Alien General's Bride: SciFi Alien Romance (Brion Brides) (7 page)

Beside her, Ensha suddenly tensed up. He seemed to be listening to something. “Understood,” he said finally.

“Isolde Fenner,” he said –
Why did they have to do that
, she wondered as in her experience people only ever said her full name when they were really mad at her – “I have been instructed by the Commander to inform you of an unfortunate development. It seems the ship you should have been on, the ship you missed, was attacked and destroyed by an as of yet unknown assailant. The commander assures you that we are working with the rest of the GU to find out who is behind this. He thought you should know and says you have nothing to fear here.”

Oh.

So space wasn’t all that bad, huh. Just bad aliens coming from out of the dark and shooting your ship to pieces. Metal pieces, and glass pieces, and plastic pieces, and human pieces. Isolde hated her mind for jumping to conclusions, but like often as of late, her mouth started talking before the ready-to-go from her brain.

“They had a flotilla,” she said quietly. “A force protecting them. Where was that?”

Ensha shrugged. “I do not know. I was told no one survived, so I suppose the flotilla was destroyed as well.”

So many lives lost. And all those who had wanted to help were dead too, then. She imagined all the pieces floating lifelessly in space. And to think she had hurried, hurried with all her might to be on that doomed ship. Survivor’s guilt really was a thing. Suddenly she felt like she had cheated death.

“I would like to go back to my room,” Isolde said, tears brimming at the corners of her eyes. She had to lean on a wall for support for a moment, but she’d be damned if she was going to cry in front of the Brions.

Ensha nodded, as if everything was alright and to be expected. They went back, Isolde walking in a blur of her tears. She locked the door behind her and only then did the tears come.

She didn’t even know how she should grieve. There were no candles she could light, no possibility for a ceremony. All she could do was just dedicate some of her thoughts to the people who had been on time. Good, punctual people. It felt somehow more real because she had been briefed thoroughly on her companions-to-be. Isolde felt like she knew the research team, as if friends had been robbed from her without her ever having met them.

At least it was a distraction from her problems of an alien proposal with little chance to refuse. Still, space seemed a bit colder than it had been even an hour ago.

There was a strange sound reminding her of a doorbell, and for once, the comparison justified itself. The screen next to her door suddenly flared to life, showing the image of Grothan. It waited for her approval. Isolde was quite surprised the commander hadn’t just waltzed in, but after she had answered and Grothan was in, he elaborated, “I did not want to intrude. I am not familiar with human traditions of grief. If this is a private matter to you, I will leave.”

It was a private matter, but Isolde didn’t exactly want to be alone. She shook her head. “Stay. We can talk about something. Something else.”
 

CHAPTER SEVEN

Diego

This was… unfamiliar.

Not in a bad way. Diego Grothan had simply never experienced a longing like this. It wasn’t merely physical, although his body called to hers with unrelenting passion. Yet he also found himself wanting to simply be in her company. The Brions weren’t a very talkative species to begin with, but he didn’t even have to say anything with her. Being in a room with her made his surroundings resonate in a weird way, like a constant soothing song that eased all tension out of him. He understood now what the bound Brion men sought out when they were in stress.

He was very grateful that he hadn’t had any understanding of it before. It was doubtful he could have stood the anticipation if he’d actually known what he had to look forward to.

Something else was on his mind as well. The commander was simply unsure if it was a good idea to express it to Isolde. He let his senses unfold further away from him, catching her in his neural net, becoming hypersensitive to sound and light and scent.

There
. There it was again. Her temperature rose when he was around, he was certain of it. Human or not, the change was noticeable. Experimentally, he moved closer, still not saying anything. Isolde was sitting on a couch and tensed up immediately at his approach. The color of her cheeks changed again, just as it had before and the temperature rose even more. Especially… down there. He had to contain himself. No use upsetting her. If she wanted to reason with him, he could give back as he received.

“You were not completely honest with me before,” he said.

Isolde’s eyes went wide with surprise.

“If you’re reading my mind, stop at once,” she sputtered. “That is a horrible invasion of privacy.”

“I can’t read your mind,” Diego said, “but I can sense your body.”

More of red on her cheeks. Red meant good, according to his readings.

“When I asked before if you were sick and required a healer, you told me it was space travel making you feel that,” he continued.

He had been right. Her eyes gave her away immediately. When she didn’t offer any comment on that, he pushed on, “I read about humans. All the signs you have can point to illness, but they can also point to arousal. You want me.”

Her glares were quickly becoming an aphrodisiac to him.

“You sound like you figured that out on your own,” she said, her tone hurt. “I told you that before. And stop reading me with your senses; it’s almost as bad as literally reading my mind. So yeah, you’re attractive. That’s it.” She became quiet then, as if she’d suddenly remembered who she was talking to.

“So you did,” Diego agreed. “But it gets stronger as I get closer. Why do you deny it?”

“Because you’re forcing me to say yes!” Isolde snapped, and Diego thought if that was perhaps the first completely honest argument she had brought up in her defense. “So I’m saying no.”

“I think your own body is saying yes much more loudly than you’re leading me to believe.”

“My body can say what it wants.”

“Then explain to me why you don’t listen.”

“I tried before. You don’t understand.”

