Twin high marks of red shame bloomed on her cheeks as she struggled to cover herself with her ruined dress.
“I would have joined you, but I didn’t think you were quite ready for that yet, what with your obvious issues with your mother.”
Tears gathered at the edges of her eyes, and she blinked rapidly to keep them at bay. She was unsuccessful. One small drop rolled down her cheek, sparkling in the bright light, breaking what little heart Errion still had. Realizing that he’d gone way too far in his effort to drive her away from Lorren, he tried to take what he’d said back, but it was too late. He wanted to anger her, to hurt her, even, but not this. Embarrassed by his brutal cruelty, Errion stepped close to the stage as if to comfort her. Too late, he realized that by attacking her, he’d only entrenched Lorren in the position of her protector.
Lorren dropped to his knees and leaned over the stage. He grasped the edges of his robe, and yanked him up to the edge of the platform. “You worthless fuck! Why would you do this?” Rage gave Lorren strength, and he shook Errion, bashing him bodily into the decorative molding along the edge of the stage. For the first time, Errion felt genuine fear. Lorren’s fists dug into his robe with the strength of ten men. Had he put them around his neck, Errion thought he’d be dead by now. Desperate to extricate himself, he realized struggling was futile.
Farjika gave him escape when he saw her clutching her ruined dress as she ran off the stage.
“Looks like your maiden fair is getting away.” Errion flicked his chin toward her retreating back.
Lorren released him with a shove, shot to his feet and then ran after Farjika.
Straightening his robe with as much dignity as he could muster, Errion left the orchestral pit and padded up to the lighting booth. He removed the memory card from the central unit and shut everything down. A dozen cameras placed around the stage had recorded Farjika’s display. Errion had a feeling the images would come in handy.
Chapter Nine
Blinded by tears of humiliation, Farjika had one hand gripped around the edges of her ruined dress and the other flung out, palm open, to stop her from smashing into things as she ran through the manor. Sadly, she had no idea where she was going. She was lost as all the artwork and wainscoting blurred in her memory into one endless hallway. All she knew was she had to get away from Lorren and Errion and whatever cruel game they played.
What had possessed her?
She’d come here tonight expecting a gentle seduction with wine and sinfully soft bedding. What she’d gotten instead was some power game that trapped her between two dominant men. Farjika had no idea what Errion’s motive had been earlier in the parlor. She’d thought he’d been toying with her, trying to keep her away from Lorren, but when he grasped her wrists, her body had come alive. Every sense heightened. Playing at captive and captor was intoxicating, but only as a game. Submitting herself beyond the confines of a tryst was not in her nature. He’d stopped all forward behavior when Lorren had arrived—that was, until they’d finished dinner. Planting his foot between her legs was an aggressive way of marking his territory. He’d done it almost as if he wanted Lorren to discover him there.
And then Lorren. He’d been what she thought she wanted, a gentleman who treated her like the empress she would one day be. His hand on her thigh during their meal was subtle and sexy, a tease designed to delight her, not demand from her. His reticence caused her to throw herself at him in an attempt to rid Errion from her mind, yet somehow her seduction attempt ended in her submitting to Lorren in the way she wanted to surrender to Errion.
Standing on that stage, imagining what Lorren suggested, had aroused her beyond her wildest fantasies. She on display to a hundred hungry men. In her mind’s eye, she had seen them with their pants parted, cocks in hand, stroking as they watched his finger slide between her legs. Power filled her that she could command that kind of attention and bestow that kind of pleasure without actually touching them.
Her steps slowed as she realized there had been only one man, doing exactly what she just imagined. It shouldn’t bother her, but it did. Letting Errion watch without her knowledge was wrong because Lorren knew, and he should have told her. Gods help her, she was so aroused she probably would have willingly let Errion stay. She might have gotten another new level of pleasure out of knowing he watched. Thing was, the choice should have been hers. That’s what she couldn’t forgive; she’d had no say in the matter.
