The punishment he knew was coming would have been worth enduring with NarrAy as his reward when it was over and he was finally free.
Now?
How could he endure Saint-Cyr's punishment now?
The sound of NarrAy's movements drew his attention. She had gotten into bed. A blanket rolled up like a tube was laid down the center. She switched off the light, plunging the room into darkness.
“Good night, Senth.” The strain in her voice cut through the dark, spearing his heart like a shard of ice.
A moment later, a pillow whumped the floor near his feet and the blanket followed.
Senth dragged them closer and lie down. Wetness pooled against his lashes, and he dashed it away, refusing to succumb to the tears of a boy.
She doesn't have time for a boy? Fine. I can be the man she wants. No more games. No more making life fun. I don't have to enjoy my work. I can just do the job, think of everything as a chore the way everyone else does, and never play again. I know the rules. I can comply. I can be a success. Touch all the bases, obey all the rules.
His disclaimer of a few hours earlier came to mind.
Saint-Cyr's obedient little thief. Controlled. Never arguing. Never questioning. Taking what he gives me and keeping my mouth shut. Guess that will be my life after all.
NarrAy tossed on the bed, and he listened to the sound of her breathing until it slowed and she fell asleep. A sobbing sigh left her throat, like a child, weary after a bout of crying.
Senth curled one arm beneath him, grimacing at the spasms in his stomach. The boy's fist might have bruised him, but the pain of a beating was trifling compared to the agony of NarrAy's words stabbing through his heart.
He lay in painful silence a long time before sleep overcame him, his senses drowning in the smell of roses and the memory of sweet, warm vanilla on his tongue.
* * * *
Tarth, Tarth City
Imperial Palace, Stable—Sample Level
After his bath, Khyff wrapped himself in a thick, terry robe and nodded off in the barber chair while Triss shaved him. He flinched awake when a cool towel wrapped around his face.
“Easy.” Trey patted Khyff's hand. “I'm almost finished with your manicure. Nice hands, by the way. A lot of men never care for their nails.”
Khyff grunted in thanks. Stalkos made them all stay clean, especially the ones who earned him the most money.
Triss unfolded a massage table, and he and Trey covered Khyff with a light blanket. They exposed only the part of him they worked on at that time, and once he trusted their touches would not turn sexual, he relaxed beneath their capable hands. In no hurry, they lavished attention on each muscle group, paying as much time on his fingers and toes as they did his abdomen and chest.
A man could get spoiled here in a big hurry. I'll be useless the rest of the day after this massage.
Khyff lashed himself mentally for his complacent thoughts, steeling himself against the seduction of such indolent pleasure. Before long, though, that same pleasure soothed him to sleep.
When it was time to dress for dinner, the twins woke him and escorted him back to his room.
Trey held out a charcoal floor-length tunic. The high collar, shoulders, and long sleeves were a solid piece, but the rest consisted of narrow strips of gray cloth.
“I'm not wearing that.”
“They always say that,” Trey told Triss, who nodded agreeably.
Khyff folded his arms across his chest. “There is no ffffftting way I'm walking around wearing a bunch of fluttering gray ribbons.”
The twins laughed.
“It's your costume for the induction ceremony,” Trey explained. “Everyone wears one.”
Khyff gauged their expressions against his limited time with them. “If you two are setting me up, I am going to break you in half.”
He slipped on the tunic and fastened it. Standing still, the gray strips covered him completely, but one step and he exposed his entire body.
“Where are the pants?”
“They always ask that, too,” Triss commented. “There are none.”
“Forget it. I'm not going anywhere dressed like this.” He started unfastening the collar.
“We could escort you naked,” Trey said, “but Her Majesty wants you to wear that.”
Khyff hesitated. The twins were his own height, no more muscled than himself. He could take them in a fair fight.
“Her Majesty wants me to wear this? You're sure?”
“Positive.” Trey folded his hands.
Damn it! With a small shake of his head, he refastened the tunic. No point arriving bruised and beaten.
Triss held out a man's gold ring set with onyx and circled with diamonds.
