Ren: Warlord Brides: Warriors of Sangrin #11 Page 15

  With one hand on her back, he held her against him. The other stroked her hair. Cradled thus, she worked herself up and down his length. His tattoos glowed brighter than he had ever seen. His tail thumped the cushions next to him.

  “I can feel them,” she moaned, face buried against his chest.

  Tension coiled inside him, needing release. Unable to hold back, he flipped their position so Emmarae was on her back.

  He dove into her, pumping hard. Her thighs tightened around his hips. She gripped the armrest to brace herself; even the motion of his frantic pumping shoved her against it. Her wonderfully soft body moved with him, giving and always inviting more. Resilient. A survivor. The scars rubbed against him, a testament to the spirit burning inside her.

  He needed more. He’d never have enough of his mate.

  Emmarae chanted his name, repeating yes and more and harder, then just like that. She tensed around him, her legs and her core.

  Coiled tension released, shooting up his spine and along every nerve in his body. He released deep inside, filling her with his seed. His mate.

  His.

  He had been a fool to let her go. Never again.

  Chapter 16

  Ren

  Tholla offered the best place to meet the rest of his team without garnering too much attention. Registered as a civilian cargo vessel, the ship easily acquired clearance to land on the surface.

  “We’re not staying in orbit?” Emmarae asked.

  “The settlement is small, but the trading post is comprehensive,” Ren explained. Interstellar ship building was the foundation of the planet’s economy, but the ports offered much in the way of maintenance and repair. Shops stocked almost anything a long-haul vessel required. “It is a good stop on a long journey.”

  “I know. I’ve been here before.”

  He had not considered that all the amenities that made the planet appealing to him also appealed to one such as Pashaal. “The high volume of travelers must obfuscate her business.”

  “If that’s a fancy way of saying that no one noticed her, then yes. Lots of people coming and going and no one paying attention. She did a lot of business here.” Emmarae frowned. “I’m sure most of it was actually import-export.”

  “It is difficult to enforce tariffs so far from the system core. Officials are more willing to look the other way with compensation. Fasten your safety harness. We are entering the atmosphere.”

  “I double-checked, but sure.” Emmarae checked the harness just as the ship shuddered.

  A newer vessel, one with a sleeker design and better shielding, could slip into the atmosphere with hardly a whisper. Ren preferred to feel the change in pressure in the bones of the ship. It made him feel like he was actually piloting an interstellar vessel and not confined to a suite of rooms for days at a time.

  “We will have dinner on the surface,” he said.

  “Like a date?”

  “I intend to court you.”

  Her expression blanked, mirth and curiosity shuttered behind a neutral expression. This was the face she wore while on Pashaal’s ship. It distressed him then, and it distressed him now.

  “That sounds great,” she said. Nothing in her tone supported her words.

  He did intend to court his mate. He would win her affection. There was no alternative.

  Emry

  Courting.

  Emry hadn’t expected to feel all fluttery when Ren stated his intentions to court her. Yes, they had sex. Yes, it was amazing and if she was being strictly honest, it was tender and—gasp—loving. Yes, she enjoyed talking with him. He was funny, clever, and was the master of offhand comments that made her laugh. Sure, he was good-looking, but he was also kind. She saw it in the way he babied his monster of a cat. And babied the ship, too.

  She liked him, the one thing she never expected. She liked her randomly selected, contractually obligated alien husband.

  And he wanted to court her.

  Emry thought she was too much of a grown, sensible adult to squeal with glee in front of him, so when she got to her cabin, she grabbed a pillow and squealed into it.

  She squealed so hard.

  She dressed quickly in stretchy black pants and a sarcastic t-shirt. Her wardrobe was limited to work clothes whose entire existence was to get grubby and stained.

  Tholla’s market district sprawled in all directions, radiating from the spaceport like a sunburst. On past trips, she had been limited to shopping for her job and not exploring all the market had to offer. A mix of pop-up stands, carts, and buildings, Emry allowed interesting aromas to pull her through the maze. Eventually, they grabbed a table at an outdoor patio.

