Alien General's Bride (Brion Brides 3)(17)

All that gave Diego pause, but Isolde didn’t seem overly upset. It was possible she hadn’t gotten to the parts that should have hinted at the truth yet, or she wasn’t clever enough to see them. Diego found himself hoping for the first one, somehow. He liked Isolde’s wit and didn’t think it would get past her.

“Commander,” Isolde said, putting the materials away, “I was trying to find out more about Rhea.”

The less you know the better, Diego thought.

Then Isolde’s tone changed. “Deliya said the other generals would catch us soon.”

“We are not really trying to escape,” Diego felt compelled to correct her. “I plan to meet them.”

“Of course,” Isolde said, fear plain on her face. “Brions meet their enemies face to face. I know that. But… there’s two of them. Are you not afraid?”

It was weird. Diego would have hated to see fear in any of his warriors, but this was different. Isolde didn’t seem to be afraid for herself, but scared for his safety. His every instinct called for him to take her in his arms and assure her he would return, but he didn’t want to ruin the moment when Isolde was so close to admitting she actually cared about what happened to him.

“No,” he said simply. “You should not be either. I have looked too long for you to let them take that away.”

He didn’t fully grasp the moments when he apparently did something very right, but they seemed to be connected to him telling the simple truths. Isolde’s soft green eyes went wide and warm, a fire burning in her for him. If only he could reach out and bury himself in that flame, he would be complete. All intentions about giving Isolde time and space kept failing – he would have to give up his title for this woman alone, when he hadn’t surrendered it to any of his enemies – and he couldn’t help catching her in a forceful kiss.

The green in Isolde’s eyes seemed endless, like she wanted to drown him in them. Nerves already on edge from the thought of the upcoming battle, Diego felt himself stir against her, the desire stronger than ever before. Isolde must have felt it too, but for once she didn’t protest.

“Commander,” the comm said.

Diego swore under his breath that one of these days he was going to disable all in-ship communications just so he could have five minutes of undisturbed time with Isolde. It was a wonder they functioned without his guiding presence at all. How did they not crash into a meteorite every time he slept?

“Yes,” he growled.

“They are here,” the bridge simply said.

Isolde, who had been giggling sweetly against his chest, went pale. Diego couldn’t blame her. It must have been scary to suddenly witness two huge warships looming over the Triumphant where minutes ago there’d been only stars, visible to them on the screen mounted on the outer wall of Isolde’s room.

Isolde searched for words, starting to speak several times and trailing off. “Don’t die,” she finally whispered.

“I have no such intention,” he said.

“I don’t think they do either,” Isolde replied.

Diego smiled. “Yes,” he said, “but I am grothan.”





CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Isolde



Isolde was left behind to compose the first part of the epic paper titled “Stupid Brion bravado and why it’s irresistible to women” in her head. Between paragraphs dedicated to the argumentative power of deep blue eyes and a voice that sounded like thunder, she had to wonder why she kept letting the alien warlord kiss her at his leisure.

With every caress, telling him a final no kept getting harder and less likely. Isolde would have dearly wished to know if there was a limit by which point you were obligated to marry the aliens you’d been leading on for too long, because the kisses were just that damn good and the muscles so hard under his uniform…

It was much better to focus on that and not the two ships sitting outside, surely staring at her. Helen of Troy had launched ten thousand ships and Isolde of Terra had so far managed to call only two to chase her, but then again, Helen’s hadn’t looked like they could house a small city – or a big one, to be honest. Looking at the ships, because there honestly didn’t seem anything else useful she could be doing, Isolde’s mind jumped to overcompensating jokes.

I mean, c’mon, I thought the Triumphant was big – no, don’t even go there – but these two… there has to be a point where building a bigger ship is just no longer practical. Wouldn’t it just be easier to reinforce a small moon and send it off to scare your enemies?#p#分页标题#e#

Truth be told, neither of the ships Isolde was eyeing with equal parts weary resignation and very actual dread had a reputation quite as fierce as the Triumphant. Bigger they could be, maybe even faster, which would partly explain why her general – Her? Really? – didn’t bother to run, but neither of them were commanded by Diego Grothan.

