Whatever that meant. “I might not look the type, but I have a job to do.”
The woman raised her brows, charged Katarina’s credit slip, closed the window and roared off down the street in a choking cloud of sand.
Katarina waved away the dust and turned to the door. Rust-streaked and peeling from dry rot, the door was almost as unprepossessing as the rest of the building. In the center of the door a perfectly good, modern, clean thumbprint pad awaited the right person’s touch.
She found no door chime, no way to indicate she’d arrived. The thumbprint pad would be keyed to the owner, not her.
Annoyed, she pressed it anyway then stepped back in surprise when the door rolled open.
A dim corridor coated with a thin film of sand stretched away from her. Katarina stepped inside then jumped when the door slammed shut behind her.
“Hello?” she called to the empty corridor. “Someone here called a medic?”
No answer. Sand gritted under her boots as she walked along, but no one greeted her or came to meet her.
When Katarina reached a door at the end of the hall, it obediently opened for her. Unlike the front door, this one slid back smoothly and quietly. Katarina stepped through and stopped.
It was as though she’d stepped from harsh, dry Bor Narga onto another planet without the bother of a long and tedious space flight.
A mosaic tile walkway twisted before her, leading through lush greenery. The light overhead was soft, the ceiling twilight blue, baffling the eye as to how high it was. A cool, natural-feeling breeze ruffled Katarina’s hair and tranquilizing calm stole over her.
She moved curiously along the walkway, marveling at the astonishing beauty of whatever this place was, wondering who she’d find here.
The path was mazelike, bending around greenery and latticework walls laced with exotic flowers. Fountains trickled where the path bent around corners, and the flowers’ scents filled the air. The indoor garden was a masterwork, at once lovely, peaceful, and disorienting. A lot of money had been spent transforming this warehouse into a paradise.
The mosaic walk ended at another door, this one open. Katarina stepped into a room about forty feet square, painted black, with the same dark, cool-air ceiling. Muted lights kept everything dim, and candles placed in a few tall stands created wavering shadows.
A reflective copper sheet covered one wall from floor to ceiling, and water quietly shimmered down it. A platform about ten feet square and three feet high rose in the middle of the room, the platform covered with black, white, and red cushions. A single rose lay in the middle of it.
Katarina wandered to the platform and touched a rose petal in wonder. It was a real Earth rose, heady smelling and blood red.
“Katarina.”
The voice rolled through empty air, low and male, smooth and deep.
Her breath stopped. It was the voice she’d heard in her head when the Shareem Calder had come to the clinic five days ago. She was sure of it.
Every night since, she’d dreamed of his voice. Her dreams had been more erotic than anything she believed could arise in her head. She’d wake with her hand under her nightgown, fingers between her legs, listening to his voice say, Yes, that’s it, Katarina.
As a doctor, Katarina knew how sex worked. The aroused vulva swelled and opened to receive the penis, then squeezed to encourage the penis to release its life-giving seed. Technically.
She’d never experienced this stabbing need between her legs, the swelling of her clit and opening. Alone in bed, she’d rubbed herself until she groaned and released all over her hand. Every night for the last five nights.
He was here. Had he sent for her? The message had said that someone needed medical attention. Not Calder from the strength of his voice. Had he tricked her into coming?
Katarina swung around, seeking the door to the walkway and the path out. But where the entrance to the green garden had been, a black wall now stood, solid, closing her in.
“Open this,” Katarina said, her voice shaking.
“Not yet.” Calder’s voice flowed over her, warmth easing down her spine.
Katarina wanted to beat on the wall, demand he let her out. He had no right to keep her here, she a highborn lady of Bor Narga, he a mere Shareem. How dare he?
But he couldn’t touch her. He might talk to her and mock her, but her research on Shareem told her they couldn’t touch her without permission. It had been built into their genetic programming—the slap on her behind at the clinic notwithstanding.
Calder wasn’t touching her—he was talking, and apparently watching. He wasn’t even in the room with her, as far as she could see.
A door in the wall next to Katarina hissed open, and she jumped. But the door revealed only a small closet, containing a short dress of bright red supple leather and black boots with the highest heels she’d ever seen.
“Remove your clothing,” Calder said. “And put on what you find in there.”
Katarina’s heart beat faster. “What? Why?”
“Put them on.” The voice brooked no argument.
Katarina finally thought she understood what was going on. Her fellow medics were testing her. Katarina had been put in charge of inoculating Shareem, and her colleagues had tricked her here, wanted to see if she’d be afraid of Calder.
Wouldn’t they love that? The highborn doctor who’d so eagerly asked to work in the slums running home at the first challenge? They’d ridicule her, say she didn’t have the guts. And they’d be right.
Calder’s voice rumbled through the room. “Take off your clothes for me, Katarina.”
“Why?” she said to the air. “You wouldn’t take yours off for me.”
A laugh floated to her, deep and dark. “Too many eyes at your clinic. Here, we are alone. No one else will come.”
Katarina suppressed her sudden shiver. Dear gods, she wanted to do what he said. She wanted to slide her tunic and leggings from her body and let him see her. She wanted to face him and open her arms, ask him if he thought her pretty.
