[The Onic Empire 03] - Sinful Harvest (14 page)

But hopefully, it wasn’t too late now.

“Chur risked his life to change the Harvest ritual back to the original form, and here you come, destroying it because you can’t keep your cock in your loincloth for a paltry cycle.” Sterlave leaned over the cage, placing his mouth fractionally closer to Kerrick’s ear. “Do you know that before, a Harvester went the entire season without knowing the feel of a woman?”

Shock made Kerrick’s eyes bulge. A whole season without sex would have made him mad with lust. Even his own hand simply wouldn’t be able to pacify his passionate needs. “Wait, you mean you and Chur went a season without …”

With a laugh that was more a bark, Sterlave said, “Not me, because I knew exactly who I was going to choose when I became the Harvester.” Sterlave’s voice softened and became almost dreamy. “I challenged Chur to the death for her, so when I came to take her as my sacrifice, I claimed her as my bond-mate.”

Kerrick didn’t need to see him to know Sterlave’s face was a curious combination of pride, lust, and wry amusement. The tale about the passionate and rocky romance between Sterlave and the former empress Kasmiri was almost legendary despite the fact it had only started shortly after Kerrick became the Harvester.

“But if it was a fight to the death, then how are you and Chur still alive?” Kerrick asked, desperately trying to latch his
attention on to anything other than his current precarious position.

“Again with your gossip!” Sterlave yelled, whacking the palm of his hand to the cage. The metal shook with the force of the blow, causing Kerrick’s teeth to rattle in his head. “I have never known a man who cared so much for idle talk as you.”

Chagrined, Kerrick clamped his lips together. Sterlave was right; now was not the time. “What will happen to Ariss?”

After a long pause, Sterlave said, “It speaks to your true character that you ask after her first, rather than yourself.” Another long pause ensued, then Sterlave asked, “Are you in love with her?”

Kerrick did not want to speculate on that answer, not naked with his ass in the air, so he countered with a stern, “Now who wishes to engage in idle chatter?” But Kerrick knew that once the question had been placed in his mind, he would worry over it endlessly. Especially after the way she’d come to him, and he’d thought Fana had been under that robe, and he’d immediately said no to sex with Fana, preferring instead to wait for Ariss. Not once in his life had he turned down a willing woman for another. But that didn’t mean it was love. Infatuation, fascination, even obsession, but not necessarily love.

“I do not know what punishment Ariss will suffer for her part, for each of you has violated the prophecy.” Sterlave moved away from the cage, his steps crunching through the scattered seeds. Just hearing them
pop
below the thick hide of his boots reminded Kerrick of how they dug into his knees and forehead like tiny, dull swords.

Violating a prophecy didn’t sound like a good thing at all. Kerrick guessed he should be grateful that they didn’t simply kill him. A thousand thoughts collided in his mind, none of them good. If they’d put him in this
gannett,
surely they would do something similar to Ariss. Gods forbid, they did something worse.

Panic caused Kerrick to blurt, “It wasn’t her choice.” He hesitated, thinking what else he could say to take the blame off Ariss and onto himself. “I made her have sex with me.” He gulped hard, and added, “I forced her against her will. I don’t think she should be punished for what I did.” It was a lie, but he didn’t care. Kerrick couldn’t bear the thought of Ariss being punished. Something inside twisted and almost died with the thought that they would allow others to rape her as they clearly allowed with him. His thoughts became a nightmarish swirl of horror that he would do anything to prevent. He would willingly let every recruit use him to avoid even one using her.

With a groaning sigh, Sterlave said, “And now you think that you can take her punishment by taking all the blame on yourself.” Sterlave paced in front of the cage, his crunching boots telling Kerrick where he was in relation to his bound form. “You
must
love her.”

Irritated that Sterlave insisted on returning to that, Kerrick bellowed, “I don’t want her hurt.”

Behind him a voice speculatively asked, “Would you take her punishment?” Commanding, and inarguably in charge, Kerrick knew without confirmation that Chur had entered.

