Heroic Abduction (10 page)

“Gee, when you put it like that, you might as well play the dum-dum–dum music and say it’s hopeless.” Betty grumbled.

Dyre stood and puffed out his chest. He then pounded it with a closed fist. “I, Dyreokulan, galactic hero and warrior formerly from the planet Aressotle, do hereby volunteer my life and services as bond mate to the human barbarian named Betty. I promise to protect her, provide for her, and breed upon her many strong warriors.”

Whoa, what’s happening here? Did he just propose?

“I accept,” Zista said with a nod.

“Then it’s agreed.” Dyre smiled wide.

Betty blinked. “Um, guys. I think you forgot something.”

Zista and Dyre exchanged a look. “Is there an Earth custom we are unaware of?”

“Yeah, actually asking the intended bride. Anyone mind asking me about how I feel about this?”

“Do you wish to go back to Zonia?” Dyre asked.

“No.”

“Do you think the purple warrior is unable to defend you?” Zista fired.

“No.”

“Do you think I am incapable of breeding fine sons?”

“No.” She’d bet they’d have no problem trying either—over and over and over …

“Then what is your objection?” Zista asked.

It was times like these that Betty truly noted the gulf that divided her human mindset from the alien one. “You can’t just marry me off to a stranger. I’ve known him for only a few days.”

“In my culture, that is more than some arranged matings receive,” Dyre remarked, his effort at easing the situation falling flat.

Zista eyed Dyre from head to toe before replying. “The big male seems honorable enough. He is strong. A decent warrior. Pleasing to the eye. He’s proven willing to protect you. What else are you seeking in a breedable mate?”

Betty knew Zista asked not to be mean but because she really wanted to know. In the Zonian culture, males served one purpose only, procreation. Even then, they had no choice. The females hunted them down in the wild and either subdued them or tied them up to have their wicked way. Then, they ditched them to return to the flock.

So how to explain Betty didn’t want to tie herself to a man—even one as hot as Dyre. Eventually, she’d settle down with a guy, when she met the right one. The one she couldn’t live without.

I’ll be darned. I think I want to fall in love.

No way did she dare say that aloud. Zista would mock her for sure. What other excuse could she use? “But I don’t want purple babies,” she blurted out. She winced at how it sounded. Was that hurt in Dyre’s eyes?

His lips thinned. “My kind has ways of manipulating the genetic matter in embryos to enhance progeny. I’m sure we could ensure a skin coloring acceptable to you.”

Yup, she had hurt his feelings. Even worse, she was sure little violet-skinned babes would be ridiculously cute. “Wouldn’t you rather marry someone of your own kind?”

“Females on my planet are scarce and, given my banned status, off limits to me. Do you find objection with the fact I am not allowed to return to my home world? Does the fact I am not a respectable Kulin mercenary bother you?”

“No. I think your whole hero thing is weird, but cute, and I don’t really care where we live.” Besides, him being banished meant she wouldn’t have to deal with his mother. Brownie points in his favor.

“I am wealthy despite my attempts to refuse payment from my gallant deeds.”

“It’s not about money. But didn’t you say your kind mate for life?”

He nodded.

“And let me guess, divorce is out of the question?”

“The only way to dissolve a mating bond is for one of the pair to die.”

Could she kill Dyre? Her shoulders slumped. Probably not. She was a thief and a stubborn, outspoken human, not a killer.
If I did this, then he’s mine, for life.
Not an entirely unpalatable prospect, but such a big decision to make, especially so quickly.

“I think I shall leave you to discuss this,” Zista announced as she rose from her seat. “Let me know your choice before we hit our next refueling destination in the fourth quadrant. From there we can catch a wormhole that will take us close to home.”

Silence reigned for a few moments after the door swished shut.

“Is the idea of mating to me so abhorrent?” he asked. Again, she could swear he almost sounded hurt.

Did he really care that much? She decided to give him the truth. “No. I actually like you, more than I expected. Which, believe me, is a surprise. We’re so different.”

“Then what is the issue?”

