To The Princess Bound (46 page)

…with Lion.

Her head Praetorian was giving them both a disapproving glare, and hadn’t so much as gotten outside visual range since she’d caught them kissing in the yard.

Once again feeling the heat within her building at the Emp’s closeness, Victory cleared her throat pointedly.  When Lion simply settled against the wall to watch them, missing the point entirely, Victory gestured meaningfully at Dragomir.  “Isn’t there something you could be doing right now, Lion?” she suggested.

The woman smiled.  “I could be gutting the brute, but for some reason you seem to be adverse to the idea.”

Victory glared at the older woman.  “Thor could use help digging graves for the bodies.”

“Whip is helping him,” Lion said calmly.  “I’m watching.”

Narrowing her eyes, Victory growled, “Watching
what
?”

Lion’s gaze was icy when it fell on Dragomir.  “Watching to make sure a Royal Princess isn’t about to be taken advantage of by a peasant.”

What if she wants to be taken advantage of?
Victory thought rebelliously, feeling the heat of the Emp’s body so close.  But she raised her head in what she hoped was a commanding manner.  “I’m sure you can find something else to do.”

“I’m sure I could,” Lion agreed.

“Now,” Victory growled, feeling her face redden.

“Right now,” Lion said, nodding.  She didn’t move from her spot against the wall.

“What’s she saying?” Dragomir asked, watching the Praetorian suspiciously.

“She’s saying she bashed her head open a few too many times in Praetorian training,” Victory said.  She glared at Lion.  “Ignore her.”  Turning to him, she stuck a finger in his chest and said, “Now tell me what you did to me.”  Even then, she could feel the tug in her ribcage, feeding warmth into her chest.

Dragomir grinned, grabbed her hand where it was stuck to his breastbone, and dragged her close.  Wrapping his arms tight around her, he said softly, “I claimed you as my own.  Tied a cord between us.  As an Emp’s mate.” 

“Your…mate.”  Even with the warmth tracing through her body, Victory wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

He nodded, but his cerulean eyes watched her carefully, obviously expecting her to disagree.

“What…cord?” Victory managed.

“A cord of energy between our heart-ramas, binding us.  It will grow, until we will be able to feel each other at a distance.”  He grinned.  “Like I said, Princess.  I claimed you.”  He kissed her forehead.  “Made you mine.”

The cultured part of Victory sputtered. 
I’m a princess.  I can’t just let this man
claim
me.  That’s what elk and orangutans do.
  And yet, the larger portion of her wanted nothing more than to throw Lion from the room, close the door, and explore his rippling body.  So caught between these two emotions was she that Victory just stared up at him, her mind blank of things to say.

Dragomir lowered his forehead to hers.  “Will you accept me?”

From the door, Lion coughed loudly.

Dragomir flinched, then glared at the Praetorian, giving Victory momentary freedom from his piercing gaze.  She pulled out of his arms and cleared her throat, allowing the shield of civility to once more fall into place around her.  “Sir, you’ve helped me greatly, and I would be honored if you would stay on as a member of my staff, but I couldn’t possibly—”

Dragomir tore his eyes away from where he had been matching Lion scowl-for-scowl, and frowned at her.  “
Staff
?”

Seeing his scowl directed at
her
, Victory squeaked out, “Perhaps I could hire you as an entertainer.  A concubine.”

He grabbed her and pulled her close again.  In the doorway, Lion growled.

“Princess,” he grated, his face only inches from hers, “I bound myself to you.  The last thing I’m going to do is watch another man bed you.  I’m your mate, or I’m not at all.”

“You’re not a Royal,” Victory managed, feeling helpless under his blue gaze.  “You’re not certified.”

He narrowed his eyes at her for a moment, then released her.  “Lion’s right.  I think my brother needs help digging graves.”  At that, he turned and stalked from the room.  She heard his footsteps thunder on the gangplank and Thor’s startled query.

“
Now
do you want me to kill him?” Lion demanded, glancing out the door beside her.

