Alien General's Bride (Brion Brides 3)(9)

“Then explain to me why you don’t listen.”

“I tried before. You don’t understand.”

Perhaps he really didn’t. He knew she was his gesha, his fated. It was easier for him. He decided not to press it further. For now.

“Very well. Maybe there will come a day when we understand each other.”

She looked like she didn’t believe him, but that was fine. He had time.

In the meantime, talking was fine. There was something in her voice that made him want to just listen to her speak. He asked her about humans and let her talk and wander off to irrelevant topics, enjoying the music her lips made. Even if he longed to hear that voice make music to him in bed, he could wait, it would be worth it.

He himself seemed to have a similar effect on her. When he spoke, he could see her eyes cloud over, the way her head unconsciously moved to hear him better. Out of respect for her request, he refrained from ensnaring her in his senses, but he couldn’t shut them out completely. Little signs gave her away, her breath catching when he brushed against her hand and the way her cheeks kept coloring when he said the most usual things – true things – was another thing he was quickly coming to enjoy.

Diego thought to ask at which point Isolde realized she had lost her battle a while ago. Yet he did not. In his readings he had come across other concepts that were strange and unknown to him. Brion women fought their mates, some out of frustration because they had thought someone else would be theirs, some out of custom, some because they thought it was fun. But they knew a Brion man would never lie about their gesha. It would be unthinkable to make someone believe such a tremendous thing. So the women never fought full-heartedly, mostly for sport. And when men laid with women they weren’t going to bind themselves to, it was because it was mutually consensual and beneficial for both to learn their passions before meeting their true mate. The concept of what the humans had… it was enough to make his blood roar. He realized halfway through his reading that what he had done must have come off really scary to his gesha. He could not advance further or she would hate him forever.

She would still be his, would always be his, but he would clearly prefer for her to like him.

He could, however, give it a little nudge in the right direction. His fingers found hers on the table between them, and she didn’t immediately pull away. Diego stroked her little hand, so tiny in his grasp, feeling the softness of her skin. He longed to press his entire body against that skin, to feel it caress his own. Still she didn’t pull away, her eyes mesmerized looking at his hand. He took the opportunity to move further, up over her wrist, stroking her arm and going further still to finally feel her heartbeat beneath his fingers. Her neck was as smooth as her fingers had been, so delicate against his big, coarse hands. Her heart thudded in her chest, her lips parted as if to speak, but no sound came.

Carefully, inch by inch, like approaching a dangerous predator in Briolina’s forests, Diego let his finger slip over her lips. They parted for him, as they should. His. His alone. Her eyes were pleading, begging in a language that needed no words at all, a gesha calling to her mate.

It was insane. He wanted to tell this little human that the tortures he had endured in his training were nothing compared to what she was putting him through.

“Your no is becoming really quiet,” he said, surprised to hear his own voice shake.

She laughed, as if he’d made a joke.

Her soft hand reached out to him, and suddenly it was pressed against his chest, tracing the contours. Her touch burned. He had never enjoyed being burned before.

Humans seemed to have many reflexes they didn’t control. It seemed odd to Diego. As her hand travelled up to his neck, he saw Isolde’s tongue flick out to wet her lips. That made them look even more inviting. Her fingers stroked the squares implanted on his skin, her eyes wide with wonder, moving from one to the other.

“Did it hurt?” she asked quietly. “When you got these?”

Not nearly as much as you are hurting me right now.

“No,” he said. “I take pride in each and every one of them. Being worthy of them is a great honor. I bled, but I did not hurt.”

She looked at him, and there was again an emotion in her eyes he couldn’t decipher. He wished he were more learned in the species to better understand what she was thinking, but he could take care of that later.

“Will you hurt me?” she asked.

He was so taken aback that she flinched away when she felt him tense.
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“Never,” he swore. “I promised I would never hurt you. My word is my honor.”

He took her hand in his again. She didn’t pull it back.





CHAPTER EIGHT

Isolde



Ohhhh boy. Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy.

