He does not like that I leave. Why?
“Of course, take your time. We will be here.”
{Steffania, when we start to walk away, linger behind and tell me what Narr does.}
Ramsey helped Pansy to her feet and ushered her toward the entrance of the great hall.
{Narr stopped a guard and is speaking to him. They are glancing at you. Now the guard is leaving—in a hurry.}
Ram shot a speaking glance over his shoulder at Steffania. {We need to get back to our rooms, quickly. I have a bad feeling.}
Not consumed by the same sense of urgency as the three he escorted, Hoyle led them back at a methodical, unhurried pace that shredded Ram’s temper. Two steps into the room, Ram knew their room and bags had been “tossed”. Whoever had been here had done a hasty search, most likely recalled before they’d been able to place the cases and other items back as they were. His Razor 88K, left carelessly on the bed, now rested on a low chest at its foot. Steffania knelt by the disordered pile of black cases that held their hi-tech apparatus.
{The atmospheric conduction relay and low-band interaction jammer are gone.} Her voice emerged void of emotion.
{What the fuck does that mean?} Ramsey cursed his ignorance. Shit, he was the wrong man to have sent on this mission but he rejected the idea of failure. He wanted that pardon.
Her eyes held his for long moments before she spoke. {We can’t communicate with DeTano.}
Chapter Fifteen
Ramsey watched Steffania twist and untwist a lock of her hair around one finger as she paced the room. “We have no choice but to hack into Veacon Narr’s communications web to contact DeTano, but that is not going to be easy.” She paused in her pacing, braced her hands on her hips and shook her head.
The concern in her voice paralleled his feelings. By now, even Ramsey conceded they needed help. He and Steffania had included Pansy in their conversation. By now, the petite slaaf knew their presence on Vxloncia had nothing to do with winning the Dominion Games and Pansy had demonstrated her loyalty. Steffania had argued persuasively in favor of using the woman to assist them, and Pansy proved to be more knowledgeable than they had guessed. It was a good thing. He knew fuck-all about communications and Steffania needed all the help she could get.
He sprawled recklessly in a chair, legs outstretched, arms hung over the armrests. His heel worked a rapid rhythm inches from the floor as he bounced the ball of his foot. “The two of you get some rest. We’ll re-examine this in the morning. We need to find Alessa DeAlbero and escape this shit-hole.” He released a tired sigh then stood. “I will speak to Tok then I’ll be back.” His glance examined the expansive platform bed decked in pristine white dominating the suite – the only bed. “Leave me some room.”
“Dominus, I will sleep on the…” Pansy’s voice faltered at his cold stare and she dropped her head.
“Just leave me some room,” he said.
Pansy exchanged looks with Steffania.
“What?” he snapped
“You are considerate, Dominus.” A shy smiled lifted the corners of Pansy’s mouth and she shrugged. “That’s all.”
“Chances are I am going to get you killed. What’s considerate about that?” Ram turned on his heel and left.
~ ~ ~
Ram and Tok found an unused corner in the banquet hall for a moment of private conversation. Backs to the wall, they stood shoulder-to-shoulder, facing the room.
“I owe you for ‘inviting’ me here.” Ram raised a cup of some potent liquid to his mouth—the vapor singed the inside of his nostrils—and took a scant swallow. Only the Mother knew what was in it and he had no intention of compromising his faculties.
The behemoth grunted in answer. “I need your help. I’m to investigate something called ‘the quiet room’. We had an agent placed deep undercover as a technician.
GAPS hasn’t heard from him in over a week. I can’t find any trace of the man. I think he’s dead.”
Ramsey spat an obscenity under his breath, and filled Tok in on the Verdantians’ discoveries about Narr’s activities. “I have mapped the layout of possible access routes. Come to my rooms tomorrow morning. I’ll show them to you. I need something from you as well.”
Tok grunted his agreement.
“Get a message to the League. I want a time and rendezvous point to get us and Alessa DeAlbero off-planet. Steffania and Pansy –” Ramsey bit off the remainder of his thought at the approach of a uniformed attendant. When Tok made to speak, Ramsey warned the Khlossian off with his eyes.
