by Tyler Chase
When he was gone, Comron’s brow drew low. “Did he do something to upset you?”
“Oh, no,” she said, waving the question off. “It’s Grusonious.”
“What the hell does that mange-ridden dog want?”
“Blood samples of all the praetorian palace guards. They must have found traces that don’t match Thalonius’ family members or the servants.”
“Damn,” he said, rubbing his neck. “Yaeger was hit, I had to get him out of there quickly, but I didn’t see anyone’s blood spill.”
“Grusonious is coming to draw the samples himself following this afternoon’s council session.”
“That doesn’t leave us much time.”
“To do what?” Vaush said, thankful he’d fashioned a plan so quickly.
“To alter or destroy the sample they found.”
She frowned with skepticism. “How?”
“Have DeOrchis and Red hack the bastard’s forensic database,” he said and marked the time. “We’d better let Yaeger in on this too.” He raked his fingers through his hair and went to the com-console to send word to them. “As if I didn’t have enough to worry about,” he muttered.
As he stood there, Vaush noticed the portrait hanging on the wall behind him. “Comron?”
He looked at her and made an impatient noise.
“I see you decided to do a little redecorating,” she said, pointing to the portrait. “I could have sworn there used to be a portrait of my grandfather there.”
“And now, it’s a portrait of my grandfather.” He said unapologetically. “Did you really think I’d want a portrait of Sellusion’s son glaring over my shoulder as I work?”
“Fair enough, but what did you do with it?” Suddenly she remembered that another Hrollaugr ancestral bust had gone missing from their suite foyer.
“I had it, and a few other pieces, relocated to the Golden Hall gallery,” he said irritably. “Do you care more about that ghastly art than you do about saving Yaeger?”
“No, of course not.” Vaush’s gaze lingered upon the portrait a few seconds longer, seeing it as a clear sign of things to come—a time when the Lion Palace would be purged of all things Hrollaugr and replaced with all things Van Laven. There would be no middle ground for her to stand upon as Comron interpreted neutrality as siding with the enemy. This was a delicate time, and she’d need to tread carefully until his sensitivity levels normalized.
Between this and his persistent attempts to breach the Bramech protocol, she knew something had to change.
Chapter 52
It was the ninth hour of the evening, but Anbelise found herself still at the office staring out from behind her desk at the Novoxian skyline. Ever since the security breach that resulted in the death of her high-profile operatives, she’d worked many a late night trying to piece together this most intriguing puzzle. Someone was out there, turning over all of the agency’s secrets and creating all manner of headaches for them. It seemed new enemies were cropping up every day, as precious intel was spilled revealing their less … exemplary side.
How could she not take it personally when she’d dedicated her life to the agency and the agency had treated her well. She’d have to look a long way to find another woman anywhere near her position, and her success would certainly open doors for others. But that success was being slowly eroded away by this ominous figure hidden in the shadows, wielding power like he was born to it and wanted nothing more than to cut the Hegemony off at the knees.
How did he breach your security? You failed us! Try as she may, she couldn’t quiet the voices of her fallen operatives. Her only saving grace was that she’d acted quickly and had gotten the other operatives out before they had their throats slit or took a blast shot to the back of the head. But none of hers made it out alive. Her two remaining agents had the good fortune of being on leave at the time of the Vlodostokian purge.
She closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her temples. Maybe a good stiff drink would quiet the voices tonight.
“So who did you tell?”
She whipped around at the sound of that unmistakable baritone. “General Grusonius,” she said in a harsh tone. “You don’t have clearance for this building, much less my office.”
He remained in the doorway. “As Imperial Inquisitor, I have clearance at all levels.”
“Well then, why don’t you find one of those other levels and leave me the hell alone.”
He pushed off the doorframe and walked in. “Drop the act Bel, there’s no one around.”
“I told you not to call me that.”
“I didn’t think that applied to when we were alone.”