“I just don’t want to get married. At all. To anyone. I left the Zonian planet not just to find Clarabelle but to enjoy some freedom. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I love those gals. They took me in and taught me so much. But I need more. I need to live a little. To adventure. To spread my wings and fly.” She thrust her arms wide and gestured to the vista in the large view screen, thousands of pinpricks of light flashing by as they blasted through space, planets, stars, and mysteries waiting to be discovered.

“As my mate, you could have all those things. I am not looking to make you into a slave.”

“You want to care for and protect me,” she groused.

“To keep you safe. But part of your care also means keeping you happy. If my mate requires excitement and travel to accomplish this, then it is my duty to provide.”

And he meant it too. But still, to commit to him for a lifetime? What if he left his socks on the floor? What if he was a closet drinker like her stepdad or a cheater or …

She could compile a list of risks a mile long, but it all boiled down to one thing. She was scared. Scared of giving someone power over her. Scared to trust. Scared of giving him her heart and having him stomp all over it. Scared she’d end up like her mother.

But Dyre isn’t like my stepdad.
He was unlike anyone she’d ever met. He had a moral code and ethics that forced him to do the right thing whether it made sense or not. He strove not to hurt even when attacked. This wasn’t a guy who would make a vow then turn around and break it. If he made her a promise, she bet he’d die to keep it.
But can I say the same?
Could she give him the same kind of promise? The same level of dedication, a dedication he deserved?

She was afraid she would be the one to let him down.
I don’t know if I’m good enough for him.

There had to be another way. “Couldn’t we just fake a mating until Zista leaves?” Betty asked.

“Lie to your companion?” His shocked tone said it all even before he lowly said, “No.”

Betty might have tried to argue, but his console took that moment to beep. Dyre glanced at the symbols scrolling the bottom of the view screen, intergalactic call display, and groaned, “Not now.”

“What is it? Are we about to be under attack again? Is something broken?”

His face took on a grim cast. “No. It’s worse than that.”

“Worse?” A frisson of fear worked its way up her spine. Anything that had Dyre looking so bleak couldn’t bode well. The man usually faced danger without a quiver. “What is it? Are we about to die?” If that was the case, then she really kicked herself for not jumping Dyre and ravishing him when she had the chance.

“No, we’re not going to die, but we might wish to. My father is calling.”

Talk about anticlimactic. Betty couldn’t help it. She laughed.

“If you see an advantage, exploit it.” –
A Mercenary’s Guide to Prosperity

“Always fight fair.” –
The Unofficial Guide to Heroism

Is she laughing?
The sound was compelling, adorable, addictive, but so out of place given the situation. His mercenary genes reared their heads and smacked down his gallant attempt to rise past the taunting. Dyre glared at Betty.

First, she acted as if mating with him were a fate worse than death, wanted him to lie to the Zonian so she wouldn’t have to return to her home world, then she mocked his agitation at his father calling. He should have stayed on the space station and fought a few more pirates and bandits. At least they showed some respect.

And I am not behaving in a hero-like fashion at all.
Nor did he want to. Being a hero wasn’t getting him where he needed with Betty, and he
really
needed to get closer to her. Like naked skin to skin closer. As in buried to the hilt, thrusting, sweating, and panting to a supernova climax closer.

But first, he had to deal with an irritating interruption. Already in a bad mood—which interestingly enough he hadn’t suffered much from since he left home—he opened the communication port and barked, “What do you want?”

“Is that any way to greet the head of your clan?”

“I have no clan. Or have you forgotten?” Dyre drummed his fingers on his armrest while Betty gaped at him.

“That was rude,” she whispered.

He shrugged. She’d soon learn that niceties didn’t go far with his father.

“I haven’t forgotten, but I just returned from a raiding mission and heard from your mother that you’ve kidnapped a human.”

“Rescued,” he corrected by rote.

His father’s bald crown wrinkled and his bushy brows drew together. But the true sign of his discomposure was the shade of his father’s scar, a deep reddish color only seen when greatly agitated, which, given Dyre’s antics, was often. “Just as bad! Those pale barbarians are a scourge.”

“How do you figure that?” Dyre asked.

“I’ve seen what’s happened to some fine warriors who took up with them. Tren, once the galaxy’s greatest assassin, has retired and become a councilor.”

