by Aubrey Ross
“Don’t move.” He didn’t temper the command, couldn’t split his focus.
She immediately stilled and he covered her right breast, trying to ignore how perfectly the soft globe fit his palm. Her nipple hardened and she shivered. Both reactions were common, and the longer he lingered the more he wanted to squeeze. He moved his hand to her other breast, frustrated by the distraction. They were breasts, for Creator’s sake. He’d seen breasts before, touched them and sucked them. This should not be diverting his attention.
The discoloration faded, leaving perfect milk-white skin, crowned with tight red nipples. Nipples his thumb longed to stroke and his tongue wanted to tease. He forced his gaze away from her breasts and swept his hand lower. Her abdomen quivered as the heat intensified.
Carnal hunger joined the healing warmth and his cock hardened, expanding painfully within the confines of his armor. Why was he reacting this way? Healing fire had never turned him on before.
Perhaps it had nothing to do with his task. Maybe he just wanted to bury himself inside her warm body and fuck until they both lost track of reality.
He healed her abdomen then returned his gaze to her face. She stared at him with an intriguing combination of fear and wonder.
“You look like a warrior elf. I should have realized you could heal.”
“A warrior elf?” He smiled, charmed by her unexpected candor.
“All you need is pointed ears.”
He turned his head, displaying the rounded shape of his ear. “Sorry to disappoint you. Lie down.”
She crawled onto his bed, the only woman he’d ever allowed there, and turned her face toward him, resting her cheek on her folded arms. Her body was long-limbed and softly curved, her hair a riot of dark red curls. Autumn indeed. Every color of a harvest sunset had been captured in those silken strands.
Unlatching his armor as he crossed the room, he opened the chest plate and pulled his arms out of the sleeves. Then he hung the top half of his armor on the metal stand in the corner. He left his boots on and removed the leg encasements, snapping them around the lower section of the stand.
He rolled his shoulders, enjoying the cool air as it wafted across his overheated body. Formfitting yet flexible, the garments he wore beneath his armor were designed to protect his skin without limiting his range of motion. Would she notice his erection, or was she too distracted by her pain?
“Where have you been that you needed armor?”
He glanced at his guest and a long strand of his hair swooshed across his face. He finger-combed it back, not taking time to rework his queue. “I’m the military head of the Protectorate. I seldom leave this room without armor.”
“That many people want you dead?” There was no malice in her question or in her sky-blue eyes.
“Advancement within the Protectorate often involves assassination.”
“If you’re head honcho, can’t you change that fact?”
He wasn’t sure why her question annoyed him, but he bristled anyway. “Shall we talk politics, or would you like me to heal your back?”
“Sorry. The trainers warned me not to ask too many questions.” She turned her head, resting her chin on her arms as she gazed straight ahead.
Regretting his hasty words, he crossed to the bed and sat. She inhaled sharply then blew out her breath in a slow, steady hiss.
“I must touch you again. It can’t be helped.”
She nodded but didn’t make a sound.
He started with the backs of her thighs and worked his way up her body. Her ass cheeks healed quickly but his fingers lingered, savoring the velvety texture of her skin. “Was this really your first assignment?” His gaze focused on the black lace protecting her folds. He wanted to stroke her, push his fingers inside her and feel her come. It had been years since… No, he couldn’t remember ever wanting a woman this badly.
“I just completed training.”
Moving his hands to the small of her back, he ignored the possessive hunger building within him. He shouldn’t care that her career as a prostitute had not yet begun. It made no difference to him if she’d fucked half the men on this planet. She flinched and whimpered as he paused over an especially deep laceration. He lightened the pressure of his hand but increased the flow of energy.
“What made you decide to join an embassy?” She needed a distraction from the pain, and he needed to think about something other than her soft, supple body.
She scoffed. “Like any of us has a choice. I was cycled out of the training camp three months ago, so it was one of the Atlantic refineries, a breeding lab or one of the embassies. Which would you have chosen?”
“A refinery,” he muttered, using both hands on her back.
“Because ambassadors are whores?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to. Men are so quick to criticize us, but the embassies would go out of business if it weren’t for their customers. There were more men in that room tonight than women. Are you going to try and convince me you’ve never fucked an ambassador?”
He hadn’t, but he didn’t argue. The absence of pain would either unleash a burst of energy or make her sleepy. Judging from her stillness, he’d bet on sleepy. He swept his hands from her shoulders to her waist over and over until the last mark faded from her skin.
She didn’t stir when he stood and walked into the bathroom and only murmured when he wiped the smears of blood from her skin. She was right. He had no reason to label her a whore when he was responsible for her dire circumstances.
Tossing the soiled washcloth into the sink in the bathroom, he washed his hands then scanned open the locked compartment containing his supply of the compound. Each dispenser held seven doses and each person was issued the appropriate number of dispensers to last for three months. The dispensers were small enough to tuck into a pocket or purse, but most chose to keep them safely locked away. The compound was ruthlessly controlled by the Gathosians and no one wanted to endure the interrogation and examinations necessary to have their supply replaced.
