The Pleasure Slave

by Gena Showalter

  "Aye," she probed. "Tell me." Her nails scraped into his chest. "Tell me who you love. I have waited an entire lifetime to hear you utter these words."

  "I...love...Julia."

  Three words that he had once thought impossible to utter. Three simple words that were suddenly more real and emotion filled than any he had ever spoken before. He inhaled sharply, feeling his heart swell with the force of the love he had just declared.

  He loved Julia. She made him strong, not weak. She did not seek to master him, but only to return his love. "I love Julia," he said again.

  And the spell that Zirra had held over him for far too long broke.

  The air around him whirled. He was thrust back against the wall with the force of it. He felt invisible bands snap from his wrists and neck, and every docile acceptance he had ever given lifted from his shoulders. He doubled over, bellowed with every breath of air in his lungs. And when he straightened, he knew he was free.

  Free!

  The knowledge held no joy. Only a painful reminder that he was without Julia.

  Zirra yelled with rage and flung herself at him, hitting and kicking.

  What should have been a catapult of teeth, fists and nails was only a tug of a creature to be pitied. He recognized her agony, because he experienced his own.

  He sighed while Zirra raged. And he waited. Aye, he understood this witch's obsession. He understood it so well that he could almost forgive her. Almost.

  "I will not rest until you've suffered a thousand deaths," she spat, then collapsed to her floor with a sharp cry of realization. She no longer owned him, and she could not curse him again now that his heart knew true love.

  "Worry not. I will suffer forever," he replied, "for I am parted from the woman I love." How true those words were. His life was nothing without Julia.

  He turned to leave Zirra sobbing, when a thunderous sound stopped him.

  Percen, High Priest of the Druinn, appeared in a whirl of wind, resplendent in his royal robe of turquoise and scarlet cloth. The surge of power he brought with him almost knocked Tristan to the ground. He felt the High Priest's grip upon his arm and turned to face him.

  "I wish words with you, Tristan. But first..." Percen released Tristan and pointed an accusatory finger at Zirra. "I must deal with you. You are a disgrace to our kind."

  "Nay, I am the best of our kind," she snarled, jolting up.

  "Keep talking. You are only increasing your punishment."

  Gone went her haughty smile, her smug air. She looked petrified and snatched up her robe in an attempt to cover herself. "What of Romulis? He aided me."

  "Nay. He aided me by distracting you, and thought he could save you in the process."

  "Percen--"

  "I told you to leave this mortal alone. I told you the Fates would one day return him."

  Tristan stared at the man who had hurtled him through the galaxies and felt...empty. He could not hate the man for having sent him to Julia, any more than he could despise Zirra, who felt love's arrow so fiercely in her heart. But all he wanted now was to return to Julia.

  "Percen--"

  Percen silenced Zirra with a wave of his hand. "You will interfere in the lives of mortals no more. The Alliance is too important to our kind." He raised his hands in the air and uttered a spell very much like the pleasure slave spell Zirra had uttered over Tristan so long ago.

  Zirra's eyes widened with horror as her body became transparent and then, like a whiff of smoke, blew into the very box Tristan had once occupied. Percen lifted the box. "I'm giving you to the mortal Peter," he said, patting the lid. "I want you far away from my son. He was to keep you occupied," he muttered, "not fall in love with you. Mayhap some time away from you will show him the error of his ways."

  Percen sighed, then looked to Tristan. "'Tis my hope Romulis will meet his true life-mate soon. Mayhap I will release Zirra later. For now, she must learn her proper place." He once again laid a hand on his shoulder. "I cast the world traveling spell because the time had not yet come to free you. Do you forgive me?"

  "I understand and forgive." And he did.

  "The Druinn will leave you in peace."

  "Wait," Tristan rushed out. "I would first beg a favor from you."

  Percen paused, his expression weary, then nodded. "Ask."

  "There is an otherworlder, Julia. I ask that you send me back to her."

