Urden, God of Desire

by Anastasia Rabiyah

  He tapped in the keycode, entered his dim office and slumped in his padded vinyl chair, not bothering to switch on the lights. His computer sprang to life. Reaching forward, he punched in a search for the name Dargon. Primarily, the surname was believed to have been originated after a gaming craze popularized it. Dargon was an adopted name, and not one originally passed on.

  “Interesting,” he whispered, intrigued. “You’re not real, are you?” He ran a search on Kyleena’s files, the ones he had pirate access to through one of his many contacts. He searched through all Cossia rank listings, knowing it was futile. The gold-eyed messenger is not a messenger at all. Enrue tapped in a search for captains, undercover spies and a few other suspected ranks, all to no result.

  His secretary beeped through on the com, interrupting him. “My Shiemer. Cossia Dargon wishes to speak to you.”

  He sighed over the irony of her timing. “Send it through.”

  The screen flashed and he found himself staring at her narrow face. She’d braided her black hair, and the thickness of it hung across her shoulder. Leaning forward, she seemed to assess him. “Enrue, you’re looking tired. Staying up too late?”

  “What is your rank?” he pressed, ignoring her taunt and once more, the familiarity she used by calling him by his first name.

  Her thin, black eyebrows rose, widening those feline eyes. “Cossia. Have you forgotten? I still need to meet with you to discuss—”

  “There is no listing of a Cossia Melina Dargon. Dargon isn’t even a true surname. Did you make it up?”

  Her mouth twitched. Those eyes narrowed. He knew he’d hit a nerve. “Dargon was not my birth name. I chose it. I fancied the game when I was a teen.”

  “Your rank,” he repeated. “If you expect me to meet with you, I must know who you really are.”

  “I have a message for you from the Kyleena Empire. That is all you need know.” She tapped at her data sharer, a smirk tightening her pert lips.

  Enrue frowned, realizing he liked the shape of her face and more so that very expression. Melia seemed to be a woman who knew what she wanted. She acted sure of herself. “When can you be here?” he asked, ready to play her game now. He knew he could win this one, though he ought not to let her near him.

  “Oh?” she stopped tapping at her sharer. “You’ll see me now?” She laughed, a tiny chortle in the back of her throat that lighted her odd eyes. “What has changed between us, Enrue?”

  She’d done it again, called him by his first name. He leaned back in his chair, a little puzzled. “If you are not a Cossia, then you must be of some value. Perhaps, I merely want someone to ransom in order to get Kyleena’s attention.” He fingered the edge of his sash and watched her mouth twist in a strange grin. Does she look this good in person? His wandering thoughts irritated him. He clenched his teeth and tried to get his mind under control.

  “You think you can hold me long enough to ransom me?” She moved closer, her face filling the screen. He stared into her eyes, put off by her amusement. She sucked in her lower lip and released it slowly, regarding him with a familiar coldness.

  Enrue’s skin prickled, a sensation he hadn’t felt for what seemed like ages. Heat flared in his loins. He froze, startled by his growing arousal. Sucking in a deep breath, he glared at her. “When can I expect you to arrive?”

  “Mm,” she said, taunting him by lowering her lashes and simply studying him. She didn’t answer. Melia sat back. She glanced away as if something nearby distracted her. Her inattention irritated him. It was…arrogant.

  “What’s the matter, Cossia?” he taunted back. “Are my officers knocking at your door?”

  She laughed once more and twisted her braid through her fingers when she returned her attention to him. “Your officers.” Hissing, she flipped the braid over her shoulder. “I walked right past them in the Alga Dockport. What a bunch of fools. Do they even know how to search properly? Did you even give them a description of me?” Her pupils became slits.

  He ran a hand through his hair. Indeed, they’d found no trace of her on the ships that landed in Alga. He couldn’t fathom it. They’d tracked the ships when they entered the atmosphere. “How did you just walk past them?” he asked, finally.

  Melia tapped her chin three times with her forefinger. “That’s for me to know and you never to find out.” She smiled wide this final time, reached forward and waved the same finger in front of the screen. “As to when I will arrive in your presence, the answer is…” She blew him a kiss. “When you least expect it.” The com disconnected, a white circle of light bursting in the midst of his viewscreen and gradually fading.

