Urden, God of Desire

by Anastasia Rabiyah

  Melia sucked at her straw for a long time before she realized her glass was empty. Tapping out the command, she navigated the sharer to the game sites and entered enough credits for five hours of Toreiier. Her attention slipped into the game. She only hoped she could play long enough to forget about Enrue. Fire raged in her womb from his attentions. She could almost taste his mouth, smell his musky male scent. She clicked play and struggled to escape out of reality.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Goodbye

  Sima couldn’t believe Razi agreed to do it. She stared at him, dressed in the black garb of the rebels, his face covering hanging down, and a grim frown on his lips. What disturbed her most was the tip of the gun just visible over his left shoulder. “You’ll be careful,” she said. “Don’t get hurt. Let the rebels do the fighting.” She slipped her arms around him and raised her chin to stare into his eyes. His worry showed there.

  “I’m always careful. You know that. Too careful for my own good.” He nuzzled her face and pressed kisses to her cheeks. “What a man will do for love. This is crazy.”

  “Yes.” She dipped her fingers under his black collar and traced his skin, suddenly terrified she’d lose him. “Just come back to me in one piece.”

  “They said it will only take a few days.” He rested his chin on the top of her head. “I can do this.” It sounded as if he was trying to convince himself more than her.

  “You can do anything.” She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him goodbye.

  * * * *

  Enrue watched the vid of Melia murdering Jorin once more. He knew it was her. The eyes gave her away. It didn’t matter that it looked like Reicher. It didn’t matter that a man held the blade to Jorin’s throat and a man’s voice grunted after tossing the body to the floor. When the murderer glanced at the camera, a cold expression on his face, Enrue knew those cat-like gold eyes, eyes he’d lost himself in the night before, eyes he’d wanted to wake to every morning, to stare into over and over again.

  What disgusted him most about the whole incident was that he still wanted her. What has she done to me? He punched the computer off and picked up her data sharer. No one had been able to crack its codes, much to his disappointment. Now that he had it, how would she contact him? Would she even try? He swiveled in his chair and stared at the bed. “She was using me, and I was an idiot to fall for it.”

  He knew he had a com meeting with O’ka in an hour, but all the Shiemir wanted to do was sleep. He carried Melia’s sharer with him to the bed. Under the covers, he flipped it open and tried to figure out her password.

  When his secretary paged him for the meeting, he sat up and took the com. “What is it?”

  “O’ka.”

  “Patch her through.”

  The vid fluttered with static for a while, a byproduct of how far away the leader was. She bore a knowing smile. “Greetings, Shiemir. I have pleasing news.”

  “You killed the Emperor’s son?” The war annoyed him now. He wanted to be done with it. If the nylenth killed all of the high-ups in the government, maybe it would be for the best.”

  “Almost.” She reached to one side and dragged a young woman into the picture. Golden ringlets of hair cascaded down her shivering shoulders. That black blindfold over her eyes showed with damp spots from tears. He knew her, the Emperor’s daughter.

  “So, you have a hostage. Good work.” He shifted on the bed, recalling his own daughter’s body. An ache pained his heart. Empathy for the girl and her father was not an option. This way was direct. It would get results. He pushed away his emotions, angry they had surfaced at all. “How soon can you deliver her to me?”

  “Two days your time.” O’ka shoved the girl away, and filled the screen with her narrow, attractive face. “I’ve missed you, Shiemir. Do you think you have time between meetings to discuss a personal matter with me?” Her directness surprised him, but then, she was not in the same room with him and even so, her pheromones didn’t stir his lust.

  He breathed deep, Melia’s scent lingering all around him. For a moment, he closed his eyes and imagined her body nestled against his. He’d slept so soundly with her there. The motion of her breathing had aroused him. Even now, just the thought of her caused his body to stir with longing. His cock awoke, thickening.

  O’ka purred. “What are you fantasizing about?” she asked in a moaning voice.

  He opened his eyes. The image vanished. O’ka bared her fangs, looking like a vampire with her fair skin and dark hair.

