TICEES (11 page)

“Well, look at him—his recovery has been nothing short of miraculous, due to your attention, no doubt. And that same glow that you see plastered all over Fremma’s face is all over my successor’s. So obviously I must be missing something, and I have decided that my lack of attention from you has been due to my mis-colored hair.”

Fremma chuckled, shaking his head at Dar. Chelan pouted at him. “Ah, my poor blonde Warlord. And what is it that you would have me do to remedy the situation?” she asked, her voice scintillating.

Both Fremma and Dredon craned forward in eager anticipation of Dar’s answer. But Chelan became nervous. She could see the well-hidden desire beneath his azure eyes, and she could feel it transmitted to her through their body contact. And then suddenly, for reasons she could not explain, she feared the massive man. She quivered, realizing that he could easily order Dredon and Fremma from the room. Then his piercing blue eyes redirected her anxiety. Instantly, she realized that it was Korba she feared for, not herself.

Fremma’s blood cooled. Unlike Chelan, he had no trouble pinpointing the source of his own concern. And he could tell by the rigid stance with which Chelan held herself that she had come to the same conclusion. Fremma feared for his Commander’s life.

Chelan finally took the initiative to break the deadlock and cut through the stifling tension. “No answer deserves no response, my Lord,” she uttered, her voice as level as she could manage. Her muscles slumped with relief as she watched a small smile traverse his lips.

“A well-timed visit by you someday to RIBUS 8, my Lady, and I will explain the remedy I require.”

Chelan bit her bottom lip and looked up at him through her thick lashes. But she noticed the deep pain behind the private eyes, and her heart gave a telltale thud. She kissed him warmly and then signed to him out of sight of Dredon and Fremma. She would indeed attend him someday, and instantly she saw his eyes regain their fire. “Maybe,” she teased quietly. “But don’t hold your breath.”

Dar chuckled, and the icy atmosphere thawed. He released her and then turned to Fremma. “Well, until then, I guess I’ll just have to behave myself.” He glanced at Chelan. “Actually, I came here to say that I am returning to RIBUS 8 immediately, and that future communications between you and Dredon will have to be made through Fremma. You can come here in the morning when Korba leaves the Command Center, and Fremma can page Dredon from here, if that is all right with everyone?”

Chelan looked into Fremma’s unreadable face, and he nodded his silent approval, as did Dredon.

“Good,” said Dar, looking at Chelan and kissing her forehead. “Take care of yourself, my Lady, and of Fremma also. And I know I don’t have to tell you to take care of our friend Korba. I can see that you are more than proficient at that. I’ll take my leave now and see you all again soon, probably at the Koll.” Dar acknowledged each of them separately and strode out.

“’Bye,” whispered Chelan longingly to his back, a piece of her heart leaving with him.

All were silent momentarily while Chelan recovered her composure. Then she turned and faced Dredon. “Well, are you ready for more work?”

“Yes, my Lady,” he smiled. He hesitated momentarily, still in awe of the alien beauty and the attention she commanded from three such great men. Jarring himself back to reality, he brought the assembled pieces to her for fitting.

Fremma watched with pleased surprise as Chelan automatically slipped her gown to her hips, allowing Dredon to fit the piece to her velvety skin. She was finally becoming at ease with herself, he noted, a little too easily, he then decided, as his loins gave him a familiar jolt at the sight of her exposed body.

Dredon was feeling the same stirrings as he smoothed the garment over her and checked it for fit. But his feelings were kept in close rein by the presence and intense gaze of his superior officer.

For the first time, however, Chelan was totally unaffected by the intimate touch of the man’s hands. Her mind was intent on the Koll and on the effect she hoped to have on her beloved mate as she joined him in her new gown. When Dredon was finished, she slipped casually back into her own dress and floated over to Fremma. She smiled at him as she maneuvered carefully onto his lap, his arms automatically surrounding her.

