Allen, Kayelle - T4 Alitus (2007)

by Allen, Kayelle

  “Me, either. I work for Luc, you know.”

  “No, I didn’t.” He turned slightly in the seat. Saint-Cyr was pouring a round of whiskey. Alitus sat forward again. “What do you do for him?”

  “My title says Producer, Special Assistant to the President, but I’m basically a gofer.”

  “Gofer?”

  “He says he needs something and I ‘gofer’ it.” He grinned. “I essentially manage the office for him and run interference.”

  Alitus chuckled. “Sounds like my job. I’m the Personal Assistant to the Empress. Whatever needs doing, that’s what I do.”

  “You must have killer hours. Does she keep you running all the time?”

  “Pretty much.”

  Wulf raised one eyebrow. “Wait till you’re one of theChosen .”

  Alitus laughed. He hadn’t enjoyed himself this much with another person since …Hmm. Maybe never. Wulf was looking at him with more than friendly interest. Hard to think he’d have to be in bed with him in a few hours. Alitus cleared his throat. He folded his hands and rubbed his thumb across one nail. “What about your hours?”

  “Always hopping. My work at Lucsondis varies from twenty-four and a half hours a day to twenty-five.”

  Alitus frowned. “There are only twenty-four hours in a tradestandard day.”

  One side of Wulf’s mouth lifted in a sardonic grin. “Try telling that to Luc Saint-Cyr.”

  They both laughed again.

  “What are you two finding so funny out here?”

  Alitus stood at Destoiya’s voice. Wulf followed.

  “Talking about our jobs, Your Majesty.” Wulf tucked both hands behind him. “And our impossible hours.”

  Destoiya raked her gaze over Wulf and smiled approvingly at Alitus. “I see. Glad to know you’re getting on.”

  Alitus tucked his hands behind him. “Wulf and I have a lot in common, Your Majesty.”

  “Do you?” She beamed at both of them. “Very well. Carry on, gentlemen.” She went back inside.

  Wulf leaned in closer. “She’s fabulous. You’re one lucky dog.”

  He bounced on the balls of his feet. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

  * * * *

  Destoiya sipped her whiskey. The thought of seeing Alitus being taken by her dear friend Luc brought a flush of heat. She’d loved Luc from the first moment she’d seen him. He’d been her brother’s toy for some time before Pietas offered him to her. She’d argued with Pietas over some trivial thing back when they still lived on their homeworld, a thousand years before they’d been exiled. He hadn’t spoken to her in weeks—or was it months? At any rate, he’d finally deigned to speak to her and had sent Cyken Tomarus to her bed as a peace offering.

  Young Cyken had been created by Pietas, part of the experiment to enable Sempervians to die and stay dead. The rank and file hadn’t understood her brother’s greatness, his genius. To them, creating a being designed for slaughter meant he was playing god. But in addition to creating soul-less beings for experiments, Pietas had also created children from their own DNA. Their people no longer reproduced. Instead of applauding his work, they’d locked Pietas and his staff up on a deserted island and left him there.

  Then known as Dessy, Destoiya had gathered a small contingent of followers and joined him in protest. Despite his abuses, back then she’d adored her brother. Before she’d seen him slaughter a whole world of people simply because he could.

  Before he’d created Peril.

  “Drak for your thoughts,” Luc said, next to her.

  “And ruin your day? I think not.” She sipped her drink.

  “Then you must be thinking abouthim. ”

  He did not mean Alitus. Neither of them needed Pietas’ name between them. She focused on the playing field. The game had started and she hadn’t noticed.

  “Who’s winning?”

  “No one yet,” Erryq put in. “That was kickoff. I think I’m going outside with the boys.”

  “Fine, love. You wrote the book. Go enjoy it.”

  Erryq blew her a kiss and winked at Saint-Cyr as she left.

  “The glass is transparent to us,” Saint-Cyr told her, one hand trailing along her shoulder. “But no one can see through it once I shut the door.”

  One of the few who knew what secret lay behind those black lenses of his, she met his eyes with supreme confidence in her ability to satisfy. A Sempervian rarely had enough sex. She’d built her Stable because she needed multiple lovers. But with another Sempervian, it was satisfaction guaranteed.

  “This is your anniversary with Wulf, darling. Won’t he be terribly upset?”

  He slid the tip of one finger along her exposed collarbone. The dress was cut wide, almost off the shoulders, leaving plenty of bare skin.

  “Our true anniversary isn’t until Sofftem 30. Besides, he won’t mind. After all, I’m giving him Alitus later.”

  “Oh, I thought you were going to take him.”

  “Disappointed?”

  Destoiya brought his hand to her cheek and leaned against it. “A little. I pictured you making love to him. I love your skin, you know.” She stroked his hand across her cheek. “It’s softer than any man’s ought to be.”

  Those perfect white teeth flashed in a slow smile meant to tease. “Don’t worry. You’ll have a good view of everything. Wulf is going to drive him home. They’ll be in the back of the hoversine quite long enough to enjoy themselves, I assure you.”

