"My Lord." A guard was shouting outside their door. "My Lord Kodiak."
Someone began pounding on the door. "My Lord, please."
He was awake, leaning against pillows, reading the flexies Beka had pulled earlier in the day. She lay sleeping at his side. He was pleased that she could sleep through the hullabaloo. The first clue that he was mistaken was a vice like grip on his genitals. The second was the muffled sentence, "Get rid of them, Tyr."
He tried to detach her hand. She squeezed harder. This was an aspect of intimacy with Beka that he had never considered. "Beka," he whispered seductively, "I can not stop the noise if you do not let go."
She released her grip, but not before seductively stroking the part of him that she considered her own. He took the caress as it was intended as an apology. "That is a promise I expect you to keep, when the noise has subsided." He placed a kiss at the nape of her neck.
"My Lord." The plea was desperate. "Please, my Lord, open the door."
"I am coming," he bellowed. "Stop that noise, my wife is sleeping."
Beka smiled into her pillow. His bellow was enough to wake the dead. He got points for consideration, but lost them on execution. Beka was on her stomach, the position in which their last expression of intimacy had ended. She had not changed position, knowing that sleeping on her stomach would soon be impossible. She was pregnant and the father was Tyr Anasazi, the Alpha Kodiak, perhaps the most sought after Nietzschean Alpha in the universe. She had been unaware that her life was about to change irrevocably, sixteen years ago, when he stood in the door of the Andromeda Gauss gun erect, bone blades at alert, a package of testosterone so intense that momentarily she forgot the danger in which she was.
"Have you regretted that moment, Kodiak?" she whispered to the pillow.
On the way to open the door, Tyr had drawn the curtain across the foot of the bed. The small gesture gave her the privacy she needed to cover her nakedness with the robe that he had tossed across the bed.
When she emerged, covered and curious, she discovered Tyr, wearing only his leathers, hands on his hips, glaring angrily at a dozen women of various shapes and sizes. Peeping out from amongst them was Harper, looking sheepish. The women were dressed in a dazzling array of silks and satins. In their hands they held boxes and baskets. Their chatter was incessant and, now that the doors were open, very loud. Beka waved at Tamerlane, standing heads above them all at the back of the pack. He shrugged as if to say he would not accept the blame for the intrusion.
Beka wished that she could see Tyr's face. She was sure that exasperation and affection were vying for dominance. Tyr needed rescuing.
"Darling?" God where did that come from? "Tyr?" So engrossed was he in the chaos before him that he failed to respond.
Tamerlane waved, trying to direct his father's attention to Beka. He failed.
Beka put two fingers in her mouth and blew. The sharp blast caused the guards to bring their weapons into a defensive position. Harper looked past Tyr, who whipped around to identify the source of the sound. The woman fell silent as if on cue.
"Thank you." Beka smoothed her robe, then drew the belt about her waist tighter.
"Darling?" She strode to Tyr's side, placing her hand on his arm. "Why don't you invite our guests in?" She stepped back, bringing Tyr into line with a gentle tug on his arm. As the crowd poured in she tugged on Tyr's arm so that he brought his ear down to her mouth. "Tyr, go change into something more appropriate for receiving guests, please." He raised an eyebrow, then strolled to the wardrobe, retrieving articles of clothing. He winked at her just before entering the bathroom.
Tamerlane sauntered over to her. "Mother, I can explain."
"No explanation is necessary, Tamerlane. This is extremely Harperesque." She grinned. "Would you please find some more chairs for our guests and order some refreshments."
"My pleasure," said the reincarnation of Drago Museveni, taking on the role of butler as if born to it.
"Harper." The engineer cringed. He recognized her command voice, even though he had not been subject to it for nearly a decade.
"Jeez, Beka. They are a force of nature." Reading her body language, he forestalled the tirade, by beginning the introductions. "Captain Valentine, may I introduce you to some of my wives."
"Seamus."
From out of the indistinguishable crowd of feminine faces a voice rose. Beka recognized instantly the tone of a woman used to being in charge. She scanned the crowd. A ripple began as woman moved out of the way to allow someone to pass. Still she could not see the woman to whom they were deferring.
Beka turned to Harper, who held out is hand to a petite beauty, ten years older than he, who had emerged from the back of the crowd.
"Beka, this potent package or power and passion is my First Wife, Anna, out of Simone by Balthazar of the Sabra Pride."
