Wicked Empress:The Onic Empire, Book 4

by Anitra Lynn McLeod

  Stepping between her and Drahka, Viltori bowed slightly to her, then clasped his hands behind his back. Despite her treatment, he continued to show her nothing but respect. He was not a weak man, or submissive in any way. He was simply trying to show her without words he would be a man who would stand by her, no matter what happened. Bithia was on the verge of clasping his and Drahka’s hands and leaving this dull party behind when a cry rose up from the back of the room.

  Turning her attention to the noise, she saw an overdressed peckard in blue-green fuming and pointing in her direction.

  Viltori leaned near to her ear and said, “Forgive me, my lady, but I may have created trouble for you.”

  She considered the first man as another, dressed in almost the same color, stumbled out of the basin room clasping a hand to his chest.

  Out of the side of her mouth, she asked, “What did you do?”

  “They wanted me to suck their cocks. I said no.”

  “Said no?” she asked.

  “Said no forcefully,” he amended.

  Bithia smiled. Unlike the rest of the elite, she would never force someone, servant or citizen, to her bed. However, that didn’t stop many of them from taking liberties with any slave they happened across, no matter who owned them. Her magistrate, Ambo Votny, was the worst offender. Lately it seemed to be a game for them to abuse the highest-ranking servants they could find. And what higher slave was there than one who belonged to the empress?

  Rising to her feet, she drew attention to herself without saying a word. She knew it wasn’t just the glittering crimson dress but also her commanding height. Conversations fell away as everyone hung silent, awaiting her words.

  “You.” She pointed at the man who’d been blathering and gesturing her direction. Knowing he was pointing at Viltori didn’t matter; none should dare to even think of pointing in her direction with fury on their faces.

  Eyes wide, he stumbled forward until he stood before the high table. “My lady.” He bowed low, his thinning brown hair allowing the light to bounce off his pale skull.

  “You touched my servant?”

  His gaze darted to Viltori as a snarl darted across his face. Quickly, he looked to the floor. “I did not, my lady.”

  Bithia turned to Viltori. “Did he touch you?”

  “He touched my sash.”

  Nodding, she again considered the man before her. “You asked him to do something for you. What was that?”

  Squirming, clearly embarrassed, the man mumbled something into his chest.

  “Speak up.”

  Lifting his head, glaring at her, he snarled, “I wanted him to suck my cock. He is a slave, after all.”

  “My slave, not yours.” Lifting her chin, Bithia called forth two guards. “Remove him. Keep him until I decide on his punishment.”

  A collective gasp almost changed the air pressure in the room. No member of the elite had ever been punished for taking advantage of a servant. At the far right end of the high table, Ambo hauled his ponderous weight up, his finger lifted to pontificate at length, but Bithia cut him off before he could utter a word. His ass slapped back into his seat long before he’d risen fully to his feet.

  “Let it be known that from this day forth, any citizen caught forcing a slave to perform sexual acts will be punished.” For too long she’d turned a blind eye to what her people did. No more. Letting Ambo and the others run her empire had let the elite believe they could do whatever they pleased with no repercussions.

  “But what about the ungati?” called a timid voice from the back of the room.

  It took her a moment to remember that the ungati gave pleasure as part of their obeisance to their gods. “Slaves crafted for pleasure still have the right to refuse.” Bithia let them grumble and moan. It was all they could do. She was the empress and her word was law. “I will not tolerate the use of force against those who have no voice to protest. Is that clear?”

  The room fell so quiet she could hear her heart beating against her chest. Had she pushed them too far?

  “You have your pleasure. Let us hear if your slave welcomes what you demand of him.”

  Her eyes sought out the speaker, but the man was smart enough to hide himself away after he spoke.

  “I have never forced any.” She lifted her hand to Viltori. “Ask him if I have ever compelled him to my bed.”

