“I’m with the Royal Tattler. We know our nobles. I’m Kella, by the way.”
Thann had manipulated the swing to the starting platform for the acrobatics display and was climbing down the ladder to the mezzanine. “Milad--er, Meiji, I guess. I don’t remember a whole lot yet.” She lifted her chin. “I’m not going back to the Spires, though.”
“I’m not exactly all-access with that crowd.” Kella said. She glanced at the prone figure of the old assassin, lying in champagne. He groaned. “But I do have a contact or two.” She helped Meiji to a sitting position. “I saw what you did. You should be lying on the stage with a broken neck!”
Meiji shook her head. “I fill in, sometimes, for the zero-gee dancers. I know how to move in the air.”
“It’s okay,” Kella whispered. “You don’t have to hide from me.” She lifted her hand. Liquid, seemingly out of nowhere, formed mist between her fingertips, which coalesced into water droplets that dripped down her wrist. “I’m a Shaper, too. Water.”
Meiji shook her head. “I’m not.” She pointed upward. “The grav nullifier has a passive field about three meters out from its surface, even when it’s turned off. I just had to get high enough to hit it.” She gestured around the mezzanine, with its warm pools of light glowing from the wall sconces, richly-papered walls, and ornate wainscoting that hid smart-panels filled with electronics and sensors. “Ship of illusion, remember?”
Kella thought for a moment, then frowned. “Girl, I’mma let you keep that story if it helps you sleep at night. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Old Grumpus here seems to want to make you go away.”
Thann emerged from the column behind Kella. “Meiji!” He dropped to his knees--in the puddle of champagne she still sat in--and swept her up into his arms.
Meiji’s arms went around him and she felt his heart thundering against hers like a fusion coil that had found its paired resonance. “Thann,” she murmured. Memories were coming back into her mind--flashes, pictures, and sensations that didn’t yet make sense, but she knew they would. EV-AD’s diagnostic pulse blinked a subdued heartbeat in the bottom corner of her augmented reality overlay, and she knew--remembered--that his voice would soon speak in her ear, providing her with extra information about the world around her.
“House Michado and House Zalco may not ally. The Trust forbids it.” The old man next to her grunted out as he pushed up to a sitting position.
Kella stepped forward. “Do I have to hose you down again?”
He struggled to his feet. “The Trust cannot allow an alliance of such glaring imperfection.”
Kella rolled her eyes. “Nobles,” she said in disgust. “Thank the ancestors you make me money, otherwise I’d have zero use for the lot of you.”
Meiji’s memories were beginning to stream into her head, no longer short-circuited by the malfunction in EV-AD’s implant. Particularly, the memory of the alliance petition ceremony in the Academy’s amphitheater. It all came rushing back--the anticipation, the humiliation of enduring the Trust’s invasive prodding, and the heartbreak of hearing the rejection pronounced in front of everyone. She lost her breath again and leaned away from Thann. “It was me who failed the alliance. I wasn’t...flawless.”
“That’s a load of brok-crap if I ever heard it.” Kella’s acerbic tone cut through the haze of sudden pain in Meiji’s heart, made all the more bitter because she hadn’t been living with it for the past two years.
EV-AD’s voice spoke softly in her ear. Mistress, my updates are yet incomplete, but there have been a number of scholarly and academic articles indexed that dispute the Trust’s ruling on your alliance with Master Thann. No documented reasoning exists to prevent you from marrying, save the Trust’s own interdiction.
“The Michado heiress has been contracted in absentia in a Trust-sanctioned alliance with Borad of House Kush. And since she is the heir of her house, the alliance must be honored.”
“Nope, sorry.” Kella lifted her hands to block the old man’s view of the couple. “Heiress Michado was declared officially dead six months ago, according to governmental records.”
“Which can be rescinded by the Trust.” Garibaldi--perhaps no longer intent on killing her, but she had no idea how high the setting on his charge rifle was set to--countered Kella’s argument as he shouldered the charge-rifle and produced a pair of stun-restraints that seemed oddly familiar to Meiji.