Anna approached following closely behind a protruding stomach that seemed to be as large as she was. "Anna is due to give birth at any moment to our fifth child and the Harper clan's twenty-fifth child. I told her that she should rest quietly at home, but she insisted on congratulating you on the conception."
Harper put his arm protectively around the woman who had found the man inside the boy ten years before.
"Please, sit down. I have looked forward to making your acquaintance. Harper has spoken of you with such respect." Beka pulled a chair out for her guest.
"Thank you, Beka. But if I sit down I may never get up again. My time approaches rapidly." She took Beka's hands between her own.
"We wanted you to know that you are welcome to attend our prenatal classes, consult with our seamstresses and interior designers. We ask you to share with us the fitness classes that we hold every day for the pregnant wives." She released her grip. "Harper says that you have no female relatives to assist you with the adjustment to motherhood. Consider us your sisters as the Kodiak considers our husband his brother."
Tyr emerged from the bathroom at that precise moment. "Harper, how you ever managed to be chosen by such a generous beauty is beyond my comprehension." He kissed Anna on the cheek. "Take your lady home. I will entertain your less pregnant wives while Beka changes her attire. It appears that this afternoon will be dedicated to female business."
"Tyr, I wish you would stop reminding Anna that she could have done better. One day she may believe you and leave me. Then I would have to kill you." Tyr did not laugh. Harper meant it. "My apologies, Lord Engineer. And to you Anna, First Wife of the Lord Engineer. You chose more wisely than any would have believed."
The minutes later when Beka emerged from the bathroom, refreshed and dressed like the slipstream captain she was she stepped into a scene of overwhelming domesticity. Tamerlane was passing through the room with a tray of canapés in one hand and napkins in the other. Tyr was pouring tea, which was being passed to their guests, by what Beka presumed to be the most junior wife. Her loins heated. A man confidant enough to pour tea without believing it sapped his masculinity was arousing. She was pleased to see Tamerlane displayed the same nonchalance as his father.
Tyr poured the last cup of tea, then turned his attention to his wife. "Rebecca, you are radiant."
She felt radiant - fresh from the shower, after hours of unsurpassed intimacy with the man who held her heart, a baby growing in her womb, while her older child stood tall and healthy - any woman would be radiant.
A cloud of concern hovered on the horizon. Beka pushed it to the back of her mind. They would have to deal with it soon enough.
He was awake, leaning against pillows, reading the flexies Beka had pulled earlier in the day. She lay sleeping at his side. He was pleased that she could sleep through the hullabaloo. The first clue that he was mistaken was a vice like grip on his genitals. The second was the muffled sentence, "Get rid of them, Tyr."
He tried to detach her hand. She squeezed harder. This was an aspect of intimacy with Beka that he had never considered. "Beka," he whispered seductively, "I can not stop the noise if you do not let go."
She released her grip, but not before seductively stroking the part of him that she considered her own. He took the caress as it was intended as an apology. "That is a promise I expect you to keep, when the noise has subsided." He placed a kiss at the nape of her neck.
"My Lord." The plea was desperate. "Please, my Lord, open the door."
"I am coming," he bellowed. "Stop that noise, my wife is sleeping."
Beka smiled into her pillow. His bellow was enough to wake the dead. He got points for consideration, but lost them on execution. Beka was on her stomach, the position in which their last expression of intimacy had ended. She had not changed position, knowing that sleeping on her stomach would soon be impossible. She was pregnant and the father was Tyr Anasazi, the Alpha Kodiak, perhaps the most sought after Nietzschean Alpha in the universe. She had been unaware that her life was about to change irrevocably, sixteen years ago, when he stood in the door of the Andromeda Gauss gun erect, bone blades at alert, a package of testosterone so intense that momentarily she forgot the danger in which she was.
"Have you regretted that moment, Kodiak?" she whispered to the pillow.
On the way to open the door, Tyr had drawn the curtain across the foot of the bed. The small gesture gave her the privacy she needed to cover her nakedness with the robe that he had tossed across the bed.
When she emerged, covered and curious, she discovered Tyr, wearing only his leathers, hands on his hips, glaring angrily at a dozen women of various shapes and sizes. Peeping out from amongst them was Harper, looking sheepish. The women were dressed in a dazzling array of silks and satins. In their hands they held boxes and baskets. Their chatter was incessant and, now that the doors were open, very loud. Beka waved at Tamerlane, standing heads above them all at the back of the pack. He shrugged as if to say he would not accept the blame for the intrusion.
