Wicked Empress: The Onic Empire, Book 4 (28 page)

Drahka saw it then, that their situation, as similar as it was to his, was not the same at all. No wonder Sterlave had held back. He did not wish to use Rown for his pleasure when he could not return the same. In a way, their conflict reminded him of the guilt he’d felt that his companion always gave pleasure but only received it by his own hand.

Drawing his attention to Sterlave, he met his tormented gaze with understanding. He could see how Sterlave wanted to tell Rown to break with his god, to renounce his faith and become a true partner with him and Kasmiri. But Sterlave could never ask such a great sacrifice from a man he truly loved. Rown was as devoted to his god as he was to his master. He was willing to sacrifice direct pleasure at Sterlave’s hand to keep a delicate balance between them both.

Drahka could not see how Sterlave touched Rown, but he could see the longing such caresses gave to Rown. Eyes closed, his breath came in short pants as he reveled in Sterlave’s strokes but maintained his control. Again, Drahka was amazed at his mastery. Rown knew just how far to go before pulling his needs back, bundling them up, keeping them constrained. No wonder he was so skilled at giving pleasure. He knew just how far to push to bring the object of his attention ever higher.

Finally, fully within, Sterlave hissed out a breath between clenched teeth as Rown now stacked his fists one atop another to cradle Drahka’s entire prick. Pulling back and pushing forward, once, twice, and on the third time Drahka came, jetting his climax into the air, then along his chest. Seeing his release prompted Sterlave to grasp Rown’s hips and give one final thrust. As he climaxed he bellowed and shoved Rown forward, pressing his face into Drahka’s groin, which prompted another jolt.

Spent, each man breathing hard, Sterlave settled back on his butt, his legs crossed, taking Rown with him. Holding the young man against his body, Sterlave placed a soft kiss to his ear and then rested his head on his shoulder. Drahka saw that Rown was still hard, his cock throbbing as he nestled against Sterlave.

“Do you think we pleased them?” Sterlave’s brows lifted as he glanced up at Drahka.

“They are beyond satisfied.” Rown leaned his head back against Sterlave, taking measured breaths that slowly released the tension from his prick. As he spoke, he softened in stages until he was once again limp. Drahka could not imagine that kind of self-denial. “Always it has been a man and a woman. This is where Helton and Clathia had their trysts.”

“Kasmiri’s father and the empress?” That explained why the room was a replica of the empress suite. Kasmiri and Bithia’s mother must have wanted something familiar when she met with her lover. “But why do they wish to watch?”

“They feed off the emotions.” Rown wrapped his arms around Sterlave’s arms, hugging his arms even tighter around his chest.

“Is that why they healed Kasmiri and me?” Sterlave sighed as he settled Rown into a more comfortable position.

“Yes. But before they could observe you two, Ambo came with the guards.” Turning to look at him, Rown added, “They were terribly disappointed not to see you in action.”

Smirking, Sterlave said, “I think I’ve more than made up for that.”

Leaning up on his elbows, Drahka asked, “But have the three of us done enough that they will save Viltori?”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Tingles of hot and cold raced along Viltori’s nerves, causing him to alternately giggle and wince. Pain swirled along his body like a sluggish river with no outlet. Just when he thought he would drown in agony, a great rip released the pressure, gushing pain up through his face and out a hole in the top of his head. He would have screamed, but the flow of pain would not let him move. After a great surge had escaped, little dribs and drabs followed, allowing him to breathe.

He heard concerned voices whispering around him, quietly demanding to know if he would live or die. He heard an answer, but not one that was spoken. When he opened his eyes, he looked into an impossibly pale face with enormous silver eyes. There was something wrong with the eyes. After a moment, he realized her pupils were vertical slits. How strange and lovely. Her spun silver hair fell down around her face, then flowed back over her shoulders like a curtain. Below her tiny nose was a bare slit of a mouth. Most curious of all was her utter lack of emotion at what she was doing. With a hand to his forehead and the other cradling his head just above his neck, she peered down at him with a blankness that was almost terrifying. Who was this curious woman and what was she doing to him?

Again, from somewhere, he heard her voice. Not spoken, but pushed into his awareness. She had come to do her duty as demanded of her by her people, but she was not happy to violate the laws of nature. In her mind, nature was a being of great power, which gave generously, but when crossed, nature could wreak a terrible vengeance.

