The sex we had before was rough, primal—painful, even—but what he just did was on a whole different level. I don’t know where he went while I was asleep, but it’s clear something has happened. The anger is radiating off him like a tangible thing, and even when he was inside me, he felt strangely distant, as if he wasn’t really there with me.
For the first time since he brought me back to his ship, I felt genuine fear that he would hurt me, and that only increased when he didn’t react to my pleas.
And yet… and yet… his magnetism is so strong that I came anyway—hard—the brutal way he was fucking me, the way his big, strong hands gripped me hard enough to leave bruises, his teeth sending bolts of pain through my core, and the callous way he flipped me over and took me roughly from behind, all combining to send me flying over the edge.
I didn’t know chemistry like that could exist.
I was still coming when he tore himself out of my spasming pussy, flipped me onto my back, and spurted all over me. It was hot and humiliating at the same time, and the way he did it was almost methodical, as if he was on a mission to cover as much of me as he could. And while I’d already been aware that he produced copious amounts of seed, I hadn’t realized quite how much it was until it was splashing on my skin—trickling down my chin, over my breasts, down my ribs, and pooling in my belly.
It felt feral, in a way, like an animal marking its mate.
I want to ask him about it, ask him what’s wrong, ask him why he’s so angry, but his purring is making me sleepy and calm, unable or unwilling to even speak. I snuggle against his hard, bulging muscles, breathing in his musk, and close my eyes as his arms clamp around me like a protective vise.
Whatever the issue is, we’ll sort it out in a minute. I just need to rest for a few moments…
* * *
Khan
“Khan?” Emma’s lips part as I set her on her feet. She begged me for a shower, but I refused. Instead, I allowed her to wash her face and brush her hair before rutting her once again. She’s drenched in my scent. Dressed in a fresh white robe. I toy with a strand of her soft hair. If I had my way, I’d stay and fuck her again before flying to my kingdom—Aurus and the council be damned.
I pick up the cloak I’ve chosen for her to wear, to shield her body and swathe her in my scent.
“Are we here?” Emma asks. “At your kingdom?”
“A slight detour,” I grunt and grasp the back of her neck, massaging lightly. Her big eyes blink at me.
“Is everything all right?” Her voice trembles slightly. She seems attuned to my moods, as I am to hers, as if through an invisible bond. Right now, she feels trepidation tinged with curiosity.
“All will be fine.” I bend down to meet her eyes. “I will never allow anyone to hurt you.”
“I know.” Her trepidation disappears, leaving only curiosity. Her pupils widen, drowning out the blue. Her perfume starts to rise. If I don’t hustle us out now, I will not be able to keep from fucking her once more.
And I’d prefer to get this over with.
I tug off the white robe and sweep the cloak around her. It’s one of mine, and it swathes her form completely. Perfect.
“Um, Khan?” Emma lifts an arm. Her limbs are swimming in the extra lengths of fabric. A third of the cloak pools at her feet. “I’m not sure I can walk in this.”
“No need.” I scoop her into my arms. She grasps my shoulders as I carry her out of our rooms, and down the corridor to the exit bay.
My crew has assembled there. They know I’ve been summoned to the Kings’ Council.
When I appear, they snap to attention, standing in two lines on either side of the gangway. Beyond them, the Golden Kingdom glitters.
“You have your orders,” I say. Ebel nods, and the rest strike their chests to acknowledge my command. As I pass Ebel, he flicks his eyes to a crewman standing down the line. He found the spy, and placed him at the end of the formation. Excellent.
As I stride down the gangway, I shift Emma to my left side. The traitor is a younger member of the crew. He wears his hair long, like mine. Perhaps he has delusions of replacing me. My fist curls over the handle of my scimitar.
I pause in front of him. “Was it worth it?” I ask.
The Alpha’s eyes widen. “Sir?”
“What did he promise you? Riches? Gold? Or a chance at the Omega?”
The traitor’s eyes flick to Emma’s face. Big mistake. My blade is out and flashing, separating his head from his neck with a sweep of my arm. I angle sideways to shield Emma from the blood spray.
She gasps. Before the body has even toppled, my scimitar is sheathed—the blade feeds on blood and flesh, and therefore cleans itself—and I’m moving down the gangway, striding towards the gaudy golden palace shimmering in the suns. Ebel calls for a crew member to kick the remains out of the ship. The traitor’s body can rot on Aurus’s doorstep. It can be a message to him, and all others who might try to come between me and my Omega.