As she stepped back, his arm shot out, in a move much faster than expected for a man of his age, and he snapped the stun-restraint around her ankle. The electrical buzz traveled up her calf and she went rigid. “As long as there’s proof of life.”
Meiji tried to move her limbs, but the restraint held her rigid. “N-no--”
Thann kicked the man’s hand away. “No! I won’t let you, the Trust, or any noble House split us up again!” He sprang to his feet and pulled Meiji completely out of the man’s reach. Meiji’s limbs felt like dead weights. How did Rashid do this in a water tank every night?
Garibaldi pushed to his feet and linked his arm through Meiji’s immobilized one. “There are--protocols! If an alliance--is contracted--then it must be--fulfilled!” As he dragged her through the puddle of champagne, he grunted between words. Meiji’s body was stiff and unwieldy, the stun-restraints’ weak electric field keeping her from doing anything more than blinking.
He brought the charge-rifle around again. “You--were always--a loose end--for the peerage.” Meiji’s guts turned to water as he aimed the rifle at Thann.
All she could do was make a weak sound in her throat. No! Not when we’ve just found each other again!
She saw Thann’s spine stiffen. Another memory tripped into existence. Cuddling with him in the backseat of a flitter. Thann’s hand lifted to brush a stray curl from her face.
When you look at me that way, you don’t see the fourth son.
And you don’t see a strategic merger. Yet we show those faces to the world.
Only for as long as we have to. They don’t know what’s behind the illusion.
Illusion! Meiji thought as the feeling suddenly returned to her leg. Of course! The stun-restraints did come from Rashid’s stash! They were meant for the stage, timed to release him well before he ran out of breath in the water tank as a failsafe.
Garibaldi lifted the rifle. Thann lifted his chin.
Meiji lifted her leg and swung it out from behind Thann, catching the rifle stock so the energy bolt fired up into the ruched-silk ceiling.
Fifteen
Everything happened at once, or so it seemed. Kella barreled into Garibaldi, taking him down with another burst of double-barreled champagne, while Thann’s hand shot out to tear the rifle from the old man as he went down, while Meiji shook the stun-restraint free from her ankle.
With Garibaldi laid flat out behind them, Kella led the pair of reunited lovers through the access hallways of the ship towards the shuttle bay. Palma, of all people, met them at an intersection. “Been looking all over for you, girl.” The imposing woman sized her up in less than a minute, then nodded. “Always knew this day would come.” Her mouth turned down. “Folk up there don’t much like opening that gilded cage.”
Kella shook her head. “They’re flying the coop. That Cultural Trust has it in for her.”
“Over my dead body.” Palma put her hands on her hips. “What’s your story, fizz-tits?”
“She’s a gossip-feed stringer.” Thann said, his hand locked firmly around Meiji’s.
“Journalist,” Kella corrected. “I’m also a sucker for a star-crossed love story, and you two could cross the whole Star Empire with yours. But you can’t stay here.”
“My family can’t know about Meiji.” He glanced down at her. “And I won’t leave her again.”
“I never wanted to go back to Landfall,” Meiji said. “I’ve been trying to get on one of the big colony ships that’s going through the N’Tar Cloud at the end of the Coronation. I’ve been rejected.” She lowered her head. “Not enough history t
o pass the background check.”
Thann gazed down into her eyes. “I can fix that,” he said.
“I can fix it better,” Kella retorted. A transmission pinged from her neural to his. “Take a shuttle, go to these coordinates in orbit around Altria.”
“Take a lot of money, because the Independent stations are going to want bribes.” Palma reached into her coveralls and pulled out a sack the size of both her fists. “This should start you out.”
Meiji gaped. “Palma, that’s your savings--”
Thann pushed the purse back into Palma’s hand. “I have more than enough.”
Meiji threw herself into Palma’s embrace. “Take it back down to Itaru. They need it more.”
Kella still spoke. “When you get there, check the boards for the Starspray. If you pull your weight on board as crew, she’ll get you onto one of those colony ships.”
“Again, why?” They came to a halt outside the shuttle hangar bay.
