Branded Possession (The Machinery of Desire Book 3)

by Cari Silverwood

  Tucked away in her coat, she was ignored by the men. If she stood still and sucked her arms into the sleeves, they might forget her. If wishes were fishes.

  Not a chance, informed the dissecting study Badh swept her with. He was interested in her. Dangerously so? Such interest might spawn another weakness in Ryke.

  She made another mental note.

  Ryke flattened his palm over the plate, and then he waited...waited. From within came a faint ting then grinding sounds. Metal mechanisms awakened.

  After a century of neglect if Badh was correct.

  “I assume this door gets power from the core,” Ryke murmured.

  “Yes. And you can’t hope to bypass what takes a king’s hand to open.”

  The internal noises died away, ceased. Ryke wrapped his hand over the handle and strained. The handle squeaked in protest then moved. “And yet...”

  The door swung open enough to allow him to put his head inside. He seemed to observe whatever was within then withdrew.

  “And yet you succeed.” Badh frowned. “How?”

  “I can tell you why I have the king’s authority on my hand but you will need to keep it completely secret.”

  “I’m your brother, fool.”

  At that insult, Ryke grinned. “You’re also the Overmekker of the Underdeck. I called for him, you came. Your duty means more than I do.”

  “Why’d you shut it?”

  “What’s in there is between the king and me. For the moment.”

  “And her?” Badh nodded toward Gio.

  She tugged the coat tighter.

  “Yes. Her, me, the king.”

  “A slave?”

  “It’s what is necessary. I need to live here off and on, for a while, I think. Depends on the situation above. Events may alter things.”

  “So you’re in trouble. King’s authority or not.”

  Ryke only inclined his head.

  “Very well. You opened what was sealed. I expect that explanation, though.”

  “Let’s sit at Gap One then.”

  They walked back the way they’d come, but at an angle. They headed for the railings she’d seen. Iron seats with curled backs were spotted about the periphery of this circular gap in the farm area floor. Though the men leaned over the railing, she held back a little, in awe. The depths this overlooked worried her.

  A brilliant, iridescent sea moved below, rolling far more languidly than any water. Blue mist wisped upward, reaching at least a story upward from the surface. Floating in that mist were vibrant flecks that twinkled like lost stars. They drifted in currents. Those currents were reflected in the sea sweeping at the base of a giant fiery sphere of blue. In places, the sea curled and vaulted upward only to fall back to the surface and merge, soundlessly, flattening, frothing.

  As she dared to step in and gaze to bow and stern, she saw a spiral stairway leading down, walkways that hung partway down to the sea, and several more of the huge spheres in a line, half submerged in the trough of the sea. She counted four though farther along, blurred by distance, was the outline of another.

  “What is this?” she whispered, expecting a reprimand, but Ryke seemed disconcerted and also fascinated by the view.

  “That is the Engine Sea and the waik cores that power our landship.”

  “Amen.” Badh nodded. “Even the Scavs know we adopted waik power long ago. Threw away our star tech for this. Tell me, Ryke, why have you brought a human down here? I also need you to tell me how you’re going to get that collar off her?”

  Cold prickled through Gio.

  “Because the king wants her here.”

  Badh grunted. “I need more than that. Like you said, my duty is to my people, to the Underdeckers. We are crucial to the landship, to the swathe. You want to set a slave and a human loose down here?”

  For once Ryke seemed at a loss as to how to answer, or was too preoccupied to think it through. “Loose?” He grimaced.

  “It never gets easier, coming here, does it?” Badh said, his voice gentle. “I’m jaded, I guess, though the rebel assholes don’t help.”

  Ryke only wrapped his fingers around the rail. Something in that Engine Sea captivated him. A memory, she figured. This was a weaker side of the man, definitely.

  “I still need an answer.”

  “The king wants to know how to make more portals. She is the only person left who may be able to help us find another portal mage. She was Drette’s assistant and, my brother...I am the King’s Own Lawgiver. I have dispensation to do whatever is needed to get answers from her.”