Victory slumped into the pilot’s chair, ignoring her Praetorian.  She needed to think.  An Emp’s
mate
?  What did he mean by that?  Was that somehow different from a normal courtship?

Then another part of her cried,
Courted by a peasant?  Are you insane?
  The entire Imperium would mock her.  The other Adjudicators would snicker at her ill-bred behavior.  And, if they were to wed, no other Adjudicators would want her potential children, since they could not be rated as a Generation Royal.  Being un-certified, the Imperium would not provide her children with Praetorian, and she would have to hire specially-trained guardsmen.

Then a startled part of her mind babbled,
Children?  With a
native
?  You have got to be out of your mind.

“It would be a small thing,” Lion said, watching Dragomir go.  “Obviously a gunshot won’t work, so I would simply cut off his head.”

Victory scowled at her Praetorian.  “You will do no such thing.”

Lion shrugged and turned to go help the others.

Irritated, not sure the woman would obey her, Victory got to her feet and followed.

They were digging graves for the rebels underneath the willow trees, and the moment Victory saw their stiff bodies flop into the graves, congealed blood oozing from their wounds, she grimaced and looked away, trying not to lose the breakfast that Dragomir had made her eat on the flight.  She did her best to help, but the corpses’ open stares left her with a growing sickness in the pit of her stomach.  They were the first dead men she had ever encountered, besides the dead crew of the doomed Academy ship, and while the others simply moved them around like stiff pieces of meat, it was all Victory could do to keep her gut in check.

When Lion started cutting off the index fingers of each of the corpses, however, Victory lost control.  She fell to her knees beside the gangplank, retching.

“Or for the gods’ steaming piles, woman!” Dragomir snapped, shoving past Lion.  “Did you have to do that in front of her?”  He knelt beside Victory, putting an arm around her shoulders.  Immediately, Victory felt better, and she wasn’t sure if it was something he was doing or just the relaxation in her chest, like a cord that had been stretched too thin suddenly going slack. 

“Come on, love,” Dragomir said.  “Let’s go get you somewhere else while they finish up.”

Victory nodded, humiliated by her lack of control.  She let him lift her to her feet and stumbled into the willows with him, shivering with the horrible feeling in her stomach.

Once they were well out of hearing range, Dragomir set her down on a large, mossy rock and squatted in front of her, concern in his eyes.  “You going to be okay, Princess?”

Victory wiped tears from her eyes and nodded.  “What was she
doing
?” she whimpered.

“Identifying the bodies, I’d suspect,” Dragomir said.  “It’s standard procedure for an Imperial kill.  Some Imperial law about—”

“War crimes,” Victory finished, in a whisper.  She remembered it, now.  Rebels, no matter how many of them or how long they’ve been fighting, had to be identified, their remains eventually returned to their families.  She closed her eyes and shuddered.  “I just didn’t know that’s how they’re identified.”

Dragomir shrugged.  “Twice a year, the two sides get together to exchange remains.  Too many bodies, really, to realistically pass corpses around, so they pass fingers.”

Victory felt her gorge rising again.  “I’m going to end this.”

Dragomir gave her a long, searching look.  “I hope you do, Princess.”  He reached out and stroked a thumb across her forehead, moving a clump of hair from her eyes.  “Mercy’s been waiting a long time for someone to make some changes.”

Victory met his gaze, held it.  She felt her stomach settle under his touch, found her core once again pulsing with warm, insistent energy.  His powerful body was only a foot away, and every inch of her wanted to slip back in his arms to finish what they had started in the cockpit. 

Swallowing, she said, “What did you mean, an Emp’s mate?”

His smile was sly.  “I could demonstrate, if you want.”

“No
thank
you!” she cried, though she didn’t get up off of her rock.  She felt herself leaning into his caress, instead.

“Rather convincing argument,” Dragomir chuckled.  He pulled her close, his warm breath against her ear.  “I’m thinking we’ll take our time getting back, while I show you a few things.”

