Warrior Prince

by Nancy J. Cohen

  Resisting the urge to grasp what protruded below, she knelt to lather his legs. She didn’t neglect his feet, well formed with straight, strong toes and a firm arch. Stroking his sinewy calf with the cloth in one hand, she used her other hand to tickle him along the inside of his leg in an upward sweep.

  He sagged back against the shower wall, his face a study in agonized pleasure. His male organ hovered so near her mouth, she could almost taste him. Her fingertips brushed his sex, and it jerked upright. Hard and soft at the same time, his flesh pleaded for her attention. She flicked a thumb across the cleft, pleased when his belly clenched in response.

  Sweat broke on his brow. “Chariots of the gods, you drive me mad, woman.” He swatted her hands away. “That’s enough.”

  After a quick stance under the spray to remove the suds, he drew her close.

  The washcloth dropped from her hand as he captured her mouth. Her lips parted, and his tongue slid inside to claim her heat. No teasing kiss this time. His mouth moved hungrily, insisting on her surrender.

  The universe receded except for the trickle of water and the crush of their mouths. If all the Drift Lords made love in this manner, they were masters of much more than the space-time continuum.

  Then he broke off and spun her around to face the wall.

  “I wish to take you like the wild animal you make me.”

  He thrust into her from the rear, holding her by the waist as he plunged deeper. Her consciousness ebbed as she joined his rhythm, aiming toward a release so sublime, reality faded. Light and serenity swirled around her as she convulsed, endless spasms sending her to a distant plane. Finally, she floated to the ground ever so gently.

  “That was incredible.” Her breathing slowed to normal, and she turned toward him. “It’s more than just great sex. Don’t you feel something different when we’re together?” Searching his eyes, she was dismayed to see his ardor dim, replaced by a cool aloofness.

  “Indeed.” He gave her a quick peck on the mouth before shutting off the faucet. “But let us not dwell on it now. We have work to do.” He stepped out and grabbed a towel, tossing one to her. “We have a plan to formulate, people to contact. Get dressed.”

  Toweling herself off, she stared at his naked butt as he retreated toward the bedroom. What was up with him? He’d disregarded their lovemaking as though it had been another chore on his list.

  Her lips compressed. Didn’t he see anything in their future together? Then again, did she? Her place was here, with Kristy, Diane, and Grace. Zohar had an empire to run once his Drift Lords completed their mission. A universe divided them. They both knew this and had silently acknowledged that sex was all they could share. Would it be enough?

  A hollow feeling inside gave her the answer.

  ****

  “Zohar, we have to talk.” Nira strode into the bedroom, a towel wrapped around her womanly curves.

  “Talking is the last thing on my mind.” Zohar glanced at her exposed cleavage. He burned with the desire to strip that piece of fabric away, to take her again, and to lose himself in her yielding body.

  Going down that road would lead to insanity. Soon he’d be like his father, craving her heat, breathing in her essence, fulfilling her every whim. His cock reacted, ready for another round. What did she want to talk about? It was never good when a woman said those words.

  Clamping his jaw, he whirled toward the dresser to get his clothes and froze. A red scribble marred the mirror.

  “Omigod, what’s that?” Nira’s voice rose in pitch.

  “It was not here when we entered the shower.” With an alarmed glance at the doorway, he grabbed his T-6 from where he’d tossed it on the bed. “Get some clothes on.”

  They dressed in haste, speaking in hushed voices.

  “I recognize the symbol. It’s a runic death knot.”

  “Meaning?” He fastened the zipper on his denims, remembering he’d forgotten to set their defense perimeter. His obsession with this woman already undermined his caution.

  “See the way those three triangular shapes overlap?” She adjusted her cropped pants and short-sleeved cotton top. “It’s called the Valnott. Odin’s followers wore this emblem, and they had a tendency to die violently.”

  “Jor’ked nok tong.” His native language slipped from his tongue.

  “Talk in English, please.”

  “I said, how fortunate for us.”

  An intruder might still be present. Was this how the orange juice became tainted? But which enemy from his home world possessed knowledge of the ancient runes? And how did the villain enter their house?

