The Princess of the Wild (The Royals of Adriel Book 2) Read online

  “See you,” he urged, meaning that she should take off her robe.

  She began backing away from him, toward the door. She slowly slid her hand into her pocket and found the handle ...

  Stra Akka became irritated, angry with her resistance. He began coming near her, to grab her. As his hand touched her, she drew the knife out from her pocket and wildly struck down at him. The result was immediate. He cried out shrilly and stumbled backward, falling to the floor. She shrieked, seeing the gush of purplish blood that came from him, much of his member disengaged from him, lying near her feet on the floor.

  Horrified, Skye dropped the knife. In her panic she snatched up his robe and found the door remote in the pocket. He was gasping and cursing, trying to reach for her ... She unlocked the door. She flew through the open doorway and did not look back ...

  Nicholas couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw the hysterical girl running down the hall toward him. He caught her arms, stopping her short while she tried to rush by him. She saw his face and realized that he was he.

  Skye couldn’t believe her eyes, either. She had a rush of incredible relief, seeing his familiar face.

  “What happened?” he rasped.

  She couldn’t make coherent speech. “He! I! Help! No!”

  He flopped her hood down onto her head. “Come with me.”

  He grasped her hand, leading her down the hall. “Calm yourself, until we’re out,” he warned. “Running will alert them. Walk behind me, slow and easy.”

  She did as she was told, concealing her panic and her gratitude. She appeared composed while they passed by two white-robed Trobins who didn’t give them a single glance. She followed him through the quiet maze until they stopped at a door that opened into a vast dome. The noise assaulted them, simplifying her escape while they walked on, becoming lost in the ambiguity of the crowd.

  Skye trailed behind him, her bare feet beginning to ache from the length of the walk. She remained silent as they entered the elevator pod with several other Humans and Trobins, and she soon felt its rise upward. It opened into a docking bay. With forced calm, they walked to his starship where he ushered her aboard, into the bridge. He motioned for her to sit in the passenger seat, and he strapped her within the crisscrossing belts, and then took the helm. He tossed the Trobin hood back off of his head, and she did the same to her own. He used his quick, deft fingers to bring power to the engines.

  “What have I gotten myself into,” he muttered wryly to himself, while he strapped himself in, and then brought the ship up into flight.

  Skye tried to catch her breath as she saw—out the side port—the brown Trobin globe becoming smaller and smaller in the distance. At last, she was safe ... She leaned back against the headrest, overwhelmed.

  Nicholas saw the relief on her lovely profile. He had a million questions for her, but he’d start with the easiest. “What happened back there?”

  Skye felt her fear once more. “A Trobin—Stra Akka. He tried ... he tried to ... I cut him ... I think I killed him ...”

  “Did you say ‘Stra Akka’?”

  She nodded.

  “You killed Stra Akka?”

  “I think so.”

  His fingers worked the helm panel with a sudden urgency. “Stra Akka is one of Queen Te Sa Narr’s top advisors! We’re in trouble ...”

  “Oh!” she breathed. “But, he—”

  “Madame, I think it best that you don’t distract me right now. We could have company real soon.”

  Skye fell silent and became smaller in her chair. He diligently monitored the tail of his spacecraft, expecting a rapid Trobin assault from a fighter ship. As time passed, it seemed as though they weren’t being pursued, but he still wouldn’t let down his guard. She was impressed by his skill at maneuvering a starship, glad that he controlled the helm.

  When they reached the wormhole, he didn’t wait in line like the other ships, he instead circled around until they all had their passage through. Then he made a straight shot for there.

  Skye gasped as they entered the gateway, blinded by the flashing of the brilliant lights.

  Chapter 5

  Skye opened her eyes when the turbulence quit and blinked to clear her vision. The stars were bright and clear against the black, the spacecraft now traveling at a slower speed. She glanced beside her and saw Nick working the panel, his manly hands laying in coordinates as he gave the ship over to automated control. As if confident that he had eluded any possible pursuers, he undid his belts and rose from his chair, giving her his full attention. He stood akimbo, staring down on her with a partly curious, partly angry expression on his handsome face.

