by Ian Gregoire
“Well, whatever it is, that’s what you sound like when I’m pleasing you.”
Did she really slip into Zenoshanese while experiencing heights of pleasure? And how had she not noticed?
“Whatever it is you’re saying when you cry out like that,” continued Lazar, “it sure is arousing.” He sounded altogether too pleased with himself.
“Arousing is it?” she replied, derisively. “Well, guess what? I was insulting your mother for giving birth to you. Still think it’s arousing now, huh?”
It was difficult to interpret the look Lazar gave her in response. “Would you kindly refrain from mentioning my mother while we’re naked in bed together.” His playful tone indicated he wasn’t the least bit offended as he sat upright and slowly reached out for her—gently trying to pry the bed sheet held against her body away from her grasp.
“What are you doing?” Kayden couldn’t believe how coy she just sounded as she tightened her grip on the bed sheet. It certainly wasn’t deliberate.
By way of reply, Lazar used his eyes to silently draw her attention down to his groin, and his renewed state of arousal.
Kayden’s almond shaped eyes widened. “Again?” she blurted incredulously.
“I can’t help it,” said Lazar, a cheeky grin on his face. “I don’t think it’s possible for me to be this close to you and not… stand to attention, so to speak.”
Biting her lower lip, Kayden savoured the sight of the toned physique that effortlessly gave her so much pleasure. “We don’t have time for another… go,” she said meekly. “I need to have a quick wash, get dressed, and be back on campus in time to get enough sleep.” She knew she didn’t sound at all convincing.
“Who are you trying to kid, Kayden?” Lazar was finally able to pull the bed sheet from her grasp. She offered no resistance as he slowly exposed her nakedness, allowing the sheet to fall away from her body. “There’s more than enough time for one more… go. Besides, you’re not about to leave this room while you have a life or death situation to attend to.”
“What are you on about now?”
Moving just a little closer, holding her gaze, Lazar intoned, “Kayden Jayta, if I’m not inside you within the next few seconds, I’m going to die.”
Droll. How very droll, she thought as she rolled her eyes at him. But Lazar was right about one thing—she wasn’t leaving the inn any time soon. Now that he had provoked a resumption of the tingling sensation between her thighs, Kayden couldn’t say no to him. Denying Lazar what he wanted ultimately meant depriving herself. “Very well, one more time,” she said, trying to sound reluctant. “Just be quick about it.” In response to his raised eyebrows and sardonic smile, she appended, “Yes, I realise what a ridiculous request that was. Now let’s get on with it.”
Lazar moved first, attempting to gently coax Kayden back down on the bed so he could get on top of her, but she was having none of it. Placing both hands on his chest she forcibly pushed him onto his back. “Stay down!” she ordered, her voice holding an authoritative edge. “I want you beneath me… where you belong.” She promptly straddled her willing companion, slowly guiding him to where she needed him to be. It was time to have her wicked way with him, one more time.
CHAPTER THREE
The Bad Dream
Upon arriving back on campus, Fay made her way to the staff common room in the administration building where she was met by Sister Elsa who had a message from Ari. It was important Fay contacted him the moment she arrived back on campus; there was something that needed to be discussed in light of the attack on Antaris.
She briefly contemplated returning to her office immediately to comply with the request but decided she needed to question the prisoner before speaking with the Council. Thanking Elsa for conveying the message, she left the common room through the doors of the east-facing wall, entering the private staff library that contained the hidden entry to the vast cavern beneath the campus. She wasted little time in heading down there.
Jaw clenched and lips pursed, Fay marched in swift, determined strides towards one of the several buildings laid out before her in the distance. Her focus, born of simmering anger at the recent attack, allowed her to ignore the sensation she could feel coming from the powerful manifestation of Zarantar that was the open portal at the farthest end of the cavern.
