Trying to shift to a more comfortable position, he had to content himself with looking at her large, thick-lashed eyes, pert nose and lush lips. Red cream colored her lips at the moment, as much to protect from the elements as to emphasize their shape. Lips he could imagine wrapped around a certain part of his body which was uncomfortably throbbing at the moment. Lips he longed to taste.
He swallowed a groan at the sex-drenched thoughts overrunning his head and body.
Where were these thoughts coming from? Sure, he appreciated a beautiful female, but he didn’t spend time dreaming of peeling off their clothes to see if their skin color was the same over every inch of their bodies. Granted, with the women of his planet, he already knew the answer to that particular mystery. He’d seen photos of people who lounged in the sunlight with the express purpose of changing their skin color. Often times they covered one part of their body so it remained its natural color. Did Noreen do that? Or was she the same all over?
No, there was no point dreaming about the strange woman beside him. He knew who his mate was. He just hadn’t met her yet. Which was damn perplexing, because he’d traveled to nearly every city on the planet, and attended more tedious court functions than he could count, in an effort to find his Promised One. He was sure he’d met every Nordian woman of the right age. All in the name of finding The One. The Profetia said he’d know her the moment they met. The Profetia also said she’d be one of his people, not an off-world stranger.
So why did this woman, Noreen, intrigue him so?
“You never said where you were born,” he reminded her.
“You’re right. I don’t see how it’s pertinent. I’m here to find out about your world. Why don’t you tell me what makes all this cold and snow special?”
Sharp, this one was. He wasn’t used to women with tongues this fast. Most tended to go tongue-tied in his presence. Between his title and the mystique of The Profetia, it was if the gods had placed an aura around him, elevating him on a pedestal. Though he found her reluctance to talk about herself frustrating, in a way it was refreshing. A challenge. And the bed thing. There was a question there. What concerned her? His word was good. Mostly. Well, usually in that area at least. She might tempt him otherwise. In the close quarters of the cabin her soft scent teased him, pushing away the usual odor of hot metal and fuel.
“What makes snow special?” He repeated her words to refocus and mentally rolled his eyes. Now he sounded like an imbecile who couldn’t string two thoughts together. So much for the fancy education, or the years of running a duchy and the king’s intelligence network.
“Yes. What makes your world so wonderful you’ve never left it?”
“Good question. I’m not sure you’d believe me. You’ll have to see it for yourself.”
“Well then, it seems we don’t have much to discuss, do we?”
“You don’t want to come clean about something as simple as where you come from, why should I share the intimate details of a world I love? You give every appearance of not wanting to like this place. How can you call that objective reporting?”
“Tell me about these herds you mentioned earlier?”
“Know what a caribou is?”
“Yes.”
“Well, they aren’t caribou.”
“Really.”
“Reindeer. Domesticated caribou. The first herds were brought with the original colonists from Earth five hundred some-odd years ago.” Just as the gods and people had been imported.
“So I’ve read. What makes them special?”
“You don’t want to talk about reindeer.”
“It seemed like a neutral topic. What else is there? I believe I read something about thermal pools. Tourists would find those interesting. People have been known to spend their whole lives in search of the perfect hot springs and mineral waters.”
“Ah yes, the thermal pools. Very nice places.” Especially since people bathed naked. As a general rule, Nordians were a fit and beautiful race, so it was a pleasant way to pass the time. None of those swimsuits he’d seen in travel articles. There were thermal pools on their route.
“Really? Care to elaborate?” she pressed, as he scanned the weather dials.
“I’d rather talk about what you know of The Profetia and The One.”
“Tell me about your connection to the royal family. Princess Coreen Audelhuk? Where does she fit into all of this?” she countered, with a little wave of her mittened hand.
It wasn’t that cold in the transport, so why did she wear them still?
“Good question,” he shot back at her. “How do you know the princess?”
The woman shrugged and rubbed her forehead. “I got a message one day,” she said wearily.
He wasn’t buying the act. Coreen used the very same gesture and tone on him when she wanted to avoid certain subjects. He’d seen the Queen and all the other palace women do it, as well as women across the planet. Were the more annoying habits of women universal?
“She’s the one who asked you to come here?”
The shrug, as an answer, was growing tiresome. Something didn’t mesh and, with most of his attention centered on driving the transport, he didn’t have time to figure it out. Once they connected with the convoy he’d have two nights and days to untangle the knot. And maybe a few other things. How long was her hair when released from the braid coiled at the back of her head?
“Look, it’s mid-day. There are some food packs in the cabinet under the bed. Do you mind picking out something for us to eat?” he suggested, instead of carrying the verbal hide-and-seek further.
“What kind of food packs?”
“For now, there are some self-heating ones. Easier to ingest while driving. Later, when we’ve connected to the convoy, I’ll put together something more appetizing.”
“Any special requests?” She loosened her restraint and spun her chair sideways.
“Surprise me, Noreen. That is your name, right?”
“Yes.”
Her short tone made him raise a brow. She brushed against his shoulder as she moved into the tiny space behind him. Even through the thick layers of clothing between them, he felt the electric shock. Noreen? She was an off-worlder. She shouldn’t have this effect on him. He shifted in his seat again. Would this arousal not ease?
“Which cabinet?” Her husky voice seemed to reach down into his very soul with her simple question.
He shook himself enough to tell her, then turned on the overhead light for her to see better. It also turned the windshield into a mirror, allowing him to watch her crouch to look through the cabinet. A few minutes later she handed him a foil pack radiating warmth and the scent of meatballs and noodles. She set another pack with hot tea in the holder near the steering wheel.
Though convenient, nourishing, and ultimately satisfying, the foil packs left a void in the dining experience. Sucking mashed meat in sauce through a tube was unnatural. It was just one more reason he looked forward to meeting up with the convoy. They’d have a real dinner tonight. Or, at least, as real as he could manage in these quarters.
“Not bad,” she pronounced after taking the empty packs to the trash. He watched her sit back and sip hot chocolate, her seat once again facing forward. “A dram of Lidarian mint brandy wouldn’t go astray here.” He wondered at the ever so fleeting wince that followed her statement.
“Is that one of the places you’ve traveled?”
“Lidaria? Yes, as a matter of fact. Lovely world.