“Never mind,” she said, pulling his hand away from the bar and placing it on her upper thigh, bared by the deep slit in her bespangled dress. “I think we can finish the evening without more liquid refreshment. There are other amusements.”
Silently, he lifted his hand away from her body and shifted his position a fraction, putting some space between them. Dismayed, he hoped she’d take the hint.
Instead, Opherra slid over the cushion and onto his lap, facing him, twining her arms around his neck. It was obvious she wasn’t wearing any lingerie as she rocked herself over his crotch in a crude attempt at arousal. “Come on, you know the driver and the guard can’t see in here unless I let them. No need to be shy now.” Leaning forward so her dress gaped away from her ample breasts, she tried to kiss him.
“This isn’t a good idea, boss,” he said, moving her off his lap and back onto the bench seat. He turned his body, making his arm a barricade so she couldn’t repeat the lap maneuver. “We closed that door between us years ago and moved on. I’m not your type. You told me so yourself, as I recall.” Give her a face-saving out.
She seemed to appreciate the old joke, smiling and squeezing his arm through the jacket’s sleeve. “Muscle-bound and way too smart.” She gave him a mock slap across the face, playful. “What harm can a fling do, for old times’ sake?” Resting her other hand on his leg, she slid her palm toward his groin. She groped him awkwardly through the fabric of his trousers, fondling his balls, frowning as she touched his unresponsive cock. “Not happy to have me all to yourself? Too much to drink maybe? I can fix the problem, darling.”
There’s only one woman I want to be with, and you gave her to the enemy. His disgust with Opherra ran bone-deep, and there was no slightest twinge of arousal in his entire body. It was Miriell or no one for him. The real man under the Conor Stewart façade was strictly a one-woman lover, loyal. He forced himself to keep his voice level, suppressing his anger. “The overlords probably don’t expect you to sleep with the hired hands.”
“That’s exactly who they sleep with, male and female, so why not?” Fumbling with the fastening to his trousers, licking her lips, she leaned over him, clearly intending to free his package and perform oral sex as foreplay.
He grabbed her wrists in an unbreakable hold and pushed her away. “I said no, Opherra.”
Eyes flashing, the color high in her cheeks, she stared at him for a moment, then jerked against his hold. He allowed her to gain her freedom, relieved at the way she retreated all the way to the opposite side of the car. He adjusted himself, making sure his pants were secure.
“I’d be extremely careful if I were you, Conor Stewart.” Her voice was pure ice. “You’re sworn to my service. Don’t make me sorry you survived the hit. There could be unpleasant consequences.”
“Sex with you wasn’t included in the blood oath I swore. I’ve done everything else you ever asked of me.” Or at least led you to believe your orders were carried out.
“Pour me a drink.”
He did so, and she took it, keeping her eyes on him the entire time she drank. Running her index finger around the rim of the now empty glass, she asked, “Is this about the alien female? Again? “
He was silent, figuring any answer would only infuriate her further. He wasn’t in the mood to placate her.
“You only go to bed with alien women now? Humans don’t turn you on anymore?” Her voice was speculative. “Maybe you need a more congenial spot to fuck. Although, I recall steaming up the backseat of a certain groundcar—”
“That was five years ago, Opherra. We’ve both changed since then.”
“To the point where a quickie in the back of a car violates your standards? How noble of you. I never would have suspected you capable of such a personality change. Maybe the skinny little alien was able to work her magic on you after all.” Frowning, she tilted her head and drew back a little, eyes widening. “Maybe you’re compromised—”
“Seven hells, will you stop harping on the topic? I don’t change partners as easily as you do, okay? Takes me a while to get over losing someone. If you’ll recall, you were the one who ended our relationship, and getting over you was damn hard,” he lied, realizing belatedly what dangerous territory the conversation was drifting into. “I don’t want to open the door again, especially if it’s only casual sex you want.”
She assessed him. “I had no idea our breakup hit you so hard. What if I said this could be the start of a renewed connection?”