  A large umbrella shaded them from the afternoon sun. A warm breeze stirred through the crowded market, but the temperature was tolerable in the shade.

  “You know, I had a theory about dumplings,” she said when the server placed a large platter of dumplings smothered in a creamy sauce in front of her. “It’s a universal food. Dough filled with something. Simple and delicious. Everyone has a dumpling.”

  Ren ordered a similar dish but fried and served with sauteed vegetables. The plate sizzled as it was set on the table. He must have noticed her eye-fucking his dumplings because he nudged the plate toward her.

  She scooped up two and added them to her plate.

  “On Rolusdreus, we have a sweet dumpling that is filled with nuts and honey, but those are reserved for holidays. A common morning meal is a dumpling filled with nutritional yeast. It is dense and very filling.”

  “Do you have a recipe?” Nutritional yeast sounded questionable, but she was always up for trying new foods.

  “No. Describe an Earth dumpling,” he said.

  “We have several. Ravioli, pierogies, shumai, gyoza, bao, wontons, samosas, rissoles, knishes, and tamales if you think about corn masa instead of wheat.”

  “So many.”

  “Those are just the ones off the top of my head. I didn’t even mention pasties, patties, or empanadas. Every cuisine on Earth has some variation on dumplings, and I’ve found so many on other planets. I want to try them all.” Her hips might protest, but her stomach was up for the challenge.

  They shared their dishes and ordered shaved ices for dessert. Conversation flowed easily, like they had known each other for years. Technically, they did, but Emry wasn’t going to get bogged down on technicalities. Ren felt like a friend, and she wondered if this was what their relationship would have been like if they had stuck together.

  Emry tensed, waiting for the old ache in her chest at the memory of being rejected.

  Nothing came.

  Huh.

  “What is wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Emry shoved a spoonful of the colorful shaved ice in her mouth and grinned.

  “Your lips are blue. It is alarming.”

  That earned him a stuck-out tongue, no doubt stained a technicolor blue.

  Nothing had changed about their past, but everything had changed about their present. She liked it. Loved it, even if that frightened her a teeny amount.

  A group of three people waited outside the ship when Ren and Emry returned. Two men, one red and one violet, towered over one slender human woman. Her hair was a concoction of blue, purple, and pink.

  “Do you know them?” Emry asked.

  “You are late,” Ren said, striding up to the red guy, who was obviously from the same planet as Ren. They slapped each other on the back and called each other names. It was very bromantic. Ren made quick work of the introduction.

  The big red guy was Havik. The petite woman, his mate, Thalia. The Sangrin male was Zalis. He had a lurking presence and had to duck his head when entering the ship, lest his horns bash into the frame. Despite his bulk, peacefulness rolled off him like birdsong on a misty morning.

  “My mate, Emmarae,” Ren said, his voice filled with pride.

  All three turned their collective gaze at her. Emry held up a hand and wiggled her fingers, suddenly shy.


  “Your mate,” Havik said.

  “Yes. My mate. Do not make me repeat myself. It is tiresome. You are tiresome,” Ren quipped. “Come. I have news.”

  Ren strode up the ramp, unconcerned that Havik continued to stare at Emry with burning curiosity. After a few seconds that felt like hours, Thalia elbowed him. “Come on. Don’t be rude.”

  “He explains nothing. Am I to ignore the female? That is rude.”

  “You don’t have to ignore me. You can talk to me,” Emry said.

  The Sangrin—Zalis—ignored them all and pushed his way up the ramp. After another eternity of staring, Emry gave a weak smile. Havik huffed and entered the ship.

  In the common area, Ren occupied the center of the sofa, the cat on his lap, stroking Mittens like a villain right out of a movie.

  “Will you explain, or am I to pry the information out of you?” Havik asked, which earned him another elbow prod from Thalia. “What? I would be careful not to get too much on the furniture.”

