Chapter 28
Wrexxon
Ignashed my teeth as I made my way into the bowels of the warbird, swinging from steel railings and leaping from one floating platform to another.
What was I doing trekking down to the innards of the vessel when I should be with my officers discussing the strategy involved with extracting the rebel governor?
I’d never been summoned by the ship’s tailor before, although I suppose this was what I got for requesting a wardrobe for a human female when he was accustomed to fashioning battle kilts and body armor.
Not that I would mind seeing Jasmine in a battle kilt.
The thought of her shapely legs peeking between the straps of animal hide spurred my heartbeat.
The idea of her going bare chested, like Vandar warriors did, made my cock twitch restlessly to life.
“Tvek me.” I pushed down my cock with one forearm, as I raced across an open-air metal bridge that swayed in reaction to my speed.
I still held my tablet in one hand, since I’d been summoned while being briefed by my battle chief about the upcoming missions.
The new target list from the encrypted communication still glowed on my screen.
That reminder, and the knowledge that it came from a spy risking their life to provide us information, was enough to douse any desire.
Reaching the level that housed the kitchens, the supply rooms, and many of the skilled workers who kept the warbird humming, I quickly found the room dedicated to our tailor.
It had been a long time since I’d last visited, but I had known Skaz since long before he’d joined my horde.
He had been the one to fashion kilts on my father’s ship, and the two had shared many a drink over many years.
It was one of the reasons he’d agreed to join my crew when he could have enjoyed an easier life in a hidden Vandar colony.
“What’s this about you needing me?” I entered the room without slowing my pace, but as soon as I spotted Jasmine on the raised platform, I stopped short.
She no longer wore the flour crusted dress she’d had on since I’d first seen her in the bakery. Instead, a length of shimmery blue fabric was wrapped around her body, and she kept it from slipping with one hand pressed to her chest.
When I stormed in, she yelped, her hand jerking and the fabric almost slipping from her grasp. “What are you—?”
“I was told to come,” I said before she could finish her question.
Skaz tapped his heels together in salute even though he was years beyond the age of my warriors. “Thank you for joining us. Your bride wanted you to decide on the fabric for her Raisa gown.”
My gaze was riveted to Jasmine and the tight peaks of her breasts visible through the thin fabric. It was all I could do not to cross to her and tear it from her body. I forced myself to finally look at the fabric. “Me?”
“She wants the dress she wears to please you.”
I honed in on his words, and something about them felt off.
She wanted me to pick a fabric? She wanted to dress to please me?
Jasmine might have spread her legs for me, she might have begged for me to fuck her, but there was no part of me that believed the woman who was comfortable in a dingy, shapeless dress was suddenly interested in fabric.
Or that a woman who ran an underground resistance cared what I thought about it.
I set my tablet down on a nearby worktable strewn with thread, scraps of tanned leather, and razor-sharp scissors. I slid my gaze to Skaz. “Why don’t you leave us for a moment to discuss it?”
The Vandar didn’t hesitate, ducking out the door and letting it glide shut behind him.
I braced my feet wide and leveled my eyes at Jasmine. “Now you can tell me why I’m really here.”
“I really am having a dress made for the Raisa ceremony,” she spluttered.
“I know. I ordered it done.”
She matched my defiant stance. “You could have told me we were going to have a ceremony, and that it was going to happen soon.”
I blew out a hot breath. I did not have time for this. Not when we were about to launch another rescue mission. “I told you that you were my war bride. What did you think that meant? That there would be nothing to officially bind you to me?”
She hitched her bare shoulders. “I don’t know. I’ve never been a war bride before. You said something about only becoming a Raisa if the match was true.”
“You think what I said when I was inside you was a lie?” I made my voice a velvet purr as I advanced on her. “Were the promises you made when I was fucking you untrue?”
A flush mottled her cheeks. “No, but…”
“Then what is untrue? I told you I would conquer you. I told you that you would beg for me. I told you I was a villain. Now I am telling you that I wish you to be my Raisa, my queen, my mate for life.”
A squeak escaped from her lips before she found a shred of her voice. “Why me? Just because my name was on a list?”
I shook my head slowly. “You might have been a war bride I kept in separate quarters, or you might have been one I fucked occasionally for release, but I know now that was never to have been your fate, little rebel. A female fierce enough to challenge me? To attempt to resist me? You were always meant to be mine, Jasmine.”
This stole the last words from her mouth, and her fingers went slack, the fabric slipping farther down.
My gaze lingered on her bare shoulders. “You know I’ve killed for less serious offense than another Vandar seeing my mate unclothed.”
A nervous laugh bubbled from her lips, and her brows knitted together. “You mean Skaz? He didn’t see me unclothed, and isn’t he old enough to be your grandfather?”
I grunted, scowling at the fabric barely covering her. “If you truly want my opinion, you cannot wear a dress made of that.”
She dropped her chin to peer at the measure of fabric. “Why not? It’s gorgeous.”
I closed the distance between us, hooked one arm around her waist, and lifted her down from the platform.
Then she was standing in front of me, I brushed a hand over one draped breast, and the skin pebbled beneath my touch.
“Because what I can’t see clearly, I can imagine.
Every Vandar watching you will want to fuck you as much as I want to fuck you right now. ”
She inhaled quickly, her chest heaving. I spun her around, cupping her breasts in my hands as I curled my body over hers and nipped the back of her neck. She released a throaty sigh as I tugged the fabric down to expose the top half of her body.
“Wrexxon,” she said in some form of weak protest that only fired my blood more.
I bent her over and she caught herself on the worktable, splaying both hands on the metal surface as I kissed my way down her back while my tail twitched its way up the inside of her leg.
It was madness to take her here, in the tailor’s workroom, but the woman drove me mad.
All thoughts of the Vandar waiting to return to his workspace or other Vandar who might be walking in the corridor fled my mind, and all I knew was the thrumming, pounding need to be inside her again.
“Wrexxon,” she said, but this time there was no lilt in her voice. “Why is my best friend’s name on this list?”