Bonded to the Alien Centurion Read online

  One thing was for sure, Latharians had some serious stamina. She’d had a few passion-filled all-nighters in her time, but last night blew them all out of the water. Insatiable wasn’t the word. He’d taken her more times than she could count, from hard and fast to so slow and gentle as they lay spooning on the bed. Just the memory made her shiver.

  “Like what you see, kelarris?” he asked, making her jump.

  He opened his eyes, the odd colors and feline-like pupils bringing it home to her that he wasn’t human. Right now, though, his eyes were wide and so dark, they almost looked human.

  “How long have you been awake?” she asked, feeling a little self-conscious and shy even though there was no need to be. He’d seen everything about her last night. “And what does that mean… kelarris? You called me that before.”

  “It means ‘beloved’ in my language.” He smiled and reached out to smooth her sleep-rumpled hair back from her face. “And I’ve been awake long enough to know my mate has been watching me. And you know what?” he asked, stroking his thumb against her lower lip. “I like it. And I like the way you look well loved, as a new mate should.”

  She blushed. She actually blushed.

  “Yeah, well. I wanted to talk to you about that.”

  His small growl warned her, her gaze flicking up to meet his. “I’m not letting you go, Dani. Not ever.”

  She hissed in exasperation, trying to yank her face from his grip. “Oh for heaven’s sake, Sardaan. One night is fine, but just look at us… It’s never going to work!”

  He didn’t let go, his grip on her jaw firm as he made her look at him. “Why not? It certainly seemed to be working last night.”

  She gave in. He was too strong for her to fight, and she favored him with a look. “Yes. You’re male. I’m female. We have compatible genitals. But… come on, how old are you? Mid-twenties?” She sighed. “I’m a little bit older than that. And I have a career… duties to get back to.”

  He blinked and then chuckled. “Is that it? That’s what you’re worried about? The age difference?”

  The heat on her cheeks intensified and she nodded. “Well, wouldn’t you? I know you guys don’t have many women, but there’s no need for you to saddle yourself with a woman who’ll be old when you’re in the prime of your life…” And she didn’t want to see him walk away or choose someone else.

  She ignored the little voice in the back of her head. It might be right, but that didn’t mean she had to listen to it.

  His hand slid into the back of her neck, strong fingers massaging gently. “Little mate, I’m older than you are, by a few years… and even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t care. You’re mine. End of story.”

  She couldn’t help the small snort of amusement that escaped. “Older than me? Sure, right. Have you looked in a mirror recently, handsome?”

  His lips broke into a smile. “You think I’m handsome? This is good. I like the fact my mate finds me desirable.”

  She shoved lightly at his broad shoulder as he pulled her closer. “Oh, get over yourself! Seriously Sardaan, I’m forty-two. You’re what? Twenty-five?”

  “Add another twenty.” His expression was amused at her reaction. “We age slower. So will you now. It’s a simple genetic patch.”

  “Patch? You make it sound like mending a fucking blanket!”

  “It’s about as simple. And I’m done talking,” he growled, his eyes darkening as he rolled over and yanked her under him in the same movement. His knee pressed between hers and in the next movement, he was inside her.

  “Oh!” she managed, thought processes cut off by the sudden movement. Then her toes curled, and her body wrapped itself around him automatically. Despite all the times he’d taken her the night before, she wanted more. Needed more.

  “Didn’t put you down as a morning sex type of person,” she murmured as he began to move. It was slow and languid, the pleasure of each stroke bubbling through her blood like the fizz in fine champagne.

  A moan welled up in the back of her throat, but she held it back. He didn’t need his head swelling any further. He didn’t need to know she was rapidly becoming addicted to him. Because she was, and it was going to hurt like a fucking bitch when she had to leave.