  “That’s not the point,” Thalia said.

  “You complained last time that it was difficult to clean.”

  “Maybe stop threatening violence on Ren in front of his mate?”

  “Tea? Coffee? Cookies! I made cookies,” Emry practically shouted as she rushed to the cabinets. She pulled out the storage container with her most recent batch and started the coffee maker. While she busied herself, Ren gave a quick rundown of everything since they met on Pashaal’s ship. Well, mostly everything. He went into great detail about her hijacking the ship.

  “My mate is a badass. Such skill! Such ruthlessness! Other males should envy me that my mate is so vicious,” Ren said, his voice dripping with pride.

  Three sets of eyes swiveled to her. “You stole the ship? This ship?” Thalia asked.

  Emry shrugged. “What? Like it’s hard?”

  Ren then produced the chip discovered in Pashaal’s necklace.

  “Are you certain this device contains what we need?” Havik eyed the chip with skepticism.

  “I am certain. Zalis will need to decrypt it,” Ren said.

  “You suggest we abandon our mission and go searching for your mate’s sister?” Havik folded his arms over his chest, unimpressed.

  “It’s a side quest,” Thalia said.

  “This is not our mission,” Havik grumbled.

  “It’s mission-adjacent. Besides, I want to catch those fucking sentient being traffickers and make them pay.” Thalia closed a fist as if to demonstrate her resolve.

  “We do not know if this Gemmarae was abducted,” Havik replied.

  “She was,” Emry and Thalia said at the same time. Something unlocked inside Emry, tension uncoiling or rusty spokes turning. It felt so validating to have someone believe her.

  “Gemma fits the profile,” Thalia said, once Emry gave a slight nod to continue. “She’s a vulnerable woman, no family, and a high probability of a genetic match. And she has a history of tampering with her info in the system. She’s not in the database, so the government won’t come knocking on her door once a year for testing. Gemma is the perfect candidate to be abducted.”

  “But she does have a family. Me,” Emry said.

  “And you’re off-planet.”

  Great. The one thing she did to protect her sister left her exposed. Freaking fantastic.

  All this talking wasn’t solving anything. Gemma was still out there, lost, and scared, and they just kept talking.

  The tray slammed down on the low table, rattling cups, and saucers.

  “Milk? We have a nut milk,” Emry said, using a cloth to mop up the spilled coffee.

  Thalia took a cup, muttered her thanks, and handed it to Havik. The big red guy looked at the coffee cup in confusion before passing it to Zalis, who appeared even more confused.

  “I am doing this,” Ren said. “You will help me, or you will remove yourself from this ship.”

  The two men stared at each other, challenge in their eyes. Tails snapped and lashed behind them. Havik stood a head taller than Ren, broader, more imposing, and terrifying in nearly every measurable way. Emry swore smoke rolled out of Havik’s ears.

  Ren clenched his fists but did not break eye contact. He had told her he was the smallest in his clan, that his life had been unending torment as a consequence, but Emry hadn’t understood what that meant. Ren was large… for a human. He was imposing… for a human. For a Mahdfel? Diminutive.

  “You cannot force me off my ship,” Havik growled.

  “You are old and slow. I can break your knee and drag you out by your tail before you know what happened.”

  Zalis drained his coffee. “I will start decoding the chip you found. Does the missing female have a tracker implanted?”

  “No,” Ren said, finally breaking eye contact with Havik. “She has contacted my mate with various messages. I have been tracing them.”

  Zalis sniffed, almost haughty. “Then we will be waiting a long time. I can trace the messages as well.”

  The tension between Havik and Ren vanished. The alien warriors sprang into action with minimal conversation, as if the team had reached a decision.

  They were going to find Gemma.

  Chapter 17

  Ren

  The warlord was displeased. Ren suspected that little satisfied Paax beyond his mate and family. He kept that opinion to himself while he debriefed the warlord over a secure connection.