  He shook his head. "Your place is here. The centuries you endured on other worlds have not yet passed here. To us, you have been gone only a few cycles. We are still adrift as the rebellion grows, and we are in need of leaders such as yourself to calm the angry waters of the people. I am sorry, Tristan, but you must stay here. It has already been prophesized that your firstborn will one day rule Imperia."

  Tristan blinked, almost choking on a wave of longing. "My son will rule?"

  "Your child will end the feud between our people. Permanently. Would you have this planet at war, simply to be with your woman?"

  Part of him cried nay. Another part of him screamed aye. "Bring Julia to me, then. She can give me this son, for I will not father a child with any other woman."

  "What if she does not wish to come?"

  He refused to ponder such an occurrence. "She will come to me."

  Percen sighed. "Then I offer you this--if you spend the next season fighting the rebellion and still yearn for the otherworlder--and she wants to come to you--I will bring her to you."

  Knowing he had no other option, Tristan gave a stiff nod.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Your Greatest Satisfaction Is Knowing

  You Pleased Your Master

  "JULIA," Faith said on a sigh. She sat beside Julia's bed, concerned. "Tristan left you. You can't mope here forever, neglecting your life and your business, praying for him to return. You have to move on. No man is worth this amount of suffering."

  "You don't understand, Faithie," she replied softly. She'd known saying goodbye to him would be hard. Brutal, even. She'd thought she would be prepared. But this...this was the cruelest torture, loving Tristan and living without him. He was everything to her; without him she had nothing.

  She'd always thought of herself as content. But she'd never known true contentment before Tristan.

  Murky darkness filled her bedroom because the curtains were drawn and the lights were switched off. She liked it this way. Here, she could remember; she could picture Tristan in her mind and could catch a hint of his lingering scent on the sheets and pretend that he really was here.

  "Just go, Faith," she said. She wanted to be alone with her memories. Maybe if she concentrated hard enough, he would appear.

  Don't cry, she commanded herself. Whatever you do, don't cry. Once you start, you'll never stop.

  "I saw Peter yesterday," Faith said.

  "I don't care."

  "I don't know what happened to him, but he was glowing."

  "I don't care," she said again.

  Her sister remained undeterred. "Refusing to leave your bed isn't going to help you. Thousands of women have been dumped all over the world. You have to pick yourself back up and prove you can live without him."

  "He didn't dump me." She'd heard every word. Heard Tristan tell her to live her dreams, heard his unspoken vow of love. He'd left with Zirra to save her. Oh, how she ached for him, how she longed to tell him again of her own love. "He was forced."

  Faith snorted. "That man was a mountain. No one could force him to do anything he didn't want to do."

  "Yes, they could." Her voice almost imperceptible, she told Faith the entire story. Her sister didn't believe her, and she didn't have the strength to convince her.

  She'd closed her shop this past week. She simply hadn't had the time or the energy to work. She needed Tristan, and her every waking moment was spent here at the house, in bed or on the computer, searching for information about magic and spells, something, anything to lead her to Imperia.

  To Tristan.

  So far, she'd fo
und only emptiness and despair.

  Remember me, he'd said, his voice sad.

  "I miss him so much," she told her sister, and one lone tear slid down her cheek. That was all it took for the damn to break. She sobbed and shook with the force of her grief, all of her tears cascading down her cheeks, wetting her pillow.

  Faith gentled a hand down her hair, held her tightly and cooed soft words of comfort.

  But there was no comfort to be found.

  Imperia

  ON THE LAST DAY of his required season without Julia, the fine hairs on the back of Tristan's neck rose, warning him of a coming adversary. He sat atop his horned stag, darkness surrounding him and his men. They had already fought many battles, and he knew many more were to come. It was as if he had never left this place, his battle instincts were so sharp and attuned. Mayhap that was because he only wanted Julia in his arms, and was willing to do anything to get her here.

  He knew his men wondered why he fought so hard, harder than ever before. He had told only his friend, Roake, who had agreed to fight at his side, giving his aid.

