Rebel (17 page)

“They refer to themselves in the plural.
‘We’ are unhappy with… It is unacceptable to ‘us’ that… And so
forth. But the message was closed with a single name. We think it
might be an acronym, but they didn’t explain the meaning.”

“You said I was uniquely qualified to handle
this situation, Sir. What did you mean?”

“You excel in covert operations. You have
proven to be extremely discreet. The Comet Coalition has always
refused to negotiate with terrorists, and we cannot afford to
compromise that position.”

“So, this operation is completely
unofficial
?”

“Exactly,” the admiral confirmed.

“How was the kidnapping accomplished? When
and where did it take place?”

“Palmer was taken from his dorm room on
d’Arrest the same night Danette and Ashton disappeared from a
gala.”

“Disappeared?” She detected a certain
significance in the word. “There were no witnesses? No apparent
struggle?”

“That’s correct,” Admiral Tiptonn muttered.
“They just disappeared into thin air. No one saw or heard
anything.”

“May I see the message?”

He opened a file folder on the table in
front of him and produced a single sheet of paper. Meredith took it
from him and quickly scanned the rambling contents before her gaze
focused on the intricate symbol at the bottom of the page.

“NëvouS.” Her heart lodged in her throat.
Did they know? Was this a test of her allegiance?

“Who is NëvouS? Do you know what that symbol
signifies?” Admiral Tiptonn asked, his sharp gray eyes searching
her features.

“Perhaps.” She swallowed and scooted to the
edge of her chair. “Within certain circles, my stepson Korbin Reah
is known as NëvouS. He has used this avatar since he was old enough
to activate an access terminal. I’m not supposed to know these
things, of course, but Korbin is not quite as clever as he
believes.”

“Your stepson is one of the rebels?” Chief
Justice Boehme was clearly upset by the prospect.

“Korbin Reah is on our list of suspects,”
Admiral Tiptonn reminded her. “We had no idea this man was your
son.”

“I was married to his father. Does this
disqualify me from the mission?”

“Only if you insist,” the premier said. “I
think it’s a wonderful stroke of luck.”

Korbin knew he was being a fool, but he
couldn’t stay away. After transmitting his message to the executive
council through an untraceable series of relays, he’d found himself
at the door to the control booth. He stood there for a long time,
reminding himself of all the reasons he couldn’t interact with
Danette Tiptonn.

But the memory of her lather-slicked body
haunted him. Her soft cries of passion echoed endlessly through his
mind. He hadn’t instructed her to touch herself. She’d taunted him
with the display, challenging him—summoning him.

Pleasure Master Nine was happy to oblige.
Korbin entered the booth. Larz sat in one of the two chairs. The
control panel on his forearm emitted music as he watched the
displays.

“Any activity?” Korbin slipped into the
chair beside the younger man.

“Nope. It seems our guests are used to a
more leisurely timetable than Borrelly requires. They’re both still
sleeping.”

“Take a break. It’s bound to be a long,
boring day.”

“Sure, boss.” Larz stood and started toward
the door. “I’m really sorry about the other night. It won’t happen
again.”

Korbin managed a stiff nod. At least one of
them had learned their lesson.

“Did you send the message?”

“Yes, but this one just confirms what we’ve
done. Later this afternoon I’ll transmit our demands.”

Larz nodded. “See you in a few.”

Korbin focused immediately on Danette’s
sleeping image. Why couldn’t he banish her from his thoughts? It
wasn’t for lack of trying. With the negotiations underway, it was
only a matter of time before the council responded and she was
whisked back to Halley Prime. His pampered princess would be locked
in her ivory tower, inaccessible to someone like him.

The thought twisted around Korbin like a
massive snake, stealing his breath and tightening his chest. He
might never see her again. Why was that possibility so painful? It
was irrational. He hardly knew her. No, he didn’t know her at all.
But the need to get to know her burned through him like slow-moving
lava.

Desire fueled his determination and Korbin
turned his attention to the control console. Larz wouldn’t be gone
long. Korbin had to hurry. Programming carefully selected segments
of the video record into a randomly changing loop, Korbin
constructed the illusion needed to assure their privacy.

