The Blade Chaser's Son Read online

  Katie fought for a decent breath.

  “I said—”

  “I heard you.”

  He waited for an answer she couldn’t seem to formulate. “Katie?”

  “If that’s true, why did you push me away? Why did you act like it was just sex? Why—”

  “Everyone seemed so sure...” A look of misery settled on his face.

  She cupped his cheek, needing to understand. “Please, tell me.”

  Scott turned his head, pressing a kiss into her palm. “When you returned to Armen, everyone assumed you’d made your decision and chosen Tevin. I couldn’t stand to watch it. It was killing me. And then when I found out—”

  A sour taste rose up from her stomach. “That self-important, self-absorbed creep? You have to be kidding. How could you ever think—”

  Scott kissed her, a hard, fast kiss, then laughed heartily. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “He was the one who convinced you to leave. Wasn’t he?” She corked her Blutjagd, unwilling to give the Warriors anything to track.

  “I think that was his aim — that or goading me again. I’m sorry. I played right into his hands.”

  “I’m not,” she snapped, visions of her blade against Tevin’s throat in her mind.

  He looked away, his smile disappearing, swallowing hard. His hand retreated. “I should take you back,” he choked out.

  Realization chilled her. “No. Oh, Gods, Scott! I meant—”

  He trained hopeful eyes on her.

  “When you left me, I ended up with my blade to Tevin’s throat. My only regret is that Corwyn stopped me before I killed him or left scars.”

  His eyes widened. A smile lit his face, and he was abruptly laughing hysterically.

  “I love you, Scott. I’ve hoped that you’d come to me every hour since you left me. That’s a lot of hours.”

  His laughter died out. “Yes it is. We have so much to discuss,” he whispered.

  Katie nodded slowly. “Do you have sacred weapons?” she asked.

  “One in my saddle bag. Why?”

  “Then, I suggest that we seal printing now and report back to Armen before nightfall. We can talk later, but meeting dark without weapons isn’t a smart move.” She managed a wry smile. “And facing our families without sealing might be even more dangerous than that.”

  Scott barely breathed. “You still want me?”

  “Gods, yes. There’s no one else for me.”

  “If I make love to you, it’s forever. You won’t be getting rid of me.”

  “I don’t want to get rid of you.”

  He nodded, pushing to kneeling between her knees. Scott peeled off his jacket and hung it over the seat of his cycle then did the same with his t-shirt. Katie slipped her arms out of her sweater and trailed her hands down to her jeans.

  “Yes,” he urged her. His movements mirrored her own right down to his rapt attention on her slit and hers on his ram-rod cock as their jeans slid away.

  Scott scooped his hands under her knees and lifted slightly, smiling as she fought the jeans at her calves and succeeded in binding her ankles together in the cloth. There was no way out; her jeans were trapped on her boots, lace-up style, so she couldn’t slip them off — and her legs were braced out on his arms.

  He lowered his head, stroking his tongue up the sensitive span between her legs. Katie cried out, thrusting her hips up in shock and pleasure. He didn’t explain himself; he hardly needed to. Scott wanted her at his mercy, her release in his hands and no one else’s.

  He had no mercy. When she grasped at his hair, he captured her wrists in his hands and pinned them to her knees. She was trapped, fully open to his ministrations. He brought her up fast and hard, nipping at her outer lips, sucking and licking at her clit, thrusting his tongue inside her. Katie screamed, arching her back so that she all but left the ground.

  Scott eased her down, releasing her legs and grasping her wrists again, pinning them to the ground above her head then winding his fingers through hers as he rose up over her. “Oh, so very bad,” he breathed, taking her breast in his mouth.

  His flicking tongue sent reminder notices that she was still empty and wanting. Katie rolled her head side to side, licking her lips, trying unsuccessfully to shift against him.

  He released her and moved to the other, his breath making promises. “We’re going shopping tomorrow.”

  “For?” she managed in a thick voice.

  His lips brushed back and forth over the rigid tip of her nipple. “Sex toys. Lingerie. I promised to make you a bad girl, and I intend to do it.” His mouth closed over her breast, nipping, sucking, ravenous.

  She whimpered, trying to force it deeper, though she could barely move. He eased further up her body, his breath fanning over her lips as if he couldn’t decide whether or not to kiss her. His body pressed hard to hers, his cock leaving a damp trail across her inner thigh.

  The solid fact that beads of precome caused the wetness brought her mind into focus. She couldn’t allow Scott to undermine his position by forgetting the rules of sanction.

  “Scott,” she whispered, waiting for him to make eye contact before continuing. “You know I’m high cycle.”

  A fresh spurt of his seed wet her leg, announcing his tenuous control. “I want to do this right,” he assured her.

  “So which—”

  “Give me permission, Katie. I’m — begging you to let me have everything.”

  She seemed to forget how to breathe for a moment. Despite their Warrior inclinations, she’d felt sure he would want to wait.

