Dark Empress: The Onic Empire, Book 5

by Anitra Lynn McLeod

His chest heaved as he dug his fingers and feet hard into the surface of the bed. While still massaging his balls with one hand, she used the back of her fingers from the other to press against the skin below them. Firmly she moved the flat back of her fingers and knuckles in the same circle she made with her mouth. The edge of her pinky knuckle pressed so close to the puckered skin of his bottom he breathlessly awaited full contact.

  Stars exploded in his vision. Every cell in his body vibrated to the tune that she purred. Sensing his impending climax, she held her head steady and sucked him within her mouth. Humming still, she flicked the tip of her tongue up and down the slit as fast as she could, fluttering his now pulsing flesh.

  Errion lowered his fist to his shaft, holding himself firmly for her as she continued to flutter the tip of her tongue over the sensitive skin just below his head. Slipping her hand down, she pressed the knuckle of her pinky against his anus and pushed, making him clench his butt cheeks together.

  He came so violently he literally curled up off the bed, holding on to her shoulder to steady himself as his other hand held his pumping cock to her mouth. Without hesitation, she drank from him, milking him until there was nothing left.

  Flopping back on the bed, he begged her up and into his arms where he clamped his mouth over hers, tasting himself on her. Rolling her over, he plunged his hand between her legs. Her bare sex was dripping wet. She was so aroused that a few well-placed flicks of his thumb brought her to climax and clamped her thighs around his hand. But he wouldn’t stop. Slipping his fingers inside her, he continued flicking his thumb until she came again. And again. When she collapsed on the bed, drained and exhausted from her long night, Errion settled beside her, pulled up the blankets and fell asleep, grateful that for tonight at least, he didn’t have to sleep alone.

  She was gone by morning, but her nocturnal visit had served at least one purpose—he could now feel all of them. Before, they had been too far from one another to touch each other’s minds or share energy. Farjika had changed the bonding yet again. As soon as Errion woke, he felt Lorren, who like Farjika was pushing energy toward Gabriyel. Once Errion felt his plight, he sent his power too. The poor man was freezing in his cell. His jailer kept him bare and without any blankets, a sheet, not even a towel to protect him from the frigid air.

  When Gabriyel resisted their help, Errion told him to stop being a martyr. “I know you’re the big, bad hero, but right now, you need our help. Accept it.”

  Lorren’s laughter rang in his mind. “You never were one to mince words.”

  But what convinced him was Farjika’s simple, “Gabriyel, please.” She managed to infuse her mental voice with the same plaintive appeal she’d used on him as she hung helplessly from the ceiling.

  Reluctantly, Gabriyel gave in. Allowing them to push energy kept him warm and infuriated his jailer. Roland wanted Gabriyel to suffer, but he couldn’t do anything that would leave a mark, not when Drahka had given him specific orders to bring all the prisoners to Diola unharmed.

  All of them could practically hear the man licking his lips for when they landed. Roland would be able to abuse Gabriyel however he saw fit once he got him home. What Roland didn’t know was Farjika was determined to stop him. Errion felt a little bit sorry for the man; he had no idea the wrath that he could unleash by harming Farjika’s hero.

  While this was going on, Errion had bathed and dressed in a tailored suit of hunter green. Per the envoy’s instructions, he was ready and waiting when his door slid open. Several guards surrounded Lorren, who was dressed in brown, his wet hair slicked back, but strands rapidly fell across his brow as they dried. Errion stood for a moment, stunned to realize how handsome Lorren was. He felt as if he were seeing him for the first time.

  With a pointed cough, the envoy compelled Errion forward.

  As they walked down the corridor, Errion whispered, “I have never told you how much I love you.” He glanced at his friend of over twenty turns. “I’ve always known that I do. I just never said so.”

  A smile of satisfaction crossed Lorren’s face. “I knew that day in the study. My father asked me if I was in love with you, and I remember thinking that I probably was.” He clasped his hand. “I know for certain now.”

  Errion stopped walking, pulled Lorren close and kissed him. Not hard and firm as he usually did, but sweetly, softly, their lips pressing lightly together. A new kind of sexual energy passed between them, stronger in many ways, but kinder too.

