Aldric: A Sci-Fi Warrior Romance

by Jane Henry

  “Unpleasantness of hunger?” I ask. “Hunger is a natural human experience. It is deep within our prana vitae.” But I am not going to argue with her. I am weary and hungry, and the little one will eat. She eyes the plate on the table with trepidation. She frowns, as if the wedges of cheese will somehow leap off the plate and nip her fingers.

  “Hunger feels like an emptiness. Sometimes it is painful. It twists and gnaws, the body’s natural reminder to feed.” I reach for the flagon of wine and pour the rich crimson liquid into a tapered glass. I lift it to my lips, and quench my thirst with a long, steady pull. I sigh in contentment as I place the glass on the table. The heat of it warms my chest, the slightly sweet, slightly sour taste sharpening my hunger. I take a large triangle of white cheese and place it wholly in my mouth. She watches me, frowning.

  “I have taken my first sip and morsel of food,” I say with a nod. “So now, you may eat with my permission.”

  She frowns first at me, and then the food. “I am not allowed to eat until you do?”

  My eyes widen in surprise. I have much to teach this young one. “Certainly not. I am the king, and you my woman. You will eat when bidden to do so.” I frown at her. “If I were a cruel master, I would have you perform your acts of service with no nourishment, and consider sending you to bed hungry. However, I wish to be neither cruel nor cossetting, so I will allow you to eat.” She will not appreciate the kindness I am showing her if she does not understand the methods of Avalere.

  Her little lips turn downward. “While I thank you for your generosity,” she mutters, and I detect a strong thread of disrespect in her voice, “I prefer not to eat.” She turns her head away disdainfully.

  I take another wedge of cheese and eat it, followed by several plump purple grapes. I swallow my food, then take another long pull from my glass of wine before I speak to her.

  “I asked if you were hungry,” I say sternly, making sure she heeds the tone of my voice. “I did not ask you if you wanted to eat. Now answer me. Do you feel an emptiness, pain, or discomfort that might indicate hunger?”

  As if in answer to me, her stomach growls. She crosses her arms over her belly, trying to silence her traitorous body. She turns her face away from me. She has not answered me.

  I lean forward and grasp her chin with my fingers, turning her eyes to focus on mine. “When your king asks you a question, you are expected to answer. Now answer me. Do you feel hunger, or no?”

  She nods, her eyes focusing on mine. “I do.” A brief pause, then, “But I do not wish to eat.” She wrinkles her nose in disgust.

  I release her chin and nod. “I see. But I am not giving you a choice in the matter, you see. If you are hungry, you must eat. Now do so, or I shall be forced to feed you myself, but not until I’ve taken you across my knee for your defiance.”

  Her eyes widen. I do not wish to punish her again, but I must teach her to obey me.

  She eyes the food on the plate. Her bravado wanes a bit, and her voice is small when she speaks. “I don’t know what it is, or what I like,” she says. “I…” Her voice falters before she continues. “It is unfamiliar to me.”

  Ah. She is not defiant, but afraid. I nod. “Come here,” I say. Though apprehension colors her eyes, she stands, shuffling her feet as she slowly walks over to me. When she is by my side, I gently push her to sitting upon my knee. “You will try one bite of everything,” I say. I take a small purple grape in my fingers and lift to her mouth. Like a good girl, she opens for the first bite as I put it in her mouth. “Chew, little one,” I say. “This is a grape. It is juicy and sweet, and can be eaten whole without being peeled. We crush and ferment them to make wine.” She obeys, and as she does, her eyes widen.

  She swallows. “That is… I do not have a word,” she says with surprise. “What do you call something that tastes wonderful?”

  I smile. “Delicious?”

  She nods in wonder. “Delicious,” she says, savoring the word as much as she savors the fruit. I am pleased. My kingdom is well known for their flourishing vines.

  I pick up a small wedge of cheese. “Again,” I instruct. She obeys, opening her mouth, and I carefully insert a small corner of the wedge. It is a sharp cheese, tangy and salty. She closes her mouth and chews. “As is that. What do you call it?”

