Urden, God of Desire (14 page)

Lensi nodded. She went silent as the shuttle took off and hovered over the open ocean, gaining speed. Sima kept staring at Leuj every so often, but he never looked her way.

Chapter Eighteen

The Haze

The blur shrouded her visions of her mother. Melia knew they were dreams, only images of her past, but the most disturbing realization for her was the scent of Enrue’s cologne and the deeper, seductive flavor of his skin tingling in her nostrils. She breathed in and squinted. Something warm cradled her as she drifted in the drug-induced stupor. Fingers curled in her hair, combing through tangles, smoothing away all the darkness and pulling her toward a gray light.

She reached for the luminance with shaking hands, her mantra repeating not to tell, never to reveal her orders or any clue about what the Empire’s next move might be. She hadn’t cracked. The hunched, bald man who interrogated her earlier had
left,
his warbling tirade of a voice gone. She’d won the first round against him, but she knew there would be more.

“Enrue,” she whispered, remembering how close she’d been to killing the Shiemir. A deeper pull, a single, crunching drive of a blade into his throat would have ended him…then he’d traced her lips, asked her to say his name again.
Madness.
The fog before her rippled.
Someone snored nearby. Metal rattled. The AC chilled her. Melia struggled to reach consciousness and failed.

Soon.

Hours later, she felt the effects of the serum wearing thin. Thirst haunted her. Through the haze, she inhaled the soft, masculine scent near her face.
Still here.
Still with me.
To kiss him, to hold him to her naked skin…her mind reeled at the possibility. Her body awakened. Nipples peaked. Skin prickled. Heat raced through her.

Melia opened her eyes.

The first thing she saw was her hands resting on her chest. Links of chain hung slack from the shackles she wore, the lead streaming up to the reaches of the ceiling. She blinked, angry over the dryness of her eyes. The second thing she saw was a man’s silk clothed chest. Her heart picked up speed. She turned her face to the side, burying her nose in his shirt. His stomach pressed against her forehead in contained pulses…like the haze…in and out, in and out. Her eyes slipped closed.
 
She fought the gray. It thickened all around her mind, fuzzing up her thoughts.

She forced her eyes to open.

With both hands bound together, she reached up to touch his chest, unsure if he was real. He mumbled in his sleep. Instinct kicked in.
Put your arms around his neck. Use the shackles to suffocate him to death.

“No,” she said to herself, her words not totally controlled. It seemed the aftereffects of the truth serum lingered.

Unsteady and weak, she sat up. Pain lanced the side of her head. She winced, but struggled, and finally stood. Taking a few steps, Melia hurried to sit down on the cot a little ways away from the Shiemir. It made no sense for him to be here. She stared at him a long while. His face bore the traditional shape of Tarafians, strong, a firm jaw and a slightly rounded nose. Stray strands of brown hair hung over his closed eyes as they rolled behind his eyelids.
Dreaming.
What does my enemy see when he sleeps?

Suffocate him.

“No. I can’t!” Her voice reverberated in the cell. She didn’t remember how she came to be here, only that she’d failed in her mission. Glancing around, she wondered what had happened to her data sharer, not that they could pick it.
Can they?

The Shiemir’s belt lay beside him, a crumpled silver patch of fabric. Melia scooted closer to him, curious. She nudged him with her shoulder.
“Enrue.”

His head turned to one side. He opened his eyes a crack, locking on her. “How do you feel?” he asked, laying a hand on her knee.

Heat spread through her. His touch affected her in ways she thought impossible. She wanted to curl against him and let him hold her. He made her feel vulnerable, and she almost liked it, almost wanted to trust him. Trying to narrow her eyes, she said, “I feel like shit. What do you expect?”

His hand ran side to side across her leg. “I’m sorry. You have to do what you have to do, and so do I.”

She stared at the scar on his neck. The line she’d drawn there had been surgically fused shut, a reminder of her failure. “You don’t have to be in my cell.” She didn’t think she would resist him if he leaned closer, if he parted his firm lips and tried to—

“I know.” He removed his hand.

She held her breath.

“I watched him to be sure you were not harmed.” He raised his hand slowly, as if preparing to pet a feral animal. Fingers drew small circles on her cheek, slow, teasing marks until his palm warmed her skin. “I should leave before Jorin arrives. He wouldn’t understand this.” Enrue started to pull away.

“This…what?”
She caught the pad of his thumb against her lips and kissed half-heartedly, unable to control the urge and cursing the drugs for making her so weak.

“Whatever this is between us.”
He lowered his face to hers, his hazel eyes seeking answers. Gradually, he bridged the distance. His lips touched hers, tentative and unlike his usual brash manner. “Melia,” he murmured across her mouth.

”Kill him!”
a voice raged in her mind.

She closed her eyes and parted her lips to taste him. Their tongues touched, only the tips, a sweet, slow dance. Fingers sought purchase. He gripped the back of her head and drew her in. Fire raged in her womb. A twisting desire built between her legs. She placed her hands on his chest and tugged at his shirt, wishing she had her freedom. She wanted him. She kissed him harder, little moans escaping her mouth whenever he parted to take a deep breath. The last haze of the drugs faded. When he broke their kiss, she raised her arms and slipped them over his head.