He swiped the top of the dispenser with his thumb and a thin square of film rolled out of the tiny slot. Any liquid would dissolve the film, so the compound could be added to a beverage. Most people simply placed it on their tongues and let it dissolve in their mouths.
A slightly spicy flavor crept across Ra’jen’s tongue as the film dissolved. The irony never failed to annoy him. The Gathosians had disguised their chains and shackles as a tiny, pleasant-tasting square of film.
The energy he’d expended to heal Autumn had left him jittery and her body was still working overtime to repair the damage. She might seem relaxed, but without a supplemental dose, withdrawal would doubtlessly claim her before morning. His rank allowed him to cut through most bureaucratic red tape. Even so, he had to be extremely careful when it came to the compound.
With the dispenser clasped in the palm of his hand, he returned to his bed. She’d rolled to her side and drawn one leg up. The position offered him a glimpse of one soft breast and highlighted the sleek line from waist to ankle. Her hair fanned out across his pillow in gleaming auburn waves. He’d encountered so many species during his service to the Gathosians that they had begun to blur. So why did he find this one human so damn fascinating?
He sat on the edge of the bed and ran his knuckle across the crest of her cheek. “Autumn.” She murmured beneath her breath but didn’t open her eyes. He dispensed a square of the film, balancing it on his thumb as he traced her lips with his other hand. “Open your mouth. This will make you feel better.”
Her lips parted and he pressed his thumb against her tongue, waiting until he felt the film dissolve. She made a distressed sound and he quickly withdrew his thumb, not wanting her to wake up enough to bite him.
“What did you…? I taste the compound.” She pushed up with one elbow, her expression tense and suspicious. “Why did you dose me?”
“We both needed a little extra. Healing is hard work.”
He reached down and pulled the sheet up over her delectable body. She was far too tempting and right now she needed rest. “I can occasionally supplement my supply without drawing too much attention. I’m pretty sure you can’t say the same.”
She pressed the sheet to her chest and didn’t argue, but suspicion still shadowed her gaze.
“Get some sleep. I’ll return in an hour or so.” He left without further conversation and headed toward the cluster of offices across from the briefing room. The entire building was unusually quiet which didn’t surprise him. He’d returned two days early and caught his men with their pants down, literally.
It was not that he begrudged them the pleasure, but ambassadors were not allowed on base. The men were supposed to fulfill their needs during their free time and at one of the embassies.
After a perfunctory knock, he pushed open the door to Ethan Dorsey’s office. The guilt in his lieutenant’s dark gaze made it obvious he’d participated in the fuck-fest. “Who made the arrangements and who footed the bill?”
“Beta Team brought in their quota ahead of schedule and under budget.”
“I didn’t ask why. I asked who.”
Ethan leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Ulrick Brant.”
“Bastard. He never misses an opportunity to undermine me.” Without further discussion, Ra’jen left the office and headed for the civilian side of the complex.
* * * * *
A faint beeping drew Autumn back to awareness. She rolled onto her back and sighed. No hint of discomfort remained after her warrior elf healed her. In fact she felt surprisingly rested. With a light tap, she activated the tiny transceiver snuggled in her ear canal. “Autumn here, go ahead.”
“Where are you? Are you all right?” Celinna’s worried tone burned away the last of her lethargy.
“I’m fine, now. Rebecca modified the velvet whip then left me there bound and gagged when everyone took off.”
“I sent the shuttle back for you as soon as the others arrived. He’s still outside the gate. Get your ass out there.”
“I’m not sure I can.” She crawled off the bed and tried the door. “No, it’s locked.”
“Where are you?” she asked again.
Celinna was the head trainer, second only to Madam Belietta. Would they be angry or thrilled with her predicament? There was only one way to find out. “I’m in General Noirte’s quarters.”
“Oh my God. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. He’s been frighteningly civil.”
“Did he fuck you?” Belietta’s sharp voice came across the link. The madam was always direct and focused on the bottom line. Profits.
“Not yet.” She looked around the living area. Everything was neat and organized, but there was no sign of the general.
“Is he with you now?” Celinna asked.
“Obviously not or she wouldn’t be talking to us,” Belietta pointed out with characteristic impatience. “You give him whatever he wants for as long as he wants it. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, but what if he won’t tell me what he wants?” She closed her eyes and fought back the chilling dread that always accompanied thoughts of her first customer. Even as attractive as she found Ra’jen, she wasn’t sure she could fuck him for money. She had no choice. Pleasuring members of the Protectorate ensured her safety and survival. “Who does he usually request? Do you have any idea what he likes?”
“That’s just it,” Belietta muttered. “You’re the only girl he’s ever shown any interest in. His men assure me he’s not gay, but he won’t touch any of the ambassadors.”
“Until now.” Autumn could hear the smile in Celinna’s voice. Celinna had taken a special interest in Autumn, had insisted she had that unique quality that would attract their wealthiest customers. Belietta had reluctantly allowed Autumn to participate in the fuck-fest, but she intended to charge her first real customer an exorbitant fee.
