by Lynn Best
“Let go,” he whispered in her ear. “There’s no one here who knows you. No one here who will ever know you. You can do anything. Give into any temptation. Fulfill any fantasy.”
His lips brushed the skin on her neck, and she sucked in a breath, shuddering with pleasure. One of his hands cupped her ass while the other gripped her chin, pulling her in for a kiss.
It was explosive, sending shivers all the way to her toes. But she was supposed to be here to ask Rahan to release her, not to make out. She pulled away. “Rahan, there’s something I want to ask you.”
“Can’t it wait?” he asked, trailing a finger down her neck to her collarbone. He tugged at her top. “Why do you have so much clothing on?”
Charis stepped back. “Rahan, this is important.”
He ignored her, snapping his fingers as a waiter, dressed like Marty McFly from Back to the Future, passed with a tray of drinks. They were pulsing green shots in pink plastic glasses. Rahan took two, handing her one.
“Drinks!” he said, downing his. When she didn’t drink hers, he frowned. “Drinks!” He tipped it into her mouth.
Charis swallowed reflexively, though she had not intended to drink. The liquid burned and fizzed its way down. “What did you just give me?” she sputtered.
Rahan wasn’t listening. A song from an eighties metal band she couldn’t name came on, and he started dancing wildly. A beautiful brunette in a blue poufy prom dress wrapped herself around him, and they started writhing.
What the hell was she doing here? And where was Brandy?
Movement from above caught her eye. A figured rolled down one of the silk fabrics hanging above them. Charis traced the movement of the female shape as she tied herself like a pretzel into the turquoise silk before slipping down it seductively. She wore only a black lace bra and panties, her bare milky skin glowing in the alternating lights. Her supple calf tightened as her foot looped into the silk, her body inching up like a caterpillar before flipping upside down. Long legs flashed. Silks twirled. Charis watched, mesmerized.
It was only after the acrobat hung upside down, blond hair swaying, that Charis realized it was Brandy.
The routine continued, and Charis was awed. She was also becoming aware that she was feeling drunker by the minute. Whatever Rahan had given her was strong.
She didn’t like that he’d forced it on her. But the reasons for her anger were becoming fuzzier and fuzzier. She got caught up in the music, in the flashing of Brandy’s legs as she inched up and then spun down again, flipping her body around like it was the easiest thing in the world. If Brandy decided against being an ambassador to alien nations, she could get a job at any Cirque du Soleil.
Light and color. Sound and vibration. Charis swayed to the music.
An arm wrapped itself around her waist, and pulled her tight to a firm male body. Rahan.
“Do you like the show?” His eye makeup was a bit smudged, but it only added to the glamorousness he exuded. Charis felt her body align with his, wrapped in the intoxicating effects. Rahan was a drug. She was addicted.
“I want to go home,” she shouted as he rocked her back and forth, one hand on her ass, the other on the flesh where her shirt dipped.
“Home?” He tossed his long hair to the side. “Whatever for?”
But when she tried to answer, she couldn’t remember why. She was lost in the moment. Rahan’s hand slipped between the fabrics of her skirt, fingers sliding down the skin there. Tingles broke out across her body. He tugged at the material covering her breasts, causing a button to pop and burst free. Now the bra Brandy had supplied her was on full display.
“That’s better,” he said, continuing to yank it. Another button tore free. Her shirt hung open from the waist of her skirt up. Her breasts were heaving, her heartbeat picking up.
“Rahan,” she started. He stopped her with a kiss. His tongue was forceful, insistent. She was simultaneously turned on and worried about where this was going.
Brandy slunk toward them in her acrobat attire. With shimmering eye makeup, she was gorgeous. Rahan reached out with the hand that wasn’t pinning Charis to his body, and drew Brandy in.
“Isn’t she magnificent, Charis? Just stunning.” He pulled Brandy in, kissing her neck. She closed her eyes, tilting her head back. “Stick around, little doe, and Brandy’ll teach you all her tricks.”