He knew the car must be nearly to the spaceship by now. “Let’s table this until we get back to our own turf. You don’t need the distraction with what you’ve got going on here, being the speaker for the Council, dealing with the Shemdylann, and I…I can’t think clearly right now. I admit it, you’re right, I did let myself get in too deep with the performer. If you and I have a second chance, let’s don’t mess it up with a rebound fling. Let’s take our time.” Forgive me, Miriell, for even uttering the words. But he had to defuse Opherra’s temper. He recognized the signs, and right now he was on thin ice. She was fully capable of ordering his execution, and he had no allies among the Amarotu forces on this planet. Buying time was his only alternative, because he’d be damned if he was going to take her to bed. He would not betray what he and Miriell shared.
Setting her glass aside, Opherra nodded. “All right. I wish now I’d arranged a discreet accident for the handler and his charge the day they arrived in my territory. I never wanted to hire them in the first place but my boss insisted.” She stretched like a cat and shook her head. “The missed opportunity to be rid of this troublesome female is space dust in the jets. Hindsight.”
The car slid smoothly to a stop. In a moment, the guard would be opening the door. She leaned over, cupping Conor’s chin with one hand, and kissed his cheek. “Later, then.” Without a backward glance, she slithered from the car.
Conor scrubbed the lipstick from his face with his fist and hoped he’d solved the problem for now. The SCIA had better make their move tomorrow or he was going to be taking action on his own to rescue Miriell and consequences be damned.
CHAPTER NINE
Once Miriell’s captors retreated to the Shemdylann ship, which was berthed at a landing field a mile or so in the opposite direction from where the humans had landed, she had to accompany the captain to what was apparently her private suite on board the vessel. The two Chimmer and the largest Shemdylann male came along as well. Several smaller juvenile aliens scurried around fetching drinks and attending to any whim. Miriell couldn’t tell them apart, as the workers were too young to have developed the distinctive slashes of color the adults of their species featured. Until they were strong enough and wily enough to challenge a more senior male and win, the juveniles had to serve as servants and drones. Many never rose from the underclass to become warriors. Survival of the fittest.
Gyxxtahm unfastened the chain from her carapace and handed the leash to a juvenile. “Remove that hideous explosive necklace from my pet before you secure her in the cage. Humans can be so devious. How am I to know there isn’t another controller remaining in Amarotu hands? She could be a plant to be used against me.”
The servant pulled Miriell to a large cushion on the deck, which was beside a filigreed enclosure. It wasn’t the slave pen Miriell had been dreading, but it was a cage nonetheless. “Kneel,” said the Shemdylann. He moved behind her, studying the clasp at the base of her bowed head, and a moment later, the necklace fell away. Catching it on the tip of a claw, he handed the gaudy jewel-encrusted piece off to another servant.
“Into the cage.” The alien shoved her roughly, and Miriell went sprawling. She crawled as fast as she could into the relative sanctuary of the container.
The chain was looped around a hook, and the door shut in her face. She sat curled up against the rear wall, trying to control her fear. The cage was musty but held no hint of who or what had occupied it before Miriell. At least she wasn’t in direct view of the massive bed where the
admiral was holding court. She knew her power was useless against the Shemdylann, but she sent a tendril curling toward the Chimmer. The gray-skinned aliens were highly confident, contemptuous of humans and the Shemdylann alike. They read to her as militaristic and fiercely loyal, but to whom? I can affect them, no doubt, but now isn’t the time. I can’t escape this ship full of Shemdylann.
Gyxxtahm addressed her allies in her own language, which Miriell spoke fluently after her time on the slave ship acting as one of the leaders of the prisoners. Allowing her hair to fall over her face, Miriell pretended to be cowering in fear, not entirely feigned, and unable to understand the discussion.
“Interesting the humans took my directive to elevate a female to the council.” Gyxxtahm gave the equivalent of a Shemdylann laugh. “It was a useful test of how far the Combine can be pushed. The deluded fools desperately want to deal with us.”
“Greed and profits blind them, until the day the masters shatter the entire Sectors,” said the tallest Chimmer. “Do you have informants placed at their humans-only dinner tonight? We need to know what they discuss.”
