All's Fair... (Spoils Series, UC, Mi/L, Adult) [WIP]

[Ashita]

Title: All's Fair in Love and War
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Just borrowing the characters for a bit.
Pairing: Polar; Mi/L; also mentions of Rebel, In Crowd and Antar Rath and Vilandra Pairing
Rating: Adult
Summary: Miscellaneous drabbles/vignettes based on the Spoils of War series. it's important to note that these are not in chronological order, but jump around in time dependent on the story I'm currently working on.

AN: After a lot of consideration, I decided to move this set of drabbles to their own separate thread since they have dominated my general drabble thread and taken it over. I feel that they have taken on such a life of their own that they deserved their own holding place.

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Futile

“It’s against custom, Rath,” Jarid tried to reason with his brother, growing increasingly frustrated as the sandy-haired man blatantly ignored his suggestion. “War is no place for a woman, it is a man’s job.”

“She stays, period.” Michael stated implacably, flicking cool brandy eyes up at his advisor briefly, his lips compressing in displeasure before turning his gaze back to the blueprints in front of him. Like he cared about his world’s outdated views. She was staying right where he could watch over her whether the Council liked it or not. Having her shut away in a safe house would be more of a distraction than put him at ease.

“Women have delicate natures,” the blond man sighed, running a hand through his short waves, his brown eyes twinkling with amusement as he watched his sibling snort at the idea of his Liz having delicate sensibilities. Some things never changed. Even on Antar, his youngest brother had been a bit of a hothead and prone to doing things his own way. “They need our protection.”

“And the best way to protect Liz, is to keep her here with me,” Michael rumbled, his brow pinching thoughtfully as he marked the coordinates of a potential enemy camp on his map. Rubbing his face wearily, he glanced at the clock and groaned, realizing he was going to be late for dinner once again. Liz was going to kill him. She hated when he left her with Davin all day. “I trust no one else with her life.”

“The guards at the safe house are among the best warriors on our planet,” Jarid argued, gathering the ends of his robe and rearranging them over his tunic and knit pants, irritated that he was the one that had to reason with Rath once again. Didn’t the Council realize that it was futile to argue with him once his mind was made up? “They are perfectly capable…”

“There will be no further discussion on this, Jarid,” Michael stated evenly, cutting off his sibling’s argument impatiently. It didn’t matter what the other man said, he wasn’t going to send Liz miles away on some misguided notion that it was safer. He couldn’t fight Isabel’s and Tess’s parents when they sent the girls away and look what happened. No way was he going to lose Liz as well. “She stays.”

“She’s a liability, “ Jarid pointed out in a last ditch effort, knowing of his brother’s love and desire for the pretty brunette even if he wouldn’t admit it to himself or the Council at large. He approved of the match himself, but he was only one voice in the Council and knew that the elders would prefer the king to mate with a pure Antarian.

“She is more of an asset to me than the useless men who sit on their asses all day planning my life,” Michael bit out contemptuously, fixing his brother with an unyielding glare as he gathered his map up and strode out the door without a backward glance. “You would do well to remind them of that fact.”

[Ashita]

Table

“So, were you able to crack those new codes?” Michael finally asked, breaking the frosty silence that hovered over the dinner table. Flicking a wary glance over at the petite brunette that’d been occupying his thoughts far too often of late, he bit back a sigh when her lips pressed together mutinously and she viciously stabbed a carrot, staring it at as if she were envisioning it was his head, an evil grin sliding over her face.

“What, not going to ask your watchdog?” Liz griped bitterly, pushing her food around her plate with her fork, fixing fiery ebon eyes in his direction, all too aware that she was pushing his hot button.

Lifting his head, he stared her pointedly, cocking a brow and shoved a bite of chicken into his mouth, refusing rise to the bait. Chewing his food slowly to keep from making a scathing retort and escalating an already tense moment, he waited for her to continue and get it out of her system. See and they said he couldn’t learn.

“Oh I see, you already asked and want to see if our stories match?” she continued mockingly, setting her fork down and tipped her head defiantly, pasting a disturbingly pleasant smile on her lips. Planting her elbows on the table, she rested her chin on clasped hands and stared at him just as pointedly.

Rubbing his hand over his face wearily, Michael barely refrained from rolling his eyes at her contentious barb and tipped his head to the ceiling, praying for strength. Seemed like his long day was just going to get longer. Fixing her with an irritated moue, he retorted. “You’re pissed you had to spend the day with Davin, I get it, okay? Can we can the sarcasm? It’s not like today was a picnic for me either.”

Silence descended over the table once more, each of them stewing in their own thoughts and picking at the food in front of them. Michael continued observing her through the corner of his eye, noting the dark circles staining her eyes and the lines of strain pinching her brow and softened. He knew the foolish woman took far too much onto her plate in an effort to make up for what she felt was her part in escalating the war.

“I’m almost done with them,” she responded evenly, keeping her gaze leveled on the plate in front of her. Raising her head, she smirked and stared at a point over his shoulder. “Can I be excused now, your majesty or do I have to wait on your command?”

Scowling at her last words, Michael shoved his chair back and leaned over, pressing his nose intimately to hers, forcing her eyes to meet his. Holding her aggravated gaze, he grit his teeth and grasped her jaw, whispering raggedly as a flash of hurt sliced through his body. “I have never treated you like a subject and I don’t intend to start.”

“Then what is with the minion shadowing me all day?” she lashed back heatedly, irritation crackling along her nerves, holding his equally frustrated gaze, flinching slightly as she noticed how close his mouth was to hers. Really just a whisper away. Licking her lips nervously, her heart thudded in her ears as their breath mingled and she drew back hastily, slightly confused as the heat coursing through her veins changed.

“It’s for your protection,” he replied intractably, dropping his hand and sitting back, his own breath hitched. Startled sherry-tinted eyes skimmed over his companion and he couldn’t help but wonder what she would’ve done if he’d dropped a kiss onto those impudent lips. He was still tempted to try when she growled at his last words, startling him out of his reverie.

“I can take care of myself,” she hissed, flicking him another fiery glance as she tossed her napkin on the table and stalked out of the room, leaving her very confused and frustrated king behind.

Groaning, Michael dropped his fork on to his plate, cursing his inability to hold his tongue and shoved the platter away from him violently. Slumping in his chair, he dropped his head into his hands, shoving his fingers through his hair broodingly and bit back an oath. So maybe he hadn't learned after all. This was the perfect end to a bloody perfect day.

[Ashita]

Knot

Staring at the map he had taken back to his suite, Michael rubbed his eyes wearily and tried for what seemed the hundredth time to concentrate on the papers in front of him, only to fail once again because his thoughts were far too caught up in a stubborn brunette.

Groaning internally, he sat back in his desk chair and fixated on an unknown spot in the ceiling, churning their latest ‘discussion’ over in his head, still smarting from the biting words she tossed at him.

He couldn’t believe her king crack, although in a perverse way, after the initial sting wore off, he was proud of the way she stood up to him; that she felt comfortable enough with him to lose her temper instead of the uneasy truce they had for a long time. Not to mention it kind of turned him on. He had to admire her spirit, even if it fueled that stubborn streak that drove him nuts.

Closing his eyes, he rested his head on the back of his chair and released a heavy breath, mentally kicking himself for the way he handled that conversation. One would think he’d have learned to express his thoughts better, or little more tactfully at the very least, over the years, but his mouth still managed to get him into more trouble than good. Especially with Liz; the woman was going to drive him insane.