  Zohar didn’t sniff cors particles, so no one had vectored in. It had to be someone skilled in the art of stealth.

  Watching a lizard scurry from behind the drapery, run along the baseboard, and disappear toward the hallway, he formulated a plan to catch the miscreant. The person might be just as elusive as that reptile, but Zohar would expose him.

  Shortly thereafter, he and Nira pretended to take a nap under the sheets, with the drapes drawn and the lights dimmed. He’d considered stuffing the bed with towels and lurking in the shadows, but whoever had watch on them seemed attuned to their movements. It was a chance they’d have to take, hoping the assassin wouldn’t shoot them where they lay.

  He had to catch the fellow. His team, ever diminishing in numbers, must focus on the Trollek problem and not on political pressures from home. This had to end now.

  The window curtain fluttered although the air-conditioning hadn’t cycled on. He gripped his laser gun beneath the covers.

  Nira lay half-smothered under him for protection. It was all he could do to regulate his breathing when he wanted nothing more than to mingle with her. Her breasts pressed against his chest, torturing him with the urge to cup her softness.

  A scratching noise sounded from out in the hall.

  Going rigid, he held his breath, before remembering he was supposed to be sleeping. He breathed in and out, cracking his eyes open a slit. A shadowy figure crept toward him.

  Zohar thrust the sheet aside and raised his weapon, only to see two shadows collide.

  No, not shadows. Two men battling each other.

  One bearded with an age-lined face. One strong-armed man wearing a forest green cloak and brandishing a sword.

  “Askr. Lord Magnor. What is the meaning of this?” Zohar’s aim wavered between the two of them.

  Nira popped up, her eyes wide. “Magnor, you’re not dead.”

  “No, my lady.” The Tsuran swordsman flashed a fierce grin. “I have been watching over our rageesh to protect him from vermin like this.” His sword point caught the old man at the throat.

  “Hold it, I’m on your side.” Askr held up a hand. “I can explain.”

  Magnor maintained his stance. “I’ve been using my invisibility shield. How did you gain entry?”

  Zohar slid off the bed, still gripping his phase gun. “You have been following me?”

  He didn’t know the Tsuran could make themselves invisible. How? Did Magnor’s cape hold the technology, or was it an innate ability of their race? He knew so little about them, only rumors meant to frighten children.

  Magnor dipped his head at Zohar. “Aye, I have been on your trail ever since the ambush in the alley. I lost you last night, until you reappeared by your shuttle. I expected another attempt on your life, but I did not anticipate so feeble an opponent.”

  Zohar snorted. “Rayne is dead and Dal has been poisoned. Treachery comes in all shapes and forms.”

  “You are correct, son of Thor, but you’ve got it wrong.” Askr’s voice firmed. “Rayne is the one who plotted against you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Zohar gaped at the old man. “You slur my friend’s honor. I have no reason to trust you, especially when you invade our safe house.” He turned toward Lord Magnor. “And you, we thought were dead. Explain.”

  The dark-haired swordsman bowed. “I set a meeting with Borius to review your itinerary
. En route, I received a message offering information on dissidents from Karrell.”

  “Who sent this message?”

  Zohar glanced at Nira who’d risen to stand against a wall, arms folded in front of her. Her narrowed eyes darted from Askr to Magnor as though she didn’t know which one to trust.

  “The text appeared on my comm unit with no way to trace its origin. I gave Borius the new rendezvous point. When I arrived, I was set upon by a gang of local riffs.”

  “Borius found you unconscious in the alley. He said you’d been injured.”

  Magnor’s eyes glimmered. “That is true. I activated my shield so I could heal on my own.”

  “What is this shield?”

  The warrior’s lips curved. “Some secrets must remain with the Tsuran, my liege.”

  “You knew I’d be ambushed, and yet you left?”

  “I figured between you and Borius, you could handle them. Besides, I wasn’t far if you needed assistance.”

  Zohar’s brow creased. “Were you here when Dal drank the tainted fruit juice?” If Magnor had been invisible, he could have poisoned the beverage. Or, perhaps he’d seen the guilty party.

  Lord Magnor studied a speck of fuzz on the carpet. “I’d prefer to discuss that later, in private.”