His footfalls were almost silent, only the fact that Kerrick’s head was pressed into the floor allowed him to hear the soft padding of Chur’s bare feet. He’d only seen the man in passing, his eyes caught by the fact that Chur literally glowed golden just below his skin. Chur’s intense azure eyes could hold anyone, male or female, effortlessly in thrall. They said he was a demigod, sent from
Jarasine
to bring Diola back to the righteous path they’d abandoned thousands of seasons ago. All Ker-rick knew for certain was the man was huge. Thick muscles bulged all over his body. It was difficult to miss the perfection of the man’s form since he paraded around in a low-slung loincloth. Damn it all to the nothingness, but even the man’s cock seemed to have muscles. For some unknown reason, Kerrick
had stared openly at Chur’s crotch, amazed and shocked by the tremendous bulge below the black
astle.
When Chur caught him looking, he lifted one eyebrow, but Kerrick didn’t know if it was in invitation or mockery. It did, however, cause him to jerk his gaze elsewhere.

“I am willing to take her punishment because she didn’t do anything wrong.” Kerrick closed his eyes against the red flush of embarrassment. There was nothing like meeting a demigod in such a demeaning way. Clearly, he was doomed to forever be doing something idiotic around Chur. Kerrick would offer out his hand in friendship, as they did on Tandth, but it was tied behind his back at the moment. Well, at least he was on his knees in obeisance. And with his head held immobile, he wouldn’t be able to ogle the man’s bulge.

Chur’s steps stopped on the right side of the
gannett.
A moment later, Kerrick heard his voice almost right beside his ear. “Tell me, Kerrick, how did you force Ariss to come to your room clad in a
paratanist’s
robe?”

Kerrick’s mouth went dry. Lying to a demigod was obviously one of the more foolish things he’d ever done. Again, he acted without thinking beyond the immediate outcome. “I—I—” he stuttered, trying to think of a plausible explanation.

Chur’s laugh rumbled like a landslide, rich and powerful, with a most dangerous edge. “I would suggest that you stop lying to me.” Lowering his voice, he added, “For you see I already know the truth.”

Kerrick heard seeds being brushed away and realized Chur settled in beside his cage.

“Becoming the Harvester wasn’t at all what you thought it would be.”

It was a comment, not a question, but Kerrick answered anyway. “Not at all.” He’d never been so disappointed and shocked by the truth of anything. All the glorious tales were nothing but fancy lies to garner recruits.

“If you were given an option to walk away, unharmed, without any further punishment than what you have already suffered, would you take that opportunity?”

On the verge of saying yes, Kerrick held his tongue. He had to consider the likely outcome of such a generous offer. Here was a chance to leave the palace forever. He could finagle his way off planet and never step foot on Diola again. And all he had to do was simply walk away. From everything. Including Ariss.

“What will become—”

“I cannot tell you what will become of Ariss, so do not ask. She will face her own punishment, and perhaps she will be given a choice such as you are being given, but I doubt that very much.” Chur sighed, conveying a genuine regret. “There is one who will refuse to let her go.” Chur lowered his voice. “You see, Kerrick, there is a man who will do anything to possess Ariss. He even spoke at your Esslean tribunal, calling for your execution.”

Kerrick wasn’t surprised to learn that killing him had been an option. He didn’t know what an Esslean tribunal was, but it didn’t matter right now. Hesitantly, Kerrick asked, “Who is this man?”

“The man whose job you covet so greatly.”

Kerrick didn’t bother to ask how Chur knew, all he could do was blurt, “Ambo Votny wants Ariss?” Kerrick’s voice was too loud against the metal, causing it to vibrate dully. He lowered his voice. “He is three times her age.” As if that would make the man wake up and see reason. Kerrick’s numb cock shriveled at the thought of Ariss with that ancient, blubbery excuse for a man. In his mind’s eye, he saw Ambo flushed and sweaty from his several trips from the training rooms to the Harvest room. What would he be like looming over Ariss?

“So, do you still wish to simply walk away?”

A
riss screamed out a warning when she saw four guards rushing toward Kerrick, but he was so deep in passion that he didn’t hear her. Two of the monstrous men grasped his shoulders, pulling him to his feet and out of her body with a violence that scraped the walls of her sex. Blind with panic, she reached for him, but they contained him so quickly she could do nothing. Before Kerrick could even think of fighting back, they had bound his hands and smacked him on the back of his head, knocking him senseless.

