eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work. This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. Samhain Publishing, Ltd. 577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520 Macon GA 31201 Her Master’s Pleasure Copyright © 2008 by Kassie Burns ISBN: 978-1-60504-189-6 Edited by Linda Ingmanson Cover by Natalie Winters All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: September 2008 www.samhainpublishing.com
Her Master’s Pleasure Kassie Burns
Dedication
To Daniel, who’s embarked on his own great adventure.
Her Master’s Pleasure
Chapter One
Finally, life was perfect. Glancing around the control center of her starship, Jalil Merten stretched out her legs, leaned back in her chair and settled in to enjoy her achievements. A warm glow of contentment filled her. She’d spent a lot of money on upgrades and repairs to the Gypsy Gal, but they were well worth it. Her brand new MO XE computer, affectionately known as Moxie, practically flew the ship—which made the luxurious captain’s chair she’d splurged on all the more important. It offered plenty of comfort for a captain who had nothing to do but polish her nails and relax. Jalil ran a hand down one arm of the chair, enjoying the feel of the butter-soft leather under her palm. The cabin was silent except for the low hum of the Gypsy’s engines. Another upgrade, also well worth every credit she’d spent. And the best part was, she wasn’t in debt. By an incredible stroke of luck, she’d snagged the contract for the Lynus run out from under the Space Traders Union. Yes, sir, she’d kicked some major butt on that one. The upfront fee alone had been enough to pay for everything she’d had done to the ship. Her gaze flicked to the view screen, which showed a reddish planet shrinking behind the ship. Dead ahead, the stars glowed like scattered jewels in the deep velvet black of space. www.samhainpublishing.com
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“Report.” Her eyelids grew heavy. She fought an urge to drift off to sleep. Maybe this captain’s chair was a tad too comfortable “All systems nominal.” Moxie’s sultry purr filled the cabin. The new computer’s sexy voice was definitely the work of some male designer. Jalil wondered if she could get an upgrade with a masculine rumble. But if she did, would she have to rename the computer Max? Decisions, decisions, the kind of decisions it was a pleasure to make for a change. She’d put the hardscrabble life behind her. With a soft sigh of satisfaction, Jalil propped her feet up on the edge of the control panel and folded her hands over her stomach. Maybe she should settle in for a nap and let Moxie run things. A sudden thump shook the Gypsy Gal. The soft humming of the engines abruptly stopped. Jalil jerked upright and glared at the control panel. Alarm lights flashed bright red all over the board. “Report!” “Auxiliary maneuvering engines have gone off-line.” Moxie sounded breathless, a neat trick in a computer. “The Schrodinger drive is activating.” “That’s impossible. Shut it down!” Jalil’s fingernails dug into the arms of her chair, but she was oblivious to the danger to the expensive leather. The Schrodinger drive, named for some obscure, ancient quantum physicist, twisted the ship through another dimension and made faster-than-light travel possible. But a ship had to start the journey at one of the known continuum points, or it might emerge anywhere. At this moment, the Gypsy was two days out from the continuum point that would take it to Lynus space. “I can’t. The system won’t respond to my commands.” “Override the damn system.” “Still no response.” What the frick? Leaning forward, Jalil punched the emergency override. The drive refused to shut down. Instead, concentric circles formed on the main view screen. The ship was preparing to launch itself into another dimension.
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“Damn it!” She grabbed the control yoke and pulled hard, struggling to turn the ship away from the deadly center of those concentric circles. The ship refused to respond. “Moxie!” “There’s nothing I can do, Captain.” The unflappable calm of the computer voice seemed eerily unreal. “My command circuits are no longer connected to the Schrodinger drive’s controls.” “How the frick did that happen?” On the view screen, the circles glowed brighter. The Gypsy Gal moved steadily closer to the exact center. Jalil’s heart jumped into her throat. They were about to enter the gateway to oblivion. “I am encountering evidence of sabotage. I must draw the conclusion that someone wants to destroy this ship.” “And they’re succeeding.” Jalil ground her teeth together. The hum of the engines rose to a shrill whine. The lights went off, plunging the interior into blackness except for the red glow of emergency lights. The ship seemed to plunge forward toward the heart of the circles on the screen. “No! Frick, no!” Too late. The Schrodinger drive kicked in. Jalil’s gut twisted for a long moment of endless agony. She seemed to be nowhere and everywhere at the same instant. Just as a scream rose in her throat, the chaos vanished, and the universe congealed into normal space and time. The lights flickered back on. Jalil leaned toward the screen. Could things get any worse? A hailstorm of rocks hurled at the ship. “Damn, damn, damn!” “Are you swearing at me?” Moxie asked, sounding offended. “No, I’m swearing at our fricking luck. A whole universe, most of it empty, and we manage to emerge in the asteroid belt of a solar system. And damned if this one isn’t more crowded than most.” Moxie clucked. “Oh, my, I think you’re right.”
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Hurling profanities at the view screen, Jalil maneuvered the Gypsy this way and that, trying to avoid the hurtling rocks. Some were larger than the ship. Alarm bells jangled in the background. Finally, a clear section of space appeared ahead. Jalil flexed her tense hands to relax them and reached up to swipe at the sweat dripping from her forehead. Without warning, the ship lurched violently. The entire hull rang like a bell. The impact knocked Jalil out of her chair. More alarms went off. “What the frick was that?” “Hull breach in the cargo hold. We’re losing air.” “That’s not good.” Jalil scanned the system ahead in desperation. She needed a planet. Any planet would do, but she’d prefer one that supported human life. “Here.” Anticipating her need, Moxie flashed images of the inhabitable planets up on one of the screens. The computer stopped at a large blue and white world. Clouds and seas. With luck, they indicated a breathable atmosphere. Jalil looked closer, saw the welcome browngreen of land. “Set course.” “Course set at maximum sublight speed. Arrival in five minutes. There’s a slight problem, however.” “Which is?” “The collision damaged the bottom of the ship. She’ll be hard to control going in. I’m not sure we’ll be able to avoid crashing.” “Leave the landing to me.” Jalil buckled herself into her expensive chair. A muscle in her jaw throbbed. She’d bet her boots the Space Traders Union was behind this. Lowlife scum. But she’d have her revenge—if she survived. She glanced at the screens. Already the planet loomed large, mountains and seas growing in size. They were almost there. She didn’t recognize any of the features. Where in the vast universe had the Gypsy Gal come out? An eerie whistling sound penetrated into the engine room. Frick it, the hull breach must be really bad. Gypsy was striking the atmosphere with too much speed. Metal screamed and peeled away as the super-heated hull collapsed under the titanic pressures of the rushing air.
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The ship started to buck. She leaned over her controls. The Gypsy Gal plummeted downward, the usually responsive controls heavy under her hands. The air screeched around it. The lurching grew worse. Moxie was right. The collision had destroyed the aerodynamics of the hull. The ship flew like a brick. Why did she have to think of that analogy? A high, piercing shriek assaulted her ears. The ground rushed up toward her. She pulled back on the yoke but got no response. “Impact in five seconds,” Moxie warned. “No fooling!” Jalil threw her hands in front of her face. Damn it all, life had been so perfect. The world went black.
Jalil struggled upward from a deep well of total darkness. Pain flooded her consciousness. She wanted to cry out, but it was hard to breathe. She forced her eyes open. A man hovered above her. His sleek, braided hair fell over his shoulders and his handsome face was set in rigid lines of concern. His commanding eyes searched hers. Gazing into them was like falling into infinite space again…black velvet and bright, sparkling stars. Somewhere in the distance a voice shouted: “We’re losing her!” The darkness deepened… When her consciousness returned the second time, the pain was gone. Her scattered thoughts groped toward coherence, and she grew aware that she was lying in a soft bed. She moved her hands and felt the satiny smoothness of silk sheets beneath her palms. Prying open one eye, she blinked at the daylight. A painted ceiling glowed high above her, filled with rich colors. A shining sun dappled golden light over the soft white clouds that sailed across a bright blue sky. The scene was no doubt meant to be soothing, but it sent a bolt of panic shooting through her. This was not her cabin aboard the Gypsy Gal. With a jolt, her memories of the crash rushed back. Why wasn’t her broken body lying tangled in the wreckage? Expecting a stab of pain at any moment, she turned her head to the side with infinite caution. Beyond the bed, a smooth floor of polished marble ended in double doors that
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were thrown open to catch the cool breeze. Outside, an expanse of green lawn sloped down to a narrow white beach. Sunlight glinted on a deep blue sea that stretched on and on until it was swallowed by the sky. “What the frick?” She sat up and the silken coverlet fell away. Underneath, she was naked. She clapped her hands to her breasts and examined her body in breathless wonder. Not a mark. Not a cut. Not a bruise. How could that be? She remembered all too well— the alarms, the planet on her screen, the Gypsy Gal falling through the air like the thousand-ton brick it had become, the crash—and awakening to pain and a strange man with burning eyes. Puzzled, she shook her head. She should be seriously injured, at the very least. Maybe even dead. Maybe she was dead, and this was the afterlife. An afterlife complete with marble floors, manicured lawns, a beach and an ocean beyond. The sharp click of a door opening broke the silence. A young woman stepped into the room, saw Jalil sitting up, and gave a little gasp of surprise. “Oh, you’re awake at last.” Jalil frowned. The woman looked human, which was a definite plus. And her words made sense, another huge plus. At least they’d be able to communicate. The intruder was speaking a form of Eninese, the language once shared by all the worlds in the First Civilization, but it was heavily accented. Jalil’s heart sank. These people must have been cut off from the rest of the galaxy for a long time for the mother tongue to become so distorted. Not that being cut off was unusual. Many worlds had vanished from human knowledge after the fall. She cleared her throat. “I’m awake, all right.” Her voice sounded rusty with disuse. How long had she been asleep? She held out her hands, opening them in what she hoped would be taken for a friendly gesture. The woman nodded. “I must tell my master.” She turned to go. “No, wait.” Jalil struggled to sit up straighter in the bed. The woman turned back toward her and for the first time, Jalil noticed her attire. Frick, more problems. She was dressed like a grade-three whore back on Tau Gamma. A low-cut halter top of semi-
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transparent scarlet silk barely contained her full breasts. Her midriff was bare, and a short skirt, knotted together on one hip exposed a long stretch of creamy thigh. More alarming, though, was the golden collar around her neck and the slender chain that dangled from it, passing between the hollow of her breasts to attach to a small golden hoop that pierced her navel. “I don’t believe it. Of all the rotten luck.” Jalil collapsed back in the bed and rolled her eyes up at the painted ceiling. Damn the Space Traders Union. She’d crashed in the middle of some god-awful primitive society where women were apparently treated like chattel. “Maybe I should just cut my throat and be done with it.” “Pardon? You don’t want to live?” The woman edged closer, her dark eyes wide with concern. The stricken look on her face forced Jalil’s own worries from her mind for a moment. Feeling a rush of sympathy, she propped herself back up on her elbows. This woman was obviously a slave who might be held responsible for her unhappiness. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to alarm you. I’m fine.” “You are sure?” The woman clasped her hands together. “My master has commanded me to see that you are made happy.” Jalil almost laughed. Happy? There was no hope of that, but she didn’t want to upset this slave woman any further. The poor thing probably suffered a life of constant abuse. The mere idea of slavery made Jalil’s stomach turn sour. Thank the gods the Federation had outlawed slavery centuries ago. But in the savage ages following the fall of the First Civilization, slavery had resurfaced on some planets. Was that what had happened here? Jalil pressed her lips together. What a sad way to cap almost ten thousand years of human history. Humans had first colonized the galaxy five thousand years ago. They’d enjoyed two thousand years of golden achievement before jealousy and greed had gotten the upper hand. The resulting wars had torn civilization apart. Ravaged worlds had fallen back into darkness and vanished from the star maps. Two thousand years of unspeakable regression and depravation followed. The secret of star drive was lost on many planets.
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There were even worlds where the people forgot they’d once belonged to a galaxyspanning civilization and thought they were alone in the universe. Now an intergalactic network was slowly being re-established. Civilization was rising again from the ashes. But not here. That much was already plain. Her ship’s unplanned jump had taken her far off course. She was trapped on a barbaric world, without any contact with the Federation. “Shit.” Jalil collapsed back on the bed. “Which is what I feel like right at the moment.” The woman hurried over and laid a cool hand on Jalil’s forehead. “How can that be? The healing chamber never fails.” “Healing chamber?” Jalil sprang upright, her interest suddenly rekindled, and knocked the woman’s hand away. A healing chamber was First Civilization technology, one of far too many miraculous devices lost to the darkness. The Federation couldn’t duplicate it yet. Such marvelous technology explained why she didn’t have so much as a bruise. And—it would be worth a fortune on the open market. Enough to retire on, to live a life of luxury. Slow down, gal. First you have to get back to the Federation, and that’s not going to be easy. She turned to the woman. “Your people have a working healing chamber?” “Yes. When rescuers arrived at your crash site, they found you mangled and near death. My liege lord, the wise and noble Zand, ordered you placed in the chamber. It’s a great honor.” The woman’s forehead puckered in a frown. “He will be displeased if you aren’t perfectly healed.” “I am. Healed. Perfectly. See?” Jalil flung the rest of the blanket aside and swung her legs to the floor. She stood, and the room whirled. Whoa! Maybe getting up so fast had been a mistake. She plopped down on the edge of the bed, letting the air out of her lungs with a whoosh. The woman held up a warning hand. “You must stay in bed. You’ve been healing for a week. Your body is still feeble.”
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“My body, maybe, but not my mind.” Jalil pointed at the woman. “I want some answers. Who are you and where am I, for starters.” The female bowed her head. “I’m called Sepella. Zand has entrusted me with the great honor of serving you. You are in my lord’s palace in Jah Angur, the capital city of the province of Katarsh. The mighty Zand, my lord, governs Katarsh, which stretches from the sea to the mountains. On the other side of the mountains lies Suzin, the magnificent city of the Lord Imperator, ruler of our world.” “Oh, yeah?” Jalil imagined she was supposed to be impressed. “What is this world anyway?” “Teymour.” Damn, she’d never heard of it. She was well and truly lost. Well, it would take more than a slime-ball despot to impress her. When the First Civilization fell, evil, powerhungry men and women had crawled out of the swamps on a hundred worlds. They’d taken over planets and bent people to their twisted desires. Most of them had fricked up their worlds with repression and pure cruelty until the people had risen and destroyed their regimes. Only to have a worse one take its place oftentimes. Such was the glorious story of human history. Eventually, more by luck than planning, a planet might stumble upon a workable government system and begin clawing its painful way back up the ladder of enlightenment again. In such a way, the First Civilization had achieved a sort of rebirth as the Federation. “Teymour’s not on any map I know.” Sepella gave a nervous little giggle. “Do you doubt what I tell you?” “Not at all. It’s more or less what I expected. Your lord Zand is a minor ruler.” Sepella gasped and her dark eyes flashed. “There is nothing minor about my great liege lord! Next to the Lord Imperator, he is the most powerful man on this planet. If only you knew him, you would know he is the wisest and most compassionate of men.” “How nice for him. Is he young and handsome, too?” Jail meant the words as a joke but the startled expression on Sepella’s face told her she’d struck home.
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“How could you know, my lady? They told me you were unconscious after the crash, and they brought you straight to the healing chamber. After they finished, you were brought here. How is it that you had a chance to see my glorious lord?” “I didn’t see him.” Or had she? The dim memory of a handsome face framed by black braids swam through her mind. With an effort, she shook it off and looked around, taking in the rich furnishings of the room for the first time. The furniture, built from some beautiful rose-colored wood, was elaborately carved. Lush hangings woven with scenes of mountains and woodlands adorned the walls. This Zand must be doing all right for himself. “I’d like to meet him and let him know I appreciate the hospitality—after I get some clothes on, of course.” To her surprise, Sepella shook her head. “No, no clothes. Zand will want to conduct a thorough inspection of your body, now that you are awake.” “An inspection? Of my body?” Jalil grabbed the blanket and pulled it up to her chest. She glared at Sepella. “What the frick do you mean?” Sepella spread her hands. “Please, don’t be alarmed, my lady. A woman as lovely as you is sure to please my lord.” “Me?” Jalil couldn’t help smiling at the idea that she was a beautiful lady. Hell, she knew what she was, a hard-assed space pilot who seldom came within twenty light years of a beauty salon. She kept her hair chopped short and spiky so she didn’t have to bother with it, and makeup never touched her face. Blushing slightly, Sepella touched her fingers to her toffee-colored cheek and then ran them through her long, black hair. “We are a darker people than you. None of us have ever seen someone like you, with eyes the color of the sea and hair the color of wheat under the summer sun. You are truly a prize.” “Yeah. My best qualities.” Jalil made a face. Being unconscious was a bitch. How many of these people had examined her and pawed at her before she ended up in this bed? The thought made her skin go cold. “Why do you mock yourself, lady? You are beautiful.” Sepella hesitated before continuing in a rush. “You’re quite lucky, too. You don’t know how fortunate it is for
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you that your ship crashed in Katarsh. If you’d crashed anywhere else, the Lord Imperator would certainly have claimed you for his seraglio. Lord Zand is the only liege lord with the courage to stand up to him.” “The Lord Imperator.” Jalil let the title roll off her lips. It sounded impressive as hell. “I take it being in his seraglio is not a good thing?” What was a seraglio anyway? She frowned. She had an idea. Damn! Sepella shivered. “No, my lady. His seraglio is a place to fear. It’s said his sexual appetites are cruel and perverted. He would have delighted in ravishing and abusing one like you. Instead, you’re here where you will know only the tender passions.” Suddenly wary, Jalil stared around the luxurious room. What was this place? As if reading the question on her face, Sepella spoke. “Lord Zand will come soon. He’s eager to examine you and decide.” Jalil’s stomach tightened. “Decide what?” “Whether he will honor you by taking you into his seraglio as his sex slave.”
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Chapter Two
“You want me to wear that?” Jalil eyed the flimsy garment dangling from Sepella’s outstretched hands in disbelief. Made of the sheerest white silk, it would hide none of her physical attributes. It was more like a gossamer veil than anything else, and Jalil guessed it would only come to mid-thigh on her, barely covering her crotch. It had a gathered bodice and two thin straps which tied on the shoulders. With a shiver, she realized all Zand would have to do would be to untie those straps, and the thing would slide off her body. No doubt that was the plan. “My lord Zand says if you insist on clothes, you must wear this.” Sepella had an unusually stubborn set to her mouth. “He’s showing you extraordinary favor by allowing this much. Most slaves hang from the examination rack naked.” “The examination rack?” Jalil’s throat tightened with sudden fear. She glanced wildly around the room, but nothing had changed since she’d awoken several hours ago. Earlier, servants had brought her food and drink, which she’d consumed with gusto. The exotic taste of the fresh fruit had surprised her: tangy on first bite, yet with a sweet inner core. After she’d finished her breakfast, Sepella had led her through one of the doors into a dressing room, bathroom and bathing chamber. The luxurious bathing chamber was a spacious, sun-filled room. It held a shower with two walls of sleek black 16
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marble and two of frameless glass that looked big enough to hold four people. The shower had more nozzles than Jalil had ever seen. Beyond it, the room opened into a pool centered under a skylight and filled with steaming, oil-scented water. She’d spent a long time in the pool, inhaling the rich, spicy scent of the oils, scrubbing her skin with the sweet-smelling soap, letting the hot water unknot the tension in her back muscles. When she’d emerged from the warm water, giggling servant girls had appeared under Sepella’s direction to dry and comb her hair. They hadn’t been able to do much with her short blonde locks, but they’d examined each sun-streaked curl with wonder. Then they’d sat her in front of a mirror in the dressing room and applied black eyeliner until her deep blue eyes glowed like sapphires in contrast. Finally, they’d spread a crimson lipstick on her full lips. The whole time, she’d stayed naked, although she’d asked again and again for clothes or a robe, anything. Instead, she’d drip-dried. Now Sepella held out this mere wisp of nothing. Jumping to her feet, Jalil shook her head in disbelief and turned her back on the insulting garment. What the frick did Sepella mean by an “examining rack”? “What are you talking about?” “You’ve never been tied to a rack?” Sepella pursed her lips in surprise. Jalil stomped a bare foot on the marble floor. “I’m not a slave!” Sepella cocked her head to one side. “Now my lady is joking with me. A woman is either a wife or a slave. There is nothing else.” “Where I come from, there sure as hell is. Frick!” Jalil’s stomach roiled with the beginnings of panic. “What do you mean there’s nothing else?” Sepella sighed. “I keep forgetting you don’t know our history. Teymour was settled long ago by a group fleeing from the First Civilization.” “Fleeing?” Jalil raked her hands through her hair in frustration. Nothing Sepella said made any sense. She began to pace back and forth across the chamber, feeling more and
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more as if she were in a prison. Who would want to flee the perfection of the First Civilization? People who weren’t up to any good, she suspected. “Our ancestors wanted the freedom to follow certain sexual practices they enjoyed, practices which were prohibited in the First Civilization.” “What kind of practices?” “Bondage. Sadism. Submission and dominance.” Sepella lifted her head, a challenging glint in her soft brown eyes. “Our people found these practices exciting and fulfilling. Others did not understand. So they came here, and when the First Civilization fell, they decided it was best to remain out of contact.” Jalil shot her a look of disgust. “I can imagine why. A few despots seized power and took advantage of the fall to practice domination in a big way.” Sepella’s cheeks flushed. “You don’t understand.” “I understand as much as I want to. How do I get off this ass-backward planet?” A desperate idea occurred to her. “I want to see my ship. Maybe I can repair the damage.” “It saddens me to tell you this, but your ship won’t fly again. My lord’s estate manager, Serye Varsh, has claimed the wreckage so he can explore its secrets.” “Who the hell is that? Tell the bastard to keep his filthy hands off the Gypsy Gal.” Jalil strode over to Sepella and poked a finger at her chest. “Better yet, let me talk to him. He’s going to have a hell of a time getting into it without my help.” Sepella shook her head. “Not so. The hull is ripped open.” “So what? Everything important is in the control center, and if Moxie is still functioning at all, he won’t be able to get inside.” Jalil turned and headed for the doors that led out to a patio, the lawn and the ocean beyond. How far away was her ship? Could she walk there? She snorted. Not naked like this, that much was certain. Sepella trailed behind her, still clutching the flimsy silken garment. “Who is Moxie?” Jalil turned and eyed the dress in Sepella’s hands. Perhaps if she made some small show of cooperation, these people would let her have access to her ship. “Moxie is my computer. If I leave the ship while it’s on a planet—such as when your people carried me
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out—she’s programmed to close everything up and lock down. She won’t reopen the doors to the command center except on my explicit order.” To her surprise, Sepella shuddered. “If your words are true, Varsh will want to talk to you. Perhaps by then you will have found favor with Lord Zand. Otherwise…” She let the sentence trail off. A worried frown appeared between her eyes. “Otherwise?” Sepella’s frown deepened. “Nothing. I’m certain you’ll please Zand.” She crossed the room to the wall hanging of a mountain scene and tugged on a braided rope that hung to one side. “Here is the examining rack. All the rooms in the seraglio have one.” The hanging parted to reveal a spacious alcove. Centered in it was a strange device of gleaming silver metal. Two sturdy bars rose up from the base, each as tall as a person. Jalil licked suddenly dry lips. She could see cuffs on each bar on the bottom for feet and at the top for hands. Once locked in place, a person would be held spread-eagle by the device. Drawn by a perverse fascination, she moved closer to the alcove and swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. “No way am I getting into this bondage contraption.” “Please, my lady!” Sepella reached out to touch her arm. “I beg you, don’t make this difficult. It must be done. If necessary, I’ll call the guards and they will drag you to the rack.” “What guards?” “There are guards keeping watch over every woman in the seraglio.” Sepella clapped her hands, and the door to the corridor opened. Two burly men stepped into the doorway, each wearing nothing but a loincloth. Muscles rippled across their massive chests and thighs as they moved. As if choreographed, each folded his arms and stared at the two women. The lips of one lifted in a slight leer. “What is it?”
