Empress Hiding Page 22

  And Runa roared her amusement at her Chiyoto’s mischievousness – just as they and Rafal approached the table that was prepared and isolated with plants and such – until Runa realized the words that rang through her Chiyoto’s mind during that mischievousness.

  My Rafal. He is mine.

  And Runa knew then that things were much more serious than she had originally thought – that the sample of Rafal’s blood was not all her Chiyoto wanted this time – that he and that water beast the dragoness still could not identify had managed to convince Chiyoto that the Crowned Prince was serious about the whole mate thing.

  But then – scenting his nearness and sensing her Chiyoto’s increased pulse rate (again!) – Runa chanced a momentary peek through Chiyoto’s eyes and into Rafal’s.

  And, just like that, Runa, too, wanted to believe this Rafal’s words – the depth of passion and tenderness that stared back at them both was enough to pull even the uncivilized Runa into a rudimentary belief, of sorts.

  Belief in a Crimson whose last name alone should make her want to break the bonds of the Keeper and have him for a nutritious snack.

  “You are wrong, proud Runa. We have accepted our mate and all that she is. It is time you begin to do the same.”

  But Rafal had accepted Chiyoto – the Blood-borne cognate that housed an unknown predator – not the Heiress – the soon-to-be Empress – that Runa and Chiyoto were together.

  It was a difference that could, on one hand, completely alter the future of the Empire by giving it back its Empress or, on the other hand, it could slay her Treasure by shattering her innocent heart.

  And result in their execution.

  Because the fact that they were Heiress made them greater than the Crimson Prince, and it was a complete unknown whether or not this Rafal and his ego could handle such a circumstance.

  Or would allow his ascension to the throne to be usurped by the one to whom it rightfully belonged.

  Runa sat back and pondered whether a rudimentary belief was grounds enough to accept Rafal’s truce proposal.

  At least on a temporary basis.

  “I would not breathe a kahrolasi word of our knowledge when you speak to him, Hondo,” Kilgar once again messed with his unruly hair as he and his Prince stood looking at the far rise over which the rover would materialize shortly – the demercriere’s presentation had released the previous handiwork done by last night’s females whose names neither he nor his beast could remember – not that the beast paid any mind whatsoever to any of Kilgar’s ‘exercises’, “Just tell the pich it looked as though their surveyor” – the demercriere growled with irritation – “was attacked somewhere beyond our immediate perimeter.”

  Hondo grunted.

  “I will use that if contacted,” Hondo’s voice still echoed his desire to inflict harm or worse on his sire, “But I have no plans of initiating such. We would speak with Rafal day after tomorrow.”

  They stood in silence – their presence a reassurance to each other – as the Prince scratched his large, bare chest and massive biceps in anticipation of holding his family. Kilgar was once again in his uniform.

  The rover topped the rise and began its descent – its pathway initially angled toward another part of the compound until a figure appeared running toward it. Both Hondo and Kilgar recognized Balstir’s gait as he raced to meet the rover, the vehicle altering its path within seconds of the Teyman’s latching onto the side harness with the other five guards as the rover now drove straight for the Prince and his Guard Captain.

  Kilgar finally decided it best to get the subject finished and move on.

  “You know the target was not the twins as Shelvana surmised, right Hondo?”

  Although the Captain kept Hondo comfortably in his peripheral vision, he did not turn and face his friend directly but continued to stare at the approaching rover. A low, threatening growl emanated from the Prince as he tensed and, almost as quickly, made himself release the tightening of the muscles.

  Then Hondo actually let himself smile.

  “She will never be the submissive he desires – will never cower to him or before him – she is too wild and intuitive to see anything about him but what there really is,” Hondo’s smile became malicious and murder practically sang in his tone, “Which is a kahrolasd senile pich whose only companion is a dithering shentalingra who would just as soon stab him as bed him.”

  Kilgar’s entire insides twisted at the mental image the demercriere sent him with those words, and he groaned his disgust.

  “Aww, godsfall! There is a mental image I did not need!” Kilgar shook his head to clear it and move on as the two of them walked out into the starlight – a pleasurable growl emanating from both their beasts at the unexpected warmth on their cognate skins even as Kilgar chuckled his amusement only to temper it quickly, “Yeah, but that senile pich is the ruler of the whole kahrolasi Empire, Hondo.”

  Hondo’s beast growled again, but this time it was with a strong determination, “Not for long, birader,” the rover reached the hardened surface surrounding the hangar – its speed increasing with the decreased resistance of the smooth covering, and Hondo became quite distracted in finishing his statement – the wartrige could practically taste their mate and their offspring at this distance, “I believe the upcoming Anniversary Celebration would best serve the Empire as a Coronation Celebration instead.”

  Kilgar froze, and then chuckled and grasped his Prince’s shoulder.

  “That is the nicest declaration of war of which I have ever heard tell, my Prince.”

  Both Kilgar and Hondo bore an unhurried and even relaxed face to the approaching rover and guards, but both of their beasts understood and sensed the underlying tension surrounding the subject.