  Another pointed coughing fit from the envoy separated them, and they resumed walking down the hall.

  Errion glanced down and noticed Lorren’s feet were as bare as his. “Why did they take our shoes?”

  “Gabriyel said it’s so we’ll be disinclined to run away.”

  “Ah.”

  They were quiet after that. Errion felt Gabriyel and Farjika physically growing closer, and he smiled despite the dire circumstances. Connecting to them mentally wasn’t the same as actually being near them. However, even in the cramped skip, the guards kept him and Lorren separated from Gabriyel and Farjika. The trip down to the palace was short. Once they landed, they disembarked. He had a brief glimpse of a snow-shrouded world, blinding him with brightness, and then rough-hewn stone walls engulfed them.

  Ahead of him, Farjika walked with her head held high, her heels tapping against the polished stone floors. At least ten massive guards surrounded her on all sides with Roland taking the lead. Pompous bully. Still, Errion could see she wore a stunning crimson dress that covered her from neck to knee; only her face and calves were bare, which was surprisingly sexier than her being naked would be. In the glittering heels, she looked tall and lanky, but Errion was anticipating the change in her form when the baby began to show.

  Behind him, Lorren and the guards that surrounded them, was Gabriyel. Glancing over his shoulder, Errion decided that Gabriyel managed to look sexier naked than he did with clothing. Even flaccid, his cock was impressive.

  “We are facing a life or death situation and you can’t keep your eyes or mind off his cock?”

  Lorren’s mental voice cracked like a whip in Errion’s brain and brought his attention back to their plodding journey from the roof of the palace to the myriad hallways within.

  “It’s like a labyrinth.” Errion muttered to no one in particular. “And there’s nothing wrong with admiring a man’s cock. You have to admit it’s very nice.”

  “Yes, I’m sure we all agree that Gabriyel’s cock is stunning, but that’s hardly important right now.” Farjika sounded on the verge of hysterical laughter while Gabriyel was surprisingly silent. “They are taking us to The Throne of the Empress.” Farjika explained it was where the three thrones of her parents sat. “It’s where official visits or reprimands take place.”

  Errion didn’t have to see her to feel her apprehension. Farjika was literally shaking in her shoes. Each step pushed her anxiety up another notch. When she stumbled and her hands shot out to steady herself, a guard was there, offering out a burly arm for her. Gratefully she righted herself. He let go, but Errion saw his reluctance.

  “Careful, Farjika, just the scent of you drives men to madness.” Errion kept his attention on her generous bottom and the way it swayed seductively. His pounding heartbeat matched the up-down motion of her cheeks.

  “Then stop talking about Gabriyel’s cock, and I wouldn’t get all wet and clumsy!” She shot a quick glare over her shoulder. “Stop thinking about my bottom too. You’re giving Gabriyel and Lorren erections. The last thing we need is for all three of you to walk in with stiff pricks!”

  Regardless of the serious nature of their journey, all three men chuckled quietly to themselves. Knowledge was power, and knowing that sexual excitement made Farjika clumsy could come in handy.

  “If we ever get out of this mess.” Gabriyel’s seriousness wiped away any lingering mirth.

  Errion turned his mind to mathematical equations that bored him immensely but had the desired effect. All their libidos retur
ned to neutral. Ahead, an enormous arched doorway hung with rich crimson fabric yawned like a massive mouth.

  Errion gulped. His hand shot out and grasped Lorren’s. Sweaty and cold, they clasped their hands tightly together and kept them that way no matter how much the envoy coughed.

  Two tiny brown-eyed, brown-haired servants split the fabric open as if lips parting, and the group of them entered the belly of the beast.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Farjika almost stumbled again as she entered The Throne of the Empress, but she managed to catch herself. All three of her parents sat upon a raised dais at the far end of the circular room. Her mother sat in the grandest throne in the center with her two fathers on lesser thrones at either side. Not a one of them looked happy to see her. In her heart, she had hoped they would greet her with smiles, open arms, grateful forgiveness just to have her returned to them unharmed. What she got instead were faces heavy with disappointment.

