Bride of the Trogarians (10 page)

There was a time when such a speech would have been cut short with a stern punishment. But Zios knew Iris spoke the truth. Innocent beings were dead, and the reputation of the Trogarians was damaged—perhaps beyond repair. Even if they had not been willingly enlisted to slaughter innocents for the sake of Traoian trader profits, once word spread, the proud image of the Trogarian protector would be in shambles.

Zios rose. Never in the history of his race had a woman been part of a diplomatic council delegation. But under the circumstances, he believed it was time.

He called a second meeting after meeting with his brother, and as Iris waited in the bedchamber, the two argued for her inclusion in the delegation that would meet with the Traoians, who’d invited the council to the domed cities for a debriefing. Iris had told them what she knew of the one respected leader and revered elder, Augustus Bron, who was currently away from the planet on diplomatic business. Bron had become the moral compass of the planet, and she believed that whatever had happened was done without his knowledge or consent.

Much debate ensued. Some on the Trogarian council, already concerned that the incident could damage their image as a protective culture, expressed concern that the inclusion of a female on a potentially explosive debriefing would increase the insecurities of a people who took comfort in the stability of their cultural traditions. When Iris asked to speak, half the council erupted in anger. More debate ensued, and finally it was decided she could address them.

“I understand that you worry that a female among you who is allowed to show strength raises concerns,” she said. “Many of you may feel that if females speak up, we will be less submissive. But understand that we already show strength. Trogarian mates birth your children, often crossing star systems and setting up homes on unfamiliar planets while pregnant or nursing. They are forever ready for the possibility of attack, of going on without their mates should they fall in battle. My show of strength is small compared to that. And it makes me no less submissive to my mates, Utak and Zios.”

The brothers could not have been more relieved when, after much discussion, it was agreed that she should be allowed to accompany the delegation.

Later, when they were alone, the brothers sat on either side of her and told her how proud they were of her.

“It took great courage to speak up, knowing you faced punishment had you displeased us.”

Iris flushed and looked at the ground. “Punishment,” she said. “The thought of it scares me, but I’ve discovered that correction, when it comes, makes me feel loved and safe.” She flushed. “Sometimes it makes me feel something else…”

“And what is that?” Utak pushed her to all fours so that her bottom was now facing them. “You must tell us now, or your mates will be angry.” His tone was as teasing as the finger that rimmed her twitching bottom hole.

“I feel…” They watched her struggle to describe the flush that was coming over her as she spoke. As Utak’s finger continued to stroke and probe her bottom hole, his brother’s hand had found her pussy, and a finger was rubbing the hood of her clit in light, lazy circles, awakening the little nub and coaxing it from beneath its fleshy cover.

When she was fully aroused, Zios lay on his back, lifting her until she was straddling his face. Iris moaned as one mate greedily fed on her aching pussy while the other feasted on her breasts, pulling the nipples taut. As he did, he reached behind to spread her ass cheeks so that his brother could lubricate his finger with her juices before slipping it inside her bottom.

Zios’ finger was thick, and the feel of his invading digit combined with the fevered stimulation of her pussy and nipples was soon pushing her over the edge. She was just beginning to come when Zios lifted her and slammed her down over his cock, the invasion taking her breath away. When she opened her mouth to moan, it was filled with Utak’s fleshy spear, which she sucked greedily.

The three were now as one, sharing sensations, sharing thoughts. Iris’ head bobbed up and down on the cock of one brother while the other held her hips and pumped her up and down on his shaft. The tent filled with moans and groans and the wet, wanton sounds of flesh sliding into flesh. And when both brothers came at once, Iris felt herself pumped full of seed from below even as she swallowed as much of Utak’s offering as she could hold. In that moment, she felt as if she was the receptacle, as if she was the All that Is, both giving and receiving. Never had she felt more powerful or feminine. Never had she felt stronger.

She would need that strength, she told herself later as the realization of the upcoming trip dawned on her. It would be her first visit back to the people who had lied to and betrayed her. But she would be with her mates, and they would protect her. She sank into a deep sleep with a smile on her face. They would be by her side. What could go wrong?

