Taken (Calliston Series - Book 1) (16 page)

S'rea stared down at him. The hopeful look on his face told her he was sincere. Martha had mentioned something about kneeling being required in a U-man marriage proposal. She recovered quickly and said, "On one condition."

"Why am I not surprised?" he murmured.

"You remove the brand of your former mate," she said.

"My tattoo?" he asked. When she nodded, he laughed. "Already gone," he told her, and bent forward so she could see for herself.

S'rea examined his shoulder. It was gone. "Then I will marry you."

Viktor stood and gathered her up in his arms and kissed her. "We should celebrate," he said, and picked her up.

"What are you doing?" she demanded. "We have a dinner to go to."

"They can wait," he said, and carried her to his bedroom.

"You want to mate, again?" she asked, incredulous. "U-man men can do that?"

"Two things," he said as he lowered her onto the bed. "You have a lot to learn about U-man males, which I intend to teach you."

S'rea sighed when he nibbled on her ear. "And the second?"
 

"This isn't mating," he said. "I'm going to make love to you."

S'rea didn't stop or injure him when he removed her robes. "You are?"
 

He stopped and said, "On one condition."

"What is it?" she asked, frustrated that he was more naked than she at that moment.

"You promise never, ever to call me
U-man
again."

"I promise," she said.

"And you scream my name while we make love," he added.

S'rea smiled slyly. "Viktor," she whispered.

"That's not screaming," he said.

"You are not currently making love to me," she said.

"Scientists," he muttered, "will be the end of me."

"Peacetalkers," she said. "All talk and no action."

Viktor raised an eyebrow. "You will pay for that," he told her, and reached between her legs.

"Viktor!"

Viktor’s Interview

Reporter:
This is news diplomatic correspondent Fifi Newbern, coming to you live from Space Station 44. Soon we will see Viktor Jacobs, the diplomat dispatched to negotiate a peace treaty with the people of Lyrissia, as he disembarks from the Space Corps vessel, Callisto. As you all know, his mission was a success and-- Oh wait, it appears that Mr. Jacobs has arrived and-- There he is!

Reporter:
Diplomat Jacobs! Fifi Newbern, Diplomacy News. A moment of your time sir, please?

Viktor:
Just a few minutes.

Reporter:
Firstly, congratulations on bringing peace to this sector of the universe.

Viktor:
I would like to interrupt you there, I did not achieve this singlehandedly. Many people were involved, including the Lyrissian government, their king and the Lyrissian people.

Reporter:
Of course, of course. Speaking of the Lyrissian King, what can you tell us about him?

Viktor:
No comment.

Reporter:
Okay…what about the Lyrissian diplomat, the one who died?

Viktor:
Peacetalker Tarn was a noble and well-respected Lyrissian. This peace would not have been possible if it were not for him, his vision for his people and the effort he put into the negotiations. He will be missed.

Reporter:
Our thoughts and sympathies go out to his family. I have heard that you yourself almost died, numerous times. What was that like?

Viktor:
Those were some of the scariest moments of my life, not to mention life changing. I owe my life to several people, including Peacetalker Tarn.

Reporter:
It sounds like negotiating peace treaties has never been so hazardous to ones health.

Viktor:
*laughs* It has never been this rewarding either.

Reporter:
Will you be jumping straight into another assignment?

Viktor:
No, I'll be taking some time off. I have a honeymoon that I'm looking forward to.

Reporter:
That's right, we had heard that you married while on board Callisto, to Peacetalker Tarn's daughter.

Viktor:
No comment.

Reporter:
Was this a strategic move on your part to solidify the treaty?

Viktor:
No. Your time is up. This interview is over.

Reporter:
Diplomat Jacobs, is it true that you were forced to marry the Lyrissian Diplomat's daughter under threat of death?

Viktor:
I said this interview is over.

Reporter:
But the people--

Viktor:
*shoves microphone aside* The people can mind their own damned business. Now get out of my way before my wife decides you are a threat to me and removes you.

