Dread Lord Delgen thinks I’m his space order bride, a rich Earthen socialite whose credits will save his people. Only I’m not—I’m the imposter sent to kill him.
Which should be easy, since he’s a scary bloodsucking warrior hiding the truth about my sister’s death. It’s not easy to keep my distance—the matebond has taken us both. My will is wavering, but if I tell him the truth, will he kill me or let me go?
Even worse, will he keep me and marry his true bride instead?
His Enemy Wife is a steamy sci fi romance, 2nd in the Khuldun Warriors series. Enemies to lovers, fated mates, protective, growly warriors, Big Secrets, all the good stuff.
EXCERPT. . .
But then his eyes glint again, and he smiles at me, displaying a gleaming fang and I remember that maybe he’s being nice now, but that’s only because he doesn’t know I’m a threat. That could change on a dime.
Doubts plague me. I’ve got to figure out a way out of this situation, and I don’t know if there is a way.
“I’m fine,” I say, answering his unspoken question. “I was just thinking for a few minutes.”
“Oh, you have no idea.”
His gaze sharpens, maybe he hears the thread of somber truth in my voice. But then he shakes his head, backing away another step.
“So I guess asking nicely didn’t have the effect I was told it would,” he says, then gives me a mean slash of a smile. “Strip, female.”
I snort. But I kick off my shoes and begin stripping out of my clothing.
He holds up a hand, brows drawing together. “Slower, Livia. Slower.”
“You’re in a mood.”
“I am, indeed, in a mood. Slower.”
I know about pacing, even if I’m not exactly a natural flirt. I hold his gaze and slow my movements, grasping the bottom toggle of my shirt and slowly working my way up the column. But even though I’m unbuttoning, I maneuver it so that the fabric doesn’t gape, and as I undo the final toggle on the high collar, I turn. Only then do I let it slide down my shoulders, down my arms, then fall to the floor.
He doesn’t have to tell me to remove the breastband. I peel that away as well, but still all he’s able to see is my naked back, my long braid obscuring the center of my spine.
I hear a subtle inhalation though, so what he’s seeing he must like. Either that, or he has a really vivid imagination.
I unbutton my pants, and glancing over my shoulder with a tiny smile, I slowly push them down my hips. Now the inhalation of breath is a soft growl. I kick the pants away, ignoring my panties—and bend.
“Fuck,” he swears.
I don’t actually need to bend all the way down in order to take off my socks, but the view is much better this way. I spread my ankles just a little, taking my time with one sock and then the other.
“The panties,” he orders, his voice deep, guttural.
I begin to straighten, and he snarls.
Mmkay. I guess we’re not using our words any more.
I smile smugly, and still bent over, hook my thumbs in the waistband of my panties and pull them down over my buttocks to my ankles. I spread my feet just a little wider so he gets a nice, generous view of the flesh between my thighs.
And because I’m an extra nasty wench, I reach behind me and grasp my cheeks and spread them for good measure.
He groans, and there is a change in the air behind me. I glance over my shoulder and see that he moved closer to me. Close enough that with another step, he can take that monster of his and slam it home if he really wants to.
I’m so aroused that at this point I probably wouldn’t say anything.
Maybe I should accidentally trip.
“You mentioned something about touching?” he growls.
I laugh, then straighten up, turning. There’s nothing like that dark, hungry look in a man’s eyes to give a girl confidence.
I bite my bottom lip, lowering my gaze to Mr. Monster—then step around him, sauntering towards the pool.
“How do I get in this thing without accidentally drowning myself? I don’t see stairs.”
A second later Delgen dives into the pool with a smooth splash. Then he turns, rears up and grabs me around the waist as I squeal, pulling me after him.
I splutter, pushing sopping hair out of my face and glare at him as he laughs.
A laugh that cuts off abruptly because his monster is pressed against my belly and I’m not squirming to get away.
What? I’m not a dummy.
But still. . . I arch an eyebrow. “Your buddy is behaving like you took me out on a date.”