  Once again, Hondo did not even have to turn to face Kilgar as the rover stopped and its side door slid open, revealing the anticipating faces of his two handsome sons, “But we will be well-prepared, yes, my Captain?”

  Hondo squatted, his arms open wide for those two sons.

  Kilgar scratched his partially bared claw through Hondo’s jet black hair to reassure both his Prince and the wartrige he housed as he left Hondo’s side to approach the dismounting guards.

  “Our lives to your purpose, Prince Sadid,” Kilgar nodded in Shelvana’s direction as she stepped from the rover in her unique and graceful manner, “And to the protection of your family, My Lord.”

  Hondo turned his full attention to the bundles of energy he now embraced – he trusted Kilgar implicitly.

  Erol and Matin nipped at their patè’s jaw as he buried his nose in each of their hair and nipped them back on their ears. The wartrige growled in satisfaction, and both of the young males’ beasts returned the sound – although no one knew what beasts lurked there as of yet.

  Yearlan walked up to the three of them, a very serious look on his face.

  Hondo chanced a glance up at him since he was standing closer than normal – the Prince immediately reading a look of concern on his loyal steward’s face.

  Through the busy-ness of Erol’s and Matin’s affections, the Prince managed to address him.

  “Yearlan? What …?”

  Yearlan respectfully acknowledged his Prince’s address with a slight bow as he spoke, “I believe, Denka, that the young masters and I have an appointment with Hyndaus in the kitchen,” the steward quite obviously indicated Shelvana with both his head and body, “We shall leave you to greet the Somdech.”

  Yearlan took hold of one of each of the young males’ hands and led them away with talk of dessert and their favorite game of youth dranlien their Amca Kilgar had recently given them.

  When Hondo’s eyes met Shelvana’s, the wartrige growled in need and Hondo’s body began to ache as their bond went active immediately, and he could sense her waning energy. Her lithe form wearing only the sparring outfit was in his arms
before either of them could take another breath.

  Even as Hondo’s arms flattened her body to him, he heard her whisper to him – out loud? In his head? He was not even sure their connection was so deep at the moment, “I did not …,” she swallowed hard as a tremor ran through her body, vibrating Hondo all the way down to both his and his beast’s soul, “My Hondo, I …”

  And Hondo knew. Shelvana had denied herself the blood of the kill – probably because of the guards’ presence – and her body was now drained from the hunt and the take down.

  Understanding completely, Hondo reached up with an instantly bared claw and sliced a short but deep gash below his own collar bone – just where the two main arteries running between his head and his dual-heart system were closest to the surface – and blood trickled immediately and freely there.

  “Take all that you need, shioliah,” Hondo gently yet firmly palmed the back of her neck and pressed her open mouth to the wound as he felt her claws grasp his upper back, “My life is yours.”

  And even as her mouth began to suckle his flesh and her tongue lap at the skin around it, his groin heated uncontrollably – the hardening of his substantial member almost instantaneous. Shelvana sighed in contentment with the energy that was being fed back into her – her body pressing into her mate’s with an increased urgency for togetherness. And Hondo’s need to sate himself on her blended with his wartrige’s need to lay down their mate and be inside of her – such was the only confirmation his beast would understand that she was unharmed by the traumatic events of the morning.

  “Wrap your legs around me, kedi,” Hondo whispered against her ear – the wartrige prominent in his voice even as he grasped her buttocks with wide-open palms, “Your mate has need of you as well.”

  Hondo had not completed the second part of his sensual command before Shelvana’s legs were wrapped eagerly around him, and she had begun roughly rubbing her sex area up and down his hard length – the marabilla snarling hungrily through her feeding.

  Hondo’s eyes were half closed with lust – the wartrige lunging inside for a taste of its mate – as he rushed them to the nearest storage room – his need to be inside of his Shelvana increasing almost exponentially as his sensory world closed to all but her and the bond that linked them together – his trust in his guards without question.

  Hondo slammed the door behind them and reached between their heated bodies to rip the pants from both of their midsections. He shoved his wonderfully feral Shelvana against the wall – simultaneously seating himself to the hilt inside of her – a small growl of approval emanating from her as she threw her head back in reaction to the invasion. Hondo reveled in the beautiful wildness of her as she pulled her head forward, her beautiful glowing eyes piercing his vision, to reveal a breathtakingly fierce smile ringed in his own blood as she spoke.

  “Harder, my Prince,” she leaned in to lick closed the wound on his upper chest as her breathing increased with his thrusts – all civility and grace now gone from her being, “Let us feel your sac pound against me.”

  Hondo growled ferociously in response, thrusting upward even as the wartrige leaned in to take Shelvana’s neck in possession. They bit hard – really hard – and Shelvana screamed as her body and her sheath convulsed on and around him. The intense wringing of his member with the undulations of her feminine walls pushed Hondo past oblivion as both he and his wartrige cried out simultaneously with Hondo’s release.