You should not have lived.
Her words were just as emotionless as her face. She spoke without malice or condemnation, as if she simply stated a fact everyone but he already knew.

Viltori wanted to turn away from the truth, but she held him enthralled by her touch.

There will be a sacrifice.

He wanted to weep, because he knew that was true as well. For him to live, another must die. On the other hand, if nature were as perverse as the Diolan gods were, then the exchange would not be a one-to-one reckoning. One would not die to take his place. One would suffer horribly and it would be on Viltori’s conscience. Unable to bear the pain he might inflict on an innocent, he tried to push her hands away, but it was too late. She’d healed him. Even if he turned right around and killed himself, someone else would still have to pay his debt. His torment would be wondering who and when.

Sleep now, and may nature have mercy upon your surrogate.

Viltori awoke to darkness. As he blinked, he became aware of two things—little blue lights and deep breathing. Turning his head, he saw Drahka slumped in a chair far too small for his enormous frame. With his head lolled to the side, he appeared both exhausted but also young, as sleep erased all the hard lines from his face. In his hand, he clutched something, but shadows obscured the item.

Coughing caused him to jump to his feet. Blinking he wavered. When he saw Viltori’s open eyes, Drahka rushed to his bedside so fast he was a blur.

“My friend, I have missed you.” Leaning over him, he lowered his face and placed a delicate kiss against his lips. Viltori took a deep breath of his sleepy and slightly sweaty but so compelling scent. Viltori wanted to rise from his bed and wrap his body around Drahka. A hand to his chest held him immobile. “Do not rise. The doctor was clear that you must stay here longer.”

Nodding, Viltori relaxed against the narrow bed. Below his back, he felt a gooshy pad that lifted heat up into his body. When he looked down, he saw a simple gray sheet covered him.

“Bithia will be so disappointed she was not here.” Drahka smoothed the hair off Viltori’s forehead, his touch soothing and yet conveying strength.

“Where is she?” His dreams of her still lingered around the fringes of his memory. Her sad voice, her pleading for him to return. Now he had. But someone else must pay. Gods save him if his resurrection caused either of the people he loved so dearly any pain.

A frown returned the hard lines to Drahka’s face. “There have been so many demands on her time. With Ambo gone—”

“Ambo is gone?” Viltori didn’t think the venerable old man would ever die. Ambo had been the magistrate for over forty seasons. “What finally killed him?” Given the man’s massive weight, he was thinking his poor heart finally collapsed.

Drahka looked down at the floor. “He was put to the stone for treason.”

A shock wave slammed into Viltori’s body, causing him to tense so dramatically that the pad below pumped soothing chemicals into him. He knew without asking that the fight with Blue-green House had set all of this into motion.

“It is long and complicated and I do not wish for you to worry.” Drahka smoothed his palm against Viltori’s head again, each pass caressing his forehead. Despite his agitation, he did calm. “There will be time enough for those details later. Bithia is strong enough to deal with her advisors and the naming of a new magistrate.” Looking sternly into Viltori’s eyes, Drahka added, “Your duty is to heal fully. So that I may give to you again.”

The statement turned Viltori’s feelings away from darkness and into light. “I would like you to give to me very hard, very fast.” He would have delivered his sexy words with a provocative glance, but he had no idea how horrible his face appeared. With a laugh, he captured Drahka’s hand. Kissing his fingertips turned into a tease with lips and tongue, causing him to redden and pull his hand away.

“You are too weak now, but soon, I think, you will be able to handle all that I can give.” Drahka tried to make it seem a threat, but the promise of his wild lovemaking had Viltori’s cock stirring to life.

“What did you bring me?” He lifted his chin at Drahka’s other hand, the one gripping the unknown item.

Frowning in an utterly charming, confused way, Drahka held up a small blue vial. “This is a gift from Rown. He said you would understand the meaning.” Drahka placed the bottle in Viltori’s hand.

Warmed by his body heat, the little vial felt almost hot in his palm. Pulling the tiny stopper, Viltori sniffed cautiously at the contents. There wasn’t much of a smell, so he carefully tilted the bottle until a drop of golden oil fell onto his fingertip. Rubbing his fingers together caused slow warmth to spread along his hand and a grin to grow across his lips.

“He finally got Sterlave to accept him fully.”