And then that flare of heat between them. He hadn’t expected that at all. And that answering call of desire in her eyes just floored him, the embers smoldering in chocolate eyes, the flush of temper and arousal? in her cheeks, the slight parting of those impossibly soft, pink lips. He had to wonder what they’d taste like. Sweet? Spicy? An intoxicating combination of the two?

Yup, see, crazy. She was going to be the death of him one way or the other. He had to stop those thoughts. So he was attracted to her. It was bound to happen. A man couldn’t be confined in tight quarters with a beautiful woman without noticing her eventually. And maybe have her notice him as well? That was an intriguing thought.

Groaning aloud in truth this time, he pressed his hands over his face, rubbing the grit from his eyes and growled at himself in frustration, stiffening when he heard a faint rustle at his door followed by the haunting combination of rain and vanilla. He’d know that scent anywhere, but tonight, it was branded into his consciousness.

Liz.

Pulling his hands away, he opened his eyes, spinning his chair so he faced her and slid one arm behind him, pillowing his head as he studied her contemplatively, still a little wary given their earlier spat. She hovered at the doorway, watching him just as warily, her body equally as stiff, unreadable ebony eyes flicking over him as if she were trying to read his mood as well.

He hated that look; hated to see his mask on a face he once had no problem reading. Of course, a couple years of war would put that look in anyone’s eyes. But he hated she was using his own tactics on him. No wonder she got so frustrated with him when he pulled back behind his mask; he wanted to shake her himself for being on the receiving end.

“Here are the translations you requested” Liz informed stiltedly, her body tense as she approached him, holding out a sheaf of papers, eyes sparking slightly when he refused to move and take them out of her hand, forcing her to come closer than she intended.

Trying desperately to keep her breath even, she met his stoic gaze and couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking and if he even noticed that sexually charged moment in the dining room. It had been driving her to distraction all night. The thought that he might not have and she was alone in those new feelings crushed her. Yet, the thought that he did and wanted it just as much terrified her even more.

“You could have finished them tomorrow,” he responded quietly, wisely biting back the smirk tugging at his lips to see that mask caving and kept sober eyes leveled with her warming gaze.

Watching her intently as she moved within inches of him to set the papers on the desk beside him, he stifled a grunt when her thigh brushed against his, setting off a hum of awareness crackling over his nerves. Shoving that away, he sat up in his chair putting a little distance between them and fingered the papers, their hands lightly touching, a spark jumping between them.

“Yeah, well the sooner the better,” she responded, slightly out of breath at the jolt of electricity that shot up her arm at that touch and barely quelled a sharp breath. Tensing further, although for a very different reason, she pulled her hand away hastily and spun around, needing to get out of there before she did something stupid and gave into that pull, potentially destroying the friendship they’d been building. She couldn’t believe she was just noticing him now.

“Liz, please,” he pleaded, latching onto her wrist before she could move away, throwing all pretense aside in his need to make things right with the only person he had left from their original octet. He didn’t want to lose her as well. Biting back a gasp as her energy hummed over him warmly, he fortified his shields so he could get through this without doing something stupid, like pushing her down on his desk and finding the answer to his earlier musings.

“I hate this,” she whispered, biting her bottom lip hard as she shielded herself from the electrical current that inched its way over her arm and enveloped her body like a warm blanket. Keeping her eyes anchored toward the door as she erected that blank wall once more and crammed her emerging feelings into a little box for examination later; when she was alone and didn’t have his aura raining all over her, prompting her to act on them.

“Me too,” he murmured, clawing at his brow with his other hand, retaining his link with her so she didn’t leave, misunderstanding her words and thinking she meant his constant surveillance of her. Maybe he had been a little overzealous in his protection of her, but he couldn’t help it after everything that had happened to their group. Not to mention he almost lost her a couple of months ago. “But after Maria…Isabel and Tess… I just need to know you ‘re safe.”

“I know,” she replied hastily, shaking off her absorbed thoughts and glad he had misunderstood the meaning behind her words. The last thing they needed was to give into some fleeting attraction and risk a good friendship. They relied on each other too heavily to let sex get between them. “But I can’t live like this, Michael. I won’t.”

Turning around, she fixed him with a quiet gaze, linking her fingers with his lightly and reveled in that connection she couldn’t quite understand. She’d thought she understood why she felt this with Max, having been healed by him and then Tess because she and Max were bonded, but maybe it was just an alien thing and she’d react to any of them if she opened herself up enough.

But why did she have the niggling feeling it was so much more and deeper with Michael? Is it because he’s king? Or is there more behind it? Startling as she heard him clear his throat, she shook off her absorption and focused on the man in front of her, marking that thought for future analyzing.

“Can we keep the hovering to a minimum?” she pleaded quietly, running her free hand through her hair and sighed heavily. She understood why he was so paranoid over her safety, but something had to give. If she had to spend one more day in Davin’s company, she was going to kill him. Not because he was disagreeable, but because he was worse than Michael when it came to watching her every move. “Say, when I leave the building?”

“Deal,” Michael agreed readily, relieved she wasn’t going to fight him totally on having an elite guard and was only protesting it inside the palace walls. That he could do. Besides, there was more than one way to keep an eye on her when she was indoors, wards that could be set up on her suite and he could have cameras and stuff installed in the sunroom, which was quickly becoming her office.

“Okay,” she replied, knowing full well he’d find other ways to watch over her and wouldn’t be surprised to find surveillance equipment in her main room and the sunroom. But if it meant she wouldn’t have a guard breathing down her neck, she was okay with those measures. Michael was still Michael.

“So, we good?” he queried, squeezing her hand gently and pulling her a little closer to him so that she stood between his legs. Grabbing her other hand, he watched her quietly, lips quirking into a half-smile as her eyes and lips softened, pulling one of her hands away to rest on his shoulder.

“Yeah,” she smiled ruefully, shaking her head slightly as lightening brown eyes flicked over his upturned face. Reaching her free hand up, she brushed tawny waves back from his forehead, marveling at the silky texture. Pulling her other hand from his, she cupped his face and closing her eyes, pressed a kiss to his brow, missing the pained look on his face before his eyes slid shut as well, his hands gripping her hips lightly. “You take far too much onto your shoulders.”

“Yeah, nice to meet you Pot,” he snorted huskily, his heart beating madly as her lips brushed against his forehead and he took a deep breath, her scent drifting over him as his fingers tightened on her hips unconsciously. Tipping his head slightly, he pressed a kiss on her cheek, careful to keep the gesture light and friendly before pulling away, looking back at his desk so she didn’t see the wealth of contradicting feelings swimming in his eyes.

“Pleasure’s all mine, Kettle,” she quipped dryly, amazed her voice and breath came out as steady as it did given the confusing emotions flooding her blood and she pulled away, putting a careful distance between them as she pretended to organize the papers she set on the desk. Smirking at him grudgingly, she shrugged her shoulders and joked, trying to put them back on familiar ground. “I guess I can be a little stubborn.”

“A little?” he teased, his eyes sparkling devilishly as he stood and forced himself back on task, glad they had moved beyond their earlier disagreement, setting aside those moments of attraction for the time being. It was better for them both if he just ignored his reaction to her. Grabbing the sheaf of papers, he scanned them quickly, retaining bits of information for further exploration and discarded what felt like red herrings.

“Watch it Guerin, I just forgave you not even five minutes ago,” she warned, shoving him lightly and laughing, ignoring her still tingling cheek where his lips had briefly brushed. She didn’t want to push him away, so it was best to just pretend she didn’t think anything more of his gesture than the friendly peck he meant it to be. “You don’t want to end up back in the dog house.”

