Clair of Earth: Brintex Centurions Book One

Clair of Earth

Brintex Centurions Book One

by Gail Faulkner

The one Brintex Clair has met is huge, hot and totally in control of every situation. Owing him an intimate debt is exciting in the most intimidating way possible. Trel has made it clear the Brintex culture is male dominated and, for Clair, it had become an imaginary fantasy world. One she goes to privately, in her head. Caught in the act, literally, Trel reveals a massive cultural difference and now expects her submission in real time. He instructs her how to prepare to pay her debt, leaving no doubt he intends to get the real deal, Dominate/sub sort of submission, from every inch of her body.

If she refuses, he takes his “debt” to Earth’s governing body and demands compensation. Translation: global debate about Clair’s masturbation practices. Nope, not happening. Submitting to Trel for twenty-four hours couldn’t be worse than that.

Trel has waited a damn long time to get his female exactly where she wants to be. Taking her submission is his right and his duty. What happens when perfection is under his hand at last? They are about to find out something more is required of both of them.

WARNING:  Clair experiences bondage, penetration of every pleasure center and two smoking-hot Centurions who mean to own her. Some will say this is light BDSM because no one wields a whip. But it must be noted, no Centurion needs a whip to get his female’s attention. They prefer skin-to-skin contact in all things.

Copyright

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Clair of Earth
Copyright © 2015 Gail Faulkner All rights reserved. First Digital Edition,
1 
2015 gailfaulkner.info

Faulkner, Gail (2015)
Clair of Earth: A Brintex Centurion Book One
Kindle Edition.

Prologue

Ten Years Ago…

Ice slid down his neck, driven into his collar by the relentless wind. Trel ignored it. Too far up the mountain for the human eye to see him, he stood perfectly still and watched.

They were laughing. The fire flickered on tinsel dripping down the tree. Clair turned into the man’s arms and he kissed her. Two small children raced into the room. At this distance he could only hear the occasional childish shriek. It didn’t matter. He knew those voices.

Her man broke the kiss and chased the girls, pretending to be a predator of some sort. The children’s mother, sister to Clair, strolled into the room laughing over her shoulder at someone Trel could not see. Abruptly Clair turned to the huge window. Perfectly still, she searched the night outside her home. Trel closed his eyes, pulling back his soul’s relentless focus on her.

He knew the moment her attention was captured by her family, the moment she stopped looking out her window. His eyes opened slowly to watch them.

He remained long after the house was dark. As dawn turned shadows from black to muted gray, he pressed the comlink and let the transport evaporate him.

Heading away from the blue planet introduced Trel to a new level of pain. He couldn’t maintain the separation indefinitely but he could give her this. His silence. His absence. Her life would not change. That was all he had to offer and the cost was not important.

Chapter One

Present day, Captain’s quarters, Brintex Wraith Class Ship XTX

“The clothing. Remove it.”

Her shudder at his growl was the response Trel sought. The right amount of apprehension would provide emotional distance and protect her in ways he couldn’t. It wasn’t much of a plan and it mostly sucked. Pray the Goddesses it would be enough.

              His gaze returned to the report-pad in his hand. Acutely nonhuman senses monitored her movements. He could have done it from the next room. This close, the slide of jeans down curvy legs was just a very effective way to drive him insane. Resisting the urge to glance up at her tiny indrawn breath as the bra dropped off her shoulders probably cost him ten years off his life. He could afford it. Protecting her meant she wouldn’t be with him then.

His sensitive ears cataloged her progress but nothing was more evocative, more compelling than the fragrance of her excitement. His command to remove her clothing had triggered an immediate response in that delicate spice.

              Her arousal perfuming his quarters forced him to beat back the instinctive, possessive answer his nature clamored for. A cruelly limited range of expression was all he was afforded in this setting. Denial born of control could slice away a male’s soul. A fact he’d been unaware of before meeting her.

              She was bare and Trel let her stand before his desk for several minutes, pretending to ignore her. Luckily he could regulate sweat, that indication of his emotional involvement would have been ridiculously obvious.

Over eleven Earth years separated them from the moment he’d known who she was to him. Every one of those years had been a test of his discipline. At times, honor was all that stood between her and the brutal revelation of his claim.

Brutal only described the choice he would not ask her to make, not what would have occurred had he been free to claim her as a Brintex should. Seducing his mate was supposed to be a sensuous, intoxicating journey into pleasure. One she could not resist.

