Ask For It (7 page)

“I cannot leave you, but you can get rid of me. Those are two very different things. You and your brothers are my family, more so than before, and there are few choices left to me. I’m trying to tell you I will not blame you if you can’t get past what I am.”

“Sahara, you’re not making sense. Death is the only enemy who might take you from me,” Tor growled in low protest as he glared into her eyes. He was lying over her, his hips pushing her down, his legs bracketing hers. Upper chest supported above her on elbows, he physically demonstrated his intention to retain possession of her.

“But what if I am all the things your ancestors called demon?” she whispered.

“Changes nothing,” Tor growled harshly. “Deranged demon might get you confined in the dungeon, but you will still be mine, Sahara.”

“Never said I was deranged,” Sahara murmured. “Though the whole dungeon thing could be sorta sexy.”

Tor chuckled and lifted off her, ignoring her really effective attempt at distracting him. She was truly afraid he’d reject her over something. The dungeon comment would have to wait. “What is it you’re so afraid to tell me?”

“Not so much tell you as show you,” she said. “Before we go talk to the public, I think it would be wise for you to know exactly what I am. What I’m capable of. The threat is too important not to utilize every power at my disposal to neutralize it and those powers being a surprise might create an ugly scene.

“I don’t know a thing about this obelisk, but it’s obvious I triggered it when I went into heat.”

Tor was again lounging on his side, looking down at her. Sahara lifted, her mouth seeking his in a quick kiss. Then she was gone. Tor jerked in shock. Looking up, he found her standing across the room. Her hands clutched together in front of her as the three brothers jerked to sitting positions.

Her form dissolved before their eyes and reshaped. Sitting on her haunches before them was a six-foot-tall figure. Silky white fur covered the body of a large lioness. Wings with pearl white feathers were folded down her sides, covering her back. She sat very still, watching them from wide, tilted gray eyes. The beauty of her features was in the fine-boned structure of face and body. She was a lion built to fly. Speed and power sat motionless before them.

All three Leonor warriors remained perfectly still as they gazed at her. Tor felt the overwhelming caution of coming upon a staggeringly beautiful wild animal that is also imminently dangerous. Helplessly captivated by the rare, overwhelmed with the perfection of her form, he stared at her in a mixture of amazement and disbelief.

We communicate telepathically in this form
, her musical voice stated in their minds.

The winged lioness disappeared and Sahara stood before them in her simple dress. No one said a word. Tor slowly stood in the silence. Sahara watched him with a guardedly calm expression as he crossed the space to her.

Gripping her shoulders, Tor frowned in confusion. “How in the world did your people become extinct?”

Sahara shrugged under his hold and glanced down. “Name something demon and even primitive societies will find a way to kill it. Females and children have several handicaps that come with the gifts. Kill enough of them and there is no future. We are not exactly extinct, but with no safe homeworld, we might as well be.”

Behind Tor, his brothers were standing, flanking him. Her eyes flicked over their frowning faces and then focused on Tor. “I didn’t come here to kill your world. If I’d known this could happen, I would have left.”

“What handicaps?” Tor wanted to know. Protecting her was his main concern. He ignored the comment that she would have left. He would not have allowed it. Sahara drew in a deep breath. Her worried eyes were searching his, and Tor realized she was afraid to tell him. She’d revealed herself in ways that were risky, and all he’d done was greedily demand more information.

His hands tightened on her shoulders. “That’s right, look at us, Sahara. The three most powerful Leonor warriors.” He didn’t have to glance behind him to know his brothers stood with him. “The displeasure on our faces is about our revulsion over the abuses our people started in ignorance and fear. Do you sense any fear of you on us? Scent anything remotely defensive? You are a stunning Mist Lioness. You have to give us a break about seeing a mythical being for the first time, and she is even more beautiful than the legends say.

“If there is one thing Mist Lions gave us it was a glimpse of how civilized societies should behave. Your people left us to our violent ways as opposed to enslaving the savages we were. It’s obvious they could have.

“Since your people left, we have evolved. We are Guardians of the United Planets Alliance. Our brother died fighting for the freedom of all races. Our strength is focused on the protection of every race and people. We are the warriors who proudly die to ensure freedom. Even if this threat to our planet did not exist we would be honored to welcome Mist Lions home.

“But more than all that. You are our family, Sahara, my queen and twice their sister. Knowing how to protect you is our main concern. For you, each male in this room will extend every protection at his disposal. It’s time to stop hiding, little desert flower, you are home and safe.”

Sahara seemed to accept his long and probably overly defensive speech. A smile played at her fascinating mouth as she took one if his hands from her shoulder, turned it over, resting her cheek in it. If there was ever an action guaranteed to get her whatever she wanted out of him, this was it. Looking up at him from those big eyes, her face placed in his hold. Tor had to clench his teeth and consciously control the need to cradle her in his arms as he took off to somewhere remote in the universe so nothing could ever hurt her again.

“It’s difficult,” her soft voice confessed. “Hiding our weaknesses, even from those closest to us, is so important. Over and over again, accepting the truth about us has been too much and we’ve been hunted by the ones we trusted.”

“It’s okay.” Tor gently pulled her into his chest. “We have time. You’ll tell us when you’re ready. The only thing I must have is your promise not to put yourself in danger, not for any reason, Sahara.”

Her face buried in his neck, his little desert flower smiled. “You know I can’t make that promise. It sounds as if I have to do something I’m stunningly unqualified to do.”

