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Anton chuckled and averted his eyes, looking somewhat embarrassed. “To be successful in business, one needs to recognize what people truly want and what motivates them. And then you either cater to it or thwart it.” He paused, his lips parting and eyes widening as if suddenly struck by an idea. “You know, the Tuureans could become your greatest allies. They are settling a whole new planet for the Veredians since their home world has been destroyed by a solar storm. This could open the door to many trade opportunities for Braxia. You should take advantage of Ravena’s stay to broach the subject with her.”
I shifted on my seat, perking up at that possibility. Although I’d never admit it, I was growing desperate to find a solution for Braxia. A civil war would end us. If I believed for one minute one of my rivals could turn the tide for us and bring my home world back to its former glory, I’d abdicate in a heartbeat. For all its flaws and backward ways, I loved Braxia and would see her rise again.
“Would she welcome such conversations? You who gauge people so well, what are her motivations? What does she want?” I asked.
Anton stared me straight in the eyes. “Her motivation is redemption and making amends for the wrongs her father and brother have wrought on the Veredians. But what she truly wants… is you.”
Chapter 4
Mercy
The Goddess had one messed up sense of humor. After forty-nine years of existence, she finally puts my soulmate in my path, and he turned out to be the fucking Magnar of Braxia. What was she thinking? Of all the species to mate into, his was worse than Guldans. But the tingle of the Tuning couldn’t be denied. The minute I’d entered the room, needles had pricked my nape, the sensation only growing in strength as I approached Ravik. Too many of my Veredian Sisters had described the phenomenon for me not to recognize it for what it was. This psychic trait manifested whenever one was in the presence of the one other being in the entire universe that had been created for them.
And the Magnar was the most magnificent beast I had ever laid eyes upon.
My beast.
Just thinking of that mountain of a man and his fearsome face had me weak in the knees, and throbbing with need. Despite my height, the top of my head barely reached his shoulders. His biceps were bigger than my head, and his large, callused hands could crush my spine without effort. And yet, it had taken all of my willpower not to throw myself on him and lick, one-by-one, every single bulging vein that criss-crossed his muscular arms.
Why the fuck did he have to be the Magnar? With my irreverent nature, I was bound to create some kind of diplomatic incident. Thankfully, he hadn’t taken offense to my earlier banter. I couldn’t help my flirty and taunting ways. Sure, I could try to curb those tendencies, but if anything were to work out between us, he needed to know the real me; impertinent, sarcastic, unrepentant, and cocky.
The question was, did I actually want this to work? I wasn’t, and never would be, the submissive type. No man would ever—could ever—control me. No society would ever enchain me. At forty-nine, I was too old to change; not that I’d want to. From my reading about Braxia, the Magnar would be one year older than I, raised by the most intolerant, backwards thinking man in the Eastern Quadrant. How could we ever possibly have a harmonious relationship? And Braxia? I’d just found my family who lived on the other side of the galaxy. I didn’t want to part from them again.
Why couldn’t he have been a hybrid? From the first time I’d laid eyes on Anton, I’d known my mate would likely have Braxian blood. After I’d sorted things out with my father’s inheritance, Varrek’s clients list, and freed my younger sisters, I’d planned on taking a trip to this Quadrant’s Haven. The sanctuary planet was home to various species, including many half-breed Braxians who had fled the persecution against them on their home world. I’d hoped to find myself a nice male, who shared the human values of the local population, which promoted acceptance and gender equality.
The clip-clop of Grace’s insanely high heels drew me out of my musing. After a quick shower in the guest bedroom that had been assigned to me, I’d put on one of the dresses I’d bought during our little shopping spree. Like me, Ravik had black hair, obsidian eyes, and seemed to like dressing in dark colors. I’d initially planned on wearing a black dress again, but Grace had insisted on me wearing a short, backless, white dress that flattered my coppery complexion. While comfortable with heels, I’d refused to wear the sky-high stilettos she’d suggested. Nevertheless, the silver sandals I settled on had respectably high heels.
At Grace’s request, once dressed, I went to her room so she could fix my hair. She made an elaborate bun that wouldn’t hide my exposed back. Next, she wanted me to wear one of her pairs of earrings.
Sitting at the elegant vanity in the left corner of the room, I watched her reflection through the mirror as she made her way to an imposing dark wood dresser. It occupied a large section of the wall at the right of the massive bed, also built with dark wood. Grace rummaged through the top drawer, which contained a large collection of jewelry. I shifted on a cushioned stool while glancing around the room. Elegant and sparingly decorated, the light grey walls made it look even more spacious. But the walls, which also served as giant screens, held my attention. Currently, they’d been set to resemble windows looking out into luxuriant gardens from the exotic planet Kigamot Sek.
“These are just perfect!” Grace said, returning to me with the precious baubles cradled in her palm.
Each earring consisted of a large, tear-shaped Pleusian pearl, artistically wrapped in a silver coil which spiraled around it. She hooked them in my pierced earlobes, then took a step back to admire her work.
“Up, up,” she said, waving her hands for me to rise from my seat.
I complied, my heels making me tower over her even more. She bit her plump, bottom lip, painted in the same blood red as her nails, and gave me an appreciative once over.
“Ravik is going to swallow his tongue when he sees you,” she said with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “You’re smoking hot even without makeup!”
My face heated. I was aware of my own beauty and never cared much for makeup aside from the occasional lipstick or lip gloss. And tonight I wanted Ravik to see me, not artifices to enhance me.
Coming from one as stunning as she was, the compliment felt even more flattering. She had not been at all what I’d expected. Beautiful females marrying wealthy, unattractive men—by ‘normal’ standards—were often social climbers or cold-hearted bitches. Grace was sweet, always eager to help—and to please—and genuinely appreciative of any act of kindness or display of friendship. She was easy to love.
She lured me in front of the mirror to admire her handiwork. The white dress was deceptively demure, tying around my neck in the back like a halter dress. The nude back cut so low it could have been taken straight from the Guldan traditional Free Woman dress. Despite the mid-thigh length of the skirt, it still had slits on each side, almost up to my hips. My exposed arms and legs flaunted my Veredian markings. Grace had twisted some strands of my hair, wrapping them around my head like a crown and knotting the rest into a bun.
“How in the world did you manage to make my hair hold like that with only two long pins?” I asked, amazed by her masterful work.
“When you are married to a man who wants quick and easy access to everything, you learn some tricks. Anton loves my hair down,” she said, twirling a reddish-brown lock of it. “He only agrees to me having buns because he can undo them by pulling out a single pin. But yours is way too long to get away with just one.”
Grace turned around, the flowy skirt of her red Grecian dress swirling around her. The long slit on her right side gave a glimpse of her shapely leg with each step. Cinched at the waist, the chest consisted of two straps of luxurious fabric covering each breast in a plunging neckline.
“Let’s go mess with the men’s heads,” Grace said with a giggle, leading the way to the living room.
I followed in her wake, my heart fluttering in anticipation of Ravik’s reaction. The men rose to their feet upon our entrance. Anton purred, a smoldering look descending upon his features as he gazed upon his mate. Grace blossomed under his approving gaze and walked up to him, her hips swaying. Anton wrapped an arm around her, his hand resting on her behind as he pressed her against him and captured her lips in a searing kiss.
Ravik’s onyx eyes burned right through me, his thick lips twisting in a half-snarl. The naked hunger on his face had my inner walls clenching and my skin heating. He prowled towards me, his tight shirt hugging his bulging chest muscles that rippled with each movement.
