The Empress' New Clothes Page 3

  His thick black hair was silky and past his shoulders. She noticed for the first time that it was braided in a series of three rows off his temples, then flowed down his neck in the back. The more she studied him, the more handsome he seemed to become. Dismayed by that realization, she decided to try and wiggle out from beneath him and slink away unseen.

  Kyra made the smallest of movements, desperately trying to inch her body out from under the giant’s. The barbarian apparently reacted to her every move. He grumbled something incoherent in his sleep, latched back onto her nipple, then began to lazily suckle from it again. Heat shot from her breast to her belly, inducing her to stifle a groan. This was no good. The hulk was a stranger to her!

  Kyra breathed in deeply, then made another attempt at relocating her body out from under his large frame. Only this time she shifted her hips instead of her chest.

  Bad move.

  Or good move, depending upon one’s vantage point.

  The slight arching of her hips served her no purpose other than to make the giant’s access of her pelvic area more available. He mumbled again, continued to lave and suckle absently at her nipple, and on top of that, he was also now stroking her clit directly.

  Kyra whimpered as an exquisitely arousing tendril of sensation washed over her. This just wasn’t right! Here she was, pinioned under a strange man in a strange bed and not only was her body reacting to him, but her emotions were as well. She abhorred force of any kind. Rape was not something to be trivialized. But then this man hadn’t raped her. And somehow, she knew he wouldn’t.

  Dismayed by her body’s innate acceptance of this stranger, her mind struggled to maintain some semblance of normalcy. Things like this just didn’t happen, Kyra told herself. Men like this just didn’t happen.

  She glanced over toward the giant’s face, then sucked in her breath. He was now awake. Wide awake and peering at her. His haunting blue gaze made all the weirdness of the different puzzle pieces of this situation click together. She gasped.

  Men like this didn’t happen because he wasn’t a man. He wasn’t even of her kind, her species.

  Wide silver eyes met glowing blue ones. Kyra’s jaw dropped open.

  The barbarian was not a human.

  * * * * *

  Zor shifted slightly to prop himself back up on his elbow. He grinned down into the bewildered silvery gaze of his nee’ka. He continued to lazily stroke her fire-berry pelt, enjoying the intimacy of touching his High Queen. Soon, they would join. But before the Consummation Feast, Zor thought it important to learn more of the woman who was to be mother to his future sons. He decided that her name was a good place to start. “Greetings unto you, Sacred Mate of Zor Q’an Tal. By what name do you go?”

  Kyra closed her gaping jaw shut with a click of her teeth. Good grief! The giant was claiming she was the mate of some Zor character! She’d have to set him straight on that one. Perhaps that was why he’d captured her to begin with. Maybe he was trying to gain revenge on this Zor guy and, thinking her to be his wife, kidnapped her as a form of vengeance against him. At least that’s how it always happened in medieval romance novels. “Kyra,” she breathed. “Kyra Summers.”

  The giant shook his head. “’Tis Summers no more, nee’ka. ‘Tis Q’ana Tal now. Kyra Q’ana Tal. Sacred Mate to Zor Q’an Tal, High King of Tryston and Emperor of Trek Mi Q’an.”

  Kyra’s jaw fell back open. What in the hell was he talking about? “Y-You are mistaken,” she blithered out. “I am the Sacred Mate to no one.” She shook her head frantically, hysteria bubbling up inside of her. “I don’t even know what a Sacred Mate is!”

  Zor continued to stroke the pelt between her legs even as his agitation grew. He narrowed his eyes into menacing blue slits, causing his nee’ka to gulp. “You dare to lie before me and deny that the claiming was made?” His deep voice rose in decibels as his anger flamed. “You dare to tell me that I did not seize your gaze, that I did not summon the inanimate from your body?”

  Kyra had no idea what A had to do with B, but she sensed that she had best tell the giant that she dared no such thing. “I do not deny it!” she sniffed. “But I don’t understand how that makes me the Sacred Mate of this Zor character either!”

