Broken Vision (25 page)

A hard hand tightened around her elbow.

"We have an appointment," Alerik informed the room at large. "Please excuse us."

Margaine Confluence:/Second Rising
Pallas Five

"What appointment? And why are you running?" Maegan pulled back and tried to free her
arm from his grasp.

He tightened his grip and gave her a little jerk for emphasis. "I'm not running, merely
moving at a fast pace. Do try to keep up, or we'll be late."

"Late? Late for what?"

"Our appointment."

They reached a lift tube that already held several people. Alerik pulled Maegan onto it,
with a nod of greeting to the surprised occupants, and keyed in their destination.

Her lips were pressed tightly together. Her eyes flashed irritation. He could have taken her
the more private route available to the governor, but this way was shorter. He didn't think she'd
cause a public fuss, but didn't really care. His whole being was focused on getting her to their
bedchamber fast.

Why was it that any sign of rebellion in this slender woman raised such instant boiling lust
in him? He had known the moment she began to plot in the conference room, and had watched her
for a few nans, as lust surged through his body. Anyone else would have assumed she was paying
attention to the conversation, but he saw the small signs--the slightly glazed eyes, the finger
fiddling she did when she was deep in thought.

Maegan wasn't the only one with a plan. He had his own ideas about the Taragon problem
and Morgon. Let Sharm pursue diplomacy. If, by some miracle, the diplomats were able to
negotiate an agreeable solution without taking a ten-rotation to do it, so much the better. Experience
dictated a back-up plan was critical. Sharm would be suspicious of his sudden capitulation. He
would have to deal with that. Later. He had more immediate concerns.

Two people exited the tube, leaving two behind. Maegan shifted and stepped back. Her ass
snuggled just below his groin. Her scent, today a heady blend of ama oil and something he couldn't
place, made every nerve in his body stand at attention. Her weight settled onto his foot. A fake
smile was pasted on her face.

He growled in her ear.

"He's late for an appointment," she announced to the two strange women. "It makes him
cranky."

They giggled but didn't respond, young enough to be uncertain and a little in awe of
finding themselves in close proximity to the governor and his mate.

The lift tube slid to a halt again. He wrestled Maegan forward, his hand in the small of her
back overcoming her contrary resistance.

"Cranky," he murmured, as he marched her up the steps leading to the governor's habitat.
"Is that what it is?"

"Why are we here? Thought we had an appointment?"

"We do." He laid his hand against the panel and, when the door released, tugged her
inside.

He let her go.

"Take off your clothes."

"What?" Her outrage was gratifying. "This was the appointment? You want sex?"

He ripped at the fastenings of his tunic. "Can't think of anything else I'd rather be doing
right now."

Her eyes widened. Her face turned bright pink. "We're supposed to be making a plan to
rescue Morgon."

He dropped his tunic on the floor and toed off his half boots.

She retreated a step.

"Sharm is handling it. I trust him implicitly."

"Your second is rallying the diplomats who don't know the meaning of expediency," she
shouted. "Look how long it took for diplomacy to end the Great Conflict. Don't you dare take off
those breeches!"

"You're getting a little behind," he pointed out. "I might have to help you." He dropped his
breeches. They fell around his ankles. He kicked his feet free and stepped forward, unencumbered
by clothing.

Maegan gave a squawk. Her gaze fell to his groin. He saw her throat work. She appeared
mesmerized. Struck silent with awe.

"Better," he encouraged. "But you're still overdressed."

It broke her trance. She tore her gaze away, turned and raced for the bedchamber. "Stay
away from me," she shouted. "Go do what governors are supposed to do this time of day. Or do
something to free Morgon."

"I'm working on that, believe it or not," he muttered under his breath, as he stalked her into
the very room where he wanted her to be. Except that she hadn't stopped there. The rarely used
back entrance was open and, through, the wide plexiwall, he could see the top of her shining blonde
head bobbing down the steep, winding stairs that ended at a grove of giant granyon trees. Beyond
them was a narrow, rocky, barren beach, which edged a small lake. It was the quickest way into the
city from the back of the governor's habitat.