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His probing gaze reminded Jalil of her nakedness. She pressed an arm across her breasts and clasped the other hand over her crotch. A sudden wave of dizziness warned her she was too weak to fight these men. Not that she’d stand a chance. “Okay.” She lifted her chin to hide the pain of her defeat. “I get the point.” Sepella made a dismissing gesture at the guards. “It’s nothing. I only wanted my lady to know about your presence.” One of the guards sniffed in disgust, but they both backed out, closing the door behind them. Jalil straightened and pressed a hand to her suddenly damp forehead. “They’re there all the time?” “Yes.” Oh, fine. She’d gotten herself into some real messes before, but this time she was truly sunk. This morning she’d been glad to wake up alive, but the hopelessness of her situation was starting to hit hard. The Gypsy Gal was severely damaged, maybe beyond repair, and she was trapped in this—this seraglio. She had only the vaguest idea what a seraglio was, but it was getting clearer by the minute, and it was not good. “Please put on the gown.” Sepella held it out. Frick! What choice did she have? Grimacing in disgust, Jalil slipped it over her head and let Sepella tie the straps at her shoulders. The thin material billowed around her, the hem brushing her thighs. Feeling like a prisoner on the way to execution, she walked over to the rack and positioned herself between the bars. She was facing the double doors with their view beyond to the sunlit ocean. The vast vista of sky and sea only made her trapped situation more unendurable. “Relax, my lady. My lord Zand won’t harm you.” As she spoke, Sepella bent and pulled Jalil’s ankles into position and snapped shut the bottom cuffs. Jalil could not control a shiver on hearing them lock into place. She stood with her legs spread shoulder width apart, leaving her pussy exposed and vulnerable. Next, Sepella grabbed her hands and pulled her arms upward, locking her wrists into the cuffs near the top of each bar. With her arms lifted high over her head, Jalil’s breasts
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rose, pressing against the filmy silk. Despite another surge of panic in her gut, her nipples grew hard, poking against the thin restraint. Sepella stepped back to survey her handiwork. “You look very beautiful, my lady. I’m sure you’ll please my liege lord.” “Not when I spit in his face.” Sepella half smiled. “You are not the first slave to have such a thought, my lady.” Turning gracefully, she walked over to a bureau and opened a drawer. Reaching inside, she drew out two pieces of black cloth. “What the—?” With a sinking heart, Jalil recognized what Sepella held in her hand. A gag. And a blindfold. Still smiling, Sepella walked around behind her. Jalil was tempted to clench down with her jaw muscles, but she knew any act of defiance would be meaningless. Those hulking guards would come and pry her jaws apart, humiliating her in the process. Her breathing ragged, she let Sepella pull the gag into her mouth and tie it behind her head. Next, the servant woman slipped the blindfold around her eyes. Everything went black. “Liege Lord Zand will be here in a moment.” Sepella tugged on the hem of the dress with gentle fingers, making a minute adjustment. Straining with all her senses to compensate for the engulfing blackness, Jalil heard her retreating footsteps and the sound of a door opening and shutting. Alarmed, she pulled against her cuffs. They refused to give. Warning pains shot down her arms and up her legs. A gust of wind blew in through the open doors, lifting the silky fabric and exposing her even more. Not that the gown hid a damn thing. She might as well be hanging naked. An almost inaudible click told her the door had opened again. Jalil’s throat went dry. Her heart began to pound. Despite her blindfold, she felt a powerful presence in the room. Zand? Another click. The door closed—at least she hoped so. Dear god, what if the guards were allowed to watch her examination? Her skin grew hot with the thought of such an awful humiliation.
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Footsteps crossed the room. Only one person, as far as she could tell. “You are lovely. I thought you would be once you were cleaned up.” The deep male baritone rumbled somewhere near her ear. With a start, she realized Zand had halted next to the rack. Damn, she could picture him standing there and staring at her. The thought made her traitorous nipples grow harder. She squirmed in her cuffs and swore at him, but only a muffled grunt emerged from the gag. “You’re a woman of spirit, I see.” Zand’s breath tickled her ear. He possessed a cultured voice and something warm and playful in his tone eased a little of her fear. At least he didn’t sound like an insane despot. Without warning, a finger touched her chin. She jerked back. Zand chuckled and pressed his hand into the soft flesh of her breast. His palm brushed over her taut nipple. A zing of electricity rushed down her nerve endings to curl her toes. Outraged and mortified, she writhed in her constraints. “Relax, my beauty. This is the seraglio. There is no escape. You’ll submit to whatever I desire.” Footsteps circled the rack. Jalil imagined him staring at her body through the flimsy silk, at her back, at her buttocks. As if he’d read her mind, Zand cupped the bottom of her butt with his strong hands. Jalil gave a muffled cry of surprise. She stiffened with anger and glared into the blackness. His hands moved upward, kneading her ass, caressing her skin through the silky garment. She tried to hold onto her anger, but his hands were deft and skilled, massaging her buttocks with a firm but pleasing touch, creating little rivulets of pleasure that prickled over her skin and roused a surprising heat deep in her core. His fingers slid into the crack of her butt cheeks, spreading them. This time she stayed motionless, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. He chuckled again and encircled her waist with both hands, his fingers playing with her navel.
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She cursed her ticklish skin, cursed the heat that uncoiled in her belly, cursed the wiggle she could not control. For a moment her butt pressed against him. Something long and hard dug into her rear. He had an erection. She froze, not daring to breathe. He laughed and kissed the back of her neck. His lips were warm and soft and full. They lingered a long moment on her skin, tasting her. He lifted her hair and swept his tongue along her hairline. “Yes, I like you, and I’ll have you soon, very soon.” She yelled a protest through the gag, but the only sound that came out was another helpless grunt. He chuckled behind her. His hot breath warmed the chill bumps that rose on her skin. Moving with an infinite slowness that tortured her with anticipation, he laid a trail of wet kisses, beginning at her neck and moving down the line of her spine to the small of her back. Laughing, he lightly slapped both her ass cheeks. Tears of outrage stung Jalil’s eyes behind the blindfold. She could only grind her teeth and endure in silence. Blood pounded in her temples, but she could still hear him walking around her again. He stopped and faced her. Her breasts rose and fell with her quickened breathing. With maddening deliberation, he continued her sensual torture. His hands touched her thighs where the hem of the gown fell. He pushed the silk upward, and a cool breeze teased the suddenly smoldering flesh between her legs. “The pathway to your womanly core is marked with gold.” She heard surprise and delight in his voice. His hand stroked the soft patch of hair between her thighs. The tips of his fingers brushed over the place where her clitoris lay hidden beneath the folds of her pussy. It hardened, swelling upward, and she squirmed in mortification. “Ah, what’s this? You like my touch.” His finger circled the thickening flesh, rubbing it. The pressure made her pussy throb with need. Little bursts of pleasure shot through her body. Her inner flesh grew damp and tightened with anguished need. Jalil stiffened, her breath caught in her throat. She stared into the darkness behind the blindfold. What next? Was he going to finger-fuck her, rape her before she’d even so much as seen his face?
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Instead, the man gave a low growl of approval and withdrew his touch from her intimate flesh. “You are indeed a prize, one to be savored, not rushed. I hear your eyes are the color of the sea and the sky. I want to see them, and I want to hear your voice. Sepella warns me, though, that you’ve not yet learned obedience. So I tell you this: If you act against me, you’ll be punished, and the punishment will be severe. Do you believe me?” Jalil pressed her lips together. She wanted nothing more than to spit in his face the moment he removed the gag. But that wouldn’t get her back to the Gypsy. Forcing down her anger, she nodded. “Good. Act with wisdom and I’ll treat you with respect.” He sounded amused. “Attempt to revolt and you’ll find yourself back on this rack, bound, gagged and blindfolded. And I won’t be so gentle a second time.” His fingers plucked at the knot behind her head, and the gag loosened. He pulled it out of her mouth. Breathing hard, she bit back a curse. She hated yielding to him, even in the smallest thing, but she needed to regain some measure of freedom so she could figure out how to escape from this tyrant. When she’d stayed silent a few moments, he untied her blindfold and it fell away. Jalil blinked and saw the handsome man who had leaned over her in the wreck. He was standing a few feet away from her, regarding her with calm possessiveness. “You find the idea of revolt by a woman laughable?” She put all the scorn she could muster into her voice. Lifting her head, she swept a haughty glance over his body. Midnight black hair hung to his shoulders in the many braids she’d remembered. They framed a strong face with a long nose and full, sensual mouth. As before, his eyes reminded her of the dark, velvety depths of space pulsing with the distant sparkle of stars. He was tall, half a head taller than her, with a broad chest and wide shoulders. He was no weakling, this Lord of Katarsh. Unlike her, he wore clothes, a long thick purple robe belted in scarlet at the waist. It fell to the floor, hiding his legs. His muscled arms were bare, though, and adorned with golden bands.
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To her surprise, her pussy tightened and a series of little shivers darted up her spine. This man was smokin’ hot. She’d like to tie him down on a bed and have her way with him. The idea that he might do that very thing to her was making her insides go molten. He took a step back and stood with his hands on his hips, regarding her. “Despite what you may think, Teymour is not a savage world. But I imagine our culture is unique.” Jalil struggled to regain her equilibrium. His nearness was overwhelming. Somehow he managed to dominate the space around him. She was finding it difficult to breathe. She had to fight back. With an effort, she found her voice. “It is, although not in a good way. Where I come from, a man isn’t allowed to touch a woman without her consent.” He lifted his brows. “Forgive my ignorance, but we’ve been cut off from other worlds since the First Civilization fell. Where do you come from?” “It’s called the Federation. It rose from the ashes of the First Civilization.” “But it’s just as sexually prudish, it seems.” “If you call simple decency prudish.” Zand laughed. “You think I have sex with women without their consent? Each of the women in my seraglio is chosen—and thrilled to be here.” “Like you chose me? Against my will?” His expression grew serious. “You would like the alternative less. If I hadn’t brought you here, the Lord Imperator would have claimed you. I assure you, he cares nothing for the niceties.” “He’s worse than you?” “Far worse. The sexual rules are different here on Teymour, but I enjoy conducting my sexual games with mutual consent. That is a tradition on our world. In certain hands, though, our games of submission and dominance can turn darker.” He stopped, but shadows moved in the depths of his eyes. Jalil shuddered, imagining what he meant. Was she lucky after all? Frick! The thought shocked her. Her wrists and ankles already ached from the cuffs holding her in place. The man was trying to brainwash her.
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She glared at him. “I don’t consent!” He regarded her with something like pity. “Very well. I can try to hide you in the kitchen, mopping the floors, although I doubt—” She cut him off. “Let me go to my ship. Maybe I can repair it and leave this damned world.” He folded his arms across his muscled chest and favored her with a lengthy, thoughtful look. “Your arrival here has created several problems which might be best solved by your departure. You are unlikely to fit into our society, and already your presence is stirring up reactions in some quarters. But I can’t simply repair your ship and send you back. For one thing, I would have to explain your absence to the Lord Imperator. He would be most unhappy. He’s made it clear that he wants you for his bedmate if you don’t please me.” Jalil’s skin crawled at the mention of the Lord Imperator. “Does he have to know you helped me escape?” Zand let his gaze wander up and down her body. He took a step closer, and the heat coming off him beat against her bare skin. “If I helped you, I would be taking an enormous risk. If he found out, he would be quite angry with me, and he’s been looking for some time for an excuse to accuse me of treason. Why should I take such a risk for you?” Her throat went dry. She knew the answer. She had but one commodity to trade on this planet. Taking a deep breath, she regarded him in her turn. Strangely, this conversation had reassured her. He was no mad despot. Furthermore, she was no shy virgin, and he certainly looked like a magnificent male specimen. She allowed herself to wonder what it would be like to touch him the way he’d touched her. To feel those iron biceps holding her tight, to bury her hands in those thick braids of midnight hair, to stroke that attractive ass. A part of her still bridled at his unspoken demand, but she was a woman of honor—a businesswoman. It was a fair trade. She lifted her chin. “All right. I consent.”
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“Good.” His sensual lips curved upward into an unexpectedly warm smile. “You might be surprised to find you’ll come to enjoy your stay in my seraglio. Here on Teymour each person is given a place in the order of life and taught to be content. And as I hope you’ll admit in time, they are justly ruled. My people are well cared for, happy and at peace.” Jalil pulled at her cuffs, heedless of the pain that shot through her wrists, but they held firm. “Forgive me if I don’t want to join your contented herd.” Again, a half-amused smile curled his full lips. She remembered their searing touch all too well. The skin of her back burned where he’d kissed her. He moved toward her with an arrogant grace that made her blood boil with anger and—to her shame— something more. Reaching out, he pulled loose the silky ribbons that tied her dress on her shoulders. Instantly, the gown slithered partway down her body, stopping at her hips. Zand’s breath scorched her cheek and stirred her hair. He gazed down at her breasts, and his breathing grew harsher. He lifted a hand and took one stiff nipple between his thumb and forefinger. A bolt of electric fire shot from Jalil’s breast down to her loins, adding fuel to the already smoldering heat between her legs. She braced herself for a painful squeeze or tug, but it didn’t come. Instead, his thumb and forefinger massaged the sensitive tip with gentle strokes, sending more waves of flame coursing through her body. She couldn’t stop the moan that broke from her lips or the needy way her hips arched toward him. Frick! The man was good. She wanted to be free of her bonds for another reason—so she could lean against him and melt into his arms. He moved closer to her, his body almost touching her. “You like this. I can smell the moisture that dampens your pussy.” His words dashed ice water on her growing arousal. Her lips twisted. Arrogant asshole. It might be worth a whipping or whatever he would do to her to spit in his handsome face. But no, she had to keep her head. She needed to get stronger, not weaker, if she was going to have any hope of escaping from this nightmare.
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She sucked in a breath and realized he was right. Her throbbing pussy must be sending out pheromones galore, inviting any nearby cock to fill its aching emptiness. Damn! She’d always enjoyed a lusty sex life, but her responsive body was betraying her, making this egotistic prick think she was some kind of slut craving his despicable touch. Like those kisses down her back. He’d lingered over the last one at the base of her spine where the swell of her buttocks started. The skin there burned as if branded. Her ass still tingled from his slaps. Summoning up all the defiance she possessed, she tossed her head. “I don’t like it. I’ll endure it because I have to, and don’t you forget at the end of it, you’ve promised me a crack at my ship. I’m going to get the hell off this world and tell the rest of the galaxy what’s going on here. You’ll soon learn what civilized people think of a world like this.” He laughed, soft and low. “You may regret this bargain when you see the condition of your ship, sweet lady, but don’t despair. Tonight I’ll make you glad you crashed here.” He inclined his head toward the bed. “I’ll make you whimper and moan and groan and beg me for the release of an orgasm.” A hot denial rose to her lips, but Zand had already moved away with the casual indifference of one who knows he is in complete control. Pausing at the door, he turned to stare at her again, and Jalil was all too aware of her stiff nipples and damp thighs, of the transparent gown clinging to her hips. His smile turned predatory. “Tonight.”
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Chapter Three
Sepella returned to the room, her face glowing with happiness. “My liege lord is very pleased with you, my lady.” Jalil closed her eyes and drew in a calming breath. “Great.” The single word almost stuck in her throat, but she’d made her decision. It was to her advantage to go along with this madness until Zand tired of her and let her return to her ship. He’d made no promises about when he might let her go, and she hadn’t pushed. Their agreement was fragile— almost unspoken—but it was her only lifeline to the future. Could she trust Zand? Opening her eyes, she studied Sepella. At the moment, the young servant was her sole source of information. She had to make Sepella believe she was thrilled by Zand’s sexual attentions. “Are you going to leave me hanging here until he comes back?” She pulled at the cuffs on her wrists for emphasis. “Of course not, my lady. You need to be prepared.” Sepella came hurrying over and bent to release the bindings on Jalil’s ankles. Jalil let out a sigh of relief when one foot came free. She fought down the urge to raise her foot and boot Sepella’s behind while the slave bent over the second ankle. It would make for a sweet moment, but she needed to stay savvy to get off this world. She www.samhainpublishing.com
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rubbed her wrists and eyed the bed. Did they plan to cuff her to the posts? “Prepared? How?” “Please don’t be anxious, my lady.” Sepella straightened with an ingratiating smile. “I’ll have something light to eat brought for you. A slave will give you a slow, relaxing massage with scented oils. Then we will find a gown that will accent your curves and breasts. Lord Zand will want to find you at ease and eager when he returns.” “At ease and eager. Sounds good to me.” Jalil tuned out Sepella’s continuing babble. She had a lot to figure out. Already the vague outline of a plan simmered in her mind. Just supposing she could get the Gypsy space worthy again, she still had to figure out where in the fricking galaxy she was. If this planet had retained its First Civilization technology, they must have star maps, but who would keep them? Okay, find a map, fix her ship, or if that failed, beseech all the powers of heaven that the subspace radio worked. She could use it to send out a distress signal. It might even be heard, provided she hadn’t crashed at the hind end of nowhere. It seemed like a series of long shots, even to her, but it was all she had. Still mentally juggling her plans, Jalil kicked away the gown, which had fallen to the floor. She was getting used to parading around naked. And she needed a lot more information about this world. It was a stroke of good fortune that Sepella seemed more than willing to talk. Jalil plastered what she hoped was an apologetic expression on her face. “You know, when I first saw you in that rather revealing costume, I thought I’d crashed into the middle of some primitive society, but I’ve realized I was mistaken. What you wear is expertly designed for your lord’s pleasure. Your culture must be quite sophisticated.” Sepella blushed and bent her head. “Thank you, my lady. I hope Lord Zane finds pleasure in my service. And while I know nothing of the worlds in the sky, I can promise you we are happy on Teymour.” Of course you are. Or at least Zand tells you that you are, and you believe him. Jalil bit her inner lip to keep from expressing her disdainful thoughts. “It appears as if this world has managed to preserve a lot of the First Civilization technology. What you’ve
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done here is quite an achievement. Much of the First Civilization’s advanced knowledge was lost during the devastating wars in my part of the galaxy. Our scientists struggle to understand how their machinery operated.” “We had an advanced science here.” Sepella smiled with pride. Jalil nodded, encouraging her to keep speaking. Some unexpected scrap of information might be her key to freedom. “Our ancestors selected Teymour because it lies beyond the outermost fringes of colonized space. When war broke out, they lay low, hoping our world would be forgotten. While the First Civilization fell, our world stayed peaceful, and our scientists handed down our technology from generation to generation. We have a group of scientists and technicians who see to such things.” Jalil enjoyed an inner glow of triumph. Pay dirt! “Do you? How fascinating. All under the rule of the Lord Imperator, I suppose. Does Zand know anything of technology?” Sepella giggled at the idea. “Oh, no, he’s a great lord, not some common scientist. Varsh, his estate manager, is the one responsible for overseeing the scientists who keep the First Civilization technology running here in Katarsh.” Varsh, the man Zand had given access to her ship! Damn, she needed to talk to this Varsh. He could tell her what condition the Gypsy was in, and he probably had access to star maps, too. She paced to the double doors and stood staring into the distance where the sea and sky met. Freedom! She had to keep her wits together and outsmart her captors. She turned her head to smile at Sepella. “How interesting. I’d love to meet Varsh and learn more about your world and the legacy he guards. Once I’ve satisfied Lord Zand, will I be permitted…” She let the question trail off. Sepella was already shaking her head. “Oh, no. The women of the seraglio are for Zand’s pleasure alone. You won’t be allowed to leave this part of the palace, or see other men.” “Zand has never let any woman out of his seraglio?” “No, my lady.”