“Right, so lets go over these plans really fast,” he snorted, pulling out his maps and grabbing a pencil and ruler. He really wanted to get her thoughts on the information she gave him plus the other camps his soldiers had scouted out. Spreading them before him, he unconsciously pulled her into his side, caging her in as they poured over the blueprints he had desperately been trying to concentrate on all night, feeling the tension of the day slide of his back.

[Ashita]

Flare

“Stop moving or you’ll make it worse,” she retorted, quickly stripping the man before her of his tunic, inhaling sharply as she took in the long slash across his abdomen, still seeping blood as she pulled the cloth away. Tsking under her breath, she flicked him an exasperated look when he squirmed once more under her probing touch.

“We’ll if someone wasn’t determined to torture me, I’d stay still,” he muttered, hissing when her fingers trailed over a particularly tender spot and flinched away from her, glaring heatedly.

“If someone had controlled his temper, this wouldn’t be necessary,” she returned in an equally fiery tone as she studied him with a small measure of disapproval, irritation and fear trickling through her veins at how close they had come to losing him. All because they had fought and he’d stormed off, walking right into an enemy ambush. “Now hold still while clean this.”

“Son of a bitch!” he griped, jerking away from her as pain skittered over his nerves when she prodded the area with a pair tweezers and scissors, leaning over to remove a flap of skin from the shallow wound. Knocking the scissors from her hand, he glared at her balefully. “You said clean not strip my skin.”

“I need to remove the skin or it will collect dirt and get infected,” she argued, marching across the room to pick up the scissors and grab a bottle of rubbing alcohol along with a sterile pad before returning to her cranky patient. Lifting her hands to attempt cutting away the skin once more, she huffed when his hands clamped around her wrists and held her off.

“Alien, Liz,” he quipped patronizingly, fixing the petite brunette with an aggravated moue, his body still trembling with pent up adrenaline and something a bit more primal coursing through his blood. Inhaling sharply when Liz moved closer to him, he cursed under his breath before retorting. “We don’t get infections.”

“You know, Jarid didn’t fuss nearly this much,” the brunette observed coolly, pulling her wrists from his grasp and cocked a brow at him as she set the scissors and tweezers aside with a sigh. Placing her hands on her hips, she shook her head at his obstinacy and barely quelled the urge to throttle him for scaring her as he had that night.

“He also only had a tiny cut on his forehead and I nearly got gutted, huge difference,” Michael grated, scratching his brow agitatedly as he tried to ignore the burning in his gut that had nothing to do with his injury and smirked at the frustration simmering in her eyes. Meeting hers dead on, he dared her to do something about it, still fired up from their earlier encounter.

“At least he was grateful for my help and didn’t act like a baby,” she lobbed, ignoring his unspoken taunt and rolled her eyes when he grunted with satisfaction over her retreat. Reaching for the alcohol swab, she stood between his legs and focused on the wound, missing his heated, intense scrutiny as their bodies brushed together.

“Well, if you weren’t determined to finish the enemies job, Nurse Ratched,” he hissed and shrunk back as she dabbed at the wound, grunting under his breath at the stinging touch. Pinning her with an irritated grimace, he spat, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Maybe I’d be a little more grateful.”

Annoyed, Liz flicked a harassed gaze at her querulous patient and slapped the entire alcohol soaked cloth against his wound, grinning wickedly as a sharp grunt ripped past his lips. Flinching violently, Michael swore as a blaze of pain shot across his stomach. Pressing his lips together he yanked her wrist away and fiery caramel eyes narrowed, vowing a world of retribution for her actions.

“Oh please, it’s a shallow cut, quit your bitching,” she smirked, tugging at her wrist and narrowing her own eyes when he refused to relinquish the appendage, using it to drag her closer to him. Her heart hammered as his eyes clashed with hers and he rested a possessive hand on her hip, her voice taking on a breathless quality as she snarked. “Great warrior my ass.”

Watching the pretty brunette in front of him with smoldering intensity, Michael leaned in until their faces were only inches apart, licking his lips slowly and smiling wolfishly when her eyes lowered to watch his mouth. Crowding her further, he suppressed a low moan when the slightest hint of vanilla whispered over his senses and murmured darkly, “Lock the door and I’ll show you just how much of a warrior I am, woman.”

Licking her lips nervously, Liz’s breath stilled her lungs, her throat clenching as his breath wafted over her face and she swayed, head swimming dizzily at his proximity. Drawing a deep breath, she tore her hypnotized gaze from his lips; hazy chocolate meeting heated, amused brandy-tinted irises and shook her head slightly, pursing her lips thoughtfully as she masked the desire still thrumming through her blood.

“Not really interested, Guerin,” she sniffed dismissively, tipping her nose in the air haughtily and fixing him with a cool, assessing glance. Pulling her wrist from his grip, she slapped a bandage into his hand and strode out the door, tossing her parting shot over her shoulder. “From what I hear, I can get better action from a puppy.”

“Liar,” he charged mockingly and snickered when her back stiffened, her hands clenching at her sides as she continued out of the sick room, refusing to dignify his accusation with an answer and make herself out to be exactly as he alleged. Unwrapping the white bandage, he smirked as he bandaged his wound, feeling slightly smug – point for him. “That got her.”

[Ashita]

AN: Spellbound takes place at Michael's Coronation Ball, which is the same evening of Discovery, the following Incrowder drabble. This is also a companion to Michael's flashbacks in Chapter 4 of Shattered. The line up is, they dance, go out to the balcony and then when they come back in they get cornered by the vultures (as Michael calls them) once more and that's the scene Isabel and Kyle are commenting on. The flashback of Liz and Michael eating in Shattered corresponds with that the part where Isabel watches Liz feed Michael. Just a note to show you how the scenes layer over each other.
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Spellbound

Taking a deep breath, Michael ripped his gaze away from the petite brunette standing next to the private balcony wall overlooking the gardens and shifted uncomfortably. He’d been staring again, something he’d been doing since she’d arrived for the Coronation Ball. He was going to get caught at this rate and then how the hell would he explain himself?

Hey, Liz, I know you dated my brother and I once dated your best friend and there are some sort of rules against this sort of thing, but I think I’m in love with you?

He was surprised she hadn’t noticed his absorption yet. Either he was hiding it better than he thought or she was blind. He voted for the latter because he certainly hadn’t been all that subtle tonight. But he couldn’t help himself. If he’d thought the glittering ballroom lights suited her beauty, made her shine, he’d been horribly wrong, because here, under the cool moonlight, she was breathtaking, captivating…exquisite.

“God help me,” he muttered under his breath, not even realizing he’d spoken aloud until she turned around, watching him in askance, her soft pink lips curving gently as he moved towards her. His breath snagged as a light breeze stirred, molding the thin silk of her dress to subtle curves and had to stop and stare, entranced for a moment before averting his eyes and shoving his hands into his pockets.

“What’s that,” she asked, walking the rest of the distance toward him, completely oblivious to his internal struggle and coming to stand within inches of him, looping her arm through his and he nearly groaned aloud as her perfume? Lotion? Whatever the hell it was drifted up, teasing his nose, making him ache to hold her like he had on the dance floor. He wondered what she’d do if he did just that. That was an interesting thought.

“Nothing,” he replied, unconsciously shifting closer to her, wrapping an arm around her waist, nearly purring when she leaned into his body. Snuggling her head against his shoulder, she slid one arm around his waist, while the other rest on his stomach, absently stroking it and he closed his eyes, muscles clenching as desire bubbled through his veins.

Ah, God, are you trying to kill me, woman?

Stifling a pained grunt, he swallowed thickly and dared ask the question, uncharacteristic as it was, that had been preying on his mind since she’d taken off her cloak and he spied her dress. “So, umm, the dress, I’ve never seen this color combination on you before. What made you decide on this particular gown?”

