Page 9 of The Alien Warlord's Fated Mate

He dropped her on the bed in the middle of one of her sputterings and followed her down, quickly pulling her into the curve of his body before she could mount a defense. Her ass fitted nicely against his hips, enticing him into arousal with every pleasurable wiggle.

She stilled abruptly and whispered, “Why are we in bed?”

“To rest.” He waited until she’d relaxed before rubbing the tip of his horn against her temple. Solely to elicit her delectable outrage, he added, “We may rut now, if you wish. What are the pleasure points for a human female?”

The last he tacked on even though he well knew those pleasure points, having studied such guides as could be found on the human internet.

Immediately, Mia slapped at his restraining arm and tried to wiggle out of his grasp. “Oh, my God, I can’t believe you! Kidnapping me. Taking me away to some, somejungle planet, then acting like it’s no big deal when you throw me onto your bed and try to have your wicked way with me.”

He grinned at her response, a very human gesture he’d learned to appreciate, despite the baring of teeth. How could he not? She pleased him so.

Then, because he could, he teased her with a gentle chide. “Your responses are becoming predictable, mate.”

She glared at him over her shoulder, then turned away, curled into a ball, and muttered, “Predictable. Hmph. Barbarian.”

“My name is Zoran,” he replied.

“I could make so many jokes right now about Zoran the Barbarian. But I won’t. Unlike some aliens, I’m civilized.” She flopped over and turned her hot-eyed glare on him again. “And Iam notrutting with you.”

“You will.” He whistled the console above the bed on and set it to show a countdown of their arrival in Zephyrian space. “But because you are human and unused to our ways, you may have time to adjust to your situation.”

She warily studied the display, worrying at her lower lip with small white teeth. “In English, please.”

Obligingly, he changed the countdown to display numerals she could read. As soon as they shifted, she paled. “Thirty-three hours? You’re giving me a day and a half before forcing yourself on me?”

“There will be no force,” he assured her, even knowing he would have to fight against the mating instinct to fulfill that promise. He would protect his mate unto his dying breath.

Even from himself.

The thought of protecting her satisfied him no end, eating away at some of the burden he carried, soothing him. Steadier now, more resolved, he whistled the console off, then the lights, and pulled her back into the curve of his body, wrapping himself protectively around her softer, much smaller form. “Rest now, Mia. We will transition again soon, and you do not wish to be awake then.”

“A day and a half,” she whispered. “I should’ve called in sick this morning.”

“I would have found you anyway. You are mine, littleklika. Mine to mate, mine to protect.”

Mine to love, he added silently, and willed the hope swelling within him to subside. It was too soon for hope, too soon to rest the fate of an entire culture on her narrow, human shoulders. Too soon to show her how important she really was to him and his people.

He rubbed the tip of his horn over her temple again, licked the graceful column of her throat, and settled her firmly against him, savoring the taste of her delicate skin on his tongue. “All will be as it should. Trust in me.”

If she heard him, she did not respond. Soon, she relaxed into sleep, and he followed. He was beginning to suspect he would follow her anywhere.

Chapter Three

A low, pleasant rumbling beneath her cheek woke Mia from a deep and dreamless sleep. The best sleep she’d had in ages. She stretched, shifting her leg along a hard length of muscle and her hand down warm, smooth skin.

“Time’s it?” she mumbled.

“Time to rut,” a familiar, humor-tinged voice said.

Mia’s eyes popped open on a gasp. She pushed herself upright and stared down at Zoran’s strong features, horrified. “I thought you were a dream.”

“I can be, if you wish.” His hand covered hers where it rested against him and shifted it lower, his gaze so dark and hot, she nearly melted from that look alone. “Do not stop.”

She stared for a moment at her hand under his, low on his washboard abdomen, just above the thin gray sheet covering his lower body, then yanked it away as if scalded. “Oh, my God. You corrupted me in my sleep.”

“If I had corrupted you, we would now be rutting.”

“Now who’s being predictable?” she huffed. “Besides, you promised to give me some time.”

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