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Stewing over this setback, Jalil chewed on her lower lip. “Earlier you said Varsh might want to see me if he couldn’t gain access to my ship.” Sepella’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry if I’m confusing you about our ways, my lady. Varsh might have been allowed to see you before Lord Zand examined you. But no longer, not now that Zand has decided to make you his sex slave. Varsh won’t be permitted to meet with you. Be glad of that, my lady. Varsh would stop at nothing to obtain the secrets of your ship. You are lucky Lord Zand cares little about the worlds beyond the stars, and you’ve found favor in his eyes. He’ll protect you from Varsh’s questioning.” Jalil bit back a rude remark. She was damned tired of people telling her how lucky she was. “What if I don’t want protecting?” Sepella gave a nervous laugh. “You don’t know what you’re saying. When Varsh questions someone, he stops at nothing to get an answer. A woman like you would be no match for him. He would soon have the secrets of your ship. But he won’t dare to touch you as long as his liege lord enjoys you.” Jalil ran a hand through her cropped hair. Her stomach churned with frustration. What the frick next? She’d given her consent to Zand in the hope he would let her return to the Gypsy when he tired of her. As the ruler of the region, he was almost certainly her best bet for eventual escape. On the other hand, this Varsh seemed determined to get his claws on the Gypsy, and as long as she kept Zand happy, she’d stand no chance of meeting him. Who knew what damage he might do to her ship in the meantime. This whole situation stank. Forgetting Sepella, she began to pace back and forth, thinking with furious speed. Moxie could hold Varsh off, but not forever. Given enough time, he’d either find a way to override her or cut into the command center. Besides, Varsh might be the better ally. He had the knowledge she needed to get home. Should she try to displease Zand in the hope he’d let her leave the seraglio so she could meet Varsh? But what if he got angry and rescinded their shaky deal? She rubbed her temples where a dull headache had begun to throb.
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“Don’t worry, my lady.” Sepella laid a hand on her arm, apparently mistaking her gesture for one of despair. “You will keep Lord Zand’s favor for a long time. There’s never been a woman like you here before, with hair like the sun and eyes like the sea. Lord Zand has yet to fall in love with any of the women in his seraglio. You may be the first.” A hopeful expression shone on the servant’s face as she spoke. Jalil wondered if Sepella’s fortunes were somehow tied to hers. The young woman certainly seemed desirous of her success. At any rate, it sounded like she was better off avoiding an interview with Varsh, at least for the present. She needed to solidify her position with Zand first. Jalil seized Sepella’s hand and gave the servant’s fingers a quick, friendly squeeze. She was going to need every ally. That much was obvious. “Zand has never loved a woman?” Sepella looked a little flustered. “My lord is with a doubt a great lover. He hasn’t given his heart to any of the women who are kept here for his pleasure, though.” “What about his lady wife? Does he have a wife?” “Not yet, although he needs to chose one soon. The people want an heir. The usual custom is for the liege lord to pick the favorite in his seraglio to be his wife.” Sepella lowered her head and gave Jalil a sly, sidelong glance. “Wonderful!” Hey, exactly the career change she was looking for. Still… “How about the woman he chooses to be his lady wife. Does she get out of this place?” “Why, yes, of course.” Sepella beamed her delight. “You’re right. The lord’s lady has a place at Zand’s side in the court.” “Okay.” Jalil straightened her shoulders. Good thing she’d always been goaloriented. The seraglio was rapidly turning into a minefield of dangerous possibilities. At least she found Zand somewhat sexually appealing. Maybe his fancy for blonde hair and blue eyes would be enough to get her out of this luxurious prison and into the court where she could corner Varsh and take the next step toward freedom. If only the goal didn’t seem so elusive and so far away…
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Standing by the open double doors, Jalil breathed in the night air. The breeze carried the salty tang of the ocean. Turning back to the room, she wiped her hands on her thighs. Nervous anticipation tingled along her nerve endings. Both she and the room had been prepared for Zand’s pleasure. The bed was turned down, revealing silk sheets. Candles in crystal bowls cast a flickering light on the walls and the painted ceiling. All was ready. Her heart beat faster as she waited for him to appear. She touched her hair, which had been curled to frame her face. It was far too short by this world’s standards, but Sepella had assured her that the pale gold strands would quicken his lust. Her servant had highlighted her eyes, too, with eyeliner and mascara and a pale, shimmering powder on her eyelids. And if none of those preparations were pleasing enough for him, the dress she wore was designed to set his male hormones on fire. Made of red silk, it left her creamy shoulders bare, but molded itself to the rest of her body, outlining every curve of breast, waist and hip before flaring into a soft, transparent skirt. Underneath she was nude and ready. With one tug on the wide silk ribbon tied in a bow at her back, the gown would fall away and bare her to that intent black stare. Gazing down, she assessed her body. She had to detach from it, to think of it as a weapon in a battle. She’d always hated her breasts, which were too full for the standardissue pressure suit in space. Perhaps they’d finally become an asset if their fullness pleased Zand. From the womanly roundness of her breasts, her body narrowed to a slender waist, then curved again with sexy hips and long, slim legs. Yes, she had a worthy weapon. Her challenge was to find the strength and determination to use it. It wouldn’t be easy letting this man touch her and take her for his pleasure, but she must so she could use him, too. She would conquer Zand and after him, she’d take on this unknown man, Varsh. Together they would give her back her freedom. Voices sounded in the corridor outside, interrupting her hope-filled reverie. Her head jerked up. The guards greeted someone with deferential words. She licked her lips, and the door swung open to reveal Zand.
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Letting the door swing shut behind him, he strode into the room. His posture radiated confidence. Jalil was impressed again by his sheer size, his height and massive chest. Tonight he wore a short white tunic that came to his thighs and revealed long, muscular legs. Golden sandals were strapped to his feet. She raised her gaze to his face. Beneath thick lashes, his dark eyes smoldered with sexual knowledge. A golden circlet restrained the heavy braids of midnight hair, pulling them back from strong cheekbones. He pursed his sensuous mouth as if he already imagined kissing her. “You look beautiful.” Jalil’s skin grew hot. The air around Zand pulsed with the vibrant energy he brought into a room. Her heartbeat quickening, she wondered if his powerful charm extended to the bed. “Thank you, my lord.” Jalil lowered her head, trying to imitate the demure posture she’d watched in Sepella. Her stomach twisted in protest. Every instinct screamed at her to put up a fight and flee back to the Gypsy Gal. Not a viable plan. For the moment, she had to pretend to enjoy this. She had no choice. “Turn around for me. I want to see all of you.” Swallowing hard, Jalil turned in a slow circle, holding out her arms so he could admire every inch of her body, which was fully displayed by the scarlet gown. Zand came closer. Jalil resisted the urge to back away. She’d never backed down from a man before. But he crowded into her private space, towering over her. His masculine, musky scent made her feel lightheaded. “Red is the right color for you, the color of passion. It makes your skin look whiter, like sweet cream. Do you taste like cream, too, I wonder?” Curiosity glittered in his eyes. He bent his head, grasped her arms to hold her still, and pressed his lips to the swell of her breast above the tight bodice of the gown. Jalil wondered if he could hear her heartbeat thundering in his ears. His mouth wandered lower into the hollow between her breasts, his rough, hot tongue rasping over her flesh. He grabbed her waist, pulling her against him. His hips moved forward, grinding his erection into her stomach.
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Frick! His manhood dug into her, thick and hard. His tongue raked over the fabric of the gown where it clung to the erect tip of her nipple. A hot bolt of pleasure shot from her breast down to the flesh between her legs. Drowned in the pleasure of the moment, she groaned. “I like a responsive woman.” He lifted his head, and his bold smile flashed bright in the candlelight. “Your skin tastes wonderful. How about your mouth?” For answer, she leaned into his embrace, inviting him to hold her close. He pulled her hard against him, wrapping his arms around her. His cock rammed into her stomach. She had time for a single breath before his mouth lowered and claimed hers in a hot, demanding kiss. His lips were thorough, moving over hers with sensual deliberation, crushing her mouth with bruising passion, until her lips grew swollen and she groaned with her awakening need. Only when she trembled beneath him did he slip his tongue between her teeth to taste her secret depths. He wrapped his tongue around hers and drew the rough surface in and out of her mouth, each time plunging deeper in a promise of what was to come. She clung to him, breathless and dizzy, when he broke the kiss at last. He stood for an endless moment, his dark eyes unreadable, staring at her parted, swollen lips. His gaze shifted toward the bed. Jalil pressed a hand to her neck where her pulse beat hard. Could she do this? What choice did she have? At least Zand knew how to kiss a woman. Perhaps Sepella was right, and he would prove to be an accomplished lover. Perhaps she would actually enjoy the sex. He was hung, that much was certain. Her body ached where the hard length of his thick cock had pressed into her. Its outline had seared her flesh through the thin layers of fabric that separated them. “Do you want me to get into the bed?” She tilted her head and fluttered her eyelashes, hoping her submissive attitude would please him. To her surprise, he shook his head. “No. A bed is too ordinary. I don’t want to take you like every other woman, on your back with your legs spread. I want a more memorable place for our first joining. You are a woman of spirit, a woman who must be
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possessed. Before I enter you, I want to make you writhe and scream with passion and beg me for the release my cock will give.” Yeah, right. The fricking, arrogant male must think he had god’s gift to women between his legs. Jalil fought to keep her disgust from her face. Fortunately for her, Zand was paying no attention to her expression. His gaze fastened on her breasts. With a quick movement, he reached behind her back and tugged at the ribbon that fastened her gown. “First we must free you from all restraints.” Instantly, the bow came undone and the dress slid down her body to pool at her feet, baring her nakedness to the scorching stare of this man who claimed to own her. Jalil gasped. She wanted nothing more than to clap her hands over her breasts and turn to hide the tuft of hair between her legs, but she willed herself to stand motionless with her arms at her sides and let him look. His lips stretched wide in a pleased smile. “Beautiful!” His attention finally returned to her face. He cupped her chin in his hand and rubbed her cheek with his thumb. “And I don’t mean beauty of the body alone. You’ve an undaunted spirit. I look forward to making you mine.” With slow deliberation, his gaze wandered from her face to her breasts. Her nipples hardened under his stare, and her skin flushed pink across her chest. Frick, he probably thought she was some eager slut. He glanced up, a smirk of triumph on his lips, and she glared back at him. She halfexpected a slap in return, but instead he laughed, his broad shoulders shaking with amusement. “Glower away, my pet. I told you, I like spirit. Your glares make the prospect of seducing you that much sweeter for me. I promise you that I’m going to bring you to an orgasm beyond any you’ve ever experienced.” Jalil sniffed with disdain and tried to ignore the sudden throbbing between her legs. Words, nothing more. Zand’s smile grew wider. His fingertips brushed lightly over the soft swell of her stomach and buried themselves in the golden patch of hair at the V of her thighs. The longer he stroked her, the more uneasy she became. Despite her best efforts to despise
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him, her body responded to each caress, and her skin burned with the memory of his touch. Frick, he aroused her. Desire blazed ever hotter in her loins, and her pussy began to throb in a slow, measured beat. Her skin grew warm and moist, and deeper moisture slicked her inner sheath, making it wet and ready. Damn, it didn’t matter what her mind thought about this so-called seraglio, her body was eager for the first thrust of his cock. Zand twisted the strands of golden pubic hair between his fingers into a curl, then patted it down. “The heavens have sent a true gift my way.” He placed one hand on her shoulder and tilted her chin up with the other so she was forced to look into his eyes. Her breath caught in her throat. His eyes were his best feature, alive with intelligence and humor. For a moment, he didn’t seem like a despot at all. Her anger melted. Through the erotic haze starting to cloud her mind, she reminded herself that she’d given him her consent. She’d agreed to have sex with him. So why not enjoy the seduction? Summoning a flirtatious smile to her lips, she bowed her head. “Thank you. I accept the compliment.” At least the man wasn’t acting like some primitive ape, throwing her down on the bed and taking her. He had some remnants of civilized behavior. And, she supposed, what he was doing was justified according to his culture. He had saved her life, and she was his slave. “I promise you, you’ll find pleasure in my body, also.” He pulled his tunic over his head and threw it to the floor. “In return for her submission, a slave is owed pleasure.” Jalil was not surprised to see that he wore nothing under the white robe. She surveyed his nude form, her earlier anger suddenly forgotten. The tunic had concealed a broad chest covered with curly dark hair that narrowed down to a V just above his navel. His stomach was flat and hard, the muscles well-defined. Below it, at the juncture of his thighs, his cock reared up, hard and long, a bead of moisture glistening on the thick head. Damn, he was huge. She resisted the urge to take a step back. Her pussy quivered in anticipation. “Follow me.” Zand turned on his heel and strode from the bedroom into the bathroom.
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Jalil hesitated a moment, admiring his broad back and the sexy sway of his tight butt. At the doorway he turned and made an imperious gesture. Her stomach twisting with anticipation, she followed. Once inside the spacious bathroom, she expected him to lead her into the pool, but instead he opened the shower door. “Step inside.” Her heartbeat quickening, Jalil moved past him into the large structure, which was enclosed in glass. Inside, the shower featured two walls of black marble covered with faucets with different kinds of heads and handholds placed at various heights. What kind of shower was this? She pictured sharing it with Zand while rivers of warm water slid down their bodies and their naked flesh grew slick and shining. Her stomach tightened with desire. Zand followed behind her and let the glass door click shut. Now they were enclosed together in a transparent cage. He turned, giving her another delightful view of his muscled back and firm buttocks. He fiddled for a moment with some knobs. Warm water began to sprinkle from a showerhead high above, falling over her head and shoulders like a soft spring rain. Tiny droplets beaded on her breasts. Zand turned back to her with a teasing smile. His dark eyes glowed with passion, but she imagined she saw an endearing humor shining there, too. Reaching out, he touched his fingertip to a drop of water that clung to the tip of one taut nipple. Jalil sucked in a startled breath. The gesture was both erotic and tender. It unsettled her. This Zand was turning out to be more complex than she’d thought, more, perhaps, than an arrogant despot determined to possess her. Not that she cared. She was equally determined to please him, to win her way out of any cage he might put her in. Soft droplets rained around them. He withdrew his hand and grinned. “You’re getting wet.” His eyes danced with warm laughter. “I can help.” His arm snaked around her slick waist, drawing her to him. Her breasts pressed into the thick mat of his chest hair. He put a hand behind her head and pulled her face to his. He kissed her lips and planted a trail of kisses down her neck. She arched her back with pleasure, her moans growing louder while his mouth explored the round fullness of one
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breast. He found the swollen peak and took it into his mouth, his tongue dancing in a wicked circle around the exquisitely sensitive tip, sucking up the droplets that rained over them both. Jalil’s throat tightened with sudden desire. She gazed down at the midnight tangle of his braids, perplexed by the pleasure she found in his touch. Was it his sureness, his confidence, the roguish gleam in those midnight-black eyes? Or the strange thrill that shot through her intimate flesh each time she experienced submission? What the frick was that about? She was a seasoned pilot, a hard-headed business woman, not some fragile flower to melt at Zand’s first commanding glance. She would never have tried sex like this willingly, and yet that was the point. She’d made an astounding discovery—that something inside her welcomed the thrill of yielding, of letting this man control her. Was it just her survival instincts kicking in, or had he touched some deep, unknown part of her psyche? The answer evaded her, swallowed by the pulsing flame below her belly. Warm rivulets of water ran down her bare skin and the heat rose within the glassed-in enclosure. Zand’s relentless lips sucked on her stiff, aching nipple, making her pussy throb in helpless response. She couldn’t hold back a deep moan of pleasure. She wanted him to keep on forever. She wanted him to take the other breast in his mouth and suck that needy nipple, too. The fire smoldering between her legs grew in intensity. Other parts of her wanted to be sucked and stroked. Zand’s teeth nipped at her, drawing a gasp from her lips. He released her ravished breast and took her other nipple into his mouth. She closed her eyes. The warm water fell like a gentle mist all around her and pleasure flowed like a never-ending stream through every nerve ending. She should hate this man and his repressive culture, but she had to admit, this was bliss. She let out a long sigh of wanton pleasure. The warm wetness of his lips caressed her swollen breast. His tongue laved her aroused nipple. The flesh between her legs had grown swollen and tender from the mounting tension in her core. He sucked harder at her nipple, and her body began to move in a responsive rhythm. She opened her thighs and half-leaned against him, her breathing loud in her ears. Maybe the healing
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chamber hadn’t completed its work after all. Her legs wobbled under her, and she found it difficult to stand. The mounting ache of desire between her thighs grew fiercer. Zand began to kiss her wantonly, everywhere, and her body trembled wherever his lips touched. “You see, submission has its pleasures.” He raised his head for a moment and actually dared to give her a wink. She wanted to bridle at his words, to hate him for his arrogance, but there was nothing condescending in his tone. He seemed pleased by her arousal. Smiling, he slid his hands over her damp skin, continuing his exploration, tracing the dip of her waist, the curve of her hips, stroking her pubic hair and pressing on her sensitive clitoris with quick, teasing fingers until she groaned aloud. Frick it! She wanted him, wanted him every bit as much as he had said she would. Gasping, she lifted her head and breathed in the steamy air. She had a role to play. She had to remember the reason she’d agreed to this sexual submission. It was just an unexpected bonus that his seduction was turning out to be so pleasurable. Letting out a little whimper of need for effect, she groped for his cock. The thought of his long, hard shaft inside her aroused an unexpected excitement. “Jalil.” He whispered her name and moved back so that her hand closed on empty air. His mocking smile returned. Damn the man, he knew how to make a woman want him. Yet she found his erotic playfulness appealing. He turned away and fiddled with the handles in the shower. The sound of rushing water filled the small enclosure. With a laugh of pure delight, he faced her again and took her back into his arms. Her naked flesh seemed to melt against his. They pressed together and his hardness poked into the bare flesh of her stomach. He moved his hips against her, wet skin sliding over wet skin, the rock hard shaft caught between them. When she reached for him, he pushed her hand aside. His scorching look held a promise. “You’ll have it soon enough. For now, we share a shower.”
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With another soft laugh, he pulled her under the showerhead. Hot water cascaded over her aroused skin. Jalil gasped. Zand plucked a bar of soap from a recess. He held it in one hand and began rubbing it over her breasts. Feeling weak, Jalil leaned against the black marble wall of the shower and let her eyes flutter shut, afraid her knees would fail her. Zand slid the bar of soap over her wet skin in slow, sensuous circles. He lathered her breasts, then her stomach, then the hair covering the entrance to her womanhood. As she felt his hand move lower, slipping between her legs, she opened her eyes. Zand stood toe-to-toe with her. He looked devastatingly handsome with his many braids of black hair plastered around his head. Drops of water glittered in the mat of hair that covered his broad chest. He leaned forward to kiss her. At the same moment, he pressed her legs farther apart. The soap bar rubbed against her intimate flesh. When he switched the bar to his other hand and continued to explore her swollen labia with his fingers, she jerked with each touch. “Relax. I know how to please a woman, and I intend to please you.” Locking his gaze with hers, he slipped one finger inside her. Without thinking, she arched her hips. The pressure of another finger against her clit lit a fire of wild desire in her belly. A raw moan full of yearning escaped her lips. Zand pulled his finger out of her body. His pupils grew huge with a feral hunger, as black as the marble that surrounded them. Jalil pressed her back against the smooth surface for support and spread her legs wider, sure he was about to grab her hips and thrust into her. Instead, he shook his head, sending droplets of water splattering against her face and breasts. “Turn around.” When she obeyed, he gripped her at the hips and pushed her forward, forcing her to stumble toward the other wall. “Grab those handles.” She saw two metal handles embedded in the stone at waist height. Her heart pounding, she bent down and grabbed them. Behind her, Zand spread her legs wider.
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This was it, and by the gods, he was right. She wanted it. She held tight to the handles and braced her legs to keep from slipping on the floor. Water cascaded over her back and down the crack of her buttocks, rushing over her inflamed pussy. The hard head of his cock pressed open the folds of her tender slit. She wiggled her butt upward to give him better access to her opening and held her breath. Frick, she was shaking like a virgin. His fingers dug into her butt, holding her still. Lunging forward, he rammed deep into her. He filled her, stretching her sheath, his hard heat pressing against her slick inner walls. A wave of intense pleasure crashed outward from her womb, the ripples reaching to the tips of her fingers and toes. She couldn’t stop the shivers, couldn’t stop herself from pushing against him, driving him deeper. “Easy, my sweet.” Zand’s grip on her buttocks tightened, holding her in place. “We’re going to have all the time in the world to enjoy each other.” He withdrew his cock with a slow deliberation that made her whimper with need. When the head once more teased the yearning flesh at the entrance to her slit, he leaned over her. His breath tickled the back of her neck. “What do you say now?” Jalil could hardly breathe. She felt dizzy with the heat of the shower, the relentless rush of the water over her bent back, the fierceness of her desire. Her loins clenched, hungry to be filled again. With an effort, she swallowed her pride. “I want you. Please take me.” He laughed. “What do you want? Tell me?” She pressed her lips together. Frick, the man was relentless. He rubbed his cock against the swollen folds of her pussy. “I can’t hear you.” “Damn you, I want you to fuck me. Is that what you want to hear?” His tongue licked at the delicate bones in the back of her neck, sending shivers cascading down her spine. “Fuck you how?” Moisture filled her eyes and she was grateful for the water cascading all around them. “I want you to ram your cock in me, over and over.”
