Hero (26 page)

"Hey, Slave Boy!" Hartak's voice called out over Trag's comstone. "Where in the scorching Darconian desert are you? I mean, are you two coming or what?"

"Yeah, we're coming!" Trag gasped. "Be right there. Just hold onto your tail."

"Story of my life," Hartak muttered. "Hurry up and wait. That's all I ever do."

Micayla was right in the middle of the great mother of all orgasms, but she

couldn't help laughing as Hartak signed off. "Ohmygod," she wailed. "Do you think he knows?"

"He was probably just trying to be cute," Trag chuckled. "He and Dragus used to do shit like that to Ty and Kyra all the time." He paused as he backed away from her.

"Think you can walk?"

"I'm not sure," she replied candidly. "Would you mind carrying me?"

"Not at all," he said. "In fact, there's nothing I'd like more." Gathering up their clothing, he dropped the pile on Micayla's stomach and then scooped her up in his arms.

"Mmm," he murmured as he kissed her. "I can't wait to see the look on Hartak's face when I walk into The Shrine with a naked, freshly fucked Mick in my arms. He's just gonna up and die."
Chapter 19

If Hartak was surprised, it didn't show. "Hey, Slave Boy," he called out as they approached. "Got everything all ready for you."

Trag grinned at the big Darconian. "Thanks, Hartak. You're a real pal."

"Aw, go on," Hartak said with a wave of his huge hand. "Just have a good time and try not to think about me standing out here in torment."

"Ha!" said Trag. "But that reminds me." Tapping his comstone he said, "Hey, Leroy. Where are you?"

"In my bed," Lerotan replied. "Where are you?"

"Not coming home tonight," Trag said cheerfully. "Don't bother to wait up."

"Wasn't planning on it," Lerotan said. "So, what's up with you and Micayla? I thought you hated each other."

Trag was in no mood to explain. "We'll talk about it later." With another tap, he cut the link and proceeded to carry Micayla into The Shrine.

The light from two of Darconia's three moons shone brightly, lighting his path,

though Trag could have found his way blindfolded. How many times had he dreamed of making love with a woman out here beneath the stars? He had no idea, but there had been countless nights spent alone except for the other slaves slumbering nearby. Too many.

Trag had never spent a whole night alone with a woman in his life.

Hartak had outdone himself. Near the sheltered part of the portico, there was a

table set with large carafes of both water and wine, a tray piled high with fresh fruit, and a stack of scrail cloths. Next to the table was a bed--and not one of the smaller types usually provided for humans and similar species when they visited. No, this one was big enough for an adult Darconian. The mattress was firm, the sheets were soft, Micayla was in his arms, and suddenly, Trag didn't care if it was only chemistry between them. This would still be a night to remember.

He laid her gently on the bed and tossed their clothes onto a nearby chair. They

were torn in a few places, but he had an idea they wouldn't be wearing them again anyway. He'd always felt that the Darconians had the right idea when it came to their style of dress, and the way Micayla's skin shone in the moonlight confirmed it. Her hair caught the moonbeams and sparkled as though filled with gems. What had he been

thinking when he resolved to resist her? He was an idiot and he knew it. When she'd hissed at him, it had set him off in a way that was so unique he should have seen it for what it was.

Trag took a moment to wipe himself clean with a scrail cloth before pouring two

glasses of wine and placing one in Micayla's hand. From his own glass, he savored the sweet, potent wine, the flavor bringing back memories of the times he'd spent with Queen Scalia drinking wine and talking for half the night. He missed her presence in the palace, but less so when he recalled that if she was still alive and the reigning queen, he would be her slave and Micayla probably wouldn't be there at all.

His expression must have shown something of what he was feeling, for he looked

up to find Micayla studying him curiously. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he replied. "Just thinking about how different things are now."

"From when you were a slave?"

"Yeah. Ty had all the luck back then--he had Kyra, and I--"

"Trag," she said gently. "Try not to think about it, okay?"

"It's hard not to," he said. "I wanted her so badly. I used to lie out here and think about him being with her. It was--"

"Torment?"