How and when Maegan might have figured this out, he didn't know. It was his mistake that
in his haste to satisfy his raging lust, he had disengaged the habitat's full security system. Of course,
Maegan had noticed. Or simply taken a chance.

He had a dilemma. He could hardly go chasing after her with a full hard-on and without a
stitch of clothing. It wasn't dignified. Then again, the chances of anyone being on the beach were
slim. He solved the problem by snatching up a piece of discarded clothing from the foot of the
sleeping platform and wrapping it around his waist on his way outside.

Maegan was almost to the bottom of the stairs. She glanced up, and his heart stuttered as
she stumbled and teetered on the verge of pitching face-first down the remaining steps. She
recovered and bounded the rest of the way with the fluid grace of a six-legged margrain.

On the path, poised to fly, she turned again. Even from halfway up the stairs, he saw a
most peculiar expression on her face, but then she whipped her head around and took off through
the grove. Her progress was uneven and suspiciously slow, and he easily caught up with her before
the beach even came into sight. She was doubled over gasping, her hands on her knees, her hair
tumbled in light-filled silken disarray around her face.

Again, his heart cramped. Her health was so fragile. The medtech had cleared her for
normal activity, but still...

"Maegan..."

She lifted her head. Her gaze locked onto his groin and what he'd assumed were gasps for
breath became whoops of laughter.

He looked down. The garment he had snatched was hers, a pale pink transparent overwrap
that did little to accomplish the purpose he had intended.

His concern alleviated, lust roared back full force with the accompanying single-minded
craving to be where he could do something about it. He snatched her up and tossed her over his
shoulder, ignoring her strangled shriek of protest. His bare feet stung from the tiny, sharp ridges in
the shal path, and he gained the smoothness of the stairs with great relief.

His mate stopped laughing and began to squirm as they neared the top. Out of patience, he
delivered a hard whack to her ass and was rewarded by another squawk.

"There are laws, Governor, against spousal abuse."

Her booted foot thumped perilously close to his groin. He felt a brief pressure at his waist,
then suddenly the fabric wrap was gone and his ass was bare to the breeze.

She released a breathless hoot of triumph and squirmed harder, but by that time they were
steps away from the entrance to the sleeping chamber. Once inside, he had enough presence of
mind to code-secure the entire habitat. Unless, she could read his mind and extract the code, she
wouldn't be getting out again.

He dumped her none too gently on the bed. Before she could recover, he clamped down on
her legs and jerked her boots off. He sent them flying across the room. Her screech of outrage was
muffled in the covers as he flipped her over and pulled at her leggings.

It was enough. He grasped her hips and raised her bottom in the air. He slid a hand
between her legs to check her readiness and was gratified to discover the moisture at her opening.
He slid a finger inside of her, then another. She had become curiously compliant. Her face was still
buried in the bedding, but he thought he heard a little moan.

He couldn't wait another nan. He shifted closer, used his knees to widen her thighs, and
rubbed his penis against her slick sex. The skin of her bottom was smooth and soft as gral. His
hands adored the rounded contours. She moaned and bumped back against him.

He leaned over her, letting her feel his weight, as the thick head of his penis began to
penetrate her body. Brief regret whispered through him that he hadn't taken the time to remove the
rest of her clothes. He wanted the smooth warmth of naked skin against his belly and chest.

His weight was no deterrent. She squirmed harder, impatient with his slowness. A
backward thrust of her hips lodged him partway in tight heat. He gritted his teeth. The impulse to
give in and pound his way to quick completion was a tempting starspit away, but it wasn't what he
wanted.

He pulled back until just the head of his penis was still inside her, and lifted himself from
her.

"Up." He slid an arm around her waist and levered her until they knelt back to belly. He
used his free hand to turn and anchor her head against his shoulder. She gazed at him in wary
surprise, her eyes half closed, her face tinged with a rosy blush.