Settling back in his seat, Dyre allowed the corner of his mouth to curl. “The way I heard it, he retired before meeting her and, as a delegate for our planet, has created more skirmishes for us to fight in than ever before, which, last I heard, was a good thing.”

His father growled. “Fine. But what about his brother? He also took up with one of those creatures. Where is he now?”

“Are you speaking of Jaro? He and his Zonian wife, according to rumor, were leading and fostering a rebellion on a planet in the Osirium quadrant and having a good time.” Or, as they’d apparently called it in the mercenary periodical Dyre still received, ‘having a wonderful vacation’.

“Why does it sound like you’re for these unholy pairings?” his father demanded.

Because I want one of my own.
“The humans are actually quite interesting and attractive in their own way,” Dyre replied, shooting a look at Betty. She caught the compliment and blushed, a human function he better understood since his studies of her kind. It meant she liked his words.

“Interesting and attractive? Those are not traits a Kulin looks for when choosing a female to seed.”

Dyre directed his attention back at his father. “Have you forgotten? I am not your typical mercenary Kulin.”

“How can I forget? Becoming a hero indeed. I knew letting your mother hug you as a child would make you soft. I’m telling you right now, you better not mate with this
human
. I won’t have a son of mine sullying our bloodlines.”

Dyre’s voice emerged low, a sign of his temper being held on a tight leash. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“I can, and I will. I am your father.”

“Actually you denounced me, which means you have no say.”

Now there was a shade of mauve he’d never seen before. And was there steam actually seeping from his father’s ears?

“Humans are weak and of limited intelligence. You’d be making a bigger mistake if you mated with one than your poor career choice.”

Betty made a rude noise as she interjected, “Now wait just a second there, you giant, purple bully.”

Uh-oh.
This was going to get interesting. Human dynamo versus his stubborn father. Dyre steepled his fingers and leaned back to enjoy.

“What did you call me, barbarian?” His father’s scowl, once so impressive to an impressionable boy, didn’t stop her march to the view screen.

She planted herself in front of Dyre, arms crossed, her entire stance aggressive—and sexy.

“You might be Dyre’s daddy, but if he wants to marry me, then that’s our business, not yours.”

Our?
Dyre liked the sound of that.

His father eyed her and snorted. “Having seen you, I don’t see why he would want to. Two breasts and albino skin. Even with his tarnished reputation as a hero, he could do better.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll have you know I’m a great catch. Any man, and especially your son, would be lucky to have me.”

His father gave a disdainful sniff. “I won’t allow it. And that is final.”

“Too late. Dyre has asked me to marry him, and I’ve said yes,” she announced.

She did? Dyre straightened in his seat and fought to hide his astonishment.

Black brows arched to the top of his father’s forehead. “Asked? A proper warrior doesn’t ask. He takes.”

“Dyre is more evolved than you obviously.”

“He’s weak. You watch, now that he knows of my displeasure, he’ll soon forget this foolishness of mating with you.”

“No he won’t. And he’s going to prove it.”

“I am?” Dyre asked, finally joining the confusing conversation.

“Show your dad. Marry me. Right now. Call the computer priest or say the magic words, whatever it is you do to mate with a girl. I’m ready.”

“Don’t you dare,” his father growled.

How had things progressed to this point? And what did he want? What should he do? The hero code would probably frown upon his mating under such circumstances. But did his unwritten code take into account a stubborn maiden who just hadn’t yet recognized she belonged to him?

Who cared? Perhaps, for this one instance in his life, being a mercenary and a true, old-fashioned Kulin warrior was the right choice.
The right choice for me.

And given his reversion to the old ways, he chose to mark her primitive style.

Rising from his seat, he didn’t spare a glance to his father, who shouted at him to stop. A force stronger than his duty, more compelling than his heroic code, drove him. He locked eyes with Betty, who gasped but stood her ground as he closed the gap between them.

The hero in him wanted him to ask, “Are you sure?”, but that voice lost to the mercenary still buried inside. That primitive part of him just wanted to take. Claim.
I will make her mine.