The door to the control booth opened and
Larz strolled in. “Anything interesting?” The younger man slipped
back into his chair as Korbin stood.

“The college boy has been sort of restless,
but the princess is sleeping like a baby.”

“Damn, she’s hot,” Larz whispered.

“Look. Don’t touch. And don’t talk to her
again.” Amused by his own hypocrisy, Korbin smiled. “I’ll check
back with you later.”

“No hurry. I can babysit with the best of
them.” Larz fingered the control band on his wrist and accessed his
music files.

Korbin slipped from the booth and headed
down the corridor. His heart beat faster with each step. He’d just
talk to her, find out who trained her. Why did she seem so
familiar? He’d spent four years at the Pleasure Palace, but his
interaction with the clientele had been minimal. He’d been hired to
train other Masters, to teach a variety of techniques and
approaches to sensual power exchange.

Maybe he could… Heat surged through his
body, mocking his nonchalance. He’d do a whole lot more than talk
if she gave the slightest indication she was agreeable. As if the
scene in the shower wasn’t invitation enough?

Slipping soundlessly into the holding cell,
Korbin waited for his eyes to adjust to the dimness. He could
barely make out her shape on the bed, but even this was too risky.
He crept across the room then deactivated the lights with a
Borrellian voice command.

Startled from her sleep by a foreign phrase,
Danette opened her eyes to darkness. “What the… Hello?”

Silence.

Oh shit, what now?
Three days of
monotonous boredom had lulled her into a sense of security. “Why
did you turn off the lights?” She huddled on the bed, blinking in a
futile effort to focus through the darkness. The Pleasure Master
had used the dark to motivate her. Had he finally returned? A
violent shiver sped down her spine. “This is suffocating.”

“If you see my face, I’ll have to kill you.
I thought you’d prefer the dark.”

His deep, faintly accented voice came from
right beside the bed. Danette gasped and scrambled into the corner.
His warm hand grasped her ankle and pulled her away from the wall.
She screamed.

“The room is sealed. No one can hear you.
Calm down.”

“What… What do you want?” She twisted,
trying to dislodge his hand.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to
talk.”

She laughed. “Pleasure Masters don’t talk,
they command.”

“Well, I’m commanding you to talk to me.” He
skimmed his hands up her body until he found her shoulders. He
didn’t cup her mound or fondle her breasts. It didn’t make sense.
Why was he here if he didn’t mean to fuck her?

“Lie back. The darkness is less disorienting
if you lie still.”

“Are the others… Can they hear us?”

“No one can hear us. Just relax.” Applying
gentle pressure, he guided her down. “That’s better.”

Danette trembled. His hands were warm and
strong. Awareness pulsed between them, awakening long-neglected
desire. She closed her eyes, wishing she could see him. “What have
you done with Palmer and Ashton?”

“They’re safe, for now.”

That voice. She knew that voice, knew she’d
encountered this man at the Pleasure Palace, but couldn’t quite
pinpoint his identity. “Why should I trust you?” She started to sit
again, but his hands remained firm on her shoulders. If she
struggled, would he understand? Would he climb on top of her and
hold her down? Would he kiss her into silence and… She was being
ridiculous. He was here for information not sex.

“You can believe me or not, it makes no
difference.” He squeezed her shoulders and stroked her neck.

She arched away from his light caress but
kept her arms at her sides. It didn’t matter if he was a Pleasure
Master. He was obviously one of the rebels. And that fact was the
only one that mattered.

“Why did you touch yourself in the shower?
You did so long before I told you to.”

Swallowing with difficulty, Danette debated
what to say. “You said you couldn’t touch me, so I… Isn’t that want
you wanted? A hostage is supposed to cooperate with their captor.
That’s what keeps them alive long enough to be rescued.”

“Don’t you mean ransomed? How are you going
to be rescued when no one knows where you are?”