Tor grunted as his arms tightened around her. “The scientists have had much longer to think about it than we have. I’m sure there’s a solution.” His lips rested on the top of her head and briefly his eyes closed as he worked through this moment. His back to his brothers, they wouldn’t witness his expression, and he was damn glad of that. Control was out of his grasp as he held this woman who’d been rare before he even knew what a miracle she really is.

In this form his body surrounded her. He could indeed protect her, but the vision of her form as a Mist Lioness, whose body mass more than matched his own came to mind, also her ability to communicate telepathically. Why had she submitted to the Corbeth? There was no reason for that to get out of hand. Why hadn’t she shifted? At the very least, contacted him telepathically with her distress?

Her hands were resting on his chest, her body quiet in his hold, but Sahara was not returning the embrace. As questions whirled in his mind, Tor understood the caution that prevented her from answering his question about her weaknesses. Trust is not a product of lust. It damn well would be a product of being his wife, even if she might be able to kick his ass in lioness form. That discussion would wait.

“I have one question before we go meet the scientists. Is your telepathy limited or can you read others’ thoughts?” he asked into the top of her head.

Sahara sighed. “I can read strong emotion. Establishing a telepathic link is done though my emotions and easiest for me in Mist Lioness form. I don’t use that ability when humanoid and I can’t do it with just anyone.”

“Good,” Tor murmured into her hair. “You’re not in heat anymore, but just knowing what you are will draw a reaction from most males. I don’t like the idea of you viewing their fantasies.”

That got the response he wanted. Sahara laughed as she leaned back on his arm to look up at him.

“You’re jealous I might see other males’ desires?” Her hands glided up his chest, one up his neck to caress his face, the other to pet over his wide shoulder in absent exploration.

They were back on familiar ground emotionally. He needed her relaxed and confident of him, of his family. Showing her his vulnerability was a small price to pay for that. “There is no reason for you knowing anyone else’s desires, mine will keep you busy enough.”

Her eyes weren’t fearful but warm with amusement as she looked up at him. “Don’t males usually imagine themselves involved in their sexual fantasy? Sounds like an excellent way to view an intimidating crowd. Naked and…”

“No,” Tor snarled. “If you want a look at that, they can wait another hour or two and I’ll show you all the naked you need.” He dipped to take her mouth in a hard kiss as he palmed her ass, pulling her against his groin.

Lifting off her, Tor snarled again. His desert flower now had lazy eyes that asked for sex, her lips were swollen and her lean muscles relaxed. She moved with fluid grace naturally, but in the last three weeks he’d seen her walk across his lair in this mood and not had to resist the erotic invitation she embodied. Her strolling into his conference room now would probably be cause for calling the emergency medical team. Some of those scientists were too old to take it.

“Now you look too sexy to go in there,” he told her around the snarl. Tor glanced over his shoulder at his brothers. “Burke, say something stupid and piss her off.”

Burke backed away from them with a half smile. “Your problem, brother. I’m having trouble with my fantasies at the moment.”

“What?” Tor turned quickly, placing Sahara behind him.

“Your own fault, High King,” Burke continued irreverently as he fell onto a lounge chair. Reclining put his body in the least threatening position as he answered. “You kissed her and turned her on. Her scent is a stimulant. Nothing we can do about it.”

Nearrid turned and strode to the windows, standing with his back to his family, deeply inhaling the fresh air.

“Right,” Tor growled as he watched his brothers deal with the age-old problem. “So she didn’t affect you like this before I kissed her?”

“Not as much,” Burke admitted. “Nothing like what happened three weeks ago.”

“Hello, that ‘she’ is still in the room.” Sahara scowled at the two males who had the grace to look at her. The third remained with his back to the room. “It’s not as if I try to do this.” She pulled out from under Tor’s arm and backed away from them.

“Want us to lie about it?” Burke asked conversationally.

“No, I guess not. It’s just sort of personal and invasive. As if I’m naked all the time or something,” Sahara defended her discomfort.

“Not exactly naked,” Tor tried to soothe her, but wasn’t sure what to say next.

“You are a sexually active Mist Lioness,” Nearrid stated from the window, not bothering to turn around. “Every Leonor male within scent of you will know it. Controlling our response to that natural stimulation is what separates us from the savages we were.” He turned to regard her with his cool gaze. “No one blames you, little sister. Males wanting you does not make you a whore.”

Sahara blinked as she met his eyes and then her attention turned to Tor. Her eyes dropped. She was standing with her back to the wall, hands nervously clasped then unclasped. She crossed her arms, her chin tilted, her eyes challenging as she raised them, her body stance as defensive as her gaze. “No, it doesn’t.”

Tor frowned as he looked from Nearrid to Sahara and realized he’d still not grasped the root of her defensiveness. It had taken the dispassionate and often-mistaken-for-cold Nearrid to see her fear. It was the same cultural difference that had separated them to begin with.

With him, she was a complete hedonist. But add another in any way and she felt shame. Even something as obviously not her fault as other males lusting after her.

Leonor sexuality was earthy and basic. Bringing a female to pleasure was a warrior’s duty, but more than that, it was a need. Their culture focused a male on the serious hard matters of combat and training. As a warrior matured, it was easy to lose touch with any other part of his soul. But intimate interaction with a female, even if it was only his place to see to her pleasure, eased that pressure to such a degree that it became his pleasure. If she was not his and he could not complete within her, he still drank from her body a measure of peace that could not be found in other ways.