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“With pleasure.” He thrust into her a second time, going deeper, his balls smacking against her wet ass. He held her tight to him with one arm around her waist. The other hand caressed her water-slick breasts. “Do you like what I’m doing to you?” “Yes, oh, yes.” Unable to deny the lust that shook her body, Jalil raised her face to the cascade of water pouring from the showerhead above and let it wash over her. Zand thrust into her again and a helpless moan escaped her lips. His long, hard length penetrated and filled her like no other man had ever done. He began to move in a steady, continual rhythm while steam rose up around them, coating the glass doors, sealing them into a private world of passion. His pounding cock set her pussy on fire. Passion blazed up inside her. Her loins tightened, caressing him each time he plunged into her. Each powerful thrust added to the unbearable pleasure between her legs. She grabbed tighter at the handholds and threw back her head. The unendurable fire in her womb exploded. Her whole body shook. Shudders rippled outward to her arms and legs. Zand grabbed her ass with both hands and lunged into her one more time, his body stiffening. Together, they cried out, one in the wild release of their shared orgasm.
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Chapter Four
Dazzling sunlight danced off stone and sand and water. Squinting against the glare, Jalil examined the sleek aircraft in front of her. Her heart did a little somersault of anticipation. She was standing on a long concrete runway next to Zand’s private beach. Pure white sand stretched down to a crystalline blue sea. Overhead, a sapphire sky held only a few puffy white clouds. It was a perfect day for flying, a perfect day to savor the freedom of the skies. This aircraft was Zand’s private flyer. Today, for the first time since she’d crashed on Teymour almost a month ago, she was leaving her luxurious prison. Zand had promised her a tour of his estate—a precious afternoon away from the stifling confines of the seraglio. With a wave, Zand dismissed the driver who’d brought them to the landing strip. He grabbed her elbow and tugged her toward the steps, which led up into the main body of the aircraft. “Come, my sweet. There’s much to see.” “And I want to see it.” Zand had promised her they would fly over the capital city of Katarsh, which lay on the coast. His private estate bordered the edge of the city. Zand
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also planned to fly inland, so she could see some of his vast holdings—lands and villages, which he claimed were prosperous and filled with happy subjects. Jalil crossed her fingers behind her back. With a bit of luck, she might spot the wreckage of her ship somewhere during the flight. Despite her best efforts to pry some information out of Zand, she had no idea where she’d come down. She preceded him up the stairs and entered a small, luxurious cabin. Thick beige carpeting covered the floor. Comfortable-looking couches and chairs lined the curved walls. Those walls had appeared opaque from the outside, but inside they were transparent, allowing a sweeping view of the beach and sea. Soft music played from hidden speakers, and a table set near one of the couches held a silver tray with a bucket of ice and a bottle of some beverage. Two crystal glasses stood waiting on each side of the bucket. As much as Jalil despised her enforced slavery, she had to appreciate the magnificent luxury. For the past month, Zand had treated her like a princess. She lived in opulent quarters, and he showered her with gorgeous clothes and breath-taking jewels. He seemed to genuinely want her happy, and as far as she knew, he slept only with her, yet he refused to acknowledge her deep discontent at being kept a prisoner. For his whole life, women had fought for his pleasure, and the idea that one might willingly want to leave his seraglio seemed beyond his comprehension. Zand gestured. “Have a seat. I’ll tell the pilot we’re ready to take off.” Jalil sat on the couch and adjusted the long, flowing garment she wore. For this trip outside the seraglio, Sepella had dressed her in an all-engulfing black robe. The heavy cloth covered her from her neck to her feet. All that showed of her body was her face and hands. In accordance with Zand’s desires, though, she was nude underneath. Zand stuck his head through a door at the end of the cabin and spoke to someone on the other side. A servant appeared, dressed in a white uniform. He pressed a button by the cabin door and the outer stairs retracted with a low whine into the craft. The servant shut and secured the door and vanished back into the pilot’s cabin.
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Zand rejoined her, sinking into the couch at her side. “We’ll be airborne in a moment.” She made a sweeping gesture to take in the transparent glass all around them. “The view should be terrific. But I’ve never heard of a glass that can hold up to the stresses of flight.” Zand laughed. “It’s not glass. It’s a First Civilization material, something we’ve always known how to manufacture.” “I see.” Acceleration pushed Jalil back into her seat. The small craft lifted off the ground with barely a sound. She pursed her lips, impressed. “What kind of engines does this thing use?” “None at all. It operates with an antigravity device, again something we have always had. You don’t have antigravity in your Federation?” “No.” Jalil half-turned away, hoping to avoid more of Zand’s probing questions about the Federation. They had spent the past few weeks locked in the throes of mutual passion, exploring every inch of each other’s bodies—over and over again—but in those quiet pauses when they rested and gathered strength for another bout of lovemaking, she’d learned that the liege lord of Katarsh was an intelligent and perceptive man—a man who did not seem too impressed by what he’d learned of her civilization. It embarrassed her now to remember how at first she’d felt so superior to him, both intellectually and morally. The shock of waking up in a seraglio had twisted her perceptions of this man and his world. She had thought she’d crashed landed in some primitive backwater. But as the weeks passed she’d begun to see the truth. While she might not agree with the percepts upon which Teymour’s culture was based, the planet was home to a wealthy and sophisticated civilization. As she’d expected, Zand lived in total ignorance of the vast sweep of history in the galaxy since the fall of the First Civilization. On the other hand, he knew much more about the details of that long-lost civilization than she did. In the Federation, the First Civilization was a glorious legend. Here on Teymour, the descendants of those who had
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fled its repression took a dimmer view of its glory. Teymour, after all, had never fallen back into barbarism. And then there was the matter of science. She swiftly learned that Zand matched her knowledge of astronomy, physics, and mathematics…all the sciences. And he claimed he was no expert. The true scientists of Teymour had advanced far beyond any knowledge in the Federation and helped to maintain the almost effortless prosperity of this world. Frick! It galled her to think she might be from a technologically inferior civilization. Well, at least where she came from, they didn’t keep slaves or treat women like chattel. She still clung to that bit of superiority, even while she reveled in the nights when Zand came to her bed and she experienced sexual fulfillment beyond her wildest imaginings. “Something to drink?” Zand’s question broke into her thoughts. He pulled the bottle from the ice bucket and twisted the cap off. Smiling, he poured a bright blue liquid into the two glasses. He leaned against the soft cushions of the couch and studied her face. “I want this day to be special. I want you to see my world as I see it. Teymour is like a secret garden, sheltered from the galaxy, protected, cultivated, and rich in a unique beauty.” She cocked her head to one side, unable to resist the urge to challenge him. She might have become his bed toy, but she clung to her independence in little ways. “Why? What does it matter what I think?” He smiled and immediately her rebellion diminished. He had a smile that never failed to touch her heart, boyish and charming. “Everything about you is important to me, Jalil. You’ve blown—or should I say crashed?—into my life and stunned me with your beauty and fascinated me with your otherworldly ways.” “I’m different, that’s all. You’ll tire of me soon enough.” Jalil spoke with a careless nonchalance, as if his affections were of no concern to her, but the thought of their inevitable parting darkened her spirits. He reached out and wrapped a finger in one of her short golden curls. “Yes, you’re different. That’s part of what I find so appealing about you. But the difference that enchants me goes far beyond hair or eyes or skin. It goes much deeper.”
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She pulled back, somehow alarmed by the intense light in his dark, drowning eyes Shakily, she raised the glass he’d given her. “A toast to the day, then?” He arched his brows at her attempt to deflect his intimate appraisal, but refused to release her from his commanding stare. “Your body already knows what your heart refuses to admit, Jalil. But I will continue strengthening our bond until I enjoy your full submission—body and soul, physical and emotional.” Jalil clutched the delicate crystal glass so hard she was afraid it might shatter in her hand. His words were a challenge. It was one thing to submit to physical joining. In her own culture, she was a free woman, unhampered by the repressions of the past. Zand’s sexual demands didn’t frighten her, and his expertise made the actual physical acts extremely pleasurable. She was prepared to grant him that much. But an emotional sharing was something else, something dangerous. She meant to escape from this world, after all—and soon. Already she feared her body might always crave what he had shown her. She didn’t need a constant ache of reminder in her heart, too. “You can try.” She knew it was a risk to issue her own challenge to this masterful man, but she had no intention of submitting her heart to his whims. His lips quirked in a rueful grin. “I can, and I will. Meanwhile, let’s enjoy this opportunity to explore my world together. I want to show you everything I love.” He touched his glass to hers. “This is a sweet liquor from the northern reaches of my estate. I hope you like it.” Jalil raised the drink to her lips and took a small slip. The liquor filled her mouth with a taste like honey, but warmed her throat as it went down. She set the glass back on the table and leaned forward to gaze out the sides of the craft. Already the landing strip and beach had dwindled to a small patch beneath them. She could see the road they’d taken from the palace to the beach and the palace itself, a vast building constructed around a series of courtyards and surrounded by lush grounds and gardens. They rose higher, and she caught her first glimpse of Katarsh’s capital city, Jah Angur, beyond the estate. A little gasp escaped her.
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“It occupies seven hills here along the bay.” Zand touched a finger to the glass side of the craft, pointing out each hill and describing the history of the city. As he talked, Jalil studied his face. Faint laugh lines marked his eyes and his full, sensual mouth. In the past few weeks, she’d discovered he had a rich sense of humor and laughed often. Today, his smile flashed again and again, and his eyes shone with pride. Below, the city gleamed in the sunlight, its shining glass and white stone untouched by dirt or decay. She could sense Zand’s pleasure in its beauty and the great satisfaction he took in showing her his realm. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her up onto his lap. His warm breath tickled the back of her neck, stirring the heated currents of passion that blazed higher between them with each encounter. Her heart beat a little faster, and she wondered how much of the flight would be devoted to sightseeing after all. Leaning forward, she gazed down at broad, tree-lined streets and magnificent villas painted in vivid gay colors. The buildings glowed in the rich afternoon light. Vehicles moved along the streets and people were out walking. The air looked crisp and clear without a trace of pollution. Each hill was topped with green spaces, which he told her were parks. None of the buildings look dirty or rundown. As they flew in widening circles over the city, she saw nothing but pristine structures. “Where are the manufacturing districts? Or the ghettoes?” Zand kissed the back of her neck. His fingers played with the collar of the gown she wore. She pressed her thighs together against the heat that awoke in her core whenever he touched her like this. Her skin tingled with renewed awareness of her nakedness under the cloth. She couldn’t deny the pleasure his touch gave her. But it was physical, nothing else. Her quickening heartbeat was only anticipation. She wiggled on his lap and enjoyed the instant hardening of his cock against her butt. Zand drew in a sharp breath. “Damn it, woman, how am I supposed to answer your questions when you do that?” “You’re the one who put me on your lap.”
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“True.” He growled against her neck, but it was a playful sound, without anger. To her dismay, Jalil realized she was smiling, too, happy in their mutual pleasure. Frick! Zand was too charming by far. She had to fight him. “So answer my question,” she snapped. “All manufacturing is done by robotics, in underground factories. But most of our materials are durable, which means we have little need of manufacturing. As for ghettoes, I recognize the word from history, but we have none on Teymour.” “I see.” She forced coldness into her voice. Zand had to realize she would never approve of his culture. The worlds they came from were too far apart. “All the poor people here are slaves.” “Slaves?” Bending down, Zand grabbed the hem of her garment. He pulled it up, gathering her skirt over her knees, baring her long, shapely legs. “I know how you hate that word, my sweet, but on Teymour we have a different philosophy.” She cocked her head to one side, bracing herself for another debate. They’d had this exchange several times already, and she’d found his arguments unexpectedly formidable. Not to mention the surprising delight she found in sparring with a lover. Her other men hadn’t had the same intellectual interests, and she found the change refreshing. Maybe too refreshing. Damn the man! He could fuck her into a sexual stupor and then rouse her with a vigorous debate. It was an intoxicating combination. She could understand why the women in his seraglio succumbed to his charm. But she wasn’t going to back down. “And what is your philosophy?” “We believe every man and woman is a slave of fate and chance in one way or another.” “So slavery reflects the reality of life?” She found the thought disturbing, yet it held a certain measure of truth. “Exactly. You can be a slave to poverty or to sickness just as surely as to another person. My duty, as ruler of this province, is to do my best to see that none suffer a fate untouched by mercy. A slave is treated well on our world, and those who prove valuable
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are given bonuses for their efforts. If they work hard and save their money, in time they can buy their freedom.” “I see.” Her chin came up. She opposed slavery of any kind, but she could see why he considered Teymour’s social system humane. Did the crowded millions living on the Federation worlds enjoy any more freedom than the people here? They had no choice but to work unending hours to pay for even the most basic food and shelter. Suddenly, she wanted to change the subject. She’d had enough of these endless arguments. She studied his profile and wondered about his boyhood. Would he answer her personal questions? And why do you want to ask them? a part of her demanded. The question startled her. Frick, why indeed? It wasn’t like they were friends as well as lovers. What the frick did she care about his childhood? Beside her, Zand shook his head, still engrossed in their argument about slavery. “I doubt you understand our culture at all. Like any visitor, you judge our world by the standards of your own. Here we have different standards, and by them, I’m considered a wise and just ruler. Yes, I have slaves, but I believe they are happy in their lives. Perhaps if I traveled to your Federation and spoke to your poor I would discover our slaves are better off.” She stiffened her spine, offended by the very idea. A slave better off than a free human. Impossible! “You’ve no idea what you’re talking about. You’ve never seen the Federation.” He regarded her with a look of mild reproach. “And you haven’t seen our world. Slavery is nothing but a word. We have laws to protect the individual here, too. When you are allowed more freedom and can go among my people, you’ll be able to judge the situation for yourself. At any rate, I know from history how the poor lived in the First Civilization. I doubt the Federation is any better. Here our slaves have their own homes, which you see below you, and they are well fed and healthy. I would guess that the Federation has teeming masses of poor on many worlds, struggling for survival, unsure where their next meal is coming from. Which is worse in the eyes of the gods, I wonder?”
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Sighing, Jalil scanned the beautiful city spread out below. She’d thought he’d exaggerated the wealth and prosperity of his world, but she’d been wrong. He’d told her the simple truth. She wished she could deny the existence of ghettos and slums in the Federation, but he was right, damn his eyes! “What about the sick?” “The Healing Centers are open to all. Our technology works well, as you know from personal experience.” “I know. I should be dead.” Instead, she felt very much alive, particularly at this moment with the heat of his thighs burning through her dress to scorch her buttocks. Zand leaned closer and nipped gently at her earlobe with his teeth. “Have I told you today how glad I am that you’re not? I thank the gods every day that you crashed in my domain.” He licked the inner shell of her ear with his tongue and nibbled again on the lobe, sending shivers of delight cascading through her body. He gathered the fabric of her dress in his hands and pulled, yanking the material up to her waist. Her heartbeat quickened. He’d exposed the lower half of her body. Her naked thighs rested on his. She could feel his cock twitch against her bare skin and knew his desire was barely controlled. The craft followed the coastline. She watched the last tower of the city of Jah Angur fade into the distance. Below lay miles of forests and green fields. The land appeared wild and beautiful, unbroken by the harsh, straight lines of roads. Zand’s chest pressed against her back and she could hear the thunder of his heart, too. She licked her lips, troubled by the sudden intensity of her need for him. Sex with Zand was starting to feel too much like lovemaking. If only he were the tyrant she’d first imagined, and not the charming, cultivated man she was discovering. She stiffened her spine, determined to defuse the growing sexual tension in the cabin. She had to keep him engaged in banal conversation. She cleared her throat. “How do you usually travel beyond the city?” She might as well ask a question that would help her if she ever got free of the seraglio and headed for her ship.
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His hands stroked her exposed thighs, but his voice stayed calm. “Transportation is by air, in craft such as this one. It is silent, it doesn’t pollute and it can land almost anywhere. Besides, each province on Teymour takes pride in its self-sufficiency. People have no need to travel except for pleasure.” She swallowed. The heat of his palms on her skin made her insides melt. She fought to think of another question before her brain shut down completely. “What are the provinces like outside the cities?” “Look below.” Zand pointed off to the west. Jalil spotted an imposing building, much like the palace in Jah Angur. Hundreds of smaller villas were gathered in a circle around it. Beyond lay fields with crops growing under the heat of the sun. “The home of one of my sublords and his slaves.” “I see. They work in his fields.” A welcome indignation flooded through her, distracting her from her growing desire for him. She twisted around with a glare. “That’s backbreaking labor.” Zand laughed and gave a lock of her hair a playful tug. “Again you are mistaken, my sweet. Farming is automated. The tractors drive themselves, steered by autoguidance through satellites. And the crops are bioengineered, which means they’re not subject to disease or pests. The slaves are well-educated mechanics and computer experts who oversee the process.” Biting down on her lip, Jalil faced front. Zand encircled her waist with his hands. Frick! She was wet and more than ready for sex. Where was the hatred she’d felt in the beginning, now that she really needed it? Each time they made love, her feelings about this complex man grew deeper. He filled her with a passion far stronger than hate. Her craving for him mounted with every day that passed, leaving her powerless and trembling. She only hoped he was feeling the same terrible longings. But why? Did she want him to suffer? Or did she crave the same emotional joining he claimed he wanted? She shook her head, fighting off her confusion. “So is Teymour the perfect world?”
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Zand’s hands burrowed under the garment gathered at her waist. She couldn’t stop an intense shiver of pleasure at his touch. His skilled fingers swept up over her ribcage to find and knead her breasts. She groaned and leaned back against his chest. He slid an arm under her knees and lifted her. Guessing his intention, she spread her legs wider. The head of his cock found her opening and thrust upward. “Oh, god!” She arched her back and pressed her hips into his lap, sinking downward until she was fully impaled on his hard length. He wrapped his arms around her again, covering her breasts with his hands and squeezing until she writhed on his cock. He let loose a low growl of laughter. “I’ve never known sexual pleasure like this before, Jalil. You’re like a drug I can’t get enough of. It’s not just physical between us. Our souls fit together. I’m going to keep on loving you until you admit it.” He began to move inside her. Each stroke drew a helpless shudder from her body. She was bound by his embrace, impaled on his cock, while he ravaged her as he pleased. And her traitorous heart reveled in the unspeakable pleasure. Frick! If she spotted the Gypsy, would she even want to plan an escape? Her head fell back onto his shoulder. He kissed her neck, her exposed throat, while she cried his name and convulsed in orgasm.
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Chapter Five
Leaning against the glass of the aircraft, Jalil watched the ruby rays of Teymour’s setting sun sparkle over the silver sea foam. Without a sound, the craft settled to the ground on a small strip near the palace. Nearby, a gleaming white yacht floated at the end of a long dock. “What’s this?” She turned in surprise to Zand, who was watching her with an affectionate smile. Pleasure warmed her voice. “Are we going on a cruise, too?” He lifted her hand and kissed it gallantly. “I thought you might enjoy supper at sea. Also, there’s someone I want you to meet.” “Oh?” Jalil sat up straighter and shot a searching look at her master. What was this? According to Sepella, it was unheard of for one of Zand’s sex slaves to be allowed to meet another man. Zand pulled her back onto his lap. He gathered her gown up around her waist, then laid a hand on her knee and caressed upward, over the top of her thigh. His long fingers dipped between her legs to play with her intimate flesh, which was moist from their lovemaking. “We’ll be dining with my estate manager, Lord Varsh. Next to me, he is the most powerful man in Katarsh.”
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Jalil’s cheeks grew hot. Zand’s fingers had slipped deeper into her slick depths. She hoped he thought her rising color came from her arousal at his touch, not from the sudden hope his words kindled. Varsh was the man who’d been put in charge of her crashed ship. Maybe she’d find a way to escape after all, and she’d better seize it before…before what? The thought refused to form, and she shook it off, concentrating on the practical. Sepella had said Varsh was the liaison with the scientists of this world. If she could somehow make him an ally, he might let her see a star map. With one glance, she’d know where the hell she was. When Zand tired of her, as he certainly would one day, she’d be ready to go…if she could repair Gypsy. If…if…if…too many “ifs,” but what other chance did she have? Zand’s fingers moved in a relentless rhythm inside her, in and out, taking her breath away. She fought to speak. “I’ll be honored. Will I have a chance to wash? I must reek of sex.” Zand withdrew his fingers and slipped one arm around her waist and the other under her legs, lifting and turning her to face him. Guessing his wish, she rose up on her knees and positioned her pussy above the swollen head of his cock. He grabbed her waist, pulling her down. “I love the way you smell, and everything about you.” He gave her a playful leer and settled her on his shaft. His cock throbbed inside her, stretching the walls of her sheath. He gathered her breasts in his hands and squeezed. “But yes, you may wash up in my suite, and there will be a fresh gown for you to wear. I want Varsh to see you in all your beauty.” His thick cock filled her. She wanted to think of nothing, to do nothing but feel the sensations throbbing through her sheath, but she knew this meeting with another man was unusual in Zand’s culture. It must portend something significant. “Why, my lord?” Releasing her breasts, Zand lifted his hands to cup her face. He drew her head down and rained slow, soft kisses on her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks and finally her lips. “Because you’ve captivated me, and captured my heart. We fit together, body and soul.”
