Heroic Abduction (17 page)

And quiet descended on the clearing. A quiet caused by his jealous rage. A quiet that meant he’d lost control.

“My hero.”

Betty’s soft words were quite distinctive. But they could not be right. “Excuse me?” Dyre figured he must have misunderstood, the ringing of steel from the battle obviously affecting his hearing.

“I said you’re my hero.”

He blinked and peered around at the carnage, caused by him and his jealousy where she was concerned. “Um, you do realize I lost control and slaughtered without mercy all those present, without giving them a chance to surrender?” How could he? One of them had dared to touch her!

“I know. It was so freaking hot. Gory and sticky too. But mostly hot.” She sighed and smiled at him as she ran a finger down his chest.

But Dyre still couldn’t grasp her logic. “What happened to ‘I can take care of myself’, and ‘I don’t have to always come to your rescue’?”

“You don’t. But a girl likes to know her lover cares. That she’s desired.”

“You had doubts? Have I not shown you how much I covet your body?”

“Yes. I’ve also seen your protective side. Your chivalrous one. All hot I might add, but now you’ve shown me that you’re also capable of jealousy.”

“And this impresses you?”

“Yes, because it shows that you like me.”

He couldn’t help a barked laugh. “How could you think there was any doubt? Only for you would I forsake my vows to do good. For you I would stand against an army larger than this. I would wage war against entire worlds. Steal. Kill. Lie. I would do anything for you. You are my mate. My reason for existing.”

The radiance in her face stunned him. “I love you too. And I don’t care what the rest of the universe says about you, you are
my
hero.”

He wondered if she was being sarcastic, but the way she flung her arms around him and rested her head on his chest said otherwise.

And then her words truly sank in. Her hero.
Her
hero. It was as if a supernova had gone off in his mind and heart. All those years searching for that elusive title, striving to attain it, and in the moment he’d done something selfish, something violent, for the one he cherished above all others, he discovered the one and only act he needed, to become the noble champion he’d always wanted to be.

Not a defender for the galaxy or strangers, but a warrior made exclusively for her. A knight who loved his damsel so much he would do anything for her.
Anything …
Even kill misguided aliens for thinking they could lay hands on his mate.

“I finally understand love,” he practically shouted. “It’s why you drive me mad!”

Betty lifted her head and pursed her lips. “Excuse me?”

“It explains so much. Why I can’t show mercy where you’re concerned. Why I feel my blood freeze whenever you pull a stunt. Why I want to wrap you up in foam and keep you safe. It’s because I love you. Every stubborn, curvy, danger-prone piece of you.”

“You could have stopped at I love you,” was her dry reply, but she tempered it with a smile.

“I love you.” And before he said something to ruin it, he plastered his mouth to hers, understanding now why he felt such a flare when they touched, why he forsook his vows as a valiant protector where she was concerned. Love trumped all. Betty was everything. His whole world. When he touched her, nothing else mattered.

But it didn’t mean he was irresponsible.

He had his pistol aimed and his mate tucked behind him even before the intruder spoke.

“Damn, Betty. Where did you find that giant purple hunk?”

“The life of a mercenary is a lonely one. Alcohol in copious amounts will help—as will a bordello.” –
A Mercenary’s Guide to Prosperity

“The life of a hero is lonely, until you rescue the right damsel.” –
The Unofficial Guide to Heroism

Much as Betty enjoyed kissing her heroic husband—who’d finally admitted he loved her!—she couldn’t ignore the interruption or demand he kill them quickly so they could resume.

“Clarabelle? Is that really you?”

With her hair tied back in a thick braid, a gleaming machete in one hand and a laser pistol in the other, the friend she’d gone hunting for–and practically given up on finding–stood grinning at the edge of the carnage.

“In the flesh. But a better question is what are you doing here necking with tall, muscled, and purple? And what’s with all the dead bodies?”

“I’m here looking for you.”

“Really?” Clarabelle sounded and looked surprised.

“Of course, really,” Betty snapped. “You stopped communicating with me, and I got worried.”

Clarabelle rolled a shoulder. “I was busy.”

“Too busy to let me know you were alive?”

“The Zonian council knew I was.”

