His Highness the Duke Page 6

  “What are you?” she whispered, awed by the change in him. Her nails scratched his chest but the new texture was as hard as metal.

  As fast as it came, the shifted form left. Her nails bit into his chest and her hands molded into his skin. His voice hoarse, he answered, “Dragon-shifter.” But his concentration wasn’t on his words. He grabbed her hips and lifted her. Aeron felt herself on the brink of pushing down. A moment of confusion passed between them. The length of his shaft found it’s opening, probing just inside the depths.

  Something rational tried to work its way into her brain, but the thought never fully formed. Everything centered on that moment and the next blissful sensation. At the same second he closed his eyes and pulled her down onto his shaft, she released the tension in her legs and pressed down to take him in. The thick probe of his shaft stretched her.

  Aeron moaned. He rocked gently, still holding on to her hips. Her body had been teased to the point of explosion, and now the rocking pressure of him inside her pushed her over the edge. She gave a soft cry as she climaxed. It was unlike anything she’d ever felt. Her muscles squeezed him tight as her entire length tensed. He lifted her a little bit and then dropped her down. Bron jerked with release, joining her climax. Time refused to move and they stayed frozen in that position for a long time. It was perfection.

  The gods were going to curse them.

  What had he done? Their marriage was cursed.

  Bron stared at Aeron’s face, watching the ultimate pleasure become replaced by stunned horror. She must have felt it, too. They were not supposed to fully join this night. The Breeding Festival was meant as a night of discovery only. If the others found out what they had done, his honor would be tarnished. Bron closed his eyes. His honor was already tarnished. He knew what they’d done.

  Aeron slowly pulled off his body. “What have I done?”

  Bron instantly rolled to sitting, cupping her face in his hands to stop her when she would get of the bed. She paused, looking at him. Her pale face and stricken expression tore at his insides, compounding his guilt. She was his bride. She had every reason to trust him to protect her and he’d failed. First, he’d been so preoccupied trying not to hope for a bride that he’d missed her in the receiving line. Then, he didn’t try harder to explain about the removal of the mask when she asked him if he could remove it and not be married. He should have clarified that if she removed the mask it would bind her to him no matter what happened, but he’d been desperate to seal their union. Third, and perhaps the most grievous offense to their now joined honor, was the fact he had taken her fully on their wedding night.

  She had only known him for a short time and in that short time he’d failed her, failed himself, failed his family. She’d tested him with her body and he’d failed. The weight of it pressed in on him. He was the High Duke of Draig, held to the highest of standards. He was to be an example to his people. Perhaps this is why the gods made him wait so many years for a bride. They knew he was not worthy. They knew he would fail. And finally, after all that waiting, he’d proven the fears of the gods right. He failed.

  Failed.

  No wonder she was looking at him like that. She had bound herself to a man with tarnished honor. She had trusted him.

  Failed.

  “I will set this right,” Bron swore. He brushed the hair from her face as he held her cheeks in his hands, keeping his eyes on hers. “The gods will not curse us. I will atone. I will make this right. They will understand that I waited so long for you. I will repair my honor for you if it takes the rest of my days, Aeron. I swear it on my life.”

  She still didn’t move. He wasn’t even sure she heard him. She blinked once, twice, but that was it.

  “Remain here.” He wanted to kiss her, but he didn’t dare. “I will come back for you in the morning. I will take care of everything. I will make this right.”

  Bron grabbed his loincloth and hurried from the tent. He wasn’t sure how he would keep his promise, but he would find a way. By all the gods, he would find a way.

  Aeron vaguely heard Bron speaking to her before he left the tent. She sat on the bed, stunned, horrified, terrified. Her hand moved to cover her stomach. The pleasure of Bron’s touch had been too much to resist. She couldn’t stop herself. She’d been possessed. It felt unlike anything she’d ever experienced, and now the residual pain of their joining was an all too real reminder of her impending death.