  “This is cheese.”

  “Cheese,” she murmurs. “Delicious.”

  She reaches for another grape. Surprised at her boldness, I swat her hand away. I am feeding her now, and she must defer to my leadership.

  “No, little one,” I chide. She tucks her chin and her eyes cast down. She is chastened. That is a far better response than the flashing eyes and defiance. She is learning quickly. I continue to admonish her. “When your king feeds you, you will wait patiently.”

  “You are not my king,” she says through gritted teeth.

  I spin her around so that she is straddling my lap, facing me, and I grasp her firmly, my fingers cupping her jaw. The temptation to punish her again is strong, but I must keep in mind that she is ignorant of our ways, and it is my job to teach her. “You listen well, woman,” I say. My voice is low, a near growl, as I convey my displeasure at her disrespect. “That circle of women that were brought forth were woman who are subservient to the Hisrach. They voluntarily gave themselves to the military leaders of our planet. You entered our presence as one of them. You made that choice. Thus, choosing you out of the ring, I was given headship over you. I marked you publicly. I am your king.”

  “You are not,” she whispers, shaking her head.

  I am baffled at her defiance. Does she not know what I am well within my rights to do to her? I could have her flogged and imprisoned. I could mount her at my leisure, morning, noon, and night, and call each of my men to do so in turn. I could have her beg at my feet, caged by my bed, and fed the scraps from my plate.

  Lesser men have done this, and more.

  I lean in closer to her, my eyes meeting hers squarely as I speak. “Little one,” I say. “I am not merely your king. I am your master. You would do well to remember that.”

  Chapter Three

  R-482

  I am angry with myself for undertaking this mission. I insisted I would be able to handle the brief, anonymous job. There were others who thought my idea to infiltrate the barbarians as a spy was preposterous. They were perhaps correct. How could I have ever suspected that I would find myself where I am now, sitting upon the knee of a savage who fancies himself king. Bile rises in my throat, and I’m sorely tempted to kick the shin behind my heel. But I am smart enough to know assaulting his majesty again will earn me another chastisement. And he promised me that if I struck him again he’d whip me. Oh, the shame of it all.

  I allow him to feed me, and this is not quite a hardship. Really, after the salve he applied to my battered skin, the only thing that now hurts is my pride. His touch is gentle, his voice soothing, as he speaks to me of the food, what various items are called, from where it came. I nod, feigning interest. What I’m really doing is marking where I am, taking note of possible escape routes, and trying to formulate a plan to get back to my bag. I need to observe the king and his people, and garner the information I need. I must obtain my communication device.

  After a few more bites, he pushes the plate away. I would like more. This is my first time tasting such delicacies, and I do not wish to stop quite yet.

  “Please, may I have more?” I ask.

  “No, little one,” he says with gentle sternness. “Eating too much rich food when you are very hungry could make you ill. The cheese of Avalere is rich and flavorful, but strong. You’ve had enough. Now, you may sip some wine before we retire for the evening, but that is all. I shall call off the servants for the evening so we have our privacy, and then you will sleep by my side.”

  I am utterly horrified at the notion of sleeping beside the savage. I’ve never slept beside another person. I shiver. The savage stands, gently pushing me to my feet, as he leans over and rings the
bell beside him.

  What if he decides to violate me while I sleep? What is to prevent him from making free with my body? I’ve only ever slept alone, in the privacy of my bunk, in the sterile, uniform environment to which I’ve become accustomed. I shiver. Within seconds, the silver-haired woman who fetched the salve for him returns.

  “Yes, my lord?” she asks, her hands folded behind her back.

  “It is time we retire. See we are not woken early in the morning. The little one will need a change of clothing and a basin of warm water with which to wash. Tonight, I prefer she stay with me rather than prepare herself. She will remain in my chambers.”

  The woman nods. “Has she no name, my lord?”

  He raises a heavy brow to me.

  I shake my head. “Name? My reference number is R-482. We are regulated according to our numbers, and find names to be old-fashioned.” I turn and toss my head at the king. “Though he seems to think my name is ‘little one.’”