Trembling in shock and fear, terrified at the reason for their invasion of his privacy, Ariss clambered onto the bed, trying to get as far from the guards as she could. While two guards dragged Kerrick’s limp form away, the remaining two followed her with their eyes, their expressions blank and unreadable.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, already knowing she wasn’t going to get an answer. Just as she predicted, they stood mute, watching her with intense eyes that missed little.

The smell of lust filled the room like an accusation, exposing Ariss for the wanton woman she’d become. How had they even
known what was going on behind the heavy Onic door? She and Kerrick hadn’t been that loud … or had they? When she’d snuck along the hallway to Kerrick’s room, his four guards had been at the far end of the hall, not right next to his door. Surely, they hadn’t been able to hear her passionate cries that far away.

“Where will they take him?” Ambo asked another guard who entered the room beside him.

“They’ve convened an Esslean tribunal.”

“As if a collection of recruits can pass judgment.” Ambo halted midstride. His deep-set eyes widened slightly when they alighted on her, then narrowed with glittering appraisal. His gaze swept over her body, from her toes to the pebbled tips of her breasts. To her dread, his probing glare was almost physical. She practically felt his doughy hands following the trail of his vision, mauling her, forcing her to mold her body to his depraved desires. Even though she was nude, the sheet seemed terribly far away, crumpled up at the foot of the bed where she’d drug all the bedclothes in her passion. She was still too shocked to grab the sheet to cover herself.

The three guards in the room also looked at her, but not with the feverish perversion of Ambo. In his eyes lurked a darkness that no amount of light, not even the blazing power of the twin suns, could banish. Evil swarmed over his features, causing her to thank the gods that three other men were in the room to protect her from the fourth. Ambo was seventy seasons, but he possessed a strength that Ariss didn’t know she could fight off. If he were determined to have her, she feared he would no matter what. Her only option would be to outrun him.

Licking his lips, Ambo turned to the guard without taking his eyes off her, and said, “Tell them I wish to address the tribunal.”

The guard executed a modified bow and left. Now there were only two men to protect her from Ambo. Each man towered
over him, their muscles thick and clearly defined by the mostly bare-chested nature of their uniforms. Short loinclothlike garments fastened about their hips exposed legs of hardened flesh. Tooled animal-hide cupped each man’s left shoulder, crossing over the plate centered on his chest. A heavy belt held a short sword and other items Ariss could only assume were weapons.

Now that the initial surprise had faded, Ariss lunged down the bed, yanked the sheet from the clump of fabric, and wrapped the black
astle
about her body. Heat reflected back from the fabric, warming her. Protected by even this thin shell, she felt more confident. She lifted her shoulders and chin, refusing to cower under Ambo’s intense scrutiny.

A snarl darted across Ambo’s face that she’d defied him by covering herself up when he clearly wasn’t done violating her with his gaze. His piercing eyes finally left her only to fall on the discarded
paratanist
robe. Lips peeling back in disgust, he waddled over to the pile of
mondi
fabric and yanked it off the edge of the bed.

“Is this how you came to him?” Ambo shook a fistful of the robe at her in accusation. “Dressed like a servant so you could be his willing
yondie
?”

Lifting herself to her knees with the dignity of an empress, Ariss responded, “I am no man’s paid woman.” She desperately wanted to add,
not even yours,
but held her tongue. The only way she’d be able to evade his clutches was to succeed in her duty. Sadly, Kerrick hadn’t climaxed before they’d been interrupted.

“No?” Ambo stood at the foot of the bed, his face flushed with righteous anger. “I have never met a woman more eager to be mounted by an animal than you are.”

His vulgar words shocked her, compelling a rude comment in turn, but she cautioned herself. Tilting her head, Ariss asked,
“You, who by law should uphold the prophecy, call the Harvester an animal?”