  Zor visibly relaxed. ‘Twas not a denial. His nee’ka was merely ignorant of the Trystonni way. He smiled again as he continued to stroke her, grazing his thumb over the swollen nub between her thighs. She gasped. He ignored her. “Those are the tests a warrior of Tryston performs to know if a woman is bound to him by the holy law.” He shrugged dismissively. “You passed the test, thus are you now my Sacred Mate.”

  Kyra’s eyes widened at that announcement. “You mean you are—”

  “Zor,” he interrupted.

  She shook her head to clear it. “And you are a king?”

  He took offense at that. “I am more than a king, nee’ka. I am High King to all of Tryston. Not to mention Emperor of Trek Mi Q’an.”

  “I see.” In truth, she didn’t see. Kyra was beginning to fear that she’d just been abducted by a seven-foot-plus alien with delusions of grandeur. She blew out a breath, inducing a tuft of fire-berry hair to skimp across her forehead and off to the side. Whether her breathing was growing labored from Zor’s crazed proclamation or from the fact that he was rubbing her clit, it was difficult to say. “Then what does that make me?”

  Zor leaned down and adoringly kissed the tip of Kyra’s nose. “It makes you my High Queen and Empress.” He nipped lovingly at her chin, then laved the dimple in it with his tongue. “It makes you my Sacred Mate.” He lowered his head further, grazing at her nipple with his teeth. “It makes you mine.” He suckled her peak thoroughly, causing a groan to escape from the depths of her throat.

  Kyra tried to push his face away, but the gesture had the same effect as a butterfly batting at a brick wall. She couldn’t believe what he was doing. Nor could she believe all the nonsense she was hearing. No woman goes from being a tax accountant to a High Queen all in the same day. This was just too much. “You m-must be m-mistaken.” She groaned as Zor trailed kisses from her breasts to her belly. “I wouldn’t make a v-very good High Queen,” she insisted. “I—oooh!”

  She sucked in her breath as Zor’s head disappeared between her thighs. She briefly considered the possibility that she would need another week at the meditation retreat when this was all over.

  Chapter 5

  Zor grunted as he raised his head from between his nee’ka’s legs. “What in the name of the holy sands are you doing, woman?”

  “Meditating.”

  He grunted again. “What is ‘meditating’? Some bizarre notion of primitive first dimension pleasure?”

  Kyra opened one eye to glare at him through, but continued her deep breathing. “I do it to relax.” She closed her eye again, breathing in through her nostrils and out of her mouth. She conjured up an image of Mel Gibson and Denzel Washington kneading her shoulders into blissful relaxation. She smiled serenely.

  Just when Kyra thought she had reclaimed control over her raging nerves, Zor let out a bellow that could have made a hungry predator halt in its path and forsake its prey in favor of scampering away. Her eyes flew open in shock. “Wh-What is it?”

  The giant drew himself up to his knees and glared at her with unmistakable menace. “The red stone within your bride’s necklace sings to me,” he hissed.

  Kyra’s eyes bulged out. She glanced down to see the necklace in question, the one she hadn’t even realized she was wearing. It was there all right. It didn’t appear to be singing, but it was indeed glowing red. “So?”

  Zor’s nostrils flared to wicked proportions. His face reddened in anger. “Your emotions have desired mating with another man!”

  Kyra’s eyes widened. “They’ve desired no such thing!”

  Oh Geez, this was awful! The necklace told him if the image of another man popped into her head? First things first, she’d have to lose the damn piece of jewelry. “I was merely envisioning having
my shoulders massaged. I do this during meditation to relax!”

  He growled something imperceptible then smacked his fist into the palm of his other hand. “You will think of no other touching you but me! I am your High King and Emperor! I am your Sacred Mate!”

  Kyra took advantage of Zor’s focus on her “sin” long enough to slip out from under him and sit on her knees to face him. She crossed her arms over her breasts to shield them from his view. Puckering her lips into a frown, she scowled at him. “I agreed to nothing!” she fumed.

  He slashed his hand tersely through the air. “That matters not. Still are you mine!”

  “I don’t even know you!”

  Zor grunted. “You will know me well in two moon-risings. Our bodies will join at such time.”

