Amy Redwood: Alien Best Man

Order him away, send him on a mission, I don’t care. Just send him away.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible. He’s above my command.” Qay pulled me from the chair into his arms. I wanted to push him away, but his embrace felt too good, too comforting, and his hands started wandering over my body, so gently, so calmly.

I licked my suddenly dry lips. “The book…what about the best man is taken to be literal?”

“Do you trust me?”

I hesitated, acknowledging that my trust in him wasn’t absolute anymore. But I did love him. The weeks with him had shown me a man worthy of every woman’s love. He was intelligent and respectful and gentle, and he made me laugh. “I do love you so much. But I wish you hadn’t kept that from me.” I shook my head, stealing a glance at the curtain. He was there, just a thin fabric away. “Why, Qay, why not tell me?”

“Would you have come to my home if I had?” Qay asked. “Please, don’t let fear stand in the way of our happiness. Give us a chance.”

“Us?” I asked, fearing the answer.

“Us three.”

“There’s no us if it involves him .” Zyn shouldered through the curtain into the room.

“I don’t want your gift,” I said, but it sounded like a challenge and I wished I had kept my mouth shut.

“You already accepted it, but I’ll keep her for you.” His chest muscles moved as he poured himself a drink, not wine, but a clear liquid from a glass flask. His movement was as graceful as that of the large cat. When he pulled up a chair, I backed away from the table. The cat jumped from the bed to settle at his feet as if he’d told her to.

I suddenly remembered Kyra’s words of caution. I wasn’t on Earth anymore. I had no rights whatsoever on Dezra. Who would stop Zyn from doing whatever he wanted with me? No one.

“Jana,” Qay said. “Say the word and I’ll call Kyra and she’ll take you back to Earth.”

His words relaxed the tight knot in my stomach.

Then I made the mistake of seeking out Zyn’s gaze. The expression in his eyes spoke volumes. Ever so slightly, he shook his head, looking positively evil. He wouldn’t let me go. He had me where he had wanted me all along. On Dezra, stripped of all my authority and rights. But I believed Qay, believed him with everything I held dear. I wouldn’t give him up, I wouldn’t.

Even if I had to face Zyn.

“What happens during our second night?” I looked at Qay, steeling myself. “What role does he play?”

“He will witness our joining.”

My stomach bottomed out and I grew faint. “What else? Anything else you should tell me? Because I can’t stand any more surprises tonight.” I thought I heard Zyn chuckle but didn’t dare look at him.

Qay paced the room, looking every bit as restless as I felt inside. He settled on the edge of the bed, working his hand through his hair as if buying himself more time. “It is the best man’s right to prepare the bride for her husband.”

“Let’s get another best man then,” I said quickly, mentally crossing my fingers.

“As the king,” Qay said quietly, “he has the right to demand to be the best man at any wedding on Dezra. Not that he’s ever insisted on this right. But for my wedding, there’s no other option. It is trad—”

“Yes, I know,” I snapped, getting irritated. “It’s tradition . Will he touch me though?”

“Do you want me to?” Zyn said before Qay could answer. When I shook my head, he grinned and said, “But I’ll touch you anyway, everywhere.” There was a small thrill running through me at his words, and I stepped in front of Zyn, between his legs as he sat on the chair, trying to ignore that I had to share this space with the cat resting there. His brows lifted as if caught by surprise by my sudden bold move.

“Strip the dress off me.” I spoke it as a command, feeling that if I took control, I wouldn’t feel as helpless. “Do whatever tradition demands.” I was aware that I was fooling myself, using tradition as an excuse for giving in, but it was this or admitting that I wanted Zyn to touch me, dominate me. And I wasn’t ready to admit to that, because it would mean I’d learned nothing from the mistake in my past.

He rose, and I didn’t flinch away, not even when he stepped so close his thighs brushed against mine. I had to tip my head back to meet his gaze, to watch the expression in his eyes change from amused to cool, as if he didn’t like me taking control. Leaning forward, he rested his cheek against mine, as a lover might do to whisper sweet nothings. “I will tame you,” he said so quietly only I could hear. “I’ll have you on your knees, on a leash, just like the cat I gave you. And you cannot run from me. I’ll never let you go again.”

I jerked my head back, stared into the depths of his eyes as he closed his hands around my shoulders. He brushed the shoulder straps of my dress down my arms, and then turned me around. His breath warm against my bare neck, he found the small buttons holding my dress together. I felt him reaching out to me with his thoughts. The dress fell to my feet and a wave of warmth enveloped me, like an embrace. It was strangely pleasant.

“Open your eyes,” he said, and I did, hadn’t even noticed that I’d closed them.

He knelt in front of me and I lifted each foot when he grasped my ankles to take off the flat shoes. I crossed my arms in front of my chest because I was naked except for the flimsy excuse of fabric that was my panties. When he rose to his feet, the tip of his nose brushed over my mound, my belly, and he breathed in deeply, as if he was trying to inhale the scent of my cunt.

When he leaned forward, as if to kiss me, I turned my head.

Zyn lowered himself to his knees again, pulling my panties down at the same time.

The sight of him kneeling in front of me was odd, felt wrong, but I couldn’t say why. I almost grabbed him by the shoulders to pull him up again. My breath came in hard, fast gasps as he settled his hand around my hip. “I will touch you now.”

Before I had a chance to think about what he meant, he had cupped me in his palm.

He pressed his hand against my clit, slipped a finger inside me. He looked up, revealing sharp canines as he grinned. It made me feel like prey.

“You’re wet,” he said, moving his finger ever so slowly in and out of me. “You like what I do, don’t you?”

“Qa- ay .” I heard the panic in my own voice. “Are you sure it’s tradition that he, he—” I broke off, wondering if the best man was really allowed to make the bride almost come with his touch.

“He will prepare you for me,” Qay answered, his eyes slightly hooded, his voice rough from arousal, “in every sense of the word. It is his right. And it is your right to take pleasure in it.”

Zyn moved his hand between my legs while his dark gaze rested on my face. The onslaught of sensation was so strong, the hand between my legs so skilled, I wasn’t sure how to fight the waves of arousal anymore. The emotions he stirred inside me didn’t even remotely resemble a level of arousal I considered normal. Uncontrolled, a moan escaped me. Whatever he thought he needed to prepare, I wasn’t sure what more it was. I was drenched, my juices covered his palm.

Abruptly, he pulled his hand back, leaving me to stagger after him. Zyn took my hand, walked me to Qay. “Your bride is ready.” He added words in the high language, too fast for me to understand and spoken with an unnatural rasp to his voice. Whatever he’d said, it seemed to please Qay.

Qay rose from the bed and Zyn took off Qay’s vest to bare his upper body.

I held my breath, watching how he continued to undress Qay. He did it with sure, quick movements, not the slow, caressing touch he’d used undressing me. Yet, as he untied Qay’s pants and pulled them over his hips, there was a subtle sensuality between them that drew me in.