  “Mmm.” She patted her upswept hair. “Well, in that case…”

  Saint-Cyr stood. “Excuse me a moment, my love.” With a courtly bow, he proceeded to pour three mugs of beer, which he carried to Wulf, Alitus, and Erryq. He shut the glass door and returned. “There. They won’t disturb us for a little while and all the other doors are locked.”

  Destoiya lifted her hand to stroke his face with the back of her fingers.Such a masculine face. Rugged and firm. “You do know how to get what you want, don’t you, my love?”

  He laid a hand on his chest. “Wheeler dealer.”

  She stood and held out her arms to the sides. Saint-Cyr reached around behind her and unfastened the clasp of her short dress. She slid it off her shoulders. When it dropped to the floor, she knelt on the pool of black silk and opened the front of his pants.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  TarthCity, Thomas Gabriel Stadium Grand Opening

  Sumertsag 50

  Alitus jumped to his feet when Wulf did. The Killer offense had set up Ensak Ssarg with the ruckball and he was running for the end zone. Fist O’Brady Tyrell tackled him and they rolled out of bounds, then back in as they fought for the ball. Having watched the game for the past two hours with Wulf and Erryq, he now knew exactly what was happening on the field.

  The two Rogues were the stars of their teams. Ssarg put his helmeted head down and used his two-hundred-pound frame like a battering ram to open the Fist defense. Two players went down; another flew through the air like straw in a high wind. When he hit the ground, a collective “Oooh!” went up from the crowd.

  “Is he going to be all right?”

  Wulf spared Alitus a brief glance. “Who, Jack?”

  “Yeah. Twenty-four. The guy who went flying.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Wulf whistled as the play ended. During the time out, he sat back down next to Alitus and picked up his beer. “See those medi-droids coming out on the field?” He pointed.

  “Yeah.”

  “There’s a full trauma center built into the stadium. Any medical attention these guys require is right there if they need it. Besides, Jack’s tough. I swear, he’s got nine lives. You wouldn’t believe the stuff this guy goes through every season. Keeps coming back for more, though. He probably got hit right on the edge of that air zone. See the triangle marking where the ground slopes up?”

  Alitus followed his pointing finger. “Yeah.”

  Wulf gestured to take in that part of the field. “That whole section is anti-grav. You can flip someone halfway to the moon on that thing
.” He smiled at Alitus.

  “This is one brutal game.”

  “You got that right. Maybe that’s why I love it. I could never do this shit. I think it’s cool that they can.”

  Alitus finished off his beer. A little earlier, Saint-Cyr had brought them all refills, handed out popcorn and shut the door again. “Did you really ask Saint-Cyr to buy you the Fists?”

  Wulf had his beer halfway to his mouth. He rested the mug on his knee. “We’d had a fight. Our first, I think. He wanted to know what it would take to make it up to me. I jokingly said, ‘the Fists’ and he’s never let me live that down.” He glanced toward the closed door, then toward Erryq, who was making notes in a reader. “You know what they’re doing in there, don’t you?”

  Alitus shifted his gaze elsewhere. He thought of Erryq asking him how he felt about Rheyn having other lovers. “Does it bother you?”

  “Some.” Wulf took a chug of beer. “You?”

  “Used to it.”

  “So you don’t like it, either.”

  Alitus kept his head down. “No. Not really. Not that I have a choice.”

  “Sempervians have no idea what faithfulness means to a human.” Wulf leaned back in his seat. “Well, maybe that’s not altogether true. I guess it’s more like they don’t feel bound to it like we do. To them, sex is one more way to power and control. They fall in love, yeah, but it doesn’t keep them from accomplishing their overall goals.”

  “I don’t understand all that.” Alitus rubbed his brow.

  “Has she explained Peril to you, yet?” Wulf was watching him, studying him in some way Alitus didn’t understand.

  “Peril? What’s that?”

  He nodded with a knowing gleam in his eye. “I’m sure Her Majesty will tell you all about it later. Game’s on.”

  Peril.The words danger, hazard, and threat came instantly to mind. Surely it was nothing so mundane as being a thrill seeker.What in the worlds is Peril?

  Wulf leaped to his feet and Alitus joined him. Number twenty-four had come back onto the field on his own power. The crowd started chanting, “Jack is back! Twenty-four! Jack is back! Twenty-four!” The words scrolled on every screen in the arena.

  Wulf whistled again. “Damn! This is going to be one hell of a game.” He glanced toward the door, lowered his head and turned back to the field.

  Alitus felt the pain that Wulf could not verbalize. The person he wanted most to share the day with was not beside him and in a way, never could be.

  How do you fall in love with someone who will live for eons after you’re nothing more than a faint memory?

  One day at a time.Alitus shut his eyes.One day at a time.

