Cat Star 03 - Rogue

by Brooks, Cheryl - Cat Star 03

  "But they are nice, Nindala! I protested. "Especially Dragus—the guard who gave me the necklace—though I was told that he'd be asking for sexual favors after I accepted his gift."

  "And has he?"

  "Well, no," I admitted, "but things have been a little hectic around here lately. I've been working with my students nonstop, trying to get them ready for the recital, and I don't see Dragus very much—he's usually posted in another part of the palace—but he's quite good-look­ing for a reptile."

  Nindala's expression was openly skeptical. "They are egg layers," she reminded me. "There is no future in such a relationship."

  "Who said we had a relationship?" I countered. "But I do like him. He made quite a ritual out of giving me those glows tones, too. It was almost romantic."

  "These Darconians cannot begin to understand ro­mance," she scoffed. "They are crude and inelegant."

  I'd almost forgotten what a snob she could be, and the best I had to show for my stay on Darconia was an amorous guard! If she could only see the tigers! Now, they were elegant!—even without their jeweled col­lars. She would have been terribly impressed with their cocks, too. Not telling her about them was going to be even harder than I thought.

  "And they do not appear to have anything remotely resembling a penis," she went on. "How do they have intercourse?"

  Somewhat exasperated, I grumbled, "I don't know, Nindala! I haven't had sex with one of them—never even seen one who was aroused." Remembering the Zetithians and the problems they had with reptiles, I added, "Maybe they can't get it up for a mammal."

  "But one of them gave you a valuable necklace," she reminded me. "That must mean something."

  "Like I said, he probably just thought I needed more jewelry and took pity on me for appearing to be so poor and lacking in admirers."

  "But even Garon admired you," she persisted. "These lizards might do so, as well."

  Nindala had a severely overinflated view of my at­tractiveness to alien species. I wondered where she got the idea and couldn't come up with any reasons other than what she thought about Garon, unless she'd over­heard some of the other passengers talking. I still didn't believe any of it myself.

  "And here comes one of them now," she said, keep­ing her voice down.

  I turned around to see Dragus approaching. It just had to be him, didn't it?

  "Pardon me, Kyra," he said politely, "but your pres­ence is requested at The Shrine."

  It didn't take much imagination to figure out who was doing the requesting. The only mystery was how they'd persuaded him to come after me.

  "I am to escort you there," he added.

  I wondered who was guarding The Shrine with him gone, though I thought he might have gotten Hartak, who usually guarded my door, to cover for him. Hartak really liked being my guard, too—said he wouldn't give up his post for anything. I wasn't sure why, exactly—though it was an easy job, and I was always nice to him—but I was beginning to believe that he liked hearing all the noise I made when the tigers were on the prowl. Delorian, who was posted there at night, seemed less enthusiastic, but perhaps it was because we kept him awake.

  Making my excuses to Nindala, I went off with Dragus. As soon as we were out of earshot, he said, "I see you are wearing that... thing again."

  "Thing?" I said blankly. "Oh, you mean my dress?"

  Nodding, he added, "It does not become you."

  "Well, I am wearing the necklace you gave me," I pointed out, rattling the beads around my neck. "And it's very pretty. Nindala thought so, too."

  "Yes," he conceded, "but the stones look best against your skin." Since the dress I was wearing had a rela­tively low neckline, I had an idea that the "skin" he was talking about was the skin on my tits. Men! They're the same everywhere!

  "What is so wrong with wearing clothes?" I de­manded. "Do you have any idea what would happen to my skin if I stuck my nose outside the palace for an hour?"

  "It would burn?"

  "You're damn right it would burn! I'm not covered in scales the way you are. I've got some pretty sensitive hide under this dress!"

  Dragus cast a sidelong glance at me. "I know."

  At that point, I decided it might be best to change the subject. "Mind telling me who's requesting my presence in The Shrine?"

  Another sidelong glance. "I believe you know who it is," he said.

  "And just how did he manage to persuade you to de­liver the message?"

  Dragus smiled. "Tycharian has promised me a favor," he replied.

  "Yeah, right!" I said skeptically. "What sort of favor could a slave possibly do for you?" Unless it was clean­ing chamber pots—though I doubted this was one of Dragus's duties, either.

  "There is a lady I would like to get to know better."

  I prayed to God he wasn't talking about me. "Oh," I said carelessly. "And who is that?"

  "Her name is Cernada," he said. "You may have met her."

  "Yes, I have," I admitted, greatly relieved. "Are you saying that Ty is going to fix you up with her?" Fix me up?

  "Get you a date," I said with an impatient wave. "You know, put it a good word for you?"

  Dragus nodded. "If I cannot have you, then I must look elsewhere."

  "Oh, come on, now, Dragus! We're too different to ever get together, and you know it! Do you want the beads back?" I was rather fond of my glows tones, but I would have given them back in a heartbeat if I'd been the lady in question. Don't get me wrong; I liked Dragus, but dating a Darconian was not what I had in mind, aside from the fact that I was in love with someone else.