A small show of fear darted across Ambo’s face as he considered the two remaining guards. Unreadable, they stood in silent witness to the exchange unfolding before them. Knowing they would keep their tongues, Ambo’s eyes turned cold, his smile brutal and filled with malice. “You, who by all accounts has defied the prophecy, seek to condemn
me
?”

Appalled, Ariss sputtered, “How—how have I defied the prophecy?” She’d only been doing what her position demanded. “By my duty I am to mate with Kerrick.”

Lips pursed as if to hold back an explosion of disgust, Ambo bellowed, “You are to mate with him only on the eve of the new cycle!” His gaze slid from her face to her neck. Triumphantly, he grinned. In that moment, she knew the stone was still black. Mockingly, Ambo snarled, “It seems the Harvester is much less a man than he appears.”

One of the guards betrayed himself when the smallest ripple of anger scrunched up the end of his nose. Ire surfaced and disappeared so quickly Ariss wasn’t sure she’d seen anything at all. However, her instinct was that he did not like to hear denigrating comments about the man he was sworn to protect. Even the mighty magistrate should show a measure of respect to the Harvester.

On the verge of telling Ambo that Kerrick was more a man than he would ever be, she held back. Antagonizing Ambo served no purpose. At the moment, he held her life, and probably Kerrick’s life, in his hands. To survive, she had to find a way to appease him, and to avoid being alone with him, for if he got her unaccompanied … She didn’t like what she had to do, but she saw no other choice.

Dropping her head in what she hoped was a show of submission, Ariss slumped her shoulders as if her entire world
were lost. Through the thick net of her lashes, she peered up at Ambo to see if her ploy was working. When a greedy smile split his greasy lips, she knew she was on the right path. Holding dominion over others was what Ambo craved. Not being in the right so much as having power over anyone who dared to cross his path. That, that supremacy, the command of others, was what Ambo’s ego craved.

“I beg the forgiveness of the gods,” Ariss said, lifting her face up to the light and spreading her arms wide. The black sheet slipped a bit, exposing the very edge of her areolas. She made no effort to yank the fabric back because the subtlest hints of her body riveted Ambo’s attention. Distracting him was her goal, and the one thing that always caught his attention was her body. In particular, her breasts.

Just as she predicted, Ambo’s face went slack as his eyes fell upon the promise of her breasts’ eventual exposure.

Determined to escape him, she knelt on the bed, letting her voice rise and fall in prayer to Varnatha, the goddess of the Harvesters. Prostrating herself, Ariss stretched her arms out before her as if she knelt before the goddess herself. Surreptitiously she glanced up at the three men before her; the guard who showed the flicker of anger at Ambo’s denigrating comments had fallen to his knees, his head bent in prayer. The other guard stood but lowered his head respectfully. Nonplussed, Ambo stood glaring at both of them. Ultimately, he riveted his blazing gaze on her.

From her lowered face, she watched Ambo’s lips quiver as he struggled to find something to say. He would have stopped her if he could, but as things stood, he couldn’t. Manhandling the condemned as they sought the forgiveness of the gods was something even Ambo would not do.

When another guard entered to take Ambo to the tribunal, he issued a hasty order to the standing guard and departed.
Ariss stopped her prayers once he left and allowed the guards to take her from Kerrick’s room.

To her surprise, they returned her to her suite. Inside, her
paratanist
stood waiting, a bundle of black cloth over his arm. Silently, he unwound the sheet from her and ushered her into the tub, where he proceeded to scrub her vigorously, as if he could scour the lust off her body. When her skin glowed pink, he dried, anointed, and perfumed her, as if readying her for the most exquisite celebration. Her heart sank when she thought he readied her for sacrifice. Would they ritualistically kill her for the gods she had so blatantly defied?

He proceeded to dress her in a curious black outfit. In the front, the fabric covered the length of her legs, but in the back, it barely swept the edge of her bottom. Worst of all were the twin curves of metal that imprisoned and lifted her breasts, leaving them completely exposed. Two straps rose over her shoulders, but there was no fabric to cover her chest.

“What do I wear over this?” Ariss asked her
paratanist,
covering her breasts with her hands.

Gently, he pulled her hands away. “Nothing.”