Kella shrugged. “Like I said, I’m a sucker for star-crossed love. Someday, I’ll turn this into a five-star holo-drama the likes of which this system has never seen.” She unfocused for a moment, then re-focused. “Would you be okay with parting with a bio-sample?” This, she asked of Meiji.
Meiji glanced at Thann, shrugged, then nodded. Kella pulled one of the glasses from the holster at her waist. “Just lick this. It should be enough.” At Meiji’s inquisitive glance, she looked away, then back again. “Somebody needs to stick it to the Trust. Just to prove it can be done.”
Thann turned to Meiji. “The Trust robbed me of two years with you.”
Meiji glanced at Kella, who opened the door. The House Zalco shuttle waited for them, the logo no longer sending shards of pain through her skull. “I’m okay with stealing the rest of our lives back from them.”
Hands linked, they stepped into the shuttle bay. As the shuttle lifted off and left the past behind them, the bright lights of LS Quantum’s dazzling illusions and ephemeral delights faded into a starlit blackness where nothing was certain except true love, but anything was possible.
THE END
The Adventure Continues…
in Scions of the Star Empire.
Privilege is a prison, and scandal is as good as scholarship and the only true freedom comes with the title of Scion.
Thann and Meiji have escaped the oppressive rules of Landfall’s elite, but they’re not the only ones looking for a way out. See the Scandal that started it all, and what came after for the Scions of the Star Empire.
Continue Your Reading Adventure at
Scions of the Star Empire
Join the Private Readers’ Group at
www.Readers.AthenaGrayson.com/StarEmpire
About Athena Grayson
Athena Grayson likes kickass heroines, big-brained and sexy beta heroes who aren’t afraid of strong women or their own feelings, and stories that turn the genre tropes sideways. If you’re looking for something a little unexpected, a little more, and a lot of fun…this is your kinda place.
Read More from Athena Grayson at
www.AthenaGrayson.com
Educated By The Master
Cailin Briste
She’s new to kink. He’s a BDSM Master with eighteen days to educate her.
Trey Johannsen’s preference is to stick to managing a private BDSM club on Beta Tau. It’s dark. It's sexy. The cries of pleasure, the thud of a flogger, and the mingled scents of arousal and fear are evidence he’s damn good at it.
So, when his boss insists Trey’s perfect for assisting a new hire to develop a BDSM cabaret, Trey is nonplussed. How the hell do you make burlesque accurate? Then he meets her, and instant attraction has him imagining peeling her clothes off, tying her to a bed, and sexually dominating her until she can take no more.
When Patsy O’Shaughnessy first lays eyes on BDSM master Trey Johannsen everything about him impresses her. Providing him a personal tour of the on stage and behind-the-scenes workings of the Cosmic Cabaret isn’t a problem. Withstanding the sheer sexiness of the ultra-masculine hunk while he educates her about BDSM? That’s going to take some doing.
Not that she plans to suggest hands-on training. No, the move from stage manager at the Cosmic Cabaret to creative director for a new venue is something she can’t blow. But if Trey Johannsen thinks experience is the best teacher, who is she to disagree?
One
It hadn’t occurred to Trey that LS Quantum and Beta Tau were two sides of the same coin. Sure, LS Quantum was a spaceship, and Beta Tau was a planet. But he’d read LS Quantum’s brochures, and in every other respect they were the same large, climate-controlled settings designed to provide trendsetting pleasure venues to paying customers and entertainment for all ages and palates, including his own kinky tastes.
The insight came when a middle-aged woman eased alongside him, brushing her shoulder against his and asking if he was headed to LS Quantum and if so, where his cabin was located on the ship. Her skimpy halter, skintight slacks, and the bright pink hair she was sporting did nothing to enhance her appeal. This was Beta Tau all over. The glare he aimed at her didn’t force her to step back. Good gods! I’d be at Quantum’s shuttle service gate if Patsy O’Shaughnessy hadn’t insisted on meeting me here. He scanned the customers of the bland space station lounge. No. Still on my own.
An expert at fending off tourists on Beta Tau, he’d offer to take them to the club, tie them up, and use a bullwhip on them. Most scurried away. He handed anyone who accepted his proposition over to staff at the club. Bondage was part of his personal kink, but he preferred to use a flogger. The whip was the specialty of the Whip Hand’s owner, Randolph Meryon, Trey’s boss.
