Ruler's Concubine (17 page)

When her gaze settled on his face, she noted the tiredness around his remarkable green eyes. Impulsively, she spoke. “You look as though it was a difficult day.”

Instantly, he met her stare while settling into the chair opposite. He obviously chose his words, and her heart sank further. What did they have in common, really? What did she have to offer him when he came home looking thus? Her mother would have embraced her husband and said soft things for his ears only, and coaxed the source of his angst from him. Celeste was dealt another crippling blow as she accepted she’d truly longed for such a union, despite the pain that would inevitably accompany any of the loss. She hurt now, and without the kind of connection her parents had shared to buffer it.

Lysett was speaking, and she strove to give him her attention. “Merely the usual issues of governing, Celeste. You won’t be familiar with them. But it’s nothing new to me, and to be expected.”

“Of course,” she murmured. “I’m sorry there’s nothing I can do.”

“Do?” He eyed her with something etching his features she hesitated to decipher. “You will fulfill your role, my concubine. I have no doubt of that. What more could I ask of you?”

Right. Indeed. She had that assigned role and would focus on it. Ignoring the welter of emotions she’d resolved to deal with earlier, Celeste nodded again and was grateful when Vorst approached with her tea and Lysett’s dishes. She pretended to sip at her cup, counting the minutes when she could believably request her dismissal.

“What do you miss most?”

Nearly choking on the fragrant brew, she blinked and made herself look at the handsome man sitting so close she could scent him. “Miss?”

“From Earth.”

“My friend, I suppose.” She didn’t miss the drafty old house with its sketchy garden and her miserly possessions. Meridia—the Ruler—had promised to provide for her and so he had. She should be grateful.

“Who is this friend?” His tone had a sharp edge to it.

“Laurel, my neighbor. She and her husband were the only people I felt I could trust.”

“Ah, a female. And she wasn’t among those … escorted here?” Lysett seemed to relax and applied himself to his meal.

“Laurel is past childbearing age,” she replied dryly.

He didn’t reply and didn’t look at her either. Celeste couldn’t help but feel a hint of satisfaction in reminding him how selective his troops had been. “I hope I might get word back to her at some point.”

His stare returned to hers. “That might be possible.”

A gust of air escaped her lungs. “Really?”

“Once we are certain the resistance to Earth concubines has been dealt with, there is the hope we might
negotiate
additional females being placed with our males. It would empower our cause if you were seen as happily placed here, and that would require a visit to Earth.”

Celeste resisted the urge to scan the room for mind reading paraphernalia. Hadn’t she just been thinking similar thoughts? She bit her tongue against protesting her suitability to be held up as a shining example. Lysett must be deluding himself, and his mother and his first servant were perpetuating the myth, but one thing at a time. The idea of seeing Laurel again twisted her belly with homesickness. With an effort, she kept her response calm and cool. “I’d love to see my friend.”

“You can’t travel while you are breeding, but we’ll coordinate such a trip in the future.”

It all came down to his requirements. Certain she’d scream if she had to listen to another word, she set her tea down. “I’d like to go to bed. I’m tired.”

Was it her imagination, or did those green eyes flare, the pupils dilate? “Of course. I regret the lateness of the hour once again.” He stood and offered his hand.

Willing herself not to feel anything from his touch, she set her fingers on top of his, and levered to her feet, then quickly pulled her hand away. The warmth lingered nonetheless and she nervously clutched the stuff of her dress. “Good night.”

“I’ll escort you.”

Wondering if he knew she was fleeing, despite her attempt to slow her footsteps, Celeste gained the stairs and hurried up them, aware of the heated bulk of the Ruler right behind her. She forced herself to measure the distance to her door and reached for the knob, only to be forestalled by Lysett’s big hand wrapping around her own. She shivered.

“Are you cold?”

“No. I’m tired. Good night.”

“Celeste.” He set his hands on her shoulders and gently turned her to face him, drawing her close. “There
is
something you might do for me.”

Setting her lips against a tremor, she swallowed and made herself look up at him. “And what is that?”

The glide of fingertips down the length of her spine stole her breath, and when he cupped a buttock in his palm, she nearly cried out. He bent and set his mouth on hers, absorbing any other sound she might have made, and traced the seam of her lips with his tongue. Almost involuntarily, she parted them to allow him entrance, vaguely aware he had fit her tightly against him. She felt the hard planes of his chest connect with her swelling breasts—and the bold thrust of his cock against her center.

“I would have you again, tonight,” he murmured beside her cheek.

