Legend Beyond The Stars (15 page)

He would bind her to him, so she would never leave
.

Urgency flooded him and blind to all else, his grip closed around her narrow waist and hoisted her over his shoulder. With one hand on her bottom keeping her in place, he stalked to the door. She shrieked her protest and before the door closed, Tarak heard the guffaws of laughter erupt from his men.

With his Alana commanding he
‘put her down at once, or else suffer the consequences’
, he bounded along the corridor to his quarters set in the very centre of his ship.

Once inside, he carefully placed her on her feet. As soon as her boots hit the floor, before she could begin arguing or demanding again, he drew her against his aching, aroused body. He pressed his lips against hers. A long sigh escaped him, as he nibbled tenderly on her full lower lip, drawing it gently into his mouth and sucking, stroking his tongue over its softness. With exquisite slowness he soothed the line of her spine to massage the delicate small of her back.

Her moan of pleasure, the way she arced her body, the light touch of her fingertips as they glided up his bare arms and slid with sensuous stealth over his shoulders and around his neck, had a shudder of such intense desire shake him, he wondered he did not fall to the ground. Hungrily he thrust his tongue into her mouth. He moulded her bottom, taking her weight and lifting her up to grind against his throbbing cock.

His Alana clung to him, her fingers threaded through his hair at the back of his head, her generous mouth kissing him with matching urgency. Her body pressed so close against his, trembling with the force of her passion.

Tarak checked his surroundings.

The bed was definitely too far away. He pushed her up against the wall. Quickly he unfastened her pants. He remembered well how the contraption worked. This time he had no trouble with wrenching the garment down her thighs. His mouth left hers long enough for him to yank her pants over her boots and kick them out of the way.

That left the small scrap of material to be dealt with. He sighed, remembering how upset she had been earlier at the thought of losing any of her possessions. He longed to rip the cloth apart, so desperate was he to be inside her, but this belonged to her. So he would be careful. Tarak slid his hands inside the material, exploring greedily and dipping into her moist heat.

It was too much. He pushed the material over her legs, flipped open the pouch covering his groin. He scooped his arms around the back of her legs and lifted her. She gasped in surprise.

“Put your legs around me,” he ordered, his voice hoarse with want. He kept his eyes fixed on her face, drinking in every nuance of expression, her ardent delight in his touch, driving him to the limit of his constraint. Her long legs tightened around his hips and he slipped his hands under her bottom. He must remember to pay attention to this area next time.

He braced her against the wall and thrust. Her eyes fluttered closed and her whole body quivered against him. A moan ripped from his lips. In lust-blinded frenzy he drove into her, again and again until she cried out her rapture. His grip tightened as her whole body shuddered and she climaxed.

The muscles bunched and clenched in his thighs, his balls swollen to painful proportions, he rammed into her wet heat. He released a guttural roar as he found his release. His heart thumped, his breathing laboured and heavy. He clawed in air and rested his head against her silky hair.

Gradually Tarak could feel his Alana’s rapid heartbeat ease. He heard her sigh—heard an underlying thread of remorse in the forlorn sound that wrenched at his conscience. She moved against his body as if preparing to push him away. He tightened his hold and buried his face in the curve of her neck.

Ahhh. She was truly wondrous
.

He drew her scent deep into his lungs.

Never would he let her go.

She moved again. Tarak eased her away from the wall, allowing her legs to unwrap from his body and slide to the floor.

He cradled her face and gazed into her eyes, reading the confusion that troubled her.

Tarak smiled, his body feeling heavy with lazy satisfaction. “There is no need to worry so, my slave Alana. This is how it should be. Once a slave has yielded to a Darkon warrior, she then lives only to give him pleasure.”

“What?”

He took no notice of her spluttered outrage, far too enthralled with the vision before him. Her face was flushed and warm from the heat of their mutual passion. Her mouth
opened, moist and trembling. He groaned and took her lips in arrogant possession. His balls tightened, blood rushed to his cock and still inside that moist sheath he hardened.