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He lifted his hips, thrusting hard into her depths. “I’m thinking of making you my lady wife.”
“A delicious repast as usual, your majesty.” Varsh leaned back in his chair and patted his belly. He was a short man with curly gray hair and a sparse goatee on the end of a pointed chin. His cold black eyes turned toward Jalil, full of speculation. “A meal on the Sea Nymph is always an occasion. And it was a double pleasure to meet this beautiful lady.” Jalil inclined her head. “The honor is mine, great lord.” Looking up again, she eyed Varsh across a table laden with gleaming china and sparkling crystal. The remnants of a four-course meal lay on their plates. Stewards moved soundlessly around the elegant dining room, removing dishes, setting out yet more crystal, pouring liquor into the fragile goblets. Through open double doors, she could see out onto the wide deck and the moonlit sea beyond. Teymour had two moons and both had risen tonight. The sea was high, waves beating against the hull, yet thanks, she supposed, to First Civilization technology, the Sea Nymph felt as if it floated on glass. “So what do you think, Varsh?” Zand leaned back too and raised his glass to his lips. He gazed at her for a long moment, his eyes gleaming with pleasure. “The people have wanted me to take a wife for some time. Isn’t she a fine choice?” Varsh sat straighter with an alert air and placed his elbows on the table. He pressed his fingertips together. “She’s from off-world, my lord.” Jalil stiffened, surprised at this sudden hint of hostility. Varsh had seemed cordial during the meal. Was he about to oppose Zand’s choice of her as a wife? Not that she wanted to be Zand’s wife. She wanted to get off Teymour. But perhaps the increased freedom of a wife would give her more opportunity to escape. Zand waved a hand. “That’s an advantage. She’s new blood. There’s no one noble I can marry on this planet to whom I’m not related in some distant way.” “True, but you could raise up one of your own subjects to the nobility, my lord. This one is full of dangerous ideas.”
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“Oh, really?” Jalil set her glass down, ready to defend herself, but Zand threw her a warning look. “That’s what fascinates me about her.” He took a sip of his wine, eying both of them over the rim. “I have a hundred women in my seraglio I can fuck, but very few who can hold an intelligent conversation. I find it most refreshing.” “Refreshing?” Jalil almost choked. Refreshing sounded so—so temporary. She could feel the angry blush rising in her cheeks. Then fingers grasped her hand under the table and gave a warning squeeze. She glanced at Zand in time to catch a quick wink. For some reason he didn’t want Varsh to know the depth of his feelings for her. Assuming, of course, that he actually had deep feelings for her. Was he really feeling love, or an infatuation with her differences? For that matter, what the frick was she feeling, to even care whether his emotions were genuine? Varsh frowned, apparently unconvinced. “She comes from a civilization with values that are opposed to ours, my lord. She would almost certainly become an instigator of change.” Jalil ignored a quelling look from Zand. “Why would I want to do that? Who can change what is already perfect?” Varsh shrugged and dismissed her sarcasm with a contemptuous smile. “Exactly.” “Now, Varsh!” Zand raised a hand, but Jalil interrupted their exchange, her voice angry. “I can defend myself, my lord. I don’t need you to speak for me, and you can’t conceive of my values, much less contend for them in a debate.” “A debate.” Zand lifted his straight, black brows. “Not a bad idea. Maybe a free exchange of ideas would help you two get to know each other.” Without warning, he rose to his feet. “I need to speak to the captain anyway and give him my compliments for a flawless voyage and a splendid meal. Why don’t you two take the opportunity while I’m gone to get better acquainted? You might have more in common than you think.”
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Bracing her shoulders, Jalil watched her lover move out onto the deck. The dining room doors swung shut behind him, giving her and Varsh privacy. She turned to face her newest opponent. “Zand is an optimist.” Varsh smiled. “I would agree—but there! We have agreed already.” “I hope not for the last time.” Jalil reminded herself she had to charm this man. He was vital to her plan for getting off this male-ruled planet. She plastered a pleasant smile on her face and leaned forward so her breasts were fully displayed in the low-cut gown she wore. “Indeed.” Varsh pressed his fingertips together again, his gaze thoughtful. “I’ve been put in charge of unlocking the secrets of your ship, you know.” “Have you?” “There is a problem.” Jalil grinned. She knew exactly what his problem was. “Yes?” “I can’t get into the damned control room.” Anger flashed for a moment in the depths of his black eyes. “My computer is programmed to keep it locked until I return.” “Surely there are code words which will open it.” “Perhaps. But why bother? A civilization as advanced as yours could cut your way in if necessary.” Varsh bit down on his lip. “Zand has ordered me to do no further damage to the ship. He said he’d reached some sort of agreement with you about repairing it.” Jalil’s heart leapt. At last—this was real proof that Zand meant to keep his word. She blinked hard to hold back tears, surprised by a sudden rush of emotion. Did Zand truly care about her? But she couldn’t think about that, not now with Varsh sitting across from her, sparing with her, and her chance for freedom at stake. “Can it be repaired?” Varsh shrugged. “It suffered extensive damage in your attempt at a landing. I’m no expert in your technology, but it appears beyond repair. Zand’s been too busy fucking
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you every night to come and see the extent of the damage, but once he realizes how bad it actually is, he’ll command you to give me the code. You might as well do it now.” “Ah.” Inwardly, Jalil bristled at his vulgur language, but perhaps he wanted to make her angry. She watched him from beneath lowered lashes, her guard up. Something about this man put her inner warning system on full alert. “I would love to tell you the code, my lord, but I cannot, not until I see my ship for myself. I’m sure you must understand that the ship is my one hope of leaving this world someday.” Varsh gasped as if in astonishment, although his face stayed cold. “You want to leave, despite the fact Zand is contemplating making you his wife?” “I’ve a life, a life of my own.” The words came out a little harsher than she’d intended, as if she were trying to convince someone. Well, Varsh, of course… “That’s good, that’s good.” He nodded. “Zand would be better off without you here. He always wants to change things, and you’d only make that worse. The ship won’t fly again, though.” Zand wanted to change things? Did that mean he’d actually been listening to her ideas? She wanted to stop and think about that, but Varsh was staring at her with glittering eyes. Something speculative in his gaze made her decide to she had to take a risk. “Even if Gypsy won’t fly, I can still use the ship to get off this world.” “How?” “I can use the subspace radio to contact the Federation. They might send a ship for me, especially if I tell them about the First Civilization technology here on Teymour. That would certainly make mounting a rescue effort worthwhile. You may not realize it, but the technology you take for granted would be very valuable to the Federation.” Varsh’s lips twitched upward. “Ah, a chance for profit. I know a number of liege lords who would be interested in sharing such wealth. Still, in order to deal with your Federation, we would have to reveal the location of this world to the rest of the galaxy.” “Not necessarily.” Jalil waved a hand, dismissing the problem. “There are corrupt officials in the government. I’m sure they’d agree to keep Teymour a secret in return for exclusive access to your First Civilization technology.”
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“I see. Unscrupulous officials are everywhere. I should have guessed as much.” Varsh pressed his fingertips together and fell into deep thought while Jalil held her breath. It was crazy to think he would agree to such a thing. In another moment Zand would return, and Varsh would denounce her as a dangerous traitor. Yet, something in his eyes had given her hope. Varsh glanced around the cabin and dropped his voice. “The political situation on Teymour is complex. Some of us think contact with the rest of the galaxy is a good idea. Zand does not agree. Do you understand?” “You are going against his wishes.” Varsh glared at her. “I would be taking an enormous risk, and if you say anything about this conversation, I’ll deny it. Zand won’t take the word of a sex slave over mine.” “And what kind of deal are you offering me, exactly? If I give you the code, will I be allowed to contact the Federation?” “Yes, and summon them here—provided you can get them to agree first to keep the location of Teymour a secret.” Jalil stared down at her plate, afraid of what her face might reveal. She felt a strange mixture of hope—and fear. She wanted to get off this world, didn’t she? “Why are you doing this?” “Katarsh should be mine. I’ve reached an understanding with Liege Lord Lattan, who rules the province to the south. All we need are the funds to carry out our plans. With money from your Federation for First Civilization technology, he can buy weapons and train an army to overthrow the Lord Imperator. When he rules Teymour, Katarsh will be mine.” “I see.” Jalil licked her lips, trying to ignore the twisting in her gut. Varsh was offering her a chance to go back to the life she wanted. What if she never got another chance to leave Teymour? Her agreement with Zand depended on the vagaries of his favor. This one would be founded on greed, a much more reliable emotion. How could she refuse? Yet the thought of betraying Zand left her feeling sick deep inside. Besides,
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what evidence did she have that she could trust Varsh? He seemed willing enough to double-cross his master. Frowning, she twisted her hands in her lap. “I’ll give you the codes, but only after you take me to the ship. I must be there when the command center is opened.” Once she’d contacted the Federation and summoned help, she could warn Zand of Varsh’s betrayal. He might not believe her even then, but at least she’d give him a fighting chance to thwart Varsh’s foul plot. Varsh glowered. “That’s impossible. Zand will never let you leave the seraglio in the company of another man.” She lifted her chin. “You’re a clever man. I’m sure you’ll find a way to convince him.”
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Chapter Six
“How did you manage to charm Varsh while I was gone?” Zand raised a questioning eyebrow at her. Jalil shrugged. “I convinced him I’m no danger to your world, since I’m nothing but a harmless female.” Zand’s broad shoulders shook with his amused laughter. “You? A harmless female? I think not, my sweet. Still, he seemed quite taken with you by the time I got back.” The ship had docked shortly after Zand had returned to the dining room. They’d bid Varsh good night and left for her private rooms in the seraglio. Now they sat on the patio, lingering over drinks and watching the waves sweep up the beach as the tide came in. Jalil nodded. “I have my ways. How long has Varsh managed your estate?” Zand fiddled with his drink. “For almost six years. My father appointed him.” A troubled frown crinkled his brow. “Actually, he’s my half-brother, the son of one of my father’s sex slaves. It meant a great deal to my father to give him such a position of authority.” Jalil noticed the past tense. “Meant?” “My father died six months ago.”
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“Oh! I’m so sorry.” Jalil reached across the table to touch his hand. It was odd to think of Zand as a son, grieving the loss of his father, yet she could see undeniable sorrow in those dark eyes. “He died unexpectedly of a massive heart attack, and his death thrust the burden of finishing his lifework upon me.” Zand nodded toward the far side of the bay, where the city towers glistened with light. He grasped the hand Jalil had offered and covered it with his own. “It’s going to surprise you to hear this, but my father was considered a great reformer on this world. I suppose you would find the changes he made here quite tame, but they are important, nonetheless. That’s why your arrival here has seemed like a gift from the gods.” He lifted the hand he held and turned it over, planting a soft kiss on her palm. “You share the vision for change. I need a life partner like you by my side.” Jalil sat up straighter, surprised by the pang of regret his words brought. Such a thing could never be. She forced a smile. “I would try to bring about more change than you want, I think.” “True, we have strong differences, yet all my life I watched my father work with tireless zeal to make a better world for the common people and to establish certain rights for slaves. That’s why it meant a great deal to him to give Varsh an opportunity to hold a post of authority. It puts me in an awkward position, though. Varsh resents the fact I’m my father’s heir. Varsh may be older, but I’m the legitimate son. And he has shown a cruel streak. I’d like to get rid of him.” A chill ran down Jalil’s spine. She had aligned herself with Zand’s enemy. What was she doing plotting behind his back? In his way, Zand had been fair with her. On his world, she was a prize for anyone’s taking. Yet he’d gotten her consent before possessing her sexually, and he’d treated her with kindness since. Had she been as fair to him? She tapped the fingers of her free hand nervously on the table. “If you don’t trust him, why haven’t you dismissed him from your service?” “I rule this province by hereditary right, my sweet, but even I cannot move too fast or upset too many of the old ways. Varsh has a gift for ferreting out secrets. He’s used those secrets to ingratiate himself with many of the older nobles of Teymour. Meanwhile,
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I’m a new and unproven ruler in their eyes.” Zand pressed his lips together in a determined line. “In time I’ll rid myself of him, but for the moment he has a certain power base I can’t ignore. But enough of this depressing topic. You’ve been strangely quiet about the prospect of becoming my wife.” Jalil met his gaze. His dark eyes were luminous with reflected starlight. Was it love shining in those depths? Could a despot feel love? Or would he tire of her once her uniqueness wore off? And what did she feel for him? He leaned toward her, his spicy scent reaching her on the sea breeze. Desire stirred to life in her core—a dangerous desire. She felt too much for this man already. She had to get away before he snared her emotions as well as her body. If she stayed on this world, he would be the ruler and she would be his slave, even as his wife. Could she live in such circumstances? She took a sip of her drink while she weighed her words. “I’m not sure what marriage entails on Teymour. Does a wife have any more status than a sex slave?” “Status?” Zand’s brows went up, as they often did in their conversations. “Are you still struggling with the role of women in our society? We believe women are happier submitting to the will of a man.” “In all things?” Her lip curled. She could hardly keep the disgust from her voice. “Not in all things, no. Women are far better at raising children and maintaining family harmony, for instance. And they are also far better healers than men. The Healing Center is run by women. Did you know that?” “No.” She lifted her own brows. “I know I’m far better at piloting a spaceship than many men, though.” “We allow our women more freedom than you suppose, Jalil, but it doesn’t extend that far. In the end, a woman craves a man in her life.” He leaned toward her. “Even you. You are mine, mine to protect and guide during the day and to conquer at night.” “Ha! I don’t see it that way.” Pretending anger, Jalil looked away before he could see the confusion on her face. His words had conjured an image in her mind of him looming
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over her every night in bed, his cock erect and ready to penetrate her. Her nipples tightened. Zand leaned his head to one side. A challenging smile appeared on his lips. “I know you don’t agree, but you can’t pretend you understand submission yet either. You’ve never totally submitted to anyone of your own free will.” “What if I did? I doubt it would make a difference.” “And yet you won’t know without trying it.” She half turned in her seat to face the sea. The wind lifted her short curls but couldn’t cool the sudden heat that burned her cheeks. His constant challenges stirred something deep in her soul. Somehow he exposed inner cravings she’d always suppressed. So far, she’d turned his half teasing suggestions of a night of total submission down, but she was beginning to feel like a coward, running from the truth. It might be worth enduring one night of submission to prove him wrong. A steady throbbing began between her legs, but she ignored it. “Okay. I’m game. I’ll submit to you for one night, if afterward you promise that you’ll give what I have to say about a woman’s role on your world the serious thought it deserves.” He turned over her hand and stroked the palm with warm fingers. “That seems like a fair trade to me. Let’s do it tonight.” “Tonight?” Her throat went tight. “Why not? I’m eager to teach you more about submission, and you won’t have to spend the next few days worrying about what I plan to do to your luscious body. You submit to my will in everything I ask from now until dawn. When I’m satiated, we’ll discuss submission again. Agreed?” Jalil nodded, ignoring the sudden hammering of her heart. A part of her yammered that she was crazy, but another part wanted to understand this man better. “Agreed.” “Good.” He leaned back in his chair and pointed a commanding finger at her. “Stand to your feet.” Jalil set her drink down, fighting to hide the slight tremble in her hands. Swallowing the protest that came automatically to her lips, she rose and faced him.
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Zand rose, too, and headed into the bedroom, beckoning her to follow. Inside, Sepella had already dimmed the lights and lit candles on the table beside the bed. She’d drawn back the scarlet coverlet to reveal creamy satin sheets. Incense burned in a brazier near the bathroom door, filling the room with a heavy, sweet scent. Zand strode past the waiting bed with the briefest of glances. Stopping in front of the wall hanging, he pulled aside the curtain to reveal the rack where Jalil had hung restrained once before. The blood roared in Jalil’s head. Her skin went hot and then cold, chill bumps rising everywhere. Her stomach tightened into a hard knot. She opened her mouth, ready to voice a protest, but Zand turned to her and set his balled fists on his lean hips. “You agreed to submit to me, remember? I want you to strip off your gown and step into the rack so I can cuff you. I want you naked, spread-eagled and at my mercy, the way you were the night I first examined you.” Frick! What had gotten into her? She’d been crazy to make such a bargain. All this sex with Zand must be making her brain go soft. But it was more than sex. She craved him, craved the way he made her feel alive. Like she felt at this moment. Her heart thundered against her ribs and the blood roared in her veins. It was the element of danger, she told herself, nothing more. Space pilots were junkies who lived on the edge, and submission was like some new, intoxicating drug. At least Zand wouldn’t hurt her. She sucked in a breath. “As you wish, my lord.” Lowering her gaze to the floor in an imitation of the demure behavior she’d seen in other women, she reached behind her back and pulled at the long zipper that ran from under her shoulder blades to the base of her spine. The cloth around her body loosened. She lifted her head and beamed a seductive smile his way while swaying her hips in a slow, sexy arc. With nothing to hold it, the gown slid down her body and pooled around her feet. As he had commanded, she was naked underneath. Determined to remain obedient for one night, she held her head high and threw back her shoulders so that her breasts thrust outward. Her nipples were already hardening into tight little nubs. Zand sucked in an audible breath while she stepped between the two tall
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metal poles of the rack. Fighting down a stab of fear, she turned to face her master and placed her ankles next to each cuff. The stance forced her to open her legs wide, exposing her pussy to Zand’s already heated gaze. Without a word, he bent over and fastened the cuffs at her feet. “Your hands.” His voice had gone gruff with passion. Jalil lifted her arms above her head straining to get her wrists into the cuffs. Another damn inch and she’d have to stand on tip-toe. As it was, her breasts were lifted high. The round globes swayed provocatively, her taut pink nipples brushing his chest. Moving with quick grace, Zand snapped the cuffs closed. He stepped back to examine her. His searing gaze wandered from her face to her erect nipples to the curve of her waist and lower, to the golden hair marking the entrance to her body. “Tonight you are at my mercy.” She lifted her chin and attempted a smile. “I’ve been in this position before. What do you intend to teach me that I don’t already know?” “There’s much you don’t know.” His hands fell to the belt at his waist, undoing it. It dropped to the marble floor and he yanked his tunic over his head. His bare shoulders gleamed golden in the candlelight. He untied the strap that restrained his swelling cock and let it, too, fall to the floor. His hard length jutted out toward her. Zand moved over to the drawer of a nearby bureau and pulled out the familiar blindfold. He stepped back over to her and drew a finger slowly along her jaw line. “There is a great deal you’ve yet to learn, my sweet.” His touch sent jolts of pleasure shooting down her nerves. Jalil squirmed and turned her face into his fingertips, wanting his stroking to continue. She remembered all too well the feeling of helplessness she’d felt the last time she’d stood bound and blindfolded before him. It had been agony to stand in the darkness awaiting his touch. This time, though, she knew the pleasure his lovemaking could bring. A frisson of mingled fear and excitement ran through her. Her wrists twitched against the cuffs that held them secure. She wanted to protest her bondage, but her pride wouldn’t let her. She’d give anything to be able to touch him in the same intimate way
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that he was touching her at this moment. His strong, naked body, inches away from her own, taunted her. She longed to bury her fingers in his midnight braids, to stroke the contours of his broad shoulders and muscled chest, to slide her hands over his flat abdomen to where his cock jutted out, proud and erect. He waved the blindfold in one hand and she knew she was about to be denied even the sight of his masculine beauty. He walked behind her with slow deliberation. She froze into a statue while he fastened the thick cloth over her eyes. Blinking into the blackness, she shivered. Her other senses sprang to life. Her skin prickled with the breeze Zand created when he passed near her, and her ears tracked his movements around the room. She heard the faint sliding sound of another drawer opening and closing. An instant later, he was back at her side. “Prepare to be whipped.” His voice was taut with challenge. Whipped! Like a slave? Panicked, Jalil pulled at the cuffs that bound her hands and feet, but they refused to yield. Her heart sank. Fool! How had she let him talk her into this? She must have banged her head in the crash and scrambled her brain cells. Damn Zand and his bedroom eyes. Here she was, bound to these damned poles and utterly helpless. Yet even as she berated herself, even as she listened for the sound of the whip, a part of her trembled with excitement. She knew why she’d agreed. Frick, it made her hot deep inside, hot and wet. Everything about this man made her melt. His kisses left her breathless, his skilled, arousing touch on all her intimate, private places, the way his cock filled her, his daring, no-holds-barred lovemaking. She’d never known anything like it, never known anyone like him. She loved the way he held her in his steel arms, the way his braids of black hair brushed over her naked skin, the masterful look in his lustrous eyes when he drank her in, his face filled with desire—desire for her. Of course it was lust, pure lust. She didn’t love him. Or did she?
