Hers To Cherish (Verdantia Book 3) (10 page)

“
DeKieran.” She nudged his hip gently with no response. “DeKieran. I need to pee.” She nudged him again. She tried to wiggle out from underneath him. “Ramsey! I need to pee, bad. Let me up or I’ll wet the bed.”

With a sleepy grunt, he raised himself just enough on his elbow to permit her to wriggle free and flee for the
bathroom. He lay propped on some pillows when she returned, stroking a rather impressive erection. “Come here.”

She crawled cautiously o
nto the bed and obeyed the firm push on her shoulders that directed her head between his legs.

“You know what to do.”
Afterward, he pulled her up to his chest, tucked her under his arm – and promptly fell asleep.

She lay there in the early dawn and catalogued her aches and pains. Practically
dislocated jaw? Yes. Nipples so tender she couldn’t sleep on her stomach? Yes. Clit so sensitive even the stupid thong would be intolerable? Yes. And this was only the first twelve hours.
God damned horny bastard.

Ram studied the fighter in front of him. Standing well over eight feet, with legs the size of tree trunks and arms like cannons, the creature was huge, barely fitting the definition of humanoid. On Khlossia, the gravity was twice that of “Earth-normal” and over the centuries the original settlers had mutated into massive goliaths to endure the constant pressure. Unfortunately, unlike most beings that large, this one was fast. W
ell, I’ll just have to be faster.

“Verdantian.” The behemoth nodded at Ram
. He held his sword loosely in one hand and made a ‘come and get me’ motion with the other.

“
Khlossian.” Ramsey grinned and shook his head. His only chance with this opponent was to tire him and then try to find a vulnerable spot. Grappling with him head-on would be suicidal.

An hour and
one-half later, Ram was still trying to find that vulnerable spot and the Khlossian showed no signs of tiring. With a grunt, Ram blocked a thundering blow and backed up. The shin greave that had threatened to abandon him minutes earlier gave up and slipped off, tripping him. When Ram sprawled in the sand of the ring, the Khlossian picked him up like a victor brandishing a trophy and held him overhead with a roar of triumph. Turning rapidly in circles, the Khlossian flung Ram through the air like a shot put. Ram landed three rings over, flat on his back in deep, soft sand.
Shit, that fucker is strong.

The two astonished fighters
, whose combat Ram had landed in the middle of, stood dumbstruck as he sat up, then stood. Dusting himself off, he looked around for his sword. It lay in the sand several feet away. He picked it up, and saluted the two fighters. “Gentlemen. Sorry for the interruption.”

Hi
king his pants up, he looked around for the Khlossian. The beast was lumbering out of the ring chuckling. Ram walked toward him. About forty feet from the hulking creature, Ram sprinted all-out. “Khlossian!” he shouted when almost upon him.

The huge being turned as Ram launched himself into the air. With a blood-curdling yell, Ram
smashed the hilt of his heavy sword down upon the creature’s head. Backed by the velocity of Ram’s sprint and the weight of his body, the blow took the Khlossian down like a felled tree. He lay, stunned, staring into the sky. Ram went sprawling in a sliding confusion of tangled arms and legs. He sat up with his legs spread in a vee before him, too disoriented to move.

The
Khlossian rolled over and stood up, rubbing his head. His boar-like eyes narrowed. His head swiveled and slowly scanned the immediate area. The hulking beast locked on Ram, sitting a few feet away in the dirt. He opened and closed his massive fists with an audible crack of knuckles. With a gap-toothed snarl, he started toward him. The ground shook with every ponderous footstep.

Ah, shit. I’m just going to fucking sit here
and die.
Ram wearily watched the colossus approach and stop in front of him, eclipsing the sun. An enormous hand extended down toward him and the great beast’s lips twisted in a crooked grin. “Verdantian. Hee, hee, hee. Good blow.”

With a chuckle, Ram took the proffered hand and his opponent pulled him to his feet.
Ram staggered beneath two friendly pats on his back and the enormous being laughed again. In a low rumble that sounded like boulders grinding together he said, “I am Tok. Drink with me, Verdantian.”

Ram shrugged. “
Ramsey DeKieran. Why not? I could use a drink.”

He thought for a moment about
Steffania.
She’ll follow me.

Still dressed in their practice armor, still
stinking of sweat and wearing the grit of the rings, Ramsey and Tok sprawled in sturdy chairs at a substantial table in a dark corner of “The Spangenhelm,” a bar, that throbbed with lively music and throngs of patrons at all hours of the day and night. The place had the effrontery to proclaim “Best brew in the galaxy served by the most fetching wenches, whatever your species!” in a radiant red holo-screen above the door. From the nostril-numbing smell of rancid, fermented grain, Ram assumed much of the brew covered the floor.

Their arrival was greeted by a humanoid with a chirping, “What’ll ya have
, gents?” piping out of its translator.

“Two Vxloncian
‘special’ ales,” Tok rumbled. “My tab. Keep it coming.” When their wait-being sauntered away to get their order, Tok turned to Ramsey with a grin.

“So, Verdantian. Do you know a man by the name of Eric DeStroia? I
encountered him some years ago on Vortus. He was looking for a woman....”

As Ram listened to the Khlossian describe his encounter with Eric DeStroia
, Tok’s public façade of “massive, dumb, behemoth” morphed into “observant, intelligent, over-sized alien”. His conversation transitioned from words of two syllables to complex sentences and the vacuous, antagonistic expression Tok normally wore transformed into pleasant, good humor.