What on earth was she thinking?
Then she remembered the scars on his arms, his harsh voice sharpening when he told her he wouldn’t disrobe for her.
Because he was ashamed.
Compassion made Katarina do what lust couldn’t. She undid the clasp that held her tunic and lowered the thick material to her waist. Her breasts tumbled out, unfettered.
She’d woken from another dream of him last night—he lowering her head to her breasts, licking, suckling. Her nipples had been tight when she’d jumped awake, and she’d pinched the tips to ease the ache. They were again as hard as little pebbles.
“You are lovely,” Calder said.
Katarina drew her thumbs across her areolas, marveling at the tingling sensation. She knew he liked her doing this, even though he said nothing from behind the walls.
“Now the rest,” he said. “Let me see you.”
Katarina toed off her sand boots and, before she could think about it, let her pants slither to her ankles.
She assumed she’d be more embarrassed once she’d shed her clothes, but the cool air touching her skin made her feel curiously free. She liked the sensation of standing naked in this black room, while her unseen watcher observed her. She moved her legs apart, enjoying the feel of the tile on her bare feet.
“Katarina.”
She loved how he said her name, all long vowels separated by smooth consonants. “Yes?”
“You are even more beautiful than I expected.”
“Expected? What did you expect?”
“I saw your picture on your consent form, with your face unveiled.” His voice dipped lower. “I grew hard just looking at you.”
Katarina’s breath poured back into her lungs, her skin suddenly cold. “Consent form?”
“It told me all about you. You are Katarina d’Arnal. You are twenty-seven years old, unmarried and rich. You have taken a job in Pas City to seek . . . What have you come to seek?”
“Peace. I think.”
“Fulfillment.”
She hesitated. “Maybe. Maybe that’s what I want, I don’t know.”
“With me, you will find out what you want. I will show you every step of the way, what you want.”
Katarina’s heart pounded. “How can you possibly know when I don’t?”
It seemed easy to talk to him when she couldn’t see him, a voiceless entity whose rich tones wove magical strings around her mind.
“I know. I will give it to you.”
How did she respond to that? She rubbed her arms, uneasy.
“You can run if you want,” he said. “I will find you and catch you, but you can always try to get away.”
“Run?” Katarina looked at the dark walls that shut her in. “Run where? You’ve made the door disappear.”
“Away from me.”
“I’m not running anywhere. Especially not without my clothes.”
Calder laughed again, the sound low and soft. “Put on the garments you found in the wardrobe. I had them made for you.”
Katarina turned back to the closet and took out the red leather dress. It was soft and supple. And tiny. The kind of dress she’d never dream of wearing, even in private.
“This is all a mistake, you know,” she said. “I shouldn’t be here.”
“You still want to leave?”
No, she didn’t. His voice, his admiration of her, had awakened something in Katarina that she’d not realized existed. She’d been alone for so long, and though she filled the time with her work, being useful to others, and her friends, she realized she’d not felt a single moment’s worth of joy and freedom in too many years.
If she stayed . . . Calder couldn’t hurt her. He was Shareem. They were made for pleasure. Katarina for once, since her parents had died, plunging her into grief and guilt, would selfishly let herself feel pleasure.
Besides, she was curious about Calder. She remembered him sitting, large and silent, in her exam room, angry, uncomfortable, as uneasy as he was trying to make Katarina feel now.
She wanted to meet him, to see him without his covering, to examine him, to help him . . .
Katarina quickly slipped the dress on over her head. She wondered how to fasten it, but as soon as it settled on her torso a mechanism kicked in that tightened it to every curve of her body.
There she stood, covered from her nipples to just below her buttocks in tight red leather. Far from being confining, the small dress felt surprisingly comfortable.
She sat down on the platform with the boots, well aware that Calder watched. She knew he could see between her legs where the dress parted, could see her nipples press against the tight leather.
Katarina drew the boots onto her feet and up her thighs then she stood, trying to get her balance in the impossibly high heels. They felt awkward, even though they fit exactly.
How had he found all her measurements? But through her nervousness, she also felt a trickle of amusement. She’d never have dreamed of putting on this sort of outfit.
“I have got to see what I look like in this,” she said.
Calder didn’t answer. Silence reigned as Katarina tottered to the copper wall. The copper was polished to a mirror sheen, reflecting her even with the water running down it. Katarina peered at herself and laughed.
She certainly did look different. The leather dress bared most of her body, and the boots reached halfway up her thighs. Her honey-brown hair was mussed from removing her veils, and the brown eyes that looked back at her held both anxiety and curiosity.
The boot heels made her legs long and shapely, and the dress complimented her body, building up her chest while slimming her waist. She’d always considered herself a shade too plump, but this dress made her look curvy and sexy. Bold. Katarina smiled at herself in wonder.
The dim lights abruptly went out, leaving nothing but the flickering of the few candles, two of which were set in front of the fountain. The tiny flames reflected on the copper sheet and stream of water like wavering fireflies.
“Don’t turn from the fountain.”