Mated females enjoyed their Brintex Centurion’s undivided attention. Mate-bond meant there would never be another female for the Centurion. A male’s genetic code imprinted his female’s code in nature’s ruthless dictate that tied a male to his mate but left her free to choose another if he perished. In the warrior society, it had once been an essential element to the survival of their race. So, Centurions, deeply passionate and immensely powerful, were by necessity possessive, attentive lovers.

Trel jerked his thoughts from the luxury of seducing his mate with the erotic courtship he would have given her. This reality was what they had. He would make it every bit as erotic as he could but he would not permit her the pain of falling in love with him.

Earth females were hauntingly sexual like no other humanoids he’d ever encountered, but his mate, she was something more. It was her loyalty, her ability to love deeply that stopped him cold the first time he met her. That same quality was what commanded him now. He had witnessed her destroyed by lost love, that pain was something he would never allow anyone to hurt her with again, and that rule applied to him.

              Letting her gaze at him added tension to the little female, a pleasing response as her scent ripened. His seven-foot frame was seated but perhaps still daunting. The heavy black mane streaming down his back and framing vaguely nonhuman features didn’t seem to bother her. Her scent had never carried the cloying aroma of distain or any of the other offensive human responses to new races.

He had been told Brintex appear somewhat feline to Earth’s inhabitants. Perhaps it was the tilted eyes and pronounced cheekbones. Yet, humans could look to one of their own native races and see the Brintex stamp. Aztec descendants were mostly Earth humanoids now, much smaller than a normal Brintex, but there was no doubt the Brintex Empire had visited the blue planet long ago.

              Currently her delectable spice was flavored with sexual embarrassment. She was not used to this. Trel chuffed in feigned disgust and dropped the report-pad to his desk.

              Looking up slowly, he allowed heavy brows to draw down in a scowl. His eyes moved up her thighs, remained on her freshly denuded
surnim
for a long moment and then up her temptingly soft belly to regard heavy breasts. At thirty-five, Clair was not a slight female, she was rounded perfection and Trel had to give up on the superior snarl to keep from drooling like an idiot.

             
Patience,
he reminded himself. She was presenting to his service. She needed and he would provide. It was his duty and there was no way in the three hells she was seeking what she needed from anyone else. He had known she would seek surrender someday. The trick had been making sure he was the one she turned to when she was ready. He was a good strategist, some said the best. They were right.

There was much his little mate did not know about the Brintex as a race. Like the fact that he could sense her emotions as clearly as he could see the unusual gray-green of her eyes. Together, with the ability to read scent and hear even the slightest alteration in her heartbeat, his precious kitten had few real secrets from him. It was not even remotely an accident that he had arrived at her dwelling when he had last night.

Transporting to her front room was something he did regularly but not often. She knew he considered her his responsibility though she often stated it was not necessary. He ignored those statements mostly because he was incapable of not taking care of his female. Bonus was she thought it was a secret that she adored his refusing to leave her alone entirely. Little mate needed time to grieve, to move on from the loss of her man. Trel had no problem giving her that but he certainly wasn’t doing it from a distance.

Arriving late last night the moment she screamed his name gave him the right to enter her sleeping chamber and find his mate doing exactly what he had known she was. It was too late for his shy little Clair to hide what she had done and who she dreamed of while she did it. The memory of the next few moments in their relationship would warm his heart for the rest of his life.

* * *

Last night 11:35 p.m., Earth

Clair’s eyes blinked open in shock. How she knew there was something to be shocked about was unclear. It wasn’t a sound that penetrated her brain. It was something a heck of a lot more basic but there was no time to analyze. He towered at the foot of her bed, gazing down at her. Noble features highlighted with deep shadows as the nightlight painted him with feeble illumination.

“Oh, my God,” Clair heard herself breathe as the shock of his presence in her bedroom thundered through the sexual haze and killed it. At least that should have happened. Really, seriously, should have been a huge downer to find the object of her secret crush standing at the foot of her bed looking down at her. She was lying on top of the covers, knees cocked wide, holding the freaking dildo in her pussy, other hand working her clit. Was there a more exposed, vulnerable position?
No.
So lying there staring up at him was probably wrong and um, well, wrong.

Then she panicked, as anyone would, but all she got to was the deep breath to prepare for the flight part of the fight-or-flight response before he pounced. Not leapt, not jumped, no, Trel pounced. The fluid power of his movement meant Clair suddenly found herself beneath a whole lot of heavy male. One of his hands had both of her wrists over her head. The other male hand grasped the end of her dildo still lodged in her body. His large frame suspended just above her body on knees and elbows would not allow her legs to close and they were now nose to nose.