“Oh, umm, Isabel,” she replied uncertainly, tipping her head to in surprise. Not that he blamed her. It’s not like he’d paid attention to fashion before, but he was dying to know why she had selected that dress. He was fairly certain she had no idea what the colors signified to him.

“Isabel?” he queried, looking down in faint confusion, rolling that over in his mind and had to wonder what his sister was up to. Isabel on the other hand knew exactly what they meant and that others would assume he was staking his claim, marking her as his potential mate since she was his hostess. Surprisingly, he wasn’t put off by that thought.

In fact, it was quite the contrary. While seeing Liz in his family colors threw him momentarily, it also sent a deep, primal satisfaction he didn't quite understand thrumming through his veins; that predatory fire that burned to claim its unwitting prey and mark her off limits to the other men hovering in the sidelines. Why hadn’t he noticed the vultures before?

“She was the one who selected the dress for me,” she responded, giving a slightly embarrassed laugh, her cheeks coloring under his probing gaze. “I was nervous about tonight and was having a hard time deciding what to wear, so she kinda took over and went all Nazi on me. I was leaning towards this red dress, but she thought this was more appropriate.”

“Hmmm…” he murmured distractedly, rubbing the silk gathered at her shoulder absently, unaware that he was staring at the material intently, a thoughtful frown his face. He couldn’t help but feel a little jolt at her explanation and warmth spread through his heart at the idea she’d made a special effort for tonight, for him.

“Why?” she asked worriedly, shaking him out of his musings and he noticed her shifting uncomfortably under his gaze, as if he’d made her feel self-conscious, which was the last thing he wanted. Good going Guerin, way to give a woman a complex. Ask her about the dress, frown at it and then refuse to explain yourself. “Is there something wrong with it? Should I have gone with a different color?”

“No!” he exclaimed hurriedly, flushing slightly at his outburst and finally noticing that he had been absently stroking the very soft, silky skin of her shoulder. His breath hitched as she shivered slightly in response, a trail of gooseflesh snaking down her arm. Huh, that was interesting.

“Um…no…I mean…” he replied, clearing his throat nervously as he loosened his hold and haltingly tried to explain himself. Dropping his hand to her waist, he cinched her tighter to his chest, loving the press of her body against his. Actually his body liked that way too much. “It’s fine. I…uh…I like it. That is…you look good.”

Wow. Real smooth there, Guerin. You’re just going to leave her in a puddle with that load of babble. But at least it wasn’t a lie. He did like; he liked it a lot.

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, Michael,” she quipped dryly, rolling her eyes at his stumbling compliment and shaking her head ruefully.

See…he should have just shut up. Actually he shouldn’t have said a damn thing in the first place. Not only was she going to think he was a freak, but he managed to insult the woman. Scratching his brow, he licked his lips and swallowed thickly as he tried to figure out how to make up for his gaff.

Startling when she began to pull away, he grabbed her wrist in a panic, his breath stuttering when curious chocolate eyes sparkled at him once more, a slim brow raising in question as she waited for him to speak. God, she was gorgeous wasn’t she? Taking a deep breath, he blurted the first thing that came to mind and nearly sighed with relief when it came out coherently.

“You look beautiful, Liz,” he whispered sincerely, letting his walls drop just slightly to show her how much he admired her and lifted a hand to stroke her cheek. Pulling her over to him, his heart raced as that teasing whiff of vanilla, rain and jasmine curled around him, dragging him into a downward spiral and he barely refrained from brushing his fingers over glossy, pink lips. Hell he had to fight from brushing his lips over them. “I’m just…was…a little…”

“A little?” she prompted quietly, leaning in until their faces were only inches apart and searching his as the air grew heavy around them, the tip of her tongue flitting out over parted lips. Biting back a groan of frustration, he tucked a strand of raven hair gently behind her ear, watching her quietly as his body tightened and his blood heated from her unwitting seduction. He was right, the woman was exhausting.

Sucking in a deep breath, he shook off his captivation and smirked, noting her flushed cheeks and hitched breath, bright ebony eyes glinting coyly as she watched him through thick, sable lashes and rallied, feeling decidedly better. “Just a little surprised you’re showing so much skin, Parker. Not that I’m complaining, as I easily have the best-looking date here. Remind me to thank the Nazi later.”

“Forgive me if I don’t,” she lofted dryly, her cheeks rouging further at his words and she grinned at him, linking her fingers with his as she leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, her body brushing against his lightly, sending an electric hum zinging over his all too aware nerves. “The last thing we need to do is encourage her.”

“Good point, Parker, very good point,” he whispered back, chuckling under his breath and enjoying the way her eyes lit up with laughter at his comments, chasing the earlier flash of uncertainty away. Rubbing his thumb over her hand, he nodded towards the door and the waiting ballroom. “Ready to go back in and face the masses?”

“As you wish, my King,” she quipped pertly, dipping her head as she smoothed her gown and missing his startled, yet pleased expression at her words. Glowing bourbon eyes flicked covetously over the petite brunette once more before they ripped away and he straightened his jacket self-consciously, cursing his absorption.

“Isn’t that supposed to be, Your Majesty,” he rasped, his voice low and husky and his mouth dried, blood rushing through his veins like liquid fire as he placed a hand on the small of her back, her soft golden skin gliding against his palm as he led her towards the balcony doors.

“Nope,” she teased lightly, her eyes laughing up at him as she walked on ahead, completely unaware of the impact her words had on the man behind her. “You’re mine. Well at least for another few hours…my King.”

Michael stilled, frozen in place by her words, his breath stalling in his lungs, heart jumping erratically before the air rushed out of his lungs as if he’d been sucker punched. And he had, because she had no idea just how true those words were. Sucking in a deep breath, he ran a shaky hand over his hair and followed her into the ballroom, murmuring inaudibly, “If you only knew…”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Discovery

“Think they’ll ever give up the pretense?” Kyle asked softly, turning to his companion with an amused glimmer in his blue-eyes as he watched a tall, tawny-haired man hover over a pretty, petite brunette across the ballroom, scowling at the few admirers who dared his wrath for a moment with Liz. Damn, he felt sorry for those poor saps tomorrow on the sparring field. You’d think they’d have learned by now that she was off limits.

“I have no idea,” the pretty blonde muttered, shaking her head as her brother placed a proprietary arm on his companion’s waist and bared his teeth at the man in front of her. No one could mistake that parody of a smile for anything other than the threat it was intended to be. Snorting when the other man paled slightly, she tossed Kyle a smirk. “I wish they’d just fuck and get it over with already. Put us all out of our misery.”

“Isabel Evans!” Kyle choked, turning wide, incredulous eyes onto the woman sitting next to him, mouth agape at her uncharacteristic comment. A grin split his face as he studied her unrepentant smirk and he shook his head, chuckling under his breath. His bad habits were rubbing off on the typically cool, collected princess.

“Oh, please, like you weren’t thinking it as well,” she snorted, fixing him with a knowing glance before turning to watch Michael herd Liz across the dance floor towards the refreshment table. She smiled as her brother handed the other girl a plate and helped her fill it, likely scolding her for not eating enough judging by the exasperated roll of her eyes.

“Yeah, but everyone expects me to be crude,” Kyle laughed, tossing her a wicked grin, his eyes following the other couple as Michael filled his own plate and ushered Liz to a nearby table, snickering as the other man watched the girl covetously when she wasn’t looking. “It’s part of my charm.”

