Page 65 of The Alien Warlord's Fated Mate

Desire rose so sharply, he feared spilling his seed in her luscious mouth.

“Stop, Mia,” he rasped out. “I beg you.”

Her laughter hummed against the sensitive head of his cock. She popped him out of her mouth and said a single word in response.

“No.”

Her sucking redoubled, joined by one hand tightening around the base of his cock. The claws of her free hand dug into his thigh, bruising him deliciously, and his hands broke free, curse them. One settled on the back of her head, gently encouraging her sweet mouth to milk him. The other clasped her hand around his cock and guided her into stroking him while her lips and tongue wreaked havoc above.

And then he could no longer think about whose game they were playing or the rules laid down between them. He surged into her mouth, driven by a need to possess her, to claim her, to mark her so surely she knew only him, needed only him.Lovedonly him.

“Beloved,” he gasped, then roared out his release, emptying himself into her mouth as dizzying emotion swept through him. Their bond pinged gently, settling onto a deeper plane, and when he could give no more, when his seed dribbled out of her mouth and her hands stilled upon his body, he hauled her up, wrapped himself around her, and buried his face in her hair, shocked as much by the way she had moved him as by the clarity her touch provided.

He loved her so much. It was a quiet ache against his heart.

She sighed happily and stroked him into quiescence, and together they fell once more into sleep.

Chapter Seventeen

After seeing Mia safely to the science center, Zoran took his place among the early morning Ky’Lota practitioners, seeking solace in the disciplined company of his fellow aspirants along the path.

His mother led the forms from the center of the Council Grounds, surrounded by concentric circles of warriors and civilians alike. Zoran was surprised to see a few humans there as well, dotted among the more experienced Xeruvians as was their custom. His nephew Nem stood near the back, the top of his head no higher than the hips of the two warriors flanking him.

Zoran stepped into place behind Nem, dividing his attention equally between perfecting his own forms and analyzing the forms of his nephew. For a youngling of but five years, Nem exhibited extraordinary control and focus, far more than was usual for that age. Zoran’s heart ached for the boy. Here before him stood the consequences of the disasters that had befallen their people: a motherless child whose light had dimmed under the weight of such grievous loss.

The morning bloomed around them, unfurling heat and light in equal measure. By the time Alara guided the group through the final form, a light sweat coated Zoran’s skin. The group disbursed, with experienced warriors doling out praise and advice alike, some lingering to chat while others left to tend to family and duty.

Nem turned around and bowed formally to his uncle. “Kii-la, nona-il, Uncle Zoran.”

That odd, achy feeling throbbed in Zoran’s chest once more. Nem favored his mother, Zoran’s younger sister. Kygana had possessed an uncommon beauty, her features graceful and even. On her son, those same features spoke of a future filled with many conquests and broken hearts.

Ah, Nyklan, Zoran thought.I can see why your son’s presence would prick the scar of a broken mating bond, but I cannot forgive you for holding this precious youngling at arm’s length over a matter in which he had no hand.

Zoran scooped up the youngling and held him to his chest, suppressing his humor behind a solemn mask. “Nona-il’la, Nephew Nem. Have you come to stand at my side while I negotiate a treaty with the dreaded northern clans?”

The first hint of laughter brightened Nem’s expression. “Do you think Mother Alara will let me this time?”

“I think she will likely say young warriors must first learn their clan’s history before attempting to parlay with such a fierce opponent.”

“I am fierce, Uncle!” Nem scrunched his face into a ferocious growl, then ruined the effect with a pleased smile. “See?”

“Very fierce,” Zoran agreed solemnly. “Must I fear meeting you soon in the challenge circle?”

Nem laughed and threw his arms around Zoran’s neck. “No, no! Not until I am very old like you.”

Alara watched them with veiled amusement as she approached. “If my son is very old, I must be ancient.”

Nem shook his head, though he did not relinquish his hold on his uncle.

Zoran shifted his grip and met his mother’s level gaze. “Mia fares well.”

“Of that, I had no doubt,” Alara replied. “Love tames even the most ferocious beast.”

Hope sent Zoran’s heart into a wild leap that ended in a tumble toward despair. “She does not love me.”

“I was not speaking of her love, my son.”

“I love you,” Nem whispered, saving Zoran from his mother’s astute observation.

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