Autumn sat on the edge of the sofa, remembering the feel of Ra’jen’s strong hands running over her body. “He hasn’t actually shown an interest in me. He brought me here to heal me. Rebecca did a real number on my back.”
“We’ll take care of Rebecca,” Celinna assured. “You take care of General Noirte.”
“This is an amazing opportunity,” Belietta stressed. “Do you understand how important this is?”
“Yes, mistress.” What she didn’t understand was what Belietta expected her to do if the general continued to be gallant. She couldn’t make him desire her. Could she?
“You know what happens to those who disappoint me. I would much rather reward you for an astonishing success.”
The connection terminated and Autumn leaned back, shivering as the cool leather pressed against her skin. She understood the inferred threat. Belietta rewarded those who made her lots of money and withheld the compound from those who disappointed her. Without regular doses of the compound, withdrawal was inevitable. Violent cramps and debilitating tremors, then hallucinations and endless bouts of vomiting. No one survived withdrawal. The only variable was how long it took a person to die.
Human chemists had tried to replicate the compound for years, ever since addiction was used to control the workforce. But the compound was synthesized from an alien element that wasn’t found on Earth. Or any of the other planets the Gathosians had pillaged if the rumors were accurate.
Even reluctant members of the Protectorate were addicted to the vile compound. The Gathosians found the strategy so effective they saw no reason to expand their repertoire.
Autumn drew her legs up to her chest and rested her forehead on her knees. She had to think, had to find a way to seduce the most powerful man in the Protectorate. Yeah, no pressure there.
Blatant seduction was too obvious. He’d made his opinion of ambassadors crystal clear. He was a soldier, a warrior elf. The description made her smile. With rebellious strands of his waist-length hair streaming around his shoulders, the title had been even more fitting.
Her imagination grasped the detail and wove it into an incredibly vivid image. She saw herself on his bed, legs spread to accommodate his hips. He entwined their fingers and pinned her hands to the bed as he pushed his cock deep inside her. His hair created a curtain around them, then pooled on their hands, the silky strands caressing her fingers.
The image was certainly tempting, but how did she make it happen?
Chapter Three
Silencing Brant’s attaché with a scathing glare, Ra’jen threw open the office door and strode inside. “If you ever countermand my orders again I will—”
“You’ll what?” Ulrick Brant minimized the holographic image suspended above his desk. “My position is equal to yours, and the Gathosians need us both, so stop snarling at me.”
“That doesn’t excuse your flagrant disregard for my policies.” Like all Valtorians, Brant was a study in contrasts. His hair was rich amber, while his eyes were so dark it was impossible to distinguish between the pupils and irises. He appeared suave and sophisticated in his custom business suit, yet danger rippled beneath the professional façade. When provoked, Valtorians became savage and ruthless.
“You weren’t expected back until Monday.” Brant accentuated the point with a casual shrug, and Ra’jen balled his hands into fists.
“Again, that’s no excuse. My men know ambassadors are not allowed on base. The rules apply whether I’m there to supervise or not.”
“Our men work damn hard and deserved a reward.”
The way Brant stressed the word “our” caused Ra’jen’s hands to clench even tighter. “I do not disagree with the concept. I am frustrated by the execution.”
“Belietta already had a large party booked at the embassy.”
“Then you should have waited for her next available opening.”
“It’s ridiculous for you to be this angry about such a small detail.”
Brant’s lackadaisical attitude often clashed with Ra’jen’s regimented concept of life, but Brant wa
s right about one thing. This argument was pointless. “If the fuck-fest was no big deal, why didn’t you hold it in one of your conference rooms?”
“Did they trash the place and smash the furniture? Why are you so pissed off?”
“I expect my orders to be followed. When the men are on base, they are under my authority. What they do when they are under your command is between them and you.”
“I get it.” He folded his hands on his desktop, looking anything but contrite. “Sorry I stepped on your toes. It won’t happen again.”
Knowing that was as close as they were likely to come to consensus, Ra’jen nodded and left Brant’s office. The Gathosian power structure was ineffective and frustrating, but they didn’t ask his input on how to organize the Protectorate. The civilian division was supposed to balance the aggression of the military division, and the military division was designed to curtail the bureaucracy of the civilians. More often than not, having two equal departments simply created internal conflict and distracted from the ultimate goals.
The night was cool and cloudy. He walked across the greenbelt separating the civilian section of the complex from the military, savoring the brisk breeze on his face. Autumn was waiting for him. Was she still asleep in his bed, or was she pawing through his possessions? She hadn’t been imprinted, so she wouldn’t be able to activate the access terminal.
Security to General Noirte. The com-implant embedded behind his right ear vibrated subtly and then his brain translated the silent signal, recreating the voice inside his mind.
Noirte here, go ahead.
We detected a transmission emanating from your quarters. The content might interest you.
Each time he left his quarters continual surveillance was triggered. Who had the lovely little ambassador contacted? Patch it through.
Copy.
Autumn’s conversation with the women at the embassy played inside his mind. He was annoyed at first, then angered by their cavalier attitude. Unless he’d completely misjudged her, Autumn lacked the deceitful nature of a true seductress. They’d set her up for failure whether they realized it or not.
