Parallel Attraction Page 31

  She had no understanding whatsoever of the meaning of the elders' pronouncements over them, but as they rambled on endlessly in Refarian, Jared's hold on her tightened anxiously. Speaking within their bond, she promised, I'm not going anywhere. She sensed his confusion, so she explained. You have a death grip on me.

  I need you this close, he whispered across their connection.

  She sensed an unsteady emotion within her mate. Was it seriously. . . fear?

  Yes, came his resonating voice.

  Why on earth?

  Because I'm getting married, he cried, the words practically jarring inside her brain. Sorry, he muttered.

  You'd better listen to these people, she cautioned with a quick burst of humor, because I don't have a clue what's being said.

  He pressed a kiss against the top of her head. Traditions, rites . . . It's boring; don't worry.

  When does it get exciting?

  When I start translating it for you.

  Oh…kay. No wonder you're holding on to me with the Vulcan death grip. You're bored, so you're trying to imagine life beyond this moment.

  I'm imagining all manner of things with you.

  Don't do it.

  Do what?

  Try to give me a mid-ceremony orgasm. She laughed and felt him grip her even more frantically. What are you doing? she asked as he shifted her in his arms.

  Hiding my erection.

  It's your own fault, you silly king.

  And on their banter went, as all the while they kept their faces as neutral and placid as possible. She wasn't sure they ever really listened to any of the ceremony—not until it reached a critical turning point. Jared released her then with a satisfied sigh, allowing his gaze to sweep over her, and turned to face Scott, where he stood slightly behind Jared. The other man, she noticed, had worn a permanent scowl throughout their ceremony—right up until the moment he glimpsed Jared's face. And then Scott's stern expression dissolved into one of the warmest, gentlest smiles she'd ever seen, a smile that told her she liked Scott Dillon—immensely. And from that moment on she knew she would always like him.

  Scott slipped something into Jared's waiting hand, and the two of them exchanged quiet words in their own language as they embraced.

  And then at last Jared turned back to face her and grasped both of her hands. "Mate, it is time—time for the sealing of our bond, the solidifying of that which already exists." Jared's dark eyes fixed on her, narrowing with emotion. "For the taking of us, one heart to another, one body and soul." One man, his queen, he finished softly across their bond. One lover, his lifemate. Oh, gods, Kelsey . . . I hardly want them to hear what I wish to say.

  It's okay, she promised him, as much within their bond as with her eyes.

  He nodded, then very slowly continued. "It is the tradition of the D'Aravni that the royal mark be passed upon the moment of the wedding seal. Our royal mark"—he released her hand, exposing the underside of his wrist to her—"that signifies our lineage." He opened his other hand, allowing a warm golden beam of his energy to fall upon his exposed skin. The now-familiar burst of light appeared between them, just above his wrist in the middle of the air. Magenta and blue and golden red spun and wove together like a mystical helix of energy. His energy. His mark and seal, and even though she'd seen it before, her hand flew to her mouth in sheer amazement. He bore a hidden mark that set him apart from all others of his species, at least the ones who were not of his line.

  Very slowly, dangerously even, he lifted his dark eyes until their gazes locked. The colors of his emblem reflected in the black depths of his eyes, and she knew he was calling to her. Summoning her. Making a gift of something exquisite and rare that was a crucial part of himself.

  What did he want? What was he offering her? She didn't understand, and shook her head.

  Love, he breathed, take it.

  Take what?

  I'm giving you my royal emblem. Take it, love. It belongs to you now, not just me, so go on and take it.

  How? Leave it to this man to confound her at such a crucial moment on their wedding day.

  He bowed, his head, a lopsided, charming smile appearing on his lips. How do you want to take it? The words were whispered with all the thrumming seduction he might utter during lovemaking.

  I-I don't know. I'm not sure.

  Actually, you do know, he corrected, his voice husky and teasing. Tell me what you feel inside. You're bursting with it, Kelsey; you just haven't quite figured it out.