  After a moment, several people posed the question. In a timeless moment, she realized Viltori could have his revenge upon her now, if he chose. If he said yes, she would be deemed a hypocrite. The elite would continue with their ways, mocking and laughing openly at her. She realized just how vulnerable she’d made herself.

  Viltori’s gaze met hers, the cool brown of his eyes soft in the light. “Bithia has never forced me.” He bowed as she released a tense breath. “Beautiful women such as Bithia need only a wink and a smile to make any man a willing slave.”

  There were those who might have scoffed at him, but there was such a note of truth in his words, they ended up believing him. She felt something give in her heart, something she swore she would never feel toward any man again. Slow tender strings of tentative love began to wrap around him, binding her to him in ways that terrified her. Why did he have to be so blessedly perfect when she simply could not have him?

  Once she gave Drahka a daughter, then she could have him, but that was a long way away. Bithia didn’t think she could resist Viltori that long. Already she hungered for him. Even now, as he simply stood there, she wanted him.

  “No! It needs to be said!” A man with pale features came to his feet, fighting off the restraining hand of his mate. His deep violet outfit glittered with gems, indicating he was of the highest rank. “We are told to control our appetites when our empress parts her legs for all on the planet!” He looked about, seeking agreement. When he found accord, he became bolder and lifted his voice higher. “So vulgar are you that the only man they could find to mate with you comes from another world!”

  Some gasped, but many nodded. Others remained decidedly removed from the accusations, waiting to see which way the group went before they joined their voices. These were the most dangerous people. Like milling animals, they waited to see which direction the herd went, then ran headlong without thinking.

  Bithia knew her wanton ways might one day harm her. She hadn’t cared then, but she did now. She couldn’t even glance at Drahka to see if he understood what was being said about her. But then, the color of the man’s suit gave away the reason for his anger. His daughter had competed with her for the right to become the empress. Janda, the woman’s name was. No wonder the man was furious. His family could have ruled the empire if not for her. And what he said was true. She had fucked and sucked just about every man in the palace in three cycles. So what? None had said no. All of them were willing. Most had hoped for some type of favoritism, but they were not disappointed when she grew bored and moved on without giving them anything other than shattering orgasms. And too, since she’d been bonded, she’d been true to her mate, just as was demanded of her. In her eyes, she had done no wrong. Her only concern was that she did not want her past to hurt Drahka. In a way, she had hoped he would never find out, but that was foolish. Of course, he would find out, she just didn’t think it would be in such a public forum. Drahka had saved himself for her. She hadn’t been able to give him the same gift.

  Drahka drew slowly to his feet, his gaze riveted on the man in violet. Bithia feared he would lunge over the table, lift his sword on high and cleave the man in two. Instead, he did the last thing she expected.

  “You will not speak to my chosen in such a way.” His voice was calm, but clearly in command. She shivered when she realized he was using the same tone Viltori did when he ordered them about in the bedchamber. “I defend her and the empire.” Drahka placed his hand over his sword, ready to draw it at the slightest provocation.

  Eyebrows rose.

  Bithia realized they thought Drahka was simpleminded and didn’t gras
p their language. They probably thought he was sitting there oblivious to what was going on. A surge of pride filled her, for he might be from an unsophisticated world, but he was no idiot. His clear words and strong stance showed him as a powerful man who did not need to shout to be heard. Again, her heart felt those same soft tendrils reaching out, binding her to him.

  Swallowing hard, the man in violet finally allowed his mate to yank him back to his seat. Whatever his problems with her, he had no desire to take on Drahka in a fight. The man might have the courage of strong drink, but he was not so foolish as to fight a man twice his size.

  Drahka’s eyes swept along the tables as if he sought another disgruntled voice. None responded. He turned his head to her, gazing into her eyes as if to reassure her he would always be there to protect her. When she extended her arm, he gently clasped her hand. Together they settled back to their seats.