  Mortality. It wasn’t something she was supposed to face. That was why women from her planet—make that her exploded non-existent planet—used transmitters to exchange pleasure essences. She and Riona were the last of their kind. The only men in the universe who understood her biological clock were dead.

  “And I’m about to join them,” she whispered. Tears entered her eyes. “I’m dying.”

  She glanced around when no one answered. Bron had left her and she desperately wanted him there to hold her, to somehow reassure her. Yes, he was a stranger, but he was the only thing she had. She thought of her sister, but Riona would provide little comfort. She might understand, but the woman would merely mock her or, worse, look at her with pity.

  The empty tent provided little solace. Crying harder, Aeron collapsed onto the bed. “What have I done? What have I done?”

  5

  Bron knelt in the dark temple, unmoving, arms outstretched, until dawn peeked through the narrow stone window. Even then, as his arms dropped from exhaustion, did he remain, until the sunlight traveled down the wall to hit upon his face. His mind replayed the events of the evening, of his failures, over and over again.

  His knees ached when he finally stood, but he ignored the discomfort. He wanted to go to Aeron, but first he needed to make an appearance at the preliminary showing before the king and queen. Many of the grooms did not make it to that part of the traditional ceremony. The elders tended to look the other way at the absences, but Bron was not about to allow another slip in propriety.

  The three suns were shining brightly on the red Qurilixian soil. The soft green sky began to replace the darkness. Knowing where the servants would keep the clothing, he made his way through the forest, over yellow fern groundcover and fallen colossal leaves. Small animals shifted the ferns from beneath. He sensed rather than saw them. A purple bird flew nearby. The supply tent looked like the others without a banner to signify a family line. No one questioned him as he entered, found his clothing and quickly slipped into it. He left the loincloth behind, as he would no longer need it. The loosely fitted, black pants and dark red tunic shirt, though nicely made, were more in line with what he wore every day. Gold embroidered trim decorated the shirt’s edges. It was the first time he’d worn the garment and it felt a bit tight around his shoulders. Before he left, he ordered a man to bring Aeron the gown he’d ordered made eight years ago for a new wife. It matched his clothing.

  The brides were still sleeping. It was expected they would be absent this morning if the men had done their duty by them. The thought caused Bron to look down at his crystal. Luckily it still glowed. Had it stopped there would have been no hope for him.

  Seeing the councilmen gathered around his uncle, the king, he nodded and took his place in line. He wondered if they knew his shameful secret, if they could detect what he had done. Other new husbands stood proudly, waiting to be acknowledged. Like most Draig ceremonies this one would be short. Bron did not see his brothers in attendance, nor three of the four princes. Prince Ualan grinned at him. Bron nodded once as he stood next to him.

  “Many blessings, cousin,” Bron said.

  “Many blessings,” Ualan answered. The man could barely contain his excitement. “It is a fine morning, is it not? Though I see our younger brothers did not make it out of bed.”

  “The burden of being oldest,” Bron answered. It was an old joke between them. Ualan was the oldest prince and heir to the throne. They understood each other. They both had high expectations placed on them as the first born sons.

  “One tha
t does not seem so heavy today. We are truly families blessed,” said the prince.

  Before Bron could answer, a councilman called to the line of new husbands, “Lord Ualan?”

  “It’s done.” Ualan stepped forward, lifted his hand high to the council to show the glowing crystal before turning to show it to all gathered. The council acknowledged in silent approval of him and waited for the next man to step forward. Ualan left the area.

  Bron, being next in rank followed his cousin’s example. Nervously, he took the crystal from his neck, praying it wouldn’t stop glowing as he held it above his head. “It is done.” The words were not as strong as Ualan’s had been, but they were loud enough. The elders nodded in acknowledgement. Bron turned to go, sighing with relief. The only thing left was to present his bride, and then they could go home and he could find a way to restore his honor, but more importantly, he could begin to make it up to his wife.