“What do you—I didn’t give you permission to sit down,” she said, standing up. “Why are you here anyway? I have work to do.”
He proceeded to make himself comfortable, stretching his legs out before him. “You didn’t appear to be working just then; it looked more like woolgathering.”
“It’s none of your business what I’m doing,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “It stopped being your business over five years ago.”
“So whose business is it these days?” he said coolly. “Who are you confiding in, Bel?”
Her brown eyes narrowed at him. “What exactly are you accusing me of, Grusonious?” Did he think for one second that she was the agency’s security leak?
He drew his finger across his scar. “You told someone the truth about how I received this.”
Her face twisted in confusion and disgust. “I did no such thing. You’re mistaken.”
“Someone just sat face to face with me and told me exactly how I received the scar,” he said, sitting forward in the chair. “They knew too many specifics for it to be a random guess, which means you had to have told someone.”
She slapped her hand down on her desk. “Look at me, Xan,” she said, calling him by his middle name—the name she’d called him during their times of intimacy when they’d been married. “I’ve never said a word to anyone about what happened that day. The official story is the only story I’ve ever repeated.”
He maintained the glare for a moment longer before it finally softened. “I believe you, Bel.” He sat back and his mouth drew into a firm line.
“So who was it?”
He looked up at her. “Who was what?”
“You know, the person that rattled you into confronting me.”
“Oh,” he exhaled. “It’s that prick, Van Laven.”
“Lord Comron Van Laven?” she frowned. “Who would have told him and why?”
“Someone who wanted to hurt and humiliate me,” his eyes locked onto hers. “Now you understand why you were the first person to come to mind.”
“Xan, let me make something perfectly clear. I know it’s difficult to believe, considering the hell you put me through,” she said with no trace of malice, “but I am beyond wanting to hurt you. In fact, I’m beyond you period.” She ignored his wince and stuck to the business at hand. “So who else could have told Van Laven? The only other person has far too much to lose due to the part they played, and the other person is dead.”
“As I said,” he snapped, “other than you, I have no idea.”
She couldn’t tell whether he was angry over Van Laven’s discovery or over her being beyond him. Furthermore, she didn’t care. “Well, as I said, I have work to do and I really—”
“What is it with him?” He grumbled. “First the maneuver he pulled on Rogueport for the board seat and now this. How in the hell is he doing it?”
Growing impatient, she pressed on. “I wish I could help … well not really, I’ve got far more pressing concerns to deal with. But if you want a piece of advice ….”
He cocked a brow at her.
“Have the scar removed. It’s not garnering any sympathy from me,” she said offhandedly, “It merely reminds me of the extremes I was willing to go to to be rid of you and to stop you from exploiting others.”
Before he could reply, her
private communicator lit up and buzzed. “Excuse me,” she said and brought the com-unit to her ear. “Deliah? What is it? Calm down. Where are you? Yes, I know the place. Stay there. I’m on my way.”
Grusonious’ eyes were fixed upon her. “How unoriginal. The fake emergency call to extricate yourself from an uncomfortable situation.”
“It’s one of my agents, genius,” she said as she pulled on her cloak. “She’s in danger, I have to go.”
He followed her to do the door. “Then let me go with you. I can help.”
She spared a second to consider it. “Fine. Just don’t slow me down.”
Chapter 53
Comron sat alone on a wooden chair in the center of the small ballroom at the Lion Palace. The lights were dimmed except he seemed to be sitting under a muted spotlight wearing only a lounging robe, short bed pants, and bedroom loafers. Those were Vaush’s instructions, come here, take a seat, and wait for whatever came next. There was light ballroom music playing in the background. He shook his head, if she wanted him to take her dancing, why didn’t she just say so? He had a thousand other important things he needed to do. Thank goodness, Red had been able to hack the forensic medical database and switch out the unidentified blood samples with random ones not belonging to any of the Praetorian Guard.
So, one disaster averted, only a hundred more to go. But Vaush insisted, rather adamantly, that he make time for this … whatever this was. So here he sat.
