Royal Obsession (4 page)

“We’re either dealing with a new kind of shield suit or a group of rogue Mystics.” Trey turned to the younger men. “Would either of you care to venture a guess?”

“I have no idea how they got in, but they teleported out,” Lor explained. “They were manipulating some kind of magic.”

“Who would want the twins? Why?” The queen in Charlotte knew they were useless questions, but the mother in her had to ask.

“I can only think of one group brazen enough to attempt this, but they haven’t been active in so many cycles we’d begun to think they’d disbanded.” Trey glanced away from her as the implication sank in.

She licked her lips and pressed her hand to her throat. “Shadow Assassins prey on the weak and unprotected. They only ‘hunt’ in remote settlements. They’re cowards who…”

“Appear and disappear like ghosts.” Trey put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We have to consider every possibility.”

Tal cupped the side of her face and raised her gaze to his. “I’ll convene a Seeker Circle. We will trace E’Lanna’s signal back to the source. I don’t care who took them, my love. We will get our daughters back.”

* * * * *

Varrik caressed Echo’s soft skin, fascinated by the warmth and the fine texture. Two types of women were brought to the Shadow Maze. Young, healthy females who were claimed by one man for the purpose of procreation, and sexually experienced women who were offered wealth in exchange for their services. Until this moment, Varrik had only been with pleasure givers.

Heat curled through his belly and lodged between his thighs as he moved to face her. After the tragedy surrounding his brother, Varrik had sworn never to take a mate. Then Bemzire—Varrik wouldn’t think about them tonight. He would concentrate on Echo.

She held the front of her gown against her breasts, her fingers clutching the material with white-knuckled determination.

“You can allow me to remove the gown, or I’ll cut it off you once you’re bound. The choice is yours.” The blackest part of his jaded soul hoped she’d refuse. Resistance would make her eventual surrender even sweeter.

“I’ll do nothing for your pleasure.” Defiance unfurled within her gaze, but her lips trembled. “Is it really easier to breed with captive women than to produce children the conventional way?” Her tone held both curiosity and challenge.

He chuckled. Stubborn, smart, beautiful, she would give him magnificent sons. Sons? She would give him a magnificent
son
and then she would be released. “Conventional practices on Ontariese are often considered unusual by others. Are your parents life mates, or were you conceived during a social alliance?”

“They’re life mates.” She seemed confused by his sudden interest in conversation, which was exactly what he intended. Distract her with debate, ease past her defenses, then capture her imagination. “Even a social alliance is entered into willingly by both parties.”

“The social alliance was adopted at the height of the Great Conflict when the House of Joon released a virus that wiped out two-thirds of Ontarian females. Is that correct?”

She watched him closely, her expression wary yet thoughtful. “You should know more about it than I do. Shadow Assassins were the henchmen for the House of Joon. My grandmother was murdered by one of your—”

“I was born after the atrocity, as were you.” He stepped closer, resisting his need to touch her. Let her read the hunger in his eyes. Let her know nothing would control him. “The virus left us with nearly one hundred men for every woman.”

“The ratio is much lower now.”

He scoffed. “Only because vast numbers of Ontarian males have abandoned the planet and we have bought alien women for those who remained.”

“Bought?” Objection made her tone brittle. “My mother has meticulously negotiated
mutually
beneficial treaties with several neighboring planets. Programs have been established to encourage females to settle on Ontariese and—”

“Breed with our men. Yes, I know. They’re expected to form a social alliance within a month of their arrival.”

“The social alliance is and has always been for the protection of females.”

“Who controls the alliance?” He lifted a lock of her hair and studied the soft strand. The tress curled around his finger in a perfect spiral, golden highlights gleaming.

“It’s not a matter of control. Either party can propose the alliance, but the female must declare it valid.”

“Then females control the alliance.” Fanning the end of the strand, he brushed her neck, her shoulders, and the upper curve of her breasts. She stood perfectly still, the tension in her stance the only hint of her anxiety. “When each man is competing with so many others, what hope does he have of attracting the attention of a female?”

“So you kidnap them and hold them prisoner—”

“Every person on this planet is prisoner to the Great Conflict. The war itself might be over, but its legacies live on.” He released her hair and repeated the teasing path with the tip of his finger. “Some men choose to run. We choose to stay and fight. Our Customs are not that dissimilar from the social alliance. They are both temporary relationships established for the purpose of creating offspring. The conditions on Ontariese—”

“You’re not Ontarian. You’re Rodyte.”

“I’ve never been to Rodymia. I was born in the Shadow Maze of an Ontarian captive. Ontariese is my home.”

“But your father was obviously Rodyte.”

“Why is that important?”

“I’m just trying to understand why a man with intelligence and ambition would choose this way of life.” Twisting away from his touch, she took a step back and collided with the edge of the chair.

An insult wrapped in flattery. Were all captives this amusing? “I didn’t choose this life; I was born into it.”

“Would you leave the Shadow Maze if you could?” She raised her delicate eyebrows.

“I leave the Shadow Maze whenever there’s a need. I’m not the prisoner. You are.” He was every bit as much a prisoner as she, but he would never admit it to her. He’d indulged her curiosity long enough. There was nothing more he could say to put her at ease. Tracing a path down her arm, he slipped his fingers around her wrist. “How old are you?”

“Why?”

“You’re rather old to be a virgin.” She resisted his attempt to lower her hand, so he continued to stroke her upper chest and the slope of her shoulders. “Your sister managed to find a lover. Why haven’t you?” He watched her eyes, waiting for her reaction to his touch as well as his question.

She lowered her long lashes, hiding her gaze from him. “My sister’s lover is one of our bodyguards. It’s difficult to—”

“Indulge your curiosity?” he suggested.