“Yes,” Victory whimpered, feeling an odd duality at his touch, the sense that she was both the toucher and the touchee.  She found her skin start to tingle as he traced his fingers down her face, along her neck, bent to kiss her shoulder.  Like a wildfire, heat was rushing upwards from her core, melting her into his body.

Dragomir leaned backwards onto the forest floor, pulling her with him.  As soon as her body slid across his, Victory felt a building between her thighs, the hot pressure making her moan, despite herself.  His hands swept down her body, slipped under the shift, found the curve of her lower back…

Victory, for her part, was pulling his shirt over his head, exposing the definition of his chest, the hard ribs of his stomach.  She moaned again as his big hand swept over her rear, settling into the curve at the back of her thigh, drawing with it a flood of sensations that she knew could not be normal.  The skin under his fingers felt electrified, like his touch itself emanated warm sunshine.  She shuddered as his hands moved again, slipping under her shift, tracing her ribs as they reached upward, seeking…

A swordpoint came to rest at the Emp’s throat.

“Tell him,” Lion said calmly, “That he will be trying to figure out how to heal himself a couple of testicles, if he doesn’t take his hands off of you immediately.”

“Who hired you to be my nanny!” Victory cried, horrified.

“Your mother,” Lion said.  “Right before she died.  Tell him.”  She pressed the swordpoint deeper into his esophagus.

Without being told, Dragomir slowly pulled his hands free and held them up, eyes riveted to the Praetorian’s blade.

“Now get off of him and try to regain some of your dignity.”  Lion gestured at the way Victory’s shift was pushed halfway up her back.

Reddening, humiliated, Victory yanked her shift down and glared at her Praetorian.  “Leave.  Now.”

“Lady,” Lion said, “I am your sworn servant, but I am allowed to use my discretion in obeying your commands.”  She frowned down at Dragomir over her blade.  “And, this being an Emp and a native, I am unconvinced that he has your best interests at heart.”

“I didn’t ask you for your opinion,” Victory growled.

Lion shrugged.  “I’m giving it.”  She removed her sword from Dragomir’s neck and, stepping back, sheathed it.  “We’re done with the bodies.  We’ll be leaving in about thirty minutes.”

Cursing, Victory got to her feet.  “I can have relations with whomever I please,” she growled.

“While this is true,” Lion said, examining her fingernails, “I am dedicated to protecting the royal blood from all threats.  I would have to say that
that
—” she gestured at the Emp on his back, “—is a threat.”

“How?!” Victory cried.  “He healed Whip!  And the Cooper child.”

“I
know
he healed Whip, and that is the reason I haven’t killed him yet,” Lion growled.  The Praetorian looked disturbed.  Torn.  She turned to give Dragomir another glare.  “Your father hunts them for a reason, Princess.  Emps have the ability to sway the way a person thinks, one way or the other.  I find it
extremely
odd that you were planning his demise not three days ago, yet after your apparent heart-attack this morning—which we
still
haven’t figured out the cause, I might add—you’ve been doing nothing but rubbing yourself against him like a horny puppy.”

Victory gasped.

Dragomir still remained solidly on the ground, watching the Praetorian warily.  “Am I okay to stand?” he asked, softly.

“He opened my ramas,” Victory growled.

Lion’s face tightened.  “And just what does that mean, milady?”  When Victory did not respond, she added, “Because it sounds like he did exactly what I’ve been afraid of.”

“He healed me,” Victory snapped.

“Did he?”  Lion watched her carefully.

“I feel better,” Victory retorted.

“I understand that,” Lion said.  “And that, too, has kept him alive when all my instincts have been telling me to gut him.  But did he
heal
you, or do something else?”

Blushing, Victory glanced down at the Emp on the ground.  She
did
feel better.  But even before her capture, she had
never
felt so free to let a man explore her…  Had he simply removed her inhibitions?  And what of that odd tugging sensation in her chest?  “He said he bound himself to me,” Victory muttered.