Her steps slowed further as she thought that she had given Lorren control. In fact, he’d gone out of his way to make sure she understood that giving him control was no game. He insisted she understand that this wasn’t a silly fantasy where she called him master and submitted to sexy acts designed to pleasure him. Lorren had her pick a safety word to stop him if he went too far, but wasn’t having an unseen observer a betrayal? How could she have said her secret word if she didn’t know what was happening?
“Like it matters!” The encounter was over now and would never happen again. To him, her surrender was clearly a game. He and Errion battled for the prize of her capitulation. She wondered what Lorren would win for actually getting her to be complicit in her own submission.
Confused by the conflicts within, she ran blindly away. What she needed was time to think. If she could get to Gabriyel, he would whisk her back to the safety of her skip. Since her business with Avalith was complete, she had no reason to stay. Like she always told herself, there was one benefit to her intergalactic mission—should ever she make a mistake, all she had to do was fly away. Abandoning everything was exactly what she had in mind.
She stopped for a moment to wipe her eyes clear. Where was she? Their manor house was an imposing structure from outside, but she had no idea how massive the place really was until she was inside. She felt like she’d been running for hours. Casting her gaze behind, she didn’t see either man following, so she took stock of her surroundings. An odd light glowed at the end of the hallway. Cautiously, she approached and discovered the hallway opened into a huge circular room with a glass floor. As she stepped into the room and looked below, she saw a stunning tile mosaic below a layer of blue water. A pool? She shook her head. Why would they have a glass ceiling above a pool?
“It’s one-way glass.”
Spinning at the sound of the voice, Farjika stiffened when Errion stood there smiling. At least he’d closed his robe.
“We can see down. They can’t see up,” he said, glancing through the floor. “When visitors swim, some can become…amorous. It amuses me to watch.” His eyes met hers. “I like to watch.”
Her lip curled. She swore violently at him, calling him every degrading name she could think of and a few she’d just made up. For a good long time she spewed out all her anger and frustration, blaming him for things that truly weren’t even his fault. By the time she’d reached the end, she was shaking uncontrollably and on the verge of tears.
Errion listened patiently, his face calm, his posture falsely contrite. He stood like a little boy caught, one willing to take his punishment, but the look in his roguish gaze said he’d simply do what he’d done again. The only thing he was sorry for was being caught. However, in this instance, he’d allowed himself to be caught. He wanted to be caught. When she wondered why, the only answer was that he wanted to rub his observation of her in her face. What kind of man took pleasure in harming another person, especially someone who had never done him wrong?
“I have no idea what you just said, but I imagine you weren’t highlighting the more stellar aspects of my character.”
Farjika had automatically spoken in her native tongue, as she didn’t know any vulgar terms in his language. Not that it mattered. She didn’t have to speak at all for him to know exactly how she felt about him. One thing people had always said about her—she had an extremely expressive face.
“I wish to leave. Now.” Injecting every drop of imperious entitlement into her voice, as she was the product of generations of warrior women, Farjika stood as ta
ll and proud as she could. She projected the attitude of a royal addressing a servant.
With an exaggerated frown, Errion shook his head side to side. “I don’t want you to go.” His lips pursed up into a pout, like a child afraid of separation.
Her eyes tried to pop out of her head. How dare he speak to her like this? Farjika had never been so enraged by anyone in her life. Another verbal thrashing hung on her lips but she bit it off, knowing that chastising him would be a waste of breath. Worse, he’d rejoice that he’d reduced her to such a state. Drawing in a calming breath, Farjika met his gaze directly.
“I am done with you and your…friend.” Snuggling the ripped remains of her dress tighter, she added, “If I am not returned to my skip, I will file a formal complaint with your government. I imagine a charge of abduction and false imprisonment of the future ruler of peaceful planet would not bode well for your business.”
“It would cripple our business.” His eyes went wide, and he seemed genuinely afraid of what she could do.
Finally, she’d gotten through to the man.
