Amorous Overnight (2 page)

Hearing the whisper of his office door sliding open, he spun back around in time to watch his aide walk in, robe over his arm and a tray in his hands.

“Good afternoon, Minister,” Milnon said as he set the tray at the front edge of the desk and poured a tumbler of warmed water from the carafe.

“This day might require something a bit more bracing,” Cecine told him wryly.

“Yes, sir.” Milnon opened the wardrobe and hung the robe on the empty rack with military precision. “Did the luncheon not go well? I thought Miss King would be thrilled with the offer of an ambassadorship to Earth.”

“She is, but now it appears the little nurse will deliver her young aboard the
Heptoral
.”

The young male’s wide green eyes snapped to him. “I’ll fetch the Darsan at once, sir.”

As he left, Cecine smiled grimly. Being privy to, and in fact a facilitator of, his private affairs, Milnon knew exactly what a mating with Shelley Bonham would mean to Cecine—an abrupt end to his pleasure for the foreseeable future. Even the most suitable Terran females were allowed a postpartum exclusion from intercourse for six months to a year, and at barely five feet tall, she was far from suitable, especially for him. Not only was she the smallest adult Terran he’d ever met, but she was also the most fearful.

And possibly the most treacherous.

Milnon reappeared with another tray and poured a generous measure of Darsan whiskey into a blood-red tumbler, which Cecine picked up immediately. He took a healthy swallow of the deceptively smooth darsaberry distillate, savoring the sweet burn as it worked its way down his esophagus into his stomach.

“You’d make her a more suitable mate than I,” he observed morosely.

Milnon snorted. “Hardly, sir. And I mean that with all due respect. There’s a reason I’m at the bottom of the mating rolls.”

Cecine didn’t insult him by voicing agreement. While it was true that being small in stature and lacking in physical aggression would probably make Milnon more attractive to the petite Terran, it also made him unable to protect her. And Shelley Bonham would need protection—her association with a Narthani saboteur would make her as much a target for male violence as her curvaceous, fertile young body.

Cecine doused a perverse flare of arousal with another mouthful of the Darsan.

Had she truly been ignorant of her dead mate’s origins, as she claimed, and an unwitting pawn in his schemes, or was she a part of the larger conspiracy to discredit the Garathani on Earth and block their mate recruitment efforts?

The latter was far from impossible. Her fear of them wasn’t feigned—he’d smelled it radiating from her skin every time he passed her at the Alliance compound—but one needn’t be fearless to be devoted to a cause. In fact, opposition to the Garathani presence on Earth was driven by fear.

Unfortunately, her motivations would remain a mystery until after she’d delivered—pregnant females couldn’t be exposed to the corai serum that would render her unable to dissemble. And ultimately they didn’t matter. He owed her a debt and would repay it. Kellen had recounted how the little blonde nurse stood up to him and refused to leave Monica alone with him while she was suffering from pheromone intoxication.

However unnecessary the action might have been, Shelley Bonham had protected his daughter when she was unable to protect herself and Cecine’s honor demanded that he offer her the same protection. If an interrogation later revealed she was an active participant in her husband’s schemes…

Well, she would need his protection even more then.

He sighed again, this time in resignation.
“Affirmative, Tysan. I’ll claim both her and the babes. Establish my paternity at delivery and I’ll file a mating claim directly with the high council this afternoon.”

“Aye, Minister.”

“And Tysan, my claims will be classified male only. I don’t want anyone discussing the matter with Ms. Bonham until I’ve had a chance to talk to her myself.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Can I do anything else for you before the council session, sir?” Milnon inquired.

Cecine drained the tumbler in two more swallows before slamming it down on his desk. To hell with the council—if he had less than two hours as an unmated male left to him, he intended to make the most of them.

Standing, he ordered, “Inform the high council, with my regrets, that I won’t be in attendance for the afternoon session, then extend my warmest regards to Portia Mitchell and ask her to flare to my quarters with all due haste.”

“Yes, sir.”

Milnon stood back so that Cecine could precede him, but when the door slid open, another young male stood in his path, looking nonplussed. He must have expected Milnon to emerge.

“Ensign Hastion,” Cecine acknowledged with a short nod, expecting him to step aside.

Instead, the ensign squared his shoulders. “Excuse me, sir, but may I request a moment of your time?”

Cecine’s eyes narrowed. There could only be one reason Ensign Hastion was taking the notable risk of waylaying him. Hastion had been at the luncheon table when Empran announced Shelley Bonham’s labor, and Cecine had noted the way he frowned and retreated from the conversation as though contemplating weightier matters. Did he wish to claim her for himself? Surely not. He was as unsuitable for her as Milnon, in his own way, and was undoubtedly well aware of it.

“Make an appointment, Ensign. I’ve got another commitment now.”

“My apologies, Minister,” the ensign said, holding his ground with obvious trepidation, “but this is a matter of some urgency. I wouldn’t approach you otherwise.”

Cecine leveled his most penetrating stare on the young warrior. He’d picked a fine time to become aggressive. “You have five minutes.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Milnon, have Ms. Mitchell flared directly to my sleeping chamber when she’s ready,”
he sent as he walked back into his office.

Milnon tipped his head discreetly.
“Aye, sir.”

Once the door had closed, Cecine faced the ensign. “At ease.”

The ensign relaxed only marginally, focusing his gaze over Cecine’s shoulder. “Permission to address you regarding Shelley Bonham, sir.”

“You have permission to speak freely, Ensign. Ms. Bonham is one of the matters I must consider, and if you have thoughts, I might as well hear them.”

After a brief hesitation, the ensign looked him in the eye. “Sir, if Shelley delivers her young aboard the
Heptoral
, I would respectfully request to be named your second.”