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She held her breath, her muscles tightening, braced for the first blow. Would she scream? Would she beg for mercy? Whatever tortures he inflicted on her, she deserved them for being idiot enough to agree to this mad bargain. Something struck across her abdomen. She gasped, sucking in her stomach, but it was already gone. Three strands of some silky, corded material. The blow was hard enough to make her skin tingle, a prickly burst of sensation just on the edge of pain. Her stomach burned where the cords had fallen. She heard him move. Her muscles tensed again. The air whistled and his second blow struck her buttocks, harder this time. She bit back a whimper and tightened her ass, feeling the skin flame. He moved again. She began to breathe in quick little pants, whether born of fear or desire she could not tell. The third blow fell across the upper swell of her breasts. The edge of the cords grazed the sensitive tips of her incredibly taut nipples. The first small cry escaped her lips. It wasn’t pain so much that made her cry out— this blow had been gentler—but pure need. Somehow she knew it wouldn’t be her last cry. A low chuckle came from somewhere to her right. “You should see yourself, my sweet. Wherever I’ve hit you, your skin glows a fetching rosy red. I’m going to make you glow all over.” Jalil gulped. The lash struck her right thigh. She jerked and it struck her left. Now her skin was growing warm in places where he hadn’t struck yet. Was it possible to blush over your whole body? Her flesh tingled. She blinked and stared into the blackness, her body rigid with tension and on fire with desire. Every inch of her anticipated the next blow, the sharp sting of the lash, the intoxicating rush of pleasure mixed with pain. He struck against her loins. Her pussy clenched tight from her womb down to her slit. She cried out, shocked by the unexpected rush of sensations. Her body shuddered under a tidal wave of lust as if in the grip of an orgasm. When it ended at last, she slumped for a moment in her bonds.
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“How are you enjoying submission so far?” While she’d shuddered helplessly in her bonds, he’d moved to stand in front of her. His breath caressed her face. She leaned forward as far as her cuffs would allow, wanting his touch, wanting to press the tips of her aching breasts against his hard chest. Standing just beyond her reach, he laughed and cupped her face with his hands. His lips claimed hers in a wet, demanding kiss before he thrust his tongue into her mouth for a thorough exploration. When he withdrew, she gasped for breath again. Her mouth felt swollen, her nipples throbbed and her pussy ached with an emptiness that demanded to be filled. “You are starting to glow.” He sounded pleased. She heard him walking around the room some more. More drawers opened and shut. Her throat went dry. Some new torture was about to begin, and she had no idea what. She could only stare into the blackness. He stood in front of her and jingled something metal in his hand. He lifted her right breast in his big hand. “Ready?” She wanted to nod assent, wanted to beg him to do anything to assuage the burning need that blazed between her loins, but pride forced her to remain silent. Something cold and hard clamped over her nipple. The pressure sent a sharp stab of pain and pleasure straight down into her core. Her hips rocked forward against her will, searching for his body. A clamp of some sort held her nipple in a relentless grip. She drew in a shaky breath and the pain settled into a steady throbbing. “I don’t want this sweet breast to feel neglected while I attend to the other.” Zand’s usually mellow baritone had turned low and husky with his own desire. His mouth settled over her left nipple. His lips sucked her and his tongue lapped the stiff nub of needy flesh. She began to writhe in her bonds, her hips arching upward again. She could not stop the deep moan of desire that his touch tore from her throat. The room grew silent except for the sound of her whimpers and the lapping of his tongue over her flesh. When she thought she could bear no more, he switched the clamp to the throbbing nipple of her left breast and turned his attention to her sore right nipple, bathing it in the wet heat of his mouth.
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Jalil struggled to press her thighs together, desperate for release. Bound to the rack with her legs spread wide apart, she began to experience true erotic torture. She knew the slightest additional pressure on her clit would make her explode into an ecstasy of orgasm, yet she was powerless to bring her legs together and achieve the release she so desperately needed. She had no choice but to wait for him to have mercy on her and use his hands or his cock to give her the pleasure she craved. As if sensing her anguished desire, Zand let go of her breast. His fingers tickled downward over her rib cage, unto her stomach. She strained hard against her bonds, bruising the flesh of her wrists and ankles, willing his hand to drop another few inches, to dip into her slit. Zand’s breath tickled her ear, close and intimate. “You must tell me exactly what you want.” Jalil licked her lips, pride and shame both forgotten in the unbridled lust that roared through her veins. She knew what he wanted to hear and she was willing to say it. Anything to get him to bury his cock inside her and end this sensual torment. “I want you to untie me and throw me on the bed and fuck me until I scream.” Zand kissed her, a soft brush of his lips against hers. “Ah, Jalil, you please me like no other woman ever has. Whatever you wish, I’ll give you.” He bent, quickly unlocking the cuffs at her ankles, and rising to undo her wrists. As the last bond fell away, Jalil staggered a little, unsteady on her feet. Zand pulled off her blindfold and lifted her as if she were nothing but a feather in his arms. Smiling in triumph, he carried her to the bed. “This is the part where I fuck you until you scream.” He laid her on her back, gave her a wicked grin and rolled her over onto her stomach in one quick movement. Jalil moaned in anticipation when the mattress bent beneath his weight. He forced her legs open and knelt between her thighs. His hands went under her hips, lifting her butt toward him. Jalil drew in a breath and turned her head for a glimpse of his face, which had gone taut with desire. The head of his cock probed her opening and her heart raced with
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anticipation. Time seemed to stand still while his eyes drank her up. She could see the same hunger in him, a hunger to join their lives together, both body and soul, to experience true intimacy. She’d crashed her ship on this world expecting to die, and somehow she’d found an incredible new life. Zand thrust hard into her, the angle of rear entry allowing him to drive deep. She cried out and lifted her hips up to meet his thrust. His rigid cock battered at the walls of her pussy, setting her depths on fire. Her inner muscles tightened, trying to hold on to him, to savor the sensations that filled her, but Zand was relentless, thrusting in and out. Jalil’s whimpers turned to groans. The pressure inside her mounted with each thrust. Every muscle of her body quivered with the sensual tension, teetering on the edge of explosion. She pressed her hips back against his cock, forcing him deeper inside her, and her groan changed to a scream of pure bliss. Like a geyser erupting from her depths, the unbearable pressure exploded without warning. Rational thought shattered. Her body shook and heaved with wave after wave of rapture. Somewhere, dimly, she felt Zand thrust into her one more time. He stiffened and joined her cry with his own. At last, the rhythmic pulsing of her pussy died down. She collapsed on the bed, every cell of her body afire with the aftermath of the convulsions that had shaken her. Never had she known joy like this. Zand sighed with pleasure and let go of her hips. She rolled over and smiled up at her lover. He was magnificent. How could she have considered betraying him with Varsh? Something real was slowly growing between them. Her heart wanted to believe that in time he would keep his word and allow her access to her ship again. She had to trust in the strength of their newborn love. “Zand—” She opened her lips to warn him of Varsh’s plotting against him. The bedroom door swung open and hit the wall with a crash. “My lord!” Varsh charged into the room, his face livid with anger. He pointed a finger at Jalil. “I’ve come to warn you. This woman schemes to betray you.” “What nonsense is this?” Zand rose from the bed, his cock still fully erect, his naked body glistening with sweat. “You dare to interrupt our lovemaking?”
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Varsh bowed his head. “My lord, forgive me. I felt it was urgent to warn you of her villainy.” “My villainy? You asshole!” Jalil sat up in the bed, drawing the coverlet over her nakedness. “You’re the backstabbing, conniving son of a bitch.” “My lord!” Varsh turned to face Zand, his cold eyes holding a challenge. “I trust you’ll take the word of a loyal advisor over the ravings of a slave. This evening after our dinner aboard the Sea Nymph this woman offered to let me experience the pleasure of her body if I would allow her to enter her ship and call rescuers from her civilization to come and snatch her from your seraglio. She told me she loathes your touch.” “He’s lying!” Jalil clasped her hands together and gave Zand a pleading look. To her horror, despair twisted his face into a momentarily unrecognizable mask. “Surely you don’t believe him. If I’d made such an offer, why didn’t he speak of it earlier tonight when you returned to the dining room?” The despair in Zand’s eyes eased for a moment. “A good point, Varsh. What say you?” Varsh bowed low. “My lord, I could see you were infatuated with her. I pretended to go along with her so I could uncover more proof before I accused her, and so I have.” He pointed at the door. “Oh, no!” Jalil jammed a fist into her mouth in horror. Her two burly guards dragged Sepella into the room. The servant cringed in their grip, her eyes wide with fear. “This woman has been your loyal servant her whole life, my lord. I’d hardly begun to question her before she spewed out the truth. She was unable to bear the shame any longer. She told me Jalil spoke to her of her hatred for you and of her plan to seduce me. She said Jalil planned to convince me to take her to her ship so she could call her people, and get her vengeance. She also promised to take Sepella back to the Federation with her.” “Is this so?” Zand towered over the servant, his visage fierce. “Yes.” Sepella cowered to the ground, terrified. “Yes, great lord.”
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“No!” Jalil found herself babbling. “You must not believe her. Varsh has scared her into making a false confession with his threats.” “Silence!” Zand roared at her. “I trusted you. I gave you my heart. Now two loyal servants speak against you. I need some evidence that you are innocent.” Varsh smirked. “She could prove her innocence easily enough, my lord. If she truly loves you and wants only to become your wife, ask her to reveal the secret code that will open the door into the control room of her ship.” Zand lifted an eyebrow. “You still haven’t gained access?” “No, my lord. I need the word. If my accusations are false, she should delight in giving it to you and exposing me for the liar I am.” Varsh folded his arms across his chest. Jalil longed to take her nails and rip a bloody path down his smug face, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Zand stared at her, waiting to hear the code word from her lips, but she only swallowed. Frick! If she gave it to him, Varsh would have it and she’d never see the Federation again. Had the damned advisor outsmarted her so easily? A bleak expression settled over Zand’s features. His shoulders slumped. “I see. You do not speak.” “My lord, listen—” He raised a hand. “I want only to hear the code word, Jalil.” She bent her head, biting her lip. What could she say? Breathing hard, Zand turned to Varsh. “It seems your accusations are true. What do you suggest I do with her?” “Turn her over to me, my lord.” Varsh glared at Jalil with triumph in his eyes. “With a little firm persuasion, I can get the code to open her ship’s control center.” Zand clenched his hands into fists. “How?” Avoiding Jalil’s desperate attempt to catch his eye, he paced over to the rack. “I won’t have her tortured.” Varsh inclined his head. “Of course not, my lord. There are other techniques we can use. Drugs will soon make her speak the truth.”
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Zand whirled around. He clamped a hand on Varsh’s forearm, his fingers tightening until the other man winced. “Will they harm her?” “Nothing permanent, my lord.” He turned back to the rack. “Good. When you are done with her, I’ll teach her some more about submission.” Turning away from them, he reached out to touch one of the empty cuffs. The muscles on his bare back went tense and rigid. Varsh bowed low. “As you wish. Once I have the code, we’ll be able to learn about her civilization in case anyone else ever stumbles upon us. Once we’ve gathered all the data in the computer, I’ll destroy her ship.” For one heartbeat, Zand turned his face toward Jalil, his handsome features twisted with unspoken pain. She stretched out her hands to him, her lips parting to begin a plea, but he shook his head and turned on his heel. Her heart aching, she watched him stalk from the room.
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Chapter Seven
“So, once again we have the opportunity for a private little chat, but our positions have changed.” Varsh touched a pale blue handkerchief to the tip of his nose and sniffed delicately. Eyeing their surroundings with obvious distaste, he circled around Jalil, who sat in a chair, her arms bound to the arm rests with leather straps. They were alone together in a small, windowless room on a lower level of Zand’s palace. In addition to the chair where Jail sat lashed down by restraints, the room held a dirty toilet, a small washbasin and the narrow bunk where she had spent a sleepless night. The stale air smelled of unwashed bodies. It pressed in on her, and she fought the panic of claustrophobia. She’d been a fool to listen to Varsh’s proposal, and that terrible lapse of judgment had cost her Zand’s trust and love. Through the long night, her aching heart had measured the depth of that loss. She hadn’t believed she could ever care for someone like Zand, but she’d been wrong. She did care, and she should have summoned up the trust and courage to give him the code word. But it was too late, now. He’d never trust her again. And if she spoke the word, Varsh would claim the credit for getting it from her. She was determined to deny him that final victory. “Nothing to say? You’ll be talking soon enough.” 78
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Jalil summoned up the dregs of her courage and shot him a haughty look. “I was a prisoner when we met, and I’m a prisoner still. What the frick, I’ve traded one asshole male for another one. Of course, I have to admit, you are the bigger a-hole.” Varsh stopped circling. His stare of cold contempt sent icy fear rushing through her veins. “Don’t try to impress me with your bravado. It will do you no good here. I’m not a man who is seduced by women, and you’re totally in my power.” “Yeah? Well, you must want something from me or you wouldn’t be here.” Jalil tested her bounds for the hundredth time and found them as unyielding as ever. The previous evening her hulking guards had dragged her down to this cell, egged on in their rough treatment by Varsh, who had relished interrupting her lovemaking with Zand. She had bruises on her upper arms where the guards had grabbed her. She’d probably gotten more bruises today, too. They’d yanked her from bed and thrown her into this chair moments before Varsh arrived. Worse of all, she’d been hauled naked from Zand’s embrace, and no one had offered her as much as a stitch to cover her nudity. She had to face Varsh in her bare skin with nothing but her courage to give her some semblance of dignity. She let her disgust show on her face. “We both know why you’re here, Varsh. Do you get your jollies torturing women?” Varsh folded his arms across his chest and scowled down at her. Jalil scowled back. “You’re a proud woman, Jalil. I hope you’re not putting your trust in Zand’s touching little request that I refrain from torturing you.” A knot of fear formed in Jalil’s stomach. “What do you mean?” Varsh let out a harsh bark of laughter. “Like any pampered ruler, Zand prefers not to be bothered with the tiresome details of how I accomplish my tasks. Whatever goes on in this room, he’ll never ask about it. He doesn’t want to know the unsavory truth.” Jalil fought to keep her breathing steady. “He’ll know when I tell him. He ordered you to bring me back to him when you’re done.” “Ah, yes.” Varsh tapped his forefinger against his lips as if pondering the problem. He shrugged and smiled. “Well, accidents happen.”
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The knot in Jalil’s stomach turned to an icy ball of terror. She squirmed against her bonds, then stopped immediately when her breasts began to bounce. She wasn’t going to favor Varsh with any erotic displays. She struggled to stay calm. At least he wasn’t carrying any obvious implements of torture. “What do you want from me?” “What do I want from you?” Varsh scratched his chin. “I want those code words so I can get into the control center of your ship.” Jalil forced a laugh. “Frick you! I’m not going to give them to you. What the hell! I thought we had a deal. Why did you double-cross me?” Varsh stepped closer to the chair, his tall form towering over her. “I changed my mind. I’ve decided it would be wiser to convince Zand you’re a traitor. This way, I torture the code out of you, and you have a fatal accident. I’ll tell Zand you died without talking, and Zand won’t know I have a way into the ship until it’s too late. I’ll be able to contact your Federation and arrange a rebellion at my leisure.” “I hate to disappoint you, bad boy, but I’m not planning to talk.” Varsh gave her a nasty smile. “Oh, you’ll talk. I’m going to use your ship’s computer to communicate with your so-called Federation before the day is over.” “Why bother? No one in the Federation will come here on your say-so.” “They will when they hear I have First Civilization technology to sell them. Thank you for pointing out to me how valuable that is, by the way. After I stash away a fortune for myself, I’ll offer some of the profits to Lattan, the liege lord of Metopia, as I had previously planned. The money will finance his rebellion against the Lord Imperator and after the victory, I’ll become liege lord of Katarsh in Zand’s place—as I should have been all along.” “You don’t deserve Katarsh.” Varsh straightened, his chest swelling with pride. “I’m his brother, and the first born!” Jalil curled her lip. “Yes, Zand told me, but you’re the spawn of some sex slave, not the legitimate heir.”
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“Indeed.” His face darkened with anger. “I don’t deny it. Zand’s mother was liege wife, and mine was a mere slave in the seraglio. If it weren’t for that twist of fate, I would be ruler of this realm instead of him. It should be mine.” Jalil felt her anger rising. “So you dare to claim Zand hasn’t treated you fairly. I don’t believe it. He’s kept you on as manager of his estates.” Contempt twisted Varsh’s narrow face. “Pah! He only obeys his father’s dying wishes, like any dutiful son. And if nothing else, he recognizes my superior abilities and seeks to appease me, but I’m not appeased. I’m nothing but a servant groveling at his whim, when I should be master of all I see.” He placed both his hands on the armrests of her chair and bent over her, gloating. “I was uncertain how to overthrow him until the fates sent you crashing onto our estate. You are the key I’ve long sought to unlock my prison door.” Jalil shrank back in disgust. Varsh’s mouth curved down. He released his grip on the armrests and straightened. “You’d do better to hide your obvious distain for me, my dear.” Jalil shook her head, fighting off her mounting fear. “That’s where I made my mistake, by pretending to go along with you, even for a moment. I should have denounced you to my lord at once.” “But you didn’t. You were toying with the idea of betraying him. You’re guilty. That’s how Zand will see it.” “Zand will realize the truth when he stops to think about it.” She uttered the brave words for effect, but in reality she had little hope that Zand would change his mind and decide to believe her, especially when Varsh’s accusation held some truth. No, she was facing torture—real torture. And she had no idea how long she could hold up under true pain. What if Varsh did get the code words from her? Would the Federation compromise its principles and deal with him in return for the valuable First Civilization technology? What if Lattan did overthrow the Lord Imperator and Varsh won Zand’s estate as a reward? It didn’t take a genius to guess the outcome. Zand’s people would be much
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worse off under Varsh’s rule, and she suspected the same would be true of the new lord of Teymour. Her heart grew heavy with despair. Even if she could somehow break free from her bonds and reach Zand with a warning, he wouldn’t listen. He’d given her a chance to speak last night, and she’d refused to open her mouth. That had been moments after they’d lain with their bodies tangled together in the sheets of the bed where they’d made passionate love. His heart had been open and she’d slammed the door between them. Why should he listen in the cold light of a new day? Hope flickered out like a dying light. Lifting her head in defiance took all her strength. “I’m not going to tell you anything.” “We’ll see.” A bone-chilling smile twitched on Varsh’s lips. Turning from her, he opened the door and left the room. She heard him speaking to the guards out in the corridor. When he returned a moment later, he carried a heavy briefcase. “You’ll find the contents of this interesting.” He set it down on the bed, unsnapped the locks and opened it. Twisting her head so she could see, Jalil spied several leather shelves, each holding shiny implements strapped in place. Her breath hitched. Those had to be instruments of torture. Varsh ran his long fingers over the tools inside, his lips moving in soft whispers as if he were talking to each torture device, promising it a moment of use. After a lengthy hesitation, he pulled out something long and thin. Turning his back on the case, he walked over to the chair and stood facing Jalil. Sweat beaded his forehead. He extended his hand so she could see what he’d chosen. It looked almost like a gun, a gun with a long, plastic barrel and a plate of bright metal on the end. Varsh swiped his free hand across his brow. He pushed a button embedded in the barrel, and Jalil heard a low hum. “This is an electric prod. The normal setting produces a small jolt that quickly passes, but I have amped it up several notches. It will make your muscles clench and lock in agony. The pain is so severe that I’ve made strong men scream for mercy. Do you want to see for yourself? If not, give me the code.”
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“No.” Jalil spat out the single word of denial. Varsh held the evil-looking prod less than a foot away from her. Her skin crawled, and she was afraid her voice would fail her if she attempted to say more. “Perhaps you don’t believe I’ll do this.” His mouth twisted in a mockery of a smile. “If you cling to that hope, you are wrong. I hesitate because I’m wondering whether I should poke it into your luscious breast or aim for that charming bellybutton of yours. Wherever I touch, it will leave a small burn.” Jalil’s throat went dry. She couldn’t speak. Her stomach lurched and bile threatened to fill her mouth. The room seemed to close in on her, the air hot and close. A sheen of sweat dampened her skin. She wondered if the sweat would make the electric jolt worse. Varsh waved the gun in front of her with the careless confidence of a man who could do whatever he pleased. “It would be a pity to mar those flawless breasts unless I’m forced to. I’ll start with your stomach instead.” Jalil pulled hard against her bonds, but they refused to yield, so tightly were her arms strapped to the chair. She tried to lunge forward, hoping to move the chair itself, but it was made of heavy wood and didn’t budge. The silver barrel filled her terrified gaze. The tip touched her skin an inch below her navel. A raw, terrible pain shot through her. Jalil screamed and arched her back, straining against the ropes. Every muscle in her body convulsed into knots. For an instant she feared her bones would break. Her scream stretched on and on until her throat grew raw. At last, her muscles unclenched. Her head dropped to her chest, and she smelled the stink of her own burned flesh. “You should be afraid of what I can do to you, Jalil. This was a small sample, a momentary touch.” Jalil forced her head up. Varsh stood with folded arms, smiling at her. “Imagine the rod touching the palms of your hands or the soles of your feet.” His smile broadened. “And when you’ve screamed until you’re hoarse, I’ll have the guards come in and spread
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your legs, and I’ll press my probe deep into the moist, warm flesh between them. That pain will be worse than anything you can possibly imagine.” “You goddamned bastard!” The words were a pitiful shield against the weapon in Varsh’s hand. His infuriating smile returned. “Tsk, tsk, slave. You’re not willing to give me the code words yet? Very well.” To her horror, Varsh’s free hand moved between his legs and stroked the tight fabric of his pants Frick! He was playing with himself, getting sexual pleasure from tormenting her. Despair gripped her in an icy vise. Still stroking his cock under his pants, Varsh moved the prod toward her breast. Terrified, she shrank back against the unyielding wood of the chair. At the last moment, the prod veered to poke at her upper arm. She shrieked, her back arching again, her muscles cording. Her arm burned with pain. Hot tears trickled from the corners of her eyes. “Will you talk, fool?” Varsh was breathing hard. His hand squeezed the bulge between his thighs. Jalil sucked in an unsteady breath. She couldn’t betray Zand to this monster. Besides, she wouldn’t gain anything by talking. Varsh had already admitted he planned to torture and kill her. He couldn’t risk her seeing Zand again, however remote the chance the liege lord would believe her. Trembling with fear, she shook her head. Varsh raised his prod. “Too bad. You are a lovely thing. You won’t look half so fetching with your nipples seared.” “I agree.” The deep bass rumble took them both by surprise. Shocked, Jalil jerked her head up. Zand stood in the doorway. Where had he come from? She and Varsh had been absorbed in their private drama. Neither one had heard him approach. The liege lord stepped into the room. Reaching out, he grabbed the prod from Varsh. His gaze swept over to the bed and the open case. He threw back his shoulders, his stance commanding. “I see you came prepared to torment my slave in a number of ways.”