When their drink order arrived,
Ramsey hoisted the mammoth mug holding a toxic-smelling chartreuse-green liquid and took a cautious sip. Ram eyed the unlikely looking drink and held it up with an approving, “Good stuff,” and then gulped several deep swallows. He thumped the mug down and regarded Tok. “You are not what you seem, Khlossian.”

The
Khlossian g
round out a chuckle. “No one ever is, Verdantian,” and followed Ramsey’s example, though on a far grander scale in keeping with his size. When Tok came up for air, he cradled an empty mug in two beefy hands and then leaned toward Ramsey. “I’ve been told to help you.”

Many hours and an uncounted number of brews later, the giant carried Ramsey to a cab and tossed him inside. “Take Verdantian home,” the Khlossian grunted to the driver. “Good fighter, Ramsey. Tok’s friend.”

Ram
grinned blearily. “Friends, Tok.” He looked around the cab.
Missing something. Ah, Steffania.
At that moment, his new friend grunted and looked over his shoulder.

“Are you really intelligent life? Get out of my way, you hulking
cretin. I told you ten times, he’s my
dominus
. Where he goes, I go.” Steffania pushed ineffectively at the Khlossian blocking her access to Ram. Unable to shift the mountainous creature, she wriggled through the narrow gap between Tok’s legs, tripped over the vehicle’s running board and sprawled face-first onto the floor of the cab. “God-damned aliens,” she spat.

Ramsey thought it was the funniest thing he’d
ever seen. He laughed riotously all the way to the villa.

Well, I suppose if you live long enough, you see everything
– including Ramsey DeKieran, scourge of Verdantia, drunk on his ass.
When the Khlossian hadn’t killed Ramsey, Steffania had, in fact, followed the pair and fought her way into a dark corner of the dubious establishment. Within eyesight of Ramsey, she huddled on the filthy, sticky floor of the noxious bar with her back pressed against the wall. For hours, Ram and that Khlossian, their heads mere inches from each other, carried on an intent conversation while pouring immense amounts of alcohol down their throats.

What can Lord Ramsey Melborn DeKieran have in common with that hulking mass of dubious intelligence?
She caught only bits and snatches of their words over the ongoing clamor of multiple languages, the bonging of vid-games and the shouts from the wait-staff. The strong fumes rising from the floor began to have an effect on Steffania’s sobriety and her concentration wandered. Before long, her eyelids sank and she slipped into a light doze. The commotion of the giant Khlossian hoisting a drunken Ramsey over his shoulder jarred her awake and she hastily scampered after them, bowling over a quadruped with its head where most creatures had tails, a Govinian with three eye-stalks, and a cephalopod whose limbs she didn’t have time to count
.
She had followed Tok onto the street, demanding to know where he was taking Ramsey, but he had ignored her. Then there was the debacle of getting into the cab.

The cab ride over, n
ow Steffania staggered under Ram’s weight as she helped him out of the vehicle and then to the front door of the villa. A very anxious Pansy met them at the door.

“Is he injured?
Is he sick? I’ll call the medicus right away.”

“Pansy.” Ram leered
, swaying unsteadily. The little
slaaf
hovered around Ram and, with a revolted expression, surreptitiously fanned the air in front of her face. 

“
Not hurt, just
stinking
drunk.” Steffania snorted. “Let’s get him bathed. Then I’d appreciate some help getting him into bed.”

“Of course! I’ll start the water right away.”

“And if you have some super remedy for a hangover, make it. This fearless warrior is going to need one in the morning.”

Pansy stopped briefly. “And you? Are you
?” The violet-eyed woman gestured vaguely to Steffania’s nipples and pubic area.

Steffania smiled. “Yes, thanks to your lovely cream, I feel quite
normal.” Somehow, Pansy had known of Steffania’s distress following Ramsey’s pleasantries with the nipple and clit clamps. She had knocked softly on the bedroom door early in the morning, proffering the pink jar. An appreciative smile on his face, Ram had watched as Steffania slowly massaged a dollop into her left nipple.

“Give me the jar,” he’d ordered and then treated her right nipple until it stood erect under his teasing fingers. “Sit on the edge of the bed.
Lay back. Put your feet on the edge and spread your knees.”

He’d separated her labia and found her tender clit. She flinched at the cold
sensation when a generous amount of the ointment landed on her hot little bud. When Ram finished smoothing it in, Steffania had writhed on the bed, groaning with denied release.

And now this.
Damnation, will this day never end?
  

With the help of Pansy, she was able to get Ram into the bath.
While the women undressed him and guided his staggering steps, Ram nuzzled against Steffania, kissing her neck, petting her breasts, trying to snatch sloppy kisses.

When they got him into the water, Steffania told Pansy
to bring food. “Maybe he will sober up with something in his stomach.”

Steffania knew a
lcohol rendered some men sexually incapable. Clearly, Ramsey was not one of them. Steffania finally fled from the tub. It was retreat or be drowned by his drunken attempts to maul her. When Pansy arrived with the food, Steffania gasped, “Put it down and help me get him into bed.” After a comedic, stumbling grapple, beginning at the tub and ending in the bedroom, all three fell onto the large bed.

Ramsey
regarded Pansy with a lopsided smile. “Mmm. A three-some.”

Steffania looked at an alarmed Pansy. “Get out of here. Now!” she hissed.

Pansy flew from the bedroom. That made Steffania Ram’s sole target.

“Come here, vixen.” His dark brows waggled at her and a finger beckoned.