Stick around? Just how long did Rahan think Charis planned to be on the ship?
“No, I…” But they weren’t listening. As Charis watched, Rahan shoved a hand into Brandy’s bra and fondled her nipple. Brandy moaned, rubbing her hand over the bulge in Rahan’s tight pants.
Charis felt her core warming, her body longing to be touched.
They didn’t leave her out for long. Biting her lip, Brandy turned and reached for Charis. The blonde’s gentle hand ran from Charis’s shoulder to her arm and then back up, tracing over the curve of her breast.
Rahan watched, his half-lidded smile sexy. Pulling Charis to him again, he began to caress her other breast.
Both sensations were amazing, but Charis wasn’t sure she should be in the middle of this little sexcapade. Then she remembered Rahan’s words. No one here knows you. There are no consequences.
She tilted her head back and let go, gasping when Brandy slid the top of her bra down and worked on one nipple while Rahan stroked the other. The yearning in Charis’s hot center was building. She gripped Rahan arm, pulling him closer, but he resisted. He bent instead to take her nipple between his teeth, stirring the fire even hotter.
Groaning, she tried to press against him, but he eluded her, drawing out her want.
She tried to grab him again. This time, he snatched her wrist and squeezed it hard. Charis’s eyes flew open at the pain.
“Stop grabbing,” he commanded. “Do what I tell you to do.”
Charis was shocked. He’d never spoked to her like this before. Her wrist throbbed in his grasp. “You’re hurting me.” Where was Brandy? She couldn’t see her anywhere.
He dropped her wrist, laughing, and then swatted her on the ass.
Like she was his to do with what he wanted.
Fear washed away all passion. She turned to run, but a hand caught her arm. Rahan. He pulled her close, dancing seductively.
Charis tried to yank away, but Rahan had her pinned. He was clearly intoxicated, his eyes mere slits, but his grip was strong.
“Let go of me,” she said, pulling back. “I want to leave.”
“The party just started.” He leaned down, and then smashed his lips against hers.
Any attraction she had for him flipped over into fear. She was crushed beneath his body, disgusted by his mouth that drooled on her as he tried to grope her. Pushing up, she tried to dislodge him, but it did no good. He was twice her weight.
“Stop!” she called, but his hands kept grabbing her.
As she tried to stop his advances, she realized a commotion was going on behind them. Footsteps thundered in their direction, and then a huge figure loomed over them.
Han.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Rahan’s lips retracted, his head tilting up. “Han,” he said, smiling drunkenly.
Charis watched as Han hefted Rahan and hurled him across the room.
Partygoers screamed as Rahan’s body tore through the fabric dividers before smashing into a wall. The music stopped. Everyone stared. Rahan lay prone, not moving. Was he dead? He couldn’t be.
“Are you okay?” Han asked, his chest heaving. He was bleeding from his forearms and hands.
She nodded shakily.
After wiping the blood onto his white pants, he reached down and helped her to her feet. His touch once again shot sparklers down her limbs, but she was too shaken up to take much pleasure in it. He immediately let go once she was standing. “Can I take you home?” he asked.
“Home?”
“I mean to my apartment.” His looked as if he were begging, pleading with her to come away from this madness.
> She nodded.
Relief spread on his face, and he led her through the throng of half-naked revelers. They watched with wide eyes as Charis strode out of the party. She picked out Brandy’s face in the crowd. The blonde mouthed, I’m sorry.
Charis gave her a nod to let her know she didn’t blame her for this. No. She only blamed Rahan. She’d been a fool to trust him.
Footsteps pounded behind them. Han roared and whirled, blocking Charis as Rahan ran up. He was winded and disheveled. And he looked pissed.
“You’ll pay for this,” Rahan spat, pushing back his mussed hair. “You know what I can do.”
Han growled. “I’ll kill you right here if you take a step closer.”
Rahan tossed his head, challenging Han to try. “Father gave me this ship for a reason.”