“Put it on the first finger of your left hand.”
Khyff complied, held out his hand to examine the ring. He brought it closer and smiled. The letter K was carved into the onyx.
“This is the first letter of my name.”
“Jewelry shows Her Majesty's favor.”
“Oh, so everyone gets a ring.”
Trey gave him a knowing look. “No. No one starts out with anything. Her Majesty will give you a ring shaped like a fist at the ceremony tonight, which goes on your right hand. That's the first jewelry most jades receive. The fact that you're wearing jewelry in her colors won't go unnoticed by the others.”
“Jades?”
“Stable members.”
As in jaded. Khyff rubbed his thumb across the ring. Or slaked. He dropped his hands.
Triss opened the door. “Shall we go?”
Khyff glanced down at himself. “Don't I at least get shoes?”
Triss shook his head.
Khyff counted doors and memorized turns, knowing signs on the wall offered him no help later. Triss and Trey stayed on either side of him through a maze of corridors that soon had him panicking, checking over his shoulder.
I'll never find my way out of here.
“Relax.” Trey patted him on the shoulder. “We're assigned to you, so we won't leave you anywhere. Besides, you'll be in new quarters after this.”
Prison face, Khyff. You're giving yourself away. The tunic fluttered around his legs when he walked, exposing every part of him. Would Destoiya be there? His cock thickened at the thought, and he raised a hand to his forehead in dismay. Talk about giving yourself away…
They entered a dining area with one large table set with a candelabra, a white tablecloth, china, and crystal. Seven men stood around it, all decked out in black formal evening clothes.
Khyff froze to the spot, fury rising in his gut.
“You lied to me,” he whispered furiously. “No one else is wearing one of these things.”
“We didn't lie.” Trey smiled. “Every one of them wore a tunic like this at his own induction.”
The seven other men had been talking amongst themselves, and they turned as one to stare at Khyff.
He set his hands in front of him.
One of the blonds walked toward him. The others resumed talking as if nothing had happened.
Tall and slender, the one approaching wore his hair as short as Khyff's. The beauty of his perfectly symmetrical features marked him as a Better.
“Alitus Vivaldi.” He extended a hand. “It's okay to touch me. I'm totally attuned to Her Majesty. I can't addict you.”
He shook hands with him. The man had a firm grip. “Khyff Antonello.”
“Welcome to the stable, Khyff. Also known as the male harem, the lair, den, corral, and kennel. Or as we like to call it,” Alitus quirked one brow, “the cockpit.”
Khyff smiled. “I hear you're the favorite around here.”
He chuckled. “Depends on what day it is.” Alitus made a dismissive gesture to Triss and Trey, and they bowed slightly before moving off. “Here, Khyff. You'll need this.” He reached into a pocket and withdrew a sheet of paper, which he unfolded.
Black marks trailed down the page. His name was at the top and a list of numbers on the left si
de. A prickle of sweat broke out under his arms.
“Those are your vows.”
What am I going to do now?
“I know you can't read,” Alitus said, without condemnation or ridicule. “Her Majesty knows, too. It's okay.” He nodded toward the others. “They never have to find out. I'll coach you on what to say.” He handed Khyff a bud no bigger than the end of a stylus. “Put this in your ear.”
When he did, the tiny device melted and flowed into the ear canal.
“Easy,” Alitus assured him when Khyff twitched from concern. “It's supposed to liquefy.”
“What's it do?”
“It's a temporary listening device. Be gone before dinner's over.” He adjusted a pin on his evening jacket. “Can you hear me?”
He touched his ear. Alitus's voice came through distinctly. “It's perfect.”
“Good.” He looked over his shoulder. “The servants are entering. That means Her Majesty's here.”
A dozen or more male servants in black uniforms filed through the door, lining up around the outside of the area next to Triss and Trey.
Khyff blinked. Every one of the servants in the room had the same face. Triss and Trey were not twins.
They were androids.