  “Tell me what you’re imagining. I know the look of a man who wants.”

  “I’m tired. That’s all. It’s been a trying day. Jorin was killed.”

  Her lusty expression dissipated, replaced by the hunger for revenge and death he so often saw there. “Who did this?”

  “One of my captains,” he said, hating the lie. “It’s all on vid. He’s being held for trial.”

  O’ka’s lips curved into a sneer. “You should make an example of him. Public torture, a televised death. None will oppose you then.”

  “That’s not my way.” He reached across the distance and set his finger on the button. “We’ll meet when you arrive, after you’re settled.”

  She laughed, a lurid sound deep in her chest. “I look forward to it.”

  Disconnecting, he sighed and rolled over, gripping the sharer in his fist. He had to have Melia back, had to know if what had happened was real. “I meant nothing to her.”

  The double suns filled the window. He watched them for a time, contemplating his future alone. Before it had not bothered him, and in fact, it gave him a sense of strength. With his wife and daughter gone, there was no one else to lose. He could afford to take the risks he now forged ahead with.

  He turned back, desire blinding him once more. He sent a com to his secretary, deciding he must get Melia out of his system one way or another.

  “My Shiemir?” She held a handful of card files against her chest.

  “Nema. I need you to contact the authorities with a description of the Cossia. No traffic leaves Taraf without inspection. No man or woman may leave without an iris scan. Not even the taxi shuttles. I want her found and brought back here…alive.”

  “Your will is mine, my Shiemir.”

  Chapter Twenty Five

  In the Rain

  Rain pounded on the metal walkways, splashing up onto her pants. Melia stepped closer to the building in an attempt to shelter herself. Her eyes hurt from staring at the games for so long. One twitched every so often. She’d high-jacked the local police broadcasts and discovered the Shiemir had an all out watch on her. Shifting to the shape of the café bartender she’d last touched helped, but her eyes would give her away if anyone got close enough with a scanner.

  She hugged herself, rubbing her upper arms to ward off the cold. Four more blocks and she’d be at a different coffee shop, a new place to hang out and hide. The longest she’d gone without sleep was three days. Four would be pushing it. Two streets over the high-rise hotel she’d been in with Collin beckoned to her. He would be gone by now, the night they’d shared a sweet memory he might think back on from time to time. She wondered what happened to her art supplies. She felt like painting at the moment, stripping off her wet clothes, donning a long shirt and standing before a canvas, melting into the creative state that had eluded her for years.

  Instead, she rushed forth, sprinting as fast as her short, manly legs could carry her. Rain soaked her clothing worse. Her hair was a brown, stringy mess clinging to her face. She hadn’t cared for the way the man looked whose body she’d morphed into, but he was inconspicuous—just what she needed to lay low. Soon, the overpowering scent of roasting coffee beans drew her into the net café. This one was not as shady as the prior establishment, which meant more surveillance, less privacy and better drinks.

  She seated herself at an empty desk in the back, ordered a Dark Knight and keyed in her password, accessing an untraceable account to keep her busy for the night. As she surfed the T
arafian web, she wondered what Enrue was up to. Halfway through her drink, she gave in to the undeniable urge and commed the palace.

  His secretary, who never seemed to sleep, answered and narrowed her gray eyes. “Can I help you?”

  “This is Lieutenant Heishim. I need to speak to the Shiemir. I have news of the Cossia.” Melia wondered if the old woman would patch her through or shrug her off.

  “Heishim?” She frowned and shook her head. “You’ll have to leave a message. He’s unavailable at this time.”

  Groaning, Melia punched the key to shut out the hag’s image. She thrummed her pudgy, manly fingers against the plastic-coated desk and glared across the room. Tendrils of bhooki smoke snaked through the air. Its cinnamon scent calmed her somewhat.