Dredon looked to her. “Do you wish to do the final binding, my Lady, or shall I?”

Chelan thought about it for a moment, looking at the beautiful material held gently in his capable hands. “No. You do it, Dredon, if you don’t mind. This is no time for me to be practicing with a laser.”

Dredon smiled and nodded to her. Then with ease and skill beyond description, the man began the final gown assembly as Chelan and Fremma watched with fascination.

Soon most of the gown was complete. Dredon rose and held the garment up. “Final fitting,” he called, “before the last details, of course.”

Chelan stood slowly and moved in front of the gown, almost afraid to touch it. Gingerly, she took it and walked into the en suite. She slipped out of her dress and donned the new one, feeling it hug her body like a glove as she fastened the back along an invisible seam. She slid her long fingers down over the smooth fabric, her delight nearly to a fever pitch. Then, holding her breath, she moved to the mirror, and a broad smile graced her lips. She turned and looked at the back; the gown gave her an air of regal elegance tempered by an all-around delicate femininity, a look beyond even her own imagination. Then she rose to her tiptoes, the pooled hemline rising with her and the full effect achieved. It was stunning.

Chelan moved back toward the bedroom and saw Dredon sprawled on the floor and Fremma reclined in his chair, both engaged in idle conversation. She looked down at herself one last time, took a deep breath, and stepped out into the suite.

Both men looked up at the same time, and both their faces registered the same awestruck expression. Fremma was the first to move, and he stood slowly. Dredon followed, picking himself up off the floor awkwardly.

Chelan flowed toward them, and then, holding her arms out, she turned full circle. Fremma was still speechless. The ruched pink material hugged her ample curves, the sleeveless gown enticingly low over her breasts in a sweetheart neckline.

Fremma’s mouth went dry, and he swallowed hard as he took a tentative step toward her. The fitted bodice smoothed over her slim, curvaceous hips. The skirt was voluminous, hanging in long, flowing gathers, adding an additional subtle hint of seductive femininity.

Chelan moved again, the train kissing the floor and spreading out behind her, dutifully following her elegant footsteps. Chelan stopped in front of them and curtsied, bowing her head demurely. “Does it befit me, my dear Fremma?” she asked quietly.

Dredon’s eyes snapped to Fremma’s, but both warriors were mute. Fremma watched her, and he shook his head. “You are beyond words, my Lady,” he whispered. His eyes moved up and down her slender torso, settling momentarily on the beautiful cleavage tantalizingly exposed. His gaze flickered to hers. “The first thing that comes to mind … is the extreme security problem you are going to create upon your entrance.”

Chelan smiled and turned to Dredon. “Well, it’s your masterpiece, too. What do you think?”

“Oh no, my Lady. I refuse any credit. I was only a tool in the construction. After all, it is you who makes the gown so beautiful. It is you that is the masterpiece.”

Chelan immediately blushed and looked down at the floor while she collected herself. Then she glanced through her thick lashes at Fremma. “Are you people trained to say the right things at the right time, or is it innate? Your ability to flatter time after time is nothing short of incredible.”

Fremma shook his head, smiling. “No, my pretty woman. We only flatter where flattery is due, and only a fool would behold you in that gown and not comment on your beauty. As you can see, Dredon is no fool.”

Chelan squirmed again, the flush across her cheeks deepening at Fremma’s comment. Then her deep brown eyes met his. “Oh, Fremma, the back of the gown is so beautiful, and my hair covers it too much. When you used to train me, you always put my hair up so nicely. Will you do that for me?”

Fremma stepped around her and looked at the back of her gown. The soft pink material was cut low, the opening tapering to a smooth curve at her lower back. “The gown is lovely, Chelan, but so is your long hair. I would not dare to bind it.”

“Oh no, Fremma,” she corrected. “I would just like the sides drawn up and centered down the back, just so it stays off my shoulders and reveals a bit of the gown.”