Perhaps he really didn’t. He knew she was his
gesha
, his fated. It was easier for him. He decided not to press it further. For now.

“Very well. Maybe there will come a day when we understand each other.”

She looked like she didn’t believe him, but that was fine. He had time.

In the meantime, talking was fine. There was something in her voice that made him want to just listen to her speak. He asked her about humans and let her talk and wander off to irrelevant topics, enjoying the music her lips made. Even if he longed to hear that voice make music to him in bed, he could wait, it would be worth it.

He himself seemed to have a similar effect on her. When he spoke, he could see her eyes cloud over, the way her head unconsciously moved to hear him better. Out of respect for her request, he refrained from ensnaring her in his senses, but he couldn’t shut them out completely. Little signs gave her away, her breath catching when he brushed against her hand and the way her cheeks kept coloring when he said the most usual things – true things – was another thing he was quickly coming to enjoy.

Diego thought to ask at which point Isolde realized she had lost her battle a while ago. Yet he did not. In his readings he had come across other concepts that were strange and unknown to him. Brion women fought their mates, some out of frustration because they had thought someone else would be theirs, some out of custom, some because they thought it was fun. But they knew a Brion man would never lie about their
gesha
. It would be unthinkable to make someone believe such a tremendous thing. So the women never fought full-heartedly, mostly for sport. And when men laid with women they weren’t going to bind themselves to, it was because it was mutually consensual and beneficial for both to learn their passions before meeting their true mate. The concept of what the humans had… it was enough to make his blood roar. He realized halfway through his reading that what he had done must have come off really scary to his
gesha
. He could not advance further or she would hate him forever.

She would still be his, would always be his, but he would clearly prefer for her to like him.

He could, however, give it a little nudge in the right direction. His fingers found hers on the table between them, and she didn’t immediately pull away. Diego stroked her little hand, so tiny in his grasp, feeling the softness of her skin. He longed to press his entire body against that skin, to feel it caress his own. Still she didn’t pull away, her eyes mesmerized looking at his hand. He took the opportunity to move further, up over her wrist, stroking her arm and going further still to finally feel her heartbeat beneath his fingers. Her neck was as smooth as her fingers had been, so delicate against his big, coarse hands. Her heart thudded in her chest, her lips parted as if to speak, but no sound came.

Carefully, inch by inch, like approaching a dangerous predator in Briolina’s forests, Diego let his finger slip over her lips. They parted for him, as they should.
His. His alone.
Her eyes were pleading, begging in a language that needed no words at all, a
gesha
calling to her mate.

It was insane. He wanted to tell this little human that the tortures he had endured in his training were nothing compared to what she was putting him through.

“Your no is becoming really quiet,” he said, surprised to hear his own voice shake.

She laughed, as if he’d made a joke.

Her soft hand reached out to him, and suddenly it was pressed against his chest, tracing the contours. Her touch burned. He had never enjoyed being burned before.

Humans seemed to have many reflexes they didn’t control. It seemed odd to Diego. As her hand travelled up to his neck, he saw Isolde’s tongue flick out to wet her lips. That made them look even more inviting. Her fingers stroked the squares implanted on his skin, her eyes wide with wonder, moving from one to the other.

“Did it hurt?” she asked quietly. “When you got these?”

Not nearly as much as you are hurting me right now
.

“No,” he said. “I take pride in each and every one of them. Being worthy of them is a great honor. I bled, but I did not hurt.”

She looked at him, and there was again an emotion in her eyes he couldn’t decipher. He wished he were more learned in the species to better understand what she was thinking, but he could take care of that later.

“Will you hurt me?” she asked.

He was so taken aback that she flinched away when she felt him tense.

“Never,” he swore. “I promised I would never hurt you. My word is my honor.”

He took her hand in his again. She didn’t pull it back.
 

CHAPTER EIGHT

Isolde

Ohhhh boy. Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy.

Was she ever in trouble now. What had even been in the food and drink he’d given her? Something to make her abandon all reason? Was she actually considering this?

Mother had told her young girls didn’t marry guys they had just met. Isolde had always hated fairy tales with their princesses who went with the first pretty guy that laid their eyes on them. The Sleeping Beauty was the worst of them. That was like, horribly creepy. And there she was, really considering this. Because a pair of blue eyes and some considerable biceps were making her lady parts go all sploosh.

She didn’t want to give any thought to the fact those parts made some convincing arguments.

Grothan’s voice said something. For all Isolde cared, he could have recited the recipe for chocolate chip cookies or something similarly absurd, but it went straight to her core and shut off any functions of coherent speech.

There should be a law against guys being this hot
, she thought.

Well, there actually was a law. Not against guys being hot per se, but the law censoring images of Brion men and limiting their visits to Terra.

You did not just think of the most dangerous man in the galaxy as a “hot guy”,
the rational part of her mind warned.
Do you have a bloody death wish?

Isolde loved chocolate chip cookies. For her, the commander was looking mighty much like one right at that moment.
Mmm... But what a way to go,
she shot back.

It was simply that rationality didn’t seem to want to compete with the simple fact that her hand was in a grip she didn’t want to free herself from. Oh no, far from it. She wanted that hand all over her and possibly in her. And the need to touch was quickly becoming unbearable. The squares had felt so cold and hard, but Grothan was warm and hard and she was…very much lost.