They would use his bed this time.

His touch slipped down her back, around to her front and splayed over her sensitive stomach. He slid his other hand up under her top, to close in an act of total possession over one smooth firm breast.

Her fingernails dug hard into his skin.

She thumped his shoulder.

She wriggled and twisted and pushed.

He whispered her name as his open mouth laved a trail along her neck and over her breast bone.

He sucked hard on one pebbled nipple.

She gasped.

Her body relaxed, melded into the contours of his straining muscles.

Exultation exploded in his brain with all the force of a Nixt missile strike.

He heard humming.

At first, he thought it was the pulse of his hot blood thrumming through his brain. Tarak paused. Lifted his head and listened.

“What is it?” gasped Alana.

”By the stars of Darkos, who dares interrupt me?” he snarled, when he realised it was his personal locater making the racket. He snatched the item off his belt, read the message and then flung it across the room. “This had better be important or I will banish the fool to the pit of Cercis!”

Chapter Eight

The Command Centre was a hive of activity when Alana entered. The last time she had been in this room there was quiet and order with few warriors, now the atmosphere was very different. Every consol was manned. A small group of officers stood in a huddle, legs braced as they muttered together. She recognised the tension in the air—danger. Or at the very least, a problem. The soldier in her came to instant attention.

Her entrance was ignored. The only warriors who appeared interested in her appearance were Commander Tarak and another warrior who she now recognised as his second-in-command. Magar angled a brief smile at her before returning his attention to his
conference with the grouped soldiers. She noticed how her alien lover’s attention immediately arrowed onto her presence. His perusal was thorough, a scowl of irritation lining his brow before he swung back to his examination of the array of displays which lined an entire wall. She gave a silent curse at the hot betraying flush which washed over her face and hoped no one else noticed.

Alana hurried across the room, her eyes fixed on the strange symbols and diagrams which scrolled down in neat columns. “What’s happening? What can I do to help?”

“I told you to stay in my chamber,” Tarak growled. With typical male arrogance he ignored her question.

Alana placed her hands on her hips, in the age old stance of defiant womanhood. “Don’t be ridiculous. As if I’m going to cower in some hole when there is work to be done. Come on, Tarak. Where I come from I’m a soldier, an officer used to command and battle. I can help. And anyway, I need to know if we’re in danger. I have people I need to protect, too.”

Tarak swung around to face her with such suddenness, the movement caused Alana to take a hasty step back. She sighed as she saw the deep furrow between his brows, the hard, implacable lines on his face. The ardent lover of a few moments ago had vanished and in his place stood the heir to the leader of his people. It irritated she could entertain a feeling of loss for the lover, even while she admired the mantle of command he wore with such ease.

The Commander leaned forward until they were almost nose-to-nose. Mesmerised by the molten intensity of his eyes, Alana barely registered the import of his words at first.
”Listen well, my slave. You will do as I order you. On this ship and elsewhere I am your master.”

“Ooooh.” Alana spluttered as outrage rose, over-riding any remnants of tender emotion. With the velocity of a bullet she recalled those same obnoxious words being spoken by him earlier.

Talk about ruining the moment!

“No.
You
listen well, Commander, I will accept as officer in charge of this ship, you have the ultimate say in matters regarding security and the well-being of all who serve on it. But,” she paused to take a gulp of much needed air and control her spiking anger, “but you are not and never will be my master. Also—mmmph.”

Her words were smothered by Tarak’s lips when he yanked her against his hard body. With those clever lips devouring her, the world slipped away. Heat roiled through her veins, and an insatiable ache for his touch caused her to tremble and press closer. She slid her hands over those strong arms to grip his massive shoulders.

Not again!

A look, a touch and all her resolve dissipated into nothing more than hot air that drifted away like a balloon. She should be pushing him away, standing her ground, demanding he accept her as his equal instead of melting in his arms.

Irritation at her lack of control pounded in her brain.