  In a low, quiet tone, he cautioned his army to guard their flanks. Danger lurked nearby. The talon at his side hummed with anticipation. Tristan clutched the hilt, ready. Oh, aye. A battle brewed.

  A war cry sounded--and it was not his.

  Rebel attackers jumped from the trees, blades hoisted in the air, the only thing visible in the night. Combat began seconds later. Tristan's talon sliced through the air, vibrating when it made contact with flesh.

  Energy flowed through his veins. Battle always had that effect on him, always gave him added strength. Yet this time, his energy stemmed from his desire to be with Julia. This was his last day without her--if she wanted to come to him. He had to believe she did. Otherwise, his life was not worth living.

  He fought like a man possessed. He heard men scream in pain. The blood of the rebels ran like crimson rivers along the grassy field. The muscles in his arms and back burned, not completely healed from the many battles he had already endured these many cycles, but he kept fighting, wielding his weapon with deadly intent. There was too much at stake to give up now.

  When he finished off one man, two others attacked him. He stepped backward, blocking a blow to his midsection. Then he lunged out, taking down one assailant in a single fluid spin. As he straightened, something stabbed at his back.

  On instinct, he dove to the right, a movement that prevented a talon from sinking past bone and muscle and saved his life. Wincing as the new wound throbbed in protest, he whipped around. His combatant grinned, sensing victory, and raised his arms. The silver metal glinted in the moonlight as it arced downward.

  Without pause, Tristan unsheathed the blades Julia had given him as he spun and stabbed upward. Instant contact. With a painful scream, the man collapsed.

  More men attacked from the trees, and he and his men continued to fight. Not long after, Roake sounded the victory shout. Loud, buoyant cheers covered the lingering sounds of battle, the moans of the hundreds of men lying wounded and bleeding in the grass.

  Tristan rubbed a weary hand down his equally weary face, then gazed up at the heavens. He had had enough. It was time.

  "Percen," he shouted, praying the High Priest heard him. "I fight no more until our bargain is complete."

  JULIA LAY IN BED. She wore the same T-shirt and sweatpants she'd worn every day since Tristan left. They were his, and she welcomed the small bit of comfort they brought her. Another week had passed without him. Another awful, lonely week.

  She was no longer sleeping. She only tossed and turned and imagined.

  When would this terrible ache subside? She just didn't know. As she clutched her pillow to her chest, she heard a voice boom through her home. She jolted upright, startled.

  "Do you wish to go to him, lass?" It was the same Scottish burr she'd heard at the flea market when she'd bought Tristan's box.

  She didn't question her sanity. She simply shouted, "Yes!"

  As soon as she uttered the word, her world began to spin. She squeezed her eyes tightly closed. Colors swirled behind her lids, and something whizzed in her ears. How many minutes passed, she didn't know. Please let this be real, she thought, trying to kindle her growing hope.

  An eternity later, the spinning ceased.

  When she opened her eyes, she had to blink until they adjusted to the bright sunlight. She stood on a bed of white grass. Half-clothed men strode all around her, some sweaty and bloody. Some freshly washed. They gave her confused looks but did not approach her.

  A large lake of perfectly clear water consumed half the land. Tristan leaned against a gleaming silver boulder, his eyes closed as water cascaded down his naked torso and pant-clad legs.

  With a joyous cry, she shouted his name, "Tristan!"

  His eyelids snapped open. He shook his head, as if he didn't quite believe his eyes. Then he leapt into motion. He ran to her and swept her into his arms. "Are you here? Are you truly here?"

  "I'm here, I'm here." Tears burned her eyes, such happy tears.

  He squeezed her so tightly she almost lost her breath. "Welcome to Imperia, little dragon," he breathed into her neck.

  Cool droplets of water soaked her clothing, but she didn't care. She wound her arms around his neck and held him closer. "I've missed you so much. My house is empty without you."

  He pulled back from her ever so slightly. "I cannot go back with you, Julia. Not ever."

