Page 43 of Hunting the Warlord's Daughter

He rocked inside her for the longest time, slower and slower, until his limbs were too spent to hold his weight. She let out the longest of contented sighs, wrapping him in a lazy hug. He gathered her close and gazed at the ceiling, feeling both warm and hollowed out—and oddly reassured. It wasn’t just her physical closeness; there was something else. Something more.

Something totally outside his experience.

He was a stranger to romantic love. Perhaps even afraid of it. He always swung between his fear of losing Wren and not being whom she needed—of being too damaged. Yet, in that moment, holding her like this felt natural—good and right.

His thoughts floated back to his childhood on the estate. After the beatings, healed again by nano-meds, he’d run out to play with Kaz and Bolivarr, both of whom remained untouched by Karbon’s cruel hand. He ran to them to be made human again in his soul. He hadn’t felt that way since childhood—human—and hadn’t expected he still could. He’d thought himself beyond repair. Now, he saw how he might have been wrong.

Wren made him feel human again in his soul.

CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE

“Are you still breathing?You sleep like the dead.” Showered and dressed, Aral stood next to his bunk. Wren was sprawled on her stomach, her arms and legs taking up much of the mattress’s limited acreage—one arm flung out to the side, the other thrown over her head. Her shirt had worked its way up, exposing her waist, her tempting, pantie-clad ass, and her strong, toned thighs. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips parted. A few strands of hair had spilled over her face, billowing with each puff of breath. Why did she have to look so… delicious?

He didn’t consider himself a gentle man, yet he bent over the bunk, gently thumbing away those wisps of hair. Still, she didn’t move. He began concocting how he’d like to wake her. Oh, the methods he’d use…

Blast. He was rock-throbbing hard—again.

He pulled on his boots and fastened his utility belt—not at all quietly—and still, she didn’t wake. They’d enjoyed a heated round of sex. Even so, he couldn’t fathom how anyone could sleep that deeply. Though he very much liked that she trusted him enough to sleep that soundly in his presence. It was, in a way, the ultimate compliment. Nothing, not even Kaz noisily going about her business, had roused her.

“What’s your secret for such slumber, my sprite?” A clear conscience? Dreams instead of nightmares?

Everything that eluded him, he was certain.

Smoothing away her hair, he bent down and pressed the lightest of kisses to the nape of her neck.

“I felt that.”

He smirked. “Caught in the act.”

She rolled onto her back, her smile sleepy. “You can keep doing that, you know.”

“I certainly can, but stopping myself will be a problem.”

She stretched. “Did you finally get back to sleep?”

“Aye, a full night’s worth. A miraculous feat. Sleeping with you could become a habit.”

“Only say it if you mean it. Oh, and I like when you call me sprite.”

“Of course you did. Your superpower.”

“Yours is kissing, you know. And other things, as I’ve come to find out. Anything else, Aral?”

He wanted to fuck her senseless—right there, right now—and let her decide.

As if she’d read his mind, her violet eyes turned as black as the band dividing twilight and space. “I’ll show you later,” he said.

Her smile spread like the sunrise. She sat up, keeping her weight on her hands, thrusting her breasts forward—unintentionally, he assumed, but pulling his eyes away took everything he had.

He stepped toward the door. “I’m ending this conversation—else I’ll want to continue it in ways that keep us from getting any work done. We’ll be making another jump. The longest one yet. Best you have some food in your belly before we do. I’ll be in the galley. Come get your delicious gourmet Nutri-pak breakfast before it grows cold.”

He straightened his uniform and let himself out of the room. He stopped in the corridor and sagged back against the bulkhead, staring unseeing at the rivets on the opposite wall. He could still feel her lips on his. Could taste them—could tasteher. Rarely did he consider shirking his duties, but he wanted to turn around, dive back into the bunk, and spend the rest of the day making love to her.

Kaz came down the corridor, carrying a wrench and a rag. She wore her old Imperial red uniform pants, gleaming black boots, and a black tank top. With her hair tucked behind her ears, her lobes were conspicuously bare without her trademark red diamonds. “I finally fixed that rattle in the aft interior hatch—and the seals are replaced in the backup hydro-tank. I’ll see to that cranky aux generator this afternoon.” She stopped abruptly when Wren, messy-haired and in only her shirt, exited his quarters and shot past them.

“Well.” Kaz lifted a brow at him.

He wanted to answer with a broad grin. Instead, he shot her an I-don’t-want-to-discuss-it-now look and prepared a steaming mug of stim-tea before stalking to the galley table, sliding his data-vis closer to view the latest news stream. He blinked, not believing his eyes. “Mission: Origins seeks to unravel mystery of Ara Ana,” he read aloud.

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