a
thrusting rhythm in time with his probing fingers and her arching hips. His
free hand gripped the hair at Katelyn's nape, capturing her against him and
assaulting her with sensations.
The air around them prickled with energy, and Katelyn's entire awareness
spiraled tighter and tighter until she knew her body could take no more.
The soft scrape of Grayson's tunic against her engorged nipples, and his
rough hand pounding against her swollen labia, fed into the pool of
sensations flowing through her until she shattered.
Pleasure and raw energy pulsed through her, singeing along every nerve
ending and making her cry out. Distantly she was aware that Grayson had
stiffened against her, the vibrations of his low groan rumbling through her
to join with the other sensations washing over her.
The scrape of a shoe made them both stiffen, and Katelyn's eyes flew open
to see a man with Grayson's coloring and height staring at them—his
expression showing both surprise and hunger.
"My apologies. I was looking for Alyssandra. I'll leave you two alone." He
turned and disappeared through the doorway.
Mortification threatened to swallow Katelyn whole. She closed her eyes,
refusing to look at Grayson. "I just met the king, didn't I?"
6
Aedan sipped his bitter coffee as he scanned the dingy diner. It seemed
almost a cliché place to wait for his informant, but cliché meant it had been
used before—successfully.
The wallpaper was aged and yellowed, giving no clue as to the original
color. Booths with cracked vinyl tops sat in neat rows, while a boredlooking waitress popped her gum and took orders at snail speed. The smell
of old, burned grease permeated everything, and Aedan knew his clothes
would reek of it.
Six other diners had chosen to overlook the ragged appearance of the place
and gamble with their health to order food.
Aedan shook his head at the stupidity of humans.
He had arrived an hour earlier to ensure there were no non-humans here—
especially the Klatch royal guards. If they found out the identity of his
informant, months of careful work and planning would be ruined in an
instant. Apparently, the man had a network of spies in place back on
Klatch, and Aedan planned to use them all to the fullest.
Failure wasn't an option.
Sela had made that abundantly clear, and he was still healing from that
"discussion." He reached to touch the goose egg on the back of his head
where he'd hit the wall, and winced when pain lanced through him like
lightning.
Hot anger flowed through his veins, and he ground his teeth. Sela was a
beautiful and very dangerous woman—one he had hoped to tame. Her
rebuke had been a cold awakening of just how far he still had to go toward
that goal.
There had never been a king of the Cunts, but Aedan planned to change
that. Sela had kept a figurehead "husband" in place only to help keep an
eye on Alyssa until the time for her coming of age was near. When the false
ascension plan failed, Sela had wasted no time killing the man.
Aedan planned on being much more than a figurehead. He was Sela's
match in every way—and she would soon realize it when he thwarted the
Klatch's plans for the triangle. Then he would rule, at Sela's side, and both
Tador and Earth would be his.
The bells over the door jingled, signaling the arrival of Aedan's
informant—he hadn't bothered to learn his name, which had seemed to
give the man a false sense of security.
The man had the same dark hair and lavender eyes as most of the Klatch,
but several hundred years of living had thinned his muscles and streaked
his hair with gray. Even the slower aging experienced on Tador eventually
took its toll on its inhabitants.
The man nodded to the bored waitress as he said a few words to her Aedan
couldn't hear. She popped her gum in answer and ambled off behind the
ancient counter.
Impatience made Aedan's heart beat faster and his throat constrict. He
might need this man for now, but
thrusting rhythm in time with his probing fingers and her arching hips. His
free hand gripped the hair at Katelyn's nape, capturing her against him and
assaulting her with sensations.
The air around them prickled with energy, and Katelyn's entire awareness
spiraled tighter and tighter until she knew her body could take no more.
The soft scrape of Grayson's tunic against her engorged nipples, and his
rough hand pounding against her swollen labia, fed into the pool of
sensations flowing through her until she shattered.
Pleasure and raw energy pulsed through her, singeing along every nerve
ending and making her cry out. Distantly she was aware that Grayson had
stiffened against her, the vibrations of his low groan rumbling through her
to join with the other sensations washing over her.
The scrape of a shoe made them both stiffen, and Katelyn's eyes flew open
to see a man with Grayson's coloring and height staring at them—his
expression showing both surprise and hunger.
"My apologies. I was looking for Alyssandra. I'll leave you two alone." He
turned and disappeared through the doorway.
Mortification threatened to swallow Katelyn whole. She closed her eyes,
refusing to look at Grayson. "I just met the king, didn't I?"
6
Aedan sipped his bitter coffee as he scanned the dingy diner. It seemed
almost a cliché place to wait for his informant, but cliché meant it had been
used before—successfully.
The wallpaper was aged and yellowed, giving no clue as to the original
color. Booths with cracked vinyl tops sat in neat rows, while a boredlooking waitress popped her gum and took orders at snail speed. The smell
of old, burned grease permeated everything, and Aedan knew his clothes
would reek of it.
Six other diners had chosen to overlook the ragged appearance of the place
and gamble with their health to order food.
Aedan shook his head at the stupidity of humans.
He had arrived an hour earlier to ensure there were no non-humans here—
especially the Klatch royal guards. If they found out the identity of his
informant, months of careful work and planning would be ruined in an
instant. Apparently, the man had a network of spies in place back on
Klatch, and Aedan planned to use them all to the fullest.
Failure wasn't an option.
Sela had made that abundantly clear, and he was still healing from that
"discussion." He reached to touch the goose egg on the back of his head
where he'd hit the wall, and winced when pain lanced through him like
lightning.
Hot anger flowed through his veins, and he ground his teeth. Sela was a
beautiful and very dangerous woman—one he had hoped to tame. Her
rebuke had been a cold awakening of just how far he still had to go toward
that goal.
There had never been a king of the Cunts, but Aedan planned to change
that. Sela had kept a figurehead "husband" in place only to help keep an
eye on Alyssa until the time for her coming of age was near. When the false
ascension plan failed, Sela had wasted no time killing the man.
Aedan planned on being much more than a figurehead. He was Sela's
match in every way—and she would soon realize it when he thwarted the
Klatch's plans for the triangle. Then he would rule, at Sela's side, and both
Tador and Earth would be his.
The bells over the door jingled, signaling the arrival of Aedan's
informant—he hadn't bothered to learn his name, which had seemed to
give the man a false sense of security.
The man had the same dark hair and lavender eyes as most of the Klatch,
but several hundred years of living had thinned his muscles and streaked
his hair with gray. Even the slower aging experienced on Tador eventually
took its toll on its inhabitants.
The man nodded to the bored waitress as he said a few words to her Aedan
couldn't hear. She popped her gum in answer and ambled off behind the
ancient counter.
Impatience made Aedan's heart beat faster and his throat constrict. He
might need this man for now, but
Similar Books