  Slowly, the celebration resumed, but there was less noise and far more sobriety. Apparently, no other citizen wanted alcohol to loosen his or her tongue. Swift retribution by her bondmate had cautioned them to moderation. But still, the truth was out that her own people thought little of her. Bithia couldn’t blame them, but she still didn’t believe she’d actually done anything wrong. What irked her so was that her father had been held in high regard for his lustful ways. When it was revealed her mother had had a long-term, ongoing affair with the same man for many seasons, the citizens decried Clathia as a lustful yondie. Her half-sister, the former empress, Kasmiri, came from the trysts of her mother Clathia and another man, Helton Ook, an unofficial consort. The dual rules infuriated Bithia. Men were encouraged to find pleasure with as many women as they could, including her biological father, and yet they expected women, like her biological mother, Clathia, to remain true to one man. Grandathall! The only way that worked is if all the men used the same woman! Then, in a flash of insight, Bithia realized that Diolan women were just as lusty, only they were more discreet. That was where she had made her mistake—she had flaunted her licentious ways.

  “You seem deep in thought, my chosen.” Drahka lifted his cup to his lips and drank.

  Smiling warmly at him, she placed her hand upon his thigh. “I am thinking of what I will do to you.”

  For the first time, she saw him smile. Ever so slowly, his lips tilted up, transforming his face. He did not part his lips to show his teeth, but still, his grin was most becoming.

  Leaning over, she kissed him softly. Returning her kiss, he cupped her hand and slid it slowly up to his cock. Hard and hot below his trousers, his cock pressed against the echalle as if it would burst through the fabric.

  “I am burning for you,” he whispered to her ear.

  Viltori leaned forward. “He’s been drinking illias.”

  Bithia knew all about the sparkling aphrodisiac. Once, she’d deliberately given some to a slave in the hopes of reaping the benefits. Kerrick had refused, preferring to remain true to his owner. At the time, she’d been a bit upset, and then that pain returned, because no man had ever sacrificed anything to be with her. Until now. Bithia realized how lucky she was to have not one, but two men willing to defend her. If the worse of it came, she believed they would lay down their lives for her. Tears gathered in her eyes, and she blinked them rapidly away. It wouldn’t help her image to be caught crying openly in public. No matter that they were tears of joy; she had to keep them to herself.

  Without a word of explanation, Bithia, Drahka and Viltori left the celebration. When Viltori tried to stay the customary ten paces behind, she offered out her arm. After kissing her hand, he looped his arm with hers. Drahka followed suit. Arm in arm, her firmly sandwiched between the two strong men, they returned to her rooms.

  Sleepy-eyed servants entered from the back. Bithia gave them several instructions, then turned to Viltori.

  “I am having them bring you something to eat. I’m sorry you were not seated or fed at the celebration.” She genuinely regretted the way she’d treated him when he had no ill will toward her at all.

  He shook his head. “You could not have broken protocol that deeply without some type of outcry.”

  “Still, it will not happen again.” Stepping forward, she untied the sash and tossed it aside. “I don’t want someone to hurt you in my name.”

  Viltori grinned. “They were two tubby drunken men and I was once a recruit.”

  “Still.” He confirmed her belief that there was more to him than being an acolyte. A man who spent his life in service to the gods would not have such a strong body or such a perverse mind. “I would not let anyone force you. Not even I would do so.” Tears again tried to fill her gaze, but she turned away before he could see. Her gaze fell on Drahka, who stood silently watching them.

  His face was drawn tight, as if he wished to say something she would not want to hear.

  “You can speak freely, Drahka.” Was he upset by her obvious interest in Viltori? How could he be when he’d shown indications he wanted him too?

  After a deep breath, Drahka said, “I do not like your people.”

  That was about the last thing she expected him to say. Delighted, she laughed. “I do not like them, either.”

  Relief washed over his features. “I think some would try to hurt you.” He looked at Viltori, then back to her. “They were angry at what you took from them.”

  “He’s right, my lady.” Viltori held his words until after the servants put the platters of food on the table and left. Settling himself, he removed the covers and filled his plate. “We must make plans to ensure your safety.”

