Wicked Empress:The Onic Empire, Book 4

by Anitra Lynn McLeod

  Blinking slowly, Viltori said, “I still have more to teach you.”

  “I’m looking forward to your lessons.” Drahka sighed and gave his head one last loving stroke. “Now you should rest. I will stay and watch over you.”

  This thought lured Viltori into sleep with a satisfied smile on his face that turned wistful then sad when he remembered the prophetic words of the woman with silver hair.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Sleep pulled at Bithia, but she was determined to put this issue to rest before she found her own. Arguments had raged for a quarter cycle over the appointment of a new magistrate. All her choices were immediately rejected. She in turn rejected all the suggestions of the Houses. In the end, her advisors stepped forward, fielding names in the hopes they could come to an agreement. Without a magistrate, many rites and ceremonies were on hold. Bithia hated to admit the truth, but for all his annoying ways, Ambo deftly handled an amazing number of responsibilities.

  Even with that grudging admittance, she did not regret what she had done. Leading a rebellion against the throne was best handled with swift and sure retribution. Visibly cowed, the House heads voiced their dissent, but with respect. No more would they openly demean her or her decrees. They might do so privately, but outbursts and treasonous comments uttered to her face had ceased. Bithia realized she had only herself to blame for their disdain of her. From the moment she’d arrived on Diola, she’d treated her position as a joke, calling them all peckards and letting Ambo rule in her stead. No more. Ambo had convinced her to be a figurehead while he did all the work. What he’d done was turn her empire into his own. What saved her was the simplest thing: tribute.

  The prior Harvester, Ariss, had sat in residence in the temple once a cycle, giving all the palace guards a chance to give tribute. During this ritual, the guards would kneel before her and masturbate. This was the only honorable way for them to find release. When Ariss and Kerrick had left the palace, there was none to sit upon the temple throne to receive their offerings.

  Bithia felt for their plight.

  She thought it utterly unfair that those virile men were expected to contain themselves until they bonded. At her behest, Undanna had uncovered a very ancient part of the Harvest prophecy that said if there was no female Harvester, then the empress may sit upon her throne and receive tribute from the guards. Bithia willingly went to the Throne of the Empress each cycle. While she sat upon her elaborately carved Onic throne, every guard had come before her, grateful and eager to give his offering. Three times Bithia had donned an exquisite crimson dress that exposed her breasts, then sat upon her throne as the guards looked upon her to find their pleasure. As the first empress in thousands of seasons to revive the tradition, the guards were fiercely loyal to her. When Ambo ordered them to go against her, they rebelled against him instead.

  Though she had said nothing at the time, she already knew Helton Ook. As the head of the palace guard, he too was allowed to give tribute, and had, all three times. Realizing who he was when Kasmiri introduced him, she wondered if he’d thought of her mother while he gave up his tribute. Bithia thought it prudent not to mention this before the man’s daughter, but she wondered if her indulgence encouraged him to help Viltori.

  Now that Viltori had recovered to full health, she was unable to punish Blue-green House for his death, so she made an example of them by sending the entire House from the palace for ten seasons. At the end of that time, they would be welcomed back, but she had cautioned their head gravely. “Should you or those of your House return with hatred burning in your hearts, you will be cast out into permanent exile.” Such was a caution for him not to spend the next ten seasons fostering loathing against her. This punishment might be another reason the House heads had learned to bite their tongues.

  Blue-green’s protocol liaison had argued valiantly against their removal, but Bithia had the right to refuse anyone from living in the palace. “Living here is a privilege, not a right, and I will have the hallways echoing from emptiness before I will allow conspirators in my midst.”

  In the end, realizing that further protestation would only get him a more drastic punishment, the leader of Blue-green House had accepted her ruling and departed. Watching him, his family, and all their worldly possessions float away in the cylindrical turusk had given a visual reminder to those left behind. Bithia was not a woman to be crossed. No more did she spend her time hopping from man to man and party to party. Now she ran her empire with a strong hand and a determined heart. She’d been unable to uncover Ambo’s cache of riches, but that was the least of her concerns. By the end of most days she was too exhausted to do anything with her two lovers other than cuddle, although there were other reasons for that as well.