  The urge to tell them everything possessed her, but Farjika rejected the idea. If her parents knew about her mystical bonding, they might be compelled to execute Errion and Lorren rather than allow two barsitas to have potential control over the future ruler. They wouldn’t view their mental joining as a wondrous thing; they would view it as a potential threat. The less her parents and the populace knew, the better.

  Bithia looked regal as she always did, her height evident even while seated in her enormous throne. Clad in crimson, as were her fathers, her dress was modest but managed to convey her sensual nature. Her hair was still the darkest black, but because of her original sweltering homeland, she preferred to keep the strands short and spiky. Mismatched eyes tracked Farjika’s progress along the red carpet that ran from the doorway to the dais where she sat.

  When her mother’s gaze beheld the prisoners, Farjika swore she saw one edge of her mouth and one eyebrow quirk upwards. Both faded away so quickly Farjika started to doubt she’d seen them at all. Upon taking a fortifying breath, the rich perfume of hundreds of flowers filled her lungs. All around the room, fresh flowers of red and white filled enormous urns, and between each stood a palace guard. Over forty massive men lined the circular walls of the room. Such a show of force was unnecessary, but she knew this idea was Drahka’s, not Bithia’s.

  Her second father, Viltori, watched her from below his gleaming blond hair. With a start, she realized he was similar in looks to Errion, except Viltori’s eyes were dark brown and Errion’s were green. But in height, weight and build, they were eerily similar. The shock of that notion led her to realize Lorren in some respects was similar to her first father, Drahka.

  Uncomfortable with the comparison, Farjika shook the thoughts away but realized that might have caused her mother’s surprise. She’d inadvertently chosen two men similar, at least in looks, to her fathers. However, that was where the similarities ended. The four men couldn’t be more different in personality, comportment and manner.

  Drahka, her first father, was so big he made the throne he sat upon seem tiny. Fury added years to his features, but he was still a vigorous man. Not a soul in the palace would dare to challenge him. Dark eyes, dark hair and the darkest expression caused all three men behind her to gulp. The idea of dealing with her angry father wasn’t nearly as terrifying as actually seeing the massive man all three of them had infuriated.

  Gabriyel shivered and lowered his head.

  Farjika realized he didn’t wish to offer any kind of challenge to Drahka, fearing that would only anger him more. Even Errion and Lorren bowed their heads respectfully, looking at the trio while keeping their faces tipped toward the floor.

  Roland halted their group and then took three steps forward. He bowed deeply. Bithia gave him leave to speak by tipping her face and lifting the palm of her hand.

  “My great and glorious leaders, I have returned your daughter to you unharmed.” He lifted his hand toward her as if her parents might have forgotten what she looked like. Farjika had an overwhelming urge to make a face behind his greasy back, but that would only confirm her father’s assessment that she was immature, so she slapped a bored expression on her face and stood still.

  “And I have brought the criminals responsible for her unlawful imprisonment and detainment.” Roland lifted his hand to Errion and Lorren, who listened intently to their envoy’s rapid translation attempt. Since he was missing half the words, Farjika mentally conferred what Roland had just accused them of. To her shock, Errion nodded, as if the assessment were correct. Lorren nudged him hard, making him realize what he’d just done. Errion immediately shook his head back and forth in a negative motion. She should have cautioned them to remain impassive no matter what happened. She told them now, but the damage had already been done.

  Farjika’s gaze swept up toward Drahka, whose eyes narrowed while his nostrils flared. Fingertips went white as he dug them into the armrests of his throne. Farjika thought that at any second he would launch himself across the room and devour Lorren and Errion with his fury. They caught her thoughts. Rather than holding hands, they now clung so tightly to one another she feared they’d break bones if they didn’t relax.

  Roland snapped his fingers, compelling the guards to bring Gabriyel forth. Once he was near, Roland grabbed him by his neck and shoved him to his knees. Farjika winced when they hit with a crack despite the thick crimson carpet. His pain shot up her legs, causing her to lurch on her heels, while Errion and Lorren emitted empathetic grunts. All three of her parents noticed this curious reaction. Bafflement ate away at glowering disappointment.