The scene resembled a small town swallowed by the earth, with its barracks and storage buildings, all lit by the intense pale blue glow emanating from the network of hanging lanterns containing illumination orbs. Although it was home to the portal connecting Antaris campus to a host of other locations run by both the Order and the Sisterhood, it wasn’t often that Fay made her way down to the cavernous expanse. The number of occasions she had made use of the portal during her five-year tenure as administrator could be counted on the fingers of one hand. But that didn’t prevent her from noticing the unusual tension all around her. The place was a hive of activity, despite the absence of almost half the Sanatsai who were normally stationed here but were now patrolling the campus grounds above, on her orders. Yet it was also eerily quiet. She could hear her footsteps echo as she strode towards the building she needed to reach.
The nondescript, windowless structure was a prison—one that, to the best of Fay’s knowledge, had never before been used. It now housed a detainee with whom she very much wanted to spend some time alone. And whether he wanted to or not, he was going to provide her with answers to the questions of who wanted Kayden dead, and why.
A lanky young Sanatsai—whom she didn’t recognise, though he wore a quartz pendant denoting his rank as Kai—hurriedly approached her, looking pensive.
“Danai Annis.” He addressed her formally, falling into step alongside her. “The prisoner has been uncooperative so far. He hasn’t answered any questions.”
Frowning, Fay said, “I gave explicit instructions that the prisoner be kept in solitary confinement.” She made no effort to conceal her irritation. “No one was to speak or interact with him in any way until I questioned him.”
“Yes, Danai. But…” His hesitation seemed to speak of a guilt that went beyond simply talking to the prisoner. “That man led an assault that killed eleven of our people,” he whined, indignantly. “And for some of us, the fallen weren’t just colleagues… they were also friends. You can’t really blame anybody for wanting to give this sack of shit a piece of their minds.”
Fay glanced sideways at her subordinate, narrowing her eyes at him.
“Excuse my language, Danai.”
“Kai!” she snapped. “I trust the prisoner hasn’t been mistreated while I was away? If I find that he has been subjected to torture the persons responsible will be penalised.”
Again there was a conspicuous hesitation.
“The prisoner is alive and in one piece, Danai.”
Fay entered the detention building with the young subordinate trailing in her wake. She was greeted by Solen who led her through a corridor, past several empty cells, towards the door ahead. It was a holding room where prisoners could be interrogated. She reiterated her displeasure that her instructions for solitary confinement had been ignored. She also repeated her warning that any mistreatment of the prisoner that constituted torture would be dealt with harshly.
“I apologise for the minor breach in discipline while my back was turned,” said Solen. “But given the circumstances, it’s understandable.”
The pointed look she gave him in response made it clear she did not concur.
He blanched under the weight of her gaze, then replied, “The prisoner only received minor cuts and bruises. I took care of the matter immediately.” He brought them to a halt outside the door of the holding room where the sole surviving attacker was being detained. There were two Sanatsai standing guard on either side of the door who stood to attention for Fay. “For what it’s worth, the prisoner hasn’t said a great deal. I presume it’s because he doesn’t speak the common tongue, though I understand enough Anzarmenian to know when my moth
er is being insulted.”
So he is a foreigner, thought Fay. Just as she suspected.
Solen proceeded to unlock the door, admitting himself and Fay into the room. The small rectangular confine was empty save for a single chair at the centre of the room where the gruff looking leader of the foreign Sanatsai intruders was sat, tightly bound by his arms and legs. A number of wall mounted oil lanterns bathed the room in warm light. Approaching the prisoner with Solen at her side, the first thing Fay noticed was the full extent of the facial injuries he had sustained. Clearly he had received a significant beating. His swollen left eye was completely closed, he had a cut above the right eye, a deep laceration to his cheek, which was still bleeding, a split lower lip, and traces of dried blood around his nostrils.
Fay was not the slightest bit amused as she stopped a few paces short of the prisoner then glanced sideways to glare silently at her colleague.
“I only turned my back for a few minutes,” insisted Solen, sounding defensive. “Quarter of an hour, at most.”
“Remove his restraints,” she ordered calmly.