  Whatever is needed. After all the killing, she couldn’t help being afraid. He did lie. It wasn’t improbable that he’d dispose of her in the end, like a used tissue. She was no murderer, blood made her queasy, but she needed to get over that.

  If the moment came when she must stick a knife in him or die, could she?

  “Stars above. You spat that out like a machine. Portal mage? We’re calling them that now? And you’re the King’s Own Torturer and Executioner?” He positioned himself beside Ryke. “Not denying that?”

  “I’m a rumor that most know exists.”

  Badh grunted. “So you’re a phantom but you’re above the law, but someone up there is disturbing your dark little playground. Ahhh, the Gathering is coming. The kings in waiting. Political traps and deviousness, and most would give their left testicle for the secret to portals. But...” He turned to Gio. “This girl’s a human. You have a mask in your hand but without the mask and gloves on anyone will know what she is. With them on they’ll see a slave. You can’t let her out here. I also refuse to allow you to torture her.”

  Fuck. He refused... Her heart had probably stopped beating. She’d sure stopped breathing.

  “No slaves, no torture. Spoiling my fun indeed.” Ryke raised his arm and hugged his brother one-armed. “I can color her hair and nails.”

  “Mistakes may happen and people will remember and know she’s human. You and her in there?” He nodded toward the king’s residence. “They’ll know you’re special, but if they sniff that human cunt, I’ll have a riot if I don’t deal with her.”

  “Human cunt?” Ryke studied her, his lips quirking, around his eyes wrinkling – the man thought this funny. She wanted to spit on both of them. “You can’t tell except by hair and nails. And of course by sticking your cock in one.”

  “So I heard. No wonder you want to keep her.”

  “Send Doctor Baxx to me. He can remove her collar. He’s discreet. I believe he’ll be quiet if I tell him it’s on the king’s authority. He’s still alive, I hope?”

  “He is. You know you can’t let her out still?” A moment followed where the brothers seemed to exchange a silent communication then Badh sighed. “I’ll send him.”

  “Good. I’ve never heard what casualties you suffered down here. Was it severe?”

  “From the Scav attack? Yes, but not as bad as it could’ve been. The hole knocked in the hull up near the bow was above the sea. Nearly lost a waik core but we didn’t. Most deckers were working aft. Lost thirteen people to trauma, twenty to the energy that came from the DRAC missile. Mechlings plugged the hull fast. Most of the hull penetrated lost unprocessed, mined earth and nothing else. They hit the right-hand feed from the jaws.”

  “We were lucky then.”

  “A little. More by clever design though. If I was making a landship, I’d have put the feeds to left and right like we have. A few tons of chewed-up trees, ore, and dirt are a cheap substitute for armor.”

  “And no new workers have been sent down?”

  “None.” Badh shifted his feet apart, eyed his brother. “It’s why I could do with you helping.”

  “I see. Maybe I can. I’m out of practice. It’s been many years since I flew the Engine Sea.”

  “A decker never loses his touch, annnd there’s always farming.”

  “Fuck off.”

  “Not today, thanks. So...you’re just going to lock her up in the King’s resi
dence and wait for what?”

  Good question. This situation had been too impromptu for his liking.

  Ryke stared over the rail into space. Down there, beneath the Engine Sea, was where his mother lay. Entombed in waik energy, she was as unreachable as the stars were for Mekkers since they came to Aerthe. It rent his heart every time, and he couldn’t stop coming back to look.

  The day she’d returned from the desert, he’d healed somewhat. His father was gone, but one parent was enough. He’d run to her and buried his face in her lap.

  Peace, for a while. Healing.

  Until the accident, when she’d walked into the sea or fallen from her glider, or been taken by the prophecy. All depended on your point of view. His? He knew, and he was a child without his mother.

  Again.

  Hurts like that never healed.