Dredon watched with curiosity as Fremma approached her. He separated out the long locks of hair at the sides of her head and drew them up. Then expertly he sectioned out a long strand with which to bind them. When he was finished, he allowed the long pieces of hair to fall gracefully down the center of her back.

Chelan turned and skipped to the en suite mirror. “That’s perfect,” she cried. She peeked back out at Dredon. “What’s next?”

“That’s up to you, my Lady. I’ll bind all the exposed edges with the laser if the length is appropriate, and then you can begin the decorating if you wish.”

Chelan smiled and stepped out of sight of the men to remove the gown. She slipped back into her white gown and returned to them. She handed the dress to Dredon. “Could I start tomorrow?”

Dredon nodded. “I will be finished well before then, my Lady, and I will have the sequins with me. I also have your shoe design, and I will see what I can do with it.” With that, the warrior dutifully gathered up all his equipment, bowed, and left.

Chelan turned to Fremma; his features were alight. “The gown is resplendent. You are truly enchanting, my Lady,” he commented softly.

Chelan stepped up to him, taking his lips briefly. “Thank you. But now, I believe it is time for you to get some rest.”

Fremma smiled and nodded obligingly. “I know you are right. The long day has indeed taken its toll.” He turned slowly and followed her to the bed.

Chelan watched him carefully and noted with relief that his right arm commanded much more freedom. Then she smiled to herself as she threw the blankets from the bed. She knew they had been there for her sake, and Fremma would have no need of them. She pulled down the sheets. “Tonight,” she said firmly, “you’ll get into bed properly, and stay there.”

Fremma chuckled and shook his head at her, but before he could protest, she reached for his jacket and began to gently remove it. Fremma stiffened slightly to her touch, and he watched her as she moved her pretty hands to his pants. Sensuality oozed from her, and the love Fremma felt for her welled up in his heart. She pushed on him gently, and he sat on the bed as she completed his disrobing.

Chelan could sense his wanting, but she was adamant about remaining aloof until he was much better. She had been the reason for his original injury, and there was no way she was going to be an accomplice to any further pain. She pushed on him again, urging him back onto the pillows, and then pulled the sheets over him. She sat gently on the side of the bed and smiled down at him. Her long fingers brushed the sides of his face, her touch tranquilizing him, his eyes becoming heavy. Chelan kissed his forehead gently, noticing that his face was a picture of contentment. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she whispered.

“Tomorrow,” he acknowledged, and Chelan left.

The rest of the week went quickly for Chelan. She spent most of her days in the company of Fremma while she meticulously attached the lace and sequins to her gown. Every evening she returned to the Command Center and to her cherished Korba, attentively loving him through the nights and into the early mornings.

By the end of each day, Korba’s desire to be with her was unquenchable, his body and heart thirsting for her with an anticipation that rendered him feverish. Although he was well aware of her time spent with Fremma and their intrinsic friendship, a sense of foreboding coupled inextricably with his need slashed through him just before he returned each evening. He knew that despite all his people’s ways and the sexual freedom he had willingly granted Chelan, he would be rocked to his core upon his return if he found her anywhere other than in his bed.

He had struggled with his feelings of possessiveness in an attempt to dilute the alien sensations of jealousy. But he had finally succumbed to the irrevocable conclusion that his struggle was futile. The turbulence within him was unyielding and defiant. He simply worshiped everything about her. He wondered if his intense feelings were because of her vulnerability and his all-consuming need to shelter her from harm and pain, and ultimately, from other men. But despite all his acumen, he could not pinpoint the true source of his feelings.

His decision not to interfere with her pursuits with Fremma had indeed become a bleak one, but he knew that denying her Fremma would only instill in her a deep sense of guilt and the perception that she had been disloyal. In turn, Korba shifted his attention unwaveringly toward attending his provocative and sensual temptress, smothering himself and the troublesome ache within his chest with her innocent and devoted love, burying his body within her willing and eager flesh. She was his beating heart.