After a brief hesitation in which he looked as though he wanted to question the order, Solen promptly advanced and began undoing the leather restraints holding the prisoner immobile. Once done, he stepped away to stand at Fay’s side again.
Without comment, Fay advanced a couple of paces closer to the prisoner. He slowly rose to his feet, grimacing slightly, before taking a step towards her. Reflexively, she shot an arm out to her side to prevent Solen from intercepting the prisoner, presumably in a chivalrous, albeit misguided attempt to protect her. “It’s all right, Solen,” she said. “He cannot harm me.”
Both she and her beleaguered adversary stood in touching distance of each other. He had a good four or five inches on her in height, and though she was by no means a short woman—standing at five feet, ten inches—he was able to stare down at her with defiance burning in his uninjured right eye. Gauging him to be in his early forties, his complexion was somewhat fairer than that of the average native of the Nine Kingdoms. If his military uniform hadn’t given away his foreign origins, his skin tone and angular features would have tipped Fay off just the same.
On the assumption her captive only spoke Anzarmenian, Fay fluently adopted the tongue to address him.
“My name is Fay Annis, the administrator of Antaris campus. What should I call—”
“I don’t give a shit who you are,” retorted the man, cutting her off with his guttural snarl. “I already told your cowardly underlings I’m not answering any questions. So release me or kill me.”
Ignoring the restrained outburst as though it wasn’t uttered, Fay said, “I would like to know who I am speaking to, so what should I call you?” There was a prolonged silence as he continued to stare down at her, seemingly sizing her up. “Very well,” she said eventually. “I will address you as prisoner.” She glanced sideways at Solen. “You may leave the room now; I want to speak to him alone.”
“But—”
She gave Solen a withering look, making it clear she did not appreciate his objection, especially not in front of a prisoner. He had no trouble taking the hint and immediately headed for the exit.
“Make sure the door is locked and no one else enters the room.” said Fay, not peering back over her shoulder at her departing colleague. “I do not wish to be disturbed.” She noted the subtle reaction on the prisoner’s face, suggesting he did in fact understand Shintanese—the common tongue of the Nine Kingdoms. But regardless of whether he did or not, she was prepared to converse with him in his own language.
The sound of a key being turned in a lock prompted the prisoner to pre-empt Fay, saying in Anzarmenian, “If you are hoping to intimidate me, you’re wasting your time; you’re just a woman.” He smirked at her. The expression was just as derisive as the tone of voice he had used. “And frankly, you are far too beautiful to be scary.” His good eye wandered down the length of her body, then up again. “Right now as I look at you, all I can think about is whether those tits look just as good as I imagine when you take off that uniform.” He took another step towards her, scowling aggressively. “Not to mention how much I would love to fuck you… preferably in front of your husband or father.”
Looking impassively at the prisoner, Fay ignored the vulgar attempt to disconcert her. The show of false bravado had merely betrayed his anxiety about what she intended to do with him.
“Prisoner, let us be clear about one thing,” she said evenly. “I have questions to which you shall provide answers, whether you want to or not.” Her matter-of-fact tone was calculated to unnerve the man. “Ideally, I would like for you to provide these answers willingly, though you should be aware that I am prepared, however reluctantly, to simply extract them from your mind by force.” She paused momentarily, staring pointedly at the prisoner. “But be assured: you do not want me inside your head.”
The prisoner remained silent. She sighed imperceptibly before reaching a hand out towards his face. He flinched, alarm written all over his face. “I’m not trying to hurt you,” she insisted, “I just want to take care of your injuries.”
“Are you a nurse in your spare time?” he asked dismissively.
Fay ignored the question and placed her right hand on his craggy, stubbly cheek, invoking her healing touch. She saw the stunned surprise on his face as all his facial injuries quickly healed beneath her touch. Though he couldn’t see the rapid transformation, he would have felt the unmistakable sensation that accompanied it.
For the briefest of moments Fay thought she observed a crack in the prisoner’s composure as he raised his hand to the left eye that was no longer horribly swollen and closed up. But it didn’t last long. He swiftly eliminated the softening of his countenance; the defiant expression returned to his face.