  “Bitch,” he whispered with little emotion. His body had flared to life at the sight of her. It wasn’t pheromones like O’ka put off, but something different. Melia aroused him and he didn’t like that fact. His cock had stirred to life, thick and erect in his loose habere pants. Ignoring its urgency, he grasped the treaties and hastily scrawled out his signature across the plastic readers. She’d put him in a foul mood, and that, combined with his lack of sleep, caused him to rush through his work.

  Typing out the first document, he realized he was omitting words, sentences and whole ideas. “Damn it,” he muttered. He settled back in his chair, pushed the button on his desk to alert everyone he didn’t wish to be disturbed and reached into his pants to rid himself of what distracted him.

  His cock pulsed in his hand, warm and ready. He pulled at it slowly, closed his eyes, and frowned at the half-breed’s image. He imagined her lips against his mouth, her breasts crushing into his bare chest and her hand holding his erection instead of his. Reaching down, he cupped his balls and felt like a shameful youth as he pleasured himself. He forced his foreskin over the head of his cock time and again until precum dribbled out to slick his way.

  Melia’s face would contort with pleasure when he took her, when he showed her who was in charge of this dangerous sport she played at. He stroked faster, excited by the thought of dominating her, of making her whimper and cry out for him. A tingle awakened in his balls, the warning that there was no turning back. Enrue grasped his sash belt and covered his exposed cock. He came in a rush of sudden release. His jaw tensed and he refused to moan or scream, but he wanted to. Afterbursts pulsed from his body. He bent forward and caught his breath, still focused on her face.

  Untying his sash, he wiped himself clean, pushed his flaccid cock into his pants and tossed the belt into the incinerator chute. He had many others. It would not be missed. Euphoria swelled around him. He felt self-conscious of it and glanced around to be sure he was alone. Satisfied, Enrue stood and went to the wet bar to wash his hands.

  He stared at the few bottles of liquor there, deciding he felt better than he had in a long time. “A man has urges,” he muttered. “It’s nothing.” Fulfilling another dormant desire, he uncapped the bottle of Red Fury. With a full glass, he ambled back to his desk, sat, and took a sip. The fluid burned going down, warming his body, soothing him a little more after his orgasm.

  “I hope you don’t wait too long…to visit.” He tapped at his screen and replayed Melia’s message, pausing it just at the moment when she smirked. Copying the image to another file, he saved it, wondering if it would be too sinister to print it and keep it in his room.

  Sense returned to him when he took a second sip of his drink. He pressed the delete key. “That’s the difference between me and the officers of the Empire. I have fantasies, but I don’t act on them.” He pressed the glass to his lips and drank down the remainder of his libation.

  There were documents to attend to and the meeting. He wanted his work complete before then. Enrue pressed the button to let his secretary know she could com him if needed and set back to his tasks.

  Chapter Seven

  Leuj

  Sima seated herself in the rental office, her inner thighs pleasantly sore from the prior night. She thought of Razi and grinned. Sleeping in had sounded like heaven, but this was Alga. She was no longer t
he daughter of a Shiemir, a woman to be pampered and kept, but Folar’s secretary. They didn’t have many shens, and she had to work, just like her husband. Not that she minded. Filing and keeping the books appealed to her need for order.

  Folar shuffled by the door, waved at her and flashed a jovial grin. He was a round man, plump and thick all over. He had a black goatee, and his hair curled in long ringlets past his shoulders. “Good morning, Sima.” He patted his belly. “I’m heading to the bakery if you want anything.”

  “Frosted rolls again?” She slid the final plastic doc in place. When he nodded, she clucked her tongue at him. “You’re going to turn into a frosted roll if you don’t watch out.”

  He winked. “That’s the idea. Who can resist a frosted roll?” He took a step into the office to inspect her desk. “You look a bit thin. Would you like a roll or not?”

  “Of course I would.”

  “I knew it.” He patted her shoulder and lumbered out, humming under his breath.

