Excerpt from "The Emperor of the Wind" by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

Available from Ellora's Cave in February 09

She looked up as the door opened with a resounding crash. The breath caught in her throat along with the gasps of the others in the room. She put a hand to her throat as he came strutting in like a conqueror of old. There was steel in his amber eyes along with a glowing heat of desire no one could miss. She rose slowly to her feet, her heart thudding wildly in her chest. Her gaze flicked past him to another man who came in behind him, but her eyes returned to the one who had—at last—come for her.

“It is done,” he said, and ignored the other people in her office. With two powerful strides he was at her desk, reaching for her.

Her entire body trembled as his hand closed over her upper arm. The area between her legs flooded with liquid heat when he dragged her to him, cupping her head in one powerful hand as he drew her face to his. The moment his lips covered hers, she felt her knees buckle, but it didn’t matter for his other arm shot around her to keep her from sagging. Pressed to a hard-as-rock chest, her entire body began to quiver with anticipation.

A kiss that would have seared the flesh from a dragon swept through her senses on a white-hot lick of fire. The warmth of his tongue invading her mouth, the press of his thick erection grinding against her belly, the strength of his sword hand holding her head as he fused his mouth with hers were all the stuff of her most fevered dreams. For years she had longed for this to happen. For years she had craved the passion she knew this man ached to give her and she ached to receive. She clung to him, reveling in the hard length molding to hers, the sweet mouth plying hers with such promise it made her want to cry.

“So long,” he whispered against her lips. “So gods-be-damned long.”

“Ah, I think you’d best take this somewhere else,” she heard the young man who had accompanied her lover into the room say.

A low growl of irritation vibrated against her mouth, but her warrior broke the kiss again to sweep her into his arms and swing her around. Out the corner of her eye she saw the young man step aside as she was carried to the door.

“Milady,” he said with a slight nod.

“Captain Rede,” she acknowledged.

Her arms were wrapped around her warrior’s neck. “Where are we going?”

“My ship. Where we will have privacy,” he said, glancing down at her with such riveting lust it sent a spasm of expectation through her lower body.

She saw people stopping in the corridor to stare at them, felt her cheeks flame and buried her face against his brawny shoulder. “Couldn’t I just walk?” she asked in a small voice.

“They know gods-be-damned well who I am and now they will know who you are,” he told her. “By this time tomorrow, we will be Joined.” He looked down at her—never breaking his long-legged stride. “But you’ll be mine long before that.”

“I have been yours for years, my love,” she whispered.

His answer was a wink and they said no more until he was carrying her up the steps of his black runabout.

“Everything is as you wished it,” a beautiful woman she didn’t know told them. She was standing near the cockpit, smiling.

“Scoot,” was his reply, and the beautiful woman was quick to leave the runabout.

“She looks familiar. Who was that?”

“My daughter-in-law,” he replied.

His words stunned her, but she had no time to dissect their meaning for he was placing her upon his bunk—a soft silk coverlet strewn with rose petals thrown over the mattress. A pale pink scarf covered the phosphor light on the shelf over the bunk. He straightened, his hands going to the buttons of his black silk shirt.

“I’ve waited so long for this,” he said.

She was breathing heavily as he kicked off his boots, moved to the end of the bunk to slip her shoes from her feet. The pounding of her heart was loud in her ears as she watched every move he made.

He made quick work of the buttons, and as he peeled the shirt from his muscular chest, she unconsciously ran her tongue over her upper lip. He stopped in the act of removing the shirt and shivered, his gaze riveted on her wet lip.

“Sweeting, don’t. You’re gonna make me come before I ever get inside you,” he told her in a voice that shook. The shirt dropped from his arms to the floor like a glossy black bird. He put his hands to the wide silver buckle of his belt.

It was her turn to shiver.

The black enamel tang at the tip of the belt pulled free of the keeper and slid sinuously from the prong. With a scratch of sound he drew the belt from his waist and it fell atop the shirt with a dull thud.

Hands to the button at the top of his fly. The snick of the slider lowering.

Her heart thundered. Her body ached.

His fingers thrust behind the waistband to push it down over his lean hips. A thick nest of wiry curls was revealed as the uniform pants dropped down his legs.

“Oh sweet Morrigunia,” she breathed—eyes wide, mouth dry, palms sweating—as she stared at what was revealed as the pants fell.

He lifted his chin, willing her attention to his face. When she obliged, his voice was little more than a dry husk.

“Do you want me?” He asked, stepping out of his pants and kicking them away.

Ripples of hunger undulated through her body, and without a moment’s hesitation she sat up, put her hands to the front of her modest, serviceable white blouse and ripped it open—buttons pinging against the titanium wall beside her and bouncing to the floor. She shrugged out of the blouse, wadded it up and threw it across the small cubicle.

“Does a she-wolf want her mate?” she countered in a low grumble, breathing so fast she was beginning to get lightheaded. Before he could answer, she reached around her and unhooked her utilitarian white satin bra and let it slide down her arms.