Her voice of self-preservation clamored against the din created by his proximity, and the magic his touch was weaving. She struggled to find the words to disengage and came up empty, managing only a frail shake of her head.

“Celeste? Don’t deny me. I seek your comfort.”

Wasn’t that what she wanted to offer? Was it enough? It was too little for her, but sometimes half a loaf… Knowing she’d regret it, yet powerless to refuse, she bowed her head in surrender.

Lysett gathered her into his arms and strode away down the hall, shoving past a startled Morat. Celeste squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment and breathed in the Ruler’s familiar smell. She’d know him anywhere, for the rest of her life, his scent filed away to be stored with both happy and painful reminders. Nestled against the hard planes of his chest, she wondered where he was taking her.

Moments later, a door hissed open and she chanced a look through lowered lids. A spacious room filled her vision and a high, very large bed, dressed in dark gold and green fabrics drew her attention. They were in his apartments. A tiny part of her wondered if this was significant before he lowered her to the mattress, the intent look on his face giving it a near-feral appearance. She wasn’t fearful. The emotion he telegraphed caused her own need to unfurl. She felt it etch its symptoms upon her own features, her eyes widening, skin flushing and her breath deepening as her lips parted to gasp in more air. As if it was a signal, Lysett pounced.

He stripped her gown away with brisk, efficient movements, pausing only to coast his fingertips over her thrusting nipples before dealing with her undergarments. Her shiver and resulting arch into his hands elicited a dark smile before he tore at his own clothes. She got a glimpse of all that muscled, golden flesh on display before he was on her again.

Caged by his bulk, sweetly crushed, she reveled in the sensation of his skin on hers. Soft and smooth flesh slid against slightly hair-roughened and created a delightful dichotomy as he rubbed over her, the thickness of his sex prodding damply at her belly.

“I—” He set his mouth as she stared up into his face, willing her own passivity when she desperately wanted to put her hands on him. His head shook faintly and his lids lowered as if he was searching for the right thing to say.

Taking a risk, she turned her head to his shoulder and pressed a kiss there. His eyes flew open and she drowned in the wealth of emotion displayed. Before she could hope to decipher them, he took her mouth, and with it, her ability to think.

His big hands grasped her waist, then slipped beneath her, drawing her even closer as if to imprint himself. In a sudden move, he flipped their bodies and she found herself sprawled on an intensely provocative mattress with intriguing dips and … protrusions. Rough palms slid over her back to cup her buttocks before traversing her upper thighs.

Embarrassingly wet, she squirmed and her folds teased his shaft. Lysett tore his lips from hers and she thought she heard him … growl? The rumbling sound denoted barely leashed passion as she marked the tension of his big body, and wished to soothe him.

“Are you able to take me, Celeste?”

Could she? Her core ached for release, for him. She nodded, and he lifted his hips to grind himself against her.

“Put me inside.”

Spreading her legs, she set a knee on either side of his hips, fully aware of his avid stare as it raked her body. One hand came up to flirt with a nipple and distracted her from her task. Lysett chuckled when she threw him a disgruntled look. This hardly seemed passive, and her hand shook as she tentatively grasped his cock.

Softness over steel filled her fingers and she closed them around him as far as she could. His muted groan startled her and she instantly released her hold.

“No. Don’t stop.” He gave her what was likely meant to be a reassuring smile, but looked more desperate than anything else. “Continue.”

With more confidence, she clasped him again, taking the opportunity to stroke his length and drift her fingertips over the wide head. He groaned again, this time loudly, and she wished she might continue her exploration, especially downward to the firm sac she knew held his testicles.

Afraid of overstepping, she turned her attention to placing herself in a position to facilitate putting him inside, raising her body up and shifting forward. Her thighs quivered.

“You may touch me, Celeste. As I touched you.” He regarded her from between languidly lowered lids.

Such a thing would definitely not be passive, and she hesitated, thinking of how he had touched—explored—her. Encouraged by his nod, she stroked him from root to tip and cupped his heavy sac in her other hand. Lysett hardened further, flexing beneath her fingers as she continued her ministrations.

Moistening her lips, she ventured a kiss on the silky skin, inhaling his musky heat. He muttered under his breath and heaved a great breath when she kissed and licked along the shaft of his penis, then sucked the head into her mouth.

“By the Goddess, Celeste,” he groaned. He wove his fingers through her hair and directed her movements.

Emboldened, she used her tongue to mimic his actions from when he pleasured her and intermittently sucked, losing herself in pleasing him, until he tugged her head upward.