  Someone else lingered in the hall, perusing the rack of tourist notices. Sima leaned sideways and caught a glimpse of Habiri black robes. She stood and called out, “Can I help you?”

  The robed patron turned and tugged the covering from his face—a face Sima knew well—stark and mischievous, with blond locks straying over his forehead. “You should have changed your name,” he said. He walked with a cane now, an aftereffect of their being in the wrong place at the wrong time when her father bombed his palace.

  Chills swept through her. Old fear lingered and a hatred she doubted she’d ever overcome. “Oemir Leuj. I must say, you’re looking well. Much better than the last time I saw you.”

  His lips tightened as he approached. The cane clunked. “You look more beautiful than I remember.” He extended a hand, and it hung between them for a time.

  “Thank you,” she muttered. It was a strange meeting. He’d kidnapped her, tried to seduce her, and in the end they’d all nearly died after he managed to fake her death. It was an attempt to keep her father from looking for her—and it had worked. Finally, she clasped his fingers, releasing them sooner than what would be considered polite. “So, can I help you?”

  He cleared his throat and shook his head. “I just wanted to see you again, to really thank you for not leaving me behind to die. You didn’t have to. Especially after everything I did to ruin your life.” His green eyes glittered with something she’d never seen there. Tears. “So, thank you. Thank you for giving me a second chance. I—I didn’t deserve it.”

  This was not the overconfident ass of a man she knew before. He’d somehow been humbled, and Sima knew it was all Sister Lensi’s doing. She backed against the wall, unsure of what to say. Then the one question that plagued her since she discovered she was dead sprang forth. “Who was the woman you killed in my place?”

  He cleared his throat, some semblance of pain causing his eyes to crinkle and his cheek to tense. “Jahid. A servant, a ward from Hicklan. I, um, put in an order for someone who resembled you.”

  She thrummed her fingers against the wall, lowering her gaze. It disgusted her to think what the poor woman must have gone through only to meet her end at gunpoint. “I am indebted to her memory then. If not for her unwilling sacrifice, I wouldn’t have this freedom.” Uncomfortable, she cleared her throat and inched closer to the office entry. “If you’ll excuse me. I have work to do.”

  “Sima, wait.” His fingers curled around her upper arm, halting her retreat.

  A flash of heat spread through her as old memories of his naked body against hers betrayed her good sense. She held her breath.

  “Are you happy?” he hobbled closer, his gaze intent. She hated to look into his eyes. He should not be here. Sister Lensi had warned all the refugees to stay hidden. In fact, they should not be together at all, given the circumstances.

  “Y—yes. I am. Alga is a beautiful place to live. I’m married now.” She shrugged off his hold.

  “To the Unangi.” He nodded. “He seems to be a good man. Lensi said he works hard.”

  The bells on the door jingled. Footsteps padded in the outer room. Leuj pursed his lips and repositioned the scarf to hide his face. “You should change your name,” he whispered, warning her again. “With all your father is into now, if someone were to discover you, you’d be a fine bargaining piece.”

  She stood straighter. “That’s all I ever was, wasn’t it?”

  He reached out and touched her hand with three fingers, leaning closer to her ear. “Not to me. I wanted you for selfish reasons and would have done anything to have you. Your father though…” He cleared his throat. “He would have traded you for a treaty. I’m only saying you should be more careful. If Enrue is still the same man and you are discovered, he’ll trade you away for less now.”

  “I know how little he valued me.” A shadow spilled across the hall. Whoever had entered the office lolled along, no doubt reading the posted advertisements.

  Leuj bowed his head. “It doesn’t matter what he thinks. Value yourself and your safety. I’d better get back to Lensi now.” He stepped forth, embracing her unexpectedly. His hold was gentle, but firm. He smelled the same as she remembered, alluring and spicy. She stood stiff as a statue, confused by his attentions.

  Leuj, the former Oemir of Irnia, turned and went on his way, his gait a thump-step rhythm. Sima stared at him until he exited. She backed into her office, sat down and covered her face with her hands for a moment. She hadn’t expected to see him again. He ought to have stayed behind. It was dangerous for him to be in Alga.

