Ask For It (2 page)

Neither of his brothers had found a compatible female yet. It was becoming apparent that their line was the next genetic casualty. She could be Leonor’s only hope for another generation of rightful kings. An honor she didn’t want. A responsibility he might have to require of her.

It was certain she wouldn’t choose him, so he’d been avoiding the discussion. He was sure he couldn’t watch another brother take her to his bed. He hadn’t killed the first one to do it, but the thought had been too close for comfort.

Chapter Two

“Are you hungry? Do you need refreshment?” Providing for her was his responsibility as head of her family, but he did it to delay whatever was going to come out of her mouth next. He didn’t expect her to accept the offer of food. Doing so would mean allowing him to feed her. It was one thing to let him near her and quite another to sit on his lap and take food from his fingers. She had explained that in great detail three years ago.

“No, thank you,” Sahara declined. “I don’t want to take up much of your time. What I want to ask is a simple thing.”

Tor seriously doubted that. The dark gold of his tail around her ankle tightened momentarily but the tufted end did not stop caressing her.

“I’d like to take some of the money from my maintenance account,” Sahara started, “and set up a scholarship fund to support medicine men studying at medical facilities off planet.”

Tor went over the words in his mind to make sure he had heard her correctly. She was talking about money, not personally leaving the planet. That was the good news. The bad news was she wanted to fund a program that would be offensive to his people. The medical community on Leonor considered itself more advanced than any other in the galaxy. Pride ran deep in any Leonor activity, especially skilled pursuits.

Dragging his eyes off her to make it look as if he were considering her proposal as he shifted closer to her, Tor debated his response. If he invited her to explain her plan it would prolong her voluntary presence. If he tried to explain the cultural ramifications of what she was suggesting she would still be here a while but she’d be mad and probably take herself across the room from him.

“I assume you have a plan,” his low voice invited her to explain.

And there it was. He was going to be a selfish bastard. She obviously suspected resistance to her plan. Why else the charming smile and close proximity to him? So why not let her work her wiles on him? He hoped she’d try influencing him, a lot. She could do that as long as she wanted.

He had no control of what she wanted, but he couldn’t bring himself to point that out. It would be up to individuals to accept or reject the little desert flower’s ideas. Not even a high king could mandate participation in such a program.

Sahara leaned toward him, her hand resting next to his thigh as her eager face turned up to explain. Tor maintained eye contact as he leaned back into the cushions and stretched his arm along the back of the sofa. Appearing to be listening to every word, most of his senses were taken up with enjoying her.

Having to inject reasonably intelligent comments into her plan was no problem for a warrior adept at the planning and organization of intergalactic campaigns. He could do that and soak up the energy vibrating out of her. He indulged the invasion of her scent as it entered his body with every breath, fanning embers of a white-hot flame that had never gone out. His tail circled her calf, wrapping around twice now.

She did have an interesting premise, but it was the end of her argument that got his attention in a big way.

“And what will happen when I have a baby? We have no idea how combining two physiologies will affect a female. So you see, we need medical people who are aware of the medical advances in the rest of the galaxy. I realize this suggestion will not meet with much support to begin with. But when people see lives saved, I think they will come around.”

“A baby? Whose baby are you having?” Tor demand as his body straightened. His hand left the back of the couch to slide under her heavy fall of golden curls and grip her neck.

“I’m not pregnant. But I’m not ignorant of my position. If I’m compatible, then other out-worlders might be as well. And it’s very possible that I will conceive in the future. I’m a bit concerned,” Sierra responded with an irritated edge to her voice.

Tor was frowning at the little woman meeting his gaze. Even seated he towered over her. For once she hadn’t flinched away from his touch. Didn’t attempt to evade the very personal touch of his tail imprisoning her leg.

“I can’t believe you haven’t considered this,” she said as she regarded him. “Think about the difference in most humanoid species compared to Leonor’s inhabitants. Your children are born with the ability to extend claws. They are also physically large. Surviving a single pregnancy will probably be an issue for me. I’d like to think it’s one for you as well since a child of mine would be closely related to you or yours.”

“Yes,” he allowed as he relaxed once more. His hand remained loosely holding the back of her neck, the pads of his fingers stroking lightly. So she wondered if he thought of her carrying his baby? The only time he had stopped thinking of that event was the moment she chose his younger brother to husband. Battling the temptation of harboring the thought had taken up the entire two years of her short marriage.

“Did you not find a solution to this with your husband?” Tor asked in a low rumble. Striving to appear casually interested, he asked a personal question about her relationship with his brother. Guilt hovered around the edges of his mind. He had no business asking.

“Those considerations have no bearing on what might happen in the future,” she answered smoothly.

Tor raised a brow but didn’t press her to explain. It was a pointless question, she was right about that. What he should be focused on was the fact she had just agreed to have his child. Not in so many words, but certainly in implication and intention. That conclusion was reinforced by her acceptance of his proximity and touch.

Carefully he schooled his features to remain nonthreatening. Shock had little time to shake him as roaring instincts demanded attention. Sahara would be beneath him before the sun came up tomorrow. She’d be on top of him and in front of him as well. Her taste would mark his fur and he was very sure she’d have trouble walking in the new day. That was okay. He’d carry her anywhere she wanted to go.