  * * * *

  Luc Saint-Cyr’s hoversine

  Sumertsag 50, night

  “Can’t believe I’m alone in a hoversine with Alitus Vivaldi. The almighty Conqueror’s right-hand man.” Wulf grinned at him from the opposite seat. “You sure you don’t mind me taking you home?”

  “Naw. Kind of tired anyway. I haven’t slept much lately.” He stifled a yawn. “Sorry.”

  “You dog!” Wulf nudged his foot. “Both of them have been with you, haven’t they?”

  Alitus blushed. “Yeah.”

  “No damn wonder you’re tired.” Wulf sat back, watching him. “You know I’m supposed to seduce you, right?”

  Laughter escaped before Alitus could stop it. He bit his lower lip. “What, with your charm?” He couldn’t help chuckling.

  Wulf laughed with him. “Being aChosen means a lot of things, Alitus. I didn’t have anyone to show me the ropes at first. Eventually, I caught on, but the very first requirement is loyalty.”

  “Listen, Wulf, I know you mean well, but I promise you there’s no one in this empire more loyal to the empress than I am.”

  “I believe it, man. But she wants proof of it. You don’t have to give it. According to Luc, you can just walk away. I’m bettin’ that’s not your style.”

  “No. No, it’s not.” He put his head down and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. Despite the situation, he found himself wondering what it would be like to submit to Wulf.Should I make the first move? Am I supposed to do something?

  “Luc and I talked this out. She asked both of us to take you, but…”

  Alitus lifted his head at the long pause.

  Wulf continued, “But we think just one of us is all you need in order to prove yourself and Luc says Her Majesty is ok with that. You can have a choice. Me or Luc. I told Luc you’d rather have me do it. I—I hope that’s ok.”

  Alitus flattened his back against the seat and sighed. “Do you—is it—will you…” He sighed again. “I don’t even know how to ask this.”

  “What will I do to you?”

  He bit his lips together and nodded.

  “She said you had some kind of bad experience in the past. You want to talk about it?”

  He shook his head. “Not really, no.”

  “Ok.” Wulf laced his fingers together, rubbed them back and forth. He pressed both hands on the seat. “Um, you want to know what the minimum is that you have to do to satisfy her requirement?”

  Alitus pressed his fingers into his brow and lowered his head.This sounds like I’m in school trying to find out what homework I missed. He swallowed. “Yeah,” he said and lifted his head. “That’d be great.”

  * * * *

  TarthCity, Di Lusso District

  NizamrakBuilding, Penthouse “The Loft”

  Erryq prowled Saint-Cyr’s penthouse while Destoiya sat with him before the bank of screens in his den. “How does all this work?”

  Saint-Cyr poured a whiskey and offered it to her, then another for himself. “When I touch this pad…” He indicated a yellow light. “—Wulf can hear me, but Alitus can’t. And as you can see, everything they do is visible to us.”

  Multiple screens showed the inside of the hoversine. One looked over Wulf’s shoulder at Alitus, another the reverse of that. Two more angled in from the sides.

  “You’ll be able to see everything. I can even zoom. Watch this.” He held a small joystick forward and the camera moved in closer, filling the screen with Alitus’ face. “He’s sweating.”

  “I hate to see him distressed like this.” She took a sip of the whiskey. It burned like fire.

  “I can shut it off, if you like.”

  “No. I want some measure of control over this. It’s bad enough my brother is forcing me to test him. I won’t leave him in anyone else’s hands. Not even yours.” She polished off the drink and refused more when he offered it.

  He inclined his head.

  “Do you use this…” She waved her hand at the set-up. “—often?”

  “No. But I have on occasion gifted Wulf with some young thing he fancies. He knows it pleases me to direct him in using his new ‘toy.’”

  “You amaze me, Luc.”

  He steepled his fingers. “How so?”

  “The infamous Harbinger conceding to a lowly human’s wishes. Especially when that human belongs to him.”

  He tapped his fingertips together. “My dear, you forget. I lost Wulf for more than twenty years. Whatever he wants, I intend to supply it. Even if it means giving him someone else.”

  Destoiya patted her hair into place. “Is that what he really wants?”

  Saint-Cyr made a refined shrug. “It is what it is, my love. Wulf is thirty-five. A child in our eyes, but a full grown man in his. Who am I to stop him?”

  “I understand, but consider yourself warned. One day this scheme of yours will backfire.”

  He bared his teeth in a slow, erotic smile. “How like you to point out your faults in the lives of others.”

  She sat upright, her back rigid. “Meaning what?”

  “Meaning,” he made an expansive gesture, “that you find fault in my use of Wulf when you are doing the same thing to Alitus.”

  She opened her mouth to object—and found she couldn’t. “You’re right, I suppose.” She set a hand over her h
eart. “I do love him, Luc.”

  He tilted his head. “But…” he prompted.

  “I won’t lose a round of Peril over him. I’ve never lost a round and I don’t intend to start now. I won’t subject myself to Penance at my brother’s hands. Whatever we must do, Alitus must endure.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three