  “All right,” he said, brusquely. “Who are you?”

  Skye felt the power of his presence so near to her and was gripped by the magnetism. She recalled how just hours ago he had touched her, showing her an ecstasy she hadn’t known existed. His large hands and firm tongue had been hot upon her, exploring her ... He had kissed her in a place never before known ... he had been within her ... She tried to stop her invasive thoughts, but the memory was so vivid that she was experiencing a hint of the sensations now. Powerless, she felt the heat rising to her cheeks ...

  “Who are you?” he repeated, demanding answers.

  Skye caught her wits and found her voice. “I’m Skye ... Skye Williams.”

  “Skye Williams.” He tested the name on his tongue, relaxing somewhat. “That’s a pretty name, for a pretty woman.” His dark eyes weighed her, calculatingly. “So Miss Skye, how did it come to be that you killed Stra Akka?”

  Skye worked to compose her thoughts. “I ... He ... he brought me to his room. I ... I wouldn’t let him ... he ...”

  Nicholas saw the struggle on her beautiful face, and his anger faded. Whatever had happened, she had been through a harrowing experience. “I think you’d best start at the beginning,” he said softly. “Take your time.”

  He touched the panel on her chair, making her seat belts slide away. He moved into the open area of the craft and motioned for her to follow. She did, glancing around. This was a small two-crew spacecraft, having a day-night nook, a bath, and a galley. It suddenly seemed very cramped. She was alone with this man ...

  His hand offered her the black lounge that ran the length of a wall, and she sat down on it. He moved to the galley.

  “Do you like coffee?” he asked politely. “Good and hot ...”

  “Yes,” she replied timidly.

  “Cream ... sugar ...”

  She shook her head.

  With a touch of a button on a dispenser counter, he filled one cup and then another. He came near and sat down next to her, giving her a steaming mug. Hesitantly, she took a sip of the hot, nutty brew. He took a sip from his, sitting there quietly ... and the silence lengthened, fraying on her already tattered nerves. She could find no words to say.

  He broke the quiet. “Why were you there on Kan?”

  Skye knew that he also thought about what had happened there, and felt a new heat coming to her cheeks. Her hands began to tremble, and she set her mug down on the end table beside her, lest she embarrass herself further. He watched her, his gaze intent on her profile. He reached out and drew a tangled red-gold tress off from her brow, and the unsettling power of his touch made her shrink away.

  Nicholas moved his hand away from her. He ran the feel of her presence by his instincts ... This wasn’t a shrewd, scheming thief—this was a scared and confused girl. He was nearly overwhelmed with an urge to protect her, to hold her and take away her fears, and give her a comfort she had never before known. She was clearly exhausted—completely disheveled—her softly tangled hair partially spilling out from the black Trobin robe, and he had a spectacular vision of her being naked beneath it. Her eyelids—with those long black lashes—were heavy, and there were faint dark patches beneath her eyes, making her look vulnerable in her fatigue. A blush reddened her high ivory cheeks, and he supposed that was due to her thinking about when he had taken her. She shut
her eyes tightly, pressing her fingers to her temples as if trying to ward off an ache in her head.

  This wasn’t a harlot—at least, not a willing one. He had been the first man she had ever known, and he had a glorious satisfaction from that, though he wondered why he should. He recalled the sensuous feel of her beneath him, and how he had tasted of her sweetness, and against his will, his desire began to stir. Wholeheartedly, he wanted to lay her down and do it all again to her—and more—but his mother had taught him to respect women—at least, those who deserved it. He knew, from his instincts, that this one did. He didn’t know who she was or what had happened to her, but the solving of this mystery would have to wait. No, she wasn’t a prostitute, but he would have to take his disappointment in stride and listen to the annoying wisdom of his blasted conscience.

  “You know what?” he said, rising slowly to his feet. “You’re tired—I’m tired. Let’s get some rest, and we'll talk about this later.”