  Coming to the Underdeck gave him solace and turmoil. He transitioned when he came – from man with duty as his foundation, to a man who also understood loss and pain.

  Though you could never escape from your responsibilities in the Underdeck.

  Here he sat, in the skin he wore in the Underdeck, but he’d brought a woman he was bound to by duty and all that made him the man he now was, to extract secrets from by whatever means necessary. He was stuck between the two states.

  King’s Own Lawgiver on the one hand.

  On the other hand, he was Ryke, Underdecker, son of the only Mekker who’d ever survived on the surface of Aerthe. Or so it was said.

  People said a lot of shit.

  He pulled his hands from the railing and stared at his opened palms. Clean palms. He’d be the only decker of the age of thirty-five without a respectable amount of blue.

  Being talked about as if she was an object was not new to Gio, not after being on Aerthe as a possession of the Mekkers for many months. It still hit her in the gut and made her eyes sting.

  She tried to find some serenity – a center. She wasn’t the strongest woman in the world and never had been, but she could puzzle out most things given enough time. Whatever was going on here, Ryke wasn’t an emotionless robot. He’d sloughed off that rigid shell coming down that ladder and walking here. Something he’d seen in the Engine Sea had bothered him.

  This man before her was a man you could stick a knife in and expect to bleed. Above, if he was stabbed she’d expected him to bleed iron filings.

  Maybe she could hinder him, ruin him, then escape and do something good for the others here.

  Something she’d thought gone was rising. She tasted hope.

  With the collar removed, with her hair and nails disguised, she could walk about in this landship and not be recognized as a slave.

  Several objects flitted by so quickly it was a while before her eyes could follow and focus. Yellow and brown with a touch of blue. She raised her head, tracking a small flying thing. Birds. She’d heard those had teeth on Aerthe.

  Birds!

  The hairs on her arms and the back of her neck tingled upright. If a bird could get in here… Other things could get out.

  What if she could be both without a collar and free outside, on the lands of this world.

  Except that would be selfish, wouldn’t it?

  Gio blinked. A lot of people, humans, were relying on her. She was their last resort, though none of them knew it. Most of those who knew of her despised her. She was the traitor. The one who’d brought them here, sort of. Condemned them to slavery, sort of. Ignorance was not an excuse in a court of law on Earth, or here, where there were no good laws.

  She wanted to do what was right.

  A memory slammed in.

  When the Scavs knocked a hole in this landship, the birds might have entered. Might. Might not. Damn. It was something she desperately needed to find out.

  Chapter 12

  Ryke crooked a finger then ushered her before him. Something told him the conversation with Badh had disturbed the equilibrium he’d established.

  Why?

  Because he’d mentioned taking off her collar, or blatant hints it would happen? That slaves didn’t exist in the Underdeck? Yes, those. He needed to reset the tone.

  The king’s door opened, more easily this second time, after lubrication had spread in the lock mech and he’d woken the lock’s brain. That lubrication word gave him dirty ideas.

  Lights fluttered on, transforming the black hallway into something more welcoming. In the depths of the residence, machinery began to hum.

  “Be still.” He stripped the coat from Gio, dropped it and the mask in the hallway. Everything here looked delicate, ancient and dormant, but he picked up a white covering from a side table. He wiped the sweat from her flushed face, from around her lips, lingering. A woman’s lips were so precisely made and hers were especially so.

  “You would inspire an artist.”

  She dared to frown at him, though it was a frown that vanished quickly.

  He really should upend her and punish her for that, except he liked her frown. Liked her mouth too, and often thought about those lips with his cock between them.

  Threads had torn in the cloth. Holes appeared when he wriggled his fingers. Hundreds of years of neglect meant some of the fabrics in the residence would disintegrate. He let the cloth flutter to the floor. Casually stripping her, he left a trail – the mask, the coat, the cloth, and the long, black gloves as he wandered deeper into the rooms. Some of the overhead lighting panels malfunctioned and were dim or dark.

