“You think I should make her my Raisa?” I asked. “So soon?”
“If we are taking her into potential battles against the Empire, it might be wise. Once she's considered Vandar and once she's legally bonded to a Raas, any act against her becomes an actagainst our people. To attack a Raisa of the Vandar would be tantamount to suicide for the rebuilding Zagrath. Even they wouldn't risk open war with the Vandar over one human. Making her your Raisa would make her untouchable."
I pivoted toward the window. His logic was sound, as always. It was good strategy. I would not tell him that it was also what my heart desired. “Then she will also need a dress for the bonding ceremony. If we must be bonded before we encounter any Zagrath, then the ceremony will need to be soon. You can arrange it?”
Mymajakdid not respond right away, but then he released a satisfied sigh from behind me. “It is done, Raas.”
I stared out through the long narrow window after he left me, watching the stars streak past as we accelerated and turning my decision over in my mind. I was right about getting to the next target as soon as possible. The governor's life depended on our speed. That decision was sound.
But was I thinking straight about keeping Jasmine with me? Every logical part of my mind screamed that I should take her to the colony and get her as far away from Imperial forces as possible. Keeping her on the warbird with me was the opposite of keeping her safe in more ways than one, even if Venik was right that taking her as my Raisa was a way to safeguard her.
I could already sense that my desire for her, my need to possess her was stronger than even my discipline as a Vandar, and I was very much afraid that I'd sacrifice anything to keep it.
Chapter 27
Jasmine
What in the actual hell had I let happen?
It took me a few minutes to recover after Wrexxon untangled himself from me, dressed, and left his quarters with little more than a glance in my direction. Then it was only minutes more until I was out of bed, tugging my dress over my head, and pacing the floor.
Once the Vandar warlord was gone, the haze of desire that seemed to buzz between us evaporated, leaving me furious with myself and not a little bit sore. There was no use denying to myself that I’d wanted every bit of what had happened. Hell, I’d even begged him to fuck me.
My cheeks ignited at the memory, and heat arrowed south, pulsing between my legs. “Oh, no,” I muttered, glancing down. “I’m not letting you make any more decisions.”
There was no arguing that the Vandar was my weakness or that I hadn’t loved every torrid moment with him. I couldn’teven promise myself I wouldn’t fall right back into his arms the moment he walked back through the doors.
“Way to make things difficult for him,” I grumbled. “Way to resist.”
But I’d forgotten exactly why I was supposed to resist. Was it because he’d taken me from my home? If the Empire had targeted me for execution, then he’d saved my life. Was it because he’d kept me in his quarters? I’d been the one to climb naked into his bed and attempt to seduce him.
Maybe instead of trying to fight against falling for him, I should admit that it was a lost cause. I hadn’t been lying when I’d told him I was his. Every fiber of my being craved more of his touch. Which was going to be a challenge if he still intended to dump me at the nearest Vandar safe house or whatever he’d called it.
Before we’d fallen into bed, we’d been debating the issue. Well, I’d been debating. He’d been shutting me down and hoisting me over his shoulder to keep me quiet. Maybe he’d be more amenable to keeping me around now. Then a dark thought danced through my brain. Or maybe fucking me had been his way of distracting me so I would stop arguing.
“Tvekkinghell,” I whispered fiercely, finding the Vandar curse much more satisfying.
Then the door slid open, and I spun, expecting to see Wrexxon stride in and opening my mouth to laugh into the reasons he should change his mind about leaving me behind while he rescued the other Imperial targets. But it wasn't Wrexxon.
It was a Vandar, but he was less battle-scarred than Wrexxon and his officers. Older, though it was hard to tell with the Vandar, and dressed in leather pants instead of a battle kilt and avest that covered his chest. A satchel of sorts was slung over one shoulder.
“Who are you?”
“Skaz. I’ve been sent to dress you.”
I took a step back. “Dress me? I can dress myself, thanks.”
His eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Not literally. The Raas sent word through hismajakthat you need appropriate clothing.”
I remained skeptical. “Appropriate for what?”
Skaz’s gaze slid down my dirty, wrinkled dress and he tilted his head. “I think anything that isn’t as filthy and rumpled as what you’re wearing would be more fitting for a bride of the Vandar.”
I gulped at the word bride. “Is that what he told you? That I’m his bride?”
The Vandar shook his head and walked closer, as if I was speaking nonsense. “The entire horde knows he took a war bride from Lexxona.” He studied me more carefully now. “I would have thought he might have let you pack a few things, but apparently you’re wearing everything you brought.”
I glanced down at the dress that had seen better days. I’d even put it on inside out after grabbing it from the floor. Fabulous.