  Misery touched his face. “Let me be a father. Let me raise our children right. I can’t promise I’ll be perfect, but—”

  “Yes.”

  He stared at her, his expression cycling between disbelief and hope.

  “I’ll help you,” she promised. If there was one thing Katie knew, it was family.

  His mouth closed over hers, thanking her without words. Then he released her and slid home. She gasped at the feeling of a single spurt inside of her. Scott grimaced, trembling, no doubt reining in the urge to spill immediately in his excitement. He thrust into her again and again, his groans and whispers mixing with her cries of pleasure.

  “I’m asking,” he began seriously.

  “Yes,” Katie pleaded.

  “Forever. Say you’ll give me everything, Katie, and I’ll never leave you again.”

  “I’m all yours,” she panted, her body reaching for another release. She tightened her grip on his hands, pressing her hips hard against his and forcing him deeper.

  He shouted her name, his seed swirling inside her. Katie screamed, her body pulsing in time with his continuing thrusts. Heat enveloped them, imprinting the moment in her memory, imprinting his now-still cock to her gripping sheath until she knew no other would feel right filling her.

  “Oh, God,” he breathed. “I never dreamed it would be this good.” His lips caressed her forehead.

  * * * *

  “How can you be so calm?” Curt grumbled.

  Erin smiled, touching his cheek. “She’s perfectly safe.”

  Corwyn snorted. “If that’s true, why haven’t you called the Mahers in?”

  “The only reason I’m letting his search continue is the fact that your sister is unarmed. I hope they have enough sense to come in on their own, before night falls. If not—”

  “Of course we do,” Katie stated calmly.

  Erin spun to greet her, raising a hand to still her husband and son. The last thing they needed was some hothead killing Scott in the heat of the moment, when they’d just sealed printing.

  Scott tensed at Katie’s shoulder, but there was no other sign of aggression from the young Warrior, not that she’d expected there would be.

  She scanned her daughter, making note of the mussed hair, crumpled jeans, oversized Navy blue t-shirt and men’s leather jacket she wore. The distinct smell of sex lingered on them, as well, confirming what the stone finally told her an hour be
fore.

  “You bastard,” Corwyn growled, his Blutjagd spiking. Before Erin could call him back, her son lunged for Scott.

  Katie didn’t waste a moment. She drew Scott’s weapon and took a defensive stance in front of him, ready to take down even her twin if he posed a threat to her mate. Corwyn came to a halt a little less than an arm’s length outside her arc radius, shooting a look requesting aid at his parents.

  Scott stepped forward, grasping the hilt of his weapon just below the blade and yanking it from her fingers. “Another subject to discuss,” he informed her.

  “Even if I do conceive, I haven’t yet,” she argued.

  Corwyn choked on that.

  “Katie,” Curt began.

  She ignored him, focusing on Scott. “I am a Warrior, you know. It’s ingrained in me to protect my mate.”

  He chuckled, wrapping a hand around her waist and drawing her to his body. His eyes gleamed in challenge. “Do you want to be a Warrior right now? I can think of better things to be.” He mouthed something at her then smiled widely.

  Erin replayed that silent message several times, but all she could come up with was the word ‘bad.’

  Katie seemed to have problems forming a sentence, and she blushed crimson. “I think we should discuss this upstairs,” she finally managed.

  “Yes. Discussing is definitely on the list of priorities,” he said, though his tone clearly announced that it wasn’t the highest priority. Scott glanced their way, bowing his head slightly. “By your leave?”

  Erin bit back laughter. “House lords and stone vessels do not interfere in the relationships between Warriors and their spouses.”

  He smiled and turned Katie toward the doorway to the foyer and the stairs beyond. Corwyn stared at the bulge in Scott’s jeans, an indicator of their highest priority, and rolled his eyes as they turned away.

  “Well, what now?” Curt asked.

  “Call the Mahers and Armens in—and make the announcement that we’ll have a König-Armen baby before Labor Day.”

  “You can’t know that,” Corwyn snapped.

  Erin raised an eyebrow and waited for him to catch up with the fact that she knew a lot more than he counted on.

  He sighed. “Damn it.”

  Epilogue

  November 19th, 2049

  Katie groaned into Scott’s mouth, noting his fingers inching up the T-shirt she’d donned. She pulled away, her mind muddled. “Dinner, Scott,” she gasped. “They won’t send it up like they did the first night.” As it was, they’d barely emerged for meals and the occasional training session in the last eight days.

  “We’ll raid the kitchen later,” he promised absently.

  “I’m starving. We missed lunch.”

  He lifted her, grinding her against his still-ready length. “I’m starving, too.”

  She bit her lip as the force of her arousal swamped reason. “How do they do it?” she wondered aloud.

  “They who?” His voice was rough, but in jealousy or arousal, she couldn’t tell.