  “I’m an anytime sex kind of male when it comes to you,” he said against her ear, the soft brush of his lips against her earlobe as he thrust slowly sending shivers down her spine. “I want you. All the time. Even when I was sleeping, my dreams were of you beneath me, your pretty thighs parted in welcome as I plundered your sweet pussy… or you riding me, impaled on my cock with a look of bliss on your gorgeous face. I wish our races were telepathic so you could see how I see you. How much you fucking turn me on. You’re it for me, Dani. For as long as I live.”

  With each word, his thrusts got harder and faster, until the bed beneath them rocked against the wall again. Her moan escaped. What did her old life have that was better than this? Better than a guy who looked the way he did, crazy about her? Better than a guy from a society that mated for life, no cheating.

  Her climax was swift and all consuming. His name was on her lips as she shattered apart around him. He followed her within a few strokes, his cock jerking and pulsing within her to coat her inner walls with his white-hot seed.

  They lay together, each breath shared as they recovered from the slow, but intense coupling. He shivered, the movement passed onto her where they were still joined. His gaze locked with hers, reluctance in his eyes as he pulled free of her with a wet pop.

  “I have training,” he murmured almost by way of apology, and she saw the darkness reenter his eyes as he remembered Aariin.

  “Go,” she said softly, stroking his jaw. His stubble was significantly heavier this morning and the new information, that Lathar needed to shave just like human men, softened her even more toward him. They weren’t so different. Perhaps she could make a life here?

  “I’ll find you later,” he promised. “After training.”

  Was she really about to do this? Ask the Latharian emperor himself for help? Well, not in quite so many words, but that was what it amounted to. She needed his help to figure out a way she could stay here without feeling that she’d betrayed her own people.

  Dani shivered as she sat looking around while waiting for the emperor to see her. The room was as opulent as she’d have expected an antechamber in an emperor’s suite, with low, plush couches and fine wooden furniture that wouldn’t have looked out of place in any ancient palace on Earth. She assumed anyway. A colony brat, she’d never been to one, but she’d seen pictures.

  She’d been given a book on princes and princesses when she was a child. She’d loved to look through the pictures of castles and dresses, her childish imagination painting pictures… in her mind she’d been a lost princess, banished to the outer work colonies. Someday her prince would come and take her away from it all, bringing her family along as well. They’d all live in a fancy palace and have tea and cucumber sandwiches.

  Then age and reality had intruded. Her parents had been stolen from her by the Sweats that had ripped through the base. A bad vein of aurillium had been opened, a mutated virus decimating the workforce. She’d joined up the same day she’d been old enough, heading off base immediately. Princes be damned. She’d rescue herself, thank you very much.

  Now she was married to her own version of a prince. An alien one with silver hair and a sexy smile that melted her heart. She smiled to herself. Not that she’d admit that to Sardaan. His ego would get too big to fit through the door.

  A movement over on the other side of the room caught her attention and she looked up to find the emperor’s aide watching her. He’d been trying to conceal his interest since she’d arrived. Badly.

  He’d been a prick when she’d first arrived, questioning exactly why she wanted to see Daaynal. It seemed secretaries were the same the universe over. This one was just as much a guard dog as any admiral’s aide she’d ever met. Perhaps they bred them somewhere and then
released them when required.

  But this one was more than a guard dog. He was Latharian. Several times she’d caught him looking at her out of the corner of his eye as he sat at the desk, a couple of times without outright heat in his eyes. Like now. She leveled him a hard look and he looked away quickly.

  Sure, she might be human, but she’d happily kick his ass for him. And she was fairly sure if Sardaan knew he’d looked at her that way, he’d come and kick the guy’s ass as well. And she knew he could. The aide had a decent number of braids, but nowhere near the number Sardaan did.

  Pride hit her at the thought. She’d noticed that not many warriors had as many braids as her mate did. Maybe the healer, Isan. She suppressed the cold shiver rolling down her spine. There was something about him that scared even her, and she’d seen an awful lot of scary mofos in her time.