Errion dramatically slapped his hand to his chest as if she’d just mortally wounded him, and she realized this was just another joke to him.
“Oh, wait, we trade in pleasure upgrades. Detaining you for the purpose of pleasure might actually increase sales.” He lowered his head, letting his blond hair partially obscure his gaze. “Either way, I’m willing to spend whatever it takes to find out.”
For everything she said, he had an answer. Dealing with him was like dancing with a partner who was always several steps ahead of her. Each time she twirled desperately to catch up, he simply left her behind.
“What do you want from me?” Perhaps a direct approach would work since nothing else seemed to. She almost asked him where Lorren was, but she wouldn’t believe him no matter what he said. For all she knew, Lorren was below, looking up, watching them. Just because Errion said it was one-way glass didn’t mean he was telling the truth. So far, just about everything that came out of his mouth he twisted somehow. Talking with Errion was like dealing with Arkvesta, the many-faced goddess of pranks.
“So, you’re willing to negotiate?” Errion leaned against the edge of the hallway opening, blocking her exit.
“Negotiate what?”
“The terms of your surrender.”
She stood shoeless in a ruined dress, both men had seen her stripped bare, one had been within her depths—what more was there to give? Farjika opened her mouth to ask but thought better of it. There was so much more that they could demand from her. So far, Errion had only lightly touched her person. Mostly he’d watched. He could demand all kind of perverse acts from her. Then, to her absolute shock, the thought of Errion forcing her to do things against her will awakened a dark hunger within. Her body grew taut, her breath short, and her cunt grew grasping and wet. What had they done to her? She looked away, trying to gather her thoughts and shove a good portion of them away, but once they’d gained a hold in her mind, they refused to go.
Unsure, she looked up. Twinkling eyes met hers. She swallowed. “I’m not negotiating with you. I want to go.” But did she really? Errion was the most irritatingly self-assured man she’d ever met, but there was some indefinable something about him that was so alluring too. Unwilling to blame this sickness on herself, she speculated that something in their food or drink or maybe even the air on Avalith had damaged her brain.
“I think you will negotiate.” From the pocket of his dark green robe, he removed a sleek object, like a tiny card of plastic. He held it up and got the same reaction he’d gotten from her earlier.
“Why do you keep showing me things that I don’t recognize?” Huffing an annoyed sigh, Farjika longed to put her hands on her hips but didn’t want her dress sliding to the floor. Instead, she tossed her head and rolled her eyes.
Growling, his dramatic reveal clearly lost, Errion held the card between two of his long, tanned fingers. “It’s a memory card.”
Farjika sighed. “Show it to him. Lorren already knows about my mother—”
“It’s not your mother.” His smile widened. “It’s you.”
Fear wrapped around her heart and squeezed so hard she thought the floor beneath her feet had given way and she was plummeting toward the pool. Unfortunately, she wasn’t that lucky. Shock locked her knees, forcing her to stay upright on the floor that was as solid as the smirk on Errion’s face.
“You were so spectacular on that stage.”
All the blood drained from her as the reality of what he’d done hit.
“That’s right, my lovely one.” Errion entered the room now, like a huge beast circling in for the kill. “Every moment of what you did with Lorren was recorded. From several angles. All I need to do is edit the images down.” He hesitated, frowning. “I’m not sure what to title the piece. Surrender of the Empress? Exhibition Empress?” He tapped the card in his hand speculatively. “Well, I’m sure I’ll come up with something by the time I take it to market.”
How could something so small cause so much potential damage? It was as if he’d found her worst fear and materialized it right before her eyes. Speechless, she watched him. Slinking in his shimmering robe, he stalked around her in a wide circle. When he came near, she lunged for the memory card.
With a laugh, he yanked it out of her reach. “As if this were the only copy.”
