Quest For Earth (19 page)

Her favourite colour.

Deep inside her essence, something shifted.

Gave way.

‘Did you organise this?'

Maaka cleared his throat, shuffled his feet, and then folded his arms across his chest. His gaze skittered away from hers. He shrugged, staring at the wall above her head as if uncaring of her reaction.

Her eyes welled with tears. This man. This primitive specimen from a war ravaged planet had done something not one warrior from her technologically advanced civilisation had ever done.

He had picked flowers for her.

She placed shaking hands either side of his face, stood on tip toes and pressed a soft, lingering kiss onto his stubbled cheek. Her lips tingled.

‘Thank you.' She moved quickly away toward the pool, desperate to hide her reaction from his far too piercing gaze. So this was what he had been doing while she had tended the injured. Her bodyguard's warnings echoed inside her head. She thrust them aside. No matter Maaka's objective, the flowers spoke of a sensitive side she would never had guessed existed in such a war-like man. She would accept the gift at face value and worry later over his motives.

Besides, it wasn't as if she didn't have any ulterior motives at being here.

Sherise gathered her hair into a bunch and shook out the long strands. She tossed a grin over her shoulder.

‘This will be sheer bliss. Do you know how long it has been since I have felt actual water against my skin?' She hugged herself. ‘But first, I need to …?' She hesitated, unsure how to communicate her desperate need.

‘Aah. This way.' Maaka strode across to the opposite side. She hurried after him, peering around his body when he stopped before the entrance to a small, shallow cave.

‘Ugh.' Sherise surveyed with grim resignation the hole in the rock floor, the pile of fresh moss beside it. Left alone, she entered and made use of the primitive facilities.

When she returned to the pool, she found Maaka standing on the edge of the pool beneath the waterfall, eyes closed, back arched, his arms outstretched, enjoying the pulse of water pounding down the glorious length of his naked body.

She took a long minute, drinking in his pagan stance, knowing she would carry it with her for the remainder of her days.

He dove beneath the surface and emerged, blinking the water from his eyes, relaxed. He smiled.

She needed no further invitation. Sherise plunked down onto a nearby boulder. She tossed her medie satchel to one side. Soon her boots were off, her belt, her compu armlets. With her fingertip, she touched the intricate gold pattern that bordered the neckline of her tunic and hesitated. If she removed it she would be left wearing her skin suit. Once wet, it would leave nothing to the imagination. Or she could go in wearing nothing at all! No, that was not an option. She dragged the tunic over her head, shimmied over to the edge and slipped into the pool.

Cool water engulfed her grimy body.

It surged over her head, drifted through her hair, relieving her aching, tired body. It embraced her like a gentle lover, easing the despair she carried and gifting her with a brief respite from her cares. She reached out and grasped the ledge, taking a deep breath before submerging and swimming a few strokes underwater to re-emerge an arm's length from Maaka who floated on his back. A smug grin wreathed his face, blurring the hard edges. With his eyes closed, it gave him the expression of a predator content to lazily bide his time before springing on his prey.

She knew where this was heading and she still hadn't made up her mind; accept the temptation of a few stolen hours easing the needs of the flesh, or retreat and spend the remainder of the night alone.

She rolled her eyes, aware that a smile tugged at her mouth and retreated, relishing the silky glide of smooth liquid against her skin. A tentative probe with her foot at the sand beneath revealed she could stand without drowning, the water lapping below her chin.

Sherise leaned against the smooth rock sides and smothered a yawn. The cave was quiet and dim, engendering the illusion of peace and safety. Her eyelids were growing heavier by the minute and she shivered, the coolness of the pool beginning to chill her flesh.

As if he had sensed her discomfort, Maaka rolled over, dived under the water and emerged at the side of the pool. One lithe movement and he stood dripping, proudly naked, on the ledge. Unable to withdraw her gaze, she stared as if gravity held her captive while he closed the short distance between them. He crouched and reached a hand towards her.