Reporter:
*gulps* Yes, of course--That was diplomat Viktor Jacobs, recently returned from the Lyrissian homeworld and on his way to his honeymoon. This is Fifi Newbern, signing off.

THANK YOU!

I hope you enjoyed reading S’rea and Viktor’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it :)

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Read on for the preview of Adrift, book two in the Callisto series.

PS: this is the story of S’rea and Viktor’s son!

Adrift (Callisto Series - Book 2)

Hearts will ache and heads will roll in this audacious Science Fiction Romantic Adventure!

Stealing damning evidence from a covert ops section of Space Corps makes Jasmine a target. So what does she do? What any good undercover investigative journalist would do, she runs. Hops the first civilian transport ship off the planet, but with the bad guys on her heels who knows how long she’ll live. A vacationing half-alien colonel who is a deft hand with a sword might just increase her odds of survival, but helping this woman could be hazardous to his health!

~

"Wait!" Jasmine called out as she sprinted for the civilian transport. It was the last transport off the planet for the next twenty-four hours, and she had booked passage before she'd swiped evidence for her latest story and was determined not to get stuck here. If she did, then the general would hunt her down and do unspeakable things to her—a thought that made her shiver. Thankfully the man at the hatch heard and waited for her.

Jasmine made her way through the transport to one of two bunkrooms on board. She stowed her gear in the recess under her bunk. The small transport was old and economy class all the way, with dorm-style lodgings. She had the top bunk and some poor schmuck had the unfortunate luck to have the one below her, judging from the belongings stowed there. Jasmine glanced around the eight-person sleeper room and found herself very much alone.

She grinned. The investigator's itch to find out all she could about her bunkmate needed to be scratched. She couldn't help it. Going by the clothes, her bunkmate was a man. Reserved and practical. Going by how neatly folded it all was, including his underwear, anal retentive.

"Boring, boring man," she muttered to herself.

"Nosy, opinionated woman," a man's voice said from behind her.

"You forgot annoying and bitchy," she informed him while she rummaged through the rest of the bag.

Norik raised a bemused eyebrow and said, "Any normal person would have stopped what they were doing and offered an apology."

"Well, there's your problem," she told him. "I'm not normal. Your stuff?"

"Yes," Norik said as he moved closer and collected the items of clothing that she had removed. He decided her statement was indeed correct when he found everything placed in neat piles. A normal person would have tossed things about; she had been careful, almost meticulous in her snooping.

"You're not normal either," said Jasmine. She pulled a rather large archery bow from a case as evidence. "This just made you infinitely more interesting."

While he was distracted with his bow, she took the opportunity to look him over and summed him up quickly: tall, dark and handsome. Typical. His hair, though, annoyed her. It was shaggy down to his shoulders, as if it were hiding something. Like the forward person she was and with no care for people's personal space, Jasmine reached out and brushed it back. "Aha!" she exclaimed. "Ridges."

Norik pulled his head back the moment he felt his hair move. He didn't like being touched. Touching was personal. It wasn't something he let a person he didn't know do. It wasn't something his crew were allowed to do either, unless it was required in the line of duty. He was also sensitive about the ridges along his neck. They weren't as pronounced as she made it sound, nor did he have the distinctive and severe facial features that a full Lyrissian would have. His mixed blood softened the harsh lines, and if he smiled, which he rarely did, no one could tell that Lyrissian blood filled his veins.

"Congratulations," he told her, "you found me out. I am a ridge-necked archer."

Jasmine rolled her eyes but decided to leave him to repack his own belongings. She took a step away but stopped. "I should warn you," she said as she leaned toward him with a whisper, "I snore." With that piece of parting information, she flounced off to find something to eat.

Norik closed his eyes until the annoyance had left the room, then he sighed. He had managed to survive a war and shore leave, but after meeting this woman, he wasn't so sure he could last the week it would take the transport to get him back to his own ship.