“Did I do it wrong?” She touched her mouth, finding her lips wet and swollen.

“Not wrong, Celeste, but I wish to spend inside of you.”

His words crashed over her like a spill of cold water. Procreation. This was about making a child. She froze and tried not to think about anything other than that. Pleasure was secondary—and anything else.

“Celeste.” His tone was gentle, and he smoothed her hair away from her face, tugging the tendrils over her shoulders. He cupped her breasts and leaned up to suckle, first one, then the other, creating splintering shards of awareness that manifested in her groin as his belly rippled against her thighs.

Taking her hand, he placed it on his cock and urged her to raise up, his other hand smoothing over her hip. Unfamiliar, she centered her body over their hands and he positioned his cock at her entrance. “Take your time. Go at your own pace.”

The head of his shaft slipped inside, eased by her natural lubricant as she cautiously lowered herself. Lysett drew their hands away and grasped her hips, supporting her. Inch by inch she took him deeper, filling her up until his sac brushed her buttocks.

On display and intimately impaled, her cheeks heated until she let herself meet his stare. That feral look was back, yet she sensed it was her who was in charge and wondered if he’d allowed it or it was because of the circumstance.

“Can you move? Ride me?” His questions emerged from between gritted teeth and she suspected he was barely holding on.

She wasn’t sure if riding him meant what he inferred, but she began to lift and lower herself on his shaft, experimenting with the depth. At first, she was able to focus on leaning forward and then back to increase the friction and found a rhythm that built delicious sensation. Once again losing herself, she strained toward release when Lysett sought out her apex and worked the knot of nerves with his thumb.

His forehead and upper lip glistened with sweat and his jaw clenched. Celeste sped up her movements, now choppy and frantic, and shuddered into a climax when Lysett drove upward to meet her. His face twisted in serene agony before he drew her onto his heaving chest, where she lay, dissolved.

Boneless and replete, she didn’t resist when he eased her onto the bed and tugged a covering over her.

“I’ll be back shortly.”
 

Chapter Eleven

The morning brought unanswerable questions for Lysett. Why had he brought her here? To his quarters? He hadn’t cared to breach her own space last night, understanding she required some privacy, but there were other places. Even the one with the breeding pallet…

His royal concubine slept, huddled in on herself beneath the bed linens, and he had no idea how he was going to return her to her own rooms without appearing callous. And did he even want to do so? He had hurt her so many times already, according to Bast—and his own conscience. A certain part of his anatomy twitched, suggesting Celeste remain exactly where she was for the foreseeable future, and Lysett tamped down his animal lust, unsuccessfully.

Gone was his determination to keep her at arm’s length and maintain a political marriage—he couldn’t stop thinking about her naked in his arms, and losing himself in her sweet body. Even now, though surely he should be replete after the number of times he’d woken her in the night to position her small form in every way imaginable… And how she’d received him without complaint, indeed with such passion that he had indeed lost himself in her. Clenching his fists, he made himself turn away.

He knew she was unhappy, her sadness simmering beneath the surface of composure, now he allowed himself to see it. And he acknowledged that perhaps he was the primary cause, having listened to Bast more keenly that his first servant was aware. Hence his effort to spend more time with her, regardless of the excuse he’d tried to give himself. Was he making things worse? She’d said she accepted their joining to beget an heir and maintained that distance herself. Last night—much of the night—hadn’t been about mere joining. He had craved her with such reckless need that he hardly knew himself and her pleasure had surely eased her sorrow.

Raking a hand through his hair, he considered the intimacy of what they’d shared. She had comforted him with her body, but he wanted more. He wanted the female Bast had described, without the burden he’d placed on her because of his grief. Lysett of the House of Daboort was known as a fair ruler, and the last thing he’d been to Celeste was fair.

She slept quietly, immune to his heavy thoughts, and he strode to the bathing room to cleanse and prepare for the day. He still couldn’t label this … thing between them and wasn’t certain she felt it as well but knew he had to work it out. He and his concubine needed to converse, and soon.

Emerging from his ablutions, wearing only a towel slung around his hips, he staggered to a sudden halt. His bed was empty, his gaze drawn there immediately. Only a jumble of covers suggested his concubine had recently slumbered there. He cursed under his breath. He should have woken her, cleansed with her… The thought of her small frame deluged with a stream of water while he drew the lather over her curves and her small hands caressed his own body— Lysett wrenched his carnal thoughts in a different direction.

