Ardor's Leveche (8 page)

“She won’t like it.”

“Nor would she like the pain that implant will give her. Keep her under.”

Breva nodded though he doubted his overlord could see the action. He ducked into the cavern opening and followed the dimly lit rushes that lined the pathway into the belly of the mountain.

Standing on the barren world of R-9, the Reaper watched the storm gaining momentum, coming straight toward him. Such savage displays of nature tended to last three days, sometimes as long as a week. The lightning would strike all around the escarpment, shearing off sections of the tall spires, whittling them down. Anyone foolish enough to get caught out in the advancing storm deserved the fate waiting for them.

After taking one last look at the fiery stitches of destruction heading his way, he spun around and headed for the cave’s entrance. One question was buzzing around in his head like an angry bee and he could not seem to mentally bat it away. It hunched his shoulders as he walked, tightened his gut and sent icy rivulets of rage down his spine.

“
Damn
him
,”
she had cursed.
“
He didn’t trust me.
”

Who, the Reaper wondered, was this man and what had he meant to Ardor Kahn to bring tears to her eyes?

Whoever he was, Lord Savidos thought, as he ducked under the stony archway and entered the mouth of the cave, his life was forfeit for having hurt her.

42

Ardor’s Leveche

“Why the hell aren’t we receiving any Intel from Kahn?” Bowen demanded of the tech. He was standing beside the younger man, glaring at the Vid-Com screen where only blackness showed.

“I don’t know, Sir. All we’ve gotten so far has been on the
Borstal
. There were guards going into and out of the communal cell, taking prisoners out but Captain Kahn was—”

“Major Kahn,” Bowen corrected with a hiss.

“—Major Kahn,” the man continued without missing a beat, “was left on her own with the lights turned out in the cell.”

“Somehow they’ve made her,” Bowen snarled, punching the palm of his left hand with the fist of his right. “What were you able to get after that?”

“The cell door was opened and bright light intruded to effectively blind her. After that, there were disjointed images of a man we believe is Major Raoul Breva, Lord Savidos’ second-in-command, and what appears to be a masked figure lurking in the background.”

“The Reaper,” Bowen snapped. “That’s what Savidos means in their language. I’d like to get a good look at the son-of-a-parasitic dog!”

The tech’s fingers flew over his computer keyboard and when the image of Lord Savidos’ skeletal camouflage filled the vid-screen, the colonel stepped back, drawing in a gasping breath. Even from across time and space, the menace in that gruesome disguise was palpable.

“There are other images of who we believe is Major Breva visiting Kahn’s cell but since we did not include auditory pickup in the transponder, we don’t have an idea what was being said.”

“What about reading the lips of those talking to her?”

Letting out a long breath, the tech nodded. “That we can most likely do. I’ll see who we have who might have that ability.”

“They aren’t torturing her, are they?” Bowen asked, chewing on a thumbnail as he stared at the image of the Reaper glaring back at him, crimson eyes glowing.

“I don’t think so, Sir, but we can’t be sure. Something is interfering with the broadcast of the Intel.”

“Did you increase the signal as I ordered?”

43

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

A frown marred the youthful face of the tech. “I did exactly as you requested, Sir, although I am sure the increase in the signal had to have been felt by Major Kahn.” He glanced up at the colonel. “That could be why we’ve received no further data from her.”

“What do you mean?” Bowen challenged.

“The pain could have been so intense it either knocked her out or the Storians took it upon themselves to help relieve her discomfort and she’s unconscious.”

“Well, which is it?” Bowen snapped.

“Best guess?” the tech asked, grinding his teeth. “She’s unconscious and I imagine the Storians have drugged her.”

“Why would they treat her with any degree of consideration? She is a prisoner of war.”

A slight smile hovered on the tech’s lips. “From what I can gather from studying the interaction between Major Kahn and her captors, I would guess she’s garnered the interest of both Major Breva and Lord Savidos. You know how Storians are with their women. Perhaps one of them intends to keep her as a harem woman.”

