Kieran

by Allyson James

  Felice backed up, slamming her arms over her body to cover herself. “No. I don’t . . .” want you to see me. She couldn’t finish.

  “Felice.” Kieran’s voice slid over her like a warm blanket as he closed his hands around her wrists.

  Felice’s heart beat faster. “All right,” she said, voice harsh. “See?”

  Kieran took a step back, though he kept hold of her wrists, pulling her arms open. He looked her up and down, taking in everything, including the lines of burn scars that snaked from the middle of her chest down to her abdomen.

  Not just burn scars. Brands.

  Kieran gazed at her with calm regard, not shock or disgust. “Who did this to you? The slavers?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “It was done when I chose . . . the life I chose.”

  Felice hadn’t been ashamed of her body at first when the scars had defined what she was. Later they’d changed into a reminder of her naivety and of loss, and she hadn’t liked to reveal them. To herself, to anyone.

  “They do this on Old Earth?” Kieran’s eyes were quiet.

  “No,” Felice said quickly. “On a colony, where I trained. So I could be identified in case of . . . accident.”

  She expected more questions, like what kind of accident could make her unidentifiable except for brands, but he only frowned. “Seems unnecessary. And cruel. I have this.” He lifted her hand and laid it on the chain on his biceps. “It doesn’t come off.”

  The black chain was warm from his skin, flexing with his muscle. “They make people wear this on Bor Narga?” Felice asked.

  “Not everyone.”

  “Only . . . Shareem? What are Shareem, exactly?”

  Kieran watched her face as Felice slid her fingers around the chain on his arm. “You didn’t answer what kind of slave you were,” he said.

  Felice shrugged. “A working one. I’m strong, so they had me do a lot of loading and carrying, that kind of thing. Nothing else,” she said quickly. “It was in the contract.” But loading and carrying meant that she was worked like a draft horse, with far less comfort and care than horses got. “What do they make you do?”

  “Sex,” Kieran said without changing expression. “What did you think? Me especially.”

  “Why you especially?”

  He shrugged. “They tried to make me more of a mindless sex toy than they did the others. Kept experimenting. Thought women would pay more for a Shareem who gave them sex and nothing else. No demands. No strings.” His grin returned. “Except I kept talking. I like to get to know people. So they cut more out of my brain, trying to get me to shut up. One day they stopped. I never knew why.”

  Felice listened in horror. “Good gods. Stopped torturing you, you mean.”

  “The operations didn’t hurt. Not like what they did to Rees. Or Ky.”

  Felice caressed his arm, her heart squeezing in compassion. “They don’t still torture you, do they? Who are these people?”

  “No, they’re all gone. The DNAmo factory is closed, twenty years now, and the experimenters had to run. Shareem aren’t slaves anymore, but we can’t do what we want either. That’s why I was at the dockyards. I . . . Ah, damn it.” Kieran snapped his mouth shut. “See? I talk too much. You didn’t hear me say that, all right? Never heard me. I was never at the dockyards, never met you . . .”

  “But you did meet me.” Listening to his tale made Felice ashamed of her own self-consciousness. “I’m glad you did.” She took a step back and looked down at herself. “But I really would like some clothes.”

  “I don’t know; you look fine to me,” Kieran rumbled. “How about I take mine off too? Would that make you feel better?”

  He pulled open his tunic and shucked it before Felice had time to answer. Then she forgot all about herself as her mouth dropped open, and her eyes widened.

  Kieran wore nothing but a loincloth that rode low on his hips, the rest of his very large body bared to the room.

  He was incredible. His sun-browned skin was like liquid bronze poured over a perfect armature, tight in all the right places. Dark brown hair dusted his chest; a point of it dropped below his abdomen, leading the eye to whatever was under the loincloth. Something very big, it must be, judging by the rest of him. Kieran was a giant of a man, and a beautiful one.

  Felice tried to speak, but only a strangled noise came out. She cleared her throat. “By all the gods, how much do you cost?”

  He frowned. “I don’t know. Calder used to charge for it—he made a fortune. I don’t like to. Ruins the fun to talk about money.”

