as Burke and Nearrid took the chairs on either side of them.

“Trust me,” Tor murmured into her hair as he nuzzled her for a second. He was rewarded with the tension draining out of her. One thick arm around her back for support, the other hand rested on the table in a loose fist.

“Gentlemen, do we have an update?” Tor opened the discussion.

After another explanation of the problem for Sahara, they finally got down to the questions. Sahara responded politely.

No, she had no knowledge of Mist Lion engineering or construction practices. No. She had never heard of such a weapon. No. She’d never seen a Mist Lion obelisk. No. She did not know if there was a Mist Lion continent under the Starling Ocean. No. She had never encountered a device that responded to her through her Mist Lion biology. Oh, it might matter that she was not one hundred percent Mist Lioness, just mostly.

At this point she held up her hand. “Gentlemen, perhaps this would be a more constructive conversation if I told you what I do know.

“Mist Lions have spent a very long time hiding and are either excellent at it or dead. We do not live in groups.

“I am not an expert on our history. Here is the little I know. After leaving our homeworld, and I never knew its name, we found another planet very like ours. We lived there a long time before it became apparent our genetic compatibility with the natives was having disastrous results in their DNA. We passed on our abilities but they often mutated in humans, the natives of the blue planet. Our talents could result in predators regular humans had no means to combat. It was apparent those predators would eventually devastate all other indigenous cultures.

“Destroying as many of the mutants as we could, Mist Lions departed the blue planet called Earth and declared it a forbidden planet. One powerful male remained to correct the problem. I have no idea if he managed it, or if he’s still there. In any case, he is the only full-blood Mist Lion I know of. Also the only location I know for sure that has a Mist Lion, or did.”

Much discussion ensued. Even if Sahara got near the obelisk, would it interact with her? How would she get near it? The ocean surrounding the obelisk was now frozen. It was possible to travel there across it. However, the crossing would be exceedingly dangerous. Falling temperatures and rising winds, not to mention the weapon and its unpredictable behavior were known and unknown risks. Using a flyer would require nearly breaking the atmosphere to get above the storm and then flying straight down the eye. Again, it was unknown if the obelisk would perceive that as an attack.

Tor brought an end to it. “Sahara and I will take a flier and investigate the obelisk.”

“What? You can’t,” Vizier Karloff stated firmly. “High king does not enter combat or go near life-threatening devices.”

Tor turned a cold gaze on the men around the table. “This high king does not send women into dangerous situations alone. More specifically, this woman does not leave my side. I have two brothers. You can afford to lose another one of us.”

Turning to his brothers, he continued. “Burke, go find the Mist Lion on planet Earth in case Sahara and I fail. Nearrid, sorry, brother, but you’re next in line for the throne. You’ll have to hang around being safe and crap. Sahara and I expect to leave in an hour.”

Tor stood with Sahara held against his chest and strode from the room, leaving a few seconds of stunned silence and then general protests that faded into a conflagration of directions echoing after them as they disappeared.

Sahara made no comment as they again headed toward Tor’s apartment. Turning her body into him with arms circling his neck, her fingers gently threading through his hair, her mouth opened over his throat. Her licking kisses as she nuzzled him drew a deep purr from his chest as they crossed the palace.

“What are you doing?” he growled softly. “Public display hurts you. I don’t need it.”

“I’m thanking you for understanding that,” she answered softly. “Public display of my need of you is my thanks. Besides, we both know I must to be fully identifiable as a Mist Lioness when we get near that thing.”

They were at his door, Tor shouldered them through and kicked it shut to stand looking down at her face a moment.

“What?” Sahara wanted to know.

“Here is how I see it,” Tor stated while still holding her high against his chest. “The scent of your need triggered the device, not the scent of our fulfillment. According to the satellite photographs, it erupted from the ocean before I saw you that morning. It was silent until around noon.” Tor paused as they regarded each other.

“Right about the time…” Sahara glanced away and bit her lip as she remembered.

“About the time I entered my little desert witch and fucked her,” Tor finished her sentence and continued. “The storm has been gathering strength ever since until this morning. I have not taken you since late last night and we took a long bath after because you were sore. The storm is strangely stable for the first time in three weeks, maintaining pressure and velocity.”

Sahara frowned as she followed his train of thought. “You didn’t mention this to the scientists.”

Tor let her slide down his body to her feet. “No. It is personal and would have embarrassed you.” He held her against him as he continued. “You must be fully identifiable as a Mist Lioness and you’re no longer in heat. Also, you have to be dressed to withstand extreme cold. That means we need you to maintain a high level of sexual excitement without my scent on you as we approach it.”

“That doesn’t sound fun, but I suppose you have a plan.”

“Who says it can’t be fun?” Tor asked softly. “Of course I have a plan. Remote-controlled devices can be very pleasurable.” His hands were already busy reaching behind her to release the fastenings of her dress.

Sahara stepped away from him to let her dress slide to the floor. Beneath it were silk and lace undergarments she had insisted on wearing for a public appearance. Tor decided they were not as irritating to look at as he had said when he protested her putting them on.