He narrows his gaze, regarding me thoughtfully. “You eat at my table every evening. Does that not count?”
“Do I really have to dignify that question with a response?”
He gives me his smug version of his mocking smile. He has so many versions of his mocking smile, I bet he practices in the mirror. “Like any female, you want me to court you. I thought you might like a few days to become acclimated to your new home.”
“Yeah, no. Nice try, but no bueno. There will be no nookie until I get a bit of restaurant cookie.”
I figure the translator is having a hard time with that, but his expression clears, and he shakes his head. I guess he’s got the gist of it.
“Females. They want meat and jewels and blood, and their enemies bound and gagged and laid at their feet just to grant a male a kiss.”
I blink. I’m all for the enemies bound and gagged and laying at my feet thing. Maybe there are, like, parts of the Khuldunian culture I can get with after all.
“Wouldst thou at least grant me a kiss, lovely one? I fair ache for thee, my mouth and my cock yearn to sup of thy flesh.”
Ooohhh, unfair. I almost swoon. The translator expertly converts the archaic dialect into a Standard I understand, syntax and connotation. He’s trying to sound courtly and romantic. Who knew Delgen could wield a knight-in-shining bedroom voice? That thing should be illegal. It rubs up and down my spine like fur and satin and rivers of warm honey.
But I don’t trust him one bit. “A kiss where?”
His sly smile tells me everything I need to know. Am I going to turn him down because we haven’t actually gone on a date?
I mean, there’s that little thing about having to murder him in his sleep—
I shove that thought aside and focus on the here and now, nodding vigorously, my eyes wide.
Holding my gaze, Delgen wraps his strong hands around my waist and hoists me up effortlessly, sitting me on the edge of the ledge. I giggle nervously, and not only because I rhyme. A thrill travels down my spine at even more evidence of his strength. I’m no featherweight, but he picks me up with just the power of his biceps as if I’m no heavier than a solid toddler.
“I’m in trouble,” I mutter.
He gives me a smooth, masculine smile. “Yes, little human, you are.”
He slides his hands down my thighs, pausing on my knees as he lowers his gaze, his eyes glowing faintly as he drinks in my breasts.
I’ve never met a man who wasn’t a sucker for a good pair of tits. I lean back on my hands, giving him my own version of a malicious smile, arching my back so my breasts are all but poking him in the eye.
Especially since he’s crowded me all of a sudden, and is lowering his head into my cleavage. His tongue darts out, and wet heat latches onto a nipple. I moan, my eyes fluttering closed. Damn me if he doesn’t know what he’s doing.
“I bet you’re the type of man who would steal his own baby’s milk,” I murmur.
I feel him stiffen and open my eyes, squeaking and jerking away because his eyes are an inferno.
“Did I say something wrong?” What set him off?
But then he just lowers down my body, placing a gentle kiss on my stomach. Oh.
He’s one of those. The kind who goes all squiggly at the thought of his little woman barefoot and pregnant. My heart sinks a little because even though we haven’t really discussed children and halting the contraceptive I’m on, I know he wants and expects them. It wasn’t an issue I was expecting to have to deal with, after all, we’ll both be dead before we have a chance to co-plan a pregnancy. Or so I thought.
But maybe he’s been planning on starting a family a lot sooner.
This time I stiffen, because that adds a whole new level of oh shiggidy to our situation.
“I would very much like to see my milkling suckle at your breasts,” he says in a low voice, not looking at me, still pressing soft kisses on my belly. “You have had two doses of the serum, yes?”
“Yes,” I squeak.
I had, under supervision of a medical officer commissioned by him, because human women can’t conceive Khuldunian babies without fertility technology. Part of the contract with Livia Dumas was that she eventually provide him with little Delgens. So even though I’d been given the green light to continue basic contraception, I’ve still undergone those fertility treatments. There had been no way around it.
If he makes me stop my contraceptive, I can be pregnant within a month.
He looks up at me, gaze keen. “Livia? Would you be adverse to a milkling so soon?”