  Like that sergeant who’d gone loco during the Devershi campaigns and started collecting “trophies.” Ears. Lots of them. He’d killed a couple of officers before they’d caught up to him. She’d been there when the military police had brought him in and she’d never forget the look in his eyes.

  Isan wasn’t like that, but there was a look in his eyes and an awareness in the way he held himself… she’d rather go toe to toe with the ear-collecting sergeant than face down the healer.

  Idly, her gaze wandered over the guy at the desk. She’d noticed that while all the Lathar wore what appeared to be armored leather uniforms, they were all that slight bit different. At first she’d thought perhaps it was because they all purchased according to personal preference, but now she was starting to think it was more than that. None of them wore regimental or unit patches like Terran forces did, but she’d noticed that Sardaan’s group wore jackets with double piping and a diamond pattern stitched across the shoulders. The aide in front of her, one of the emperor’s group, had a black braid stitched into the shoulder seams of his uniform and vertical stitching. She frowned. Could the design itself be unit based?

  “Major General Black?”

  The deep voice a few minutes later surprised Dani into looking up from her study of her feet. She’d dressed in the leathers and boots Kenna had given her, Sardaan managing to rustle up a new t-shirt from somewhere. It was a couple of sizes too small, which had made his blue eyes dark with heat, but since she had no other clothes, beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  As she looked up, she met the steady gaze of the emperor. He watched her with interest and more than a little amusement.

  “Or would you three like a little more time alone?” he asked, nodding toward her feet.

  Dammit. Her cheeks burned. Bloody soundless Latharian technology. How long had he been standing there?

  “Sardaan K’Vass’ female does not have an appointment,” the aide broke in, shooting a look at her. His pinched expression clearly indicated what he thought about people without appointments. “But she insisted on waiting even though I told her you would be too busy to see her.”

  He looked at the emperor with a small smile, his expression so smug it was obvious he expected Daaynal to agree with him. “Should I tell her mate to make an appointment for her? I believe you have some free time in a few days…”

  He trailed off at the look Daaynal leveled at him. “You’re new. Aren’t you?”

  The man snapped to attention. “Yes, Your Majesty. Newly promoted from the Keral’Gentar.”

  Daaynal’s lips pressed together for a second, his expression unimpressed. “Then you need to get with the times. Human females are far more independent than ours were allowed to be. Major General Black is a leader among her people and I’m sure does not need her mate to speak for her. Am I correct?” he asked Dani, offering his arm.

  “Quite,” she said, sliding her hand onto the big warrior-emperor’s arm. He was charming, and that in itself was very dangerous. She had a feeling he was used to playing games, but with entire races, rather than just men.

  “Good, good,” he patted her hand as they walked through the doors into his chambers. “Now, how about you tell me what brings a newly mated beauty like yourself to my door…”

  12

  She walked into the rooms, her hand still on the large emperor’s arm. The slightly old-world formality of the Latharian culture was a little odd, but she was rapidly getting used to it. The luxury of the emperor’s apartments didn’t disappoint. She swept a gaze around, noting the larger-scale furniture and lush soft furnishings. The emperor obviously liked nice things.

  Her gaze scanned the room automatically and she stiffened at the sight of the big combat bot in the corner. Bigger than the ones in the corridor and a different design, it hunkered down like a malevolent metallic spider.

  “Don’t worry,” Daaynal said by her ear. “It’s deactivated. Perfectly harmless, I promise you.”

  “Really?” She couldn’t take her eyes off it as the emperor led her further into the room, twisting to keep it in sight. Sure enough, it didn’t move or track her like the other one had and there were no red lights in its “eyes.” “The others in the corridors have a pilot who keeps them on standby apparently.”

  She hadn’t figured out exactly how that worked yet, nor had she seen any warrior who she thought might be one of the bot pilots. She assumed the Lathar had a similar structure to Terran forces, with ground troops like Sardaan and his men with separate groups for air and space combat pilots.

