War Bride (Battle Born #7)(10)
Tonn picked up one of the severed cords dangling from the back of the gown. “Are things not going well?”
“Things are going as well as expected, but not as well as I’d hoped.” He had no intention of being more specific, even with his best friend.
“You can’t forget she’s Bilarrian elite. She’s not used to taking orders.”
“She’s irrationally stubborn,” Kryton grumbled.
“As are you, my friend. As are you.” Tonn shook his head then smiled, clearly enjoying Kryton’s confusion. “Don’t expect too much too soon. If you pressure her, she’ll feel obligated to resist.”
“When did you become an expert on Bilarrian females?” He resumed his trek toward his cabin and Tonn fell in step beside him. “Weren’t you headed the opposite direction?”
“And deprive you of my wise council?” He laughed. “I wouldn’t think of deserting you in your hour of need.”
“So enlighten me, oh sage oracle.” Sarcasm dripped off every syllable. “How do I win my reluctant bride?”
“Woo her. Talk to her. Put her at ease. Make sure she knows how much you want her, but wait until she comes to you. Give her just enough pleasure to leave her aching for more.”
The strategy wasn’t far from Kryton’s original plan, though the pace was much slower. He’d hoped to consummate their joining in the next few days. Just the thought of endless days, perhaps weeks, without her made him groan inwardly. “And if she never approaches me?”
“Then you’re not trying hard enough.”
Kryton shoved the dress at Tonn. “Get rid of this for me.” They’d reached his quarters and he opened the door with a sharp voice command. “I get angry every time I see it and I have a seduction to plan.”
“Yes, sir.” Tonn grinned then headed off down the corridor.
*
Skyla hadn’t been afraid until her captor left her alone in the silent cabin. She was practically naked and every unfamiliar sound sped her pulse, so she decided to explore her cage. First she verified that the door was securely locked. It was more important to confirm that no one could get in than she couldn’t get out. Without her captor distracting her, she detected the subtle vibration of the ship. The ride was incredibly smooth, but they were in motion. She opened every compartment in the room and found all of them empty. Computer access and the companel had been disabled, which didn’t surprise her. She didn’t speak Rodyte, so it was doubtful she could have accomplished much anyway. Still, it was a reasonable precaution. She managed to trigger the door to the utility room, however. She hadn’t yet drank enough to require the facilities, but it was comforting to know they were available.
With her surroundings inventoried, her attention turned inward. She’d always tried to be honest with herself, so she refused to hide behind half-truths and excuses. Rona had been right all along. Skyla was infatuated with her captor, had been even before they met.
His taste still lingered in her mouth, confirming her worst fears. They were genetically compatible, which explained why she found him so attractive. Sexual allure or the pull, it didn’t matter what she called it. Her DNA was urging her to mate, to reproduce and ensure the survival of her species.
So how was she going to resist him when she already wanted him just as badly as he wanted her?
This isn’t about desire. Yes, she found him physically appealing. Okay, very appealing. But who was he? What motivated him? Who did he care for? What was important in his life? Until she knew a lot more about him, she would not willingly yield to their attraction.
As if summoned by her determination, her captor returned. The door slid open and he strolled into the cabin, carrying a large tray and what looked like a blanket folded over his arm. He spoke a Rodyte word and the door closed behind him.
“Did you miss me?” he asked in Bilarrian then added a lazy smile.
“Did you go to your cabin? This room is obviously not occupied.”
“It’s occupied by you until I trust you enough to move you to more comfortable accommodations.”
That piqued her interest. He really was a mystery. “You have the authority to assign accommodations?”
As was his habit, he simply ignored her question. “Are you hungry?” He was back in host mode and she was in no hurry to start the next round of their physical conflict.
She hadn’t eaten anything since morning, but he’d promised her a shirt and it didn’t look like he had one with him. “Did you forget something?”
He set the tray down on the nightstand then turned toward her and shook out what she’d thought was a blanket. It was a plush, long-sleeved robe. “Will this suffice?” He held it with both hands, obviously meaning to put it on her.
It was a power play, a not very subtle reminder that everything she’d receive from this point on would come from him. Insisting that he toss it to her wouldn’t change the reality of her situation, so she reluctantly approached and allowed him to slip the robe up her arms and across her shoulders. He took his time about it, doubtlessly using his height to gawk at her breasts. The instant his fingers released the robe, she overlapped the front and tightened the belt.
“Better?” He rested his hands on her shoulders, preventing her from moving away. Then she felt a subtle scrape against her scalp as he drew one of the many pins out of her upswept hair. “I want it down.”