She would have to apologize to Deliya at some point, because a part of her felt proud. Any woman would be lucky to be his gesha, the Brion woman had said. And despite herself, Isolde was.

Even more in spite of herself, she was curious. She had never seen Brions fight, but judging from the way Diego spoke, it wouldn’t come to that. If no blood was to be spilled, she would have loved to see him handle the situation. In fact, shouldn’t she be present? It was about her, after all.

There was no way she could sneak out. This was not her ship, not even her species, and her guards weren’t chosen for their lack of eyesight. No, she’d have to convince them to take her to Diego. Perhaps some womanly convincing was needed? But judging from her brief previous experiences, she and Deliya had little in common as the Brion warrior was an accomplished officer, a warrior first and a woman second, even if she was oh so pretty… Annoyingly pretty. Damn her.

Isolde desperately tried to find an angle as she watched two carriers detach themselves from the looming warships and calmly make their way to the Triumphant. They could travel with no fear; the Brions considered space battles the lowest form of fight and resorted to them only when absolutely necessary. There was little honor for them to kill someone whose face they didn’t see, over distances so great they could have died minutes after the death shot was fired.

No, the Brions wanted to see the blood of their enemies and know they had won on their own. Isolde shuddered for a moment, wondering how likely it was that the Brion temperament would make an appearance at that meeting.

Then an idea came to her, so obvious she didn’t understand how she hadn’t thought of it before. She actually felt a little bad for Deliya.

Isolde quickly covered herself up better, though her clothes demanded a wash at some less life-threatening time, and rushed to the door. Deliya and Narath were both present, presumably the danger to her was at its peak with the twin generals at their door. She didn’t exactly startle them, but her request did.

“It is most unusual,” Narath boomed.

“Of course,” Isolde said. “But me being here is unusual to begin with. How many humans have even seen the inside of a Brion warship?”

Deliya seemed to hesitate. “The Commander did not authorize this. You would be safer in your room until this matter has been concluded.”

Now to the heart of things.

“I thought about how you said that a gesha should be proud to have him. But I don’t even know him yet, only what I’ve heard. Right now I could see him in his true form. I would see why they call him grothan.”

The look on the Brion woman’s face told her she had already succeeded, but to put a nail in that coffin, she coyly added, “Besides, I… worry.”

For a moment, Isolde feared she had ruined everything by implying she did not believe in his martial prowess, but she’d underestimated their understanding of cultural differences. Both looked at her as one might look upon an ignorant child. They exchanged a quick look, and then Deliya nodded.

“Very well. I will take responsibility. It would be good for you to see your gerion, to know that we do not lie. And you would see why we do not worry. Yes. This would do you good.”

As they led her through the corridors, still heavily guarded by both Deliya and Narath’s warriors, Isolde couldn’t help but feel victorious herself. Maybe she should be called grothan too. After all, it hadn’t been difficult to play at the warriors’ obvious love for their commander by implying they could help him connect with his gesha.

In her heart – the same old ticker that had made her speak in agent Perkins’ defense to one of the most dangerous men in the galaxy – she hoped that she didn’t get Deliya and Narath in too much trouble. Their orders were to guard her, after all. They could just as well do that somewhere away from her room. No harm done.

The arena seemed crowded to Isolde, but Deliya and Narath easily made their way through the Brions to stand at the front of a balcony looking down upon a very gladiatorial arena not of sand and scorching hot sun, but a floor of so finely polished wood that Isolde could make out the reflections of the Brions on the ground. At the front, Diego stood at ease, waiting. His eyed darted up to the balcony at the murmurs that rose when Isolde came forward. Even in the dimness that was natural on Brion ships, Isolde could make out several conflicting emotions flashing in his eyes one after another.#p#分页标题#e#