  Julia thought of Faith. She would miss her, but she knew her sister would be all right without her and would hopefully one day understand. "I would like to stay with you. If you'll have me."

  "If I will have you?" With another shout of delight, he smothered her face with kisses and nips. "I would die without you. I love you so much I ache."

  The men around them cheered loud and long. And Julia caught one man's smile. He was tall, as tall as Tristan, with a scar that slashed down the left side of his face. She couldn't help but grin back.

  "I want to make you my life-mate," he said. "I want to give you my children. You can open a shop at the market and all of Imperia will come to purchase your wares."

  "There is only one thing I need, Tristan, and that's you." Her contented smile grew as she stared into his eyes. She had never felt so whole and complete. "You're a part of me I don't want to live without. With you, I'm content."

  "We were always meant to find one another, I think." Tristan cupped her chin in his hands. "You are willing to give up everything for me," he said, awed by that fact.

  "No, I was simply willing to take what mattered most."

  "What matters most, Julia? Like you, I need the words. What matters most to you?"

  "My final lesson, of course."

  He stilled. Not what he had expected, but then, she had always done the unexpected. He grinned back at her. "Best you tell me what you would have this last lesson be."

  She gazed up at him through half-lowered lids. "Why, happily ever after."

  "I will do better than that." His gaze never strayed from hers. "I will give you forever, my beauty, my dragon. I give you my love, all my heart and my soul. I give you my name and my children."

  "I love you, Tristan."

  "By Elliea, I could live on those words alone. I love you, too." Julia strengthened him, completed him in a way unknown to him until he'd first seen her. He could not breathe without her, could not function without her at his side. "Will you life-join with me, and have my children?" he asked raining soft butterfly kisses upon her face.

  "Oh, that will be my pleasure." Happy tears gathered at the corners of her eyes and her chin wobbled slightly.

  "And my pleasure, as well. I will always be your pleasure slave. Always."

  "Hmm..." She pulled his lips to hers. "That's all a girl can ask for."

  EPILOGUE

  IT WAS SOON to become the loudest birth ever recorded in Imperian history.

  "Tristan," Julia said, panting, a sheen of sweat and pain dampening he
r brow. "How could you do this to me?"

  He stilled, concerned for her, and quite baffled by her question. "Do what, little dragon?"

  "Impregnate me, you bastard!"

  At that, he chuckled, though the sound was strained. He hated that she was in so much pain and wanted to take it all into himself. He wiped her brow with a gentle hand. "Just imagine, my love. We will soon welcome our son into the world."

  Those words caused peace to settle over her features. "Yes. We will welcome our son." Another pain hit her and she screamed. "If he doesn't hurry I will personally drag him out." As the pain faded, she drew in a breath, then another, then settled back on the bed.

  "Does the pain leave you?" he asked hopefully.

  "A little." Closing her eyes, she uttered a tired sigh. "I can't believe it. I'm about to become a mother."

  "Life is good. Did I ever tell you that the Druinn High Priest predicted our firstborn would one day rule Imperia?"

  "No." The thought pleased her, though. She, a formerly plain, shy woman, was about to give birth to a future king. "That is so cool."

  "I can easily picture our boy sitting atop the royal throne. He will be known as a kind, giving king with a capacity for fairness that rivals even his mother's."

  Except fifteen minutes later, Tristan welcomed his daughter into the world--a girl who would one day rule Imperia, he realized. How...astounding.

  Holding the beautiful squalling infant in her arms, Julia nuzzled the baby's neck, cooing soft words. "Finally," she said, "a ruler of uncommon intelligence."

  Tristan remained unmoving, shock still coursing through his blood. "A female sovereign," he whispered.

  Julia looked up at him through the spiky shield of her lashes. "Are you disappointed that we didn't have a son?"

  "Nay, sweet." He smiled down at her with all the love he felt shining in his eyes. "I have never been happier."

  ISBN: 978-1-4592-4715-4

  THE PLEASURE SLAVE

  Copyright (c) 2005 by Gena Showalter

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario M3B 3K9, Canada.