Turning his back on Fay, he nonchalantly sauntered back to the chair and sat down again, gazing mockingly up at her.
I would very much like to meet the person you are working for, thought Fay. “The first question,” she began, aloud. “Who ordered the attack tonight?”
Leaning back in his chair the prisoner folded his arms, stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles, then smiled derisively at her.
It was too much to hope that one act of kindness would make him cooperative.
Fay recalled the circumstances of the attack on the campus. The prisoner’s nineteen accomplices had sacrificed themselves, not only in an effort to ensure their leader could successfully complete the mission, but also to avoid being captured alive. She understood two things about the level of commitment to their cause demonstrated by the group: it could be inspired by fierce loyalty, or it could be inspired by mortal fear. In this particular instance, fear alone couldn’t explain why twenty Sanatsai would undertake a mission on behalf of a Saharbashi. There would need to be a certain amount of loyalty and devotion in play, and judging by the fierce determination she could see in the prisoner’s eyes, overcoming that loyalty would be incredibly difficult.
Given enough time Fay had no doubt she could persuade her recalcitrant captive to willingly answer her questions. But time was of the essence. Someone, somewhere was responsible for the attack on the campus, and until she knew who it was, and why, she had to assume there would be a repeat attempt to successfully complete the failed mission—sooner rather than later. Before that could happen she was going to get the answers she wanted, though it would inevitably require her to resort to means she didn’t wish to use.
The two measures she had at her disposal were both bad options, morally. But one was considerably less palatable to her than the other. Taking what she needed from the prisoner’s mind was a line Fay was loathe to cross. Her history still weighed heavily on her, and the memories of the distant past when she had revelled in violating the minds of her unfortunate victims meant she couldn’t countenance resorting to it now, even though she had no intention of obliterating her prisoner’s mind, leaving him a gibbering, man-shaped p
iece of flesh.
The palatable option was to make the detainee fear her more than he feared his taskmaster. Make him fear the consequences of continuing to defy her more than he feared the consequences of betraying a trust. It would mean exposing a part of the darkness from her past that lay dormant within her. But what choice did she really have?
“Prisoner,” she uttered with sigh.
“Tarnat,” he interjected. “Call me Tarnat.”
That was unexpected, noted Fay. In finally providing a name, did this mean he was now more amenable?
“Very well, Tarnat.” she resumed. “I know from your actions tonight that you have a great deal of respect and loyalty for whomever sent you here. I also assume this man inspires a tremendous amount of fear; why else would you risk entering campus grounds to carry out your task, when you could have simply released the reaper stone from a safe distance away?”
Tarnat continued to sit in silence, staring impassively up at her.
“Presumably, failure was not an option and you feared the repercussions of not completing your mission. You couldn’t take a chance on the reaper stone reaching its target unhindered given that there are hundreds of people on campus with the power to neutralise it if they saw it approaching.”
He remained unmoved.
“Let me assure you that your fear is misplaced. If you must fear anyone, you should fear me. Nothing and no one in this world can protect you from me if you do not tell me what I want to know.”
Finally, Tarnat responded with a short burst of restrained laughter. “With that look on your face,” he said, “I’m even more convinced of your prowess beneath the sheets. What a fantastic lay you must be.”
A wry smile curled Fay’s lips. Very well! she thought. I will just have to provide you with a demonstration of my seriousness. Turning her back on Tarnat, she ambled slowly towards the exit. Let him think he had just achieved a victory over her. She halted at the door then stood, unmoving, for a prolonged moment. Eventually, she invoked Inkansaylar, causing a barrier sphere to form behind her in the centre of the holding room, trapping her prisoner within. She glanced back over her shoulder to see Tarnat rise to his feet, and swiftly walk to the edge of the translucent bubble. His lips began to move but Fay couldn’t hear what he was saying—her barrier sphere prevented sound from passing through. The conversation she was about to have with her captive was one she couldn’t allow to be overheard, by anyone.