Gyxxtahm clicked her pincers in a sign of amusement. “I’m no hatchling. Of course I’ve got people willing to sell out their fellow humans for enough credits. We’ll have a report on the conversations before the morning session. The woman, this Opherra, clearly isn’t at the level of the others, but she appears to learn fast. She’s ambitious. And jealous. I like the way she forced the male to give up his slave to me. Yes, I can work with this woman.”
The Chimmer made an odd sound now, which Miriell thought was an expression of humor. “Do you think she knows your people eat their pets?”
“I doubt she cares, but you make a valid point. I’ll defer until the conference ends and we’re gone from here.” Gyxxtahm thumped the top of the cage, and Miriell couldn’t control her startled reaction as the aliens in the cabin laughed. “The creature has her amusing aspects. Or I may sell her again. Profit without expense is always pleasant to contemplate. What instructions from the masters do we have for tomorrow?”
The Chimmer launched into specifics about a certain drug the Mawreg wanted to introduce into the Sectors and then began talking about categories of sentients who were to be kidnapped and handed over to the masters for experimentation. For the most part, the names meant nothing to Miriell—D’nvannae for example—but she heard the male refer to Mellureans more than once, and she remembered Conor had said there were Mellureans involved with his secret mission to upend the Combine. Clearly, the stakes were incredibly high, even as the Sectors feared. And the Combine brought its unique expertise to the challenges the mysterious masters wanted solved. The deal was a good matchup of buyer and seller.
I hope rescue is coming tomorrow, that Conor’s commanders haven’t abandoned him. Or we haven’t traveled too far outside the Sectors to be found. She tried to make some alternate plan in case the retreat wrapped up without an attack from the SCIA. She knew Conor would attempt to rescue her no matter what, and she had to be ready. She was unbearably tempted to send a thread of her gift searching for him—as Gyxxtahm said, there was a Combine banquet going on at the ancient complex fairly close by—but she needed to hoard all her power for whatever lay ahead.
The Chimmer eventually left. Gyxxtahm issued orders to her own people. “I desire my dinner, and afterward I’ll have the young flight officer—what’s his name?—Urxxamen, in my bed.”
Food was brought, the smells so disgusting to Miriell that she forgot her own hunger and thirst and tried frantically to prevent dry heaves. On the one hand, she was glad to be forgotten by her new mistress, but on the other, the physical misery was distracting. She didn’t want to siphon off any of the inner power—meant to fuel her gift—to keep herself healthy. The juveniles came and went, bearing huge, steaming platters of what passed for Shemdylann food, and eventually, the meal was over. Several of the smaller Shemdylann hatchlings spent a good hour giving their admiral a sponge bath, followed by rubbing lotion all over her considerable body and painting the tips of her claws with gold.
Miriell’s cage was off to the side, so she had no direct view of the proceedings. She dreaded the coming encounter between her new owner and the soldier whose presence she’d commanded. She startled and recoiled when a heavy fur was thrown partially over her cage.
Leaning over to peer into the small enclosure, Gyxxtahm gave the Shemdylann equivalent of a belly laugh. “Thought you were going to be a voyeur in my room, didn’t you, human?”
Since she’d spoken in Basic, Miriell felt it safer to respond. “I’d prefer to be elsewhere to allow you total privacy.”
“I imagine you would. In the bed of the muscle-bound warrior who had to surrender you to my tender care perhaps?” There was much laughter as the juveniles tittered in imitation of Gyxxtahm’s booming amusement and rapid pincer clicks. She moved away from the cage, and the furs and rugs rustled as she arranged her heavy limbs on the bed. “If I didn’t think it would annoy this Opherra the humans brought in to be my contact, I’d demand him for a pet as well and have a mating pair. I still might, if she tries to thwart me in negotiations. Forcing the human spokeswoman to agree to such a concession might be a good strategy.”
The idea sent chills down Miriell’s spine, but Gyxxtahm’s attention reverted to her own concerns. She dismissed the servants. The scurrying adolescents had barely left when the portal opened and Miriell heard another Shemdylann enter the cabin. From the heavy footfalls, she guessed it was the soldier who’d been summoned.