  Kyra’s jaw dropped open. Unfortunate though it was, gaping was not an uncommon event while in the barbarian’s presence. “I will not be forced into having sex with you!”

  “’Tis your duty by the holy law to submit to me and give me heirs. Do you refuse to honor our bond, you will shame me before our people.” He shook his head, not understanding. For the first time in Zor’s forty-two Yessat years he felt vulnerable. “Would you do this thing unto me?” he asked quietly. Well, as quietly as a bellowing High King gets.

  Kyra winced. The hurt on his face was evident. Just when she was working herself up into a good and proper tirade, the big oaf had to go and ruin it. And why should she feel guilty? She was the injured party here! She was the one who had been stalked, stripped, wedded without her knowledge or consent, then kidnapped!

  And yet, there it was…guilt. It was the oddest thing. Why would she feel it? Had the bizarre wedding ceremony fused them together in some freaky mental way? “I would never shame you,” she heard herself say, though somewhat frigidly.

  Bewildered and angered by the fact that she’d made even that much of a verbal concession, Kyra pinched her lips together tightly and threw him her best disapproving old-maid frown. “I don’t even know you, Zor.” She thrust her chin up stubbornly. “This just isn’t the way things are done where I come from.”

  He inclined his head, ignoring her haughtiness. “I have gathered as much, which is why I am trying to be tolerant.” Zor slashed his hand through the air. “Yet will I not allow you to envision other men whilst relaxing, whether this is a primitive first dimension custom or no.”

  Kyra narrowed her eyes. “I wish you would quit referring to my people as primitives!” It occurred to her that this should be the least of her concerns at the moment, but oh well. Insult was insult.

  Zor glared at her. “I would have your word.”

  “Huh?”

  “I would have your word. You will entertain visions of no man but me.” He crossed his massive arms over his equally massive chest. “Vow it now, nee’ka.”

  Kyra sighed. She rubbed her weary temples and closed her eyes. “Whatever.” She fluttered her hand dismissively through the air, exposing a breast to view. “I vow it.”

  Zor grunted. He reached out for his beautiful sekta pearl’s chest and flicked one pink nipple with his forefinger. “Remember, woman, I will know do you lie.”

  Kyra opened her eyes. Her hands flew to the bridal necklace, oblivious of the giant’s intimate caress. “I want this thing off of me! And I want to go home! Now,” she bit out.

  He shook his head in the negative. “This I cannot do.”

  “Why not?!”

  He shrugged. “Which question do you ask? Why can I not remove the necklace or why can I not return you to the primitive first dimension?”

  “Both! And I’m not a primitive!”

  Zor sighed. Truly his wench was a trial. “Kyra, nee’ka,” he crooned soothingly, “not even death can remove the bridal medallion from around your neck. ‘Tis the symbol of our eternal bond.”

  Kyra gasped incredulously. She remembered the giant wearing this very medallion when she’d first spotted him. Since his own neck was now bare, she could safely assume the necklace she was wearing was one and the same. “I don’t see one of these things around your neck anymore! Why must I endure having a full-time baby sitter who tattles to you about every little ‘emotion’ I have when you don’t?” Again it occurred to her that, considering her current circumstances, this was a trivial matter. But again, insult was insult.

  Zor grinned. Ah, but his Sacred Mate was an amusing wee wench. “Because you are a woman and I am a warrior.”

  She gasped again. Truly, Zor thought her face was red enough to start a fire off of.

  “You call that a good reason?” she screeched.

  He chuckled. “Aye.”

  “I want to go home!” Kyra became aware of his hand caressing her breast when she tried to cross her arms over her chest again. Huffing, she threw his hand off of her body and assumed her most forbidding arms-across-the-chest stance. As a tax accountant, she typically reserved this pose for IRS agents she had to deal with. She realized it probably had somewhat less of an effect while naked. “I want to go home I said! Now!”

  Zor rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, praying to the goddess for patience. “Your home is now in my bed. And my bed is on planet Tryston in Trek Mi Q’an galaxy of the seventh dimension.” He forced her hands from her chest and resumed toying with her nipples. “Let us belabor the point no more, nee’ka.”