His voice came out of the darkness, in the room now, not over a speaker. A cold chill went through Katarina as she tried to find him in the mirror, but the darkness hid him.
“Where are you? I want to see you.”
“Put your hands on the copper and leave them there.” The voice was not as smooth as it had been over the speaker—he must have programs that took off the rough edge. Katarina thought she liked it better without the smoothness, as it had been when he’d growled at her in the clinic.
Katarina leaned forward, balancing carefully on the stilt heels, and touched her palms to the copper wall. The thin sheet of water slid gently around her fingers.
A prickling between her shoulder blades told her Calder was behind her, but she didn’t know where. Did she hear soft footfalls a foot away, or were they across the room?
Then he was there, his body curving over hers. “Don’t turn around,” he said. His chest touched Katarina’s back as he leaned over her and rested one fist on the copper, and a large bulge of cock pressed against her buttocks.
She could see herself in the mirror, but he was only a shadow in the shadows, dressed all in black, most of his face hidden behind a mask.
His breath burned her bare neck, then came the feeling of velvet on her skin—a glove. Then lips, just as soft but smooth and firm, on her neck.
Hot sensations shot through Katarina’s body, along with a need she’d never experienced.
“Let me see you,” she said.
Teeth nipped her ear. “Do not speak until I allow it.”
“Yes, but— Ow!”
The nip turned to a sharp bite. “Not until I allow it.”
Katarina dragged in a breath and forced her lips together. Calder’s hand moved on her thigh, the feeling of velvet again. His fingers slid under the hem of the dress, tantalizingly brushing the crease between her legs, then he moved his hand to her breast.
Katarina saw his hand in the mirror, black and large, cupping her in the red leather. Her cleavage made a satisfactory picture, and Calder nipped her neck, seeming to like what he saw.
The hand slid then to her abdomen, kneading her stomach, his touch warm and soothing.
“You will kneel when I tell you to,” he said. He glided his hand, velvet warm, up to her throat, over her chin and face. Katarina closed her eyes, drinking in the sensation.
She shouldn’t let him touch her at all, she a highborn woman, he a lowly Shareem. But his touch, though intimate, was warm and invigorating, spilling feelings through her she thought were long dead.
“Did you drug me?” she asked.
“What you feel you are doing to yourself. I am only a catalyst.”
“Your Shareem pheromones,” she said, understanding. “I read about them.”
His breath scalded her ear. “I will offer again to let you run, if you want to. But I will catch you in the end. I always do.”
Katarina’s heart beat faster as she imagined fleeing through the dark with him behind her, hearing him close the distance, knowing she couldn’t outrun him. When he caught her . . .
His large hands could close around her, his weight would bear her to the ground as he jerked open her clothes . . .
She swallowed. “I couldn’t possibly run anywhere in these heels.”
“Then I am your captor. You were brought here to please me.”
His touch calmed her shaking, and she felt warm and loose. “I thought I’d come to treat someone. They tricked me.”
His mouth found her neck again, biting harder. “Kneel for me now, Katarina.”
She tried but her knees locked as she lost her balance on the heels. She clutched at the wet copper, trying not to fall.
Calder’s hands moved to her upper arms, grip impossibly strong, steadying her. He eased her down until she was on her knees on the floor, his huge body over hers.
“I will have to punish
you, Katarina, for not obeying right away.”
A shiver pulsed through her. “I couldn’t figure out how to.”
“And again, for answering when I did not allow it.”
Katarina drew a breath, ready to argue, then stopped. Perhaps she’d better find out what these “punishments” were before she earned more.
“You learn quickly.” Calder knelt, the leather stretching over his thighs as he put his knees on either side of her. “I might go easy with you.”
His big hands stroked her again, running over her abdomen and breasts. Katarina closed her eyes, drawing a breath.
When his gloved hand pressed between her legs, she gasped. The velvet felt odd, but good.
“Choose,” Calder said. He moved his fingers slowly, first teasing the lips of her opening, then brushing her clit. “Which punishment would you like first?”
Katarina’s breath caught. “What are my choices?”
“You can have the lash.” Calder’s voice caressed the word. Katarina envisioned herself naked on hands and knees while the shadow of him stood over her. She could already feel the sting of leather on her backside.
“Or?”
“My bare hand, spanking your ass until it’s red. Or you can play with a toy I have devised. You bring yourself off with it while I watch, but you cannot stop until I’m satisfied.”
Katarina wondered very much what this toy was and what it did. “I think I’d prefer the spanking,” she said in a rush.
“Make sure.” His fingers moved on her. “I will be harder on you as we go along. If you have the lash now, it won’t be so bad as it will later.”
There wouldn’t be a later. She’d find a way to tell him that she’d been duped, that she’d never filled in his consent form, whatever that was. That she was sorry, but it was all a mistake.
And then this beautiful dream would be over.
“I want the spanking,” she said.
He bit her ear, gently this time. “Good.”
His fingers moved again, her clit hot and aching. Katarina felt herself winding toward climax, wanting it, reaching for it . . .
Tales of the Shareem, Volume 2 Page 2