  She stared at the floor between them, then swung her gaze about the chamber. One young elder, a woman, gave her an encouraging nod. They all expected her to know this answer! And he hadn't prepared her at all by telling her anything about what was expected. Panicked, she shook her head again. Just tell me. It was hard to conceal her annoyance, and of all things he only smiled more. So did Scott Dillon. So did every other person in the room; everyone beamed except for her.

  Just tell me! she shouted, staring again at his spinning colors between them, mesmerized by the beauty of such a mark, and knowing that he bore it hidden within his body. The swirling, coiling light was almost a kind of multidimensional tattoo. And what did you do with a tattoo? You wore it someplace sexy. Someplace where your lover might lick it and kiss it and play with it beneath his hand.

  You're starting to understand, he teased.

  I'm mad at you.

  No, love, you are crazy for me. Wild with it.

  He took hold of her shoulders and spun her away from him until she faced the other side of the room. Behind her, she felt the warming of his energy as he pulled back the clingy fabric of her dress, and then the light brushing of his fingertips against the small of her back.

  He knew. He knew exactly where she wanted his mark, and she'd never even so much as expressed it to herself. The skin at that small dipping curve of her spine felt like fire—as if something had stung her, setting the skin to burning and itching and crawling all at once.

  "Y-your m-mark?" she managed to stammer, though her mouth suddenly felt very thick, as though gauze were smothering her words. Her legs beneath her wobbled, her vision, swam, and he slipped both arms about her waist, pulling her close.

  That's why I've held you so near the whole time. The sealing ceremony is quite powerful. I didn't want you fainting during our wedding.

  And I-I just thought...

  Me a terrible seducer of human women?

  Yeah, that too.

  "It is done," Jared pronounced aloud for all to hear. "The human, Kelsey Wells, is now marked as queen, taken by me, J'Areshkadau Bnet D'Aravni, king of Refaria. We are mated. We are married. It is done."

  From behind her, he slid his large hand over her smaller one, cupping her palm against her abdomen, and before she realized what he was doing, he slipped a simple gold wedding band on her finger. "Now you say it," he whispered against her ear, sending a chill up her spine. "Tell them that it is done."

  "It is done," she repeated, feeling herself in a daze. "Th-the . . ." he gave her the words quickly within her mind, and she continued. "The queen has taken the king as mate. I have accepted his mark and he is taken by me, Kelsey Elizabeth Wells."

  "Tell them, 'We are mated,'" he prompted her softly, brushing his lips against her ear with a light kiss. She repeated the words, her voice strong and sure and resoundingly joyous, even if it did quaver a little.

  "The king and queen are one," one of the elders pronounced in halting English.

  And with that simple yet momentous phrase, she began her journey as the Refarian queen.

  Sometime during the day—probably during the long wait outside the council chambers, or perhaps during the ceremony itself—the late-November day had turned unexpectedly cold. Dark clouds had blown over the mountains, hovering across the land like a tight blue-gray fist. And then, as sometimes happened even in July in the Grand Teton area, a heavy snow began to fall. Even in the middle of the summer, a serious snow had been known to extinguish forest fires in Yellowstone
. So it came as no real surprise that on her wedding day, of all days, Kelsey found herself on the back of a four-stroke snowmobile hanging on to her new husband for dear life. Because of course Jared was a snowmobile hotshot; what else would the man be? He gunned the engine on the thing, tearing up the mountainside away from the base, and she flung her arms around him, giggling with joy even as the wind whipped her hair and stung her eyes. She was a natural-born snowmobiler, and though she usually preferred to be the one doing the driving, today it suited her perfectly to ride up the mountainside on the back of Jared's sled. Even in a slinky red dress—though thank goodness Anika had loaned her a long winter coat to go over it.

  After only a few minutes of rip-roaring joy along the fresh powder, he pulled up at an overlook. Down the mountainside and into the valley spread a moody panorama, just the kind she most loved about her home.

  "Gods, your land is beautiful, Kelsey." He removed his helmet with an appreciative shake of his head. "It suits you."