“You sent for me, my lady?”
“The supreme honor is yours this night,” the admiral said.
“My family will rejoice at the distinction.” His voice sounded curiously flat to Miriell.
Miriell heard sounds as if he was removing weapons and perhaps body decorations, and then the huge platform creaked as the officer joined Gyxxtahm. Curling into the smallest ball she could manage, Miriell put her hands over her ears, shut her eyes tight and began to hum one of her favorite songs. She refused to let herself speculate on what the Shemdylann couple might be doing. Grateful for the heavy blanket covering most of the cage, which helped to reduce the sounds, Miriell put herself into a trance as deeply as she dared, rather than listen to the Shemdylann mating. At some point in the proceedings, she realized with horror that Gyxxtahm was murdering her suitor in order to devour him, in the manner of predator insect queens. Cowering in the cage, a terrified Miriell vowed to kill herself rather than be eaten by this monster.
Eventually, the unspeakable night ended, and she heard the cautious chitters of the juveniles as they came into the cabin to clean up.
“Take the pet to perform her morning biological rituals,” said Gyxxtahm sleepily. “I want no bipedal mess in my bedroom.”
Apparently, Shemdylann didn’t perceive irony, considering how the remnants of her late lover now littered the deck.
A juvenile shoved the blanket aside and wrenched the cage door open, grabbing Miriell’s leash. She scrambled from the enclosure, averting her eyes from a large chunk of what was clearly the suitor’s carapace and stepping over other remnants of the night’s encounter on her way to the portal, practically running over the servant assigned to see to her needs.
“We aren’t on a slave ship,” the Shemdylann said in careful Basic as Miriell emerged into the corridor. The alien followed close on her heels. “We’re aboard a military vessel. There are no facilities suitable for your kind, so I’ll take you to the crew’s relief room. You’ll have to make do.”
“Food? Water?”
The alien nodded. “One of my egg mates will bring your allocation. We must be quick. The admiral wishes to display you again today at the meetings.”
Miriell glanced at her wrinkled clothing. Display me, then, but I’m going to look pretty bedraggled. She didn’t care what state she and her clothes appeared in as long as she was close to Conor. And as long as the SCIA show up, even if they are a day late.
When it came time to take the vehicles back to the meeting hall, their Chimmer escort announced a detour.
“The master wishes to impress the importance of certain points on you personally, Admiral,” said the Chimmer who appeared to be in charge. “We will make a quick trip to his ship.”
In a good mood, Gyxxtahm waved her claw, narrowly missing Miriell, who ducked and sidestepped. “Always an honor to encounter the masters. If we are late to the first session, so be it. The humans must wait on our pleasure.”
The car sped farther east in the desolate countryside, stopping at what appeared to be a rock formation. Miriell stared as she got out of the groundcar behind the Shemdylann. She felt the presence of a massive intelligence close at hand, but there was nothing to be seen. When the entire party was gathered, there was an unpleasant hum, like a buzzing along her nerves or thorns pricking her skin, and the scene in front of her shifted, the rocky bluff disappearing and an angular black ship with spikes and ungainly protrusions taking its place. A ramp slid smoothly from the main body of the craft, and a portal opened. The Chimmer strode confidently ahead. Miriell was surprised as Gyxxtahm hesitated, muttering curses to herself before she walked forward. The admiral’s bearing became more upright as she went.
So she fears this Mawreg, despite her brave words. Interesting.
As he crossed the threshold, one Chimmer issued a warning to the Shemdylann. “Humans can’t bear the sight of the master. Best to leave the pet here.”
Gyxxtahm yanked on the leash, causing Miriell to trip and fall to her knees for a moment. “She’s not human, are you, pet?”
Since the question was posed in Shemdylann, which she supposedly couldn’t comprehend, Miriell ignored it and concentrated on standing up, brushing the dust off her skirt.
“Let’s see what happens. It may be amusing. Lead the way.” Gyxxtahm flicked her smaller clawed leg at the Chimmer. “We waste time.”
Danger in the Stars: (The Sectors SF Romance Series) Page 14