“They look real, don't they?” Alitus adjusted his cuffs. “Appearances only. They'll lay down their lives to protect you. Enormous physical strength. Any one of them could pick us both up and walk off with us without straining a muscle. They're incapable of sex in any fashion, though I doubt you'd care, but some of the others do. Friendly, warm, comfortable to be around. Easy to confide in. They'll laugh and joke with you, but never let yourself forget they are one hundred percent loyal to Her Majesty. They don't.”
Destoiya entered the room, and the other men gathered around her, bowing and then kissing her on the lips when she greeted them one at a time.
Destoiya wore a black evening gown, sleeveless and strapless, her hair up. Ice blue fire crystals glittered at her throat, ears, and wrists.
Alitus sighed, watching her with open longing. “She's fabulous, isn't she?”
Khyff murmured a response he doubted Alitus even heard, so taken was the man with Destoiya. Was that part of the addiction?
Alitus blinked as if suddenly aware of his surroundings. He turned to Khyff.
“Her Majesty will come and lead you to the stage in a moment. This ceremony gives everyone else a peek at the competition. You'll feel naked as hell, but resist the urge to cover yourself. I remember how I felt.” He chuckled. “All I could think about while I stood up there was that I hoped my dick was covered.”
Khyff swallowed.
“You don't have anything to be ashamed of, believe me.” Alitus grinned. “We all share the same pool and gymnasium, among other things. You'll get your turn to check us out, whether you want to or not, I'm afraid.”
Before Khyff could ask about that cryptic comment, Destoiya walked up to them, and they both bowed to her.
“Good evening, Majesty.” Alitus leaned forward and kissed her on the mouth. “You look radiant this evening.”
“You always say that, Alitus.” Destoiya smiled up at the man like a young girl newly in love. And not a thing false about her expression.
Khyff smiled in appreciation. He really must be good.
Alitus picked up her hand and bowed over it, then pressed her fingers against his lips. “Because you're always beautiful to me, Majesty.”
He inclined his head to Khyff and returned to the group of men, who were seating themselves around the large table.
Destoiya turned to Khyff. “You shook hands with him, didn't you?”
“Yes, Majesty, he said it was…”
He broke off when Destoiya laughed.
Damn. “He affected me, didn't he?”
“Don't take it too hard. Making people like him is part of what he is. Alitus will never know a true enemy. He'll have foes, yes, and people who want to displace him, but it's impossible not to like him once he touches you. I've never seen it wear off, either. One of the finest Betters ever made. I count myself fortunate to have him. I'm sure I waste his talents by not making him an ambassador or politician, but in truth I can't bear to part with him for any length of time.” She looked Khyff up and down. “You look good enough to eat.”
“Thank you. This…” he gestured to the tunic, “—makes me uncomfortable.”
“Good. I want you squirming.” Her gaze slid down him. “Did Alitus tell you what to do?”
Khyff touched his ear. “He said he'd coach me and that you knew…”
“I do.” She took his hand. “We'll go up on the stage in a moment. I'll say your name, then go through your vows. You'll respond to me as Alitus directs you. You're not my slave, Khyff. I want you to understand that.”
He swallowed, his throat so tight he could not speak even if he knew what to say in response.
“Your vows are those of a free man. I'll ask if you're willing to stay with me. But, until I have the item your brother now possesses, you have no choice about leaving me. Afterward, if you decide you want to stay, the choice will be yours.”
“You gave me your word that Senth…”
“I will keep it. No harm will come to your brother. But until he delivers the item to me, you're my hostage, and I have every intention of enjoying your services while you're here.” She dragged a finger down his chest. “Exclusively. I'll pay attention to the others when I've gotten my fill of you.” She smiled slyly. “To that end, my jades are all hoping you drop dead on stage tonight.”
“Thank you. I feel so much better now.”
She laughed. “If your brother doesn't deliver as well as you do, Khyff…” Destoiya's mouth twitched into a sultry smile, “—the jades in my stable may be hating you for a long, long time.”