  Aeron took a drink of wine, wishing it were water but not really caring. She was thankful for the torches, though their low flame was no longer needed. Without them, she would have spent the night alone in the alien darkness. Bron had not returned to the tent. The fact stung, though not as badly as the reason for his going. In one second she had changed everything. Her life was over.

  When she closed her eyes, she remembered the look on his face, the hesitance in his expression as she stayed poised over him. He had wanted to stop her. His people’s traditions demanded she stop. But she’d been the one in control of the situation. She’d been on top of him, rubbing against him, feeling him, needing him. The memory of it caused an ache to build inside her. She wanted him again. She wanted the sensations, the feelings, the mindless everything.

  And yet with the idea of pleasure came an even more real torment. Mortality. She was dying. Her mother had never explained the full bittersweet reality to her. Perhaps she’d been too young to understand it. To experience such deep pleasure, surely what was the pinnacle of what life had to offer, was to court death.

  What had been an eternity was now summed up into a few short years. Aeron felt a panic inside her. There wasn’t much time left. There was so much she needed to do, needed to say and see and be. She began to pace the tent, pulling at the arm straps hanging from her waist. There hardly seemed enough hours in the day now. How would she fit it all in?

  “My lady, may I enter?”

  Aeron nearly screamed at the male voice. Her heart was beating so fast. “Yes?”

  She recognized the servant from the night before. He was carrying a red bundle in his arms. Seeing her, he bowed his head. “My lady’s gown.”

  Aeron took it from him and said nothing. She wondered if he knew what she’d done. Logic told her she wouldn’t look or smell or be different, but still the knowledge of it burned so brightly in her mind she was sure everyone else would automatically sense it. He left without comment.

  She laid the gown on the bed and went to the tub. The water wasn’t as hot as the night before, but she didn’t care as she quickly cleaned the restless night from her skin. The deep red of the gown was a strange color choice for her, but then she was only used to wearing Federation black. The bodice had a loose fit and the skirt was about two inches too long. Still, the gold embroidery along the edges was beautiful. Were the stitches meant to symbolize stylized dragons? She couldn’t be sure.

  Thinking of dragons only made her think of her shifter lover, which made her remember pleasure, which made her remember death, which made her…

  “You are beautiful, my lady.”

  The sound of Bron’s voice knocked every thought from her head. She turned to him. He was in a matching red tunic with a large dragon emblem sewn on the chest. The styles of the clothing were similar in cut, clearly made as a set. In a strange way it made her feel as if she belonged to him. “Thank you.”

  He stood in front of the front flap, not making a move to come inside the tent. His gaze roamed her face, searching her. When neither of them spoke, he moved toward the food table and poured a goblet of wine. Aeron touched her damp hair, quickly smoothing it with her hands. Then, seeing a comb, she made fast work of the long length.

  Bron sipped the liquor. He leaned back against the table, watching her pull at her hair. The silence became unbearable and she tried to think of anything she could to fill it.

  “Did you sleep well?” she inquired. It wasn’t what she wanted to know. What did he think about what happened? How did she do?

  How did I do? Aeron grimaced. Was she really looking for a performance review from the man she’d tied up and forced her virginity upon?

  “I did not sleep.” He set the goblet down on the table. “I was in the temple trying to atone for what happened.”

  “Atone?” she repeated. It wasn’t exactly the thing a girl waited to hear from her first lover.

  “I know one night cannot make up for what happened, but I assure you I will restore our family’s honor if it takes a lifetime.” Bron made a move to take the goblet, but stopped mid-action. Instead, he came toward her. “The activities of last night were not as I intended.”

  She was about to answer, but the crystal around his neck began to glow and she forgot what she was going to say. Its pulsing light mesmerized her.

  Bron followed her gaze down. “We should finish this before the crystal gets too impatient and enthralls us both. Come.”

  “Where?”

  “I must present you to the council as my wife.” Bron picked up her hand in his.

  “I can’t be your wife. I told you I was not here to marry.” Aeron again looked at his crystal. It was so pretty. She wanted to touch it.