“Oh, my God,” Clair repeated. Not that she was actually in control of her responses, verbal or physical. “What are you doing?” was the next thing out of her mouth. Not,
Get off me
. Or,
Get it out
. Or even,
No
. Any of which would have been the more reasonable response.

At her words, his head tipped to the side slightly as if he was listening to something else. Male fingers holding the dildo in her pussy moved and a thick thumb straightened, rasped across her clit, but he didn’t answer her verbally.

“Trel?” Clair squeaked.

“Yes,” he stated softly, his thumb firmly circling her clit.

“What are you doing?” she asked again because it seemed like an important question.

“I am taking what is mine.” His eyes never leaving hers, he slowly pulled the dildo from her body and tossed it off the bed. “This,” a thick forefinger pushed into her channel to his first knuckle, “is my wetness. Is it not?”

Clair’s gasp was not the response he required. She knew this because his hand at her wrists tightened slightly and pulled her arms straighter above her head, reminding her that she was restrained. The finger in her body pushed in deeper as he continued. “Do not attempt a lie, little one. My name was on your lips as that thing took your body. I am not pleased that my wetness was given to another.”

“I…ugh. What?” Clair tried to get a thought out, but the fingers at her already over-sensitive pussy were not allowing her time to think.

“Mine, Clair. Your words revealed this is mine and I will not tolerate another taking it.” He went on in a low growling tone.

His finger pulled out of her body, his large hand flattened to cup her intimately. Firmly holding her as her entire body began to tremble. Shock was getting a grip on her wildly inappropriate response to him. At last.

Clair squeezed her eyes closed.

“Look at me, Clair,” he commanded firmly.

His hands holding her, both intimate and restraining, totally short-circuited her brain. This amazing male, the object of what she had first told herself was just curiosity but later had to admit had always been sexual fascination, held her in his control. Overwhelming responses were crashing through her. Secret desires realized were dangerous things. They came with razor edges and no safety margins. Now he wanted to take away her one hiding place, the one behind her eyelids.

Clair found that she couldn’t refuse. Did he know she craved sexual submission? Know that coupling a command with his control of her body was the number-one erotic trigger for her? How could he? No one knew.

She looked up into the dark eyes regarding her.

“You will respond to the question,” Trel informed her. “Is this my wetness?” His hand flexed over her pussy.

“Yes,” Clair whispered.

“Was that thing you used provided by me?” he continued.

“No, but…”

“Then you gave my wetness to another,” he stated softly.

“I…I don’t understand.” Clair blinked rapidly, trying to get a grip on unexplainable tears. As if she were guilty of something, emotions were rioting out of all proportion.

She could feel his chest vibrate. The sound that emerged was very close to a growl but she couldn’t concentrate on that as he proceeded to explain.

“Brintex males are possessive and dominant, Clair. You know this about our culture, right?” He paused as she nodded. “You also know we can scent a lie. We covered that when you refused help that you actually needed. I explained we respond extremely negatively to deceit. Do you remember that?” Clair nodded again. “So you will respond honestly to the next question, Clair. Do you understand?” She nodded again.

In the back of her mind the desperate voice of reason was whispering,
He is using questions you have to agree with, Clair. It’s an old trick to get a person used to giving positive responses. Whatever comes next is the zinger and you’ll be trapped into agreeing.

“This wetness has been mine many times before, hasn’t it?” The deep rumble of his voice was a purr as he asked her that question.

Apparently it didn’t matter that she knew the next question was somehow critical. Nope, didn’t slow her down one bit. Clair nodded, watching him closely as she did. Whatever was happening, how they had gotten to this place was a freaking huge deal, but she knew what happened next would probably be bigger. What was strange about that was she didn’t feel afraid. He was taking control and that kind of made it easy.

His hand between her legs tightened for a fraction of a second, then his fingers separated, spreading damp folds so his middle finger could thrust into her in one deep push. Clair gasped, her head arched back, eyes closed in response to the sudden invasion. Dimly she was aware the male above her snarled in a rumbling growl. Pulsing with the surrender of the truth and his intimate response to her admission, all of it swirled around them in a thick erotic miasma. Even as that digit entered her, his thumb had stilled on her clit, pressing down but not moving. Clair was one more thrust of his thick finger from release.

“Clair of Earth, look at me,” Trel commanded, his voice a gravelly rumble.

She had to struggle to open her eyes and focus on him.

“I will have what is mine. You will be transported to my quarters in twenty-four hours. Prior to that time you will remove the hair on your mound. You will use cleansing fluids in your other entrance. Then you will sleep for eight hours. I do not request these things, Clair. It is my right to take them and you will see to that.”

“I don’t understand,” she whispered, staring up into dark eyes that burned down at her.