  Felice let out a breath. “If you say so.”

  Kieran looked her over again, and she realized she was standing without shame in front of him. “See?” he said, gesturing at her body. “You do feel better.”

  Felice automatically folded her arms over her chest again. “Good thing this is a hot climate,” she said with a breathless laugh. “We’d both be freezing our asses off.”

  “No, don’t hide. Come here.”

  Kieran reached for her hand. Felice had no idea why she wanted to take it, but she did. They had only the strip of cloth around his hips between them, and she was happy holding hands.

  Kieran tugged her with him through the open door to the bathroom. He had a half-length mirror on one wall—what for? He looked fine—he didn’t need to check anything.

  Without a word, Kieran pulled Felice in front of him, making her face the mirror.

  It reflected her, hair tangled and messy, her face pale, Felice’s eyes still holding exhaustion and fear. Her body was a white streak against his, her nipples and scars standing out on her now-clean flesh.

  Behind her stood the bronzed god of Kieran, his big hand closed around hers. His blue eyes were the warmest color in the room—the warmest color anywhere.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said in a gentle voice. “You don’t need to cover up for me.”

  Felice studied her reflection again, realizing she hadn’t seen herself in a mirror in a long time. She started to laugh, a little hysterically. “Being half starved didn’t help me lose any weight, did it?”

  Kieran leaned swiftly to her. A sharp pain lanced her ear, the sting of Kieran’s teeth.

  “I said, you’re beautiful.” His voice had changed, becoming smoother and more seductive. His lips hovered at her ear, his breath burning her skin. “Say it.”

  “What . . . ?”

  Another bite to her earlobe, a little harder. “Say it.”

  “You’re beautiful,” Felice blurted. Kieran truly was.

  “Smartass.” His chuckle made her flush with heat and shiver at the same time. “Say it or I’ll spank your ass. Make it all pretty and red.”

  Color flooded Felice’s face. “What?”

  Kieran’s hand smoothed down to the curve of her buttocks. “I’m level three. I know every good way to spank.”

  Felice’s heart pounded in trepidation, but at the same time, his hand on her backside was warm, firm, wonderful. “I don’t understand. I thought you were the slave.”

  “A master of pleasure. I know what you want. I give it to you. I’m level three. I give it to you in ways you don’t know you want it. Until you do.”

  “What, you drive women crazy with riddles?”

  Kieran laughed again, the sound low and warm. “I’m the simplest of all the Shareem. You give yourself to me, and I show you what you are, what you want. When you leave, you’ll have experienced the deepest pleasure imaginable.”

  “You sound different.” His voice, his choice of words—very different from the man who’d helped her get away from the patrollers and commanded her to come out of the bathroom.

  “You switched on the level three,” Kieran said. “This is what they did to me at DNAmo. When I’m switched on, I’m the best level three ever made. Switch me off . . . I’m nothing.”

  “I don’t think you’re nothing,” Felice said in a rush. “You helped me. You’re still helping me. I’ll never forget this.”

/>   Kieran’s eyes flickered, his expression changing from sinful to puzzled and back, so quickly Felice couldn’t be sure she’d seen it. Kieran’s mouth returned to her earlobe. He bit her again, then licked where he’d bitten.

  “If you want me switched off, you have to say.” His words were soft, rumbling. “But I like being switched on with you, Felice.” He brought his other arm around her, resting it across her breasts while he smoothed her hair from her face with his big hand.

  It’s not bad from my side either, Felice told herself, then her thoughts began to blur from tiredness, and Kieran.

  *** *** ***

  I don’t think you’re nothing.

  The words had startled Kieran—and so did the conviction with which Felice said them. Kieran was a pleasure slave, nothing more. The scientists at DNAmo would have been happy if he’d had the blank mind of a robot. Felice was the first person in his life who didn’t automatically assume he was good for nothing but sex.

  Then Felice’s presence began to blot out the bad memories, his desire for her erasing all but the immediate moment.

  Kieran pressed a kiss to her cheekbone, then to the soft, smooth skin of her cheek. She smelled good—sweet spice, the clean scent from her shower, and the tang of a woman aroused.