  “Menon Levotch.”

  Bithia startled at the bellowing voice of the palace guard. Returning to the present, she tapped at her floating blue screen, scrolled through the list of names, found his and quickly scanned the information. A former Harvester from the Plete region, he’d served two seasons before selecting a bondmate. After retiring, he’d returned to his homeland to help his widowed mother run their nicla farm. The only reason he was here now was at the behest of Bithia’s advisors. Menon clearly stated that he did not want to vie for the position of magistrate; however, he also realized he could not refuse an official summoning.

  Turning her gaze to the side door, she couldn’t wait to see this refreshingly honest candidate. From the arched doorway emerged a man as massive as the two guards who flanked him. Straight copper hair flowed across his forehead, bringing attention to his golden eyes. His skin was deeply white, almost the color of snow, but warmed by small bronze dots. His nose hooked to the left, probably from a break during his years as a recruit. His lips were perfectly formed, but just a shade too dark for Bithia’s tastes. Moving with the lumbering of a great beast, he strode toward the edge of the circle so she and all in attendance could get a good look at him.

  Menon’s clothing was black as was due his prior Harvester status, but simple in cut and fabric, with lighter patches at the knees and elbows. Clearly, his family farm was not doing well if he could not afford a suit to come to the palace. Or, given his attitude, perhaps he didn’t wish to waste his funds on something frivolous for a post he didn’t want. Still, his chest was wide, his hips narrow, and his legs long. Looking closer at his hands, she realized they were rather too big for his arms, and his palms were red with scratches. Here was a man accustomed to hard labor. Like Drahka, his body did not come from sculpting or brutal training, but from work.

  She listened attentively as the House heads pelted him with questions. Menon answered in simple, forthright terms. His voice was soothingly low, almost like the rumbling of the far distant sea during a storm. Despite the personal and imposing nature of some of the questions, he maintained his dignity, neither flinching nor leaning forward with eagerness. Straight and tall, he kept his body still as he turned his head to address each speaker. As he turned to Orange House, Bithia noticed a slight silvering of hair above his ears. Just a tiny bit of gray in the copper gave him added maturity. Considering her screen again, she discovered his age was forty-three seasons. Returning her gaze to him, she thought he carried his age well. If not for that hint of silver, she would have put him in his thirties.

  When the Houses and her advisors had run themselves dry of questions, Bithia asked, “Your predecessor, Ambo Votny, was put to the stone for treason. Do you agree with his punishment?”

  Unlike those who had gone before him, Menon didn’t hem and haw, fumbling for an answer. His golden eyes hit hers directly. “My lady,” he bowed slightly, “Ambo Votny was a disgusting man who couldn’t control his lusts. Food, wine, young women. Anyone with one of those three things could bribe the man into their favor. I am surprised it took this long for an empress to have him executed.”

  From him flowed a pure confidence in his words. He spoke from his heart with pride and fierce determination. This man was honorable a
nd he would be a fair arbitrator of disputes between the Houses. Too, he would not be swayed by bribes.

  “I approve.” Bithia considered now her advisors. Each stood and gave their approval. When her attention turned to the heads of the Houses, she saw what a neat trap they were in—to disapprove of this man would be tantamount to admitting they were holding out for a magistrate who was bribable. Realization filled their eyes as they glanced from him to her. In the end, the remaining ten Houses approved the appointment of Menon Levotch as magistrate.

  He matched her sigh of relief with a deep breath that he held for a long moment before releasing it between frowning lips. Bowing to her and all in the circle, he swore, “I will do my best.” With that, he turned and lumbered from the room, his head held high, but his shoulders slightly slumped. His body language said it all. He did not want to do this, but he would. Tomorrow would be time enough to indoctrinate him and perform the ceremony to make him the official magistrate.