His lips left hers, reluctantly or so it seemed to Alana and he trailed a tantalising path along her jaw to her ear. His breath stirred tendrils of her hair. He traced the curves of her ear with his rough tongue. A long shudder racked her body.

“Do you now see, my slave?” he murmured. The rough texture of his voice rumbled along her nerve ends and caused her fingers to dig deeper into his hard flesh. His lips nibbled on her lobe. She practically squirmed in his arms at the shivers of desire which prickled her sensitive skin.

“See how I am your master. Already, you respond to my command.”

A shriek of pure fury erupted from Alana.

She jerked out of his arms, raised one fist and boxed the side of his thick head.

They stood glaring at one another, chests rising and falling, hands curled into fists at their sides.

Not a sound could be heard in the Centre.

The other warriors, unsure of how to react, remained frozen in place. They could have been so many pieces of furniture as far as Alana was concerned.

It wasn’t until the First Officer strolled over and placed a hand over his Commander’s rigid arm that she remembered where she stood.

“The signal appears to be coming from the Terrane System, Commander.” Amusement laced Magar’s voice. His intrusion reminded Tarak he stood in the Command Centre and had just ravished his Alana in front of a contingent of his men.

Tarak drew in a steadying breath, shook his head to ease the ringing in his ears, and regained control. “Thank you, Magar.”

Mortification and hurt were writ large on his Alana’s small face. His gut twisted. Her eyes glistened. Her mouth tight, her small chin firmed, as she blinked to dispel the moisture.

By the Stars of Darkos, he should not have treated her so in front of his men no matter the provocation
.

A faint tremor shook his hand when he reached out to smooth over her ruffled hair. She twitched away from his touch and he clamped down hard on his back molars. He did not blame her though for her reaction. Ignoring her stiff resistance, he placed an arm about her shoulder and forcibly propelled her over to the circled men.

“Report,” he ordered, holding her in place by his side.

He made eye contact with each and every one of them. His officers, who had been busy gaping at his antics, came to attention. At the coldness in his eyes, they returned to the matter at hand. No one dared comment on the unprecedented situation of having a female and a slave at that, being present during a war council. He glared at his friend, whose mouth quivered before straightening into a firm line. He acknowledged Magar’s timely interference by inclining his head in his direction.

Magar nodded back, gestured indicating the holo display they gathered around. “The Terrane System,” he said simply.

Tarak stroked his chin and squeezed his Alana’s shoulder, his fingers slipping under her hair to gently massage the tension from the back of her neck. She shot him a quick look before returning her gaze to the display. Some of the stiffness left her body. The need to carry his Alana to his private quarters and offer solace made it hard for him to concentrate on the matter at hand.

He scowled.

It should not be this difficult!
He flexed his taut thigh muscles.

“The signal appears to be coming from the second planet in this system,” stated Magar. He indicated the planet in question. “It appears to be a distress signal and is being transmitted on every channel.”

Tarak exchanged glances with his second-in-command.

“Any ship in this galaxy would easily have received it.”

“Then we will have company.” Tarak bared his teeth, anticipation cooling the fire in his blood. “Good. I look forward to a fight. Ready the ship for battle.”

Magar stood firm. With a sweep of his hand, he indicated Alana who stared transfixed at the hologram with her fingers gripped together. “What of the females?”

Tarak growled at the stab of anxiety which sliced through his gut. “True. We cannot risk endangering them. I will command a small squadron. Magar keep the ship on alert. All warriors to their posts. We will position the Ark here, in a holding pattern.” He stabbed a
finger at a section of space well away from the second planet, just behind another smaller planet. “Any sign of risk to the Ark and you will abandon the mission. Return immediately to the outpost. I charge you with their safety. One rone Magar, and we will commence operation.”

First Officer Magar came to attention and inclined his head. He strode off.

“A distress signal,” repeated Alana. She turned to face him.

Tarak repressed an irritated groan as he noted how her eyes shone bright with hope.