  “Hmm.” She willed her body to shift back, lowering her head behind the monitor and shelf displaying news disks and magazine samplers. Skin stretched and changed. Muscles twisted and tightened. She clenched her teeth to keep from crying out. Pain needled all over her body until the metamorphosis completed itself. She felt comfortable as a woman. The first time she’d shifted into a man she’d spent hours in the bathroom exploring the intricacies of the male anatomy. Smirking, she tapped in the call number to her own data sharer, determined to see Enrue once more.

  The tone sounded, a soft beep, barely audible beneath the din of the café. The screen flashed and there he was, staring back at her with his jewel-like eyes.

  “Melia.” He traced the screen with two fingers. The Shiemir appeared exhausted. “You used me?”

  She swallowed and wished he’d just shut up so she could stare at him. Her boss would off him soon enough, or have another operative assigned to the task. This might be the last time she’d see Enrue alive.

  “I was just doing my job.” She sucked in her lower lip and waited for his volatile reaction.

  “That’s all I am to you?” Worry lines marred his forehead for a moment. “A job? A mark? One more corpse to be added to the pile of dead politicians the Empire wants kept quiet?” He sat back in his chair. She realized he was in his bedroom sitting at the desk they’d fucked on. Tingles swept through her.

  “What am I to you, Enrue? Why did you take me from the cell? Why did you sit with me that first night? What kind of game were you playing?” She gripped the edge of the desk, terrified of his answer.

  “I don’t play games.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I never do.”

  It wasn’t the answer she expected. She closed her eyes and shook her head, her wet hair cold against her cheeks. “You’re lying.”

  Silence ticked between them in as much as it could with the buzz of the overhead lights and the many other computers generating white noise. Glasses clinked together at the bar. People blubbered and rambled, their voices echoing.

  “Look at me.”

  She opened her eyes and frowned at him.

  “I don’t lie.” The Shiemir let out a long sigh before he continued. “Come back to me.”

  She laughed under her breath. “Yeah, right. Can’t happen.”

  “Melia.” He rubbed his right temple for a time, watching her. She didn’t sense that he was trying to place where she was, but rather, he seemed to be trying to gather his thoughts. “Was it that bad?”

  “What?” She looked at his open shirt and the hairs across his chest. She’d run her fingers up and down that retreat for an hour before she fled his room.

  “The sex.” He fixed her with a serious gaze.

  Melia pressed her palm over her mouth to stop herself from laughing. She blinked and held her breath.

  He went on. “I’m sorry if it was. I’ve never been with anyone except my late wife. It’s been so long.”

  “It wasn’t bad at all.” Her hand dropped to her lap. “It was pretty damn good, actually. I wish we were different people, or at least we were on the same side.”

  “We can be.” Once more, he touched the screen, and she realized what he was doing. When she’d tried to kill him in the church, he’d touched her lips in that same slow, swiping motion. “Come back to me. We’ll find a way to make it work.”

  “It?” she shook her head, incredulous. Her heart picked up speed though. This was a strange twist of events. No one had ever offered her a place to belong. The Empire owned her—always had—always would. “What are you trying to do? Lure me back there so you can shove me in a cell and pump me for information, then carry me back to your room for a roll in the sheets? This is a load of crap. I don’t trust you.”

  “Mm.” He nodded. “I guess you’re right.” Enrue’s expression changed. He became the cool, calculating Shiemir she’d studied in the file vids. “I don’t trust you either. I probably never will. I want you to know that what happened between us wasn’t business for me. Too bad you don’t feel the same way.”

  She couldn’t think of anything else to say. Melia reached for her drink. She held the glass to her lips and swallowed.

  “Hope you get some sleep,” Enrue said. “It’s only a matter of time before my guards find you. Taraf is sealed off. No sense in running.”

  She shrugged off his threat. “I know. I cracked the net.”

  “Don’t be so confident.” He tapped the screen. “I know your clever, little secret. But your eyes, Melia, they never change, do they?”

  She blew him a kiss without answering his question and ended the link.