If any time was the right time to assassinate the Shiemir, now was it. She’d choked hits before and watched their eyes widen, their faces contorting with pain and shock. As she kissed his upper lip and then his lower, she knew she couldn’t kill him…yet. But the time would come and she still thought she could do it.

The little sounds around them she would normally focus on faded away. Each slide of fabric, each sharp intake of breath he made, and even the slight groan of ecstasy Enrue voiced when she straddled his lap and urged her pelvis against his, drew her closer to him. He had become the center of everything.

“I want to make love to you in my room,” he blurted.

She liked his idea, but doubted he’d go through with it. “What about your interrogator? He might notice my absence.” If he took her from her cell, her chance of escape was only a small matter of time.

“I can’t watch you go through it a second time. This is not my way, Melia.” He touched her face, his fingers soothing.

She forced a laugh. “He can’t break me. You don’t know what I went through in training. You underestimate me.”

He shook his head, his eyes lowering to her chest. “No. I fear it is you who underestimates me.” He focused on her face, his mouth a grim, straight line. He regarded her for a time, as if he was weighing something, some massive decision. “You killed Wyther. Was it like this? Did you draw him close with your beauty and cut his throat as you tried to do to me?”

The general’s face haunted her in that moment. “Yes,” she confessed. “I did.”

“And you’ll kill me as well when you feel the time is right.”

She wanted to lie and tell him no. Something told her he wanted her trust, needed it, in fact. There was
a goodness
in him she had trouble understanding, buried deep behind his cold demeanor and shunning remarks. He was up against the Empire. There was no logical way he could win and stop the slavers, the wards, the Corps, was there? “Yes. I will.” She kissed his cheek and watched his expression stiffen when she said, “I could kill you now.”

The door tones sounded. Runners slid along gears. Melia froze, a cold sense of foreboding filling her. Shoes thumped along the floor.

“What’s this, my Shiemer?” It was the bald man again, her interrogator.

She dreaded turning to see him. Instead, she focused on Enrue. She’d just admitted to killing one of the Doer Seven. Would he betray her trust? He closed his eyes and reached back to pull her arms from around him. He held her shackles and nodded at the bald man.

“She killed Jeremy.
Just confessed a moment ago.”
He stood and set her on the cot, his face cold once more. “Sorry you missed it, Jorin.”

“Well, if she did that, she knows more.” He reached into his coat and produced a syringe, tapping it with one finger as he examined the yellow liquid within. “She’s strong, but no one can hold out forever.” He approached and the Shiemir withdrew to the door.

“Anything else you want to tell me?” the bald man asked. “It will save time and your torture. I know it’s no fun trapped in here, to be forced to say things you don’t want to say. Just tell me now and save us both
time
.”

She glanced at Enrue. “Bastard,” she whispered.

“You are responsible for what you’ve done, Melia, whether you followed orders for the Empire or not. We all make our own choices, to submit or resist. I think you’re stronger than you let yourself be.” He punched in the keycode.

Her eyes narrowed, and she memorized each number he touched on the panel. The needle pricked her arm. Fluid burned in her veins. Shackles were raised high over her head once more. “You won’t break me.”

Enrue turned his back on her. “I hope not,” he muttered, his smooth voice barely audible. He strode out, leaving her to suffer another day of the gray haze and memories she cared not to face.

Chapter Nineteen

The Emperor’s Son

For over an hour, Enrue watched Melia through the plasma window. She gave away nothing except for nearly inaudible burbles about her mother. Jorin gave her a second injection, set his hands on his hips and watched with a predatory gaze. His cold cruelty did not appeal to the Shiemir, but he needed the man as an ally. Nema’s com interrupted his thoughts.

“My Shiemir, O’Ka is on the com for you. She has a report on the first attack.”

Hardly glancing at her face, he nodded. “I will take it in my office.” Waving one hand, he dismissed his secretary and stole a final glance at the object of his desire. Before Melia, he’d been so focused on the war, but now, he only wished it were underway or better yet, done with.

Melia raised her face, her eyes hooded and blinking too often. She searched the room and he wondered if she looked for him. Finally, she settled on Jorin. Her mouth twisted in anger. She spit at him and laughed. “I know nothing, you fool.
Nothing!”

“Who are the Doer Seven?” Jorin
asked,
his voice steady and devoid of emotion.

“You mean six, asshole.” A line of drool seeped from the side of her mouth.

Enrue ran a hand through his hair. He hated to see her like this, but he had to admit, her resistance impressed him. Vowing he too must be strong and fight the temptation of her, he retreated to the hall and the many responsibilities of who he was. Now was no time to show weakness, or to give in to carnal pleasures.

“Maybe later,” he whispered, and hurried along to speak to O’Ka.

Seated at his desk before the touchscreen, he studied his ally’s striking face. She frowned in a dark way, waiting for his signal to offer her report. “Tell me of the attack,” he finally said.

O’Ka smiled, revealing her fangs. “There were three casualties on our side, noble sacrifices. They flew into the helm of the Kyleena mothership.
The flames!”
She leaned forward, her merciless eyes widening over the excitement of battle.
“The explosion!
Ah, Enrue, you should have been at my side to see it. A shame we cannot claim responsibility for it.”