Blood Consort (A Beauty Like You, Book 2)

Relief

One of you asked for violence and spice so HERE YOU GO ENJOY~

...

Keith flew them up in his blade cruiser, a simple, nondescript thing.

Lance wondered where he was hiding the Vasaerian.

He also wondered how he might get white back—he reached out loosely, not really expecting an answer, but a vision of White settled in Lotors hangar flashed behind his eyes, and that settled the question.

Keith piloted the cruiser through a moderately difficult asteroid belt, the machine not as advanced as the lions nor as powerful. Keith did so with a stunning amount of impatience, making for a seriously bumpy ride, but displaying his superior piloting skills.

Lance winced at the sharp movements, watching Lotor as the emperor held onto the ceiling handle, feet firmly on the floor and aided by the artificial gravity controls. He swayed, but never stumbled, and stood over Keith behind the pilots seat. "I do so dislike you Red paladin, but I admit, I've seldom seen such skill in a pilot."

The cruiser jerked before spinning in a wide arc. "I hope you don't expect me to thank you for that, Lotor."

Lotor smiled cruelly. "Whether you have a sliver or an abundance of Galra blood, you will only ever call me by the title of Emperor, or your Imperial Highness."

Keith gritted his teeth, smoothing out the ride as they passed through the asteroids successfully. As soon as it was over, he slammed the gearshift forward into autopilot and leapt out of his chair, seat belts swinging. "Prepare for docking—Your Highness," he practically growled, leaving the bridge through the automatic doors.

Lance flushed. "Lotor, you don't need to be so cruel to him."

Lotor was astounded. "Me? He's the one who seeks to lay claim to what does not belong to him. I'm merely trying to assert dominance."

Lance laughed despite himself. "You don't need to, I'm pretty sure he gets it."

"And yet he still kissed you."

Lance was silenced at that, pursing his lips.

"Tell me my sweet, did you ever belong to him?"

Lance met his eye. "Yeah. I used to."

Lotor hummed. "Then I must continue until he understands."

Lance threw his hands up. "He does! He does understand! Lotor," he groaned. "He's going to be our security detail. Just play nice so it's not super awkward."

Lotor offered a noncommittal expression in response, lazily sitting back in the pilots chair. His eyes trailed over the control board. "Honestly, you'd think after all the Blades successes they'd have technology a little more....advanced."

"Lotor, resistance organizations don't exactly have infinite resources and budgets."

"I'm simply saying!"

Lance laughed, and Lotor reached over for his hand. The castleship, sleek and powerful, flooded the visible horizon.

...

Equally sleek and mighty stood Lotor's other design, the White Lion at rest across the bay.

Lance stepped out of the Blade transport, strolling down the ramp and taking in—

The team?

He hadn't seen White—or, he thought he did, but—

Ezor threw her weight into him so that he stumbled back, her long arms wound tightly around him and squeezing him to death. His arm was limited in its attempt to pat her back.