“Well, I didn’t.”

“Sorry.”

Sorry? That was all Clarabelle had to say? Good thing Dyre held her back, or she would have spoken with Clarabelle using sign language. Fist connecting with annoying friend’s nose translated to,
Bitch, how dare you make me worry about you when you were fine?
“So what have you been doing, other than ignoring your friends?”

“Checking things out. Following up on some interesting clues. Looking for some guys for the other orphans to hook up with.”

“You’re on a quest to find them some boyfriends?”

“More or less. Since Earth is off limits, we’re going to need something, or someone, for the gals, or there are going to be a lot of irritable and sexually deprived women soon on Zonia.”

Good point. “And did you find some?” Because the one by her side was taken, and friend or not, Betty wasn’t sharing.

“Yup. But I don’t know if they’ll work out. Damned barbarians if you ask me.”

“What makes you say that?” Betty asked.

“Because we are,” was the gravelly response. A muscled male dropped from a tree several yards away, his bronze skin rippling and drawing the eye with its oiled perfection. He wore a loincloth, a sling for his blade, and nothing else. Betty blinked then frowned as her purple husband remained silent, until now.

“This one is mine,” Dyre growled.

Possessive. So sexy, but unnecessary. Betty might look, but she had all she needed standing once again protectively in front of her. She patted his back. “Easy, big guy. No one’s going to take me.”

The other guy laughed. “Rest easy. I have no need of your female, Kulin. I have one of my own.” The fellow then slapped Clarabelle’s butt. She squeaked and tossed him a dirty look.

“How many times do I have to tell you I don’t belong to you?” Clarabelle hissed.

“Are you going to argue with me still?”

“Sex doesn’t make us married, buddy. We had this discussion already.”

Betty’s eyes widened. Wow, Clarabelle truly had gone on an adventure and met her own stubborn male.

“And we shall discuss it again.”

Betty didn’t need to peek around Dyre’s body to interpret the squeal or the hollered, “Put me down, you thug.” Nor did she feel an urge to step in.

“Betty, help me.”

She angled her head around Dyre and smirked at her friend, who dangled down the warrior’s back. “Help you? That wouldn’t be the Zonian way. Seems to me, you’ve accomplished part of your mission. You’ve found a male to breed.”

“But he wants to keep me.”

“You know what Pantariste would say.” The mightiest and wiliest prevail. And since Clarabelle’s only danger was in ravishment, which, despite her protests Betty suspected she didn’t mind—she’d spotted the hickey on the half-naked alien’s neck—then there was no point in risking her champion.

“Hey, I thought you came to save me?”

“Yeah, but as you just told me, you didn’t need any help.” Nothing like throwing Clarabelle’s words right back at her.

Dyre chuckled. “Now where have I heard that before?”

“Did I miss a mighty battle?” the tanned stranger asked, nonplussed by the cursing Clarabelle currently hammering at his back.

Dyre’s body stiffened. “Just a misunderstanding. The one in charge of the guard post thought he could touch what was mine. I showed him the error of his ways.”

“Nice.”

Men.
Betty wanted to shake her head at the other’s brief approval and admiring assessment.

“Are we going to have a problem?” Dyre asked.

“I never did like the pompous idiot. He only got the position because of his father.”

“So we are free to leave?”

“I have no fight with you, although that could change if you plan to take the female I’ve claimed.”

“I have my hands full keeping my own out of trouble.”

Conspiratorial smiles abounded, and Betty scowled but kept her “Not funny,” remark to herself. No point in starting a fight.

Clarabelle, however, didn’t keep her mouth shut. “What? You mean you came all this way and aren’t going to rescue me?”

“Sorry, but this hero is taken,” Betty replied, hugging Dyre around the waist.

“It is time you accepted your fate, freckled one,” the yellow-eyed barbarian warrior declared. “Say goodbye to your friend.”

“No. You can’t do this,” Clarabelle railed. “I refuse to let you abduct me, you giant barbarian. I’m on a mission, dammit. You need to let me go so I can get back to the Zonian world and let them know I didn’t find any suitable males for breeding.”