Chapter Nine

Iris had been banished from the domes of TraoX39 in disgrace. Now she returned as the mate of two powerful and angry chieftains embroiled in a sensitive military scandal.

The party was kept outside the gates for some time before being admitted into the domed city. If the Trogarians were impressed by the display of technology, they didn’t show it. Or perhaps, Iris decided, they were too affronted by being deceived to focus on anything beyond their own indignation.

As they waited to be escorted to the senatorial chambers, Iris kept her eyes on the IntelliBoards, looking for any reports of the Odh slaughter. There was nothing; news had not reached the outside yet. Or, if it had, it was being kept from the Traoian people.

Finally, a shuttle took the delegation deep into the government complex. The senatorial dome was massive, and housed buildings and living quarters for the most elite leaders of the planet. A stab of almost physical pain filled Iris’ chest as she thought of Nora, who’d thought she’d be living in one of these lavish apartments. Where was she now? Iris had long given up on prayer, but since becoming Trogarian, she found herself subconsciously communicating with the All that Is, and now asked the force that had touched her the night she’d mated with Utak and Zios to look after her friend and—if it was willed—to save her from any terrible fate.

The senate chamber, when they reached it, was cleared save for a handful of politicians. Iris recognized one of the men as having been in attendance with Malo Yvin the day she was banished. Now, as she entered, his eyes were fixed on her, and his mouth twitched in undisguised anger as she walked between the two Trogarian chieftains who led the way. Iris allowed herself to stand tall and straight with pride; they’d thought they were handing her over to barbarians who would rape and kill her. But now, she knew who the real barbarians were. They did not wear skins and leather and live in tents; they wore fine robes and hid beneath glass domes.

As the Trogarian delegation assembled before the senators, another Traoian entered the room. Iris recognized Ingus Sprang at once. He wore the same haughty expression on his ferret-like face, and when he glanced over and saw her, the hatred that flashed in his eyes for the briefest second eclipsed that of the senator’s.

They were all seated when Senator Clim began to speak.

“We are eager to hear your debriefing,” he said. “We trust your forces waged a successful operation against the invading forces that threatened our planet?”

Zios leaned forward, putting his hands on the large, gleaming table where his delegation was seated facing the platform.

“The Odh are all dead, down to the last one,” he said.

On the platform, the senators made the pretense of nodding bravely. But the only one who did not was the man sitting at the end of the row. Iris leaned over and whispered to Zios.

“That’s Ingus Sprang,” she whispered.

Zios nodded, and underneath the table, squeezed her hand by way of reply as he fixed the panel with a hard stare.

“This is a good report,” the senator said.

“It is not just a report, but a warning.”

The Traoians looked at each other uneasily as Zios continued. “The Odh were not invaders. They were traders, rival traders invited here for what they believed were to be negotiations.” When the senators and Sprang sat in stony silence, Zios continued. “There was one survivor, who told us.”

Sprang leaned forward, cutting Zios off. “You were ordered not to engage them!” His high, reedy voice, heavy with arrogant indignation, rang through the chamber.

“Ordered by whom!” Utak’s voice boomed over the merchant’s, drowning him out. “We were asked here to offer protection! Not to be hired killers to the financial advantage of a select few!”

He glared at the panel. “Know that we are leaving your planet, and will be lodging a grievance with the Federation of Galactic Civilizations.”

Now the senators glanced at one another, and Iris felt a sudden sense of unease. Looks that should have been concerned were sly.

“Oh, a report will be filed, my Trogarian friend,” Senator Clim said. “But not against us.”

The doors on the sides of the chamber opened, and armed guards entered, their weapons trained on the Trogarian delegation. Zios and Utak and the others scrambled to their feet, reaching for their own, but the senator’s warning stopped them.

“Do not draw,” he said. “You’ll find your crude implements of war effective in cutting down those we deem to be obstacles to our prosperity. But against ours, you are helpless.”