“Dominus DeKieran?” A servant in the severely tailored attire of the Bromian delegation bowed low before Ram and proffered a silver salver with a small transparent blue cube rotating an inch or so above its surface. Right. What the fuck?
Ram eyed the servant as he addressed Tok in a curt undertone. “What in the seven hells do I do with that?”
The Khlossian grinned. “Ignorant Verdantian. Pick up the cube and hold it on your open hand. It is a personal 3-D vidcast. Your body heat activates it.”
Ram exhaled with an aggravated snort – it seemed his mission in life was to amuse the Khlossian – but he picked up the blue cube and held it flat on his out-stretched palm. He suppressed his start when a three-dimensional miniature of the Bromian ambassador flickered into visibility replacing the floating cube. Ram could feel slight impressions where the ambassador’s feet stood. Then the figure spoke.
“Greetings to our Verdantian brother. Allow me to express my delight in the display of your physical prowess in the Dominion Games and congratulate you on your high placement.” The figure bowed with a grandiose flourish. With the sweep of the ambassador’s garment, it felt as if a feather stroked Ram’s palm, and the barely-perceptible weight shifted on his palm. Shit. This is unnatural. Ramsey extended his arm to its fullest. The Khlossian quaked with silent laughter.
The small figure of the ambassador continued. “I confess to a fascination and enthrallment with your artistic use of colored bindings in sexual domination of the female of your species. We on Bromia take pride in our integration of the best cultural aspects of alien societies and this practice of your culture has captured my interest. Some of my fellow delegates have expressed an equal curiosity. I would be immensely gratified if you would provide a public demonstration of your techniques so I and the delegates from neighboring planets might take the knowledge of this unusual art form home.”
The fuck you say! Ram jerked his hand away and the three dimensional figure winked out, leaving once more a small blue cube which fell to the floor. With a choked cry, the attendant collapsed to his knees and with great care, slid the cube onto the silver tray.
Ram brought the Bromian attendant’s face up to meet his gaze with the toe of his boot. “How does the Bromian representative know of the téad de ghrásta?”
“The vid-casts, Dominus. You are wildly popular, both you and your female with the fire-colored hair. Your private stream during the Games sold for three times that of the other contestants.
Ramsey faced the Khlossian with a feeling of unease. “Tok, explain.”
“Narr offers an exclusive, live-stream vid-cast of the ‘gladiators’ bedrooms to visiting elites. He charges them through the ass.” Tok’s eyes filled with impious mischief. “You do more than fight well.” The Khlossian studied him. “You cannot pretend surprise you were watched, Verdantian. I know you’re not that stupid.”
“I knew about the surveillance. I didn’t know Narr live-streamed a sex vid.”
Tok’s deep laugh vibrated in Ram’s chest. “You didn’t read sub-paragraph 10, section 2.5, in the application for entry? The Games’ organizers will make a fortune distributing the Savage Sexual Practices of Primal Males—Dominion Games XIV Edition.”
Ram seethed. No, he hadn’t read the fine print. He hadn’t even seen the gods-be-damned entry form. Nice of DeTano to warn me. Ram rolled his head and shrugged his shoulders to dispel the building tension. His brows lowered in thought.
If he and Steffania were that popular, perhaps others would want to watch his téad de ghrásta demo. His demonstration would provide an excellent distraction for Tok to establish a communications link with the League. Narr’s actions indicated a watchful distrust of Ramsey. He would bet money Narr would attend the téad de ghrásta demonstration – if for no other reason than to keep an eye on him. Deciding in that instant, Ram addressed the attendant.
“I’ll agree to a demonstration. Tell your master I’ll do it at 900 NT Solar. Where?”
The Bromian held the silver tray—with the once-more floating cube—and rose, gazing warily at the Verdantian. “His Excellence, Ambassador Kurnic, indicated that Dominus Narr has placed the Azure Patio on the eastern side of the main residence at your disposal.”
Ram watched the Bromian attendant glide off and took another sip of his drink. “Tomorrow, during the demonstration, will be a perfect time to signal the League. Arrange a pick-up-point within the grounds and a time window. We’ll find DeAlbero, get your ‘quiet room’ evidence and get the hell out of here.” Ram raised the beverage to his lips once again.