  Skye agreed. She could hardly keep her eyes open. The events of this day had been so contradictory that her emotion was all twisted up within her, leaving her spent.

  He moved off to the bath for a moment and returned with a large royal-blue nightshirt, which he offered to her.

  “This will be more comfortable,” he urged.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, taking it from him and going off to the bath to change.

  As she disrobed, in the mirror she saw her wide violet-blue eyes and her anxiety within them. She wondered about the sleeping arrangements, if he would try to have her again. Did she want him to? Who was this man? Nick Christian—is that what he had said his name was? She didn’t know anything about him, except that he appeared to be a bit of a rogue. But she knew his touch ... his mystical touch ...

  She had thought that she would never see him again, but here he was. He had rescued her from the Trobins, and she would be eternally grateful for that. He must have followed her to Strou, perhaps to retrieve his travel bag. But, how had he known where to find her? And why had he come to her cell on Kan? Had the Kalcoons sold her to him, like a prostitute? Did he still expect payment? No matter if he did, she was free from the Kalcoons and the Trobins, and she soon would be free from him. She was her own, again.

  The relief she had was replaced with a sudden despair. Her father was gone. What was she to do now?

  Skye decided that she was too tired to care about her future, or even her past. She retracted that thought, however, when she saw him standing there by the bed, wearing only his dark leggings. His bare, tanned breast and muscular arms brought a threat to her balance, and his charming smile furthered her precariousness. His dark gaze brightened on her, traveling down her, appreciating how his royal-blue nightshirt clung gently to her curves. It covered her well, reaching to her calves, with the sleeves midway down her forearms, but her quick glance down saw how the tips of her breasts were straining vulgarly against the soft cloth. He tore his gaze away and shook his head, as if to clear his senses.

  “Ummm ... you take the bed,” he offered quite grudgingly, moving away from it. “I’ll take the lounge.”

  Knowing an odd mixture of relief and disappointment, she moved to the large bed that filled a nook in the aft of the craft and saw that he had drawn back the covers for her. She turned to thank him, but he had already left her for the bath.

  She crawled into the downy softness and settled in. The last thought she had—before her exhaustion overtook her—was of how natural it had felt when she had lain beneath him, his cheek against hers as he cradled her head in his arms.

  ***

  Skye woke, unsure if yesterday had been just a dream, or not. She saw the continual darkness of space beyond the windows that lined three sides of the bed, and knew that it had been real. She wondered of the hour, about how long she had slept. She felt rested and alert. She lie there a moment, discovering that she hadn’t felt this way—more like herself—since before the Kalcoons had drugged her. She had her wits about her again and she would need them, being alone in life without her father.

  “Mornin’, Sleeping Beauty.”

  She turned to see Nick standing at the nook’s entrance, smiling a cheerful greeting down on her. She was amazed again by how handsome he was, with his tall and rugged frame, and the perfect contours of his face. He was freshly showered, his dark shoulder-length locks fluffed—appearing even blacker than before—and he wore a long-sleeved, ivory-hued shirt and dark-blue leggings, looking very refined. He was an impressive man ... but he was not the blue-eyed, blond-haired man of her dreams.

  “Feeling better?” he asked.

  She nodded and rose from the bed. Seeing his amused expression, she suddenly became aware of her appearance. She shyly ran her hand through her hair, which was but a bevy of soft tangles.

  “Methinks you need a shower,” he teased, pulling gently on a tousled tress.

  His hand lingered there on her cheek, and her heart began to race. They were much too close to the bed ...

  He sighed and drew away, moving from her. “I took the liberty of choosing a shirt for you,” he said, over his shoulder. “Sorry, but I’ve only my clothes aboard. I think you’ll find all that you need on the counter in the bath.”

