When Good Toys Go Bad (14 page)

“Not you. You’re too detail oriented and aware of everything to shut yourself down at night.” No, there was something he didn’t particularly want to tell her. He was rattled, and like always, it tickled her. “Tell me. Is it unicorns? You dream about unicorns, right?”

“Yes. Unicorns. I love ’em. They prance through my sleep on cotton-candy clouds.”

“Or maybe you dream that you’re naked in front of a crowd and you have to recite the Gettysburg Address.”

His voice deepened. “Occasionally, I am naked, no lie.”

Jules licked her lips. How he could send her from despair and sadness to laughter to arousal with simple changes in pitch and tone was beyond her. “Is that right? Well now, that image is sure to haunt me.”

“I’d worry over whether you meant that in a good way or a bad way, but since you’ve never seen me, I don’t think you can mean either.”

“That would be cool.”

“What?”

“If I knew what you looked like,” she blurted out, and then felt immediately foolish.

Christ. Could she be any more of a girl?

He was silent. No doubt thinking of how to extricate himself from this. She opened her mouth at the same moment he spoke. “Is that…important to you?”

“Knowing what you look like?”

“Yes.”

“No.” She squirmed. “I’m sorry. It’s just that you’ve been in my head for so long, I felt like… I didn’t mean to cross any lines, so please forget…”

“No. Of course it makes sense that you would wish to see me, especially when I know what you look like.”

“How do you know what I look like?”

“Sometimes if I’m tuned in to you and you pass a mirror or your reflection, I catch a glimpse.”

Oh. That certainly made her feel vulnerable, though she knew that wasn’t his intent. “I guess when I said you’re detail oriented, I wasn’t wrong, huh?”

“Like I said, I know it’s not fair. If you want, we can try…” He hesitated. “Are you in a secure location? Can you put on your specs?”

As secure as she would ever get, and even with the VR specs on, she could still hear fine. Mystified, she leaned over the side of the bed and pulled them out of her knapsack. They looked like plastic goggles a mad scientist might wear, with a strong rubber band that went around the back of the head to keep them from slipping off. They were black, and a cord dangling off the side plugged them into a side slot on her collar.

“I have them. Am I training now?” She knew how to fight, but since Sanctuary had supplied her with this newfangled technology along with her collar, she’d started combat training with the virtual-reality goggles on. When she plugged it into her collar, James was able to upload virtual assailants for her to fight against.

It felt real to her. She supposed she looked like a fool, but no one was ever around to see her, and it served to keep her reflexes sharp.

“Not exactly. We’ve been working on something, and I want to see if it works. Put them on.”

She slipped them over her head and plugged them into the collar, staring into the blank nothingness of the glasses. “Done.”

“Give me a second.”

A second was all it took. For her combat training, James usually uploaded a program that gave her a weight room backdrop. That wasn’t what she saw now. This was a pastoral scene. Green grass lay in a rolling carpet, up to a house in the distance. Weeping willows kissed the ground.

Pretty.

Possibly the prettiest thing she’d seen in a while. The last time she’d come across a park, the overgrown lawn and weed-choked playground had depressed the hell out of her.

There was a moment of disorientation, and the scene became three dimensional. She wasn’t a watcher any longer, she was in it. The bed beneath her morphed into the soft grass. The chirp of birds sang in her ears, the trickle of a nearby river running merrily along.

Not pretty. Beautiful. Christ, how long had it been since she had experienced a quiet that was peaceful instead of fraught with the silence of those who had lived and died or run away?

She raised her hand to shade her eyes from the too-bright sun, watching as a colorful bird jumped from one branch of the tree to the next. The brush of her arm against something soft had her glancing down to find herself garbed, not in her usual rough clothes, but in a white satin halter dress with blue flowers strewn over it. Bemused, she touched the skirt. She didn’t own any dresses, and she certainly never wore white. It showed bloodstains too well.

“Jules?”

She didn’t jump, though the temptation was there. No one ever, ever crept up on her back. But she knew that voice, and she knew who would be standing there.

Four people. One rope. Desire plunged into dangerous obsession.

Dark Empress

© 2011 Anitra Lynn McLeod

Onic Empire, Book 5

Errion Ald’Areed senses that his business partner’s passion for designing pleasure upgrades for service robots has cooled, but nothing he’s tried—men, women, exotic adventures—has lifted Lorren D’Buren’s ennui. Until he sees the look in Lorren’s eyes when the intergalactic ambassador from Diola crosses their path at a charity ball.

Under the watchful eye of Gabriyel, her faithful bodyguard, Farjika is determined to live down her empress mother’s scandalous reputation for taking multiple lovers. Her instant attraction to Lorren, though, tempts her to cross her self-imposed bounds of propriety. And Gabriyel is shocked that his level-headed mistress has fallen so easily into a torrid affair.

At first Errion is pleased that Farjika has roused Lorren out of his funk. When he notices the depth of the mutual fascination, though, he realizes he must act quickly—or lose his sometime lover and best friend.

His plan to eliminate the threat is perfect in its beautiful complexity. Until one snag in his delicate web of seduction plunges them all into a potentially deadly tangle with no way out…

Warning: Contains humor, masturbatory robots, mystical BDSM, stern punishments and more variations on m/m/m/f than the author can count. Sex toys are not included with purchase but are strongly recommended.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Dark Empress:

“Tell me, my lovely one, what do you hope to accomplish here on Avalith?” Errion knew the question was a light one. Any visitor would have a stock answer ready to spew out to satisfy any who asked, yet Farjika actually considered his question.

Lifting her gaze to capture his, she softly informed him, “My world is isolated. We have been so for many hundreds of thousands of seasons. I hope by coming here, to Avalith, and donating a large portion of funds, to show the galactic community that we are concerned with our brethren. That we wish to break free from our self-imposed seclusion.”