  As the Prince poured himself into his Shelvana and the Somdech milked all she could from her Hondo, he slowly bent his knees and lowered them both to the floor – both of their breathing ragged and winded. But as his Shelvana settled onto his lap – thighs on either side of his muscular torso, his member still deep inside of her, Hondo buried his face in her hair and promised,

  “He will die, my güzel kedi,” Hondo’s hands massaged her lower back as her sheath continued to hold and massage him, “No one threatens my family and lives” – he took a shuddered breath and pushed her impossibly further down onto him, grunting with final relief – “No one.”

  Shelvana smiled in satisfaction as she wriggled on the pleasurable impalement and bent her head to the side so that her mate could gently lick the bite mark on her neck – her sighs of contentment and sated hunger running like a peaceful river through Hondo’s being.

  Rafal was still having a difficult time wrapping his mind around his Chiyoto’s words – it seemed that no matter the subject they broached, she surprised and amazed him with her answers.

  “So, your progenitor sent you away when you were but twelve cycles?”

  Chiyoto shyly yet boldly responded to his near-indictment of Mamere as an absentee parent – her voice only a hint above a whisper as her faintly-pink eyes gleamed at him, “It was for our own well-being, Rafal,” she put down her eating utensil and hardened her gaze, “Surely, you can see that.”

  “Because it is your laws that mandate the execution of all predators such as I am.” Unspoken but implied.

  Rafal backed off slightly, like she had physically stung him with her words. Then his beast roared inside in full agreement with Chiyoto – it was the laws of the Empire that made her choice to leave truly a choice between life and death.

  An image of the female triacate just hours before flashed through Rafal’s mind, and he reached out to touch her cheek in reassurance – his head gently nodding his understanding as he sighed.

  “But alone, shioliah? You were so young …,”

  Nuzzling his palm slightly where it rested on her cheek, Chiyoto shrugged and smiled again as she picked up her utensil once again, “Alone? No. I always have Runa,” she chuckled almost playfully, “And in the past couple of decades, we have become quite a good team.”

  Rafal nearly missed his mouth with his next bite.

  “Decades?” He put down his utensil and examined her beautiful young face – remembered how she curled into such a tight position on the bed last night, “How old …”

  Chiyoto looked away, feeling his disbelief an accusation. She had read all of the magazines and such – knew that she was much older than males in their society desired – that older females were usually ‘second-hand merchandise’ or simply “the leftovers” – felt that, perhaps, her admission of being nearly forty cycles was a singularly bad thing.

  But she would live so much longer than others – Mamere was nearly two hundred and fifty now – would have lived longer had she mated – her young thirty-seven cycles just did not seem that old. To her.

  Chiyoto swallowed that bite hard and her grip on her knife and fork tightened as she bucked up the courage to look back at Rafal.

  “I am sorry our age disappoints you, Prince Rafal,” But she would not look away from him, “I can assure you that there have been no other …”

  Rafal’s brow furrowed as he cut her off.

  “Shioliah,” Rafal raised a brow amusedly at her use of his title that no one ever used – that he forbade others to use – but that he enjoyed immensely from her lips, “Your Prince cares nothing about your age,” he let his voice sooth her as he touched her arm, allowing the sensations of their contact soothe him as well, “You simply appear much younger.”

  Chiyoto visibly relaxed and took a deep breath as that blush Rafal and his beast wanted to lick crept into her face. And they both smiled.

  “So-o-o, a good team, hmm?” Rafal tried to get her to continue, “In more ways than just finding Nelts?”

  He let his laughter show in his eyes as his smile crept larger on his face, and Chiyoto caught her breath. Rafal’s handsome face with a genuine smile simply took her breath away – and sent warming sensations coursing to both her breasts and between her thighs – and she blushed even deeper as she answered him.

  “Aye, Rafal,” he still had not released her arm, and she prayed to the Makers that he never would – Chiyoto looked down at the contrast of his d
eep skin against her much paler shade – it was all she could do not to throw herself at him as she looked back into his deep, emerald eyes, “You should have been present during the construction of our dwelling – I think even one who does not smile easily would have been thoroughly amused.”

  Rafal continued grinning.

  “Did you argue with the construction crew a lot, shioliah? Or was Runa not happy with their …”

  Chiyoto giggled at his misunderstanding.

  “No, Rafal, I told you we live alone,” she wiped her mouth as Mamere had taught her all those cycles ago, “Completely alone.”

  Rafal cocked his head and once again furrowed his brow.

  “We built the dwelling, Rafal,” Chiyoto continued, not stopping for his definitely confused look, “Oh, I am sure it is nothing of which the Crowned Prince would approve” – her eyes were playful as she placed her hand over his where it rested on her wrist – “No servants’ quarters and definitely no artwork or tapestries” – she leaned in closer to his side so that she could feel the warmth of him – he simply felt right – “But our back yard is huge with lots of space to run and” – she hesitated and decided against the word ‘roar’ – “And it has a large abandoned quarry where we like to swim” – she paused again while Runa lodged a protest on the ‘we’ in the latter part of that statement – “Okay, so Runa lets me swim if” – Chiyoto realized she could not tell Rafal the part about Runa flying or breathing her favorite energy plumes – “If we can agree on a trade.”