  Skye took his advice and went off to the bath. When in the shower, she stood beneath the hot and soapy, soothing jets of water, and then rinsed off and stepped out to the hot air drier on the wall, to fix her sodden hair. The clothes he had left out for her were far too large, but she suspected that these were the smallest he had. The black long-sleeved shirt was soft and without buttons, and sufficed when she drew back the cuffs. The white leggings, a pair that would reach to his knee, reached down the better part of her calf; she adjusted the belt to fit her waist. She brushed her dry red-gold hair into a silky sheen and left it free, finding no tie. She peered at her violet-blue eyes and found them to be bright and sparkling, and then she was ready to brave her day.

  Nicholas nodded to himself when he saw her, her hair glossy and lovely and flowing down past her waist, her violet-blue eyes exquisite. She surely was a beauty ... She looked at him like she wondered what to do next. He regained his wits and made her a mug of coffee, and brought it to her.

  Skye noticed the nook. With a touch of a button he had changed the space from the bed to what was now a table between two benches. She slid onto a bench, and he set her mug down on the tabletop.

  “Do you like eggs and pancakes?” he asked.

  Skye nodded, quite eagerly. She realized that she hadn’t eaten anything substantial since her lunch at Lodestar College—aside from a few tidbits of strange-tasting meat the Kalcoons had given her. She hadn’t eaten for days. Her belly rumbled as if giving her a greeting, glad that she had noticed.

  He brought her the heaping plates.

  “Enjoy,” he said. “I’ve eaten already ... been up for hours ...”

  She started in on her meal, finding a ravenous appetite, but she was careful not to devour it like an animal, aware of his scrutiny. He watched her without appearing to, pacing slowly around the room, pausing at the entertainment console by the lounge, looking for a computer card or a game to occupy his time, but thought better of it, and paced again. When her hunger was satisfied, he returned to the table, to clear the empty plates.

  “More?” he asked.

  She shook her head, completely sated.

  After he dropped her plates into the disposal chute, he returned to stand before her, his mood growing serious. He soberly met her eyes, wanting his answers.

  “Okay. You said that you killed Stra Akka. Was he the one who took you from the brothel?”

  “The brothel!” she breathed. “So that is what it was!”

  “Yes, it was. Any idea how you got there?”

  Skye decided to trust him with her personal grief. He seemed kind ... He was easy to talk to—if she could just get the words out ... and ignore his breathtaking presence ...

  “I had left the school to go see my father. He ... was k
illed ... I saw him in a laser battle with someone ...”

  Nicholas’ eyes widened. This girl was in worse shape than he first had thought. “You saw your father killed?”

  “No, I didn’t see it—I didn’t see who he was fighting with. I just know he’s ... gone. I was running for help, and two Kalcoons grabbed me. I woke up on a cargo ship. They drugged me to keep me quiet.”

  “They drugged you,” he said flatly.

  That would explain her lack of resistance to him having her, Nicholas thought. He remembered back and realized that she did try to struggle, but he had thought she was an adventurous whore wanting some brutal action. He had taken an innocent—a little schoolgirl! But, he couldn’t have known ...

  “How old are you?” he asked quickly.

  “Eighteen,” she replied, with a lift of her chin.

  He breathed a sigh of relief. At least she was of age ...

  “A cargo ship, you say. What was their cargo?”

  “People,” she said simply.

  “People?”

  “Yes. There were twenty, or so, other girls besides me. And there were even more on the Trobin ship.”

  Nicholas took it all in a moment, and then he asked: “What did Stra Akka want of you?”

  Skye thought about how it was the same thing that this man had taken from her. “He ... he tried to ...” she stammered.

  The blush flooding her high cheeks gave him his answer.

  He cursed and sprang up and began to pace. Her wide eyes followed his erratic saunter, his countenance telling of his deep thought, and then he finally paused, and considered her. “You might just have saved many lives,” he informed.

  “What?” she murmured, confused.

  “I have to make a call,” he said, and went off to the bridge, locking the door behind him.

  Skye was left to wonder in the hour, or so, that he was gone. She was staring unseeingly out the port when he returned. She rose and approached him, having her own questions.

  “What do you mean, that I might have saved many lives?”