Prime Obsession(56)

“Wulf? Your mother is scared to death with anger on top of it. Will she be able to handle confrontation?”

 “My mother raised three sons. She can handle anything. I’ll make sure Father knows she is extra-emotional, though.”

“Wulf. Melina. Are you two talking to each other?” Lorinda touched Mel’s arm, her fingers shaky and cold.

“Yes, Mother,” Mel replied, covering Wulf’s mother’s hand with her own warmer one. “I am concerned about you. This will be very difficult for you, I think.” Lorinda smiled, a smile of such warmth that Mel could not believe that the same woman was about to explode from within. “You’re reading my nerves, yes?” Mel nodded. “I can handle Beria and Luka and anything they dish out. I’ve hated that woman for years, but I would swear she doesn’t know it. I won’t reveal anything—well, I won’t unless Beria is caught out in her lies. Then I just might hit the bitch.”

“Lorinda! Language!” Tor said, a grin breaking out on his face. “There are ladies and gentlemen present.”

“Stuff it, Tor.” Lorinda followed her sentence up by throwing her napkin at the man and hitting him in the middle of his face.

The table erupted into laughter. After which, they settled down and planned how to make Beria and Luka betray their part in the rebellion.





Chapter Twenty


Later that day, Beria Caradoc-Nabann’s Home

Mel held onto Wulf’s arm as they entered the home of his Aunt Beria and her husband Luka Nabann. The house was more of a showplace than a home. The large entryway was twice the size of the one at Wulf’s family home and was decorated with so much gold trim and carved pillars and molding that Mel wondered just who Beria and Luka were trying to convince of their importance and wealth—those who visited or themselves?

Wulf leaned over and whispered against her ear. “Tacky and overdone, right?” She grinned and nodded, saying nothing since their hosts were approaching.

Wulf patted her hand as she squeezed his arm. “They don’t bite,” he whispered, taking the opportunity to nuzzle her neck. At the narrowed glance from his aunt, Wulf added, “Well, at least, not much.”

Mel choked off the laugh that threatened to burst from her throat.

Beria Caradoc-Nabann was the female version of her brother Ilar. Tall, dark-haired, golden-eyed, and regal-looking. On Ilar it looked good; on Beria, it looked hard—and cold. Luka Nabann was shorter than his wife, with prematurely gray hair and eyes the color of rotten acorn squash. His thin lips were pursed so tightly Mel was surprised the skin on his face did not crack.

“Welcome to our home,” Beria said with all the warmth of an iceberg.

And like an iceberg, Mel was sure that the dangerous aspects of Beria’s personality were mostly hidden beneath the sharp and frozen exterior she presented to the world. The woman hated them all, to a man and woman. Even though she didn’t know who Nadia and Lia were, Beria’s frigid glare cut through them like a cold laser.

As for Luka, he radiated no emotions; either he was a total sociopath—or being married to Beria had long ago killed them all.

Mel was pretty darn sure she knew who was the dominant in this sick twosome.

“Beria,” Ilar leaned forward and air-kissed his sister’s pale cheek. “You look fabulous, as always.”

And she did, if one liked mannequins with every hair and article of clothing perfectly situated. Beria gave new meaning to the term control freak.

 “Are you reading what I’m reading, lubha ?”

 “Yes. She hates our guts and would kill us in an instant if she felt she could get away with it.”

Mel turned into Wulf’s large body and leaned her head against his chest, keeping her eyes on Beria and Luka as they were introduced to the others first. “Why haven’t you ever read her hatred for your family before? It is so strong.”

 “Our bond makes it easier. Father and Mother still have no clue. Huw and Iolyn are getting it somewhat because they are reading us—and that is mainly because they know our body language.”

Ilar turned to Wulf and Mel and waved them forward. “And here is Wulf’s lovely gemate. . She is Tor Maren’s niece, Captain Melina Dmitros-Caradoc.” Ilar used her Terran family’s surname in honor of them finding and raising her. All Prime females took their father’s surname with them to their bonding and added it to their gemat’s.

Beria inclined her head, her demeanor haughty and distant. Luka checked her out from head to toe, then zeroed in on her chest. So, Luka was a breast man? The bastard had the audacity to lick his lips as he leered at her. He reminded her of a reptile tasting the air before striking its prey.

