Black and Orange (20 page)

The bearded man cocked his head. “Priestess?”

Her gaze leveled on her servant. “Was what I asked for complicated?”

“No, but—”

“You understand then. Go right now and make preparations,
please
.”

Eggert
nodded, dumbstruck, and left the head table, visibly disconsolate.

“Oh but I’m presumptuous. We don’t often have single mates in the Old Domain. You don’t have anyone, do you Paul?” the Priestess asked him.

“I—no, no. Nobody. Not anyone. Nothing.”

She laughed softly and rubbed the side of his foot with hers. “I had several in my land special to me. There hasn’t been time since I arrived here. There still isn’t now, but...”

“Yeah?” he squeaked.

“I like how you make me forget, Bishop Quintana. I haven’t thought about today at all since I saw you in the hallway. You have a spell over me, I think.”

He trembled now.
Trembled!
“It’s over us both.”

Paul knew this was it. He should have been happy it all came together this easy. He felt like this had to be a dream. He’d waited for this moment for over a year. He’d even killed Justin, blew his best friend’s head into vulture kibble, just to sit in this chair, just to say hello to her.

“You’re sure about this?” he asked.

The Priestess didn’t answer him and instead delved into a discussion with Archbishop Pager.

Soon everybody got up and mingled. Cole left with Melissa shortly after and
Sandeus
went out to hobnob with the envoys.

“After conclave, Room 8128,” the Priestess whispered, tickling his ear. Paul wanted to say something in return but she was already submerged in tuxedos.

The Priestess of Morning acquired a presidential suite down the hall from
Sandeus
Pager. There was more security on the top floor, more hallway, more exquisite paintings, more intricate tile work, more of more. Sitting there on a velvet divan, looking through a rain-pelted window twenty feet wide, Paul could positively say he’d never been surrounded by such ostentatious furnishings. He’d never even
dreamed
of being in such a place and in such a position. Most of the décor belonged to the Priestess, donated from the church and its legion of admirers, and he could smell her scent on everything.

Paul stood and took off his tuxedo coat and draped it across the back of the divan. The Priestess had been in her bedroom changing for about fifteen minutes and the waiting caused him to drain three flutes of champagne and attack a bowl of strawberries and a pyramid of white cheeses. He was relaxed, if not approaching a stomach ache.
At least the food isn’t alien
, he thought. Remove the nosey bodyguard from the hallway and Paul would consider this a happy ending to another day of lunacy.

After another flute of champagne, he began to feel his bearings tilt a little. It was a pleasant buzz, nothing harsh. As he tipped the bottle, his eyes burned. It reminded him of the smell of his mother’s gin and tonics and the sex-sweat-funk of her bedroom. So long ago and yet well-remembered.

The Priestess’s bedroom door opened. Paul’s heart trembled and in his mind the children roared. She had on a soft peach teddy, which showcased every weapon she possessed, and they were formidable; peaks and valleys, hellfire and
angelrain
.

“Incredible,” he said.

“I’m offering myself to you. I think you can do better than that.” Her eyes were sinfully bright.

“Wow.”

She approached and all Paul’s inner foundations crumbled. He felt uprooted, for the first time since storming out of his mother’s house.
Christ, just one time I’d like to have those memories die
, he thought with more self loathing.

The Priestess slid up to the divan and took hold of the empty champagne bottle, wiggled it from side to side before dropping it back in the ice. “Wicked of you.”

“Do I need to get more?” Paul was practically gibbering now, unable to speak like a human being. This was happening. This wasn’t a dream. This was real.

“I’ll call.” She pressed her ass into his stomach and straddled Paul while she picked up a phone on the end table. As she dialed, Paul remained stock still, not breathing. He could hear tiny ringing in the phone’s headset. The Priestess took up his left hand and popped his index finger into her mouth. His will crumbled but he focused to retain some control. Paul had never been the weakling and as devastating as her beauty was, the Priestess was just another woman, like any other, and he’d have her eating out of his palm soon enough.

She tucked his moist finger between her legs. A sharp sound came from Paul’s throat as his finger went inside and her warm interior bloomed to his knuckle. The Priestess’s phone voice didn’t hint anything scandalous. “I have some requests
Eggert
. Get in here at once.” She dropped the phone on the charger with a pleasured exhale, “Oh...”

The door to the suite opened and Paul went to move his hand. The Priestess caught it and rammed the finger deeper. He tried to pull it away again but her eyes brightened with a challenge and Paul let it be. Once he caught a glimpse of the scene before him, the bodyguard
Eggert
shuffled over to the divan, sideways, averting his eyes. Even his beard looked embarrassed.

“More champagne and two buckets of ice.”

“Of course, Priestess.” He tried to duck away.

“I didn’t call you in here just to make an order.
Look at me,
” she commanded.

Eggert’s
sullen eyes flowed to hers. Paul could tell
Eggert
had been put through this before, perhaps many times before.

“No, no, no. I want you to look here.” The Priestess spread her legs wider.

The big man suddenly dwarfed and his eyes went down and popped back up. His gaze was impressively stoic. “Is there anything else you require?”
Eggert
asked with a sigh.

With a lazy hand, she pumped Paul’s finger gently in and out of her. Paul circled his finger around, to show his participation still mattered. This small act caused the Priestess to shiver and her eyes retreated to the rain streaked windows. “I don’t know,
Eggert
. Can you make the clouds outside leave?”

“Priestess—?”

Her gaze came back, clear and hateful. “If the clouds leave, I will see the Nomads again. Understand? Tell me that I won’t lose them again. That’s all I want you big fool.”

Eggert’s
lips pursed, out of anger or confusion, Paul could not tell.