  “Absolutely. It’s on a different protocol to the ship bots, solely centered around personal protection. It won’t activate unless there is a personal threat to me. Please, take a seat.” Daaynal indicated one of the huge couches set around a small, low table. On Earth she’d have called it a coffee table, but she had no idea what the Latharian equivalent was.

  “I guess I shouldn’t attack you with the fruit bowl then,” she said with a smile, as she perched on the edge of one of the couches. They were massive, obviously designed to hold men as large as Daaynal himself. If she sat back, she’d disappear into the cushions. Not a very dignified position when dealing with an emperor.

  Not when she wanted something from him.

  “No, indeed,” he chuckled. “That would probably not be the wisest move.”

  She tilted her head as he took a seat opposite her, elbows resting lightly on his knees and his strong fingers laced together. Although his rooms seemed to be filled with priceless antiques and expensive furnishings, the man himself was dressed like any other Latharian warrior she’d seen. And the fact he had more braids in his hair than Sardaan hadn’t escaped her notice.

  “What?” he asked, obviously picking up on her interest. His lips quirked up into a small smile. “Do I have something on my nose?”

  She couldn’t help but smile. Daaynal had a relaxed manner that put people at ease quickly—if you discounted the studied nonchalance in his big frame and ignored the tension and power coiled beneath.

  “No. I’m curious,” she admitted, sweeping a hand around them. “You have all this and still you dress like just a warrior…”

  His smile deepened. “I am a warrior. Like all the rest, I have to watch my back to maintain my position.” He leaned against the low back of the couch, arms spread wide. The movement had his jacket opening down the center, revealing a body that was honed and carved by physical training. “Perhaps more so… every male wants to be emperor. Few understand it’s not about the power. It’s about sacrifice as well.”

  The lonely note in his voice struck her and she looked at him. Really looked at him. There was a hardness there, and also a bitterness.

  “Would you walk away from it all?” she asked suddenly. “If you had the chance to?”

  “Draanth yes,” he replied instantly and then chuckled, looking away from her for a moment and lifting a hand to rub over his stubbled jaw. When he looked back at her, his green eyes were alight with amusement. “Are you sure you’re just a soldier, Major General? Because you’d make a damn good interrogator.”

  She chuckled. “Just a grunt, sorry.
I leave all that stuff to the professionals.”

  “Well… if you change your mind, I’m sure I can find a job for you on my staff.”

  There it was. The opening she was looking for.

  “Actually,” she said, leaning forward. “I did want to talk to you about a job, but not as an interrogator.”

  He didn’t move, watching her with an unblinking gaze. “Oh?”

  Dammit. He was going to make her spell it out, was he? She hid her frustration and simply met his intense gaze. If he thought that was going to overset her, he had another think coming. She was made of far sterner stuff.

  “I wanted to offer you an opportunity.” He didn’t speak so she carried on, but not quickly. She wouldn’t fall into that trap and put herself on the back foot. Instead her voice was measured and her gaze on his firm. She needed to come at this from a position of power, even though she really didn’t have one. Sometimes the illusion was all that was needed. “I wanted to offer you my help in understanding human culture and negotiating with my people.”

  “Why would I need that?” His expression didn’t alter, intent on hers. “I already have human advisors. My sister-sons’ mates are both human. Both bonded to Latharian warriors and happy to—”

  He stopped talking suddenly, his eyes narrowing. She had only a second’s warning as the lights went out in the room, plunging them into blackness. Instantly, her instincts and training when into high alert. She hit the deck, palming the dagger from her boot, as the sound of metallic clunking filled the room, the air right above her moving as something big and heavy flew overhead.

  A strange sound cut through the air, like it was being parted with something sharper than steel or light. The scuff of a boot danced with clicking like metallic spider feet. She held her breath as her heart jumped into her throat.

  The bot was active in the room. It had to be. Without being able to see, there was no safe place to run. She fought down the fear. It wasn’t after her. If it had seen her as a threat, she would have been dead as soon as she’d entered the room. Which meant there was someone else in here.