Isabel laughed softly, smiling at him once more before she continued to observe their topic of interest. A soft pang filled her heart and her brow furrowed, sadness creeping into dark brown eyes when Liz fed Michael a bite of something off her plate and he smiled reluctantly at her comments. She never saw her brother smile anymore unless he was with the petite brunette. She seemed to be the only one that could calm his demons since Max had died.

“So, what’s this all about, really?” Kyle queried softly, his expression sobering as he turned to his companion and he silently watched the emotions flit across her face. Funny as her comment had been, he’d detected the brittle edges in her tone.

“Envy,” the blonde admitted softly, meeting his eyes sadly and shrugged, nodding towards the conversing couple who had become the inseparable friends they’d always had the potential to be over the past few months. Sending Kyle a bittersweet smile, her eyes misted slightly as she continued. “I’d give anything to have someone look at me the way he looks at her.”

Kyle swallowed thickly, his mind warring with his heart as he stared into the wet, brown eyes that had come to mean so much to him and drew a deep breath, plunging ahead. Now was as good a time as any. Cupping her cheek, his heart thrumming staccato, his own lips curved bitter-sweetly as his eyes drifted over her upturned face.

“Maybe if you looked a little harder,” he rasped thickly, his breath coming in shallow puffs and a trill of uncertainty snaked along his spine as he stroked her cheek gently. “You’d see someone does.”

Inhaling sharply, a warm glow suffused his chest as surprised eyes softened, warming under his admiring gaze. Tracing her lips with his thumb, he leaned over slowly, giving her enough time to pull away if she wanted and brushed his own against hers lightly. Pulling back, his eyes danced over her glowing face as their breaths mingled and he smiled, leaning to capture her lips once more when a rustle caught their attention.

Looking over their shoulders, the noticed Jarid watching his brother and shaking his head as Michael scowled at another of Liz’s would-be suitors, and grumbled under his breath, making both Kyle and Isabel snort with laughter. “By the Granilith Rath, why don’t you just whip it out and pee on her while you’re at it.”

“That is correct, right?” Jarid asked, furrowing his brow in askance, looking down at the princess and her consort, still slightly confused when it came to Earth’s slang. “Did I get it this time?”

“That is exactly right, my man,” Kyle chortled, staring at Isabel, laughter dancing in his eyes and smiled when her lips curved shyly, meeting his gaze through her lashes, mouthing the word “Later.”

Life was good.

[Ashita]

AN: Spoils of War drabble; This takes place before Shattered, right after Liz bonds with the Granilith. And, well as you see, things aren't quite what they seem. But when are they when it comes to the aliens?
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Lore

“It can’t be,” Rath muttered under his breath, staring off into space as he paced the room with some agitation. Rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, he paused his harried trek and turned to fix the soldier with a contemplative look, scratching his right brow absently. This wasn’t the news he was expecting when the man came into camp today.

And yet, it made perfect sense.

“I assure you Rath, she is bonded to the Granilith,” Ren replied, squirming under that intense, stoic gaze that was far too close to another’s. It was one that had put the fear into many a man, whether it shone out of the eyes the king or his arch nemesis – the general in front of him. It had to be eerie to know your biggest enemy was another incarnate of yourself. “I watched the King carry her back to her room after it happened. The mark on her arm was unmistakable.”

“This whole time…” The tall, sandy haired man whispered to himself, scrubbing his hand over short, spiked hair, forgetting the other man’s presence completely as his mind whirled at this new development. He knew that there had been something about her when he saw her all those years ago; had definitely felt a spark when their lips met, but he set it aside as nothing more than physical attraction.

“General?” Ren queried hesitantly, uncertain if he should interrupt the man’s distracted pondering and see if the man still needed to speak to him further or if he was dismissed to return to his post at the other camp. Shifting uncomfortably, he held his peace when the other man seemed not to hear him and turned to his dark-haired companion, meeting cool green eyes in appeal.

“She was rights in front of me the whole time,” Rath mumbled, rubbing one hand over is jaw thoughtfully, the other resting on his hip as he stared out into the night, a faint trace of excitement and desire stirring through his blood. Damn, he knew Sweets was special, she had to be with the way the others gravitated to her, but he couldn’t figure out why he hadn’t sensed presence. “Why didn’t I feels it?”

“Rath,” Khivar commanded firmly, drawing his second-in-command out of his preoccupied thoughts and looking at the soldier pointedly, implying that it might be best to have this conversation without his presence. He didn’t trust any man that was willing to betray his own side and wouldn’t have been surprised if he were playing both sides.

Rath’s head snapped to Ren with a scowl, annoyed that he let himself get so caught off guard that he nearly slipped up and said too much in front of the wrong person. No need to show all their cards before they were ready.

“Dismissed,” he ordered, waving his hand at the blond man impatiently and watched him leave the room before turning back to his superior with a piqued expression, cocking a brow at the other man’s cool continence.

“I should have felts her,” he continued as he walked toward the window and stared out at the darkening New Mexico desert, his thoughts churning a mile a minute. They’d been looking in the wrong place the entire time. “That kiss…”

Had haunted him for years. Everyone thought he’d done it just to be a perverse bastard and make waves, and well, he couldn’t deny he got a hell of a thrill twisting King Maxie’s panties in a bunch. But that had only been a perk. Really, the moment he walked up to her, her energy thrummed over him like a warm caress, rubbing against a part of him he thought long dead.

He had to wonder how his dupe had been able to tolerate being near her and never being able to hold her in his arms. Duke must have some serious shields or else he avoided her at all costs. Which actually, come to think…he did recall the way they danced around each other. Suddenly things fell into place far too neatly. What a mess.

“You know what this means,” Khivar rumbled, breaking through his thoughts once more, his brow furrowing only the slightest at the other man’s preoccupation and worried slightly. The last thing they needed was for him to get distracted and blow their mission over the little brunette.

“Her family suppressed her presence,” Rath responded, turning back to the other man as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the windowsill. This new development meant they’d have to revise their plans. No way could they go forward with their attack with her in the camp. “They know of their ancestry but why doesn’t she?”

“Her Grandmother died before she came of age,” the raven-haired man countered, shrugging his shoulders as he studied Rath, slightly puzzled himself at why she wouldn’t know; unless they wanted her to have as normal a childhood before facing her destined office. Yet it was far too convenient that her grandmother didn’t get the chance to tell her anything. “And the gift is known to skip generations, so her dad may not know anything about it.”

“Right there,” Rath reiterated, shaking his head that he could have missed something so important. That must mean the Granilith had been there the entire time, if her family were the current keepers. And suddenly the location of the other four pods made more sense. “Damn it…I knew something was up with sweets, but…”

“But?” Khivar prompted, his brows rising in question and feeling a little thrill that the were close to obtaining their goals and might just defeat The Council yet. All they had to do was get their hands on Liz and the Granilith; they might be able to take down those corrupt bastards yet.

“I figured it was because she had been healed.” He admitted, his self-disgust evident in his tone and the set of his body, back and arms coiling with tension. He’d pulled a Zan, completely missing what was right in front of him. This wasn’t good. He was supposed to pay attention, be far more aware than this. “I didn’t realize she was…”

“One of us?” his companion finished, thinly veiled dark humor coloring his tone. It certainly explained a lot about her status in the group as well as both kings’ draw to her, not to mention Rath’s obsession as well. At least Michael’s and Rath draw was explainable given their heritage.

“Makes sense actually,” Rath agreed, growing pensive and quiet for a moment as the information set in and he quickly assessed all the signs that should have pointed him in this direction a long time ago. In particular, the flavor of her power and the fact that Duke hovered over her obsessively. “Jesus, she’s part Antarian. The imprint was always there. Max didn’t change her, he awakened her.”