  They progressed through a strange environment of disjointed light, their steps stirring to life a faint scent of dust and old decayed fabric. Old memories too, perhaps. Could you smell those? A king had been here.

  With her under his hand and his fingers stirring the soft hairs of her nape, he directed her down the hallway then into an atrium. Here were pretty walls. They were etched but modest compared to the general residence he discovered through the door leading from the atrium.

  History had not recorded that the last king here liked mostly naked slaves in various forms of bondage decorating his living spaces.

  Next, the grand entry into a dining area... He aimed her past that and into a recreational area with reclining seats and more erotic artwork, rendered in ivory and blue with accents of red.

  “Kneel. Stay,” he commanded.

  Silently, she kneeled, and if her lip trembled and she feared him, wasn’t she supposed to?

  Under her knees was a heavy, navy-colored rug with a quiet pattern of white vines twining over it.

  “I think...” He turned in place. “I like it here.”

  This was not a place for meetings to plan war, peace, or anything vital. This residence had been for parties and sex. Or just sex.

  Paintings and frescos on walls. Eroticism and battles made grand. Blades and fetishes mingled with guns and rockets. The Scavs used edged weapons, not Mekkers, or not currently. Smoke and deadly light from energy weapons played over fields, blending with the sexual montages. Holes tore through bound and tortured figures composed of half mist, half flesh.

  The king last here had played hard.

  Gio stayed where he put her while he wandered some more, down a short hall leading to a wide bedroom with a bed large enough for orgies.

  He’d put his hands on her in private for the first time since coming to the Underdeck, and it’d been a heady experience, knowing that down here there was a difference. He wasn’t so beholden to his masters.

  The king was still the king, but he was distant. Yes, the Underdeck was locked irrevocably to its duty to the Mekker people, as it should be, but it was a realm to itself because others rarely dared to come here. The danger was both fearsome and freeing.

  He strolled to her, his not very penitent client. Was he losing perspective? Mindfuckable client versus fuckable pet. He kept clients at an emotional distance but pet said more. How much more he wasn’t sure. It was a meal he’d not savored before. If he approached this slowly, he could always withdraw and return to walling her out. He coul
d go back to being her distant inquisitor.

  Pet or client or both?

  There were layers to this that no other relationship could have and that made him feel as if he was on fire...the good kind of fire. Ryke circled Gio. His boots made little noise on the rug and he listened to her breathe. Her eyes followed his boots; at times, she flicked her gaze to his face. Daring for a slave, considering his powers.

  He paused behind her. This could also be stage four of breaking a client – make them want to help you. The psychology of attachment could achieve miracles. He only had to make her think she adored him. Difficult but not impossible.

  This had to appear natural.

  And the first slow step was? He smiled. Time to find out what a human cunt feels like.

  He tapped the underside of her foot with the toe of his boot. Her toes curled. Such dirty feet.

  “Are you thinking about the Underdeck?”

  He imagined he could count the beating of her heart as she thought through what to say.

  “Of course,” she said quietly.

  “That things have changed? People up there are after you and after me too. Some of them will want me dead.” He went to his knee then ran his forefinger up the middle of her back, from waist to where the suit ended below her collar. “I know you. You’ll have figured that out.” He tugged a curl of hair. “Being here doesn’t mean I’m powerless. It gives me more choices.”

  Ryke reached around to her front with both hands. That they ached to touch her wasn’t normal but all he’d had was whores for a long, long time. By feel, he found the toggle of the zip.

  He stopped to smell her, nose nudging her flesh. “You smell of sweat and sex. I hope the water still flows. I need to wash you before I make you filthy again.”

  Her next breath caught. She held it for a while as he unzipped the kol-hide suit. When the teeth of the zip caught on her and she hissed, he chastised her. He had her pull her arms from the suit then peeled it from her upper torso. His hands welcomed the warm give of the curves of her breasts. He gauged their weight and squeezed.

  As he stroked his thumbs over her nipples, they puckered and rose.