Fiercely aroused, Tor was determined to stalk carefully as he mentally circled her. Regardless of his response to her, there were other issues that had to be addressed. Why was he suddenly uncomfortable with her abrupt about-face? Because he was a suspicious bastard by nature and none of this made sense. Tor remained half reclining as he worked through her conclusions. It didn’t add up.

“Why now, Beloved?” he inquired with just the right hint of casualness to keep her unsuspecting of his intention until he voiced it. “What has changed? Why are you allowing me to touch you while you spend a long time tiptoeing around informing me you want my baby?”

Stripping away the immaterial information, Tor attacked. He knew when he was being manipulated and was willing to take it from her, but only to a point. He was also certain there was something she wasn’t telling him. Something he needed to know.

Her body jerked at his blunt questions. He felt the pulse on her neck flutter, but her pretty face held its smile. Her determination gave him a chill. It was bone-deep control. If she didn’t choose to tell him the truth, he’d never know it. Of that he was certain.

“Time is running out.” Sahara’s voice was calm but she glanced away.

“Burke and Nearrid are young. They have many years to search before giving up,” he countered.

“And you? Do you seek anymore?” Sahara pressed, returning her gaze to his face.

“I have had little time to devote to it,” he evaded her question.

Sahara focused on the ornate desk across the room, giving him her profile. “Do you intend to continue? Are the last five years simply a break for you?”

Finally they were down to it, asking each other questions that mattered. The problem was, he did not understand how they mattered to her. Experience told him that he had fundamentally misread her in some way. A way that mattered more than anything else to this woman. She had rejected him and everything about him for reasons he’d spent four years and eleven months trying to figure out.

He’d decided it had something to do with her culture. A culture he had no way of investigating. His transport’s accidental crash on that moon was the first contact with her civilization. What they found was a harsh environment and even harsher inhabitants. Mysterious and violent, the people of that moon were a complete unknown to him. The only reason he and his men escaped was because she assisted them.

Why she did was as unclear now as everything else about her. Even her name was one Tor had given her. She learned his language and accepted the name without question. At first it appeared she was completely comfortable entering a warrior society.

She learned enough of his language to speak in full sentences in under a week. Knowing she was physiologically compatible with him made him lazy. He’d assumed she would assimilate everything else just as effortlessly as the language. By the time he realized something had gone terribly wrong it was too late and his beautiful little desert flower publicly declared she would accept his youngest brother as husband.

“No,” Tor stated in a low growl. No longer indolent, he leaned toward her. Muscles rippled under the fur down his chest, straining the gold medallions holding the leather vest together.

She was asking for the truth and he’d give it to her. “I found my female. For twenty-three days she didn’t leave my side. Then she chose my brother. I haven’t continued searching because while my brother lived I had no heart for it. Since his death I have lusted after his widow,” Tor finished. His tail was now looped around her leg three times. Briefly claws extended from his fingers to graze her neck, retracting quickly.

“I’ve spent the last four years and eleven months trying to figure out why that is. Tell me, Sahara, why didn’t you choose me? Why, after lying in my arms every night until we reached home, did you leave me? Explain it to me.”

She remained facing forward. Her body wasn’t exactly stiff, but the flutter of her pulse he’d felt had been firmly repressed. It occurred to him that she possessed involuntary function control far greater than his own. Right now his heart pounded in his chest as his instincts flashed to the surface. Calling her his woman was the truth. Doing it out loud confirmed what he’d known from the moment his arms closed around her.

Lifting her out of the rubble of an obliterated town, he’d known what she was in the same moment. She’d been cradled in his arms the first time he’d seen her eyes.

A smooth-skin, he’d expected her to have difficulty with his form. His people proudly shared many physical characteristics with the feline world of their distant ancestors. His large head fit the heavily muscled over-seven-feet-tall body beneath it. His face was framed by a thick mane his people choose to leave wild as opposed to taming it with some sort of style as most humanoids did. His nose and muzzle were more feline than not, as were the pronounced canines in his mouth. A coat of short, smooth fur covered his body. Hands and feet, fully humanoid, came with built-in weapons, retractable claws that were naturally sharp and kept that way as a matter of pride. Leonor often referred to themselves in feline terms, affectionately calling their children kittens or cubs.

However, the most distinctive difference was the one humanoids usually saw last. The Leonor tail. Like their cat relatives, a Leonor’s tail was individual and functional. Much information was both gathered and broadcast via that expressive appendage.

She’d opened her eyes and there had been no fear in them. No scent of fear from her body. Somehow that had meant a lot to him. He had not allowed another in his party to touch her.

Not yet the high king, he’d still been next in line for the throne. His men were understandably concerned at being stranded on an unknown moon that was apparently in the middle of a bloody war. The events that landed them there had first been viewed as a series of disasters. He’d stopped feeling that way the moment he’d sensed her.

Being a Leonor warrior meant many things, but mostly it was about strength in all things. Strength was mental, physical and very importantly, emotional. Training started when they could walk. The fierce warriors they became were necessary to keep the territories under control, especially for princes. However, there was no male so tender as a Leonor warrior with his female. Trained to kill while appearing immobile, a male had to be especially careful with a female. Were he to accidentally injure her, he might lose his family’s future. That was the reason warriors told each other.

“You gave me away,” Sahara stated casually, meeting his eyes as if this recounting of old news was of no importance. “I accepted it and moved on.”

“What?” Tor just barely kept the roar out of his voice. “Gave you away? What the drednell are you talking about?”

“Do not yell at me. You could hardly wait for your brothers to take me off your hands.”