As she turned to walk into his sleeping quarters, the view of her ass covered with those scraps of material awoke the chase instinct. She wasn’t running from him, but that defiant material hiding her intimate flesh from him was a problem. He wanted to catch her and rip it off. Then show her how exposed those intimate bits of her body could be to him.

A growl rumbled in his chest as he stalked after her. At the sound, Sahara paused in the doorway to glance back at him. Her hand casually caressed her bottom as she did. Desert flower knew exactly what she was doing. Tor didn’t care.

She stopped beside the bed, her head turned to regard him over her shoulder with a mysterious smile on her lips.

Tor remained in the doorway, his legs braced wide, his form filling up the space and blocking her escape. “Take them off, Sahara. No, remain facing that way.” His low voice reverberated with command.

A visible shudder flashed down Sahara’s body and the scent of her excitement perfumed the room. Tor knew exactly how much she enjoyed submitting to his sexual commands. They had made love almost continually for the last three weeks. He’d learned her well.

Removing her bra slowly, Sahara let it drop to the floor. Sliding her thumbs under the thin bands of her panties at her hips, she pulled them down, bending to retain her hold on them and step out. Her legs slightly spread, she proved she knew him well also.

Remaining still and simply watching her required firm control. Gracefully straightening, she dropped the panties on top of her bra. Her hands came to rest on the globes of her ass, caressing lightly.

“No, baby. Hands behind your head, lace your fingers,” Tor corrected her. “Turn around. This is for us, about us. You are my woman and nothing will change that.” He strolled to her, calmly explaining, “The pleasure is ours, not just yours, not just mine. The deranged machine can’t change that. We will give it what it needs right now, but only this time.”

Tor’s large hand grazed her belly, circling as fingertips glided over smooth skin. “I don’t care that you can shift into a she-cat. You are still my mate. It doesn’t matter how fast you can move, you can never escape my hold.” Claws extended on the hand trailing up her torso, lightly scraping over expanding ribs as her breathing grew rapid.

He moved behind her, his breath feathering her shoulder as he continued. “Telepathy only means we share more than we could have without it. Do not think there is anything about you that will frighten me, little desert flower. You have come home.” He cupped her breasts with both hands, razor-sharp claws resting lightly on sensitive skin. “I am your home, Sahara. This is where you belong.”

The claws retracted and he pulled her into his chest. A deep sob welled up in her as she relaxed into him. Her hands left her head to cover his arms now wrapped around her. Her eyes squeezed shut, she grimaced in emotional pain, her face turned into his mane as he bent to her. The trembling wasn’t all sexual and Tor needed her to face that. Accept her place with him as the only place she belonged.

“Am I safe?” she asked in a wobbly whisper.

Tor knew where her desperate question came from. It was about a lifetime of hiding, running. He was afraid she’d seen her mother die as a result of going into heat without a mate. Avoiding asking those questions might not have been wise. Sahara’s needs were complicated but always came back to her craving his strength. Sexually, she went insane with pleasure when he held her immobile, controlling her with his body as he took her.

Instead of hating the Leonor customs of the wife held close to a warrior most of the time, she actually loved it. Curling under his arm on a lounge or sitting in his lap at meals were especially pleasurable for her. His ego was pretty much drunk on her need to feel his power around her, but hell, he’d paid a steep price for this freedom. Rationally it was obvious one of her main issues centered on safety.

In their time together, almost all of it staggeringly intimate, she’d never once used words of endearment. She was sexually his to command and she liked it that way. She fed on his need to pet her, cuddle even if they were too tired to play. She wanted him exactly how he was with her. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t given him a safe place in her soul. If this was all he could have from Sahara, it was enough.

She must understand her place with him. Regardless of what happened next, he would not give her up and remain breathing. It was as simple as that.

“With my life, with my brothers’ lives, I pledge your safety, Sahara. It has been true from the moment I found you. You are home.” The words were said as he held her naked in the shelter of his body while still dressed in all the symbols of his rank and title. They were as complete a pledge as a Leonor warrior and king could make.

Sahara turned in his arms to burrow into his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“There is nothing to be sorry for.” Tor sat on the bed, holding her across his lap in the traditional way of his people. “I have the future in my arms and she is mine. What is there to be sorry for?”

“For needing the words after five years of knowing this truth.” She did not lift her head as she huddled into him. “I was afraid to come to you when I should have. It was easier to see the Corbeth as another example of having to fend for myself. I wanted it to be so. It was safer.”

Tor slipped a hand under her chin and lifted her face. “Never be sorry with me, beloved. The past was necessary to understand our future.”

His lips pressed to hers in a gentle caress but he didn’t enter her mouth. There could be no scent of his possession in her. Not even this. They couldn’t afford to ignore what few facts they knew about the trigger for the planet-killing machine.

Feathering kisses over her face, across her closed eyes, Tor caressed her breasts with firm hands. Worshipping her and giving her proof of his possession was a new pleasure. The price of this much control might kill him but it would never be too high.

Turning them to lie across the bed as his hand traveled down her body. Beside her, up on one elbow, he studied her eyes as his hand left her to reach over her and pick up the tube of lubricant from the other bedside table.

“You will do this,” he told her. “My scent cannot be in you. You will prepare your ass and put in the vibrator for me.”