  "No, I have given them to you," he said graciously. "I will not take them back."

  "That's very sweet of you, Dragus! You're not such a slut, really—now, are you?"

  He shrugged. "I would have liked to be as fortunate as the slaves, but—"

  "Stop right there, Dragus," I warned. "I don't think I want to hear any more."

  "But I have studied Terran culture," he protested. "Your species... turns me on."

  "I wouldn't have thought that," I commented. "After all, we're quite a bit different, and the tigers aren't the slightest bit interested in Darconians." I chose not to mention the fact that I considered Dragus to be rather handsome for a Darconian, since he didn't seem to need any further encouragement.

  "Perhaps not," he conceded. "But I find your soft skin very... stimulating."

  "Stimulating, huh?" I echoed. Then something else occurred to me "And just how do you know my skin is soft?" I inquired. "I can't recall ever having been touched by you."

  Since we had arrived at The Shrine, he didn't reply, but his appreciative glance was enough to assure me that he'd at least thought about trying. The guard posted at the door opened it without comment, and I wondered if he knew why we were there. If he did, I could only assume that someone—probably Hartak—had been talking—which wouldn't be too surprising, given the nature of palace gossip.

  As usual, the abrupt change in the humidity level upon entering The Shrine hit me like a wet blanket. Thus far, I'd never done much in the way of physical activity while I was in there, and while I would have preferred the drier heat in my quarters, with Nindala visiting, my rooms were now off-limits to the slaves. Scalia was tak­ing no chances with her slave boys.

  The tigers met us just inside, and one whiff of me had their dicks stiff almost immediately. Dragus made no move to leave, but, instead, turned and leaned against the door.

  "I have missed you," Tychar purred as he took me in his arms. "It has been two entire days since I last saw you."

  "What? No visions?" I teased.

  "Now that I have had the real thing," he said with a smile, "visions are not nearly as satisfying as they once were."

  "I wouldn't take a vision over you, either," Trag said, though his compliment sounded a little forced. He backed away slightly, with the air of one who was ad­mitting defeat.

  "I don't know," I said, scrutinizing him carefully. "Seems like you must be doing just th
at."

  "How do you mean?"

  "It's just that after that first time, I figured you'd be more... demanding, but you haven't been."

  Trag looked acutely uncomfortable, and it was sev­eral moments before he spoke. "It isn't that I don't like you—because I do, Kyra, it's just that... well, you and

  Ty..." Throwing up his hands in a gesture of futility, he said: "Do you love me?"

  "A little," I admitted. "But it's not the same as what I feel for Tychar, and to be perfectly honest, I don't think you love me at all."

  Trag took a breath as if he was about to say some­thing, and then looked away.

  "You don't, do you?" I persisted.

  He was having a very hard time admitting it, but finally, he did.

  "No, I don't love you," he said. "—though I probably should—I loved the sex, and you still smell fabulous, but—"

  "You want a girl just like the girl that married dear old dad?"

  He'd never heard that old song, of course, but he did understand the sentiment. "I risked going back to Zetith to find a mate," he said. "I didn't get one."

  "And now that you've had a little nooky, you're good for another twenty years?"

  "Probably not," he admitted, "But you and Ty—I know you love him, not me. It makes a difference."

  "Planning to hold out for a Zetithian?" If he did, I had an idea he'd probably be waiting until the day he died.

  "I'd sure like to," he said, letting out a pent-up breath. "But I could go the rest of my life and not find one—even if I wasn't stuck here playing slave boy for Scalia."

  "Well, you never know what might happen," I said. "Things can change just like that," I added with a snap of my fingers.

  "I sure wish they would," Trag said wistfully.

  As Tychar began purring again, I got the idea that he hadn't sent Dragus after me to listen to me comfort his brother. "So, now that you've got me here, what did you have in mind?"

  The answer to that was fairly obvious, because it had been two days since I'd seen him, and before that, Tychar had been with me almost constantly. I ought to have been suffering from withdrawal, but it was also possible that I'd needed the rest. Still, the sight of him fully aroused and purring was having its effect on me: my clitoris was tingling as it became engorged, and I was probably pumping out just as much juice as he was.

  Tychar moved in close behind me and ran his fin­gers under the straps of my gown. "Why are you wearing a dress?"

  "We have visitors to the palace," I replied, "so I thought I should."

  "It is odd that you would feel that way," Dragus piped up, "for even they do not wear clothing."

  "But I feel, well... naked," I said, trying to explain. "You know, vulnerable?"

  "Let me tell you something, Kyra," Tychar murmured in my ear. "Seeing you naked makes me vulnerable, not you. It makes me want to mate," he purred. As his hot tongue slid across my neck, my resolve began to weaken along with my knees. "And when I wish to mate, I be­come your slave. You are free to do anything with me, and I will do whatever you ask."