  Kieran licked her cheek before he took his kisses to the base of her neck, tugging her skin with his teeth. Felice made a soft sound, and the scent of her excitement escalated.

  If he dipped his fingers between her legs, he’d find her wet. Kieran deliberately didn’t, letting her long for his touch. Touching would satisfy her too quickly, and he wanted her to crave it.

  The moisture would start dripping down her thighs, making her shake. She’d move, needing release, and still, Kieran would force her to wait.

  He kissed the top of her spine, then drew his tongue down her back, lowering himself to his knees as he went. He came to rest behind her, kneeling on the bathroom’s hard floor, pressing kisses to the small of her back, licking there.

  Felice made a noise of longing. Kieran scented her need even more, and tucked a kiss between her warm, clean buttocks.

  She gasped. “What are you doing?”

  Kieran licked between her cheeks, letting his tongue dart against her back opening. “Tasting you,” he said. “Finding out about you.”

  She shivered as his breath brushed her. Kieran withdrew and gently turned her to face him. He smiled, liking the view, and kissed her abdomen.

  Her hair between her legs was a wisp of black, glistening and lovely. Many Shareem liked their women shaved, but Kieran preferred the hair to remain, for the woman to be as the gods had made her.

  He was right—Felice was wet, very wet for him. Kieran wanted to drink her, but he’d save it. His skill was to give a woman the very best in pleasure, which might mean he drove her wild with anticipation. He’d made women come without even touching them.

  “You want to have sex with me?” Felice whispered. It wasn’t an invitation—she was requesting information.

  “You want to,” Kieran said.

  Who was he kidding? Kieran’s cock was pounding. He wanted to lay her down and drive into her, never mind bondage play.

  Completely went against his genetic programming. Kieran should be able to hold himself back, to order the woman to do whatever he wanted. He might make her stroke herself until she came, or not allow her to wear clothes—or make her wear certain clothes—until she was coming again and again, releasing harder than she ever had or would after. Kieran might never actually enter her.

  Crazy. He’d die if he didn’t fulfill himself with Felice.

  “What are you doing to me?” Felice choked out.

  “What you need.” Kieran let his fingers drift over her pussy. One finger brushed her damp hair and tickled very near her clit, but not quite. She drew in a breath of both anticipation and disappointment.

  “Not yet,” Kieran said. “You’re wet and ready.” Kieran drew his fingers along the damp of her inner thighs. “But not yet.”

  “Why? I’ve had sex before. Never with a stranger, but . . .”

  “Shh.” Kieran touched his fingertips to her swirl of hair, as he would press her lips to stop her words. “When you’re ready, you’ll be so greedy for it that you won’t be able to think of anything else. You’ll be begging me, you’ll do anything I tell you, no matter how wild. When you reach that stage—then, I go inside you. Not until.”

  “I won’t beg.” Felice’s voice was shaky. “And I’m tired of being told what to do.”

  “I know.” Kieran pressed another kiss to her abdomen. “That’s why I’ll go easy on you. But you and me . . . in the end . . . we’ll come together. I promise to make it incredible for you.”

  Felice gave a little laugh. “You’re not conceited or anything.”

  “It’s only truth.” He blew gently on her curls, knowing his breath touched her clit. Yes, very wet.

  She let out a soft moan, and Kieran leaned forward and kissed her. He licked her moisture from his lips, the taste of fine woman.

  A loud chime sounded, followed by a hollow thumping on the door.

  Felice instantly went from relaxed and needy to numbness and fear. She tore herself away from Kieran, shot across the tiny room, and huddled against the wall of the shower.

  Damn it. Kieran rose slowly, trying to keep her calm, while his own body snarled in protest. He wanted to ignore the thumping, but it might be patrollers out there. If he didn’t answer, they could override the lock and come on in anyway.

  He silently turned and walked out, touching the controls to close the bathroom door behind him.

  Kieran stopped bothering to hide his annoyance at being interrupted, and slapped open the front door to find another Shareem in front of him, in a feat of very bad timing.