No sooner had her fingers touched his, then he grasped her with a sure grip around her wrist and lifted her from the pool. Her knees shook with anticipation as she waited, wondering at his next move. Her eyes were fixed on the tender curve of his mouth, longing to feel those hard lips taking control of her yearning body.

But again, he confounded her.

Not yet.
She heard regret and heavy need in his words.

He brushed a fingertip over her parted lips, tracing the outline of their shape, before striding off to grab a woollen cover from a pile on the floor. He returned and draped the blanket around her shoulders, pulling it tight across her chest and enveloping her in instant warmth. He looped his arms under her knees and carried her a few paces to lower her with a careful touch onto the furs.

Sherise tucked her chilly feet under the thick wool, burrowing her toes into the thick fibres. Light blossomed in her heart when he sat beside her and grabbed a fur, placing it over his shoulders.

‘Warmer?'

‘Yes, thank you.'

‘Good.' A wicked smile split his face. ‘It will not do for the mother of my sons to sicken before she can bear my seed.'

‘You … you …' She struggled with the urge to laugh, unwilling to show how much in tune with him she felt. She settled for glaring at him instead, not daring to admit how the amusement glowing like purple stardust in his eyes dissolved her irritation. Unable to resist, she chuckled.

‘The sound of your happiness lightens my soul.' Maaka placed a large hand over his chest, his gaze intent on her face.

He sounds so serious. What if his attentions are more than a strategy to gain our allegiance? Could he really care?
Troubled at how she longed to know the true state of his heart, she wrenched her eyes aside. Fire heated her flesh like a fever as she recalled the feel of his rough skin, the weight of his body pressing her down. Her brother would never countenance such a union. But her brother was not here.

By the stars, what I am thinking? At best, this could only ever be a one-off sexual encounter. And the last thing I need is to fall with child to a barbarian I may never see again.

She straightened and raised her chin, groping for the threadbare mantle of her royal status.

‘We will eat.' Maaka indicated the platters. The sudden coolness in his voice told her he had read her mind. With the courtesy she had come to expect from him, he offered her choices of food before seeing to his own needs. He poured amber liquid from a jug into clay beakers and proffered one.

She sniffed at the contents, inhaling a fragrant mix of spices and a scent which made her think of warm, toasty bread. She sent a questioning look in his direction.

‘Mead. We use it for both food and drink.'

‘It is wonderful.' Sherise licked the last spicy drop from her lips, enjoying the warmth spreading down her chest and into her belly.

The platters held varied selections of roasted meat and root vegetables. Her mouth watered at the sight of a pastry type confection sprinkled with nuts and dripping with wild honey. She hesitated, worrying for a moment about how quickly she put on weight, and then shrugged. She devoured whatever was offered.

Maaka inspected the platter containing the meat as if he searched for concealed weapons. He bent over, his bold nose a mere centon from the contents and sniffed. A faint exclamation of relief passed his lips and he edged the plate closer.

She picked up a piece of meat and chewed with relish. What had he been looking for? It tasted fine to her; succulent and moist, with a tart minty-pine flavour.

‘What plant seasons this meat?'

‘It is a herb called rosemary that has been used for many centuries past on my planet. It has many uses, some medicinal and some spiritual.' He picked up a small twig with narrow grey-green leaves and twirled it between his fingers, tapping it against her wrist then each of her fingers. Amusement crinkled lines at the crease of his eyes as he smiled; a long, slow, curving smile that caused a jitter of sensation to arc through her body leaving her weak and hot. ‘It also ensures the affection of a loved one.'

She gulped and snatched her hand away.

Choked.

He thumped her helpfully on her back.

‘Enough. Thank you.' She glowered at him. ‘We need to establish the parameters here. For the last time, please get it through your thick head that I am not, nor will I ever be, your mate.'

A deep line appeared between his brows and his jaw jutted. ‘Your continued refusal to accept my claim displeases me greatly. You have told me you have no mate and I need sons. I see no need for any objection.' He flung his head back, annoyance bouncing off him in waves of dark energy.

The torches spluttered in their braces. Shadows danced with wild abandon across the cave walls. Even the rhythmic fall of water seemed muted.