  I glanced over at Dragus. "I'm not so sure I can feel 'free' with Dragus lurking in the corner," I said. "Think we could get rid of him?"

  "That was not part of our agreement," Dragus said. "I was told I could watch."

  I looked up at Tychar in frank disbelief. "You devil!" I exclaimed. "You told him that?"

  Tychar shrugged. "I was desperate."

  "Yes, but—"

  "You did not have to come, and you don't have to do anything you don't want to do," Tychar reminded me. "You aren't a slave, Kyra."

  "Oh, yeah, right!" I grumbled. "But tell me something: have you ever said no to a Darconian—one of the big ones who could knock you over with one swing of his tail?" I heard Dragus chuckling and turned to glare at him. "And don't you go getting any funny ideas, Dragus!"

  Still laughing, Dragus shook his head. "But Kyra, I can think of nothing I would like more than to watch, if I cannot have you myself."

  The thought of Dragus being anywhere other than the other side of the door when I was making love with Tychar creeped me out completely. "Forget it, big guy! It's not gonna happen!" Eyeing him with suspicion, I added, "Is this your way of getting your necklace back? Do I have to bribe you with it?"

  Dragus shook his head, but it was Tychar who spoke. "Just forget about him," he suggested, which was a bit ridiculous, since Dragus was entirely too big to miss, "and come over by the fountain. I have a bed all ready for you."

  Against my better judgment—which was rapidly evaporating—I was just about to comply when I spot­ted Refdeck. "Oh, come on! Not all the other slave boys, too!"

  "Well, they are locked in with us," Tychar said rea­sonably. "And they promised to be quiet."

  "But they aren't invisible, and they aren't blind!" I protested. "I don't think I can—"

  Tychar silenced me with a bone-melting kiss. "Just close your eyes, my love," he whispered against my lips. "And I will give you joy unlike any you have ever known."

  My eyes were already closed—I could no more have kept them open than I could have kept from responding to his soft, wet kiss. Sighing as his hands caressed my back, I felt his fingers as they combed the braid from my hair. Knowing that all was lost, I wrapped my arms around his neck and returned his kiss, forgetting every­thing else as his tongue teased my own, sending tendrils of fire curling through my body. Oh, yes, focused on him, I could forget just about anything—until I felt my dress begin to slip away.

  "Leave it on!" a shrill voice squeaked. "It's better that way!"

  Opening one eye, I could see the guy with the octo­pus fingers jumping up and down at the head of the pack of slaves who were all gathered around to watch.

  "You are supposed to keep quiet, Sladnil!" Tychar said severely. "One more word, and I'll throw you over the wall!"

  "So, he doeshave a name," I murmured. "I was won­dering what it was." Chuckling softly, I added, "Imagine that! One of you who actually likes my dresses!"

  "He likes a lot of weird things," Tychar said.

  "Such as?"

  Tychar cleared his throat uncomfortably. "You really don't want to know."

  I tried to imagine what weird things a skinny little guy with bulbous eyes, fish lips, and octopus fingers might enjoy and decided that Tychar was absolutely right. "No, I probably don't."

  I did my best, even kissing Tychar again, but having Sladnil standing there watching was creeping me out even more. "Come on, you guys," I protested. "I just can't do this with you around."

  "I'll get rid of them," Trag offered. "Seeing as how I'm not getting any, I'd just as soon not watch, either." Motioning for the others to follow, he said, "Come on, guys, let's go outside and... pound sand or something."

  The slaves all trooped morosely to the door to the portico. It was hot as hell out there at that hour, even in the shade of the dome, but I hoped they were used to it. Dragus, however, didn't move a muscle. "You, too, Dragus," I said severely. "I'm not doing another thing until you're out of here."

  Dragus laughed. "I will leave," he said, capitulating at last, "but you must admit, it was worth a try."

  "You can listen," I conceded, since I was fairly certain all of the guards did just that. "Though how you could hear anything through those doors is beyond me."

  Dragus shrugged. "There are other ways," he said ca­sually. "And you may keep the necklace," he added.

  I had no idea what he meant by "other ways," but didn't care as long as he left.

  As the door closed behind Dragus, Tychar began purring again, making me forget everything but him. He'd gone to a lot of trouble to get me there, and I wasn't about to disappoint him. After all, I'd missed him, too.

  "You handsome devil," I whispered, running my fin­gers through his hair. "You know I can't resist you."

  He smiled knowingly. "You haven't forgotten me, have you?"

  "Impossible," I vowed. "I couldn't forget you in a mil­lion years—well, I might, if
Dragus conked me on the head—but I wouldn't forget you only because Nindala was here! It's just that I've been really busy getting ready for the recital, and you guys have been locked up more than usual. That's got to be hard for you."

  Tychar smiled, and his purr deepened. "It gives me more time to think of ways to please you," he said. Picking up where he left off, my dress was on the floor in moments. The only sound was the splashing of the fountain. We were alone and naked in the Garden of Eden—and I felt like Eve with the apple.