The Priestess’s legs spread wider yet. “Just because Archbishop
Kennen
put you on me, doesn’t mean you can resume where he left off. I have Paul now. I’m free.”

Eggert’s
eyes were cast down again. “Very good, Priestess. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

When she said nothing else,
Eggert
strode out of the room. The Priestess slid off Paul’s finger and sunk her hand into his shirt, clawing it open, sending black buttons ringing on the tile. Her hands ran down his abdomen and she
cooed
in approval. Next she took down his slacks and boxer shorts, peeled off his loafers.

“I don’t have any condoms,” said Paul, but it sounded like a joke.

With rabid passion, the Priestess climbed onto him, but Paul caught her by the neck and twisted her body around so she was on her back. She laughed and grabbed greedily between his legs. Paul pulled away, teasing. The Priestess brought up a hand and struck him across the face. His head cracked sideways and lower lip numbed suddenly. Something wet slid from his left nostril. Dazed, he glanced down and found daggers looking up. “You’re a breath from leaving this room, Paul Quintana.”

Before he could say a word, she thrust him down inside her. They rocked back and forth like a diabolical machine. Just then Paul cried out for help. This wouldn’t last long and he pulled out—she leaned into his chest with a shoulder, knocking him back. He extended one leg, but the other remained folded. She climbed onto him and took him inside again. Paul was closer now than before. “No!” he cried.

Her weight trapped him. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“Oh my,” she sang, going back and forth. “So deep. I’ve missed this. How I’ve missed this feeling. Like the orgies in the
Wexxan
glades, night after night.”

She went faster and Paul panicked. “Not so, quick, goddamn you.”

Her
penduluming
lessened as she heeded his warning, but a wry smile twisted her lips. She grabbed his hand and rubbed circles into his wrist. “I’m putting you in my sight,” she told him. Her eyes were startling to Paul, but he couldn’t speak. “I will have a single mate just like the other women in this realm. You’ll never
lay
with anyone else, unless I tell you to.”

“To hell with that,” Paul said, but whimpered. Her insides clenched around him fiercely and he mumbled softly. “Fuck, I love you.”

“Of course you do.” She got off him. He thought he might start bawling then at the loss. Something severe settled in Priestess’s eyes. He hadn’t noticed in the fray, but
Eggert
had reentered the room with a tray containing two bottles of champagne on ice. The Priestess rushed over, rainy moonlight painting her body. She pulled the champagne bottles from each bucket and let them drop to the carpet. Something awful, like a hiss followed by cackling, came from her throat.
Eggert
stared at her, obviously comprehending some communication from the sounds, and he didn’t seem to like what he heard.

The big man placed the tray down on the coffee table and then headed swiftly for Paul. Paul staggered to his feet, knees watery and weak, and tripped over his loafers.
Eggert
caught him with two powerful hands and shoved him face first into the sofa. Paul pushed forward to the Old Domain—
Eggert
yelped and drew his hand away. “Shit, stupid,” he self admonished.

A savage hiss escaped the Priestess again.

Paul felt something soft press into his back.
Eggert
put a hip into it and held Paul there, buffered by the couch cushion. Paul mentally pushed at the cushion, attempting to send it over so he could reach
Eggert
. But he couldn’t concentrate anymore. He pushed with all his mind had, but he could hardly breathe—then he felt the Priestess’s soft hands spread his ass open. Paul bucked, but
Eggert’s
weight and his delirium proved too much.

The Priestess spoke from somewhere nearby. “There is no true sacrifice in lust. We must first calm your loins with frost before we set them to flame. This is the way.”

The ice cube mostly melted as it was pressed into him, but a sharp frozen peg lodged inside and Paul howled. Adrenaline shot through him and
Eggert
really had to hold on now. “Hush hush,” the Priestess told him and inserted another. The ice cube’s sides melted only a little and shot freezing cold all the way into Paul’s abdomen. He couldn’t help it—she’d won, damn her anyway—he trembled and began silently crying.

An immense pressure left his shoulders.
Eggert
had released him.

“Get out of here!” the Priestess commanded, as though her servant had never been invited in the first place.

She took Paul’s hair in a fist and yanked his head up. “I want you on top of me! Hurry!”

He twisted around and icy pain shot through his bowels. The raindrops outside struck the massive window like little bullets from a dark heaven. Her eyes hardened to stone. “Why did you do that?” he demanded.

“No questions, earthborn!” she roared. “On me, do it now!”

Without thinking he struck her with an open palm. It wasn’t full force but a tart redness sent up into her cheek.

“Is that all?” she shouted, tears in her eyes.

With a fist he came twice across her face, understanding this might well be her thing, but it served two purposes simultaneously. His next strike sent the Priestess reeling for a minute, drunk on sadism. A thin
stripe
of blood slid from nose. Her mouth opened in awe of him, so relieved he was everything she’d hoped him to be, and she embraced him.

Tremors went through his body as icy water drained out of him and down his leg. “Why?” he asked her again.

She stroked his hair, as though to say
poor baby
. More stroking, more
poor babying
. “I will restore your warmth. Go inside me.”

Paul did.

“This is the way!” she cried. He started pumping and she slammed his head into her breast. “Bleed it! Bleed it my lord!”

He bit her nipple until liquid iron tickled his tongue. She viciously came, grabbing hold of a table lamp and ripping it from its power cord. When she hurled it into a wall and the light bulb exploded, Paul felt her power overtake his emotions once more. This woman was a divine creature, a challenge he hadn’t been ready for. She
orgasmed
two more times, each outdoing the last.

“Plant your seeds in my mouth,” she chanted.

Paul withdrew and inserted himself. She sucked everything out of him until he yelped from the sensitivity. She then shoved him away, her demeanor made cruel from satiation.