Trag nodded. Hartak's word described the feeling quite well. "Like you wouldn't believe."

Micayla set down her wineglass and held out her hand. "It won't be torment this time."

Trag closed his eyes, biting his lip. No, it wouldn't be torment--anything but that.

Taking her hand, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. "My beautiful Mick," he murmured. "I'm sure you could make me forget the worst times of my life."

"I'll do my best," she promised. Smiling, she added, "Hey, what's with you? We were having such fun and then you went and got all serious on me."

"Everybody gets serious sometimes," he said defensively. "I'm no different. Not often, maybe, but sometimes."

She nodded as though she understood. "Come to bed, Trag. If nothing else, you could use some sleep." Pulling a sheet up over herself, she added, "I had no idea it would be so chilly out here at night."

"I loved it," Trag said. "It gets so hot during the day, and then I'd go to sleep out here, finally cooling off enough to need a blanket and then I'd--"

"What?"

"Wish I had a nice, warm woman to curl up with."

"Well, you've got one now, haven't you?"

"Yes, I do," he said as he climbed in beside her. It felt very natural to do so, but at the same time it was unusual for him to be with a woman who wasn't crawling all over him, demanding that he mate with her. This was completely different. It wasn't

demanding, it was more... relaxing.

Micayla lay on her side, her head propped up on her hand. "Back home on Earth it gets cold in the winter, but there's just something about being snug and warm by a roaring fire while it's snowing outside."

Trag shook his head. "Not sure I'd care for snow."

Micayla stared at him, her mouth agape. "You mean you've never even seen

snow?"

"Nope," Trag replied. "Never have and hope I never do."

"You should see it at least once in your life. It's beautiful." Smiling wickedly, she added, "Plus, it makes great weather for curling up with a nice, warm woman."

"I suppose so--though that's the kind of thing I don't mind doing even when it's hot."

"I've noticed." Micayla threaded her fingers through a lock of his hair, teasing it gently. "Can't say the same for myself."

"Nope, can't see you curled up with a woman either."

"You know what I mean," she deadpanned. "This is a first for me. Normally I have very little desire to be this close to any man--and at one point I thought that included
you."

Trag pulled her close for a gentle kiss. Her lips were warm and inviting, not

hissing or biting, just... sweet. "I'm glad you changed your mind."

"Me too."

Her scent was delicate and pleasing as Micayla kissed him back--not urgent or

seductive. Even so, it wove a spell around him, like a net that captured and drew him in, binding him to her.

As Trag deepened the kiss, images swirled through his mind--green trees, open

fields, the blush of ripening fruit, and sparkling water flowing over stones in a creek bed.

Blue skies, rainbows, and clouds. The peaceful glow of a setting sun and the tranquil twilight that followed. The laughing faces of children at play. Trag wrapped his arms tighter around Micayla as the images gave way to other sensations. The heady fragrance of flowers in bloom, the smell of rich, damp earth, the sound of Micayla's sweet laughter, the scent of her arousal, and the aroma of fresh strawberries...

He began purring without conscious effort and she eased onto her back, taking

him with her. Trag's tongue slid past her lips, delving into her mouth as though seeking the source of the flood of imagery in his head. Trag knew the moment her scent began to alter. The change was subtle, but its effect was profound. Heat flooded his groin and his purring increased in volume as it deepened in timbre.

Micayla's hands were in his hair, running down his back and shoulders. He felt

her touch on his face, her welcoming gesture as her arms and legs enfolded him in her soft warmth. As he penetrated the source of the heat, he sighed, purring loudly as he began a slow dance inside her. Breaking the kiss, he speared his fingers through her hair as his eyes swept over her face. The soft glow of her eyes captured his gaze and held it firmly; he couldn't have looked away even if he'd wanted to.

Her eyes reflected the pulsations of joy that accompanied her sighs of pleasure as he used his body to convey the depth of his feelings. Though she held him in thrall, he didn't care; he welcomed his imprisonment if it meant being able to drink in the sight of her eyes forever. Freedom was highly overrated. He longed to be a slave again. Her slave forever, giving her joy for as long as he lived.