  Kyra scowled at the big oaf. She tried to shove his hands away from her again—she was in no mood to be turned on—but gave up when he didn’t so much as flinch. It was like trying to move a mountain with her pinky finger. “My home is on earth. All of my friends are there.”

  Zor bent his neck and flicked his tongue across one rosy peak. She sucked in her breath. “You will make new friends.”

  Kyra tried to push his face away. It did no good. “I like the ones I already have.”

  He sighed. “By the tit of the heeka-beast, you know how to kill a fair mood.” His eyebrow shot up. “You needs be with me. I am your High King, your Emperor, your—”

  “Sacred Mate,” she finished for him. Kyra rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.” She sighed.

  Zor released her nipple to growl at her. “Worry not, you will come to love me. We have been destined. You will realize soon that you need me.”

  She arched a fire-berry brow. “Oh? And why do I need you?” she asked grandly, splaying her hands to the sides.

  Zor frowned. Why must his wench be from a primitive world where they understand naught? Why must he explain everything to her when all would be revealed soon enough through the joining? He was weary of arguing.

  Zor’s eyes flicked toward the bridal necklace Kyra now wore as he immersed himself in thought. He wanted to end this exasperating conversation once and for all. But how to—

  The answer came to him. He smiled slowly. He peered at the ornate piece of jewelry once again while he formed a plan of attack. For once, his nee’ka’s ignorance of Trystonni ways would work to his advantage. He would demolish all reticence against him, his home, and his touch until the time arrived when his Sacred Mate no longer desired to leave him. “Your bridal necklace.”

  Kyra scowled at the mention of the odious, tattle-telling thing. Her eyes narrowed with grim disapproval. “What about it?”

  Zor searched his brain for a quick lie. “’Tis, uh, possessed of my life-force.”

  She sighed. She had been stripped, kidnapped, and wedded by some mammoth alien. And worse yet, the big dumb oaf rarely made sense. “Your life-force?”

  He nodded. “That is correct. My life-force.” Zor ran the fingers of one hand along the stones within the bridal necklace as he sought Kyra’s gaze. “But it doesn’t last long. Therefore the bejeweled symbol of our union must constantly be replenished with my life-force.”

  Kyra rubbed her temples. The man was giving her a headache. “What in the hell are you talking about!”

  Zor shook his head as if the telling pained him greatly. “Without my life-force in you to replenish it, your necklace would die. If it d
ies, you die with it, nee’ka.”

  Kyra’s head shot up. Her eyes rounded. “D—Die?”

  He shook his head vigorously in the affirmative. “I fear ‘tis so.”

  Her jaw dropped open. “How do we replenish it?”

  Ah, Zor thought, suddenly his Sacred Mate thought in terms of “we”. A good battle tactic he’d just executed, if he did say so his self. “’Tis, uh, replenished every time we mate.”

  “Mate? We have to mate or I’ll die?”

  “That is correct.”

  Kyra’s silvery gaze narrowed suspiciously. “How often must we mate?”

  Zor wasted no time in taking advantage of her ignorance. “At least once every moon-rising.”

  Kyra held her suspicions, but then again she had no reason to doubt his word. What she knew about suicidal bridal necklaces was about as much as she knew about Zor, which was next to nothing. So she swallowed—roughly. She’d often heard that sex could kill, but she’d never before realized the same thing could happen with abstinence. “What happens if we don’t mate every day?” she asked hesitantly.

  Zor regarded her grimly. He was pleased to note that he could actually make his face pale on cue. “The bridal necklace will strangle you,” he whispered hoarsely.

  Jaw agape, Kyra’s hands flew to her neck. She clicked her teeth shut. “Good grief! That’s deplorable!”

  Zor sighed. He reached out and stroked his nee’ka’s mane of fire-berry hair. “You see now that I think only of you?”

  Kyra nodded her head absently. “Y-Yeah.”

  She chewed on her lip as she contemplated what he’d just said. They had to have sex—every day no less—or she would die. A part of her didn’t believe it, but the primal survival instinct within her, the piece of her being that would do anything to stay alive, realized she had no choice but to take Zor at his word.