The Starlight Rite

by Cherise Sinclair

  “To have you reach climax? Make you whimper with pleasure?” He slid in and out and enjoyed the way her heart rate increased. By Cernun, if he stayed inside her and teased her much more, he’d end up taking her again. He sighed. He didn’t have time to spend the day in bed.

  And now that he wasn’t occupied, he realized his knee ached like someone was poking knives into the bone. With regret, he pulled out of her, enjoying the flash of dismay in her eyes. Much as she wanted to deny it, she’d enjoyed herself as fully as he had.

  Lying beside her, he propped up on one elbow. The scent of shulin filled the air, and he could smell himself on her. He liked that small sign of possession. Smiling, he ran one hand over her breasts. They were so beautifully lush, he couldn’t keep his hands off.

  “Let me loose,” she demanded.

  “Did you just give me an order?” he asked mildly.

  When he pinched the velvety nipple under his fingers, her breath caught, and a telling shiver ran through her.

  Ah, did she enjoy a touch of pain with her pleasure? To test the idea, he said, “I believe you might want to curtail your tongue, little thief. Indentured slaves may be beaten. Would you like my hand applied to your ass?”

  “You wouldn’t,” she gasped.

  With his palm on her breast, he felt her pulse increase. From the way her pupils dilated slightly, she found the idea of being beaten—by him—exciting.

  “Oh, but I would,” he murmured. Under his thumb, her nipple had contracted to a tight point.

  And he hardened. By Cernun’s spear, he needed to get out of this bed before he taught her all about pain and pleasure. “Get up and have some breakfast, my thief. A seamstress should be here by midmorning.”

  * * *

  That evening, in an emerald green gown of heavy satin, Mella accompanied Dain up a grassy path to an elegant stone mansion. Her fingernails dug into her palms as she tried to conceal her trembling.

  Dain glanced at her. “You look lovely, laria. Stop fretting.”

  Sure, she looked fine, but being so visible terrified her. Would Nathan come to this planet? And what if the Nexan enforcers who’d tried to kill her were here? How had Nathan managed to hire the police to do his dirty work, anyway? If only there weren’t cops involved, she could have turned to them for justice. If only she weren’t on a foreign planet; on Earth, she’d have had people to call upon for help. A shiver went through her as she thought of all the things that might go wrong tonight.

  Dain stopped and leaned on his cane. His warm fingers curled around her bare upper arm. “Now that I think about it, you aren’t fidgeting with your hair or gown. Your appearance isn’t what worries you.” He held her in place as he studied her. “What are you afraid of?” he asked softly.

  Could she tell him? Would he believe her and protect her? The thought of sharing her fears, her betrayal with someone was so compelling. “I—”

  “Dain!” a woman’s voice called from the entry. A willowy brunette in a glittering silver gown hurried down the path. She elbowed Mella to one side and wrapped her arms around Dain. “Where have you been for the past month?”

  Dain set the woman from him and glanced at Mella. “I will require an answer to my question later,” he warned before returning his attention to the woman. “Atrilla, you look lovely tonight. Let me escort you back to the house.” Yet rather than offering his arm to the woman, he pulled Mella to his side, his arm like an iron band around her waist.

  Atrilla raised thin eyebrows and looked down an equally thin nose at Mella. “Really, Dain. Did you have to bring your unshuline?”

  “I enjoy her company.” His tone was mild, but his voice had turned to ice.

  Silenced, the brunette excused herself even before they reached the house. Mella understood completely. Dain had a talent for intimidation that was worthy of a divine interrogator. A rather odd talent for a businessman, but probably quite useful in long meetings.

  At the door, a butler in red livery bowed low, then motioned them into a marble-floored entry. They walked through open double doors into a huge ballroom with a high-domed ceiling. When Mella looked closely at the arched windows, she could see heavy metal gridwork outside the glass. Flying predators… What a strange world.