  “Warriors. How do they survive conceiving a child without dying of starvation or dehydration?”

  Scott’s head came back, his eyes wide. His hand dipped inside her jeans, caressing her lower abdomen. “Oh, God.”

  Katie didn’t ask if he’d sensed her. She simply waited for his reaction. She didn’t have long to wait.

  He settled her back on her feet, dropping to one knee before her as he had in the field they’d sealed in. The press of his lips through her jeans made her heart stutter. Scott kissed her over and over, a silent testament to his feelings.

  She forced his name past her lips, her knees quaking.

  “Food,” Scott decided, standing and scooping Katie up so abruptly that it stole her breath. He wrenched the door open and headed for the stairs.

  “Scott,” she protested weakly. “I can walk.”

  “You’re lightheaded. Once we’re downstairs...”

  Katie nodded, sinking into his chest, breathing his musk deep into her lungs and smiling in response. At the foot of the stairs, Scott eased her to her feet, keeping a hand on her lower back, presumably ready to catch her if her balance deserted her.

  Conversations quieted somewhat as they entered the dining room. It was a smaller company than they’d come to expect.

  Tevin, Jordan, and Antony had been sent away when Katie went to the mad cabin on the assumption that neither of them would be up for facing the other eligible Warriors just after breaking printing. Tom had asked to leave on his own, apparently interested in a permanent arrangement that had nothing to do with Katie.

  Still, the house had been filled again by dinner the day after they’d sealed. Between her Uncle Adam Lord Maher, his wife Jo, and their son Joseph, her cousin Mikel of Crossbearer-König and his wife Holly, and her distant cousin Brandon Lord Hunter, the table was more overloaded than it had ever been.

  It had taken three days for her assorted relatives to start clearing out. Her immediate family had lasted the longest, a full week before Bear had reluctantly taken his leave along with their parents. But, while they’d headed for Maher range, Bear had headed for Hunter.

  That had left the skeleton crew of Armens behind at the training house with them.

  Scott guided Katie to her chair and saw her settled before he sat next to her. Katie dug in, filling her plate from the platters without delay, but Scott didn’t move to fill his own. She stopped, staring at his speculative look in confusion. Before she could speak, he did.

  “Matt? I wanted to say I was sorry.”

  The room went silent and still; forks stopped halfway to mouths.

  Matt swallowed his mouthful of food slowly. “For?” He managed an even tone, though his heart had to be racing.

  “I’ve thought about the conversation we had before I left, over and over again. You were trying to keep me from hurting Katie. Weren’t you?”

  “Yes. I was.”

  “Then I owe you an apology. You see... I’ve never had a father. I know that’s not your fault, but...” He sighed. “I don’t understand how a father thinks. I don’t understand why you do the things you do.”

  Matt started to speak, but Scott motioned him for patience. He raised Katie’s hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles tenderly. Scott didn’t look at his father when he continued.

  “I need to know these things now. I’m—asking—for your help, because you’re good at this. You offered to teach me, once.”

  Katie looked back and forth between them.

  Scott didn’t meet her eyes or Matt’s. He breathed in shallow streams of air. She could almost taste his fear. Scott had laid himself open in a rare show of trust, extended the olive branch, knowing it might be refused.

  Matt had gone pale, his eyes wide, his fists set at either side of his plate. “That’s what fathers do, Scott.” His voice was strained.

  Sarah, his wife, squeezed his arm in reassurance. For a long moment, no one spoke.

  Scott turned to him, nodding. “Lesson one.”

  “Lesson two,” Matt countered. “You never stop learning. Your children teach you as much as you teach them.”

  He chuckled, most probably in relief. “I guess I’m a little behind on teaching you.”

  Matt joined him, laughing heartily. “Me too. If you’re willing, I’d like to catch up, though.”

  Scott met Katie’s eyes and brushed his fingertips along her cheek. “This is a König-Armen baby. He or she is going to have everything I never did, especially family.”

  About the Author

  Brenna Lyons lives in Haverhill, MA with her husband, three children, and a zoo of pets. She was born and raised in the Hazelwood/Glenwood area of Pittsburgh, PA and toured the east coast as a Navy wife for thirteen years.

  She enjoys the Society for Creative Anachronism and is a member of such groups as Broad Universe, EPIC, WRW and ERA.

  Brenna holds a BS in Accounting and a Certificate of Computer Programming. Why? An auditing teacher com
mented that she would either "make the perfect auditor or the perfect thief," and she had been writing for eleven years with little professional training—in effect, a thief of attention by misdirection.

  Never one to pass up a challenge, Brenna has worked as an auditor, tracking down fraud suspects, finding the backdoors into exchange computer systems, creating accounting programs for government and small businesses, and as a writer. Overall, it's the best of both worlds.

  Brenna enjoys talking to readers and can be reached via her site at http://www.brennalyons.com