Page 89 of 20% Stud 80% Muffin
Makir traced his forefinger over his mating mark, then mine. “I’ve always wanted one of these.” His lashes dipped when he glanced at me, and I brushed my thumb over his jawline. “But we haven’t even met my nephew yet.”
“Yeah, well, no offense, but let’s get the little guy named so we can be on our way. I’m not a huge fan of Lorne so far.”
“You haven’t even been out of the arrival port.” Makir slipped off my softened cock and out of my arms and stood, luxuriously stretching his stunning body before he pulled me to my feet. “I’m going to change your mind.” His lips twisted up on one side, and his eyes sparkled. “My home planet is beautiful.”
He pushed me toward the washroom in the room we’d been trapped in until his heat passed. I walked around a desk and chair that had gone unnoticed until now.
“Go have a shower and get dressed, and I’ll give you a tour. My nephew must be named by now. We can meet him and be on our way by evening’s light.” His eyes glowed even brighter at the mention of the baby.
I called out to Makir as I scrubbed soap over my body. “What’s this room used for normally?”
He passed me a towel as I climbed over the tall ledge of the shower stall. “Interrogations, mainly.” He shrugged and cast his gaze to the ground. Embarrassment swelled along the tether, hot and reluctant. “We’ll avoid my parents, but I really want to show you my special place.”
His desire to show me the best of his planet spiraled through the tether, replacing his embarrassment.
My fingertips twisted with his for a moment before I gathered my clothes. I would give him whatever he wanted. “Show me the Lorne you love, but if I never see the regents again, I’ll consider myself a lucky man.”
Makir’s eyes danced as he tapped a message into his wristport. “I’ll arrange transportation for us.”
“Make sure that jackass Tunt is not our pilot for the return trip,” I growled.
Makir bent to kiss my nose. “Anything for you.”
Janny tipped his chin in deference to Makir as we departed the interrogation room, guarding him from a respectful distance. I had no doubt that was a request from Bonic rather than the regents. After the quiet room we’d spent Makir’s heat in, the spaceport on Lorne buzzed with an intensity I hadn’t experienced since trying to find parking at a mall during Christmas.
The spaceport was enormous. A tiny shuttle, possibly big enough for two, buzzed beside us and landed as we walked. A hangar droid pushed it underneath a massive, sleek shuttle before the passengers, a species I didn’t know, disembarked. All kinds of spaceships landed and launched, making conversation impossible.
Lornians and Tigs rushed to and fro with their luggage. Bright and loud, small bots filled the cavernous hangar, aiding with maintenance, offering glassesof something red—hiscus? Maps hovered over their heads when approached by visitors seeking directions.
Makir wrapped his slender fingers around my jaw, gently scratched my beard as he pushed my mouth closed. “We haven’t even left the port yet, and you’re acting like a tourist.” His amusement zinged through the link.
Curved doors swooshed open under an enormous banner announcing: Lorne, Home of the Lyre Tree. Transparent buildings clad in long, glass-like sheets blended into towering cliffs that flanked a long U-shaped valley on both sides, turning them nearly invisible. A cool breeze laden with fresh citrus invited my lungs to inhale. When I cast my gaze up, an ivory sun belted with bronze, copper and gold rings cast its shimmering light high overhead.
“Damn, Makir, this is…” I squeezed his hand.
Makir led us to a much slicker hovercraft than the one he owned on Tern, but he piloted it with the same ease. Contentment hummed through the tether, and I pulled his hips back along the shared seat, nestling them against mine, wanting as much contact as possible.
The giant valley opened below us as we lifted off the ground. Bright rainbow meadows, not unlike the tulip fields in Holland, and vast expanses of towering turquoise trees blurred by.
“Now I can see why you were so happy to find lamar,” I shouted so the words weren’t blown away.
Makir nodded vigorously, his mane whipping in my face. “Lornian dwellings are bathed in light, but none compare to the beautiful windows you created for me.”
Our full bond pulsed with sincerity, and I ran a finger over the back of Makir’s pointed ear before clenching my thighs around his, sloppily braiding his mane and tucking it under his collar.
“My dwelling.” Makir slowed his hovercraft as we coasted through a long archway formed by the reaching arms of the lyre tree that led to an entrance flanked by half a dozen elite protectors.
‘Dwelling’ was a dramatically inadequate word for the palatial tower rising above us, the sunlight casting the lamar cladding entirely in bronze.
“Holy shit.” I’m mated to royalty. Nerves reared their ugly heads as we passed Bonic’s men, heads tilted in deference, and my palm grew sweaty against Makir’s.
He purred as we entered a courtyard, loosening my shoulders, and soft grass cushioned my steps.
Jast squealed, rushing toward Makir and crushing him in her arms. “Congratulations! I’m sorry I missed the ceremony. I heard it will go down in history books.” She beamed at me and hugged me too. “Welcome to the High Hold of Tuniga, Geo.”
Shit, shit, shit! I hadn’t thought this through. Royalty. No way, I couldn’t be. I was a construction worker, for fuck’s sake.
A soft gurgle drew Makir’s attention to Bonic and Jast’s baby, but my gaze froze on the new grandparents sitting beside where Bonic had their newborn cradled in his lap. His father gazed adoringly from his rather distant perch while his mother stared straight ahead, spine stiff, examining one of the courtyard’s columns. They sat on elaborately decorated cushions on a large rug emblazoned with a huge beast—the same beast that adorned the royal uniform’s high collar.