  People crowded the center of the room, weaving an intricate dance to music reminiscent of the Renaissance period. Around the edges, others mingled. Only a few lighter-skinned foreigners were sprinkled among the Nexans. The excessively tall Nexans, Mella thought, feeling like a fat dwarf. After another look, she realized the males outnumbered the females by almost three to one. “Don’t Nexan women enjoy parties?” she asked. “There are hardly any here.”

  “On Nexus, male births have always outnumbered female. It’s why many marriages have two or three men to one woman.”

  Mella blinked in surprise. “A marriage is one man and one woman.”

  He gave her an amused look. “Not on Nexus. Actually, kinlines known for dominant males tend to have one on one, except for the Arewells. But in the less…ah…testosterone-laden families, multiple males in a marriage are common.”

  Heavens. No wonder the Prophet had only bad things to say about this planet.

  Dain chuckled and ran a finger down her cheek before moving on.

  As she and Dain made their slow way around the room, everyone greeted him. Mella received several interested glances before the men spotted her indenture bracelets, and then they stared at her like a stray mongrel in a fancy kitchen. Reproving looks directed at Dain bounced off him—or perhaps he didn’t even notice. She’d never met a man so self-confident.

  Even his mother’s annoyance didn’t budge his equilibrium. “Dain, I left word for you not to bring this—your slave,” the older woman hissed.

  “How are you, Mother?” Dain gave her a formal embrace. “You look lovely, as always.”

  “Dain, did you hear me?”

  “I believe you’ve met Mella,” he said, a hint of steel in his voice.

  His mother tightened her lips before giving Mella a frozen nod. “Good evening.”

  Mella returned the nod. “Ma’am.”

  The woman frowned at her son and then sighed. “Please do not do anything else to embarrass the clan.”

  Dain tilted his head in lieu of an answer. His mother walked away, spine rigidly straight. She nodded at two black-clad enforcers as she passed.

  A tremor ran through Mella at the sight of the black uniforms and zappers. When Dain moved toward them, Mella dug in her heels. She couldn’t stay here any longer. What if those two enforcers who’d killed Cap and her crew came to the party? “I can wait outside. In the carriage. Or on the—”

  “No, laria.” His attention turned to her like a powerful spotlight. “I prefer you with me.”

  Anger lit inside her like a tiny flame. “And do you always get what you want?”

  “Not always, no.” Wrapping his hand around the back of her neck, he dragged her closer. His warm breath tickled her ear as he whispered, “But with a little unshuline? Always.”

  The feel of his firm hand sent chills through her, as if he had her in his bed again, and when he pulled back, she could only stare helplessly into his dark gray eyes. Smiling, he rubbed his knuckles against her cheek. “Come, little thief. I have two or three more friends I wish to see. Then we can leave.”

  Over the next half an hour, as he talked with various people about planetary policies and new laws, Mella realized just how powerful a man he was. Great choice of victim to rob, she thought bitterly. Yet his arm around her seemed more for protection than humiliation. Despite the raised eyebrows, not one person offered her anything less than a polite greeting.

  “Remember the ship that blew up at the port recently?”

  The question caught Mella’s attention, and she stiffened, looking for who had spoken. She finally spotted an elderly woman, her gown crusty with sequins, who confided in her friend, “I just found out on the infonet today—the ship belonged to Armelina Archer. Such
a tragedy.”

  “Oh my. I didn’t know. May Ekatae be gentle with her,” the other woman said, putting a hand over her ample breasts. “Her ‘Lament for a Lost Spring’ is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. I cry every time the clanae lets us play it.”

  My last song. She’d written it after her little sister’s death and, hidden in the church alcove, had sung it for the first and only time at the funeral. Someone must have recorded it. As she thought about that day, she remembered the darkness inside the church with even the stained-glass windows appearing somber. As the coffin lid was lowered, she’d felt as if her heart were being buried in the metal box with her sister.

  Now surrounded by music and light, Mella rubbed her chest, feeling the rhythmic pulse. Her heart was alive again, and somewhere along the way, her loss had become less devastating, the ache more distant.

  She huffed a laugh. And now that she could consider living, the monster had targeted her for death. Life is just full of surprises.