  She arches a brow and her mouth opens in a little ‘o’ but the savage laughs a deep, bellowing laugh.

  “She has fire, this one,” he says. “It was why I wanted her from the moment I saw her. I cannot abide spineless servitude in my mate, Lystava.”

  She turns to him, her mouth still pursed. “My lord?”

  He nods with a chuckle, stroking his heavy beard. “Make no mistake. She will still learn to obey.” He nods. “She will also have a name.”

  I turn to look at him curiously. Will I, then? If the almighty king says I will, I suppose I will.

  Lystava merely smiles and nods her head. “Very well, my lord.” She brings me what I need shortly, and takes her leave. I am now alone with my king… my supposed master.

  * * *

  All lights have been extinguished. I tremble in the darkness. I look to the window, and see it is large enough for me to get out. But how high is it from the ground? We took a small staircase to get here, and it’s very likely that we are far too high for me to escape that way easily.

  “Come,” he orders. His deep voice carries through the small chamber. It is time. I have little choice but to obey at this juncture. If I obey, I may find it easier to escape when the time is right.

  I have cleaned myself, and prepared myself for bed as best I can. I have no idea what their bedtime rituals are like, but I do know that I am tired. My eyelids droop, my body weary from the exhausting day I have had. Just this morning, I was preparing to embark on a mission to save my people and our planet. Now, I am not sure where I will go or what I will do next. But it only makes sense that I will be better prepared for my task ahead if I can rest first, if he will let me, but I fear the unknown. I know there is nothing he cannot do to me, if he desires. Who will stop him? There is no other choice now but to obey, and plot my escape. I climb into the large bed. It is resting on a wooden frame of sorts.

  This man claims mastery over me. What will he do now that we are alone? His large, hulking frame takes up a good deal of the enormous bed, but there is plenty of room for me as I am much smaller than he is. On Freanoss, I am considered tall. Here, I feel like a mere child.

  Regulation sleeping habits are vastly different from the primitive methods of Avalere. In my climate-controlled environment, I have need only of a small, thin blanket that I use when I rest. I take my regulation supplement for sleep, and shortly thereafter, sleep comes to me easily. I sleep the required amount, and wake as I’ve been trained to. It is a straightforward affair. Now I wonder if I can rest, lying beside the barbarian.

  I feel shy next to him, as he is stripped of nearly all his clothing. Before he extinguished the light, I observed his bare chest in the flickering candlelight. He is strong, this king, his shoulders broad and wide, the hardened muscles in his abdomen rippling when he walks. Somehow the slashes of markings on his shoulders and neck make him seem even more fearsome. Even his hands are so large, he can span my entire waist easily. When I sat upon his knee, I expected to feel like a child, yet I felt anything but childish. I felt the warmth of him surround me, and strange stirrings took root in me in response to his innate power and strength. I did my best to ignore that his touch was gentle, his hand around my waist warm and protective, but as I lay in the dark, the memory returns with vivid clarity.

  It seems I am to wear my light tunic to bed, as he has not instructed me to do anything different. I move to the very edge of the bed, as far away from him as I can get and quietly crawl beneath the covers, my back to him. I am practically falling off the edge. Though I suspect my act of defiance will not be tolerated, I enjoy the brief moment I am apart from him. Will he touch me? I wait in the darkness. He has positioned himself between me and the door.

  “Now, now, little one,” he says. “You will not sleep apart from me. Come closer, please.”

  I begin to tremble, both from fear and cold. He has allowed the fire to die down in the room, and my body is unaccustomed to self-regulation. I wonder what he will do to me. What recourse do I have? I have heard tales of barbarian violations, and the prospect frightens me. What will he have me do? If I disobey him, I will be punished. I suspect he has actually been somewhat lenient with me, and is capable of harsher, more cruel punishments. The pain from my earlier spanking no longer hurts, but the memory of being bent over the table and chastised is still vivid. Reluctantly, I move closer to him, but apparently it is not close enough. His large hand encircles my waist, and he pulls me so that I am flush against his body. I gasp.