“When you’re never left alone with a man.” Her lashes rose, but her eyes were shuttered now, all emotion carefully hidden.

“We’re alone, and I assure you, I’m a man.” She looked at his lips. Good. He had that fertile imagination working again. “Did I witness your first kiss?”

She didn’t answer.

“I interrupted just when things were getting interesting.” He slid his fingers along her jaw and traced her lips with his thumb. Her eyes widened then narrowed as he bent to kiss her. Reining in his hunger, his need to dominate, he brushed his lips against hers. For a long moment her mouth was pliant yet unresponsive. Then her breath hissed out, and she parted her lips.

He deepened the kiss, curling his tongue around hers, drawing her breath into his lungs as their lips slid. Her murmurs urged him on, fueled his simmering desire. She swayed against him, her hands still clutching her dress. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he pulled her against him, aligning their bodies as he possessed her mouth.

She touched his tongue and encouraged his penetration, but she’d yet to venture into his mouth. Easing back, he whispered, “Come to me now. Kiss me like I was kissing you.” Before she could debate the right or wrong of his directive, he kissed her again. Her tongue was tentative at first. He sucked her deeper into his mouth and she groaned.

Distracting her with slow, drugged kisses, he eased her arms up and wrapped them around his neck. The front of her dress was stiff with a combination of embroidery and support strips. He tugged on the skirt, easing it past her hips. The gown pooled around her legs. Finally!

He pressed her against his chest and rubbed her back, hesitating over his next move. He could spread her out on his bed or restrain her between the tall, thick poles cleverly designed into the bed frame. The vertical position would give him access to her entire body. He shook away the thought. She had to accept the basics before he introduced anything exotic.

He lifted her into his arms and carried her across the room. She dragged her mouth away from his and made a distressed sound when she realized their destination.

“You don’t have to do this. There are other, better, ways to—”

“We’ll explore those later.” He placed her in the middle of the bed and slipped off her shoes. Her legs were long and shapely, encased in sheer purple stockings. He only glanced at the scrap of lace covering her mound, not trusting himself with more. He would know every inch of her supple body before this night was through. Still, he had to give her time to accept the inevitability of their joining. He reached for the wrist cuffs attached to the stout headboard.

“Wait a minute!” He guided her hand toward the cuff, and she started tugging, hard. “I don’t want to be restrained. Why is
this
necessary?”

He closed the cuff around her wrist and activated the lock with a mental command, then reached for her other hand. There was enough slack in the chain to allow for numerous positions or he could tighten the chain with his mind. She jerked her hand out of his and kicked him in the chest.

Anticipation thrummed through his blood, making his heart pound. He had to feel her spread out beneath him. That much wouldn’t wait. Tugging off his boots, he crawled onto the bed. With a few insistent movements he had her on her back, with her arms above her head. She twisted and screamed as he closed the cuff around her other wrist and tightened the chain.

He propped himself on his forearms, keeping his chest away from her breasts, while his pelvis pressed into the juncture of her thighs. She yanked against the cuffs and glared at him, her legs pinned beneath his. Using his knees like a wedge, he pried her legs apart and settled between them.

“I suspected you wouldn’t stay passive for long. Now, stop pulling on the cuffs or you’ll bruise your wrists.”

“You are so vile I’ll have to make up words to describe you.”

He wanted to savor her spirit, nurture her passion, but first she had to accept her new role in life. “Did I become vile while I was kissing you or only after I restrained you?” She had responded well before. Perhaps he had abandoned seduction too quickly.

“You’re a pile of steaming
tihs god!
”

“That’s just ‘dog shit’ backward. You can do better than that.” He cupped her breast to give her inspiration.

“You’re a fucking pervert!”

“Those words aren’t even made up.” With a throaty chuckle, he scooted down, dragging his erection against her mound. Her breasts rose and fell rapidly. Each panting breath made the soft flesh quiver. Stars, she was beautiful.

“Relax. Let me guide you, show you all the pleasure awaiting you.” He closed his lips around one rosy crest while he rolled the other with his fingers. Her nipples hardened and her skin flushed. Pleased by her responsiveness, he switched sides, sucking firmly while he coaxed her still damp nipple into a harder peak.

Her struggles gradually ceased. He stroked her breasts, rubbing his face against her incredibly soft skin as he continued to play with her nipples.

If he slipped his fingers between her thighs, would he find her wet already? He rocked back, reluctantly releasing her nipple. The terror in her gaze drew him up short. Tears trailed from the corners of her eyes, and the stubborn press of her lips didn’t disguise their trembling.

“Echo, I’m not going to hurt you. I…”

What the hell was he saying? He had no choice but to hurt her if he wanted a son. He stared into her tormented eyes until she looked away. Passion drained from his body, leaving a lump of icy dread. How could he continue, knowing she despised him? The pleasure givers had all been willing, not always eager, but at least willing.

With an exasperated sigh, he crawled off the bed and grabbed his boots. He tossed the sheet over her half-naked body and stormed from the room.

* * * * *

Varrik tapped on Aila’s open door, a courtesy few offered the pleasure giver. If her door was open, she was available. If her door was closed, she was with someone. She looked up from her book at the tapping and smiled. Each spring Aila was offered the option of having her memory erased and returning to the world above. Each spring she agreed to remain in the Shadow Maze.

She’d been a beautiful woman before tragedy wrote its story across her face. The fire that had claimed her beauty had also stolen the lives of her life mate and their two children. Though the scars had faded considerably in the eleven cycles since she’d come to the Shadow Maze, most of the men only visited her if none of the other pleasure givers were available.