  Who did Magnor want to guard his observations from: Askr or Nira? Zohar would press him for answers at another time.

  Uncomfortable continuing their conversation in the bedroom, he gestured for his companions to head into the dining room and be seated at the table.

  “Old man, tell us your story.” Zohar couldn’t wait to hear his tale, although he hoped the fellow would speak more clearly than in their previous encounter by the campfire.

  Askr’s robe spread on the floor as he sat with a dignified air. “I am Askr, last of the Gatekeepers. We are guardians of Earth whose task is to protect humans during Trollek incursions. It is a duty passed down through the generations.”

  Askr stroked his white beard. “We and our allies also may act as guides to the Drift Lords. I have been aware of your destiny for some time. I’ve been keeping watch on you.”

  “You, too?” Zohar’s gaze flickered to Magnor sitting across from him. Even with his legs crossed in a lazy pose, the Tsuran exuded power.

  Askr’s brows furrowed like wispy clouds. “I have the ability to change my form. You may have seen me as a lizard. Disguised thus, I entered your hotel suite shortly after your first successful engagement against the Trolleks.”

  Nira hunched forward. “You mean, after Zohar and his team rescued me from the theme park employment office?”

  “That is correct.”

  “Are you the person who called the front desk to see if Zohar had checked in yet?” She tapped a finger on the table.

  “I did.” Askr nodded.

  “Were you in the suite when Rayne came by?” Zohar snapped. Something didn’t jive here. How had Askr learned where they’d be staying?

  “Hear me out. I observed Rayne tampering with your equipment, captain. Upon realizing he meant you harm, I removed the threat.”

  Zohar shoved his chair back so quickly that it toppled over. “You killed him?” Standing, he tensed.

  “I merely carried out the sentence for treason.”

  Zohar curled and uncurled his fists, resisting the urge to smash the old man in the face. How dare he take justice into his own hands?

  “That explains why there were no signs of a break-in.” Lord Magnor’s eyes gleamed. “We figured Rayne let in someone he knew, but you were already inside.”

  “He was shot by a T-6 laser pistol.” Zohar, gripping his own weapon, held it up. “These are restricted military class armaments.”

  Askr lifted aside his robe, showing a similar weapon strapped to his thigh. “Gatekeepers and Drift Lords have been working together since the beginning. Your predecessors gave us an earlier model. We have updated it with minor variations.”

  “But you say you’re the last of your kind?” Nira’s brown eyes reflected mingled confusion and dismay.

  “It is so.” Askr’s shoulders slumped. “Things were peaceful until the Trolleks forced open the dimensional door. They sent pfrells to attack before we could rally. The beasts massacred my brothers. I, alone, escaped their assault.”

  Zohar righted his chair and sat down with a heavy heart. The Trolleks had targeted the Gatekeepers for extermination just like the Great Purge, when the Empress had condemned the Drift Lords to death. But were the Trolleks capable of such cunning?

  Certainly, they’d advanced rapidly since his last skirmish with them. Was that due to their own lust for power, or was someone else urging them on, not to mention supplying their armories?

  He eyed the old man. Did he speak the truth? Askr claimed the Gatekeepers kept people from harm and aided the Drift Lords during previous rifts, yet Zohar had never heard of them before.

  Dread prickled his spine. Who could he trust?

  Lord Magnor was reluctant to reveal what he’d seen in the kitchen. And why had he stayed hidden for so long, letting them believe he was dead? He wasn’t much of a bodyguard if he allowed Zohar to risk his life repeatedly without getting involved. Did he have his own agenda?

  “Zohar and I got attacked by pfrells.” Nira studied Askr, suspicion written all over her face.

  “Where was this?” Askr demanded, his expression impassive.

  “On the island where we met you. They dove at us on the beach. We escaped inland, where we stumbled across some temple ruins. I found a pillar with runic writing similar to the inscription on my watch.”

  “What did it say?”

  Did Zohar imagine Askr’s quick indrawn breath of air?

  “I don’t know. We didn’t get the chance to copy it down. But I did drink from the Fountain of Wisdom as you advised. This symbol on my watch reads, One of Six. Does this mean I have five sisters? Real sisters by blood, or women with powers like mine?”