Who knew what his concubine had thought when she roused and found herself alone? Did she regret the night in his bed? Was she fleeing from him and rebuilding her own walls? He frowned. How had she left his quarters? They needed to talk, now.

Snatching up a robe, he shouldered into the clinging fabric and settled it around his frame with another curse. Throwing open the door, he stalked the length of the corridors until he reached her room. As he rapped firmly, he was cast back in time to this very same behavior of that unfortunate night. Perhaps he’d never learn. When there was no response, he knocked harder and again received no reply. It vaguely registered that her guard was nowhere in sight, and his senses pricked.

“Celeste!” Was she ignoring him, or perhaps in her own bathing room? “Celeste!”

Pressing his palm against the sensor, he willed the panel to slide open more quickly. A yawning emptiness greeted him, and he quickly moved throughout the space. With no sign of her, he surmised she had gone downstairs to eat, or perhaps to the garden. But neither sat well. As disheveled as she was, Celeste would, at the very least, have changed and showered. He shoved away a sickening fear and called for a guard.

“Ruler.” A large individual instantly presented himself. “I am Vikte.”

“Where is Lady Celeste?”

The other male squinted. “Sir? I believed her to be with you.”

“Where is her personal guard?”

“Morat? He…” Vikte’s brow creased. “He has left. The primary saw him leaving with his belongings. Even those from his locker. I was assigned here. I assumed he was taking leave.”

A vast chill descended over him. While it froze his heart, his brain focused and sifted through Morat’s personal information. “Take She-at and attend Morat’s family home.” He rattled off the directions, though knew it was too simple. Morat would never go to ground with Celeste in such a familiar location. The thought of her small body bound and confined within the traitor’s travel duffle— “Go quickly!”

The guard moved swiftly, calling out for She-at, and Lysett turned on his heel to rush back to his quarters to dress, summoning Bast on the run. His first servant arrived, out of breath and clothing awry.

“Morat? How is this possible, Master? I assigned him myself and he welcomed the honor of guarding the royal concubine. There was no sign he was part of the resistance. He—”

“The purists don’t advertise, Bast. Get Ashtun here with troops we believe to be loyal. We have the inhabitants of a smaller House to interrogate.” He wasn’t going to think the worst. They wouldn’t want a martyr, so would likely be planning to make an example of his concubine. He nearly doubled over when he thought of the ways that might be achieved. Better she die than face the latter.

****

This was definitely not the Ruler’s quarters. Waking up in Lysett’s big bed earlier had been a surreal experience. Initially, she’d had no idea where she was, stretching languidly before the enormity of her situation burst upon her. A cautious peek ascertained she was alone, and she’d then taken note of the information her body was sharing. Her breasts were tender, the nipples chafed, and a blush washed up to color her cheeks as she remembered the feel of his mouth on her there. Usually clean shaven, the Ruler had sported faint stubble—and she recalled the sensation against other delicate skin, her blush intensifying.

The memory of her first night with him was something she’d wrapped up and stored away, only to take out and examine when she thought she might cope—and that had been never. There was no way she would be able to lock up the memories now. He’d engaged her full participation in unleashing this … this sexual need. It bordered on voraciousness because he didn’t even have to be in the room for her belly to clench with need and her sex to soften and swell. The mere thought…

She needed a bath. Not that Lysett hadn’t cleansed his seed from her following the myriad of times he’d— No, she couldn’t place the blame on his shoulders, at least not all of it.
They
had indulged in such pleasurable acts. She’d been a very willing participant, and if she wasn’t so embarrassed, she might take a curious pride in knowing little, inexperienced Celeste Raynor had made the Ruler groan with gratification. And he’d said things to her, albeit in his own language, but she understood enough Meridian to know they were tender things, maybe even loving things?

But it was the morning after, and no doubt he would go back to acting all aloof and royal as if
this
hadn’t happened at all. Until the next time… It was as though she were two people, and she somehow had to follow his example and keep them separate. Somehow. Her chest constricted and she struggled for air. There was no manual for her to follow insofar as her response went, not when it came to this. She couldn’t face him, at least not until she could rebuild the wall he’d effortlessly torn down.

Clambering to the edge of the bed, she had slipped to the floor, her toes curling against the cool tiles. Her dress lay strewn over a chair, and she hunted for her underthings. Finding only her panties, she struggled into them, her hands hesitating as her sex throbbed with delicious soreness. Had he put a child in her? After a tentative touch to her belly, she tugged her dress over her head and smoothed it down. Her breasts sat loosely against the fabric, but there was no help for it. Her room wasn’t far, and if she hunched a little and ducked her head, surely her guard wouldn’t notice.