[Ashita]

AN: So this isn't based on any prompt or related to the other drabbles/vignettes posted thus far. It's actually an excerpt to a series of shorts I have in the works called Spoils of War (if interested, you can find more information on my author's page ) and I use a truncated version of this scene as a flashback. I nicely ended it at the first kiss, but my beta wanted more, so this is for you Whims. Don't get mad at me if it ends in an evil place, you've been warned. lol!
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Out in the Cold

“You cold?” his whispered, shuffling across the cold, hard-packed ground towards her as she huddled into her jacket, the freezing, winter air wrapping around them. She rubbed her hands along her jacket, trying to rub life back into them and her stiff fingers.

“A little,” she murmured, her breath frosting as she sighed softly, thankful their shift was near the end and she could slip back into the compound for a hot shower and warm bed. Maybe even a shot of brandy to help chase the never-ending chill from inside for a few hours.

“Come here,” he offered quietly, reaching over and tugging on her sleeve, pulling her over to the cradle of his body gently. Situating her between his legs, he tucked her into his chest and wrapped his arms around her waist, sharing his own body heat to chase the chill away.

Leaning back into his chest, she shifted slightly so she could rest her face against the firm wall and sighed once more, reveling in his proximity, his scent of sandalwood and earth teasing her senses. Smiling contentedly, she rested her hand over his heart, taking comfort in its steady thrumming.

“Better?” he asked softly, the hint of a smile in his voice as his arms tightened around her reflexively, his cheek resting against the back of her head.

“Mmm hmmmm,” she murmured, tipping her head back to meet his soft gaze, sucking in a surprised breath at the heat burning in their depths. Licking her lips unconsciously, her heart sped up and lips parting, an answering rush of heat pulsed through her body as his eyes became dark and desire laden. “Michael…”

“Liz…” he murmured helplessly, dipping his head hesitantly, hovering over her lips as if he expected her to pull or turn away at any moment. He swallowed thickly, throat convulsing as his eyes danced over her face in question. Holding his gaze, she leaned up until their lips were millimeters apart. Rasping breaths mingling, she wound her fingers into his jacket and used it to pull her self the remaining distance, sighing when their lips brushed together softly, in a sweet, barely there caress.

Pulling back, she stared at him, her heart pounding as she waited to see if he would protest or push her away; a fear that went groundless as he groaned and delving his hands into her hair, crushed his lips to hers, swiping his tongue over her bottom lip and claimed her mouth fully when her lips parted invitingly. Swirling his tongue into her mouth, he sat back against the wall and dragged her into his lap, her legs draped on either side of his hips.

Tangling his fingers further into silky, espresso strands, he drank her down, lips and tongues tangling together feverishly as they gave into the simmering desire that had been escalating over the past year. Fingers digging into her waist, he jerked her roughly to him, grunting when denim scraped against straining denim.

Gasping against his lips, Liz wove her fingers into tangled, sandy waves, her fingers digging into his scalp as she ground her hips against him, sending electricity crackling along her nerves and heat building to an almost painful level in her core. Dragging his bottom lip between her teeth, she gave it a playful nip, smiling when he growled and retaliated, dragging her head back to expose her neck, scraping blunt teeth over her pulse.

Latching onto the vanilla-scented skin greedily, he rumbled with pleasure when her hands slid under his shirt, sliding up over his chest, teasing firm flesh and sinew before wrapping around to splay across his back. Slipping his hands into her jacket, he toyed with the edge of her shirt, teasing the sliver of skin where it met the edge of her jeans before sliding callused palms over silky skin and cupping her breasts, scraping a thumb over pebbled flesh.

“Michael…” she rasped, arching slightly, her head falling back as she purred in the back of her throat and pressed the soft mound of flesh firmly into his hand. Inhaling sharply when he pinched the rigid flesh softly, she raked her nails over his back to cup his ass and sunk her nails into firm muscles, rocking harshly against his erection, her blood pounding through her veins like liquid fire.

"Mmmm...God, Liz...baby...you gotta stop that otherwise I won't be able to hold back," Michael moaned helplessly, digging his fingers into her hips and pressing her firmly against them as he ground into her core. Breathing labored, fire shot over his skin as she rocked against him in response, their mouths melting together, setting off a nuclear explosion of desire ricocheting through his body.

Hissing as her nails dug into his shoulders, he ripped his mouth from hers momentarily, fumbling with the button on her jeans, tearing them open and slid his hand into the front to cup her sex, gliding his fingers over the hot, slick flesh, the scent of her arousal teasing his nose.

"Ah...God, you're so wet," he ground out painfully, sucking air into his lungs desperately before devouring her mouth once more, thrusting his tongue between her lips and tangling with hers wantonly. Sliding a finger into her core, he stroked the tight, wet walls experimentally, testing her responsiveness and groaned when the muscles clamped around his finger, sucking it deeper into her depths. “So hot and tight.”

Stroking her a couple more times, he was about to toss her onto her back and take her then and there when the sound of voices ripped through their sensual cocoon. Staring as hazy, sable eyes cleared and a hand flew to red, passion swollen lips, he cursed under his breath, panting raggedly as she flew out of his arms and put herself back together hastily.

Eyes clashing once more, she scrambled up, spooked, molten chocolate melding with frustrated caramel and she drew a sharp breath at the fire still raging under the surface. Tearing her gaze away, she stumbled out of concealment, all but running to the compound as if the hounds of hell were at her heels.

Biting back an oath, Michael tipped his head back, dragging his hands through his hair with agitation, his body still tight and thrumming with unrequited desire. Glaring at the entering sentries, he clambered to his feet and shoved past them without so much as a greeting, storming off in the opposite direction to work off some of his frustration before heading back.

[Ashita]

Vow

“Are you trying to drive me crazy?” Michael grated as he stormed into the room, fixing its occupant with an exasperated gaze as she dragged a brush through her sable locks. Towering over his favorite obsession the past few weeks, he met simmering espresso eyes in the mirror, his lips thinning when she looked away dismissively.

“Yes, Michael,” Liz mocked, grabbing a clip and securing her hair to the top of her head before grabbing a small bottle of lotion and smoothing the thick cream over her hands and face. Reaching for a tube of lip balm, she took a dab on her finger and spread it over her lips lightly, continuing with her nightly ritual as if there wasn’t a highly agitated, half-dressed man standing behind her. “Every morning I wake up and think to myself, how can I possibly irritate Michael today?”

“Don’t be a smart ass,” he ground out, his chest heaving as delicate warm vanilla wafted in the air, making his nose flare as he bit back frustrated groan. That scent haunted him at night. Crossing his arms over his chest, he flicked brooding bourbon eyes over the petite brunette and fought the urge to yank her from her chair and press her against his body. Focusing on the matter at hand, he growled. “What is with blowing me off tonight?”

“What does it matter?” She baited, raising piqued chocolate orbs to his momentarily as she released her hair and shook it out slightly, before rising from her chair to put some distance between her and the irate king. Inhaling sharply when he caged her in against a tall chest of drawers and blocked her escape, her heart began a rhythmic thrumming as weary chocolate met glowing whiskey. “What do you want Michael? I can’t seem to do anything to please you lately.”

Breathing deeply, Michael clenched his fists as he finally noticed her state of dress, or undress as it were, as the cool, blue silk of her robe brushed against his skin. Hissing, he stepped away and turned from her, his back coiling with tension, desire curling through his body as he husked under his breath. “You please me far too much.”

“What?” she asked breathlessly, leaning against the dresser to support her suddenly weak knees and watching him contemplatively, her brow pinched slightly in confusion, wondering if she had heard him right.