  She smiled, handing him her helmet as she swung off the back of the snowmobile. "I'm glad you like it." She felt shy, as if he were remarking on her breasts or the shape of her figure or the shade of her hair. It was deeply personal to her, hearing him talk about his love of her world.

  The soft whisper of wind whipped about them both, winter's early chill already riding the mountain peaks down into the valley. Along the ridge where he'd brought her, the brilliant late-day sun pierced through the snow clouds and drew its hand over the low land, painting a spectrum of blue and crisp gold and white. With a proud smile, he stepped up onto the rocky cleft and nodded to the view. "Awe-inspiring, isn't it?"

  "Yes," she agreed, feeling the mountains' ancient hush weave a mystic spell between them. This was her land he offered like the most priceless of wedding gifts; the land her father had taken her away from, refusing to acknowledge its importance in her life—the land she'd missed every single day she'd lived away from it, in D.C. "It's a part of me," she said.

  He cocked his head sideways, watching her. "I understand that feeling."

  "About Refaria."

  He shook his head in disagreement. "No, about this land, Kelsey." He crouched low on the ridge, tracing his fingertips over the jagged, snow-covered rocks. "I feel this land of yours is my trust, somehow. That it's been granted to me, same as my home world. That hundreds of years ago my people chose this place, this portion, so that I might know its beauty. That I'd understand what it is I'm to protect. The air, the mountains here—you have no idea how the war has ruined my home. But then here," he said, sweeping his hand around them, "here I can know the possibility of restoration. The beauty of your world, and the destruction I'm meant to prevent."

  He sifted snow between his fingertips, thoughtful and quiet for so long that she wondered what more he might say, and then he turned to face her. "Now I know why else I've loved this land so passionately, Kelsey," he said, rising to his feet. Brushing his hands together, he continued, "I was sent to protect your people—that was part of it, I am certain. But there's always been something more that I could not place my hands around. Like a word beyond speaking, or an English phrase that I could never seem to learn."

  With his hand, he cupped her chin and tilted it upward until their eyes locked, his black Refarian ones meeting her own human ones. Their bond flared, opening like a river of fire between their two bodies and hearts, causing her legs to almost buckle with the twined rush of alien power and sensual desire. "Shall I tell you what I've finally learned, dear Kelsey? Shall I tell you this word beyond my speaking? It was you, love. You were the place my heart longed to know. You. You are this land; you are my love for it. The feelings are inseparable for me."

  He had no way of knowing the hurt she'd carried inside after being wrenched from this place by her father, nor for how very long she'd endured that pain. Her father, as much as she loved him, had left her feeling abandoned and cheapened by the simple fact that he wouldn't keep her here after her mother's death. Now, on her wedding day, the man she had chosen as husband and mate stood on this precipice—a king in every way—declaring that the worlds belonged in her hand because he had given them to her.

  She bowed her head, unable to stanch the flow of warm tears. Husband. This man at her side loved her, would protect her at all costs. She wiped at the tears with the back of her hand, unable to find her voice.

  "Kelsey," he said, turning to her in deep concern, "I'm sorry—have I bungled my English again?"

  She burst into laughter. "No," she said, still wiping away tears, "that was very elegant, Jared."

  "Perhaps I should have kept to Shakespeare?"

  "You've given me a wonderful wedding gift," she said.

  "You are worth it," he said, pulling her close against his chest. She felt his heart beating beneath his powerful rib cage. Closing her eyes, she marveled that the pounding she felt was that of an alien heart, of one born galaxies away, born to lead a world, to helm a revolution. And yet it beat so simply when he held her this close.

  "Actually, I have another gift for you," he promised, his warm breath on her cheek causing a shiver of desire to snake down her spine.

  "What's that?" she asked, curious.

  He cocked his head sideways, a most lascivious grin forming on his face. "Ah, no, love. Not here."

  "Where?" she blurted curiously.

  His hot gaze swept over her form. "To my chambers." He laughed. "Where else?"