She knew she should’ve worn something less low cut, but Wulf had picked the outfit and she’d worn it to please him.

Luka’s lascivious glances had Wulf stiffening at her side. His low growl reverberated through his body to hers, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. She nudged him.

 “Stop that. That’s the growl that makes my teeth hurt.”

 “If Luka continues to stare at your breasts, I’ll punch him in the face. I always hated his nose. It’s too pointy. Looks like a desert weasel.”

 “More of a pseudo-lizard. The tongue, I mean. I think you are correct about the nose, definitely a desert weasel.”

Wulf’s mental laughter had her smiling, and his anger left as swiftly as it had arisen.

 “You are so right, my love. He does have the look of an Erian or an Antaren, doesn’t he? A perfect match for my cold-blooded bitch of an aunt.”

“So, this is Wulf’s gemate.” Beria’s narrowed glance swept over her as if she were some lowly servant. Her gaze however skipped over Mel’s cleavage and stopped at her hips. “Let’s see the marking. I don’t believe it. The Lost Ones are gone from us forever.” Wulf’s aunt glared at him. “Why would you try to foist some Terran female off on our people? Is keeping power in your line so important that you would sink to such base depths?”

 “The motive, Wulf? It’s just as I—Wulf? Stop that growling. Now you have the rest of the males in your family doing it.” Mel rubbed a hand over her forehead in an attempt to assuage the throbbing pain the Caradoc males’ growling caused.

The four males’ growls were so strong that the windows in the entryway vibrated and two jars sitting on decorative pillars fell to the floor with a crash. Even Beria’s husband had an expression of shock on his face at his wife’s words.

“Stop with the macho-growling-crap, dammit.” Mel stepped forward and turned to glare at the Caradoc men. “That makes my bones ache.” Lorinda, Nadia and Lia smiled at Mel. She shot them a grin before she turned and skewered Beria who’d backed away from her brother and nephews. Obviously, they’d never turned the Prime-males’-growl-of-death on her before. Mel bet Luka had been so emasculated after his marriage to Beria that he’d never subjected his dominant wife to a showing of Prime alpha-male protectiveness, either.

“Aunt Beria,” Mel said, a mocking smile on her lips. “I’m not sure why you’d call my gemat a liar—but I don’t like it. And unlike most women of your acquaintance, I do not need a man to protect or defend me or to defend those who belong to me. Wulf belongs to me. Don’t insult him again.”

Beria’s mouth open and shut like a fish gasping for air. Before she could say something, Mel continued, “Since you don’t believe I am a gemate, I’m willing, for the sake of peace in the family, to show you.”

“No, Melina, you do not—” Wulf said as he stepped closer to her side.



She held her hand up, cutting him off. “Yes, I believe that I do need to show her. As do you, my love.” Mel turned to Wulf and unbuttoned his shirt and lay it open to demonstrate his marking. “Don’t move, darling.”

She brushed a kiss across the gemat symbol and it glowed in response to her touch.

Luka gasped and cast a scared glance at his wife. Interesting response.

Mel kept her eyes on her hosts as she carefully peeled down the lounging pants that went with her top, exposing her gemate symbol. It glowed and swirled in response to the stimulation of Wulf’s. Wulf traced a gentle finger across the marking. Both markings’

colors grew in intensity.

Wulf pulled her to him, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. “My gemate lubha.” Mel nuzzled his bare chest. “My darling gemat.” She shuddered and wished they could leave so she and Wulf could hide in their suite of rooms and finish what her show-and-tell act had started.

“Satisfied, sister?” Ilar’s tones could have frozen helium3, if that were possible.

“Please note, the markings are identical in all respects; color, design, size and responsiveness—and, note also, that it only took a mere brushing of the markings to stimulate the bonding response.”

“A full and complete bonding,” muttered Luka. “I’ve never seen one so strong.” His nervous gaze sought his wife’s, but Beria merely glared at Wulf and Mel as if they were the root of all her problems in the world. And maybe they were.

Visibly collecting herself, Beria swallowed. Her face rearranged itself into the calm, cool facade of a consummate hostess. “I am sorry. I can see I was wrong. Welcome to the family, Melina. Welcome home to Cejuru Prime.” Her lips formed a mocking facsimile of a smile. “Best wishes to you, my nephew, on your bonding. May your union   be blessed with many sons.”