“Nothing,” he muttered, body tightening further as the rustling of silk against bare, golden skin caught his ear and imprinted an enticing visual of her spread beneath him into his head. So maybe confronting her in her room had a bad idea, but that’s not surprising. He could rarely think straight when it came to her these days. Biting back a groan, he shoved a hand through his hair and strode toward the door.

“No, what did you mean by that?” she asked hastily, grabbing his arm to stop his retreat, swinging him to face her, aware that confronting him was akin to poking a caged panther, but curious as to his softly spoken words. Words she knew he never intended her to overhear.

“You really don’t want to pursue that, Liz,” he replied tightly, breathing harsh and labored, his carefully constructed wall crumbling around him as the scent of vanilla and rain teased his senses and soft fingers dug into his arm lightly. He needed to get out of there fast before he did something he’d regret – like pushing her up against the wall and…no, he wasn’t going to even think it.

“And what if I do?” she pressed, tightening her hold on him, her heart thundering in her ears as their eyes caught and held, her breath catching as whiskey-tinted fire rained over her skin. Drawing back slightly, her lips parted and she watched him through her lashes like a doe evaluating a predator, throat convulsing as she swallowed thickly.

“You might get more than you bargained for,” he promised darkly, stepping into her warningly, his chest nearly pressed against hers, watching her with smoldering caramel irises, only mildly surprised when she refused to back down.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she whispered, her tongue flitting out to wet parched lips, pressing back, heart stuttering as his warm, damp breath fanned over her face, keeping her gaze anchored with his.

“You should be,” he rasped, reaching up to cup the back of her neck, a callused thumb brushing over her thrumming pulse, a flash of heat rippling through his veins as she quaked under his caress. Stroking her skin softly, he tugged on the tie of her robe and pulled her deeper into his body, breathing shallowly as their lips hovered a breath apart.

“My Lord?” A low voice called from the door nervously as the servant kept her eyes averted and flushed uncomfortably to have intruded on such a private moment. “The Council wishes to speak with you.”

“I’ll be there in a moment,” he responded in a low, controlled tone, keeping his eyes melded with the woman in front of him. Inhaling deeply, he closed his eyes briefly as the intoxicating scent he could only name Liz filled his senses and pressed his lips to her ear, vowing. “One of these days, it’s going to be just you and me, no buffers, no interruptions and no where to hide.”

“Is that a threat?” she murmured, her lips whispering against his neck as his fingers tangled into the hair at the base of her neck and he pressed her tightly to him for a brief moment before he released her with a soft groan.

“It’s a guarantee,” he grunted, cursing the Council’s untimely interference as he strode out the door to fulfill his duties, leaving the petite brunette watching him in breathless silence.

[Ashita]

AN: This drabble developed through an e-mail exchange with my lovely beta, who seems to get a kick out of egging my over productive muse on and it resulted not only in this drabble but three others. Evil wench. We''ll just say that, in this episode, Michael seriously needs to work off some frustration and leave it at that. suukan = 2 week period
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Cower

Michael glowered at the men standing in a line before him, nervously watching their general pace back and forth as he inspected each of them carefully, flicking cool, uncompromising whiskey eyes over the lot. He’d been in a foul mood since two nights hence when the two sentries stumbled onto him and Liz, and spending half the night blowing things up had done nothing to quench the gnawing ache in his body or the burning need to inflict bodily damage on the ones responsible for that ache.

Turning his gaze toward his quarry, he pressed his lips into a thin line, a cold fire burning in dark bourbon irises and walked slowly in their direction, halting directly in front of the recent recruits. Fixing each with a moue of displeasure, he nearly snickered when an almost audible sigh of relief passed down the line as the others realized they’d escaped his wrath.

At least for today.

It was whispered through the ranks that only the suicidal or rash challenged the general, especially when he was in a dark mood and each man feared being called out to face him on those particular days. It never ended well for any man facing the primal warlord unleashed when the tall alien was less than pleased.

Flicking his eyes back over the line, he frowned at the others, letting them know they were far from his good graces despite not being called out to spar with him. With the mood he was in, he doubted he’d work out his demons in this one session alone and his look let them know that anyone of them could be next. These two might be currently in his cross hairs for interrupting the claiming of his queen, but it didn’t have to end there.

So close. They’d been so close to completing that bond before these bumbling fools made enough noise to wake the dead and sent Liz scurrying for the hills. He hadn’t been able to get near her for the past two days, pushing his frustration to even greater heights.

Turning back to the two sentries deliberately, he stared at the them coldly and bit back a smirk as each man avoided his hard gaze, preferring to stare over his shoulder as they shifted nervously, the younger of the two swallowing harshly at his unrelenting inspection. Rubbing his hands against each other slightly, he tucked them behind his back and rocked back on his heels, an icy mask sliding over his features as his eyes flicked between the two men.

He was going to enjoy this.

“You two are with me,” he commanded in a low, dangerous tone that brooked no further arguments from the cowering men in front of him, a frosty smirk finally cracking his blank facade as they swayed uncertainly, flicking worried eyes his direction before darting away.

“General?” the younger recruit queried weakly, his blue eyes flicking to Michael’s stony face once more, his chest heaving slightly as a trickle of unease snaked down his spine.

“Did I stutter, soldier? I said you two are with me,” Michael intoned, his implacable gaze boring into the other man and he cocked a rancorous brow as he towered over him, eyeing him until sweat beaded his forehead. “Do you have any arguments?”

“N-no sir,” the other man stammered, throat convulsing as he stared over Michael’s shoulder and saluted the man in front of him.

“Good. Get your weapons,” Michael bit out coldly, walking to the edge of the sparring field. Ripping off his tunic, he grabbed a leather tie and pulled the shoulder-length waves out of his face, then set about strapping his weapons on his body methodically. Facing the rest of the line, he cocked his brow mockingly and gestured for them to get to it. “The rest of you practice maneuvers, hand to hand, with weapons and your respective powers.”

The sentries looked at each other terrified and swallowed visibly, wondering what they’d done to warrant the stoic man’s scrutiny, but swiftly grabbed their weapons, getting ready to face their general. Both had a feeling this was going to be a long day.

“I told you we interrupted something,” the young recruit murmured to his companion, swallowing hard as Michael, having heard the comment, narrowed his gaze and frowned at him.

Stepping back onto the field, he studied each of them thoughtfully, quickly assessing their abilities having worked with them for several weeks and pointed at the younger, mouthier recruit while tossing his sword aside. He was going to enjoy pounding on him in particular. Centering himself as the other man discarded his weapon, he clenched his fists and set about planning his attack.

The two men circled each other, watching the other warily, searching for weaknesses. Finding a hole in the other man’s defense, Michael’s fist shot out, catching him in the ribs with a crunching blow, followed by a swift swipe of his foot, knocking him to the ground.

Pulling back, as the recruit rebounded, jumping to his feet swiftly, he kicked out, trying to catch the other man’s chest as he rose and staggered when the blow was blocked, dropping to his knees to avoid the fist flying at him, landing another shattering blow to the recruits ribs.

Leaping to his feet, he landed two more hits, one to the jaw and the other to his back as he grabbed the other man’s arm and sent him flying to his knees. Pursuing his victim as he scurried to his feet, he grunted when the man caught him in the ribs with a swift roundhouse and knocked him to the ground. Rolling to his back, he struck out with his foot, catching the recruit in the knee.

Feeding off the adrenaline and frustrated anger coursing through his blood, Michael popped up and sent off a flurry of blows and well placed kicks on his quarry, landing most, missing others and grunting occasionally when the recruit managed to breach his defenses.