Her soft cries heightened his own feelings of ecstasy and sent him on a steady

upward climb. When he reached the peak at last, he felt more than his seed leave his body. Something else went with it, something he could never take back. A part of him belonged to her now, though he couldn't have said what it was.

Trag watched as Micayla's eyes became suffused with joy, and with that image

firmly imprinted upon his soul, he slept.

***

pillowed on her stomach and his hair blanketing her chest. She vaguely remembered having pulled what she thought was a sheet up over her during the night, but it must have been his hair instead. As his thick curls stirred in the morning breeze, she slid her arms beneath them, cherishing their warmth.

Gazing up at Trag beneath the moon and stars had been an experience unlike any

she had ever known. The sparkling sky and his glowing eyes were mesmerizing, filling
her with a deep contentment. She had lain awake for some time after Trag fell asleep, listening to the sounds of the desert as the night birds swooped through the field of stars above her head. She'd slept outdoors before, and sometimes under an open sky, but that night, she felt like part of the cosmos for the very first time.

No longer was she the lone alien being of unknown origin that she had been on

Earth. She was now part of a whole with a sense of purpose and belonging that enveloped her like a hug. Wherever she went from now on, she would find comfort in knowing that there were others of her kind. Granted, they were few, but they were becoming as dear to her as if she had known them all her life.

Especially this one. She traced the line of his brow with a fingertip, knowing that this was the first and only man she'd ever been truly intimate with. There was a saying on Earth that men were from Mars and women were from Venus, but she was from Zetith, which had put her in a totally different category--or so she'd always thought. But she wasn't. She was female and not only that, she was normal! Men had always seemed like another species to her--apart from the fact that the men she'd known truly were of a different species--but it seemed to go deeper than that. And now she knew why. It was very satisfying to finally understand so many things about herself. Growing up as she did was worse than being an orphan and not knowing your family's medical history; she'd had no idea what to expect as she grew older. She'd had no sense of self beyond that which she'd created on her own. She was always on the outside looking in, and hardly ever with a man in her bed.

Micayla had never looked at a man the way she looked at Trag. She could

understand on a cognitive level that many of them were attractive, but Trag went beyond that. She was rapidly approaching the point where she didn't want to bite him every time she laid eyes on him; she wanted to kiss him.

The cool night air was quickly being replaced by the heat of the day and Micayla

was beginning to wish the bed had been under the dome. She wouldn't have been able to look up at the stars, but at least they could have lounged there longer.

"Micayla," someone said over her comstone. "Are you awake?"

"Uh, yes," she replied.

"And... decent?"

"I believe so." She wasn't wearing anything but the necklace Dragus had given her, but since that constituted acceptable Darconian dress, she didn't think it mattered.

However, just to be sure, she pulled the corner of the sheet across her chest.

"Good. We're coming out there."

The doorway from the greenhouse portion of The Shrine opened and Dragus and

Hartak emerged, carrying more water and fruit.

"We brought you some breakfast," Hartak called out as they approached. "Want us to move that bed into the shade while we're at it?"

Trag stirred beneath her fingers. "Should have known you guys would find some excuse to butt in," he grumbled.

"Aw, just be quiet, Slave Boy," Dragus said. "We'll take care of this." With that, the two powerful lizards lifted them, bed and all, onto the dais beneath the dome. "There.

That should be a little cooler."

"Thanks, guys," Micayla said. "It was starting to get kinda hot out here."

"It was pretty hot last night." Dragus snickered. The two guards exchanged a look
and both began laughing uncontrollably.

"What's so funny?"

Trag took a deep breath and sat up. "They were listening over the comstones," he said wearily. With a knowing look at them, he added, "Weren't you?"

Dragus was still roaring with laughter, so it was Hartak who spoke. "Yeah, what in the name of the Great Mother is snow?"

"How does anyone keep a secret around here?" Micayla muttered.

Trag gave her necklace a little tug. "You just have to take them off. If someone's wearing one and you whisper their name, they might not hear you, but the next word they say activates the link in the other direction." Scratching his scalp, he added, "I guess I should have told you... Sorry... I just wasn't thinking about it last night."