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Port Onar

  It was strange to be in a big city again. Razi breathed in the pollution, the smell of people living too close together and the greasy scent of Hemec fuel in the garage his gang of rebels had parked in. He wasn’t good at this part, at casing the area. All he knew about were files and trades. His knowledge in the bedroom wouldn’t help them here, but his knowledge of how these places worked would. They rode in two elevators and entered the lower level office.

  The ward brothel wasn’t as nice as the one in Southern Irnia where Razi had lived. It was worse. No blue scanlight tested for disease at the door. No disinfectant scent lingered in the air. He tapped the tile floor with one boot and wondered how long it had been since they mopped. The overlapping muddy shoeprints guaranteed at least a month’s time.

  Razi and his band of men shuffled down the darkened steps of the brothel’s entry to grunge so degrading and foul, he had to close his eyes at what he saw. Here, people were bought and sold for pleasure, but this was not the same as the Hicklan wards. Rooms lined with men and women awaiting implants bore glass walls so passersby could inspect their naked bodies. Some were held by chains, others reclined on cots. Most were Unangi, evidenced by their dark skin.

  “This way,” one of Razi’s men said. “You keep them busy in the office. We’ll start evacuating these people.”

  He nodded, unsure of what he could possibly do to help. Razi entered the dingy office and smiled at the attendant, a burly man with large fists. A woman moaned in apparent pleasure in the rear of the room, hidden by a half-open door.

  “Help you?” The man glanced up. His eyes roved up and down. “What the hell are you doing here, Unangi?”

  “I need a woman, two actually…maybe three.”

  The attendant’s eyes narrowed. “You speak well for a native.” He reached beneath the desk. Razi tensed, unsure of what the man might pull out. A gun, a blade? Instead, he dropped a set of key cards on the counter and set a data sharer before him. “Take your pick. Or you can go look at the fresh ones. Virgins, experienced ones…we have whatever you desire as long as you can afford to pay.”

  “Oh, I can pay.” He slipped the first card into the sharer and pretended to watch the screen with interest. “How long have you been in business?” He glanced sideways at the attendant.

  Touching a large, outdated screen, the man smirked. “We’ve been here longer than you’ve been fucking.

  “It’s not very clean here.” He tapped through images of young Unangi women, some not even old enough to have gone through puberty. Bile rose in his
throat. This wasn’t Hicklan, that was for sure.

  “You don’t like it, go to the Corps then. Pay more and get something primped and ready. Ours are straight from the mountains. You can train ‘em yourself. Plus,” he leaned forward, his gaze catching on Razi’s forearm, “they’re not traceable. You can do whatever you want. No one gives a shit.”

  Drawing his arm to his side, he was suddenly aware of the old Tagian Tracker he’d never had removed. The woman in the back area started screaming and a man grunted in unison.

  The alert sharer in Razi’s pocket vibrated. It was time to go. “Yeah, maybe I’ll do that. This place sickens me.”

  The attendant frowned, his thick eyebrows joining in the middle to form a straight, black line. “You’re a ward, aren’t you?” His mouth turned, revealing a snarl of teeth. “Maybe you need that stuck-up chip knocked off your shoulder. Little romp in the back room with Phil.”

  Slipping the detonator under the counter, Razi glared. “Maybe that’s what you need, you ass.”

  The attendant’s upper lip curled. “Phil!”

  The woman in the back room made a disappointed cry. Something fell and the back door opened. A burly man entered the office, pulling up his pants, his hair sticking out in a mat at the back of his head. He lurched forth like a monster in a horror flick from times forgotten. “What?”

  “This Unangi thinks our place isn’t clean.”

  Phil twisted his mouth to one side. “Oh yeah? You wanna see how crappy it is?” He opened the creaking service counter gate and stepped closer. “You’re a pretty one, you are.” He reached out with one grubby hand and grasped Razi’s wrist. “Come here. I’ll show you. We ain’t so bad. Could fetch a fine price for you, we could.”

  Razi stiffened. By now, the others would have led the wards out to the lot, to safety and the waiting shuttles. He had only to get the files behind the desk, the records they needed with shipment dates. It hadn’t seemed such a difficult assignment when he agreed to it.