Iris felt herself trembling as she realized the truth of the senator’s words.

“We will be lauded for exposing the Trogarians’ regrettable attack on our peaceful allies, whose top officials—including their minister of trade—have been lost.” His tone was mocking now. “Your women and children will be banished from our planet. You will be imprisoned here.”

The senator’s eyes fell on Iris. “Except for one. It seems that you fared better than we would have expected, and now sit at this table as an equal to the men we thought would destroy you in body and spirit.”

Ingus Sprang spoke up. “She’s as fair as I remember,” he said. “But just as haughty. Just as defiant.” He smiled. “I do believe I will show mercy on your mate,” he said to Zios and Utak, who each had placed a protective arm on Iris. “I obviously cannot take her as mine, but I believe she will be an asset to the pleasure houses I plan to open, after, of course, I make sport of her myself.”

When Utak lunged for the trader, Iris cried out. One of the guards had stepped between them, and had the muzzle tip of his laser gun pointed directly at the center of the huge Trogarian’s chest.

“Don’t,” Iris said. “Don’t die for me. Not here.”

She’d never seen strong men tremble, and whether it was from rage or fear, she did not know. All Iris knew was that they were being separated. The guards were all pressing in now, and the Trogarians who chose to fight were hit with the same kind of weapons that had been used to capture her, only these were electrically charged and left them bound and flipping on the floor like fish.

Zios and Utak, recognizing the futility of fighting, had no choice but to stand down as their men were subdued and Iris was ripped away from them and handed over to Ingus Sprang, who took hold of her arm with a viselike grip. Iris looked down at his thick, long-fingered hand cluttered with gaudy jeweled rings and felt revulsion. The trader was tall and thin and smelled of exotic spice with undernotes of the heady perfume she remembered from the luxury spas where she and the others had been groomed. She imagined that under his robes, Ingus Sprang was—like so many of the upper class—likely denuded of hair himself, with a body as soft and pale as her own.

“Is this not better,” he asked, “to be back among the civilized beings, even if you are still nothing more than a thing to be used?”

She acted without thinking, balling up her fist and hitting him as hard as she could across the face. The trader looked back. His thick nose was leaking blood onto his saffron robe, and his cunning eyes were filled with rage.

He hit her back, and everything went dark.

Chapter Ten

Iris awoke to a metallic taste of blood in her mouth and a ringing in her ears. By the feel of it, she’d been hit more than once in the head. And she realized with sudden horror that she’d likely been kicked in the abdomen once she fell. She reached down to her pelvis, fear rising in her throat. But she could, in the depth of her being, still felt the seed her mates had planted suspended there, waiting for the life spark.

But would it ever come? The Traoian senators were on their way to having the entire Trogarian council charged as intergalactic war criminals. What they’d done was, she realized, nothing less than a secret political coup. They’d waited until their principled, peaceful leaders were away building diplomatic alliances to set up the Trogarians in this way.

On the face of it, the plan was brilliant. Both the Odh and the Traoians looked like the victims of a known militaristic culture gone inexplicably off the rails. Iris sat up, holding her head. What, she wondered, could she possibly do to save her men, her baby, or the race she now considered her people?

“You’re awake.”

The sneering voice that addressed her came from behind, and Iris realized she was tethered by a collar to a post at the feet of the one being she despised more than anyone she’d ever known. She also realized the leather dress and boots she’d been wearing were gone, and that she was clad in a soft pink, nearly translucent gown that clung to her like a filmy skin.

“These are my private chambers,” he said as she looked around. The gaudy opulence reflected her captor well. Lavish furnishings of gleaming metal and cushions covered in plush fabrics were juxtaposed against what looked like ancient art and artifacts from other cultures. The heads of beasts Iris never could have imagined looked down from the walls. Birdlike creatures regarded her from cramped cages. One feathered creature with the head of what looked like a shrew gaped its mouth in mournful songs. Tiny hands on the ends of its wings gripped the bars of its cage in desolation. Iris looked away.