Errion wanted to capture her mouth, cutting off her words long before she could finish speaking them. Not only was she utterly lovely, but she was kind and sweet. Worse, she had a conscience. She wasn’t just repeating words she’d been told to say, she honestly believed in what she said. Red flashes of warning went off behind his eyes. This woman was dangerous. Farjika truly could sway Lorren from any path he might be on, and she could do it without much effort. Farjika was a woman who could steal a man’s soul without intention. Raylor’s bursting balls, but she’d effortlessly stolen Errion’s attention and yet seemed utterly unaware!

As he drew her into the main room, her gaze slid around, appreciating the paintings, sculptures, rugs and the furniture. She finally settled her gaze on Errion. “I am impressed by your estate. You clearly have a unique turn toward art.”

He nodded, offering her a drink, which she cupped lightly in her hand.

“How long will you stay on Avalith?”

She took a sip to give herself time to think of her answer, and he realized she honestly didn’t know. Her hesitation worried him. His gut told him her stay depended on what happened with Lorren.

“I find I am intrigued by your planet. I would like to stay and learn more about your culture even after my official visit has come to a close.”

As she spoke, he noticed she kept taking surreptitious glances at one sculpture in particular. He had to work hard to suppress a lusty grin.

“Where are you staying?” Casually, he maneuvered himself across the room until he was standing near the life-sized rendering of an intricately bound woman. Between her parted legs, a man thrust deeply into her. The woman’s head was bowed in submission; however, her face was still visible as her hair was drawn away. The man’s head was flung back in ecstasy, his lips peeling away from his teeth with an artfully captured snarl of possession.

“I am staying in my skip.” When he tilted his head, she offered, “A small planet-safe ship while my larger spacecraft remains in orbit.” She took another sip of her drink that turned into more of a gulp when she drew her eyes away from him and the erotic rendering. “Master D’Buren graciously offered one of his fallow fields to station the craft.”

“Lorren’s father is always so generous with visiting dignitaries.” Usually so he could finagle an exclusive marketing contract for his robotic servants. Wouldn’t he be surprised when he realized Diola had no desire for mechanization? “Is something wrong?”

Darting her gaze to the entwined figures, then away, she whispered, “Are all of your statues so explicit?”

Errion laughed.

Her head stayed low as her gazed traveled up. She seemed unsure if he were laughing at her or at what she’d said.

“Explicit?” He chuckled as he slapped his hand to the man’s muscular ass. “He’s fucking her as she wishes.”

Eyes widening at the vulgarity, Farjika cupped the fragile glass, which trembled in her hand. He could tell she struggled with the idea of whether she should say something or not. In the end, her curiosity got the better of her. Darting her gaze around to ensure they were alone, she asked, “If she wants him, then why is she bound?”

The woman’s arms were artfully tied behind her back, and she used them to leverage herself up. Her legs embraced the man who had his head back in the throes of release.

Lowering his gaze, pinning her where she stood, Errion murmured, “She is bound because she finds pleasure in giving control to the man.” Softly, he asked, “Haven’t you ever let a lover tie you up?”

Farjika’s gaze met his, her pupils dilating. In that moment, he saw the hunger in her eyes. A dark hunger for something that Lorren would never give her but Errion could.

Before she could answer, he deftly removed his jacket, tossing it casually on a nearby chair. “I would think a future empress would be well schooled in the art of lust.” He turned, giving her an excellent view of his bulging trousers. Pleasure rippled across his tense muscles when she looked down then quickly away. Slowly and deliberately, he looked at her chest, making sure she saw him looking. He noticed her nipples pressed tightly against the fabric, twin bits of tightened flesh. “I understand that on Diola, sex is practically your religion.”

“That is not true.” She frowned at what he’d said. Her displeasure deepened when she noticed the way he was looking at her. Setting her drink upon the closest table, she said, “Sadly, many seem to think that it is, but I assure you—”

“How did it feel when he slid his tongue into you?”

Caught off guard by the question, she sputtered in shock, then turned her gaze around the room again. “Where is Lorren?”

Running his finger down the rope that bound the woman’s breasts, he murmured, “He’s a little tied up at the moment.”

He could tell that Farjika was trying to determine if he were being literal or not.

“I think I should go.” Her skirt flared around her legs as she spun toward the door.

“Without a word to Lorren? That’s hardly courteous behavior,” he scoffed, continuing to stroke the rope that trailed down the woman’s torso. The metal felt cool below the heat of his hand. “Especially after all the trouble he went to for you.”

She stopped in midstride, apparently thinking over what she should do. He’d hit his mark well; she did not wish to appear ungracious or rude, not to the object of her affection.

Frankly, he didn’t mind getting another look at the back of her dress and her hair, which was startlingly similar to the rope on the statue. Farjika would look exquisite bound, and binding would only heighten her awareness of her body. Already he could picture how he would drape the silk rope around her frame using various lengths of crimson cord that would highlight the color of her skin. Deliberately, he would place the knots to give her the greatest pleasure. To have her bound and at his mercy was such a heady prospect, he couldn’t stop thinking of the ways he could pose her. Of course, if he acted on his cravings, Lorren would kill him.

“Lorren will join us shortly.” Errion had carefully arranged the evening so that he would have a chance to be alone with Farjika. He tossed off his drink and set the empty aside. Crossing the parlor, his bare feet silent on the thick carpet, he moved until he was standing right behind her.

Glancing over her shoulder, she drew a short breath. “What are you doing?”

Touching her with only his breath when he hungered to do so much more, he said, “I’m admiring your dress.” Goose bumps washed along the backs of her arms. “Did he slide his finger into you?”