Tok grunted his agreement. “Yes, though I’ll be sorry to miss your demonstration.”
Ramsey cut his eyes to the Khlossian long enough to see his teasing leer.
Chapter Sixteen
To Ram, it seemed he had no more wrapped himself around Steffania than Pansy was shaking them both with the news that the Khlossian was at the door.
“Tell him to go away and come back in the morning.” Ram nuzzled further into Steffania’s fragrant hair. In response, she wiggled her buttocks into his groin and pulled his arm tighter around her breasts.
“I’m sorry, Dominus. It is morning.”
“No. You lie.”
“I’m sorry, Dominus. But it’s not a lie.”
Ram flopped to his back with a groan of protest. “Let him in.”
He lay there, trying to convince his body to move. Ram couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a full night’s rest. Of course, he admitted, some of that sleep loss had been self-induced – not a waste of time, mind you – just self-induced. He would never exchange those nights with Steffania for mere sleep.
“Are all Verdantians as lazy as you?”
Ramsey cracked an eyelid. “Not lazy. It’s the vision of your revolting face first thing in the morning. You’re like that old-Earth creature, the one with the snakes on her head. So ugly one sight turned men to stone.”
Tok filled the room with his rumbling laughter. “Sounds like a beautiful maiden to me. You must be at the Azure Patio in an hour, so it’s best you rise, stone or not.”
Steffania pushed herself up onto her elbows and through disordered clouds of red hair – gods I love that hair – regarded Tok. “What happens at the Azure Patio at,” she shook her hair out of her face and peered at the ornate time-keeper on the bedside table, “nine o’clock?”
Tok rumbled into more laughter. “Ah, Verdantian. You didn’t share the news with your woman?”
“Ramsey...what news? What happens at nine o’clock?” Steffania poked his ribs.
He glared at Tok. “Thanks, friend.”
Tok shrugged with a grin.
“I demonstrate téad de ghrásta to the Bromian delegation and whoever else wants to attend.” {Meanwhile, Tok is going to try to contact the League.} Ram returned Steffania’s steady regard.
“And who is going to be your subject?”
“You.”
“Ramsey...I...I…” Steffania took a long steadying breath. “That is an intensely private thing. I can’t be put on public display.”
“It’s a little late for that.” Ram would have murdered DeTano on the spot had he been there. “You didn’t read paragraph ten, section 2.5 either, did you?”
“What does that mean? Paragraph ten of what?”
“Never mind. Get up. Wear your hair off your neck. Don’t forget to wear your jewels.” He eyed the other woman in the room. “Pansy, stay with Tok. I’m not sure how long this will take, but we’ll meet you back here at, say, one?”
Tok nodded his agreement.
~ ~ ~
Steffania followed Ram and the gray-man, Eagan, through what seemed miles of hallway to the Azure Patio. She couldn’t say how long it had taken them or how they had gotten there. She floated in a hiatus of mind-numbing disbelief. This is not happening. She followed blindly and face-planted into the back of Ramsey when he stopped. The Azure Patio. As her eyes wandered, she could see where the name “azure” came from.
Flowing patterns, reminiscent of clouds or ripples of water, in all shades of blue stones – some precious – interlocked the courtyard tiles. The columns holding up the latticed roof were inlaid with some sparkling blue material – even the vines of blossoms, draping the lattice and perfuming the air with a subtle sweetness, carried a tint of blue.
Every time reality threatened to break her fragile peace into a thousand jagged shards, she retreated further into disavowal of what was to come. Ram shouldered his way through bodies, her hand firmly held in his, and pulled her into an open space. Murmurs of “barbaric Verdantian,” and “unusual sex practices,” alighted on her ears. Their meaning registered only in passing. This is not happening. But as Ramsey’s firm hands positioned her in the center of the open-air courtyard, the hundreds of eyes that dissected her opened a gaping fissure in the fragile shell of her denial. This was happening. No!
She turned to bolt.