Han’s face was hard as stone. “Father is dead.”
Rahan said nothing, making no move as Han escorted Charis out of the room.
When they got to the hall, the walk was tense and quiet. Charis felt dizzy from the drink and from the assault. Was she in shock? She wasn’t sure. All she wanted to do was curl up somewhere safe and try to reason through what had happened. She’d gone to Rahan for help, but had nearly been raped.
When they reached Han’s quarters, she saw what had cut up his hands. The wall of his apartment was smashed into pieces. Jagged chunks of white material lay on the floor from the hole he’d clearly punched through it. He’d broken out of the room to find her? How had he known? Or was it part of the connection they supposedly had? Rahan had said Han couldn’t feel her emotions when she was with him, but then, Rahan probably lied. Had Han known all this time what she was up to?
“How did you know I needed help?” she asked, stopping and swaying lightly on her feet. The effects of the drink seemed to be wearing off slowly, but she was still unsteady and didn’t want Han to notice.
He paused, turning. “Rahan’s parties are debaucheries. Please try to stay away from them in the future.” His voice was emotionless. He wouldn’t look at her.
She swiveled until she was standing in front of him. He averted his eyes, but she moved until he focused on her again. “Tell me the truth. Do you feel my feelings? All the time?”
His eyes darted away, but he didn’t deny it.
Charis ran her hands through her hair, trying to take it all in. Did he know every time his brothers turned her on? When she thought all those terrible thoughts about him? The possibilities were endless and frightening.
“How much?” she asked, holding her head.
“How much what?”
“How much can you feel? See? Know?” Her voice was rising. She was losing it.
“I can’t read your thoughts. Not really.” He studied his feet.
“Not really?” Her voice was shrill. “Like how much?”
“Glimpses.”
She moaned. “God.”
“But I do feel your emotions. All the time. I can’t turn it off.”
“Everything?”
He nodded.
“Oh, Christ.” She walked over the broken wall pieces, into the room, and slumped on the first bench she saw. He felt everything. Every time she’d been aroused. Every time she’d hated him. No wonder he was so angry with her. And he could see into her head sometimes? Hear her thoughts?
This was all too much. She put her head in her hands, trying not to hyperventilate.
He knelt before her. “I felt how much you despised me. How much you longed for my brothers. I felt how badly you wanted to go home, so I tried to send you there, but Bram stood in my way. I need to mate or…” He shook his head. “Bram was looking out for me. But it isn’t fair to you. You don’t care for me. So I tried to make it easy for you.”
She stared into his face. “You acted mean so I wouldn’t like you?”
He made a low, rumbling sound in his throat. “I’m not a nice guy in general. Most human females don’t like me. I wasn’t surprised when you didn’t either.”
“But you never gave me a chance,” she said, taking him in. His eyes were soft. His chin was strong, his brows always knitted, but mostly in reflection. He was a deep thinker. And she appreciated that about him. Now that she considered it, she liked a lot of things about him.
“I thought you hated me,” she said, staring into his eyes.
He shook his head. “No. I find you… interesting.”
“Interesting.” She gave a dry laugh. “That’s something, I guess.”
“But you like Rahan and Kahn. I understand, but I don’t agree. Rahan is bad news.”
“I see that now.” She wiped at her face. It was as if this was a completely different person. Yes, he was still gruff, but his soft edges were showing through. She reached out, about to take his damaged hands and wrists, but saw that the cuts were gone.
“Oh my God. Your wrists.” She grabbed him, turning his arm this way and that.
The spark shot through her the moment their skin touched, electric heat manifesting as pure pleasure. It was like bubbles trickled up her veins instead of blood. A feeling of floating on warm air. Like everything good and right in the world was wrapped around her body. It flowed up her arm, across her chest, and then down, deepening and intensifying the longer their flesh touched.
Charis moaned, soaking it in, wanting it to continue forever. Was this what heroin did to you? Why people became addicted, and would sell their children for just one more taste?