  It is his warmth I feel first. It is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Heat exudes from him, the length of his legs against mine, his bare chest against the fabric of my tunic, his arms over me. I am puzzled by my response. Though I am still afraid, the feeling is not altogether unpleasant. It is nice to be warmed, I tell myself. And that is the only reason why I’m almost enjoying the warmth of his embrace, and why my breath has begun to come in shallower gasps. I am losing control of myself, finding that I am eager to be held even tighter by him. I try to move away.

  His arms tighten, his mouth nestles in my hair as he whispers, “No.”

  I close my eyes. I have little choice. Disobeying will earn me punishment.

  He inhales deeply for a moment, and it surprises me when one large hand lifts from my waist and goes to my hair, stroking gently.

  “You are afraid,” he says softly.

  I close my eyes. I do not want to admit fear. Fear is weakness. I am strong.

  “There is no need to hide your fear from me. As your master, it will be my duty to not only teach you obedience, but to see to your needs as well. One led in fear is not as useful to me as one who embraces her submission.”

  I am shocked at the audacity of his words. Useful to him? Embrace my submission? I will never! Though I do not respond, he chuckles, again stroking my hair.

  “You will see,” he says. “Now, come here. Roll over on your back so that I may see you up close.”

  My eyes have now adjusted to the darkness as I reluctantly obey. Moonlight filters in through the window on my side. He reaches out a tender finger to my hairline, tracing the edge of my hair. “Our women have lighter hair than yours,” he says. “The darkness of your tresses gives you the appearance of an enchantress.”

  I stiffen. I know not of what he speaks, and he will not garner a response from me. His finger trails down, over my cheekbones. Though his finger is rough, a warrior’s hands, his touch is gentle.

  “Such soft skin,” he murmurs. It is an odd remark, I think. On Freanoss, nutritional needs are met, and genetic alteration has removed imperfections. Thus, we all have clear, soft, unblemished skin. His finger trails to my lips, as he traces them. Strangely, my heartbeat accelerates. It is an intimate touch. I am torn between wanting to hide, and wanting him to touch me even more.

  “Such full, lovely lips,” he says softly.

  I swallow, as his hand travels lower, to my chin, then down to my neck, as he traces my collarbone. I shiver.

  “Little one,” he says. �
��Have you ever known a man?”

  I shake my head, unable to speak. I have never been touched by people, let alone a man.

  “And yet you are not a child.”

  I shake my head again.

  He smiles at my response. When he speaks, it is to himself. “She is a gift from the gods. A gift I will treasure.” But I barely pay attention to his words, as I am wholly preoccupied with where his touch is leading. My breasts feel full and strange. I have never felt this before, and it frightens me.

  “Your breath is shallow, little one,” he says. “From fear, or anticipation?”

  I know not, so I do not respond. He leans in and my breath catches in my throat as his mouth comes to my forehead. His lips are warm and soft.

  “Hush. It’s just a kiss, little one. And a chaste one at that. Tonight, we must rest.” He sobers, the teasing glint in his eyes fading. “You came to me with no name. That must change. As you are mine, you shall be named by me.” He takes my chin gently in hand and tilts my face to look up at him. “In my people’s tongue, Carina means little one. Henceforth, you shall be called Carina.” He gently pushes me back on my side. He keeps one hand on my hip. “Sleep now, Carina,” he says.

  My mind is filled with many thoughts. My new name. His touch. My fears. As I lay in the bed of a savage in a strange land, I feel the unfamiliar pull of my primal instincts, my breasts tingle and my thighs clench together. It is unsettling to me. I swallow. I cannot allow myself to be seduced by him.

  “And, Carina?” he says softly in the darkness. “Put thoughts of escape to rest. I have trained men at the door, and guards in the garden beneath the window. They have been alerted to your presence. Be sure you do not entertain thoughts of defiance.” He pauses. “You know what will happen if you defy me.” A chill creeps through me.

  I stare in the darkness for a very long time, wishing for the familiar tablet I take before bed at home that beckons sleep, before I finally, pressed up against his warmth at my back, succumb to slumber.