Norik was the commanding officer of a small Space Corps vessel, the Callisto. He took his position very seriously. He sometimes stood in stark contrast to his wild and rough crew, but they were a family and he realized they were only worried about him—unnecessarily worried, as far as he was concerned. One, however, couldn't argue with a crew that went to extreme measures to enforce one's leave. In this instance, they had doped his food and left him on a backwater planet with a note and a bag of his clothes. So here he had stayed, just to humor them, afraid if he returned too early, they might try it again and leave him on a pleasure planet, perhaps tied to some bed with one of those little signs, which said he was available for sex, in the window. His self-imposed celibacy of ten years had garnered much mocking from his subordinates, but it was something he held to firmly. The last time he had attempted to be truly intimate, he had almost killed someone. Plus, getting that close to a person was a distraction and would not help him make the tough calls required in his position. No one should die because he was afraid to make the right decision. That was the burden of command.

* * *

The next three days passed agonizingly slowly for Norik. He had quickly fallen into a routine, a routine that even he had to admit was quite boring. He would sleep, wake, eat, exercise and catch up on the reading that his crew had packed for him. It was an eclectic assortment of material. The scientist assigned to his ship had decided that Norik needed to brush up on new theories about time travel, a subject that Norik himself hated with a passion. He especially hated the stick-figure drawings that had been included for added emphasis. His chief engineer was obsessed with anything related to the Ice Warriors or Illarn, which explained why there were two vastly different biographies of the same great Ice Warrior war hero on his reading tablet. The medical chief seemed to be giving him a hint that he should have a passionate affair with someone. At least that was what he surmised from the seven romance novels he had found hidden among the latest information and specifications for weaponry that had been provided by his tactical chief. But the pièce de résistance was from his second-in-command. Norik supposed he shouldn't be surprised. Still, he couldn't help himself from turning the tablet upside down as he tried to work out the logistics of the position the couple in the picture seemed to have gotten themselves into.

Jasmine spent her days getting to know the few passengers and crew on the small vessel. It made her almost forget that she was fleeing from trouble so she could break a huge story. She knew everyone by name, birth date, and in one case rank and Corps serial number. Except for Norik. All she had on him was a name and what she had so far observed. He seemed to keep strictly to himself and guarded personal information like a dog would a bone. That alone made him all the more intriguing. It meant he had a secret. A big, juicy secret that begged to be shared—if only she could get him to open up.

Norik was lost in thought when Jasmine parked herself next to him on the table. She craned her neck to see what was so interesting on the tablet that he hadn't noticed her. Even she had to blush at the tableau depicted on the handheld screen, and not because it was embarrassing.

"It's easier the other way around," she said.

"Hmm?" Norik said, suddenly brought back to the here and now.

Jasmine gestured to the tablet and explained in a low voice, "The man and woman need to switch places."

Norik stared at her for a moment before he looked back to the picture. "It's not a man and a woman."
 

"Oh?" Jasmine said, and took the tablet from him without asking. She held it closer to her face and hit the zoom. "Oh," she repeated. "Duarr pornography. You're a strange man, Norik."

"It's not my pornography." He snatched it back.

"Kinky."

"It is not—" he started again, but gave up. More calmly he asked, "What do you want?"

"I wanted to say hi to my bunkmate. See how you were doing. How are you doing?"

"I'm fine."

Jasmine gave him a few moments to say more. When he didn't, she continued brightly, "I'm fine too, thank you."

Silence.

The man was a stubborn ass, she decided, standing up. "Well, I'll leave you alone with your Duarr porn, then. Hope you enjoy it." She grinned at him before she wandered off to pump his exercise partner for more information.

Norik watched her leave. He still stood by his original assessment of her: the woman was nosy and annoying. Jasmine had been right about one thing, though: she did indeed snore. Like an Ice Warrior. He had been close to smothering her with his pillow on two occasions. Last night, he had been on his feet with pillow in hand, ready to do it when she'd rolled away from him and revealed she slept naked. A practice he also shared, but when he slept in a room full of other people, he at least had the decency to wear underwear. She apparently felt no such consideration for others.