The Morcai Battalion: Invictus. Diana Palmer

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СКАЧАТЬ to discuss something so intimate with you.”

      “Indeed. You and I have engaged in many verbal battles over the years, but our encounters have been nonphysical. This one will be.”

      She searched his eyes, looking for any sign of what he was thinking. “What do you expect of me, sir?” she asked in a soft, uncertain tone. “What is it like?”

      The question, added to the sudden burst of pheromones exuding from her body when he stared at her, kindled a helpless reaction. His face tautened. Like a snake striking, his hand shot out and suddenly grasped her long hair at her nape and jerked, pulling her face up to his. The eyes stabbing into hers were jet-black. “It is like this,” he said in a voice which sounded so alien that at first it was barely recognizable. It was similar to the sound a cat might make when it was angry, except with words instead of hisses. His head bent, so that his eyes filled the world, and the pressure of his hand forced her body close to his in an arc, thrilling and frightening at the same time.

      Her heart jumped up into her throat. He seemed, for the first time in their long relationship as commanding officer and subordinate, so alien that she almost didn’t recognize him.

      “You begin to understand,” he whispered, in that same odd tone, and for a split second, in a flash of presence like the blinking of a light, he seemed to be taller, far more massive than he looked. She must be hallucinating, she thought.

      Her hands flattened against his robes, feeling the strength and warmth of his chest under them.

      “I am not what I seem,” he said.

      She was a little intimidated, but she didn’t let it show. She nodded. “I know. My instruments and my senses don’t coincide.” His eyes changed color yet again, to a burnished gold, almost glowing. She didn’t know what it meant.

      His hand lessened its pressure on her hair and became oddly caressing. “Weakness is prey. It invites brutality. Do you understand that?”

      Her lips parted. “The more a female yields control, the more a male exercises it.”

      He nodded. His gaze dropped to her throat, softly vulnerable at the angle. “We are a passionate species,” he whispered, bending his head. His mouth opened and slid over her throat. She felt the faint edge of his teeth. Even they felt different than they looked, different than her instrument readings described them. The slow rasp of them against the vulnerable skin of her throat should have been frightening. It was only exciting. Her heart began to race.

      His nostrils splayed as stronger pheromones rushed up into them. “Delicious,” he rasped. And suddenly his tongue slid over the soft flesh, abrasive and stimulating.

      Her nails stabbed into his chest and she gasped audibly.

      He laughed.

      She was alive as she’d never been alive, on edge, shivering with sensation and curiosity. He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. His own narrowed. His chin lifted arrogantly. He looked at her as if she already belonged to him. She recalled that expression from earlier, non-physical encounters and realized that he had been possessive of her for a long time.

      “We are a warrior culture,” he said in a deep, velvety tone. “We conquer. For generations, our women have been taught that submission to the violence is the only way to survive it.”

      Her breath was coming in little spurts. “Is that why they’re so afraid of it?”

      “Yes. They dread the onset of the mating ritual, because they fear the aggression of the male. They have been taught that it is not feminine to meet passion with passion.”

      She was seeing things she’d been blind to. His calm demeanor was a front. He could control his actions, except when he was exposed to Madeline’s involuntary pheromones. What she was seeing now was the true male, the true creature, without the veneer of civilized conduct.

      “That is essentially correct,” he said curtly. His hand contracted again on her hair and brought her face very close to his, so that she could almost taste his clean breath in her mouth. “I have forced a change in the protocols. The mating will take place in total darkness.”

      Her senses were heightened, but the odd statement kindled her curiosity. “Doesn’t it usually?”

      “No,” he said flatly. “It is an innovation.” He couldn’t bring himself to tell her why.

      He stared down at her with mingled concern and hunger. Her taut features betrayed her fear, even as she tried to hide it from him in her mind. “You are already afraid of my eyes in the absence of light. Added to that, you will experience the violence that goes with the feline response to desire.” His voice rasped. “I cannot control it.”

      “I know that. Your eyes startle me at night. But I’m not afraid of you. Not really.”

      “You know that I will not hurt you deliberately.”

      “Of course,” she said simply.

      His hand contracted harshly. “But remember this,” he said in a harsh, alien voice. “If you bend your neck to my teeth, I will make you pay for it!”

      Her neck. If she bent her neck to his teeth. She suddenly remembered something from her biology courses. The great male cats of the human planets mated from behind. Did the Cehn-Tahr, as well?

      His face lowered and his cheek rubbed hard against hers. At the same time, he lifted her and pushed her against the stone wall, pressing her there with the weight of his powerful body. She became aware of gigantic size and strength, despite her reengineered body. The familiar commander was suddenly someone else, something else.

      “You are mine,” he whispered roughly at her ear, and pressed harder against her.

      His mouth opened on her throat, warm and feverish and exciting. She caught her breath and shivered at the sudden rush of sensation.

      He growled. The sound she made, involuntarily, sent him over the edge.

      She shivered as a wave of pleasure washed over her, dulling her senses, robbing her of resistance. It was almost familiar. It came again, violent this time, so piercing and sweet that she moaned as she felt him move against her. Her nails dug into his long back hungrily as she waited for whatever came next...

      “What are you doing?” Caneese demanded belligerently as she approached them. “You are not allowed to touch her before the bonding ceremony!”

      He was so far gone that he growled at Caneese.

      She cuffed him hard enough that the sound echoed. She growled, too. Madeline, almost mindless with her own responses, barely registered that Dtimun obeyed the older woman at once. He let go of Madeline and moved back, grasping at control and dignity.

      “It is all right,” Caneese told him gently. She touched his cheek lightly. “It is all right.”

      Madeline was getting her breath back. She was flushed. “I’m sorry,” she told Caneese. “It was my fault. I only wanted to know what was going to happen.”

      Caneese smiled at her. “There is no need to apologize. I understand.”

      “The bonding ceremony is tomorrow, anyway,” Madeline СКАЧАТЬ