Surprised, Drahka pulled back, confirming his statement. “How did you know?”

“Rown has lusted after the man since the day he saw him in the empress suite with Kasmiri. However, as a servant, Rown could only go so far and do so much. He was allowed to play with him under Kasmiri’s direction, but not be with him of his own accord.” Sighing, Viltori put the stopper back in the bottle. “When Kasmiri relinquished her crown, Rown stayed with her and Sterlave, but he was still considered a servant. Rown was convinced Sterlave worried over his inability to return the pleasure he received, and I think he was right, but it seems they have overcome that issue.”

“You got all that from oil?”

“Ah, no. Rown once swore to me that when he got Sterlave to put aside his issues, he would oil his cock and take him within. I’m assuming Rown is using the oil to signal victory.” Viltori handed the bottle to Drahka. “Wait.” A new thought occurred to him. “How would you know that Rown and Sterlave have overcome their conflict?”

Lifting his brows mysteriously, Drahka said, “You will not believe what I had to do to get you help.”

Jealousy surged but retreated when Viltori saw the proud way Drahka held himself. Had he done something untoward, he would not be so arrogant. “Do tell.”

Pulling his chair close, Drahka settled in and told him of the Tregan people. With great enjoyment, he conveyed how he, Sterlave and Rown had to satisfy their voyeuristic tendencies. Easily Viltori could visualize the three men together as Drahka described them. His telling of the tale was so detailed that Viltori developed a profoundly hard erection that pushed up the sheet from his hips. So intent was Drahka on his tale he did not notice Viltori’s state. The medical pad at his back took his excitement for tension and immediately began dosing him into a stupor, yet his arousal remained strong.

“She was unable to heal you fully, but the doctor is clear that you will return to full function within a quarter cycle.” It was then Drahka noticed the levitating sheets. “I guess part of you is sufficiently recovered already.”

Viltori would have blushed, but the drugs wouldn’t let him. “You told your tale well.”

“Did I?” Scooting his chair closer, Drahka whispered, “Do you wish for me to take care of you?” He glanced down, then back to his eyes. “I would like to, but not if it will hurt you.”

Viltori shook his head, which only made his dizziness worse. “The bed keeps medicating me. I think it would be impossible to orgasm in this state.” Cupping a hand to Drahka’s chin, he added, “But you are kind to offer.”

“Kind? No, I am greedy. I’ve longed to take you into my mouth again, to feel the blood coursing through your hard flesh, to feel your cut cock pump pleasure deep into my throat.”

Viltori’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as his mind pictured what Drahka said. Moaning, he tightened his grip on his chin, pulled his face close and kissed him hungrily. Releasing him he asked, “Who taught you to talk like that?”

“You.” Drahka kissed him again. “I’ve discovered that you and Bithia love talking before, during and after sex. I think I am becoming most proficient, but I did have an excellent teacher.”

Blinking slowly, Viltori said, “I still have more to teach you.”

“I’m looking forward to your lessons.” Drahka sighed and gave his head one last loving stroke. “Now you should rest. I will stay and watch over you.”

This thought lured Viltori into sleep with a satisfied smile on his face that turned wistful then sad when he remembered the prophetic words of the woman with silver hair.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Sleep pulled at Bithia, but she was determined to put this issue to rest before she found her own. Arguments had raged for a quarter cycle over the appointment of a new magistrate. All her choices were immediately rejected. She in turn rejected all the suggestions of the Houses. In the end, her advisors stepped forward, fielding names in the hopes they could come to an agreement. Without a magistrate, many rites and ceremonies were on hold. Bithia hated to admit the truth, but for all his annoying ways, Ambo deftly handled an amazing number of responsibilities.

Even with that grudging admittance, she did not regret what she had done. Leading a rebellion against the throne was best handled with swift and sure retribution. Visibly cowed, the House heads voiced their dissent, but with respect. No more would they openly demean her or her decrees. They might do so privately, but outbursts and treasonous comments uttered to her face had ceased. Bithia realized she had only herself to blame for their disdain of her. From the moment she’d arrived on Diola, she’d treated her position as a joke, calling them all
peckards
and letting Ambo rule in her stead. No more. Ambo had convinced her to be a figurehead while he did all the work. What he’d done was turn her empire into his own. What saved her was the simplest thing: tribute.