  Pleased that she finally solved one of her many dilemmas, Bithia made her way to her suite of rooms. Behind her trailed four guards. After what happened to Viltori and Drahka, she no longer went anywhere without a contingent of strong men. She insisted her lovers do the same, despite their objections. In the end, it was Viltori who relented and convinced Drahka having some extra muscle behind them couldn’t hurt.

  Upon reaching her rooms, the two guards posted greeted her warmly, then pulled the massive wooden doors open. The fading light of Tandalsul slanting through the glass ceiling softened the blinding whiteness of the main room. Behind her, the guards wished her well and closed the doors.

  “My lady.” Viltori approached with a welcoming smile. Wrapped in a simple crimson robe that showed off his golden hair, he looked scrumptious. Just seeing him on his own two feet almost brought tears to her eyes. Keeping her hands off him had been difficult, but she’d been too exhausted since he’d returned to do anything about her building lust. “We have a surprise for you.” He took her hand and led her to the low-back couch that angled away from their raised bed. When she opened her mouth, he pressed his finger to her lips, silencing her.

  Dubious, she allowed him to settle her upon the sinking softness of the cushions. Placing a pillow in the hollow of her lower back, he motioned to Drahka. He too wore a crimson robe, yet his managed to show off his dark eyes and hair. She smiled, as she adored seeing them in her color, and it pleased her that red complemented each of them. Now that she had named a new magistrate, she could begin pushing for a new bonding ceremony in earnest. A part of her heart sank, because she knew she would have to choose only one to be her bondmate. She could have as many consorts as she desired, but only one eternal bondmate. Picking a favorite between the two seemed an impossible task.

  “Whatever you are thinking of, stop it at once.” Viltori pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I can see it’s unpleasant and this night is about us making you happy.”

  “You are the one who was just released from the infirmary. Drahka and I should be—”

  Again, he shushed her. Leaning close, he whispered, “Don’t make me bind you, because you know I will.”

  Secretly thrilling at his erotic threat, Bithia decided to indulge him. She settled into the couch, waiting to see what they would do, because clearly, they were up to something. Drahka sat on the floor with his legs crossed, his robe parting just enough to give her a tantalizing glimpse between his thighs. He scooped her legs into his lap, and proceeded to remove her shoes and rub her feet. Melting into a contented puddle, she grinned down at him, her heart singing when he smiled back.

  A waft of food smells intensified. Beside her, Viltori held a plate filled with all kinds of treats that he fed to her a bite at a time. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to utterly relax as they tended to her every need. Finished with her feet, Drahka moved up to her calves. His big hands kneaded deep into her muscles, forcing the tension to dissipate as Viltori filled her belly with choice morsels.

  When she could eat no more, he leaned over, for a kiss, she thought, but he actually passed wine from his mouth to hers. Delighted with this erotic way of drinking, she willingly met his lips again and again until a pleasant warmth stole all the tension from her form. It seemed a lifetime since she’d been relaxed. Blinking her eyes lazily, she discovered Viltori’s hands at the tied straps of her dress. Catching her gaze, he pulled the crimson fabric bows apart. Releasing the straps caused her heavy breasts to fall free of the fabric prison. Cool air peaked her nipples.

  Viltori’s gaze and hand moved down to her exposed breasts. Palming the heavy weights, he flicked his thumbs over her taut nipples, causing the flesh to contract further and her to sink lower into the couch as she arched her back.

  Drahka continued up her legs, his strong hands working the muscles of her thighs. Each movement he made pushed her dress up as Viltori’s pushed the top down. Fabric bunched around her waist. She felt utterly tawdry being dressed and yet exposed, here on her couch, with one man at her head and the other at her feet. When she reached out to touch Viltori, he moved back, but captured her arms.

  “No, my lady. Tonight is about you. Only you.” Compelling her to interlace her fingers, he planted her hands behind her head. “You will relax and let us do all the work.”

  Feeling special and pampered, Bithia dissolved into contented bliss. In all the empire, there were not two men who knew how to please her better than these two did. To have their full and undivided attention riveted to her was heady indeed. She felt every inch an indulged empress.

  Cupping her full breasts, one in each large hand, Viltori lifted them up, sliding her nipples between his fingers until they were so hard they were like twin pebbles upon her chest.