Truly surprised, Cecine strolled over and stood directly in front of him, studying him critically. He’d always thought Hastion’s facial features rather too pretty, and now that his twin sister, Jasmine, had transitioned to full maturity, the resemblance between them was striking. Both possessed the same bounty of glossy brown hair, elegant bone structure, intriguingly lush mouth and crystalline blue eyes framed by long, dark lashes. It was unfortunate for the ensign—his looks in combination with his marked lack of aggression made him a frequent target for males who had something to prove in the sparring arena.

“You know I’m under no obligation to take a second,” Cecine said neutrally. The high council had exempted him from all current mating requirements because of the demanding nature of his office. Even now, he could step into the highest position on the mating rolls, claim his choice of pureblood Garathani female and keep her entirely to himself—assuming he were inclined to benefit at the expense of younger males and to the detriment of their waning genetic pool, which he most definitely wasn’t.

“I do, sir.”

“And yet you expect me to take you on?”

“I expect nothing, sir. I merely hope.”

Cecine clasped his hands behind his back and walked a slow circle around the ensign. Overall, Hastion acquitted himself well in the sparring arena and possessed the fighting skills of a seasoned warrior, which suggested that his failure to challenge for higher rank stemmed from a lack of ambition rather than ability. But any male who submitted himself for consideration as second to the minister of the Garathani high council—purely on speculation, before a pending claim was even announced—would have to be very ambitious indeed.

Or have ulterior motives.

Stopping beside him, Cecine wondered aloud, “What’s your interest in the matter?”

Hastion’s tongue darted out to wet his full lips and Cecine’s testicles tightened. He could dream up all sorts of perversion to wreak upon such a mouth, were it attached to anyone but a warrior.

“I like Shelley, sir, and I don’t wish to see her further traumatized by a forced mating with a male who clearly terrifies her.”

“It won’t be forced,” Cecine said impatiently. “She will have some choice in the matter.”

“With all due respect, sir, to mate with you or be parted from her children isn’t much of a choice.”

Cecine’s brow climbed upward. All due respect, indeed. “And you think mating with two males would make it less traumatizing?”

After another brief hesitation, the ensign said firmly, “I’m one of the few Garathani males she’s invited to call her Shelley, sir, and she seems more comfortable with me. I believe that will make the transition easier for her.”

A risky argument, Cecine thought as he continued his slow pacing. Ordinarily, being perceived as no threat by a female would be the deciding factor against any male. The ensign’s failure to challenge for rank, coupled with the fact that his sister had kicked him unconscious in an escape attempt while she was still in her small pretransition form, already made him an unimpressive candidate at best.

His tendency to participate in sexual demonstrations didn’t aid his cause. Bad enough he’d fucked a Terran female in front of the Alliance medical staff, but demonstrating the use of a masturbation probe for hundreds of Garathani warriors and actually ejaculating before their eyes…?

He might as well have tattooed
DISRESPECT ME
on his own forehead.

Not that he hadn’t done a mesmerizing job of demonstrating the probe, Cecine recalled with an uncomfortable surge of blood into his brief-restricted cock. He’d viewed the recording of the nude ensign’s enthusiastic orgasm more times than he cared to remember in the last ten days and grown hard as a pillar every time.

He went on the offensive again. “Were you intimate with her at the compound?”

Hastion’s eyes widened a fraction, then his jaw hardened and he turned to give Cecine an uncompromising look. “No. Sir.”

“You wouldn’t be the first. There were two other instances of unauthorized intercourse between warriors and married females.” Both males involved had been returned to the ship and permanently removed from the mating rolls, while the females had been offered the choice to return to their husbands or join the ranks of the recruits and be assigned mates. Both had elected to return to their husbands. Cecine didn’t know whom to pity most—the males who’d fallen prey to their own long-denied urges, the females who claimed to have fallen in love with them, or the husbands who’d been betrayed.

“I would never dishonor my father’s House by violating a council directive, sir,” Hastion said stiffly without looking away, “and I don’t believe Shelley would betray her mate, no matter how comfortable she might be with me or any other male.”

And the puzzle that was Ensign Hastion deepened. Cecine had never felt any interest in challenging the unassuming young male in the arena the way he did other warriors who needed taking down a notch or two, but he was definitely feeling some interest now. Perhaps too much interest.

“You realize she may never be able or willing to accommodate either of us in the mating bed, much less bear young,” he said. “Are you prepared to sacrifice your chance at a suitable mate for what may be a lifetime of using your probe?”

“I am, sir.”

“Even if she’s involved in the Narthani conspiracy?”

Still looking him in the eye, Hastion said flatly, “She isn’t, sir.”

“I hope for her sake that you’re right. Her life on Garathan would be infinitely more difficult if she were knowingly involved with Narthani spies.”

“Yes, sir.” Hastion gave a deferential nod, his gaze once more respectfully averted.

Cecine considered him for another moment. He hadn’t intended to inflict the unfortunate female on an ancillary mate, but the idea held merit. If he had thought to take a second, he would probably have named Milnon out of hand, but Hastion might be a better choice. He was a warrior, after all, and he clearly wasn’t the fool he made himself out to be. His reasoning was sound, he had the courage of his convictions and his boldness recommended him. Perhaps protecting the little Terran and her young was the impetus he needed to elevate himself as a warrior.

“All right, Ensign,” he said, “if Ms. Bonham does indeed deliver aboard ship, I’ll take your request into consideration.”

Hastion released a quiet breath. “Yes, sir. Thank you for allowing me to speak.”

“And Ensign…”

“Yes, sir?”

“No more sexual demonstrations.”

A wave of red washed over the ensign’s face. “Understood, sir.”

Portia had yet to make an appearance when Cecine walked out of his bathing chamber, toweling his wet flanks. “Empran, where is Portia Mitchell?”