For the first time, Sherise became fully aware of how alone they were in this small cave so far from the Hall. Perhaps it had not been a good idea to dismiss her bodyguard, but Maaka's arrogant assertion fired her blood.

‘There is more to a union between a man and a woman than expediency. There must be mutual connection of the mind and the heart. I could never accept anything less.' She met him, glare for glare.

‘We share that connection.' He leaned closer, his gaze searing into hers.

‘An animalistic desire to mate is not what I'm talking about.' She tossed her head. ‘I am not of your world, nor do I intend to remain here. This discussion ends here.'

He bared his teeth. They gleamed white in the gloom and she quivered inside.

‘I will have my way. As the leader of my people, no one disobeys my decree. Especially those under my protection.' He nudged her chin and scanned her face, his previous anger banked. ‘It has not escaped me how easily you issue orders. Nor have I missed the alacrity with which they are obeyed by Kondo and his men. And yet you say you are a speaker of languages and have implied your role on your ship as similar to many others.'

When she remained silent, he continued, ‘A woman of many talents who stands and fights, who has knowledge of healing and does not flinch from the smell and sights of the aftermath of battle.' He released her chin and smoothed a hand over his head, all the while his gaze not leaving hers.

She hoped he could not discern the frantic beats of her heart while she sought for some explanation which would satisfy him. Should he learn of her status, he might be tempted to imprison her and trade her for the weapons he so obviously needed. Her lips parted but before she could speak, he placed a finger on her mouth.

‘I do not desire to hear any more lies. Until you can tell me the truth, do not speak of these matters. I will form my own opinion.'

Anger spiked. ‘You speak of lies and yet you practise deceit with me. You want our help with your war. That is the true reason why you are so kind to me.'
By Cercis's cloak, I should have held my tongue.

With an expression as regal as any Darkon warlord, he removed his hand and indicated the cooling food. ‘You sound very certain of yourself. Then by all means, believe what you will of me. But know this, Sherise, you will be mine. Now, you must eat and then rest.'

More than a little frustrated, Sherise reached for the pastry. She wanted to rant at him, drag the truth from his mouth, but she had the sense to realise now was not the time.

An edgy tension simmered from him that seemed to play havoc with her own barely restrained needs. She frowned at the sight of her fingers trembling as she fingered the sticky sweet.

‘I am glad to see you enjoy your food.' His cool and impersonal voice steadied her nerves.

He was not the only one who could do cool.

‘I like eating far too much, especially anything sweet.' She patted her rounded belly.

‘Why is this a bad thing?'

Her gaze met his before jerking away. There had been nothing but admiration and a predatory hunger in Maaka's eyes. It had not escaped her notice that the women of this world were also built on sturdy lines, with well-developed bodies similar to her own. Albeit, the Freeber women were of smaller stature. She chewed the flaky pastry, enjoying the crunch of nuts and the smooth molten glide of warm honey. These women were nothing like the leanness she admired so much in her brother's wife or the petite body of her friend. They were pretty too, some with near perfect features and all with glossy, long hair.

Strange, how he had no mate. Or had he chosen a woman to be his life partner, only for her to fall prey to the hardships of this world? Was that why he was so insistent on claiming her? Did he believe, since she was not of this world, she would be stronger? Capable of bearing his longed for sons?

She stared at her platter and wiped her finger over the last dribble of honey before popping it into her mouth, but the sweetness turned bitter. The idea that he may care for another woman twisted her insides with sharp, stabbing needles.

I am jealous.
The realisation slammed into her. She dropped the platter and glanced up to find his heavy-lidded eyes fixed on her mouth. His lips parted, the edges of his features sharply delineated with the force of his stare.

A million flymoths swarmed inside her belly. Her intention to keep him at bay vaporised. Her toes curled tight amongst the wool and beneath her damp skin suit, her nipples tightened as her breasts swelled with a throbbing need. She leaned forward, her gaze riveted to his strong face, her hands trembling in their aching desire to touch every centon of dark-gold skin that still glistened from the pool. She pulsed with want as she imagined all that hard, heavy heat pressing into her.