  Hard fingers raised her chin, tilting her face up for inspection. “Are you all right, laria?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Try again.”

  “You didn’t buy my emotions along with my body.” With a sarcastic bite, she added, “Sir.”

  To her surprise, he only laughed. “The title sounds pleasing coming from your lips.” His finger traced her mouth, leaving tingles in its wake. “And I bought everything, my little thief, including your emotions.”

  When Dain turned his attention toward two men and a woman, Mella breathed a sigh of relief. She stood silently with his arm around her, her bought-and-paid-for emotions swirling through her like jangling harp strings.

  The next person Dain greeted was a Nexan woman with a lighter complexion than most. “Triscana, I didn’t realize you’d come to the city.”

  The woman’s gaze dropped. “Kinae Dain.”

  After hooking his cane over his arm, Dain lifted Triscana’s face until she looked up at him. He smiled. “I have fond memories of our time together.”

  The woman flushed and whispered, “As do I, sir.” When someone hailed her from nearby, Triscana flitted away after giving Dain a very warm look. An…inviting look, Mella thought, unsettled at the annoyance curling within her.

  “Dain, you old wulkor. How’s the knee?” called a muscular man in black pants and a dark tunic with red embroidery. He strode through the crowd toward them, people parting before him as they did for Dain.

  “Blackwell, I looked for you earlier.” Dain grinned and clasped the man’s forearm. “My leg is improving.”

  “Then why the cane?”

  Mella felt shame sweep through her, abrading her self-respect. I hurt a person for my own gain. She waited miserably for Dain to tell his friend.

  “I bumped it the other day. I hear you’re negotiating a generation contract.”

  “Your news is outdated, wulkor. My very fainthearted proposed mate failed to win my approval.” Blackwell’s face tightened, and then he shrugged. “The thought of shulin with me frightened her; living in our clanhome made her quake. What kind of timid child would she have borne me? The clanae agreed.”

  “With the way your clanae checks genes, I’m surprised she wasn’t weeded out long ago,” Dain said.

  “Perhaps she’d never had the opportunity for a good scare,” Blackwell added drily, “until she met me.” His gaze turned to Mella, and his icy blue eyes examined her as if she were a mannequin on display. “Interesting, Dain. You go from never buying an unshuline to bringing one to a party. But she appears a nicely soft choice.”

  “Thank you. I’m quite pleased.”

  The man’s grin lightened his rough face. “Bring her with you to the LastDay festivities. She’d be a pleasure to share.”

  Share? Mella ventured a look up at her owner, met his eyes. He smiled slowly. “I’ll consider it.”

  Chapter Seven

  The chill, late-night air carried the scent of the spice fields as the horses clopped down the dirt road. Dain held the reins with one hand and kept an arm around Mella’s curvy body, pointing out various Nexan plants and animals. More relaxed since they’d left the party, she actually argued with him on which ones had been carried over from Earth with the first colonists. Finding out that horses—and people—were the only imports that had not been radically mutated rather shocked her.

  Dain watched the Earther’s reactions on the slow journey to the enclave. Apparently, on Earth, everyone traveled in enclosed hovercars. Although Nexan used solacars during ’stal migrations and when in a hurry, most preferred a horse and carriage. The world, like women, should be savored slowly.

  Only two moons, Morrgan and Neman, rode high in the sky by the time Dain guided the animals through the gate and to the back of the enclave. The stableman took the reins from Dain and jerked his head toward the clanhome. “Think you might be needed in there, Kinae.”

  Even from the yard, Dain could hear the uproar. Taking Mella’s hand, he limped inside.

  “Kinae, thank Cernun you’ve returned.” The clan butler hurried down the hall.

  After divesting himself and Mella of their outer garments, Dain turned his attention back to the butler. “What’s going on, Yorest?”

  “Wardain cut his hand playing with his father’s sword, and Felaina took the child to the hospital by solacar.”

  “All right. So what is the problem?”

