The Demon Master's Wife (Fantasy, Space Opera, Science Fiction Romance) (FORCED TO SERVE) by Donna McDonald

there wasn’t much more moving he could do. Ania decided she would have to accept their cramped conditions and do what she could.
    “Let me grant you ease,” Ania said softly, trying to make it sound like a request when she knew full well it was really a demand for permission. “You need to rest, especially now that your first mate has been compromised. Gwen will manage tonight, but from what I observed it may be another three light cycles before you rest again after this.”
    Synar grunted and laughed again, not doubting Ania was right in her warning. “I don’t imagine Dorian is going to be of much use either. He’s probably chained himself to his bed for the night—the lucky bastard.”
    “Still watching those old Earth videos I see. Your swearing is colored with human references,” Ania said, laying one hand above his pelvis and the other over the center of his chest. “Quiet now. Focus on becoming calm and let me help you.”
    Ania took several breaths and focused on aligning Synar’s life force better in his body. His energy was erratic. She chanted softly, the words bouncing off the walls and around the room as they quivered in the air.
    “No—do it in English, not Pleiadian,” Synar whispered, arching and stretching beneath her hands.
    “The calming chant is more effective in the ancient tongue,” Ania whispered, continuing to release the mystical words into the air around them as her hands moved across him seeking the vortex openings along the front of his body.
    “Since your hands are exciting me rather than calming me, it doesn’t matter about their effectiveness,” Synar said softly. “I want to hear your voice speaking a language I can understand. I want your kind words to fall on me like Candoren rain. I want to know once again the joy of your willing touch.”
    Ania lifted her hands from him only to have Synar grab her wrists and pull them back down to his body. Instead of leaving one above his pelvis, Synar guided her hand much lower, groaning softly as it came to rest on proof of his arousal. He couldn’t prevent himself from pressing against her hand beneath his. He had dreamed of her intimate touch often and thought never to have it again on him. It was more restorative than a thousand cycles of sleep.
    “This is not wise,” Ania said quietly, but she did not pull her hand away from Synar’s arousal or his grip on her, even when he pressed it more firmly and stroked himself with her palm. “Synar—you’re probably being affected by the desire between Gwen and Dorian that I carry. This is for them. This is not for us.”
    Synar sat up suddenly and met her blue gaze, the hold on her wrist tightening. “Do you really believe that? Search me for the truth and you will find this is what I have always felt for you. You are my mate, Ania Looren. I will regret the last two years away from you for the rest of my life no matter how long that is. I don’t want to further regret whatever time is left.”
    Ania was shaking her head in denial, tugging her hand away in earnest now, but Synar’s grip was firm. He pulled it to his chest, trapped it there with the other he was still clutching in that same spot.
    “I watched you fight Gwen in the training room. I know what you can do,” he admitted. “If you genuinely don’t want me, stop me from seducing you. I am ill from wanting and not having. It affects all that I am.”
    “Synar— Liam , I meant only to comfort your spirit, not to tempt your body,” Ania said softly. “I wish you no harm, but do not seek what you will reject tomorrow.”
    “Forgive me for what I have done to make you fear my reaction to your touch as strongly as I fear dealing with the demon you carry,” Synar pleaded, moving her hand once again to his throbbing arousal. “Forgive me this once even if you go back to hating me tomorrow. I will suffer enough in the coming time. Be with me tonight, Ania. I need you more than I need to sleep.”
    He moved his hand