  The investigation into Councilor Pashaal was effectively over. A net was tightening around her. Whether Paax was the one to finally capture her or not, she would be caught.

  Ren recited meditation in his mind to keep his expression neutral during the call. He expected censure along with a reasonable and measured act of discipline. But the feral part of his brain, the part that sought survival above all else, expected the warlord to fly into a rage, to threaten his mate, to deliver punishment like fire from the depths of dark space.

  Instead, Paax responded with, “You finally retrieved your mate. I expected you to do so immediately. I lost my favorite dagger to Mylomon. You owe me a new dagger.”

  “I… Yes, sir.”

  “Something interesting. Do not bore me, warrior.”

  “Stars forbid.”

  “Contact the Judgment when you locate the female. I will send reinforcements,” Paax said, before disconnecting the call.

  Well, that was interesting. Thalia said that Gemma’s abduction fit the pattern of abducted females. The warlord agreed.

  In the common area, Havik and Thalia focused their attention on him. Emmarae retreated to their cabin. Work consumed Zalis, as always.

  “You are my favorite,” Ren said, patting the male on the shoulder. Zalis gave him a confused look but carried on with his poking at screens. “You,” he said, pointing to Havik before the large lump had a chance to speak, “will not ask me about my mate. Not yet. We have work that must be done before gossip.”

  “Inquiring about her existence is not gossip,” Havik grumbled.

  “I have located the source of the messages,” Zalis said, distracting Ren from his very witty, very clever comeback. “The signal bounced across the system on various relays, but it wasn’t hard to track. The encryption was very sloppy. I would be ashamed to be associated with such a mess.”

  “Suspiciously sloppy?” Thalia asked.

  “Or done in haste,” Zalis said. A map of the system appeared on a screen. A red light pulsed at a nearby moon. “The signal originated here.”

  “What do we know about that moon?” Havik asked.

  “Mining operations, mostly to source the raw materials for Tholla’s shipyards,” Zalis answered.

  “Lots of warehouses. Lots of disused buildings. Sounds like a good place for smugglers to hide,” Thalia added.

  “I will notify the warlord. We should leave immediately.” Ren reached for his comm.

  “Rest a cycle,” Havik said. “This requires strategy. We will rescue no one if we rush off without a plan.”

  Havi
k’s sensible response startled Ren. Usually, he was the one to advocate strategy while Havik rushed in, swinging his blade.

  “Yes. Tomorrow,” Ren agreed. Until then, his mate waited for him.

  Light spilled from the corridor into his cabin, highlighting the curves of Emmarae’s form on the bed.

  His tattoos itched as they sparked to life, pleased at the sight of her in their shared bed. He did not understand how a dishonorable male such as himself had such a wonder of a mate. Her temper sparked and flared like a flame dancing in the breeze, beautiful and dangerous. She captivated him. She could warm him against the cold night air or burn him to cinders. She was a marvel, and for some reason he could not explain, she tolerated him.

  He would win her affection. She already had his heart.

  Emry

  The bed dipped as Ren sat at the edge.

  “It’s late,” she said, rolling to her side to face him. In the darkness, he was a hulking shadow. Only the most gruesome features of his face picked up the dim light.

  “There was much work to do.” He adjusted the sheet, pulling it up to her neck.

  Emry tugged it back down; the ship’s temperature was kept just shy of stifling. Being tucked in all cozy and snug only made a sweaty mess.

  “We located the source of the messages,” he said.

  She jerked upright, completely alert. “That’s wonderful! When do we leave?”

  “You must remain here.”

  “No. This is my sister,” she said.

  “This is reconnaissance. We do not know what we will find. It is better for you to remain here, where I know you will be safe.”

  “I don’t want to sit and wait and be useless.” She wasn’t pouting. Sure, that sounded like a pout, but she just woke up. No one sounds like a ray of sunshine when they first wake up.

  “The situation could be dangerous, and there are too many unknown factors.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “You are too precious to risk.”