Ramsey flattened her forcibly against the hard planes of his chest and tucked her head into his shoulder. {Stop. Now. Listen to me. Steffania, listen.}
She struggled in his hold.
He jerked her even harder into his length.
Her muscles twitched, longing to tear away and run, but his immensely strong arm banded her waist and snugged her to him in an inescapable embrace. The other arm crossed over her back and his big hand cradled her head into the crook of his neck.
{Don’t fight me, Steffania. Stop.}
{Ramsey! I can’t...I can’t . . .}
“Easy, vixen. Listen to me. Listen; concentrate on me – only me.”
The deep bass of his voice soothed enough of her panic that she could nod.
“You can do this, Steffania.” {Tok needs this diversion. We need this diversion.}
{No, Ramsey. Not in public. Not bound with alien eyes observing, speculating. Oh, gods, no! I can’t.} She tried to push away from him but his arms restrained her like iron bands.
{You can. Ignore them. Block them out. They don’t matter. You do this for me, vixen – only me. Only me.} His deep voice whispered those two words over and over in her head until she stopped straining to flee.
She wondered miserably if perhaps with a blindfold – and Ram’s voice? She gradually relaxed in his arms and laid her cheek on his shoulder. “Will you cover my eyes?”
“If you need it.”
{You must talk to me. I...ah...I need to hear your voice.}
He tilted her face to his. His gaze caught hers and he leaned down to kiss her, his mouth warm and gentle on her lips – a kiss of reassurance – not lust.
“Vixen, before this is over, you’ll be telling me to shut the fuck up.” His teasing murmur against her lips pulled a hesitant smile from her. She stepped back as he released her. Holding her eyes with his, he whispered, “Trust me, Steffania. This is only you – only me. No one else is even here. We are alone.”
She swallowed and offered him a jerky smile. “Okay. Just you, right?”
He nodded. “Yes, vixen. Only me.”
His eyes held hers as she took a deep, ragged breath and slowly exhaled. “I’m ready, Dominus.”
A brilliant smile flashed across his face and she was suddenly, desperately, glad she’d been able to hold it together. She would do this – for him.
Steffania didn’t know how Ramsey worked his otherworldly power. He must have used some arcane sorcery. Her world collapsed and coalesced until it held only the rush of the rop
es’ sensual constriction heating her to white-hot arousal and the penetrating, crystal-gray gaze of Ramsey blazing into her psyche. She thanked the gods he hadn’t blindfolded her. She consumed the flame of passionate awe living in his eyes as if it were her soul’s food and drink.
Nothing existed for her outside of the brush of his hands as he wound her in the exquisiteness of the intricately interlaced rope. Nothing existed for her beyond the continual caress of his hushed words of praise and murmurs of profound desire. He never moved so far from her that she could not feel the heat of his body, for when he stripped her, he had stripped himself to only his synth-leather pants. He radiated warmth like a sun to her moon.
Amazing twists, wraps and diamonds of red and black rope decorated and bound each leg separately – and then up her lower torso. With every constricting bite of cord around her flesh, endorphins induced a languid dissolve of tense muscle and stroked her arousal into bright coals of ardor.
{Only me, vixen.}
Ram pulled a black cord snug around her thigh and his fingers lingered for a moment.
{Only you, Dominus.}
By the time Ramsey had reached the juncture of her thighs, her arousal glistened on the once bright thatch of flame hair, now dark with her moisture.
{Yield – for me, vixen.}
{Yes.}
As Ram crafted his intricate artwork across her abdomen, he paused for a moment and sank to his knees, gently nuzzling between her legs. She felt the warm fondle of his tongue swirl around and around her swollen pearl and it was all she could do not to melt to the floor and beg him to take her. He groaned, barely audible. She felt it more than heard it.
{Your passion, your surrender...it slays me. My cock is a gods-be-damned iron spike. Hell’s breath, Steffania.}
With a checked grunt, he stood again and resumed his careful work. His eyes returned to hold hers and she lost herself in their living intensity, in their compelling message of a desperate desire restrained. He did not pause again until a beautifully interwoven corset stretched up her ribs to support her full breasts.
Hers To Cherish (Verdantia Book 3) Page 16