Tired of toying with his combatant, he launched himself at the other man slamming his fist into his already bruised ribs, smirking when the recruit grunted and doubled over and ended with swift upper cut to his jaw, knocking him to the ground.

The other man tried to stand, but gave up when the world spun sickly and held out his hands in surrender, wheezing and seeing stars every time he drew breath. Flopping onto his back, he swiped a hand over his bloodied mouth and groaned, knowing when he was beaten.

Picking up his sword, Michael turned to the other sentry and gave a mocking bow, waiting for the other man to join him on the field, oblivious to the audience they’d drawn. Barely giving the man a chance to arm, he charged, sword slicing through the air between them, meeting steel with a resounding clang.

Chests glistening in the sunlight, heaving with exertion the combatants exchanged blow for blow, turning, dipping, weaving, parrying and crouching in an intricate dance as they traveled the field. Each swipe met with a clang of steel, each thrust with a grunt and scramble, until muscles coiled with trembling tension and Michael obtained the upper hand, his quarry neatly outmatched.

Sensing his victim’s exhaustion, Michael, gave one last thrust sending the other man’s center off balance and spun around with a vicious kick to the arm, disarming him. Another swift kick to the gut sent the man flying to the ground, grunting on impact and where he lay stunned, the air ripped from his lungs.

Michael stalked over to the unarmed, defenseless guard and stood over him breathing heavily, watching him coolly as he pressed the tip of his sword against his neck. Opening his mouth to speak, he paused when movement caught the corner of his eye and he felt a familiar hum of energy. Keeping the point leveled at the guard’s neck, he turned and met Liz’s fiery, chocolate gaze and dared her to try to stop him.

Eyes clashing, he drew a deep breath when she licked her lips nervously, her gaze drifting over his bared chest and he felt her heart speed up as desire crashed through her body, sending an echoing trill of heat through his own. Smiling smugly, he ripped his gaze from hers and flicked them back to the unfortunate man pinned to the ground. Pulling the tip of his sword away from his neck , he drove the sword into the ground next to the soldier and stepped away.

“Davin, make sure they get an extra hour of practice each day,” he commanded as he turned to his second and sauntered towards the edge of the field where the half-Dalerian, half-Earthling stood, scooping up his shirt on his way. Keeping his gaze leveled on Liz, he stopped to further address his assistant. “At the rate we’re going, we’ll be dead in a suukan.”

[Ashita]

Counter

Keeping his gaze leveled with crackling coffee-colored irises, Michael strode over to Liz’s lookout, coming to a standstill at her side, flicking predatory amber eyes over her stiff posture and smirked when she stepped back warily, her tongue flitting over lips once more. Stepping into her body, brow cocked in challenge, he bit back a grin as her breath quickened and he studied her silently, tempted to toss her over his shoulder and drag her back to his suite to finish what they’d started the other night.

Meeting her eyes once more, their gazes held for several tense moments as both recalled those stolen kisses that had left them both wanting before he flung his tunic over his shoulder and sauntered away. After two days of frustrated attempts to talk to her on his part, she could chase him instead.

“What was that all about?” She huffed, stalking after him and grabbing his arm, dragging him to the side, out of his men’s sight. Pushing a stray molasses strand behind her ear impatiently, she tipped her chin defiantly and stood in his path, hands on her hips.

“Oh, now you want to talk to me?” he asked with feigned surprise, cocking an impatient brow and crossed his arms over his chest as he fixed her with a harassed expression, rocking back on heels. He had been spoiling for a fight for the past two days and looked as if she was finally going to give it to him. “After freezing me out for two days? To what do I owe this happenstance?”

“Don’t change the subject, Michael,” she warned softly, cocking her head to the side, imitating his stance and huffed when he snorted, dipping his head mockingly for her to continue. Cheeks flushing with temper, she pointed toward the two guards still trying to regain their breath. “What the hell was all that?”

“We were sparring. We do it same time every day,” he shrugged dismissively, shaking his head slightly as he walked around her and headed back to the citadel, biting back a smirk as she followed. “You should know that by now.”

“That was not sparring, Michael,” she hissed, scurrying to keep up with his long strides as they entered some trees surrounding the encampment. Speeding up, she stepped into his path again, placing a hand on his chest to halt his advance, shivering slightly as the slick, hot skin slid under hers. Swallowing thickly, her breath caught as the muscles tensed under her hand and he pinned her with a blatantly hungry look as their bodies pressed together. Struggling to breathe, her eyes darted away nervously as she continued weakly. “That was you beating the hell out of them? What is your problem?”

“Nothing. They’re soldiers,” he grated, clenching his hands to keep from grabbing her and brushed past her once more. No way was he going to take her against her will and she’d made it pretty obvious by her avoidance of him that it would be. “They need to be in tip top shape because the enemy is not going to pat them on the back and say better luck next time. They’ll be twice as vicious, twice as bloody and will show no mercy. At least, right now, they’re still breathing.”

“Barely,” she spat, her irritation growing as he continued to ignore her. He’d been touchy ever since they’d been interrupted the other night and she knew she hadn’t helped by avoiding him, but damn it, she needed to think things through and she couldn’t do that with him hovering over her. It was impossible to have a coherent thought when he was around. Unable to keep up with his swift pace, she came to a stand still and taunted. “I know what this is about.”

“You do?” he halted his forward movement, freezing in his paces for a few seconds before spinning on his heel slightly to look over his shoulder, fixing her with an unreadable face. “Well then why don’t you inform me Miss Know It All, what is this about?”

“This is about the other night,” she stated boldly, breath shallow and heart pounding as she saw something dangerous flicker in cool, whiskey eyes but held her ground and walked until she stood toe-to-toe with him.

“Whatever,” he bit out dismissively, shaking his head and turned away once more, suddenly tired of fighting with her. Staring off into space, he ran a weary hand over his face and made to walk once more when her voice stopped him.

“No whatever about it,” she rasped softly and licked her lips nervously, watching his back steadily. Dipping her head to stare at her hands, she blushed and shifted uncomfortably when he turned around, silently studying her face with thinly veiled heat. “Don’t think I don’t know that they were our replacements when we…when things…the other night. I saw them.”

“Well that’s a shock,” he muttered bitterly, looking to the side, trying to focus on anything other than the soft, tantalizing scent of vanilla teasing his nose and making his mouth water for another taste of honeyed lips. Throat convulsing, he drew a breath and turned back, his mask back in place. “I’m amazed you noticed anything as you hightailed it back to the compound as if the devil himself was after you.”

“It’s not their fault, Michael,” Liz pointed out, meeting his cool gaze and worrying her bottom lip, running an equally weary hand through disheveled ebony tresses. She was so tired of fighting what he made her feel. There was nothing wrong with wanting him, they were betraying no one. Placing a hand on his chest, she stroked the skin softly, breath hitching as the desire simmering in the background erupted, sending a trill of need spiraling through her body. “You can’t punish them because they interrupted and you’re frustrated.”

“Well I didn’t see you offering to do anything about it,” he rasped darkly, his breath quickening as her hand ran over his chest lightly and he stepped into her unconsciously, trapping her hand against his hammering heart. Hope thrummed through his body as she stepped closer to him, sliding her other hand along waist to splay on his lower back.

“Maybe all you have to do is ask,” she whispered hoarsely, her lips parting, heart beating in sync with his as brandy eyes darkened and danced over her face questioningly.

“Not really the asking sort, Parker,” he grunted. Sliding the hand covering his heart to his shoulder, he snaked his arm around her waist and yanked her against him, whispering as he captured her lips roughly and pressed her against the tree behind her. “I just take what I want.”