  “The problem is that Nanny Solanta left yesterday to visit her grandchildren, and the new girl is useless.” Yorest sniffed contemptuously. The Hermest kinline had served the Zarain clan for centuries and made up the majority of the servants on the estate. But Dain’s sister had wanted a younger nanny and had hired one from the upstart Junant kinline instead. “Cannalaina is having hysterics, and Reblaini won’t stop crying.”

  Dain scrubbed his face. He’d rather face a Port City riot than deal with his young nieces when they were upset. They had inherited all Felaina’s stubbornness. “I’ll see what I can do.” He took a step forward, reached back, and grabbed Mella’s hand. “Come, little Earther. I need reinforcements.”

  “But…”

  Felaina’s family rooms lay on the west side of the house, decorated in the green colors she loved. Standing in the tiny hallway to the bedrooms, Dain winced at the sound of screeching and courageously assigned himself Cannalaina’s room. He deserved a medal for this. He pointed Mella toward the other room from which he could hear sobbing. “Reblaini is five, and she gets upset if her mother or Nanny Solanta aren’t here.”

  “But…”

  Trying not to smile at the horrified look on the little Earther’s face, Dain stepped into Canna’s room and shut the door behind him. He surveyed the situation and sighed. Maybe he should have stayed in the militia; it would have been safer.

  Kneeling in the center of her bed, the slender seven-year-old pounded the mattress with her fists. In the corner, the thoroughly cowed young nanny wrung her hands. Dain gave the nanny credit for not having fled; the noise level was worse than a Port City bar during festival.

  At least Canna didn’t normally act like this. Neither her mother nor Nanny Solanta would have permitted it. But they weren’t here, and she couldn’t be allowed to think she could trample people with impunity. The Zarain kinline prided itself on self-control. Leaders didn’t have tantrums—more’s the pity.

  So.

  He plucked her mechanical clock off the wall and strolled over to the bed. Setting it in front of Canna, he tapped the unit. Her gaze dropped to the timepiece, although her screaming didn’t abate. Personally, he thought a single swat on the bottom would be an appropriate punishment, but corporal discipline was left up to immediate family and the clanae, which, thank Cernun, Dain wouldn’t be for many years.

  “Cannalaina, I tire of the noise.” He spoke loudly enough that she could hear his voice. “For each minute it continues, I will toss a toy out the window. In the morning, those toys will go to the hospital as gifts.”

&nb
sp; Only a second’s pause indicated she’d heard.

  After one minute, he threw a stuffed felin out the narrow arched window.

  The screams grew louder.

  Two minutes. A kaleidoscope hit the grass.

  On the way past the shelves, he picked up a stuffed canin with round paws and floppy ears—one he knew was a favorite.

  Silence.

  She glared up at him, looking so much like her mother had as a child that he almost swept her up in a hug. But rewards and affection were for proper behavior, not tantrums. He put his hands behind his back. “You will offer suitable apologies to me, to your nanny, and tomorrow to Yorest for this disgraceful display. When your mother returns, you will explain to her what you have done and accompany her to the hospital to give your two toys away. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Unka Dain.” Her eyes brimmed with tears. He rarely spoke harshly to her, and it seemed his anger bothered her more than the loss of the toys. She took a shuddering breath. “I am sorry for m-my—what I did.”

  He considered, decided the apology was sincere, and wrapped an arm around her. “Forgiven, Niece. Give the rest of your apologies. Then Nanny will help you prepare for bed.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  His lips curved as his memory brought back another voice saying Sir. He should check how Mella was doing. Undoubtedly not well, since no one could console Reblaini. But as he stepped out into the hall, he heard only silence. Fear hit him. Surely she wouldn’t have hurt the child…

  And then he heard Rebli’s high, sweet voice. “Sing another one, Mella? It makes the hurty part go away.”

  A husky laugh. “Well, we can’t have a hurty part. All right, then. This is a song my mama used to sing to me.”

  Amazing. Dain took a step in that direction, then froze as her voice lifted into an ancient Earth lullaby. What a voice. Clear yet resonant, filled with so much emotion that his chest tightened. He usually preferred instrumentals to vocals, but he could have listened to her all night. As could his niece, obviously.