Beka wished that she could see Tyr's face. She was sure that exasperation and affection were vying for dominance. Tyr needed rescuing.
"Darling?" God where did that come from? "Tyr?" So engrossed was he in the chaos before him that he failed to respond.
Tamerlane waved, trying to direct his father's attention to Beka. He failed.
Beka put two fingers in her mouth and blew. The sharp blast caused the guards to bring their weapons into a defensive position. Harper looked past Tyr, who whipped around to identify the source of the sound. The woman fell silent as if on cue.
"Thank you." Beka smoothed her robe, then drew the belt about her waist tighter.
"Darling?" She strode to Tyr's side, placing her hand on his arm. "Why don't you invite our guests in?" She stepped back, bringing Tyr into line with a gentle tug on his arm. As the crowd poured in she tugged on Tyr's arm so that he brought his ear down to her mouth. "Tyr, go change into something more appropriate for receiving guests, please." He raised an eyebrow, then strolled to the wardrobe, retrieving articles of clothing. He winked at her just before entering the bathroom.
Tamerlane sauntered over to her. "Mother, I can explain."
"No explanation is necessary, Tamerlane. This is extremely Harperesque." She grinned. "Would you please find some more chairs for our guests and order some refreshments."
"My pleasure," said the reincarnation of Drago Museveni, taking on the role of butler as if born to it.
"Harper." The engineer cringed. He recognized her command voice, even though he had not been subject to it for nearly a decade.
"Jeez, Beka. They are a force of nature." Reading her body language, he forestalled the tirade, by beginning the introductions. "Captain Valentine, may I introduce you to some of my wives."
"Seamus."
From out of the indistinguishable crowd of feminine faces a voice rose. Beka recognized instantly the tone of a woman used to being in charge. She scanned the crowd. A ripple began as woman moved out of the way to allow someone to pass. Still she could not see the woman to whom they were deferring.
Beka turned to Harper, who held out is hand to a petite beauty, ten years older than he, who had emerged from the back of the crowd.
"Beka, this potent package or power and passion is my First Wife, Anna, out of Simone by Balthazar of the Sabra Pride."
Anna approached following closely behind a protruding stomach that seemed to be as large as she was. "Anna is due to give birth at any moment to our fifth child and the Harper clan's twenty-fifth child. I told her that she should rest quietly at home, but she insisted on congratulating you on the conception."
Harper put his arm protectively around the woman who had found the man inside the boy ten years before.
"Please, sit down. I have looked forward to making your acquaintance. Harper has spoken of you with such respect." Beka pulled a chair out for her guest.
"Thank you, Beka. But if I sit down I may never get up again. My time approaches rapidly." She took Beka's hands between her own.
"We wanted you to know that you are welcome to attend our prenatal classes, consult with our seamstresses and interior designers. We ask you to share with us the fitness classes that we hold every day for the pregnant wives." She released her grip. "Harper says that you have no female relatives to assist you with the adjustment to motherhood. Consider us your sisters as the Kodiak considers our husband his brother."
Tyr emerged from the bathroom at that precise moment. "Harper, how you ever managed to be chosen by such a generous beauty is beyond my comprehension." He kissed Anna on the cheek. "Take your lady home. I will entertain your less pregnant wives while Beka changes her attire. It appears that this afternoon will be dedicated to female business."
"Tyr, I wish you would stop reminding Anna that she could have done better. One day she may believe you and leave me. Then I would have to kill you." Tyr did not laugh. Harper meant it. "My apologies, Lord Engineer. And to you Anna, First Wife of the Lord Engineer. You chose more wisely than any would have believed."
The minutes later when Beka emerged from the bathroom, refreshed and dressed like the slipstream captain she was she stepped into a scene of overwhelming domesticity. Tamerlane was passing through the room with a tray of canapés in one hand and napkins in the other. Tyr was pouring tea, which was being passed to their guests, by what Beka presumed to be the most junior wife. Her loins heated. A man confidant enough to pour tea without believing it sapped his masculinity was arousing. She was pleased to see Tamerlane displayed the same nonchalance as his father.
Tyr poured the last cup of tea, then turned his attention to his wife. "Rebecca, you are radiant."
She felt radiant - fresh from the shower, after hours of unsurpassed intimacy with the man who held her heart, a baby growing in her womb, while her older child stood tall and healthy - any woman would be radiant.
A cloud of concern hovered on the horizon. Beka pushed it to the back of her mind. They would have to deal with it soon enough.