Now she realized that was the point of the clothing, to leave her vulnerable and exposed. She settled at her mirror, allowing her servant to fashion her hair into a twist at the back of her head. Fastidiously, he set small white gemstones through her hair and along her cheeks, enhancing her gray eyes. The more he fussed over her appearance, the more her spirit plummeted. He was preparing her for execution. There was no doubt in her mind. He only confirmed her worst fears when he refused to answer her questions.

Numb, Ariss sat, wondering what would happen to Kerrick. If she could, she would take everything back. Had she known, she never would have risked both their lives to share his bed. In her effort to thwart her parents’ wishes, she’d brought death to
her and an innocent man. A man she only now acknowledged how much she cared about.

A lone tear escaped, and her
paratanist
wiped it away without comment, and without disturbing his carefully applied makeup. She cried not for herself, but for Kerrick. A wry laugh burbled up, because he’d wanted to turn her into a bad girl, and she’d far exceeded his wildest expectations.

“I’m so naughty I got us both killed.”

Her servant ignored her remark. Lifting his hand, he pointed toward the door. Ariss stood. When she caught sight of herself in the mirror, slumping, she forced herself to stand straight. She would go to her death with pride. If she had the chance, she would plead for Kerrick’s life.

In the hall, six guards, her normal four and the two from Kerrick’s room, waited to escort her to her doom. Silently, two led the way as another two flanked her and two trailed behind. There was no escape. Her prominently displayed breasts did not distract them, so she didn’t even consider running. She would only destroy her
paratanist
’s hard work and go to her death frazzled. Lifting her head a bit higher, she vowed to go to her execution with her pride intact. Whatever they would do to her, she would not give them the satisfaction of her fear.

After a time, they arrived at the temple, confirming her worst suspicion. Two white-clad acolytes held open the thick fabric drapes. Ariss entered. Behind her, the fabric fluttered closed with a soft
whump,
leaving her alone with a semicircle of male acolytes. Azure lighting crystals caused their white robes to glow and their faces to become frightening creations out of her nightmares. Cloyingly sweet herbs drifted in ribbons of smoke, making her dizzy. She tried to hold her breath, but that only made matters worse. When she gasped, she drew in huge amounts of smoke. In the end, she breathed in shallow pants.

The semicircle of acolytes parted, leading her gaze to a wall of blackness. Hesitantly, she stepped forward, terrified of what
waited for her in the dark. Desperately, she widened and narrowed her eyes, trying to discern a shape out of the abyss, but she couldn’t recognize anything. Her heart pounded so hard in her chest that she thought all those around her could hear it. Drums, far off in the distance, began to beat halftime to her heart, forcing it to slow. Something about the pounding of the drums and the smoke in the air relaxed her, culling calmness from her panicked mind and body. To her shock, she yawned.

With light steps, Ariss moved farther into the shadowy depths of the temple. She’d only been here once, for her inauguration, and everything was so overwhelming she’d hardly noticed the specifics of the place. Lifting her arm, she held it before her to feel for the wall, if there was one. For all she knew they maneuvered her toward a well that would plummet her to the bottom of the palace.

A blast of cold air hit her, tightening her exposed nipples almost painfully. Still, she didn’t stop, just slowed her pace a bit as she continued reaching for the wall. After another few steps, a lighting crystal of pure white exploded into brilliance above her head, causing her to flinch back and shield her eyes. What she saw dropped her mouth open.

Carved of pure black Onic stone, the god of the Harvesters crouched, forming himself into the shape of a rough chair. His thick thighs formed the seat, his arms the sides as he clasped his hands around his knees. His handsome face leered suggestively. When she looked down, she realized why. Protruding from his hips was a thick stone phallus. How had she missed that when the lighting crystal struck it fully, the glow slipping over the smoothly polished stone like a caress?

Silently, two acolytes grasped her arms, turning her back on the grotesque statue. Now the cut of her dress became clear. As they forced her back, she struggled, but they were ready, clamping their hands around her wrists and upper arms with the power of ten men. Never had she known such relentless
strength. Four more acolytes came forward, grasping her ankles, her knees, and her thighs.