Page 15 of Surrender
Last night’s conversation resurfaced in her mind and she flushed as Merokk guided her outside the tent into the cool evening for a breath of fresh air. Fiona’s only escape from work and the 24/7 care of her mother had been in books, and her taste in books veered toward the erotic side. She’d read a few BDSM romances in her day. Well, more than a few. But she’d never imagined she would get to experience that sort of relationship on her own, especially with a huge alien warrior she was forced to marry.
“We’re leaving now,” he whispered into her ear. His eyes held a dark dangerous gleam, and his grip on her forearm tightened. His nostrils flared and his muscles tensed, a feral look coming upon him that made her shiver with anticipation.
“You just told your friends we’d be back in a few minutes,” Fiona replied, worried they would be breaking some kind of Kall social etiquette with which she wasn’t familiar.
“I’ve just changed my mind.” He nipped her ear, and she drew in a quick breath. “I’m your husband and I say we leave now.” His tone remained teasing but firm, and Fiona practically melted at his feet. His deep, seductive voice had her mesmerized and ready to agree to anything.
“Yes, sir,” she said breathily, gazing up at the former Kall warrior she now called husband.
He pressed a button on his jacket sleeve and his ship appeared, hovering over the lawn, near the tall fence that surrounded the property. Fiona gazed at its brilliant lights in wonder.
“Our house will be ready soon,” he said, “but until then I prefer to stay on my ship. It’s been my home these past six months.”
These past six months.
His words pierced through her, bringing a sharp dose of reality.
The war. The bloodshed.
If he and his fellow Kall warriors hadn’t come to Earth in their ships, Fiona would be at home with her mother in New York, probably enjoying a post-dinner cup of tea right about now. Her hometown was gone though, blown to bits—or so she’d heard. Her friends were either dead or scattered. And Fiona was about to take the phrasesleeping with the enemyto a whole new level.
She seriously hoped last night wasn’t an anomaly.
She’d enjoyed his touch then and fervently hoped the visceral responses he stirred within her would help ease her fluttering nerves.
The boarding steps of theWannokdescended with a hum, and Merokk motioned for her to walk ahead of him.
This is it.
Her palms began to sweat, and she fisted them into her white wrap. Her nerves were in overdrive, and it was all she could do not to trip up the steps.
Merokk brushed up behind her at the top of the stairs and called out a command in his own tongue, a deeply guttural string of vocabulary Fiona doubted she would ever be able to understand.
She turned and watched as the steps folded up into the ship, molding to the wall as the door sealed them inside.
Merokk had mentioned they would move into a house soon, and she found herself wondering what it would look like. Would it be warm or sterile? Would she be allowed to make any changes, to make it feel more like a real home?
Her heart sank a little. No matter how many changes she might make, it likely wouldn’t ever feel like a true home. After the war, as she struggled with day-to-day existence in Camp Syracuse, she used to dream about running away to find a cozy, warm place to live with her mother, a place where medical supplies and food weren’t a rarity. A place that was safe.
She pushed the thought aside and swallowed hard.
Fiona shook her head slightly. Now wasn’t the time to think about their house or the loss of her dreams. It was her wedding night, and she doubted Merokk would tolerate a distracted bride. Yesterday, he’d informed her that he expected her to please him.
She glanced up at her husband and was taken aback by the raw, burning glow in his dark eyes, as well as the unmistakable glimmer of affection. One look and her worries started to fade, if only a little. Her breath also hitched in her chest and quivers of awareness besieged her. He was so large and imposing, she wondered if she would ever feel truly comfortable around him.
Despite his identity as a Kall warrior, she found herself drawn to him. Sometimes, she even felt hopeful when she looked at him, especially given the patience he’d exhibited thus far. Hopeful that maybe she could find some semblance of happiness as his wife.
Given what she knew of Kall warriors, she had expected him to be a cold, calculating brute—an unfeeling monster who was quick to hurt her when she displeased him. Yet she couldn’t honestly claim he was cruel.
Her pulse quickened when he moved closer, his nearness causing her to feel momentarily dizzy, but in a pleasant sort of way. Goosebumps rose on her arms even as heated tremors rippled through her. She felt pleasantly delirious and couldn’t seem to calm her racing heart. Warm pulses affected her between her thighs, a deep relentless ache building in her womanly core. She’d never known such anticipation in her whole life.
Her heart lurched.
Was she really looking forward to her wedding night?
Reaching out, he trailed a finger down her cheek, all the way to the hollow of her throat. A streak of fire followed in the wake of his touch, and a jolt of arousal ricocheted through Fiona’s center, straight to her clit. He cupped her face and pressed a kiss that was light yet full of promise to her lips.
He broke away and peered down at her, holding her captive with his dark, otherworldly eyes. Her mouth went dry and all rational thought fled her mind. He stroked her hair, allowing his fingers to trail over her cheeks and her neck.