  “Excuse me, miss?”

  She glanced up at a young woman wearing Habiri robes. Her face was uncovered, her dark hair braided and hanging across her shoulder. She had watchful, gold eyes hinting at unusual lineage. “Yes, can I help you?”

  “When is the next shuttle arriving?” The woman leaned against the side of Sima’s desk and regarded her.

  “Let me check.” Sima turned away, still stifled by Leuj’s visit. She rifled through the plastic files and found the shuttle schedule. “There’s one in an hour. It stops by the ramada.” She tapped the verbiage to confirm her information and turned back to face the woman. “Why aren’t you hiding as Sister Lensi asked?”

  The dark-haired woman smirked. “I have my orders.” She bent forward, invading Sima’s space. “My, but you do have the most beautiful hazel eyes.”

  The compliment felt wrong. She cleared her throat and balked, her chair rolling back a ways. “Um, thanks. Yours are nice too, like a cat’s.” It was a morning of odd encounters, indeed.

  “Yeah.Got my mom’s eyes.” She held out a hand in friendship. “I’m Melia. And you are?”

  Sima stood and shook the woman’s hand, finding her grip painfully firm. She cleared her throat and shivered for an instant. “My name is Si—I mean, Mrs. Ukten.”

  Melia released her hand and glanced around the office with a calculating gaze. “Wish I could live in a place like this. She stepped away and paused beside a painting on the north wall. “I went for a walk this morning and damned if this isn’t a slice of pastoral heaven. You don’t find spots like these anymore in the Empire. All metal and lights. It gets old.”

  “Yeah,” Sima frowned. This woman could not possibly be from the Unangi Mountains. “So, um, how long have you been with Sister Lensi?”

  “Not long.” She turned her head to one side, her eyes narrowing. “I used to paint when I was a girl. My father encouraged it, but my parents divorced and I ended up with my mom. She didn’t like my hobby much. I miss it. Haven’t tried in a long time.”

  The woman’s cool voice was off-putting, but she immediately understood Melia’s words. “I know what you mean. My father never let me garden after my mother passed. He said it was beneath me to get my hands dirty.” She edged closer to the Habiri refugee. “You know, I have a huge garden now. I grow squash and peas, whatever I want.”

  Melia tapped the plastic sheeting over the framed image, her lips turning down. “
Do you?”

  “Mm hm.” Sima rested a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “There’s a little shop on the corner down the street. Go outside and take a left. It’s not the best, nothing fancy, just natural pigments and hand carved brushes with horse hair tips, but it’s a fine shop for local artists. The man who runs it painted this.”

  The woman didn’t respond, her gaze far off in the greens and browns of the meadow landscape.

  Sima went on. “Life’s too short not to do what you really want to do.”

  That got her attention. Melia closed her eyes and sucked in a rattling breath. “You’re very kind.” She slipped her hand in her robes and tugged out a sharer, glanced at the time and nodded. “Thank you so much. You have a nice day.” She stared at Sima for a moment, smiled wide, and turned to go.

  Chapter Eight

  Collin

  Melia leaned her forehead against the shuttle window. She was all alone, unless one chose to count crates of organic produce as passengers. The driver appeared lost in his own little world of punker-hash music, his fingers drumming out a speedy beat against the dash every so often. She watched as the last green trees of Alga sped by, lost, perhaps gone forever. She doubted she’d be sent here again. Her mind drifted to the woman in the rental office and her eyes. Those eyes reminded her of Enrue. “I’m obsessing,” she muttered. “Seeing him everywhere. What a sick assassin I am. I think I enjoy my work too much.”

  She had a small, wrapped bundle in her lap. The contents were an act of utter defiance against her mother and her forced inclusion in the Kyleena military academy as a teen. She’d not wanted to go, but Mom had assured her that she belonged there. Melia ran her fingers over the brown paper, wondering if she could even paint anymore. It had been so long, such a deeply buried memory. Grinning, she recalled her days of sneaking into the vid-gamer underground. Defiance was easier then, long before she’d been recruited to be a paid mercenary. Now defiance meant a swift trial and a swifter death.