The first time Rachel meets her doctor’s clanmates:
Conyod went to the door, his face still flushed. “Enter,” he commanded, and it slid open. His jaw dropped in shock as he looked into the hall. “My Dramok, my Nobek. What are you doing here?”
A low, angry voice answered him. “I could ask the same of you. We have an appointment in five minutes, an important one. Why have you not come home?”
Conyod shot a glance at Rachel and swallowed. She stared. He looked absolutely miserable now. “I – I guess I fell behind on my rounds. My father Vel stopped by for a visit today, so I’m playing catchup.”
Rachel had to see the clanmates who had put that expression on Conyod’s face. She stepped to his side and stared at the two men outside her room.
They couldn’t have been a more dissimilar pair physically. The slightly taller and more muscular of the two shouldn’t have been handsome, not with that heavy brow, wide forehead, and strong jaw. Each individual feature was simply too rough and unrefined for attractiveness. Well, except for his lips. His lips were plump, sensual things that made Rachel not want to kiss so much as nibble. Somehow the entire package worked for him. He was striking, worth a long, slow look.
He also wore his hair much shorter than any Kalquorian man she’d seen. As he looked back at her, his set expression shifted to something dark. Was it pain? Anger? Probably both since Rachel had seen the look on her own face. Suddenly she knew something else: he’d cut off his own hair in a self-destructive rage, much as she had done to hers over and over. She’d finally quit attacking her curls after all cutting implements had been removed from her room, but her hair had been kept shorn close to her skull at her insistence. She told herself it was because the look suited her and shied away from any other reasons.
Looking at this man, she knew better. For whatever reason, he had wanted to punish himself. Just as she had. Just as she sometimes still did.
It was hard to look away from the amazing, distressing sight of this man to look at the other. After only a few moments, Rachel managed. The second man, though not quite as tall as his companion, still had at least six inches on Conyod. His features were much more delicate than those of either of his clanmates. He was almost pretty but somehow managed blatant masculinity at the same time. His sculpted jaw was strong, his cheekbones well-formed, his nose as straight as an arrow. The grim set of his mouth was the only negative note on a gorgeous face framed by long, wavy hair. His build was the slenderest of the three, but there was no denying the aura of command that surrounded him. This one would be Conyod’s Dramok, Rachel decided.
The two men bowed deeply to her, their gazes never leaving her face. The pretty Kalquorian spoke, his voice the same as the one she’d heard speak to Conyod. At least the anger had disappeared. “Hello, Matara.”
They straightened, and the other man also spoke up, a smile hinting at those delicious lips but not quite bursting forth. “No wonder you spend so much time at work, Conyod.”
His voice was deliciously deep, and Rachel shivered. A stray fantasy of hearing him order her to disrobe and lie down before him made her lick her lips. Good heavens, she was horny.
The Nobek’s statement took some of the angst from Conyod’s expression. “Matara Rachel, these are my clanmates. Dramok Erybet and Nobek Sletran.”
The men bowed again. Rise, my subjects, Rachel thought and couldn’t help but smile. Respectful gentlemen. How nice.
Coming in November