  “What?” Kieran growled.

  Braden, the Shareem in question, blinked at him. “Rees is looking for you; what did you think?” His surprised faded as his blue eyes went deeper blue. He inhaled, his Shareem senses knowing what a stupid-ass patroller would never have sussed. “Shit, Kieran,” Braden said. “You have a woman in here.”

  Chapter Four

  Kieran glared at his friend and pretended to be nothing more than irritated at his untimely visit. “Of course I have a woman in here, butthole. I’m Shareem.”

  “Yeah.” Braden was a level three, like Kieran, and before he’d met the love of his life he’d been known to go on weeklong sex benders with half a dozen women at a time. He had no room to be annoyed at Kieran for pausing to take some pleasure. “I know, but—” Braden glanced uneasily at the street behind him. “Let me in. It’s hot.”

  “It’s always hot.” Kieran growled, but he stepped aside so Braden could enter. If he slammed the door in Braden’s face, the next person to arrive would be Rees, and Kieran knew he couldn’t fool Rees.

  “So, where is she?” Braden asked, looking around.

  “Shy,” Kieran said impatiently. “Leave her alone.”

  Braden breathed in, his face relaxing. Kieran knew he could scent pheromones on the air, would be able to guess exactly what techniques Kieran had begun. Level threes understood level threes.

  “This is a really bad time for it,” Braden said. “Who is the woman? Highborn? Off-worlder?”

  “Off-worlder.” Kieran clamped his mouth shut over the interesting detail that she came from Old Earth. He felt his tongue want to say it, his mind making him want to blurt the truth.

  “That’s good, at least. Get your fix, but don’t take your time about it. Rees wants to talk.” Braden kept looking around the room, as though he’d find Felice hiding behind the sofa.

  “She’s in the bathroom,” Kieran said.

  Braden took a step closer to him. Kieran didn’t like other Shareem in his personal space—he liked to be top Dom, and he didn’t enjoy sharing. “You know you can’t say anything to anyone,” Braden said in a low voice. “Not even accidentally, during sex.”

  Kieran scowled
at him. “I only talk about sex during sex. And the woman only screams. No distractions.”

  Braden gave him a nod. “I figured you didn’t show up for a good reason. Rees was afraid you’d got caught.”

  “I did get caught. But they let me go.”

  Braden tensed. “Yeah? When were you going to tell Rees?”

  “When I’m done here. Now go away, so I can get back to it.”

  “Rees will have your balls on a plate if you don’t hurry,” Braden warned.

  “Rees can get over himself. I don’t rush.”

  “Fine. Whenever you can take a break from your fabulous sex routine, get your ass to Judith’s. All right? Or Rees will have my balls on a plate.”

  “No, he won’t.” Kieran leaned the half inch down to Braden’s face. “Go away.”

  Braden raised his hands and stepped back. “Right, right. I’m going. But remember this, Kieran.” Braden’s expression turned serious. “No one gets left behind. No one.”

  “Not even messed-up Shareem,” Kieran finished, impatient. “I know. Rees told me about twenty times. We all have a part to play. That’s another thing he said.” He gave Braden a pointed look. “You’re still here.”

  Braden made a noise of exasperation. “You’re a fuckhead, Kieran. But I get it. Sex before everything. I’ll tell Rees you’ll be around soon.”

  Kieran didn’t bother saying thank you. Braden might say you’re welcome, and then linger to talk some more. Braden gave Kieran one last look, slapped open the front door, and walked out into the heat.

  Kieran closed the door, locked it, and returned to the bathroom. He opened that door, then stopped his stride in the doorway.

  Felice lay in the shower, huddled into herself, her body limp, her eyes closed. Her dark hair, already tangling in the desert air, straggled over her face.

  An emotion—one of those things DNAmo had tried to eradicate from Shareem, Kieran in particular—moved him. Pity. Felice was exhausted, scared, and far from everything she knew.

  Kieran lifted her, liking how easy and natural it felt to cradle her body in his arms. She didn’t wake as Kieran carried her out of the bathroom and into his bedroom.