* * * *
Kelthia, Miraj City
Starhaven Leojnimaj
NarrAy wore a mid-length, plain red dress with long sleeves and a white lace collar. Red boots rose to her knees. She'd tucked her hair up and pinned it, and didn't bother with makeup, trying to blend in. Men stared at her anyway.
Except Senth.
He walked beside her in silence all the way through the starport, dragging his bagbot behind him, never once glancing her direction.
She'd asked for his scorn. Telling him they were over, that he was a child, that he meant nothing to her.
The grief at losing him washed over her and her step faltered, one foot twisting.
Senth immediately supported her arm. “Are you all right?”
NarrAy brightened at his concern, then withdrew her arm and nodded soberly. Can't let him touch me. Have to let him get my influence out of his system.
Senth glanced at her several times while they made their way to the non-secured area.
A driver in black opened the door to a hoversine when she and Senth exited the terminal. No doubt the shuttle was courtesy of Saint-Cyr and would be billed separately. NarrAy sighed.
Senth sat on the far side of the seat, gazing out the window, his profile serene. The energetic youth who'd slid on stockinged feet across the floor, locked himself in a bagbot for fun, and brought her candy and flowers might never have existed at all. Judging from his expression now, he might be older than his brother Khyff, the blond god of war and lust and anger and ancient, lonely eyes.
The car came to a stop outside a hotel, and Senth set a hand on the door handle.
“My master will want you to imprint the contract.” He did not look her direction. “He'll want to know I satisfied you.”
Those words dug into her heart.
NarrAy followed Senth into the hotel. A uniformed servant bowed to him like royalty, then led the way to a private elevator. On the fourteenth floor, Senth stepped out and gestured NarrAy to precede him.
The suite on this level occupied the entire floor, and a doorman swept a deep bow before opening double doors. The room beyond was open and spacious, far grander than the one they'd occupied on
Tarth. Pale paper lined the walls, gilded tables and oversized couches and chairs filled the huge space. A massive marble fireplace sat center stage on the far wall.
The Harbinger and a Praetorian guard faced each other on opposing couches.
NarrAy halted. A trap. I should have known.
But she'd passed the holopic containing the data to a resistance operative long before they left the ship. It was already on its way to another starport and, eventually, the rebel ship.
Destoiya would never get her hands on it.
Saint-Cyr came to his feet. The Praetorian followed suit.
“Senthys!” The Harbinger strode forward. “I thought you'd never get here. Ms. Jorlan, please be seated. I assure you, this is not what you think.”
“I'll stand.” NarrAy eyed the Praetorian before turning her attention to Saint-Cyr. “Suppose you tell me what it truly is then.”
Saint-Cyr inclined his head to the Praetorian. “Sir, if you please.”
Coming to attention, the oversized Kin clicked his boot heels together and made a slight bow.
“Lieutenant Tahll Jhareen, at your service. Her Majesty Empress Rheyn Destoiya directed me to obtain the data which your late parents hid within their belongings, Captain Jorlan.” He held out one hand. “If you would be so kind?”
“You expect me to hand over what my parents spent their lives working on? What they died for?” NarrAy snapped her fingers. “Give it up just like that? You must take me for a fool, Lieutenant.”
“Not at all, Captain Jorlan. Her Majesty expected your response. Therefore, I've been instructed to deliver this note to Mr. Antonello.”
“Me?” Senth had been standing at one side, arms folded tightly across his stomach. He accepted the envelope Jhareen offered.
Saint-Cyr gestured him to hurry, and moved to stand beside him. “Open it.”
Senth read the paper enclosed, and lifted eyes wide with terror.
“Let me see.” NarrAy took the paper from his hands.
It bore the Conqueror's seal and promised that unless Senth delivered the data for the jump prototype to Destoiya, Khyffen Antonello would die.
Chapter Nineteen
Kelthia, Miraj City
Even if NarrAy wanted to, she could not grant Destoiya the data, since it was already out of her hands. If her parents had died rather than surrender it to the Empress, she could do nothing less. But did that give her the right to Khyff's life as well?
At the Mercy of Her Pleasure Page 18