“Not as long as I have breath in my body, they won’t!” Bowen shouted. He slapped his hands behind his back and began pacing, his eyes shifting back and forth as he went over the situation. “Increase the signal a bit more. If there is still no data coming back to us—say within an hour—back it off to the level it was before. After that, try increasing the signal again later in the day.”

“Aye, Sir,” the tech acknowledged, his lips twisted.

“They’d better not hurt her is all I can say,” Bowen growled. “I’ll wipe their paltry world out of the galaxy if they do!”

* * * * *

Breva met his overlord as soon as the Reaper had passed the last security checkpoint into the underground base.

“Healer Talil says it would be best to bring the Guardian to him at the facility, but if that is not possible, he himself will gather what is needed and bring it with him when the storms subside,” Breva said.

Lord Savidos cursed. “We can’t keep her under that long,” he complained. “Where is she?”

“I figured you’d want her as comfortable as possible so we put her in the queen’s chambers.”

“Well, it’s not as though those quarters are being used, is it?” the Reaper asked, sensing the disapproval in Breva’s tone.

“I hope you don’t plan on—”

“Have the healers here had a look at her?” Lord Savidos put him off.

“Healer Idpa did a cursory exam,” Breva replied.

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Ardor’s Leveche

“And?” his overlord prompted.

“He seems concerned that they won’t be able to remove the implant without doing her serious damage.” Breva ran a hand over his face. “There was some blood that had oozed from her right ear and he said that wasn’t a good sign.”

“The bastards must have increased the signal strength when they couldn’t get the visual feedback they expected.”

“Idpa seemed to think that was the case, too.”

“And they say we are barbarians,” Lord Savidos snapped. He looked about them. “I feel like I have a ton of sand pressing down my spine. I think the vacuum system at the first airlock needs its filters cleaned. While I take a shower, see to it, Raoul.”

“I live to serve,” Breva said with a sigh. “Now I can add janitorial service to my résumé.”

“You’ll need all the references you can get when I demote your ass to plebe,” the Reaper said with a grunt.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Breva said, rolling his eyes.

Lord Savidos feigned a punch at his 2-I-C’s midsection then strolled off, surprising those at the checkpoint by whistling as he walked.

“Why is he in such a good mood?” one of the guards asked the major.

“Hell if I know,” Breva replied although there was a look of worry in his dark eyes.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard him whistle.”

“I didn’t know he knew how,” Breva returned.

“And it makes me uneasy,” the guard admitted.

“It makes
you
uneasy?” Breva quipped. “It scares the hell outta me!”

Listening in on the conversation between his second-in-command and the guard, the Reaper was actually grinning behind his grisly mask although the breathing apparatus that had been attached to his mask had given him a wicked headache. Prone to brutal migraines, he hoped a cluster wasn’t announcing its imminent appearance.

That fledgling headache was another reason he believed he felt so keenly for Ardor Kahn’s condition.

Stopping at the corridor intersection that led to his own quarters, he looked the opposite way and his attention zeroed in on the queen’s chambers. For a moment he stood there debating whether or not he should check on the Riezell Guardian or leave well enough alone. That he
wanted
to check in on her did not escape his notice and as he stood there, he tried to examine just why he felt the need to assure himself she was all right. Rarely indecisive about anything in his life or career, his inability to make a decision regarding her also concerned him.

“What are you doing to me, woman?” he whispered.

One more moment he stood there then realized there was about him a slight smell that—although not offensive—wasn’t all that pleasant, either. Sniffing, he recognized 45

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

the smell as the cloying scent of dust mixed with a bit of perspiration caused from the heavy robe he wore. He realized a shower would not only help the gritty feel that was clinging to him but rid him of any potential stench. He wasn’t so sure his breath was all that great, either, and the thought of brushing his teeth to rid his mouth of minute sand particles he had breathed in at the airlock would not be amiss. Besides, he thought, as he turned away from the queen’s chamber, he was sorely in need of the only other thing in his life to which he was addicted. Along with the highly potent narcotic drug tenerse that every Reaper had to inject every day of his life, his passion would be waiting for him in a large glass jar and already his mouth was beginning to water.

And it was right where he’d left it.

“Hello, gorgeous,” he said, opening the lid. “Miss me?”