He won’t be surprised. He knows you were in the Ruler’s bed.
Save her from her own thoughts. She’d fought another blush and hurried to the door, then heard the sound of water running in the bathing room. Unable to face Lysett before she could raise her shields, she had set her palm against the sensor, praying the system would recognize her. Nothing. She’d tried again, and stepped back in frustration—and the panel had grudgingly slid open to reveal Morat.

Her guard looked as surprised as she felt. His usually stoic face softened dramatically, and his eyes popped. She had thought it puzzling that he was able to access Lysett’s quarters but dismissed the vagrant thought as she managed her discomfiture.

“Lady Celeste.” Morat shifted awkwardly.

“Is there a problem? The Ruler is cleansing.”

Straightening, he’d adopted his usual demeanor. “Bast sent me. You are to be escorted to a safe place.”

“What?” She resisted his grip on her arm as he drew her into the hall and the panel shut behind her. “What’s happened?”

He had glared over her shoulder at the door, and she found it strange. “Bast will explain. He is on his way to converse with the Ruler. You are to come with me.”

“I need to cleanse and change.”

“There is no time, Lady.” His hold tightened and she had winced, studying his face. It hadn’t felt right.

“I want to speak with your master first, Morat.”

Something flashed in his other hand and he pressed it against her neck in a lightning move. A sharp, painful twinge had overpowered her senses and her body refused to obey her. The floor rushed up, but Morat dragged her roughly over his shoulder as everything faded out.

And now, waking for the second time, she was aware of his duplicity. He’d hidden his xenophobia fairly well, although perhaps this was about something else. She knew kidnappers wanted something in for returning their victims. Perhaps Lysett would see a value in ransoming her…

Celeste quit her maudlin whining. She had herself to depend on and began to explore her surroundings. As a prison cell went, it was clean, if Spartan, and boasted a narrow bed with a thin coverlet. There was a small adjoining room, and it held a toilet and sink. The only door out was locked, of course, and the window covered with some sort of impervious material. She tried to shift it, and while it seemed thin, there was no give. There was nothing she could fashion into a weapon either. So she had only her wits.

Taking a seat on the bed, she stilled her racing thoughts and refused to think about her present situation. It did no good to reminisce about last night either, so she immersed herself in happier memories of her family and succeeded in achieving a calmer state of mind.

She had no idea how much time elapsed before the door slid open and a male Meridian sauntered into the room. His flashy clothing and swagger didn’t compensate for his sloped shoulders or smaller stature. She’d thought all males on Meridia were cut from the same cloth, large and well made, but this man was a pale imitation. Not that she was comparing him to Lysett.

“Ah, the Earth female chosen as the royal concubine.” His sneer didn’t improve his appearance, and his glance swept over her as if she was nothing. She didn’t respond.

“You will rise in my presence. Or kneel.”

Considering the way his fist clenched, Celeste got to her feet. She didn’t have to look up at him, at least not any distance, and despite the situation, barely quashed a giggle. He preened like the bantam rooster who pretended to rule her yard, back when she had chickens. Her thoughts sobered quickly. Roosters weren’t known for their smarts. They had no appreciation of their size and sparred with anything they perceived to be a threat to their little kingdom. But she wasn’t kneeling for him.

“Your name.”

Surely he knew who she was? “Celeste Raynor.”

“I am Quentan of the House of Yehudda.” He said it as though she should recognize the name.

“I wish I could say it was nice to meet you.”

His eyes narrowed and he glared. “This is not a social occasion, Celeste Raynor. You are a whore and beneath my notice. You will serve one purpose only.”

“Excuse me?”

“I am aware of what humans who sell their bodies are called. My cousin infiltrated the envoys to your planet early on, and understands your culture. He supported your males in discouraging human females from even considering Lysett’s offer, but there were many of those females, such as yourself, who grasped the opportunity to avail themselves of our planet’s riches. By offering your bodies as trade.”

A
whore
? Maybe a concubine was just a glorified one? “I’m a concubine, like your female Meridians.”

A glancing blow spun her to crash upon the bed, and she scrambled to put some distance between her and this Quentan. Her cheek stung and her eyes watered. He advanced, glowering, and there was nothing but a narrow green ring surrounding his dilated pupils. He looked … crazy.

“Earth females are not concubines,” he shouted, spittle coating his thin lips. “The House of Daboort would pollute our bloodlines and contaminate our planet with mongrels. I won’t have it. My followers won’t have it!”