  It must have been another one of Jared's alien powers that was to blame, because otherwise Kelsey couldn't account for her near-instantaneous nakedness once they were inside his bedroom. With a deft move he had her out of her clothes, flipped onto her belly on his bed, and had begun kissing the small of her back. More than kisses, she amended dreamily, feeling his tongue flick and outline the curve of her spine. He was owning her. Branding her. Marking her with his mouth the same way he'd apparently marked her with that alien tattoo of his. With every taste of her skin he was doing exactly what she'd fantasized about while they made their vows.

  He took hold of her hips, digging his fingers into the soft flesh of her belly. With his mouth he kept on kissing, outlining, laving. What wasn't the man doing to her back?

  "Now," he purred.

  "Hmm?" she asked dreamily, grinding her hips against the mattress with pure desire for him.

  He halted his explorations and kept her pinned beneath him, panting against her back breathlessly. "Time ... to let me… see," he cried, moaning softly as his fingers pulled at the skin he'd been showering with kisses one moment before.

  A thrill shot through her center. She got it now. Jared was crazily turned on by the presence of his royal emblem on her—and that it was in precisely the place she'd longed to have it.

  "How do you, well, see it? The royal mark?" She turned her head sideways so that her cheek rested against the mattress, and studied him through her lashes. He hadn't even stripped out of his uniform. A black-clad soldier had her face-down on his mattress and was licking her to pieces.

  He stood there at the mattress edge gazing down at her, cupping her bottom in both his hands. "You amaze me, Kelsey," he whispered in a wondrous voice.

  "Is the mark showing already?"

  "Always so curious. One of many things I love about you, wife."

  "Well, is it?" she persisted, and he pressed one knee into the mattress, never relinquishing his hold on her hips.

  "Not until I bring it to light," he purred in a voice electric with promise. "It wasn't revealed during the ceremony—only placed on your body. But it's been there ever since, simply waiting for me to reveal it."

  "Then do that," she urged breathlessly, aching for him to proceed. "Go on, Jared. Please." Surely a little bedroom begging was a given in any marriage.

  His fingertips trailed down her backbone, touching her with fire. Carefully, painstaking in his slowness, he stroked her bare skin. "I thought I was fulfilling your fantasy."

  She squirmed as he bent low, pressing his full
, warm lips against the small of her back. The rough texture of his tongue flick against her body yet again.

  "The first part of my fantasy was for you to lick it, kiss it, and whatever-else it." She gasped, squirming beneath him. "The second part was to know exactly how it affected you."

  A low, rumbling growl erupted from his chest, and his heat swept over her bare skin as he cupped his palm over her lower back. The growling became a piercing howl, and then all she heard was his harsh breathing as he pinned her, facedown against the mattress again. "It is true," he rumbled in her ear, lapping at her cheek with his tongue. "You are all mine now. No one shall ever take you from me. Mine. Mine. Mine."

  Oh, how he loved to possess her—she'd known that from the very first time they made love.

  "I can't pretend anymore, Kelsey," he continued, kissing her behind her ear, slipping both of his palms beneath her hips and holding fast. "I love this belonging. It makes me half-crazy; truly it does."

  She smiled to herself. He had no idea yet, did he? Her smile broadened as she wondered how long it would take her husband to recognize the beautiful change that had begun in him not even twenty-four hours ago.

  "I love it, too," she agreed huskily.

  "I don't love this uniform," he complained, easing off of her.

  "Hey, I have a question," she said. It was something she'd wondered about in the midst of their ceremony. "What would you have worn if we'd gotten married on Refaria?"

  She heard the low rumble of sexy laughter. "Not a military uniform; that's for sure."

  "Then what? Tell me."

  "No," he said in a slow, seductive voice, "I believe I'll show you."

  When she rolled onto her back to get a better look at him, she gasped. Jared stood before her clad in skintight leather pants that outlined his muscled thighs like a second skin. As he moved toward her, the black pants hugged every ridge and furrow and dip in his very masculine body. A white shirt was laced from his navel to the middle of his chest, where it fell open to expose the golden-brown skin there, hinting at the dark peaks of his nipples, just visible through the thin white cotton of the fabric.