He scooped up a handful of the yellow spheres inside the jar and carried them with him to the shower, munching contentedly as he turned the hot water on full blast until steam filled the bathing chamber. Bringing the water temperature up a few notches, he stripped, pulled the thong from his hair and climbed inside the oversized stall.

Bracing his palms against the wall under the shower nozzle, the Reaper closed his eyes, bent his head and let the hot water beat on his naked shoulders. The massaging effect lulled him as streams of the soothing liquid dripped from his nose and chin and plastered his hair to his neck and shoulders. The steam swirled around him, warming him as he sighed with the pleasure.

Straightening up at last, he plucked the cinnamon-scented bar of soap from its wall niche and began lathering his chest and arms. The scent of the soap never failed to relax him more and he lingered with the bar running up and down his arms and upper chest.

It wasn’t until he lowered the soapy glob to his midsection that thoughts of Ardor Kahn intruded.

Slowly, his hands moved around his belly as he let his memory of her travel from the soft gleam of her thick chestnut hair to the pale green of her long-lashed almond-shaped eyes to the coral tint of her lush lips. Despite the bagginess of her prison-issue jumpsuit, her womanly curves that accentuated a small waist, more than adequate bustline and shapely hips flanging out from legs that were longer than the average female’s.

The soap dipped into the spiky curls of hair at the apex of his thighs and the swirling motion of his hand slowed even more.

He had derived a modicum of pleasure from pleasuring her, he reasoned. He had given her his full attention—having learned all he could from ancient sex manuals. She had tasted slightly like one of his favorite dishes—boiled potatoes—and he had enjoyed slipping his tongue in and out of her. The memory of her orgasm around his finger sent a shiver of excitement through him. He could not wait for them to mate as the gods intended male and female to mate.

He wondered what it was going to feel like lying stretched atop that curvaceous body with his cock buried inside her. He couldn’t wait to experience the act again, for 46

Ardor’s Leveche

all his recent sexual encounters had been with faceless, voiceless, emotionless cybots designed to use their moisture-encased mouths and single, anal torso openings to accommodate the Reaper’s needs. Bent over a desk with a boxy, unhuman-looking rump perched in the air for his penetration, the creatures were not inductive to enjoying the act—simply providing a means to an end. Oral openings that sucked on his shaft gave no pleasure, simply relief.

What, he wondered as his soapy fingers slid over his cock, would it be like to have Ardor’s sweet little mouth clamped around him? What wondrous pleasures could those full, lush, moist lips give him as she suckled him? Would those slender hands knead his balls until he was ready to burst? Would her slender hips be as heavenly in reality as they were in his imagination? Would she swallow his cum? he wondered, as he pulled at his shaft.

A stabbing pain lanced through his head and he jerked his hand from his cock, his eyes snapping open as he realized what he had been about to do. His heart was hammering in his rib cage and he looked down at the stony erection that was waving at him, begging him to complete what he had nearly done without thinking.

Groaning, he firmly pushed his mind from thoughts of the luscious woman who had begun plaguing his every waking moment and those few stolen ones when he was able to sleep. With his blood pounding through his veins, he quickly finished washing his legs—keeping his hands well away from his privates—and feet then cranked the water down until it was a frigid blast slashing against his hot cock.

He stood there for as long as his chattering teeth could stand it and until he was damned sure his rebellious tool would cease its clamoring to be drained.

* * * * *

Bringing with him a jug of Sustenance, Breva entered his overlord’s quarters and had the beaker prepared for when Lord Savidos exited his shower. Such was their relationship that no permission to enter had been necessary for Breva—it was simply a given. He set the beaker on the table beside an overstuffed conform-chair and took a seat on a low divan nearby, trying not to stare at the dark garnet color of the Sustenance and swallowing convulsively to keep the bile from creeping up his throat.

It had been over two hours since the Reaper had gone to his quarters. Breva heard the shower go off and smiled. Not for the first time did he wonder what the fascination with extremely long showers held for the Reaper. A full hour standing beneath the hot spray was not uncommon for the man he could hear rummaging about in his bedchamber.