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The momentary panic on Varsh’s features had already vanished, replaced by his usual calculating expression. He made a small bow. “My lord, I know you asked me not to torture her, and I intended to obey as always. But after I left you last night, I interrogated the slave Sepella further and learned that Jalil planned to poison you. I felt I had to find out the full truth at once, in case any of the other slaves in the palace have been drawn into her plot.” Jalil twisted on the chair in frustration. “He lies. He’ll say anything about me.” Varsh straightened, looking offended. “I find this task distasteful. I only do it because of my fear for your safety, my lord.” Ignoring him, Zand stared at Jalil’s naked, sweat-covered body. He frowned at the angry red blister burned across her stomach where Varsh had touched her with the prod. Another welt stood out on her arm. Lifting her chin, Jalil met his gaze. Why was he here? Did he want to join in the torture? She couldn’t let him see her fear. Zand turned to his half-brother. “I can see why you might find this task distasteful. Torture can be so brutal. How much longer do you think it might be before she breaks?” Varsh pursed his lips and gazed into the distance. “Hard to say, my lord. I’m prepared to do whatever it takes, though.” “Yes. I see you are.” Zand walked over to the open case and folded his arms across his chest. “Interesting. Whips. Pinchers. Knives. I had no idea you were so well-versed in this area.” Pride flashed across Varsh’s face. He pushed back his shoulders. “I’m entrusted with managing your estate, my lord. It’s my job to be certain those under me are telling me the truth at all times.” Zand’s brows rose. “And you use torture to make sure of my servants’ loyalty?” “On occasion I have in the past, when I’ve suspected an underling of stealing from your father.” “And why was I never told of this…practice?”
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Varsh made a self-deprecating gesture. “It’s my duty to keep order on your estates. I try not to trouble you with the minutiae.” “I see.” Zand turned back to Jalil, who’d been listening to their exchange with a growing spark of hope. Did Zand realize Varsh was a double-dealing liar who hid his true activities behind a smoke-screen of loyalty and obedience? Was he horrified by Varsh’s cool admission of torturing others, or had she mistaken his honorable nature? Was he the cruel despot she’d thought him at first? If so, she was indeed doomed. Zand moved closer, his tall form towering over her. He reached out to touch one of the ropes that bit into her flesh. His brows drew together in a frown. Varsh raised a hand. “I know she makes a pitiful sight, my lord. As a civilized ruler, it’s natural for you to find torture abhorrent. Yet think of what is at stake. Your life, most of all, but our whole civilization, too. If she could contact her Federation, she would bring them here. Their presence would mean the end of all we’ve built upon this planet. They would take us over.” His lips formed a grimace of distaste. “Assimilated. We must make certain such a disaster cannot happen. Once I get the code word, I’ll enter the command center and learn about her civilization. Once I’m done, I’ll destroy the ship.” “I agree. The ship must be destroyed.” Zand whirled around and held out his hand. “But I’ll continue the torture. Give me your prod.”
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Chapter Eight
“My lord!” Varsh’s shoulders fell. He took a step backward, holding up a hand in protest. “This is foolishness! You need not sully your hands with the details of breaking this woman.” Zand’s body went rigid with anger. He clenched his hands into fists. “I’ve seen how you handle her, Varsh. I prefer my way. Rest assured, I’ll get the code from her.” Varsh’s nostrils flared. He pressed his lips together while two spots of angry color appeared on his cheeks. “As you command, my lord.” With a stiff motion, he handed the prod to Zand. “I beg you to reconsider, though. This woman is a hardened liar. As soon as I leave this room, she’ll fill your ears with her fantastical tales. She’ll say anything, offer you anything, to regain her freedom.” Zand gave a sharp bark of harsh laughter. “There’s nothing she can offer me that isn’t already mine to take. Do you doubt my ability to handle my slaves, Varsh?” “Of course not, my lord. I only suggest you let me—” Zand whirled on his underling with a quick gesture of dismissal. “I believe I’ve made myself clear. Go!”
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Varsh’s gaze darted around the room seeking some excuse to stay. His mouth twisted with the bitterness of his subservient position. His face glum, he bent almost double in a slow bow and backed from the room. “Yes, my lord.” Zand crooked a finger beckoning him back for a moment. “And have the guard bring me some healing cream.” Varsh opened his mouth to protest. “But—” “Varsh!” Zand snapped his underling’s name in a tone that brooked no argument. “At once, my lord.” Varsh glowered with hatred behind Zand’s back and pulled the door shut. “So.” Zand returned to Jalil’s side, the prod dangling in one hand. Like Varsh earlier, he towered over her seated form, but strangely she felt no intimidation in his presence. The heat from his body warmed her bare skin, reminding her of all the intimate moments they’d shared. He reached out, indicating the burns on her stomach and arm. “Those must have hurt and yet you refused to talk.” Jalil cleared her throat and hoped her voice wouldn’t shake. “They still hurt, my lord.” “Yes. I can see how painful they must be. They’re bad. Varsh seems to enjoy his work.” Was that distaste she heard in Zand’s voice? With fragile hope stirring in her heart, she studied his face from beneath lowered lashes. His full mouth was set in stern lines and his strong chin jutted out as if prepared for confrontation. Her heart ached. Frick! What was happening to her? She should hate this man for turning her over to the whims of a sadistic torturer. Instead, his closeness was making her insides melt. “He can torture me all he pleases.” She tried to pour conviction into her words. “I’ll never give the code to him.” “I believe you. What about me, though? Will you give it to me?” Jalil hesitated. This was her chance to make amends and give it to Zand as a gesture of good faith, as proof she was innocent of the things Varsh had accused her of. But
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would he believe her now? Unlikely. He’d see it as the surrender of a terrified woman. He’d give the code word to Varsh, and Varsh would secretly call in the Federation. And what would she gain? She’d destroyed their fragile trust. He had other women, women of unquestioned loyalty. He didn’t need her. He’d probably turn his back on her. What would happen to her then? Would she become a mere servant like Sepella? Or worse, would he turn her over to other men? Would they want her as a sex slave because of her blonde hair and blue eyes? Would Zand trade her to another liege lord like some bargaining chip? A sharp knock on the door interrupted her anguished debate. A muscle in Zand’s cheek twitched, but he kept his gaze on her face and waited for her answer. “Enter!” One of the guards strode into the room, holding out a small jar. “The cream, my lord.” “Thank you.” Zand took it in his free hand. The guard saluted and left. Zand held both hands out to Jalil. “Here you see a choice, my sweet.” He lifted the prod in his right hand. “Continued torture.” He lifted the jar. “Or healing. Which shall it be?” Jalil’s heart came into her throat. “I’d give you the code, but I’m afraid you’ll take it and give it to Varsh. I swear to you, he can’t be trusted.” Zand scowled and pursed his lips with obvious displeasure. “You’re a slave and in no position to bargain with me. I’ve asked you for the code.” He raised the prod. “Must I use this on you?” Against her will, tears sprang into her eyes. She bit down hard on her lip. She wasn’t going to cry and beg like some groveling slave, no matter what this liege lord expected. She squared her shoulders and tightened her grip on the armrests, bracing her body for more agony. “I can’t let Varsh have the code. So go ahead, use your prod. Do your worst.” “Ah, Jalil, such spirit! It’s what I love about you.” With a wicked grin, Zand threw the prod to the floor. He unscrewed the cap of the healing cream and dug his finger
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inside. Bending over her, he first lathered cool cream on the burn on her stomach and then treated the one on her arm. Immediately, her skin began to tingle. The pain faded, and Jalil relaxed ever so slightly. She thrust out her chin and blinked the sheen of tears from her eyes. “I don’t understand, my lord. Why are you showing me mercy? I’ve refused to give you the code.” His lips curved upward in a broad smile. “I have my own methods, Jalil.” He set the jar down on the floor beside the chair and strode over to the case on the bed. He stroked his chin with his long fingers while he examined the various instruments. “Yes, this will do for what I have in mind.” He straightened, and Jalil’s stomach tightened. She pressed her lips together to stop a gasp. He held a knife in his hand, the long, thin blade glittering in the overhead light. “Please, no!” She strained against her bonds. “I’ll give you the code if you’ll promise me you won’t share it with Varsh. You can’t trust him. He’s plotting against you.” Zand stopped with the knife posed in midair. His brows drew together in a fierce line. “So, is this one of those fantastical lies Varsh warned me against?” “I’m not lying! When we were on the Sea Nymph, he tried to cut a deal with me. If I gave him the code words, he would let me go back to the Federation.” Zand shook his head as if refusing her accusation. “Did you agree?” She blinked, groping for the right answer. She wanted to deny her treachery, but a deeper instinct told her she had to be honest with Zand, had to speak from the depths of her heart. “I hated to strike a deal with him, but I thought it was the only way I’d ever get off this planet. Later, though, after we made love, I realized I couldn’t betray you. I-I’m starting to have feelings for you. I was going to tell you about his plans and confess my part but he came storming into my room before I could.” She searched his face in desperation for some sign he believed her, but he regarded her with a skeptical stare. Her spirit sank. She could hardly blame him. Her story sounded far-fetched even to her own ears.
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“What bad timing for you.” He flicked his wrist, and the knife blade cut a glittering arc through the air. She flinched, grateful he hadn’t used it on her yet. A small flicker of hope flared to life. Did he still care for her? “If you agreed to help him, why should he turn on you?” Jalil took a deep breath. He was still questioning her. That must mean something. She drew on the courage hope gave her. She might as well lay her emotions bare and pray he’d believe her. “He decided he couldn’t trust me. Maybe he saw what I couldn’t—he saw I was falling in love with you.” Zand bent his head, hiding his reaction. He tapped the blade of the knife against his palm. “Love? You’ve fallen in love with a depraved despot?” Jalil tasted despair. He was using her own words to mock her. Besides, how could she explain something she didn’t understand herself? Her love for him wasn’t a rational choice. Yet something about this man answered the deepest cravings of her soul. She shook her head, pushing hope away. Zand wasn’t going to believe she loved him. She had to concentrate on convincing him Varsh was a traitor. “Pick whatever reason you want. Varsh doesn’t trust me, and he’s decided this way works better for him. If he can torture the code out of me, he gets inside Gypsy’s command center and he doesn’t have to deal with me afterward. He plans to contact the Federation in secret and use the money he makes to aid an enemy of the Lord Imperator.” Zand scowled. “And in return?” “He believes his ally will overthrow the Lord Imperator and give your estate to him as a reward for his help. He claims he would make a better ruler of Katarsh.” Jalil stopped, her throat choked by the despair rising up inside her. It sounded like a wild tale, even to her. Why should Zand believe any of it? He’d known Varsh all his life. They’d grown up together, two brothers, one destined to rule, the other to serve. Only Varsh had wanted the primo role. Looking up, she met Zand’s probing stare. She could read the doubt in his eyes, and the tiny spark of hope that still remained flickered and died. Yet how could she blame him? She was filled with doubts, too. Her experiences since crashing on this damned
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planet had turned her whole world upside down. She was a free and independent woman, a space pilot who owned her ship outright and took no nonsense from anyone. After she’d won the new contract, she’d had the perfect life—or so she thought. Now the idea of returning to the Federation, of telling others about Teymour’s location made her blood run cold. They’d come with their ambassadors and their traders and their socially evolved thinkers, and they’d force Teymour to change. In a year or two, it would be like every other world, democratized down to the lowest common denominator, sedate and oh-so-very dull. The last excitement left in the Federation’s part of the galaxy was riding the space lanes, but her life as a space pilot was a lonely one. Here, though, she’d found unspeakable thrills that went beyond any pleasure she’d ever dreamed of. Zand’s lovemaking had uncovered a side of her she hadn’t suspected existed. She loved the taste of dark and burning desire, loved the thrill of being chained and bound and tormented by a consummate lover. With a little shiver of surprise she realized she didn’t want to leave. Not now, not ever. The silence between them had stretched to the breaking point. Zand raised the knife in his hand and stared at it, contemplating the sharp tip of the blade. Jalil braced herself. This torture was nothing like the mild bondage she’d learned to enjoy during their sex play. One touch from that knife and she’d start screaming again. She wondered how long she could endure the pain before she babbled the code word. And did he mean to kill her afterward or merely carve her skin off bit by bit? Once he had the code, he’d give it to Varsh and all would be lost. She clenched her hands into fists. Maybe she could endure until death came with its dark mercy, maybe not. But she would try. The knife blade dipped, and she froze. Zand slipped it under the leather strap that bound her to the chair and pulled upward. Jalil watched in amazement. He cut her right arm free and then her left. Her skin looked bruised where the straps had dug deep during her struggles. Picking up the jar again, Zand rubbed more of the healing cream into the bruises.
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The pain faded with astonishing speed. Jalil shivered with relief. Stepping back, Zand grabbed her hands and pulled her to her feet. A wave of dizziness passed over her and she swayed, collapsing against his hard chest. His hot breath tickled the fine hairs at the back of her neck. “Jalil.” He ran a hand through her short curls. “What shall I do with you? I never meant for you to suffer this torture. Varsh is a sadist, although I didn’t realize it until now. Please forgive me for that. Still, I can’t let you refuse to cooperate. You must give me the code.” “No.” She shook her head, which brought on a second wave of dizziness. Her fingers dug into his shoulders. She clung to him. His hands went around her waist, supporting her. “Not until you promise me you won’t share it with Varsh.” “Promise you?” He stiffened with anger and pulled her tight against him. “The Liege Lord of Katarsh does not make promises to a slave in his seraglio.” His hand cupped the back of her head and his mouth lowered, claiming hers in a hard kiss. They stood locked together in a tight embrace. His arms crushed her to his strong body while his lips ravaged hers. She could feel his cock growing hard, pressing against her stomach. She groaned and opened her mouth to let his tongue thrust inward. Jerking back, he stared at her with burning eyes. She licked her swollen lips, moistening them for another kiss. Need uncoiled in her belly and pulsed between her legs. Her nipples tightened. She leaned toward him, inviting him to ravish her mouth yet again, but he grabbed her arms instead and yanked her over to the narrow cot. Jalil stumbled, caught off balance by his sudden move. She fell backward onto the cot, knocking Varsh’s briefcase to the floor. Zand’s grin turned fierce. He caught her wrists, forcing her arms back over her head. She felt cold metal clamp over first one wrist then the other and recalled the cuffs she’d noticed earlier set into the wall there. As quick as lightning, he had her bound again. She shivered, and yet a part of her welcomed her helplessness. Her throat tightened. What would he do to her? Zand spread her legs and knelt between them on the cot. He grabbed her calves and pushed her thighs up and back until her knees pressed into her shoulders. Grinning, he
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forced her thighs apart. Jalil shuddered. Her pussy lay open and exposed to his piercing stare. “What a tempting sight you make, my darling slave.” Zand touched her moist flesh with the tip of a finger. “Damp and hot and ready. Varsh was a fool who knows nothing of love’s torture. This opening draws me in and holds me sheathed in silk. It’s the source of unending delight, a torment to desire and a pleasure to possess.” He bent his head. His tongue darted out and plunged straight into her slit. Jalil gave a little cry of pleasure and arched her back, but as quickly as he’d entered her, he withdrew. Jalil twisted her wrists in the cuffs, testing them, but they held firm. Her nipples had hardened into two stiff peaks that thrust upward into the air. Swallowing, she realized she was once again helpless and at the mercy of this man. She wanted her hands free so she could lift her breasts and offer them to him, she wanted him to plant his hot mouth over her aching nipple and suck until her pussy clenched tight with need, but she could do nothing except wait in breathless anticipation for his next sensual touch upon her body. “Do you want me to take you?” The rumble of his voice was somehow close and intimate in the sweltering atmosphere of this tiny room. Her tongue swept over her lips, wetting them. She imagined his fierce kiss. She ached for the pleasure of his cock filling her. “Yes. Oh, yes.” Something hard and big pressed at the opening of her slit, forcing the wet folds apart. She lifted her head and saw his huge erection. The head of his cock pushed a mere inch inside her. She tried to wiggle and force him deeper, but he pressed his hands against the backs of her thighs, holding her legs apart. They faced each other frozen in a sensual tableau for a long moment. Jalil’s breath was coming hard and fast. Oh, god, she wanted him, wanted him to plunge deeper, wanted him to fill her with his massive shaft. His eyes locked with hers, bright with an unspoken demand. “I can’t.” She shook her head, her voice half-strangled. “He will betray you, my lord. Take me, ravage me, do whatever you please with me, but don’t ask me to help your enemy.”
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Frowning, Zand withdrew his cock and sat back on his haunches. Jalil groaned at the sudden emptiness inside her. A vast hollow between her legs ached to be filled. She tried to move, to press her thighs together and gain some relief, but his hands held them apart. A second deeper groan of need escaped her lips. He hadn’t been kidding. This was torture. “I want the code, now!” Zand loomed over her again, his face hard with passion. He bent his head, going down on her once more. His tongue slid up the length of her slit to the top, burrowed under the hood of concealing flesh and found her throbbing clitoris. The rough surface swept over the sensitive nub. Her stomach muscles knotted, her sheath burned, and she cried out.“Zand!” “Woman, do what I ask.” He shifted position and thrust a finger deep inside her. Glad for the smallest relief, she tightened the muscles of her pussy around it. Little ripples of pleasure ran through her, growing stronger, building… Abruptly, he withdrew the finger. “No, please, don’t stop.” She pulled hard on the cuffs holding her bound, desperate with the need for his touch on her stiff nipples, on her aching nub. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. A new frown appeared between his brows. Bending over her, he kissed the dampness away. The tenderness of his kiss almost broke her heart. Dear god, somehow she’d fallen in love with this man. And despite everything, she believed he’d started to care for her, he’d spoken of making her his lady, until Varsh had come with his foul schemes… “You do want me, don’t you, with all your heart.” She nodded. “With all my heart. And I’ll give you anything you ask, my lord, but not the code, not without your promise to keep it from Varsh.” His frown deepened. He lifted his chin, the muscles on his jaw clenched. Conflict surged over his face as hope and disbelief fought for victory. A struggle raged inside him, a struggle between his need to dominate on one side and her evident sincerity on the other. Fear shot through her. What if he rejected her utterly for refusing to submit? What if he left and sent Varsh back to finish what he’d begun?
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Finally, Zand sighed. “I can’t ignore such a fervent warning. All right. I promise.”
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Chapter Nine
Relief engulfed Jalil with the blazing speed of a star going supernova. She couldn’t stop the quick shudder of happiness that ran through her. Zand put a hand on her arm, his flesh reassuring against hers. She remembered how she’d hung helpless in her bounds and how he’d touched her with gentleness, arousing her to an undreamed of passion. Lifting her head, she whispered the code in his ear. “Thank you.” He stroked her cheek, his fingers tracing the line of her jaw. “I’ve learned a lesson today.” Jalil couldn’t hold back her smile. The rush of complete happiness made her giddy. “What is that?” “When you love someone, you share their torment. I can’t endure another moment without taking you.” While he spoke, he positioned himself between her legs. She sighed in anticipation. His cock plunged deep inside her. Jalil lifted her hips to welcome him, her body opening to receive his length. With a swift movement, she wrapped her legs around his butt. He threw his head back and let loose a victorious shout of laughter.
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“Make love to me, Zand.” Jalil looked at him, letting her need show in her eyes. He began to thrust in a fierce rhythm, at the same time cupping her breast in his hand. She cried out with pleasure when he lowered his head and clamped his lips over her throbbing tit at last. Passion blazed between them, and the room faded away. The all-engulfing pleasure of his touch consumed her every thought. She knew nothing but the weight of his body, the continuous bursts of electric ecstasy that ran from her nipples down her spine to her loins, the unbearable pressure that built in her pussy with each savage thrust of his cock inside her. Jalil felt him stiffen. She tightened her inner muscles, and he cried out while his cock throbbed. Groaning, he released his seed into her. A rippling sensation started from the tip of her womb and spread down the length of her sheath. Her back arched and she shuddered again and again. Her thoughts shattering, she clung to him with a cry of joy. Their orgasms seemed to go on forever, feeding on each other. Each exquisite shudder of his body sent renewed pulses of desire flooding through hers. But finally, it ended, fading into a warm flood of bliss that filled them both. Zand lay over her, kissing her mouth, her neck, the flushed skin of her breasts, her tender nipples. She moaned. At last, her eyelids fluttered open. He cupped her face with his big hands, his eyes dark, liquid pools of love. “Promise me.” She touched his mouth with her fingers. “I already did, my sweet.” “Promise me when you enter my ship, you’ll destroy it.” “If I do, there will be no hope of your ever returning to your Federation.” She drew a deep breath. “I know. But Gypsy is a danger to your world. Destroy it. Moxie has a self-destruct code.” Speaking swiftly before she could change her mind, she told him the words. He nodded, and she knew he’d fixed them in his memory. Abruptly, he rose from the bed. “I must act before Varsh has a chance to make further plans.”