  “Such full, firm breasts begging for my mouth.” Leaning near to her ear, he whispered, “That’s what you want, isn’t it, lovely lady. My lips upon your hard nipples. Biting and sucking and chewing.”

  His wicked words caused her to lean her head back as she tried to lift her breasts toward his face. He chuckled lightly and pinched her nipples. Her moan only encouraged him to take each bud between fingers and thumbs. Hesitating for a moment, he waited until she took a breath, then twisted. Liquid pleasure flowed straight down to her cunt.

  With a wicked laugh, he held something before her eyes. “Have you ever seen these?”

  Bithia considered the pair of slender wires. In the center of each wire was a circle about the size of his fingertip. She shook her head.

  “After today, you will never forget them.” Sliding the wires along her sensitive breasts, he pushed until the circles encompassed her nipples. When they did, they emitted a low vibration and gentle warmth.

  “Such a wanton empress.” Viltori rubbed his face against her ear, then encouraged her to watch Drahka.

  Looking down through barely opened eyes, she watched his hands push her legs apart, sprawling her across the couch and exposing her to his hungry gaze.

  “Just as you said, she wears nothing below.” Drahka looked up to Viltori then met her gaze. “Naughty empress with her glory bare.” He admonished her with a series of soft tsks.

  “Is she wet?” Viltori asked, squeezing her breasts together, making the wires vibrate faster.

  Drahka made a great show of pushing her legs apart as if to get a better look. Angling her legs up and back, he had her immobilized and fully spread before him. He brought his face very close, so close she felt his breath caressing the lips of her aching sex.

  “Very wet.” Lifting his head, he caught her gaze again. “So wet she has made a mark upon her skirt.” Sliding the fabric forward caused her body to shift forward, pulling her down the couch and pushing her legs back even more. Letting go of her breasts, Viltori captured her legs just behind her knee, holding her in place for Drahka’s continued inspection.

  With one massive hand on either side of her sex, he spread her cunt lips apart, exposing the sensitive inner flesh to the cool air. When he lowered his lips and breathed a moist
breath against her, she shuddered. Viltori gripped her knees more firmly. Captured between the two strong men, she now realized that even if she wished to move, she couldn’t. Neatly they had trapped her.

  “What a sweet, hot cunt you have, my lady.” Drahka looked right into her eyes as he spoke, his words flowing over her held open sex. “Pink and perfect between ebony folds.”

  On the tip of her tongue, a stream of orders rested, but she knew if she issued them, they would only laugh and drag her torment out further. Despite her building needs, she kept her mouth closed.

  “Does she smell good?” Viltori nuzzled her ear, nipping along the tip as he breathed against her. With the wires humming against her nipples, he was free to hold her legs while he bit and kissed her sensitive neck.

  “Good enough to eat,” Drahka said, pushing his hands farther apart, opening her even more.

  They knew just how to torment her. Teasing her with their breath while making her wait for their touches was maddening. Her body felt afire. Forcefully held exposed like a wanton yondie, she struggled briefly to find a more dignified position, but neither man would let her move.

  “I like you this way, Bithia. Spread out so we can do what we please to you. All the sinful things we have been thinking of.”

  Her moan became a cry of need.

  “Is her little clit hard?”

  Drahka’s hands smoothed up, his fingers parting her flesh, exposing her throbbing clit to cold air. Shivering, she again tried to curl in.

  “Hard and trembling.” Drahka’s words brought another body-deep shudder as they wafted heat over her demanding clit. “Ah, I can see her contracting inside, longing for something to fill that snug space.”

  “Is that it, Bithia? Do you want something to fill your hot, tight cunt?”

  She wanted to answer, but didn’t dare. Turning her head to the side, she caught Viltori’s gaze, pleading with her eyes. His masterful smile sent a new erotic thrill over her flesh. Not in all her life had she found a more commanding man. Pressing his face to hers, his lips a whisper from hers, he asked, “How about Drahka’s big, thick cock? Would you like that plunging into your greedy slit?”