She wanted to laugh. Would it shock him to
know she didn’t want to be rescued? She was just as much a prisoner
on Halley Prime as she was in this holding cell. Her father planned
her days and scrutinized her every movement, making sure she never
did anything inappropriate again.

It didn’t seem to matter where she was; she
was destined to be an isolated captive.

“How much are you asking for me?” she
whispered.

“How much are you worth?”

“To my father? Everything.”

“And to your Master?”

Was this a trick? Was he recording their
conversation? Had he recorded her wanton behavior in the shower?
Her father already considered her a perverted whore. He felt it his
parental obligation to save her from herself.

“I no longer have a Master,” she admitted in
a pain-filled whisper.

She’d spent the first nineteen years of her
life in her father’s shadow. Men either avoided her entirely or
tripped over each other trying to impress her father by wooing her.
But they had no real interest in the person they romanced. She was
Admiral Tiptonn’s daughter, their ticket to promotion and long-term
success.

“Did he dismiss you from his service or did
you ask to be released?”

Pain spiked through her at his casual
question. If he only knew! “Why do you care? Who are you?” Her
voice barely a whisper, she confessed, “Your voice is so familiar.
I know we’ve met before.”

He was silent for a long time. If it weren’t
for his hands on her shoulders, she would have thought he’d left
the room. She searched her memory, frantically trying to connect
his voice with a face, an incident.

It came back to her in a startling rush. The
sensual curve of his lips and the shimmer of his emerald gaze
visible through the eye holes in his mask. This was Paul’s teacher.
Pleasure Master Nine! Did he remember her? It had been so long ago.
A slow heated pulse expanded within her, intensifying until she bit
her lip to keep from groaning. He wasn’t just a Master, he taught
the others, trained the trainers. Danette could scarcely
breathe.

“Where did you receive your training?”

“We both know where we met and why people go
there.”

He stroked the side of her face, tracing her
full lower lip with his thumb. “How old are you?” His voice was
hushed, speculative. “I don’t see how we could have been there at
the same time.”

“I was nineteen when my training began.”

Sorrow choked her.
Paul.
Her heart
cried out his name. Even after three and a half years she mourned
his loss. She missed his easy smile and flashing eyes. But even
more than the man himself, she longed for the security of his
aggressive embrace and the unbridled passion she’d only known as
his willing slave.

In her youth Danette had enjoyed a
freedom—no, that wasn’t true, she hadn’t enjoyed her freedom any
more than she enjoyed the regimented structure her father forced
upon her now. As a teen she’d been allowed to go wherever she
wished—with her entourage of course—and anything she showed the
least interest in had been immediately provided for her. But none
of the excess had meant anything to her. She longed for her
father’s approval and grew more desperate for her parents’
attention, so she began to misbehave.

Her rebellions were subtle at first, a
conflict with a tutor, outrageous behavior in a public place.
Danette’s mother was the most non-confrontational person Danette
had ever known, so discipline was left entirely to her father. At
first he made excuses for her antics. Then he ignored them
completely, insisting that it was just a phase she was going
through. So Danette grew bolder, her misbehaviors more
shocking.

On the surface, submitting to a Pleasure
Master simply fulfilled her need for structure. But Paul had taught
her how to trust, how to lose herself completely in their shared
pleasure. He had also strengthened her confidence and helped
restore her self-esteem. Their sessions had been so much more than
sexual.

Then eight months after she’d agreed to
serve Paul, her father
rescued
her from Paul’s
perversion
by dispatching him on a mission he couldn’t
possibly survive.

A sob escaped Danette and she covered her
face with her hands. Pleasure Master Nine joined her on the bunk.
Lying on his side, he pulled her against him and wrapped his arms
around her back.

“Why are you crying? Tell me now.” His tone
brooked no refusal.

“I can’t.”

“You will.”

She trembled. This was her opportunity. All
she had to do was object and he’d be obligated to punish her, to
take control of her aching body and give her some relief from the
nightmare that was her life. Her nipples hardened and her pussy
clenched. No one had touched her since Paul. Her father wouldn’t
let her near a Master and she didn’t want anyone else.