She thought it might be. He hadn’t had time to copy it and follow her. And where was Lorren? If Errion was able to find her, then why couldn’t Lorren? Not that she believed he’d actually help her. He’d probably join Errion in his taunting. Her eyes widened. Gods knew what the two of them would make her do. What was wrong with her that the idea of being at their mercy was exciting? Had her determination not to become her mother actually fostered a deep-seated desire to entangle herself with two men? Not that her fathers were like these two. Drahka and Viltori would never have treated her mother this way, mainly because Bithia wouldn’t have allowed it. However, Bithia had been the empress at the time of their courtship. Farjika was a diplomat on a mission of mercy to a foreign land. Even if they held her prisoner, there wasn’t a lot Diola could do. Shaming them in the forum of intergalactic opinion didn’t seem to phase Errion one bit, and he was correct that such stories would only foster interest in their products.
Errion slipped the item into his pocket. “Now, we don’t have a lot of time, so here’s what I want.” Maneuvering himself behind her, he grasped her chin, turning her head just a bit. Smartly, he’d put the object in the farthest pocket from her one free hand; she wasn’t going to be able to reach around and grab it. “I want you to stay here.” His breath was hot on her neck and shoulder, smelling faintly of dark wine and luscious treats. “You are going to help me restore Lorren to the man he was destined to be.”
Farjika had no idea what he was talking about, and she said so.
With a long, slow sigh that ruffled her hair, tickling it against her back, Errion traced his hand from her chin to her neck, then down to her hand clasped so tightly around her ripped dress. “On that stage tonight, Lorren lost his nerve.”
“I hardly think so.” He’d shown plenty of nerve as far as she was concerned.
Coming around until he faced her, Errion traced his finger along her lips. “Lorren couldn’t bear to force you to suck his cock.” Her gaze traveled unerringly down to Errion’s cock that pressed obscenely against his robe. He followed her gaze, then looked back into her eyes. Leaning close, he whispered, “Had it been me on that stage, I would have forced you to suck my cock until I climaxed.” He considered her lips, then let his gaze linger over her breasts. “My only debate would have been whether to come in your mouth or on your spectacular tits.”
Farjika’s mouth dropped open at the ease with which he spoke such vulgarity. Perversion rolled out of his mind and off his tongue as if that was all he’d ever said.
Errion leaned in until his mouth was very close to hers. She felt his hand sliding d
own her torso, then to the cleft between her legs. She didn’t want to, but she uttered a startled gasp when he slid his finger down the silky material of her dress, smoothing the fabric against her throbbing clit.
“There is no point in denying the truth, Farjika. What I’m saying excites you.”
“I hate you.”
He laughed gently. “That may be, but you still find my words extremely arousing.” Rubbing his lips against hers as he softly fingered her clit, he said, “Imagine me in charge of you, ordering you to do my bidding.”
She shook her head even as the visions formed in her mind. Errion standing tall above her, telling her how to suck his cock, his hand spanning the surface of the back of her head, holding her, molding her to do his lustful commands. Her mouth wetly wrapped around him, her tongue working in a desperate bid to please him, to satisfy him. In her vision, when she looked up, his eyes were twin green fires, harsh and demanding until he closed them as he climaxed, gushing his pleasure down her throat. All the while, as her imagination ran away with her, Errion continued to rub her clit, feeding her words that in turned fueled her visions.
“I’m going to use you in every way I can think of, and Lorren is going to help me.” Errion pressed a little harder, making her whimper as he kept her right on the edge of climax. “Lorren will remember his dominating side through you.”
“You want Lorren to abuse me?” She could not imagine Lorren treating her the way Errion suggested.
Errion’s chuckle was soft and mocking. “Abuse? No. I want him to dominate you. To control you. To remember how good we were together.”
Farjika’s mind raced. “This is about your relationship with him?”
Peering right into her eyes, Errion rubbed so hard and fast she tried to lurch away, but he anticipated her movement. Up his other hand came around her back, forcing her to stand still for his thrusts. “Come for me, Farjika. Show me exactly what kind of a woman you really are.”
Dark Empress: The Onic Empire, Book 5 Page 9