Suddenly the music changed to an up-tempo, rhythmic beat and then came the hauntingly beautiful melody on stringed instruments. It was strangely arousing, the steady thump, thump, thump intertwined with achingly sublime stringed notes wafting through the air.
Another light flashed on and there stood Vaush wearing … hardly a thing. The barely there white top looked as if it would snap off with the slightest touch, and her full breasts squeezed together tauntingly making his blood surge straight to his groin. And then there was the barely there shorts pants that looked as if they’d been painted on. Was it possible to envy paint?
Moving to the thump, thump rhythm she walked toward him, hips swaying exaggeratedly, hitting each beat as she teetered on those long, golden tan legs ending in impossibly tall heeled shoes. She came close enough to touch him, but didn’t, just swayed and gyrated her hips in long fluid motions in unison with the music. The whole time she didn’t smile. She simply wore an expression filled with desire and deep want, the one that said take me now! Obeying the command, he lunged for her, only to receive a pointy heel to his chest, as she planted her foot gently urging him to sit back down.
She lowered her leg, with the grace and skill of a trained gymnast. She spun around and sashayed a few steps away from him.
Holy shite!
He’d forgotten the slight pain in his chest when he caught sight of that sweet round ass, so firm and tantalizing, the material on the short pants was not nearly enough to contain those tight tan cheeks that jiggled slightly when she walked away to the beat.
She suddenly bent over, and craned her neck to look back at him, but his eyes didn’t leave that ass. He was utterly mesmerized and so aroused he could hardly breathe or form a coherent thought, other than cock that!
She smacked her backside firmly and gave the right cheek a squeeze that he felt in his cock.
“Damn, Vaush,” he exhaled heavily as his engorged shaft stood at full attention in his pants, saluting that perfect golden ass and the promise held between those velvety thighs. He didn’t know where he found the inner fortitude, but he obeyed her command to remain seated until she said otherwise. He’d give her this, maybe for a few seconds longer, but then she would pay for this sweet, sweet torture. Oh, the things he was going to do to that woman … work could wait.
His breath was tremulous and his heart pounded wildly as she turned to face him, her exquisite perfectly toned body undulating in long slow movements in perfect rhythm to the driving thump, thump music. She ran her hands all over her body, her breasts, her abdomen, her thighs all the while wearing that please fuck me now expression. And when she squeezed a nipple, while slipping the other hand down between her thighs and then cried his name, he thought he’d lose his bleeding mind.
Flying Frithe! How much more could a man take?
He leapt out of the chair and grabbed her by the hand startling her. “Let’s go,” he growled the command.
“What? I wasn’t done yet. For the finale I was—”
“Save it, it’s my turn now.”
“Wait, where are we going?” she asked as he led her along and she tried to keep up in the impossible stiletto heels. “Comron, I can’t go out there, not dressed like this!”
“This is our home; we can do as we please.”
“It’s the Lion Palace.”
His jaw clenched. “The Lion Palace is ours; we own it all.”
“Where are you taking me?” she said, trying to hide behind him as they moved through the well-lit corridor. “What if Laney, or worse, Yaeger sees us like this?”
“You’d probably make his night,” he said but stopped to remove his robe and throw it over her.
“Oh, now you can make the jokes,” she said wryly. “Seriously, where are we going?”
“Just there,” he pointed. “The Golden Hall galleria. It has a breathtaking view overlooking the gardens. I’ve often fantasized about having you there.”
“Fine, but let’s hurry,” she said, breasts jiggling as she hurried toward the door, eager to be out of plain view.
“Ah, my wife, the beautiful prude.”
“Prude?” she objected as they slipped into the dark room. “What about that ballroom number? That’s way outside the standard prude’s repertoire. And for crying out loud, I am the empress. I have to maintain some shred of dignity and decorum!” She reached for the lights, but he pulled her hand away. “I can hardly see a thing. Can’t we at least bring up the low lights.”
