Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
“Yeah, I guess so,” he rumbled. “Do you need time to get some special costumes made?”
“Commander Sylvan didn’t say but I’ll do some quick research and call Kat if I need some,” Kaitlyn told him. Kat was the costume designer for all the Cultural Ambassadors aboard the Mother Ship—she was a full-figured redhead with Twin Kindred husbands and a smart mouth. Kaitlyn liked her a lot.
“All right. Bespeak me when you’re ready to go,” he rumbled. “I’ll meet you at the Docking Bay.”
“Oh…okay.” Kaitlyn nodded.
He nodded back and turned, heading down the long corridor alone though he usually asked her if she wanted him to walk her back to her suite. Kaitlyn wondered if he was in a hurry to get packed or if he felt awkward after what had happened in Commander Sylvan’s office. But had anything happened? Or had she made it all up in her head?
She had no idea and no more time to worry about it, she decided. It was time to get packing—she had a new mission to complete.
She had no idea that things were about to get extremely complicated between herself and her Beast Kindred Protector.
2
BRAZE
What the fuck is wrong with you, staring at her like that? Braze asked himself as he walked down the corridor. You probably ‘freaked her out’ as the humans say.
But he hadn’t been able to help it—his instant lust had been an automatic reaction. It had come over him in a wave the minute Kaitlyn had made that remark about “owning” him.
Braze felt a surge of shame as he realized it was true—the idea of being Kaitlyn’s personal property, of submitting to her—had been what triggered his desire.
No, it didn’t! He tried to argue with himself. I don’t want to be fucking owned!
But still the feeling persisted and his shaft, which had gone hard as a rock when she made her little “joke” refused to go down.
Braze knew it wasn’t right for a warrior to feel this way because damn it, that was what he was—a warrior! Not a fucking bodyslave. He wasn’t just Kaitlyn’s Protector—he was also a member of the Kindred Elite Espionage Corps and a deadly assassin. He’d worked hard to hone his skills—anyone who looked at him would see a male to be reckoned with—a real male.
But a real male doesn’t want to kneel to his female, whispered a little voice in his head. A real male wants to take charge in the bed chamber—he wants to dominate—not submit!
But try as he might, Braze simply couldn’t feel that way. He couldn’t want what other males wanted—why? Why should the idea of kneeling before Kaitlyn and serving her, especially sexually, affect him on such a primal level?
Listen to yourself! growled that disgusted little voice in his head. “Why should it affect you on a primal level?” Why not just ask why the idea of kneeling to her makes your shaft harder than a fucking titano-iron spike? What the fuck is wrong with you, anyway?
Nothing—there was nothing wrong, Braze tried to assure himself. He just admired Kaitlyn, that was all. Any male would—she was a mature Elite—a woman in her middle or older years blessed by the Goddess with extra generous curves. With her curvy, Elite figure and her long silver and black hair she was fucking gorgeous. Not to mention those big, brown eyes the color of the Earth confection called “chocolate” and her full, kissable lips.
But it wasn’t just her looks that drew him—he also liked how self-possessed and confident she was. As her Protector for the past six months, he’d watched her in negotiation after negotiation, and she almost always got what she wanted. Even when she’d been dealing with those assholes, the Gorthaxians who didn’t want to bargain with her because she was female, she’d eventually gotten favorable terms for the treaty she was negotiating. Hell, by the end, she’d had the whole fucking Gorthaxian Council eating out of her pretty little hand!
To put it bluntly, Kaitlyn Prior didn’t take shit off anyone. Oh, she was sweet about getting her way, but it was the sweetness of an iron fist within a velvet glove. The curvy, mature Elite knew what she wanted, and she knew how to get it—Braze respected and admired her a hell of a lot for that.
Does she remind you of anyone? whispered the little voice in his head. Maybe Mistress Lovelyone?
Braze tried to push the thought out of his mind, but it wouldn’t go. All these desires he had, these urges that were so wrong and unmanly—they all stemmed from his time on Yonnie Six with Mistress Lovelyone all those years ago.
He’d been so young—barely nineteen when he and his friend, Zarix, had been captured by slavers and sold at the Flesh Bazaar. Braze had never even been with a female before, since women were in short supply on his home world of Rageron. Mistress Lovelyone had been his first sexual experience—she had bought him and Zarix both and trained them to serve a female in every possible way. Even now, so many years later, he could still hear her voice in his head…