  Oblivious to everything but his own self-perceived moment of glory, Roland cupped the back of Gabriyel’s head and forced him to look up. Gabriyel did not resist, but he kept his gaze lowered respectfully. Staring directly into the eyes of any of her parents would be perceived as a threat. With a flick of his finger, Drahka could have him executed on the spot. Knowing this, Roland toyed with Gabriyel. Through her connection with Gabriyel, Farjika knew the last thing Roland wanted was Gabriyel’s immediate execution. In order for Roland to commit the perversities he had in mind against Gabriyel, he needed privacy. Roland wanted Gabriyel confined and left in his care. But that wasn’t going to stop him from humiliating him before her, her parents and a good portion of the royal guards.

  “And lastly, I have returned the disgraced captain of her guard, who has been stripped of all rank for gross dereliction of duty and the violation of her physical person.”

  Farjika’s heart thumped hard in her ears, almost drowning out the sound of Roland’s smug voice. Publicly, he accused only Gabriyel of defiling her. This was how Lorren and Errion would be returned to their holdings within a season. Their lesser crimes of abducting and detaining her wouldn’t carry the same punishment as the accusation placed on Gabriyel.

  “Wait,” Errion said, picking up on her thoughts. “Only Gabriyel will face execution for violating you?”

  “Yes,” Farjika answered. “For facilitating this crime, you and Lorren have to be punished, but you won’t face anything severe.”

  “What if we told them about our bond?”

  Farjika said no so loudly into his mind, Errion cringed.

  “I’m sorry,” she soothed. “But keeping the secret of our mental bonding is even more important now. Should anyone other than our group know, you would all become targets.”

  “Targets?” Lorren asked.

  “There would be those who would want to kill you as potential threats.”

  “But why?”

  “Imagine their reaction to three men having mental control over the future empress.”

  “But we don’t have that kind of power over you,” Errion pointed out.

  “How far do you think you’d get in explaining that?”

  Once the implications sank in, Errion, Lorren and Gabriyel all agreed to keep quiet.

  Roland pinched the back of Gabriyel’s neck between calloused fingers, clearly hoping he would cry out, thus revealing his weakness. Against her neck, Farjika fel
t those gripping fingertips digging into her flesh until she could stand no more.

  “Stop!”

  All the guards in the room startled, staring at her, stunned that she of all people would cry out when she knew protocol dictated none should speak until Bithia granted them her leave.

  Ignoring the looks of everyone in the room, Farjika marched up to Roland. “Let go of him.”

  Roland studiously ignored her while he continued to clamp his fingers around the back of Gabriyel’s neck.

  White-hot energy built in her body. Fury unlike anything she’d ever known gathered, shaking her, until she knew he would not stop until Gabriyel bawled like a child. In an instant, she saw the past, of who this man was to Gabriyel and how he’d held him down and tormented him until he cried and begged for surcease. Without even realizing her intention, Farjika flung her hand up and pushed with all her might against Roland’s chest.

  Roland flew across the room as if an invisible hand had yanked him. He plowed headfirst into one of the flower-filled urns. An explosion of red and white petals puffed up into the air, then floated gracefully around him. Rolling over and sitting up, Roland clutched his bleeding head, stunned and shaken by what she’d done.

  Ignoring him and everyone else, Farjika dropped to her knees before Gabriyel. Cupping his head into her hand, she kissed his forehead as tears slipped down her cheeks. Roland’s pinch had hurt him far more than he let on, but in the end, he’d been unable to stop the pain from leaching out to the three of them.

  “Do not kneel before me, Farjika. Your father has been pushed as far as a man can bear.” Gabriyel lowered his head, refusing to meet her gaze or accept her kiss.

  “He cannot dictate my heart.”

  All around her, she felt the guards moving in, but after what she’d done to Roland, none of them was willing to touch her or Gabriyel.

  “I love you.”

  Gasps of shock filled the room at her pronouncement.

  “Don’t throw your life away on me.”