Page 3 of Ren: Warlord Brides
She eyed the kit. “And people will think we’re married?”
“Yes.”
“I won’t have to be matched again,” she said with a relieved-sounding exhale. “Okay. Fine, but since we’re on biting terms, call me Emry.”
“Emry,” he repeated. He enjoyed the shape of her name on his lips. The moniker suited her much better than the florid Emmarae.
“Let’s get this over with.” Emry tugged down the collar to bare her skin and gathered her hair in one hand. She tilted her head to one side and screwed her eyes shut as if anticipating pain. A pale silver scar, faded with age, ran along the clavicle.
Ren opened the cleansing packet and gently applied the swab. A chemical odor filled the vehicle’s cabin but quickly evaporated. Next, he applied a numbing gel.
“Ugh, my nose tingles. Is it supposed to tingle?” Her free hand scrubbed at her nose.
“No, but do not be alarmed. Terran epidermis is thinner than a Mahdfel’s.” Most were. Ren and his ilk had been genetically engineered to be superior warriors with accelerated healing, increased muscle mass, heightened senses, enhanced reactions. A durable epidermis was part of the package.
“Is it safe for humans?”
“Yes,” he said with fake confidence.
Emry searched his face. She sighed, either believing his bluff or deciding she could not be bothered to question him. Squeezing her eyes shut, she said, “Fine. Just do it.”
“I will touch you now.”
Another sigh. “Spare me the play-by-play. Make with the biting.”
Ren stroked her shoulder and watched her for a reaction or a flinch. Nothing. The area must have been sufficiently numb.
He brushed back her hair, tucking it behind a rounded ear. The pale strands were fine and flowed like water. His thumb brushed along the clavicle scar. “What happened here?”
“Same thing that happened to my face,” she snapped. Then sighed. “Sorry. A car accident. Broken collarbone. It was a long time ago. It’s… a sensitive subject, and it’s been a hell of a day.”
Yes. His fault, again.
Leaning across the vehicle, he pressed her face into the curve of her neck. His tusks dragged across her skin, and he breathed in. If this would be his only opportunity to touch his mate, he would savor the experience. Underneath the antiseptic chemical, he caught the scent of lush, damp earth and green. So much green. Her scent was unknowable, born of a gentler planet and forbidden to him.
Longing pierced through him, and he bit down, sinking his fangs in until he tasted blood. His tusks dug against her clavicle but did not puncture her skin.
Emry gasped. “That’s so weird. It’s wet and I feel pressure, but nothing else.”
Ren withdrew and made quick work of cleaning and bandaging the bite.
“That’s it?” Her fingers touched the gauze covering, as if in disbelief.
“That is it. We are mates,” he answered.
“Fake mates.”
“Legally mates. You cannot be bound to another,” he said, knowing he spoke a half-truth. She could still petition for divorce and mate another male if she so chose. Ren had the feeling that once Emry set her mind to a task, nothing, not even a half-truth, would be an obstacle.
“So, this is goodbye.” Again, a touch to the gauze covering.
“It is for the best.”
Eventually, he would believe the lie.
Chapter 2
Emry