  Askr straightened his robe, avoiding her probing gaze. “The others you speak of will need your guidance.” He pointed to her wristwatch. “That can help you find them.”

  “What do you mean? And you didn’t answer my question—”

  “There’s something else you should know.” Askr pushed to his feet with the slowness of age. “The Trolleks are not your only enemy. They are merely pawns in a scheme hatched by a greater evil. Be warned. You must…”

  A loud crash sounded from the master suite. Glass shattered. Askr glanced at the doorway, and his jaw dropped.

  A sharp-beaked creature hurtled inside the dining room.

  “Pfrells!” Nira leapt to her feet.

  More winged beasts flew in, diving at them. One swooped at Askr, whose hand caught in the flaps of his robe when he went for his weapon. A talon slashed his throat, leaving a broad gash. Blood arched as he slumped over.

  Zohar, gun in hand, fired but missed.

  Nira shrieked again as a pfrell swiped at her. Zohar switched his aim, at the same time dodging a swinging tail aimed to knock him down. He twisted sideways and fired again. At his side, Lord Magnor fought a savage beast off with his blade.

  One creature’s loud cawing brought the pfrells to a pause. With a flutter of wings, they crowded the smashed window in the bedroom and flew away.

  “What was that all about?” Zohar wiped sweat from his brow. His shoulder throbbed, but he was luckier than Askr.

  “The Gatekeeper has been injured.” Lord Magnor dropped to his knee, feeling for a pulse. “I am sorry. He is dead.”

  “Maybe that was their intent.” Zohar battled his need to comfort Nira. Her pale face and wide eyes indicated shock. “They killed him, and then they left.”

  “You mean the pfrells meant to finish the job they’d started in eliminating the Gatekeepers?” Magnor’s mouth thinned in a grim line.

  “Askr was just about to tell us something important, too.” Nira spoke in a hushed tone, her sad gaze falling on the old man.

  How did his enemy—
and at this point, Zohar wasn’t even sure who they were—know the old man would show up here? Askr claimed he’d crawled inside the house as a lizard. Could more than one shapeshifter be at work, or had someone else leaked the news? Someone, say, like Lord Magnor?

  The doorbell rang, then a heavy pounding ensued on the front door.

  “Police. We know you’re inside. Open up.”

  Nira gasped. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “We must leave.” Zohar prodded her. “Take what you need.”

  He sped through the house, snatching the bag of cookies from the kitchen, the laptop computer from the study, and his equipment from the master suite. Nira stuffed their essential clothing and toiletries into a couple of pillowcases. Lord Magnor vanished. Did he use his so-called invisibility shield, or could he shift forms like Askr? Primer Pedar had vouched for him, Zohar reminded himself. Gorgie would only send someone who’d earned his trust.

  “I am here.”

  The Tsuran’s deep voice startled him, and he jumped. “I wish you would not do that.”

  “How do you intend to escape?”

  He looked in the direction of Magnor’s voice. “Nira acquired a pair of magic shoes that act like a transport device. Hold onto her and pray this works.”

  “Wait, what about Askr?” Nira slung their pillowcases over one shoulder and her handbag over the other. “We can’t leave his body here. I know this sounds cold, but the cops already have enough dirt on us.”

  The pounding on the front door intensified. In another minute, the police would kick it in.

  “You are correct.” Zohar set his phase gun to vaporize.

  Nira followed him into the next room. He did the deed then grabbed her hand. “Magnor, take hold of Nira.”

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “To my shuttle.” He named a popular tourist attraction. “I parked it among the props in the backstage studio lot. I thought it prudent to hide the shuttle in plain sight rather than cloak it on a residential street where someone might run into it. I hired a taxicab to get to our rendezvous.”

  “Clever. Hold on tight, here we go.”

  A familiar whirling sensation accosted him. When his vision cleared, they stood in front of the shuttle, parked between a vintage aircraft and a flying saucer replica. Noise assaulted him: race car engines revving from a nearby show, people chattering, music blaring on loudspeakers. A sweet confectionary scent pervaded the air from a snack stand in the environs.