Slowly, he pulled her hand away, breaking the connection.
Breathless and wide eyed, she said, “What was that?”
He shook his head. “It’s not for you.”
“What do you mean?” That feeling, that pleasure, wasn’t for her? “Who is it for, then?”
He took a step back, seemingly worried she might touch him again. “You are drunk. You should sleep.”
She bristled, realizing she couldn’t hide anything from him. There was no sense in arguing. She was drunk. She was also exhausted, scared, and feeling completely stupid. To tell the truth, she was afraid. Scared Rahan would come in here and take her. And Han knew every bit of that.
He nodded to his dark room. “In there. I’ll keep watch. Rahan won’t be able to touch you.”
She nodded, somewhat relieved she didn’t have to explain any of it to him. Together, they walked down the dim hallway to his bedroom.
She’d never seen this part of his quarters before. There was no bed, just mounds of soft blankets in a pile beside a very large window that looked out at the stars and the Earth below. There were stacks of books everywhere in messy piles, some open on the floor, pages splayed. It was warm and cozy. Charis eyed the pile of blankets, suddenly exhausted.
“There,” he said, pointing at the nest.
She stopped before it, looking at him. “Are you sure? Where will you sleep? Oh, that’s right, you don’t really need sleep.”
“Not much.” He stood in the doorway, blocking it with his massive size.
She lay on the pile of fabric. It was surprisingly soft. He watched her, his expression unreadable. “Are you just going to watch me?”
“Yes.” He crossed his arms over his chest, bracing his back against the doorframe.
“Wow, okay.” She was suddenly too tired to protest. She’d thought him watching her would make her uncomfortable, but it seemed to have the opposite effect, putting her at ease. She was safe. And then she was asleep.
She dreamt of poetry.
***
She awoke to the sound of running water.
Stretching, Charis enjoyed the heavy and well-rested feeling of her body. She’d thought sleeping on a floor would make her stiff, but whatever these blankets were made from cushioned her better than any mattress she’d ever slept on.
Sitting up, she surveyed her surroundings. Without the presences of a sunrise, she had no idea what time it was or how long she’d slept, but it felt like a full night’s rest. One glance to the doorway showed Han was gone. But the running water sound ma
de her think he was in the other room. She got up to check.
Making her way down the hallway, she realized the dining hall she’d seen before had been converted into the pool area that had been there the first day she’d arrived. A fresh towel and fluffy robe were folded beside the steps leading down to the illuminated water.
Had he drawn a bath for her?
Stranger and stranger still.
“Han?” She searched the area. Not finding him, she headed beyond the pool to a new area she hadn’t seen before.
As she walked, she realized what a long tunnel this was. Low ceilinged, it made her feel like she was inside a cave. The only light came from the floor, and it was a dim pulse that made her almost sea sick as she went farther inside.
Soon, she could hear voices. A male and a female. It was Han was speaking with a woman. When she got close enough to hear the conversation, she stopped.
“What progress have you made?” It was a tense voice, authoritarian. The tone a principal used on a child who was failing all his classes.
Charis inched forward, holding her breath. She could almost see them.
“Like I’ve told you, the human female does not prefer me. What point is there in continuing to pursue this?”
There was the sound of flesh striking flesh. “You have not been paying attention,” the female voice hissed. “If one of the others manages to woo and mate with her, you will not be king, and what happens if you are not king?”
“You will lose your place here,” he repeated in rote verse. “One of the others will have your position of power.”
“And they will kill me!” she shrieked. Something crashed to the floor. “And you. Don’t think Rahan or Kahn won’t kill you, too? Do you want your mother dead?”
This was Han’s mother? Oh, Lord. Charis shifted to peer into the dark room without being seen. Han and his mother were standing on some sort of circular platform. Strands of light trailed like thin ribbons from the ceiling, illuminating parts of their bodies while leaving others in shadow. The chamber was large, stone, and mostly empty. It reminded Charis of a medieval castle, dark and drippy, echoing with their voices.