The neon-haired tourist ran a finger down his upper arm. “Maybe we could get together on board? I’ve heard bald men are really good in bed.”
When he dropped his gaze to where she’d touched him, the woman tittered. Eyes narrowed, he leveled his full focus on her. “Sure. If you’re into knife play, I might be able accommodate you. I’d have to ask my girlfriend. She’s the one who does the cutting.” He followed his words with a feral grin.
The tourist turned pale. “No thanks.” She scuttled back to her friends who’d been watching the exchange. Wide-eyed, they left the lounge, several looking back over their shoulders to get another glance at him.
With a grimace, he settled in to wait. This wasn’t a vacation, and he wasn’t a tourist. Nor was he on his way to Quantum, away from his normal haunts on Beta Tau, to indulge in BDSM. No, he had undertaken this two-week-long trek in his capacity as the Whip Hand’s private club manager. Rand had hired a young woman to open and run a new venue on Beta Tau based on the Cosmic Cabaret, one of the famous attractions on LS Quantum. After getting firsthand experience of the cabaret’s shows, Trey was to provide his BDSM expertise to tailor O’Shaughnessy’s plans.
Crazy idea. At least I didn’t have to travel economy class and spend my nights in a sleep tube. Rand had paid for a cabin that, although small, had allowed Trey to escape most human interaction for the two weeks he’d been aboard the space liner, sleeping, reading, meditating, and sleeping some more. Perhaps his reintroduction into the hum and clatter of humanity after his break had him on edge.
No perhaps about it. He was ready to bellow at the entire spaceport to shut up. Life would be so much better if half the population were fitted with ball gags.
Here he was, per Ms. O’Shaughnessy’s request, and she was not to be found. He eyeballed the entrance, considering whether he should head over to the gate to wait for his shuttle, when a shock of color came flying into the lounge. The slender woman, dressed in a bright, grass-green sleeveless blouse and short skirt, skidded to a halt. Splashed across her face was a wide grin as brilliant as the lime green that tipped the ends of her copper hair. She was looking straight at him. This must be Patsy O’Shaughnessy. With a wave she headed for him.
“Hi. Sorry I’m late. Ya wouldn’t believe the crush of folks leavin’ Quantum today. I�
��m Patsy. Trey Johansson. Right? Mr. Meryon sent your picture, so I recognized ya. Although I don’t expect there’s many men that look quite like ya.”
When she paused for a breath, Trey inserted a few words into her verbal onslaught. “Yes. I am.”
“I’m excited to meet ya. And to work with ya. I have so many plans I can’t wait to share. Our shuttle back to Q—that’s LS Quantum for short—boards in about fifteen minutes. We have time for a quick drink if ya’d like, or we could head to the gate. I could use a drink. Dashin’ around.” She waved her hand in the air. “I’m so thirsty now. I’m gettin’ an orange fizzy. What would ya like?”
Pleasant expression on her face, Patsy waited for a response.
“Oh, uh. Sure, I’ll have what you’re having.”
“Be right back.” She twirled and headed toward the bar.
Wow. That accent sounded Irish. And not Tallavan faux Irish. Light complexion, freckles, copper hair, wearing green…stereotype, sure, but damn, if she wasn’t Irish, he’d eat a whole pan of fried blood pudding. Something he hadn’t tasted in a long time. Fried eggs, tomatoes, white-and-black pudding. A full Irish breakfast like his mother made better than any other cook on Tallav. He missed his folks and his mother’s cooking, but Tallav would never be his home. Even if he’d been a member of the aristocracy, he would have left the Tallavan matriarchy in the dust as he had the moment he was of age.
“Here ya go.” Patsy handed him a large disposable cup and took a long drink from her own. “Ah. That was what I needed. I had cobwebs in my throat.”
Trey tipped his cup back and swallowed three gulps of the sweet orange liquid and remembered why he never drank fizzies. The carbonation bubbled up his nose. He pinched his nostrils, squinched his eyes shut, and waited for the burn to abate.
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