“No lights.” His voice was deep and gruff with desire, masking the real reason he wanted her here with no lights lest she behold the myriad of portraits and rows of granite sculptures showcasing the great emperors of Novoxos who comprised the Imperial Hrollaugr Dynasty—all those miserable tyrants who ruled over Nethic, keeping their boot on her neck, constantly punishing her for having the will to defy Sellusion. And now he had his own Hrollaugr sovereign, an empress with whom he could do as he pleased.
And he would do as he pleased before their very eyes, declaring boldly to them all that Van Laven had arrived and that it was their turn to kneel before Nethic! Filled with rage and the need for fiery retribution, he seized Vaush.
Chapter 54
Vaush’s plan had been to reignite Comron’s passion, but Vaush had never seen him anything like this. He’d grabbed fiercely, yelling something like a Nethicaen battle cry, scaring the hell out of her. He’d thrust her back against some cold, hard, irregular surface and the rounded edge jutted into her flesh. Speaking in ancient Nethicaen, he’d ripped her top off, wrapped it around her wrist and hoisted her up hooking her bound hands around the object behind her so that her feet couldn’t touch the ground and she was forced to lie back on a granite … lap? she concluded, seeing two large knees on either side of her.
And now she hung there. Her eyes were adjusting to the darkness with the aid of the moonlight streaming through the windows. Comron’s face was a contorted mask of fury that matched the tone of his angry words spoken in an ancient Nethicaen tongue. He leapt upon her grabbing her breasts roughly, biting them as he pressed his body against her, grinding her back against the hard surface beneath.
His guttural groans heightened her fear and excitement as he ravaged her body. Her wrists began to ache a bit. She tried to find purchase with her feet, and her spiked heels hitched onto the base of whatever artwork they were on, allowing her to shift her weight off her wrists.
But he yanked her hips forward, causing her to lose her grip on the base as he tore the short pants right off her leaving her completely na
ked and at his savage mercy. He stood naked before her, his hard cock standing tall and proud. He grabbed it fiercely as if he were wielding a weapon and said something in a low, menacing voice, still in that ancient tongue. The only word she could make out was Hrollaugr.
Another battle cry ripped from the depths of his soul as he hoisted her hips forward and rammed his shaft inside her. Having tensed up in fear at that very moment, the pain of his thrust shot through her forcing out a sharp cry. “Comron!” Dread filled her until her body adjusted to his aggression.
Each powerful thrust was punctuated by a fierce grunt, pressing her rhythmically into the unyielding surface, causing equal parts pleasure and pain. She looked down to her left and saw the marble sculpted knee jutting out from the leg. Recalling where they were, she realized that the object they were upon was the great reclining statue of Emperor Sellusion. Comron had intentionally draped her across it, to ravage her right beneath Sellusion’s nose, doing to her what Sellusion’s Star Destroyers had done to Nethic.
He bit deeply into her neck, seizing her while his hips drove madly like they were possessed with the glorious mission to conquer and destroy. Vaush cried out under the mounting assault, but that only heightened his aggressiveness as if her vocalizations provided him evidence of his conquest.
He was calling out in unintelligible madness but, by the pitch of his voice and the accelerated pace, she knew the lethal mix of passion, rage, and retribution was coming to a head, all culminating quickly in the inevitable mind altering, soul shattering orgasm.
She gave herself over to him, offering up her body to him to exorcise the ghost that haunted him over the fall of Nethic, to drown out the horrifying cries of the fallen. If that’s what he needed, she’d give it to him willingly.
Ignoring her own discomfort, she arched up off the marble surface, secured her long legs around his waist, and matched his relentless, body racking, pelvic thrusts. She would drink in his pain the way he’d taken on hers when she could bear it no more. She reached out powerfully with her mind to soothe his turmoil and take it away from him. Desperate to hold him the way he held her that day, she pulled at the bindings until one hand slipped free.