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He pulled a blanket out from under her and covered her nakedness. “I’ll return when I’ve destroyed your ship.” “No, wait!” She pulled on her bonds. Why was he leaving her tied up like this? Didn’t he trust her? She wanted to go with him, but he was already out the door, slamming it shut behind him. Jalil collapsed back on the bed, her mind in turmoil. He’d given her his promise. She had to trust him to keep it. The small room had no windows. A single bare ceiling light shone with unchanging brightness. It was impossible to judge the passage of time. She lay on the hard cot for what seemed like hours. Her pussy ached with the remembered pleasure of their lovemaking and each breath filled her nostrils with the sweet scent of their mingled juices. The hours passed with agonizing slowness. She remembered he’d said something about love, and her heart swelled with hope. She remembered the hard look in his eyes when he left her, and she struggled with dark doubts. At last, she fell into a troubled doze. The sound of the door slamming against the wall woke her. Two bodyguards stood in the doorway, their massive arms and shoulders gleaming with sweat. One carried a robe and a leather collar with a delicate silver chain in his hands. He walked over to the bed and dropped the robe on top of the blanket, then bent and unfastened the cuffs. “Get dressed!” Jalil sat up, clutching the blanket to her chest. She felt dizzy with fear. Why hadn’t Zand come back to her? “Did my liege lord send you?” “No talking. Dress!” To her relief, both guards turned their backs on her. At least they’d been told to afford her some privacy. Grateful, she slipped the robe they’d brought over her head. The rich fabric caressed her curves. Obviously, it was not the garment of slaves. Was this a sign of favor? Had Zand done as she’d asked? But if he’d found out she was telling the truth, why had he sent these guards instead of coming himself? “Done?”
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“Yes.” One of the guards turned to face her again, holding the collar in his hands. Realizing it was useless to struggle, she dropped her arms to her sides and let him fasten it around her neck. She’d made her decision for better or worse when she’d given Zand the code. She was committed to him and his world now. The collar hugged her neck, but the leather was soft against her skin. A silver chain was fastened to a loop on one side. The guard held the other end. He gave the chain a slight tug. “Follow. Stay close.” Within a few steps, she discovered she had no choice. If she fell back, the guard gave her collar a ruthless yank, choking off her breath for a scary moment. Struggling to keep her head high, she followed them up stairs and down various corridors. She felt like an animal being led on a leash, and her fears grew with each step. Everywhere along their path, people stopped and stared, pointing at her and whispering behind their hands. She wondered why. She felt sure the sight of a slave woman at the end of a chain wasn’t unusual in Zand’s palace. Had some other rumor about her spread like wildfire through the court? At last they came to a pair of high wooden doors carved with intricate figures—men at battle or sitting on thrones dispensing justice. Two more guards stood in front at attention. Her guards greeted one of them, and he swung the doors open. A long sweep of shining marble floor lay before Jalil. Zand sat in an imposing chair on a golden dais at the end of the hall, his elbow propped on one knee, his chin in his hand. Varsh stood at his side, his thin face set into hard lines, his hands clasped in front of him. On both sides of the aisle that led up to the dais, noble men and women stood bunched together in groups, watching her. All conversation had stopped the moment the doors had opened. Silently, the guards marched forward, pulling her after them. When they reached the area in front of the dais, they stopped. The guard holding Jalil’s chain dropped it and they both stepped back.
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“Take a look at this woman, Varsh.” Zand straightened and placed his hands on his knees. “She has been a problem since the day she crashed here.” “I quite agree, my lord.” Varsh sniffed and lifted his nose as if scenting something putrid. “Were you able to torture the code out of her?” “Oh, yes.” Zand smiled. “I told you my way would work better than yours, did I not? When I pretended that I loved her, she not only gave the code up, she whispered it quite charmingly in my ear.” His words hit Jalil like a blow to her gut. The breath exploded out of her. She staggered and almost fell to her knees. Dear god, he’d tricked her! Varsh shot a triumphant leer at her. “You can leave her ship to me, my lord. I’ll take care of learning all we can about her Federation and then destroying it.” “Of course, I trust you. But what about this female traitor?” Zand tapped a fingertip against his chin. “What do you suggest I do with her? She was planning to betray me.” “No, Zand, never!” Even as she made the protest, Jalil’s heart sank. Zand’s face held a neutral expression, the calm look of a judge about to dispense justice. She was already tried and convicted in his eyes. She’d gambled on his love—and lost. Varsh smirked and jabbed a finger in her direction, his eyes unnaturally bright with the glow of his triumph. “She is a traitor, my lord. Traitors deserve no mercy. She should be put to death.” Zand pressed his fingertips together and bowed his head as if deep in thought. When he raised it again, his lips were set in a stern line. “We have not used the death penalty here in Katarsh for many hundreds of years. Such a thing is barbaric.” Varsh shook his head. “You must make an exception, my lord. In this case, this criminal is dangerous and truly deserves to die. What she planned to do would have destroyed the lives and happiness of all your people.” Jalil lowered her gaze to the pink marble of the floor. Hope drained from her body. She could not bear to look at Zand’s face, not when he was about to decree her death. Her whole body felt cold as ice. She was nothing but a sex slave to him. He didn’t love her. She was stranded light years from the Federation. Death would come as a mercy.
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“So how do you suggest I execute her?” Zand’s cold question seemed to reach her from a great distance. She fought back a wave of dizziness and tried to concentrate on controlling the wild beating of her heart. Not much longer and this pain would end, all pain would end. “My lord, she deserves a slow death, one where she’ll suffer. I suggest you have one of the guards strangle her.” “So be it.” Zand rose to his full, imposing height. His face hard, he turned to his halfbrother. “I agree that traitors must die—and you, Varsh, are the traitor.” At first the words barely registered with Jalil, so deeply had she sunk into her grief. She heard Varsh cry out in shock and lifted her head. Zand turned toward her, his dark eyes, shining with love, and took a step in her direction. “My lord, what are you saying?” Varsh threw himself in front of Zand. He collapsed to his knees at Zand’s feet, his hands thrown wide, his face white with shock. Zand stepped back, pulling his robe free of Varsh’s grasping hands. He straightened to his full height and his voice rang through the chamber. “I got the secret code from Jalil earlier today. I went into her ship and downloaded the data contained in her computer. Our scientists will analyze it and see what we can learn from her Federation. When I was finished, I gave the computer a final command, and it initiated a self-destruct sequence, just as Jalil had said it would.” “My lord, I don’t understand.” Varsh looked bewildered. “Jalil gave me the code to destroy her ship, her last means of escape. She was telling the truth. She loves me and wants to stay here. That means you were lying, Varsh. You were about to betray me.” “No, my lord. You are my brother. I—” Zand cut off his words with a sharp gesture. One of the guards strode forward and grabbed Varsh’s arm, yanking him away from the dais. Feeling no joy, only numbness, Jalil turned and watched them drag her enemy from the room. Zand stepped down to her side. She raised her eyes to search his face. “Will you have him executed?”
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He gave her a stern look. “Yes. Such behavior cannot be tolerated. But I’ll end his life more mercifully than he suggested ending yours.” Jalil drew in a shaky breath. With a tender smile, Zand reached down to grab the silver chain that dangled from her collar. He wrapped it around his hand, pulling her to him. She crashed into his chest and pressed her hands against his rock-hard muscles. The heat of his body melted the last of the cold fear that had surrounded her. His nearness sent tingles of desire rushing down her spine. His warm breath brushed her cheek. He pressed a tender kiss against her forehead. “Will you forgive me for this little farce?” He nodded his head toward the watching nobles. “I know it frightened you, but I needed Varsh’s final humiliation to take place before the whole court.” She didn’t care, not when it was over and his arms were wrapped around her again. “What will become of me?” He nodded his head toward the dais. “There is room for two chairs there, and I’ve need of a lady wife. Will you marry me, Jalil?” Already his mouth was lowering toward hers. She managed to whisper a single word. “Yes.” He swept her into his arms and his lips claimed hers. Finally, life was perfect.
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About the Author
To learn more about Kassie Burns, please visit www.kassieburns.com. Send an email to
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Look for these titles by Kassie Burns
Now Available: Starbound
There’s life out there, and it’s hungry for sex.
Starbound © 2007 Kassie Burns Held captive aboard the Starbound in the depths of interstellar space, a group of humans is ruled by alien sexual predators called the Napau who have one inviolable law: Love one, love all. Far from a decree of benign romantic freedom, this law serves a sinister purpose: To keep the humans from fixating on each other, leaving their bodies free to be used by the Napau as sexual slaves. Jerod and Erlinn defy the Napau by falling in love, and take rebellion one step further by planning to marry. Quick to retaliate, the Napau summon Jerod to the Temple of Eros to serve their sexual pleasures, tearing the lovers apart. Desperate, Erlinn turns to Jerod’s friend Kev for help in freeing Jerod and continuing the rebellion he started. Kev joins forces with her, risking his budding relationship with his own lover, Gem. But soon Kev and Gem must reunite to save the Napau’s next victim: Erlinn. Entrapped in the web of the Napau’s lust, the four lovers must overcome possession, distrust and jealousy and act as one to discover the secret that could free humanity for all time.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Starbound: Erlinn stared up into the troubled eyes of the man she loved. Jerod was keeping something from her. She had no doubt of that. Whatever it was, he was too stubborn to tell her—or too proud, most likely. She watched his hands stroking her body, each caress sending hot rivers of pleasure rippling along her skin. He had strong hands, with long, agile fingers. His caresses made her tremble with pleasure. His touch was tender and yet demanding. She could barely comprehend that soon another consciousness would move those hands over her. Horror, thick as a black cloud, threatened to engulf her. Fighting back a wave of nausea, she took a long, deep breath and focused on the mural on the far wall. Naked men
and women, their bodies tangled together in erotic postures, mocked her. Their distorted faces twisted in unholy passion. She searched her mind for another question. At least the questions kept the terror at bay. “When I wake up, will that be the end of my service to the Napau?” Jerod’s hand tightened on her knee, his fingers digging into her flesh. “I can’t say. Sometimes when the gods choose, they use the person for only a night. Other times something about that person catches their fancy. If that happens, they may keep you here for a week or even a month.” A week, a month…with him, this man she loved, but not with him. She wondered if she could stand it, or if her sanity might shatter. “But never longer than that,” he finished, once more looking away from her. A muscle jumped in his cheek and his free hand clenched into a fist. His anguish frightened her. If they would forget what was to come once they were possessed, why did he have this terrible fear in his eyes? Something had hurt him, leaving a deep and bitter wound. Leaning closer, Erlinn studied the features she knew so well. She wanted to comb her fingers through his silky hair, to stroke his brow and comfort him like a child. But instinctively she knew he’d never accept her comfort. Shame burned in his eyes, the shame of a man who felt helpless to protect the woman he loved. She shook her head, forcing those thoughts away. She had to learn more about the Napau while she could. “They lose interest in us quickly?” Jerod glanced upward and then her way, his brows drawn into a stern line. Erlinn bent her head in a slight nod of acknowledgement. The prickling she’d felt before remained, like a scratchy blanket against her skin. He was warning her that the Napau were hovering invisible, listening to their every word. “These beings are evolved beyond anything we can comprehend,” he said, a measure of calm returning to his voice. “When they aren’t on board this ship, they spread out like a wave of light floating between the stars. We can’t imagine the delights of the realm they inhabit. When they come on the starship, they compress their energy to an inconceivable extent in order to become visible to us.”
“Is it painful for them?” “Not painful, no, but the idea of compressing their energy forms had never occurred to them before they tried to communicate with us.” A light sparked in Jerod’s eyes, reminding Erlinn of his old enthusiasm whenever he encountered a new idea. “The first time they did it, they realized it created a totally new experience for them. Essentially, they discovered the material realm.” Erlinn lifted her brows. “How did you learn this?” “Nicion told me. Before our starship arrived, they had no idea there were other living beings in the universe, much less creatures such as us, made of flesh and blood. We fascinate them. They soon learned that they could override our minds with their energy, possess our bodies and experience the physical world. They hunger for it, although after a night of passion, they must return to their true home between the stars.” She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. At least this ordeal wouldn’t last forever. “We’re blessed by the interest the Napau take in us and our starship,” Jerod continued, rolling his eyes heavenward in a silent warning. “When the command androids ran amuck, the ship would have been lost if not for the Napau. We owe them whatever pleasures they desire.” Erlinn lowered her head and hugged her arms across her chest. Once she’d believed in the fairness of that bargain. She’d been willing to loan her body to the gods as a payment for the things they did for humanity. Entering the temple, though, had shattered the last few remnants of her faith. She could only fear what was to come. Shivering, she lifted her head again and sought Jerod’s eyes. She wanted to tell him that she still loved him, to tell him that she would welcome his touch, even if his body moved by the will of an alien being. As if sensing her thoughts, he gave her a sharp glance and lifted a finger. The gesture might have been a trigger, for suddenly the air around her pulsed with a raw burst of energy. A breeze stirred the fine hairs on her arms, although this room lay in the heart of the temple where no breeze could blow. Her skin prickled and her ears caught the barest hint of a low hum of sound. At the foot of the bed, a ball of light broke the
darkness and grew swiftly brighter. For the briefest second, as it flared immeasurably bright, Erlinn threw up a hand to shield her eyes. Two Napau emerged out of the blinding brilliance, their energy bodies shaped into luminous ovals, with outspread wings of pure light. “Greetings, Jerod. Greetings, Erlinn.” The oddly lifeless voice of one of the beings echoed as if it spoke from some infinite space. The sudden radiance that flooded every corner of the room illuminated Jerod’s face, throwing the new lines around his mouth into shadow. He nodded. His features had become a mask, void of emotion. Rising to his feet, he made a slight bow. “Greetings, Liayun. Greetings, Nicion. The female is eager to serve you.” “She is lovely.” The star-bright being called Nicion turned toward her. Two blazing points of flame burned in the depths of the light in an eerie imitation of human eyes. “I cannot decide whether I want to wear her body or use yours, Jerod, so that I can experience the pleasure of fucking her.” The cold, impersonal words sent a shiver of horror racing down Erlinn’s spine. She dug her fingers into the soft mattress. The overwhelming light seemed to beat against her and caress every pore of her bare skin.
She knows the ways of violence and self discipline. Her rival will teach her to surrender to unbridled lust.
Combat! © 2007 K.S. Augustin Ebony Strike’s opponent in the galaxy’s most notorious underground fighting tournament is adept, focused and mysterious. While her days are spent battling for a prize that will save her starving people, her nights are filled with heady, carnal encounters with the oh-so-delicious Aldanen. Strikingly handsome with bronze skin and white hair, Aldanen is a skilled martial artist. But he is also not what he seems. He's undercover for the Fusion, sent to bring down the corrupt Prefect running the illegal tournament. But hot nights of aphrodisiacfueled sex with Ebony leave him wondering—is this blistering attraction the beginning of a new life, or nothing more than drug-propelled lust? Caught between a criminal, the law, and her powerful attraction to Aldanen, Ebony is faced with an agonizing choice. To help him, lose the prize money she desperately needs, and possibly end up in prison. Or sabotage him, grab the money, and run.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Combat!: “Ouch!” “Keep still.” His voice was one of command, and I wondered that I didn’t pick up on that earlier. What did he do in real life? I’d previously detected other traces of the military in his behaviour and how he moved. But was he part of a standard militia? Or maybe a mercenary? “And don’t even think of scratching,” he warned me as my hand twitched. I curled it into a fist to keep from misbehaving. Aldanen was wielding a sharp pair of tweezers with precision. The Chitterin had not just slashed and pricked me in places, it had left small hairs bearing irritant compounds wherever it had touched bare skin. That was what caused the burning sensation.
I had given Aldanen’s body a close inspection and now it was his turn to remove the thin invaders from my skin. He was finishing, there was only the long cut on my cheek left to do, and those full lips of his were centimetres from mine. I glanced at the stormy depths of his eyes then looked away. I hadn’t felt this uncomfortable in front of a man for decades. “That’s it. Hold still while I apply some antiseptic.” The gel was cool on my skin, a welcome antidote to the hot stinging that had been plaguing me for the past hour. We must look like the walking wounded, I thought with a flash of humour. Aldanen hadn’t survived his own altercation without injury either. Between the two of us, we now sported sprains, abrasions, gashes, cuts and bruises. “We have supper waiting for us,” he told me as he concentrated on dabbing the gel on my jawline. I had tried to wash the Chitterin and my tiredness away with a cold shower and was feeling at least half-alive even if, Aldanen rebuked me, I had managed to send batches of Chitterin hair deeper into my cuts in the process. He, however, the second to return, hadn’t cleaned himself yet. This close to him, I couldn’t avoid his scent of smoky exertion. It was twirling itself around my primitive back-brain and making itself at home, filling my mind with hazy recollections of our love-making. And now he told me we had supper waiting. No surprises what else was mixed in with the food. What an indelicate dilemma Prefect Dinoh presented us with. I could either keep my head…and starve. Or feed myself and end up acting like some sex-crazed animal for other people’s entertainment. “We have a full day off tomorrow,” Aldanen added. I said nothing. He finally sat back. “All done. Why don’t you set out the food while I clean myself up?” I looked at the covered tray and it was as though there were venom-fangs under there, waiting to pump their poison into me. “There’s nothing you can do about it, Ebony,” he told me softly. “We have to get through this one way or another.” Then he rose and left.
There was never a time that Ebony Strike let her guard down. Like a suit of armour, my aloofness enabled me to keep a distance from anyone I came in contact with. Maybe the first layer of distance had been laid with the news of Dolen’s death but my reputation—and the increasing number of people who sought to take that away from me—helped build the successive layers, one after another, until nothing got through anymore. It was sick how one person used the power of his position to manipulate beings into public acts of intimacy. And it was sick how the galaxy had empowered such a person instead of those who had even marginally higher standards of ethics. Centuries from now, someone would be able to find a vid of me finding pleasure with a man while under the influence of coercive substances. And, long dead, I would be in no position to even defend or explain myself. But…and here was the kicker…there was a part of me that liked the lack of control the drugs gave me. The part of me that was sick of playing Ebony Strike or Xin Dell. The part that wanted to share my life with someone without having to wonder whether his hand held a weapon. What scared me as I stared at the tray was not that my act of sexual gratification was being recorded for semi-public consumption but that I was looking forward to taking the drugs and forgetting myself with Aldanen. My back and face had stopped hurting. I got up and walked to the tray, lifting the lids with a deceptively steady hand, looking at the food that lay there so innocently. I began to eat. My second-to-last coherent thought was whether previous combatants from other Series had become addicted to the aphrodisiac mix Dinoh concocted. My last coherent thought, as Aldanen emerged—naked—from the bathroom, was how he got injured on his inner left thigh. I hadn’t noticed a rip on his clothes when he returned from his fight with a Chitterin, yet there was now a flesh-colored discreet oblong bandage on his skin. I stayed where I was, even though the temptation to walk over to him and topple him on the bed was immense.
He smiled as he got closer and indicated the piece of fruit in my hand. “You started without me.” “I was hungry.” My voice was husky with need. Aldanen took the fruit from my hand and put it into his mouth. I watched him chew, then the bob of his throat as he swallowed, and lust hit me in the stomach. I growled and attacked him, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling his head down to me. There was a moment of hesitation, of resistance, then he groaned and crushed me to him. My mouth felt hot over his, a fevered heat that probed his coolness, playing with his tongue and urging it to consider more adventurous moves. “How’s your ankle?” he asked as I propelled him backward. “I. Don’t. Care.” I was busy shedding my clothes, then I pushed him so he fell on the bed and levered myself above him. His hair was soft, silky, and I drank in his features—the bronzed skin that threw his cheekbones into sharp relief, eyes that swirled amber and green, and the short white stubble that roughened his jaw. I felt hands grab my buttocks and urge me forward, over his belly and chest. Then he moved, arms tunneling under my legs and pushed me forward again. My breath quickened as I shimmied forward some more. And then, at the end, to help him, to help myself, I reached down and parted the lips of my labia as I lowered myself on his mouth. The feeling was exquisite and I shouted out in sudden pleasure. His face was rough against the tender flesh of my inner thighs and as he moved his face from side to side, nuzzling me, the sandpaper of his jaw sent spikes of delicious sexual chafing through my body. Then the wetness of his tongue flicked me, ran up and down my clitoris. His hands pushed me again as he inserted his tongue into me, lapping at my own drenched readiness. In. Out. While I kept the lips of my sex apart and presented myself to him, moaning but forcing myself to keep still. Wanting an orgasm to crest and carry me away. Wanting his exploration to continue for eternity.
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