  “Considering what was done here, I think it is a little late for that,” he said. “You are my wife. The rest of the morning is merely a formality. ”

  “No, you don’t understand. I came here to talk to someone about the ore mines.” She pulled her hand from his. The physical contact only made it hard to think. “I can’t be married.”

  “There will be time for that after we finish the ceremony and go home.”

  “Home?” she repeated. “My home is on a spaceship orbiting a military base.”

  “Your home is in my castle.”

  “This is not acceptable. I need time to think. Everything is rushing around in my head and—”

  “Come to the presentation with me. Finish the ceremony. Then, afterwards, I promise we will discuss the ore, your home, anything that you wish.” He sighed. “Please, I ask you, do this. After last night... Please, help me finish the ceremony. It is a matter of my family’s honor.”

  He seemed so earnest that all she could do was nod her head in agreement. “All right. We’ll do the ceremony and figure this mess out later.”

  The tension in his arms lessened. “Thank you, my lady.”

  Bron couldn’t help but notice the glazed look in Aeron’s eyes. Her will, as well as her attention, was captured by his crystal. He understood because he too felt the pull. It convinced him all the more that she was meant to be his wife. Even now he wanted to touch her, to pull her back into the tent, into the bed, into his arms.

  He led her to the platform where the councilmen stood around royalty. The king and queen were both in regal purple and wore their crowns. They were seated in the center of the platform on thrones.

  Bron paused, turning to her. “What is your family name? Your people?”

  “Ah, oh, Aeron Grey. My people are,” she hesitated.

  When she didn’t finish, he took her arm in his. To his aunt and uncle, he said, “Queen Mede, King Llyr, may I present Lady Aeron Grey.”

  “You must be eager,” the king said, laughing. “You are the first to arrive.”

  The queen began speaking in the Qurilixian tongue to her husband. Bron hid his smile. When she finished, the king looked properly chastised, though hardly sorry for his teasing. Queen Mede was a rare Qurilixian-born woman, but that was not how she came to be married to the king. Their match was fated just as everyone else’
s was.

  “Proceed,” the queen ordered.

  Bron bowed, took the crystal from his neck and handed it to Aeron. She stared at it, rubbing the glowing stone. “Break it.”

  “But,” she whispered, “it is so pretty.”

  “Smash it,” Bron insisted.

  She frowned at him and curled her fingers around the stone. “I don’t want to. I want to keep it. It’s pretty.”

  “High Duke?” the queen asked.

  “One moment,” he said. The crowd that gathered to watch began to chuckle and whisper amongst themselves. He grabbed Aeron’s wrist and hissed into her ear. “What are you doing? We are in public. Smash the crystal!”

  “No!” she protested, trying to get her wrist free. “Let go. I want to keep it.”

  “God’s Bones! Smash the crystal, Aeron.” Bron swore, well aware that those around them could probably tune in to every word. Glancing up, he saw the shift of yellow in the council’s eyes. Yes, they were definitely listening in.

  Bron squeezed the tendons in her wrist forcing her to loosen her hold. Shaking her hand, he made her drop the crystal. Aeron gasped in protest and moved to pick it up from the red earth with her free hand. He pulled her captured hand higher, stopping her. Aeron’s eyes met his as she was forced to stand tall. He expected her to fight him. Instead, she smiled. The look momentarily took him off guard.

  Aeron took advantage of his stunned state. Lifting on her toes, she grabbed his face with her free hand and kissed him. The crowd laughed and cheered, calling out provocative suggestions to the couple. Bron detected the faint smell of liquor on his people and knew they were still rowdy from the night before. And Aeron was giving them a show.

  He was about to pull her away when her tongue touched his lips. He realized this was the first time they’d really kissed. A low moan left him. He felt the crystal pulse at his feet, as if it cocooned them in its power. His hand loosened on her wrist. Her fingers wound into his hair, pulling him closer.