Was she ever in trouble now. What had even been in the food and drink he’d given her? Something to make her abandon all reason? Was she actually considering this?

Mother had told her young girls didn’t marry guys they had just met. Isolde had always hated fairy tales with their princesses who went with the first pretty guy that laid their eyes on them. The Sleeping Beauty was the worst of them. That was like, horribly creepy. And there she was, really considering this. Because a pair of blue eyes and some considerable biceps were making her lady parts go all sploosh.

She didn’t want to give any thought to the fact those parts made some convincing arguments.

Grothan’s voice said something. For all Isolde cared, he could have recited the recipe for chocolate chip cookies or something similarly absurd, but it went straight to her core and shut off any functions of coherent speech.

There should be a law against guys being this hot, she thought.

Well, there actually was a law. Not against guys being hot per se, but the law censoring images of Brion men and limiting their visits to Terra.

You did not just think of the most dangerous man in the galaxy as a “hot guy”, the rational part of her mind warned. Do you have a bloody death wish?

Isolde loved chocolate chip cookies. For her, the commander was looking mighty much like one right at that moment. Mmm... But what a way to go, she shot back.

It was simply that rationality didn’t seem to want to compete with the simple fact that her hand was in a grip she didn’t want to free herself from. Oh no, far from it. She wanted that hand all over her and possibly in her. And the need to touch was quickly becoming unbearable. The squares had felt so cold and hard, but Grothan was warm and hard and she was…very much lost.

She spoke seven languages – Terran and alien – and some of their dialects, but remembered exactly none of them as Grothan got up and pulled her against him. His eyes searched hers for denial, but she couldn’t fake what wasn’t there.

Isolde realized she had been moving when the backs of her knees hit the bed and she tumbled backwards. Oh crap. Open your mouth right now or you won’t get a chance to.

Her mouth disagreed. It wanted to moan and maybe scream, if given incentive.

Grothan was suddenly on top of her, his strong hands pinning hers over her head and it was so much better than she had dreamed. His chest heaved against hers, firm and hard like marble. His lips didn’t kiss her, merely brushed maddeningly against her lips. Waiting. Oh, now he was waiting!

“Say no,” he said.

Isolde groaned, because her body had just betrayed her completely and rubbed itself shamelessly against the general. Her back arched off the bed with such strength it actually made Grothan adjust his grip. A light beamed from his eyes and his crystal squares lit up, as if she truly – literally – had turned him on.

“That wasn’t a no,” he teased.

Oh really? She hadn’t noticed. Bloody aliens. Bloody stupid fucking sexy aliens and their ocean blue eyes that sparkled in the light of his crystals.

Her attempts at disarming an alien warlord seemed to be unfruitful. Not because he had broken any rules – as far as there were any – but because she was unable to get a single word over her lips.

Then he ground his body against hers and her mind fled to the comforting darkness of deep space. Grothan’s lips brushed over hers again, reminding her of the kiss before, but when she lifted her head to respond, he pulled back.

“Say yes, then,” he whispered, low and dangerous. “You will be mine and I will be yours and the rest of the galaxy will come second.”

Oh that sounds wonderful. Only you’re an alien and I’m human. Given, you’re an alien hunk and I’m just an ordinary girl, but c’mon. Give the girl a break. This is a bit… sudden.

Isolde wanted to laugh. She also wanted to hump Grothan’s brains out, and vice versa. What she really wanted was for the situation to be much less weird, so she’d have no trouble screaming yes at the top of her voice.

Grothan was waiting. Isolde sighed inwardly. Such a gorgeous man, she really was a fool, but no meant no, so...

“Yes,” her lips whispered against his hot skin.
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Er… crap.

She would have protested, even if against her own testimony, but air was robbed from her lungs and her argument grew weaker by the second. Grothan released her hands and they buried themselves into his hair, basking in the rich, masculine scent of his skin. His hands found their way under her shirt, cupping her breasts and she moaned into his mouth. Isolde could feel the commander’s cock pressed against her thighs and she really hoped her imagination was exaggerating, because she was going to get torn in two if it wasn’t.