  Drahka joined him, nodding agreement. “I do not trust the sparkling man in the deep-colored suit. He was very angry.”

  Bithia explained why he was so upset, that his daughter had vied for the position she now held, but neither man seemed to care.

  “Whether that is the reason or not doesn’t matter.” Viltori licked his fingers and she had to forcefully keep her concentration on his words and not his mouth. “Anger like that festers in a man. He will spread his hate to others. Given the color of his suit and the gems, I would say he is the highest-ranking member of his House. All those below him will support his position. They in turn could rouse support from the other Houses.”

  Bithia did not want to think of political intrigues, not now, not when she had the two most handsome men in the entire empire in her rooms. “There is little we can do about the situation tonight. Besides, I feel safe here, with my guards posted and two strong men to protect me.” She darted her gaze between Viltori and Drahka. After a pause, she dared to ask a question she might not like the answer to. “Drahka, did you understand what they said about me?”

  “That many men gave to you?” He nodded proudly. “I understood this, but not why they were angry about it.” Drahka looked from Viltori to her. “In my tribe, a woman who had many men eager to give to her would be considered very powerful.”

  Astonished by his answer, Bithia realized that for all her thinking his ways were backwards, she finally understood that in some ways, his tribe was quite sophisticated. “And you, Viltori, what do you think?”

  A wanton smirk rolled across his lips. “I agree with Drahka. They are simply jealous that so many men gave to you and yet you are now content with your bondmate.”

  What he said sparked a momentary confusion, for she was not content with just Drahka. Bithia was determined to have both men.

  Wiping his mouth, Viltori flashed a look to Drahka, and both men stood. Bithia did not understand exactly how the men communicated so clearly without words, but they seamlessly moved as one, Viltori embracing her from behind as Drahka cupped her face.

  “My beautiful chosen.” Drahka tilted her face up to his, kissing her with soft nips that deepened as she leaned into him. His mouth tasted of illias, sweet and compelling.

  Behind her, Viltori released the clasp that held up her dress. “Wicked empress.” His hands followed the fabric as the garment fell down to pool around her feet. She could no
t see him, but she knew he was on his knees because he kissed her calves, his strong fingers sliding down to remove her shoes. “Defender of the weak, protector of the poor.”

  She would have laughed, but Drahka distracted her by cupping her breasts. His hands were so big they almost covered the entire surface of her chest. And what Viltori said was true—she was a wicked empress. She vowed to live up to the other title he’d bestowed upon her. From now on, she would defend the weak and protect those who could not protect themselves. Inside she sighed. It must be love she felt for these men, as she had never wanted to live up to anyone’s expectations before.

  Drahka drew one nipple then the other into his mouth, sending shivers straight down to her clit. Viltori stroked his hands up the insides of her thighs, gently pushing them apart, until he reached her bottom. Splitting her cheeks, he breathed out against the ring of puckered flesh, causing her to arch her back, simultaneously thrusting her breasts into Drahka’s willing mouth and her bottom toward Viltori’s face.

  Standing between them, her hands feeling useless, she lifted one to stroke Drahka’s long hair. The other she reached back, twining her fingers in Viltori’s silky locks. What had she done to deserve such profound pleasure? Just when she thought her body could take no more, Drahka lowered slowly to his knees, parted her thighs gently, and then breathed against her clit.

  Both men now teased her with their hot, moist breath. One in the front, the other at her back. Holding still, she kept her hands on their heads, afraid that if she closed her eyes she would lose her balance. And then, by some unspoken agreement, each man slid his tongue out. Drahka’s swiped hard and fast against her clit as Viltori’s flicked across the sensitive flesh of her bottom.

  A strange noise startled her until she realized it came from deep in her chest. A moan, a groan, a plaintive whimper erupted, pouring out the truth of her pleasure from between her lips. In concert, the men tongued her body until she gasped breathlessly.