In this position, it was easy to strip her of her tunic. With another swift jerk, he freed her of
her undergarment just as easily. Main goal achieved, the bounce of her pert little breasts was an
added delight. He shifted her higher to seat her more fully on his jutting shaft.

"Now," he growled, as her heat encased him in blinding pleasure, "time to get serious." He
smoothed aside the fall of her hair, and traced a path across the delicate curve of her jaw, the
softness of her cheek, to the plump invitation of her lips.

She squirmed and nearly unseated herself. The friction sent a blast of pure fire through
him. He clamped a hand at the juncture of her thighs and went to work with his fingers.

Her back bowed. "What are you--it feels--ah, mmph!"

The thrust of his tongue between her parted lips silenced her. As he ravaged her mouth, his
fingers plucked at the tiny bundle of nerves between her legs and circled where they were joined.
He began to move his hips.

She moaned into his mouth, a breathy surrender that resonated through every nerve in his
body. He moved faster, his hands holding her captive, his fingers working her soft flesh until she
tore her mouth away with a cry. "I c-can't--please." Her body alternately strained forward then back
against him.

"Yes, you can," he murmured in her ear. "Let go, love, let go."

He rotated his hips and thrust harder, tightening his grip as she struggled and tried to force
him to allow her a more normal position. He nipped at her ear lobe and increased the pressure of his
fingers. Suddenly, with a high, keening wail, she stiffened and jerked. Her inner muscles clamped
around his shaft in rhythmic pulses. He pushed her forward and let himself go, pounding into her,
until there was nothing but the searing hot pleasure erupting from his balls and consuming the very
core of him.

Margaine Confluence:/Sixth Rising
Pallas Five

Alerik's voice, demanding something, penetrated the cocoon of sleep.

Maegan cracked one eye open. It was dark in the room. It was dark outside. She closed her
eye again.

There was a rustle. A hand landed none too gently on her naked bottom. "Time to go."

She groaned and rolled into a ball. "Go 'way."

A snort of laughter came from her tormenter. "Morning is not your best time, is it?" He
tapped her bottom again. "Up. We have to go."

She buried her face in her arms. "It's not morning. It's still the middle of the night. And I
don't do anything in exchange for abuse."

Too late she realized how that could be taken. Too much to hope that Alerik wasn't paying
attention. His chuckle was pure evil as he leaned over her. His hand stroked over her bottom in
slow caress. "If only we had the time--"

It was obvious she wasn't going back to sleep anytime soon. She flung herself on her back.
"What?"

"Mmm." He leaned in and stole a kiss that made her toes dance with delight. His mouth
was fresh with the scent of sweet tiug leaf. His energy was palpable.

He pulled back. "Up," he repeated. "We have things to do."

She wasn't ready to cooperate. "Like what? Another fictitious appointment? Which really
means sex? Your office, this time?"

Starpits! What was wrong with her? He didn't need more ideas. It was too dark in the room
to see his expression, but pure sexual heat radiated from his body.

He gave a low chuckle. A dim lumen chased the darkness away. "I'm going to have to
wake you up early more often. Your imagination and creativity is...fascinating." His gaze scorched
a trail over her nude body.

He reached for her again, then sat back and shook his head. "No time, no time," he
muttered. He surged to his feet. "You have ten nans to dress."

She sat up and crossed her arms. "I'm not doing anything until I know where we're
going."

He turned and for an instant she quailed. His expression was unyielding and stern. It was
the face of a warrior commander. Then his features softened. "You're about to get your heart's
desire, mate. We're leaving for Pallas Four."

"Why?" she blurted, mistrust squelching a piercing shaft of reckless excitement. "Why in
the middle of the night?"

Alerik had opened the panel to the storage cabinet, which housed her clothes. He began
rummaging through it.

"You are the most contrary woman I know," he grumbled into the depths of cabinet. "One
would think that you'd be overjoyed and anxious to go, since Pallas Four inspires your most
interesting activities."

He stalked back to the sleeping platform and dropped a pile of clothing in front of her. The
colors were neutral, the tunic and leggings nondescript. "Eight nans."