The male ignored her, instead stating, “If you would, Kulin warrior and his mate, could you kindly relay a message to the Zonian homeworld that, despite their tendency to cause havoc and their contrary nature, my city would gladly welcome any human females who are in search of husbands. We find ourselves short of females at the moment due to a pandemic several galactic revolutions ago.”

“I shall tell them. Good luck taming your mate.”

“I don’t need luck,” the warrior exclaimed as he strode off toward the jungle. “I need ear coverings lest she render me deaf.”

Clarabelle screeched and cursed even as she and her male friend disappeared from sight, leaving Betty alone with Dyre.

“Well, that was kind of unexpected,” she groused.

“You are sad your friend is staying? Did you wish me to fetch her back?”

“What? No. But I am kind of disappointed. Here I thought I’d be coming to her rescue, and instead, I find out she’s fine. More than fine, even if she’s pretending she’s peeved about it.”

“Ah,” he said, his expression brightening. “You expected a heroic moment. I can understand that. Perhaps you can save someone else instead?”

“Who? I don’t see anything around here that requires saving?” Dyre was certainly thorough when his jealousy was roused.

“How about you save me from myself? According to most of the galaxy, I am a menace. I could use a heroine to keep me safe.” His boyish smile tugged at her.

“I think I can do better than that. How about I love you forever and ever, and we keep your noble acts to those involving me.”

“I can think of no better quest than to spend my days at your side.”

And in bed.

They didn’t waste any time returning to his big ship and departing. While Clarabelle’s warrior might claim he had no issue with the jealous slaughter, Betty wasn’t taking any chances with her husband.

Zista didn’t even cluck when Dyre said they were adjourning to their chambers and to only disturb them if under attack.

His fervent need matched her own. Betty managed to shrug out of her new duds before Dyre could rip them from her, but just barely. Naked, they came together for a torrid kiss, words not needed, not when touch and sensation said it all.

They could only do so much while standing though, so she wasn’t surprised to feel her back hit the mattress. He didn’t waste time spreading her legs and settling between them. The moist warmth of his breath brushed the skin of her thighs as he lightly bit his way around her sex, each nibble just heightening her awareness and making her wetter.

“You smell delicious,” he murmured before nudging her clit with the wet tip of his tongue. She shivered as he traced the pink flesh of her mound, an erotic exploration that drew forth a moan. But it was the long, wet lick from her clit to her lips that made her cry out, “More!”

Again, he bathed her, probing between her lips, thrusting his tongue into her sex. Betty fisted the sheets, trying to control herself from bucking. She didn’t want to do anything that would stop his sensual tease. Not when it felt so good.

His tongue circled around her clit, and she panted as her whole sex clenched. His lips grasped her sensitive flesh and tugged. Forget control, she bucked, her hips rising from the mattress. But he seemed to enjoy that because he chuckled, his warm breath tickling across her wetness. Big hands held her down as he continued to tease and torture her most sensitive region. He built her desire taut and piled it up higher and higher with every lick and suck. Then he stopped.

“No,” she moaned in protest, opening her eyes to find him staring at her, his own gaze glowing bright.

“You will come on my cock,” was his command.

Oh really? Order her around, would he? She had ways of making that work—in her favor.

“Lie on your back,” she whispered. “Let me ride you.”

While Dyre enjoyed being in control, she’d discovered his one weakness, her atop him. For some reason he quite enjoyed it when she straddled his hips and took her time easing her moist channel until it rubbed against the head of his dick.

Betty grabbed a hold of him and rubbed his mushroom tip against her clit and the opening to her sex. She covered him in her cream. He groaned. His body grew tense. He was so hers.

With one motion, she sat down hard, sheathing him fully inside, her sex tight and hot around his pulsing length.

She wasn’t the only one to let out a gasp at the pleasurable sensation. He filled her so snugly, stretched her so perfectly. Rough fingers dug into her hips as her pussy squeezed him, an involuntary quiver that they both enjoyed. Slowly, she rocked atop him, driving him even deeper, putting pressure on her clit.

“By the stars,” he groaned.

She couldn’t reply, not when she could barely breathe. Instead, she concentrated on her sliding rhythm, pushing and grinding against his hard length, driving him deeper and deeper.