Dark Moon (19 page)

The elevator took them to Deck Two where they followed another corridor to what could have been the fitting room in an upscale department store.

Francine gestured toward one of the cubicles. “Go in and take off all your clothes.”

“Everything?”

“Yes, the costuming for the party is authentic. No modern underwear.

Emma nodded tightly. Inside the dressing room, she pulled off her sundress and hung it on a hanger. She had on no bra. After a moment’s hesitation, she took off her sandals, then pulled down her panties and stepped out of them.

Francine knocked on the door, then entered, holding a box full of clothing and taking an appraising look at Emma’s body.

“You have a good figure.”

“Thank you,” she answered, resisting the desire to fold her arms across her breasts.

“And it looks like you keep yourself in shape.”

“Yes. I jog. And rock climb.”

“Don’t neglect the weight machines. We have an excellent gym and trainers on the ship.”

“Okay.”

Francine handed her a garment. “It’s a tunic. It buttons up the front. And there’s a skirt.”

Emma slipped the tunic on, then the skirt, noting that the lower garment barely covered her naked ass. The neckline dipped low in front, skimming the tops of her breasts. Turquoise dyed feather epaulets decorated each shoulder. As she fastened the row of buttons down the front, she said, “The Maya wore these?”

“I wouldn’t know. I only get the costumes requested.”

“Right.”

The footwear was soft leather boots with rows of ruffles around the ankles.

Finally, Francine helped her attach a decorative headdress.

“You look lovely,” the woman approved.

Emma studied herself in the full-length mirror. “I feel like I’m going to a costume party.”

“You are. You’ll fit right in.”

“What do they do there?”

“It depends?”

“An orgy,” she asked, her chest tightening as she wondered how she’d get through something like that.

“Probably not.”

At least that was something.

oOo

They exited the dressing room into another hallway. “It’s two doors down on the right. Have a wonderful time.”

“Thanks.” With her heart in her throat, Emma walked toward the doorway. Beyond she could hear soft drumming and flute music, also people laughing and talking.

She pushed the door open and stepped into another world.

The room was large. The tropical greenery on two sides was similar to where they’d been earlier. But there the resemblance ended.

Blue light obscured the ceiling and gave the room an eerie cast. High walls of what looked like rough-cut stone enclosed the space. At the far end was a pyramid with primitive drawings carved into the stone.

The place had a strange, ancient quality, making her feel like she’d journeyed back in time. And the air was thick with the scent of incense or perhaps something stronger. Which wouldn’t be out of keeping with Mayan rituals she remembered from some of her reading in college.

About fifteen men and women were scattered around the area, all dressed in outfits similar to her own. Only the men had one-piece tunics, and the women had a top and skirt. Some men and women seemed to be couples. Others were alone and scanning the crowd.

“Welcome,” a man dressed like an ancient warrior and holding a spear intoned. “The ceremony will begin shortly.” He wore a bird-like mask, and his outfit was a bit more elaborate than the others, with a gold necklace and a jeweled belt.

She took a step forward, looking around anxiously for Cole but didn’t spot him. The atmosphere in the room made her nerves jangle. She sensed arousal. Anticipation. Excitement.

Oh Lord, suppose she and Cole were really separated for the day? Had he been sent to some other party by mistake—or on purpose. Or did his absence signify something worse?

She wanted to exit the room, but that wasn’t an option.

While she was debating what to do, a waiter, also in Mayan dress came around with a tray of ceramic cups.

To give herself something to do, she took one and murmured a thanks. One sip told her she wouldn’t be drinking much. It was potent, perhaps a rum punch that was mostly liquor. Or did it have something else in it—like what they’d given to Cole last night? She shuddered, hoping that wasn’t going to happen to her.

An uncomfortable feeling made her glance up to find a man eyeing her, his gaze lingering on her breasts and her hips before gliding upward to her face. He was tall, over six feet, and looked to be in his early fifties, with salt and pepper hair cut short. Smiling, he came toward her.

“Hello. I’m Dane.”

“Emma,” she answered.

“Your first time here?”

She moistened her lips before answering and knew he followed the movement of her tongue. “Yes.”

When he stepped closer, she took a small step back.

“Are you alone?”

She looked around. “My boyfriend is supposed to be here.”

“Maybe he changed his mind.”

“He wouldn’t do that,” she answered, praying she’d see him soon.

 The drumming and flute music swirled around her. The man stepped closer, putting a hand on her arm, stroking.

“I’m spoken for,” she said.

“We’ll see.”

She could coldcock him, but then she would be stepping completely out of character.

“That tunic looks wonderful on you,” he said, reaching out to stroke a hand against her breast.

She caught her breath, trying to back away and found that he was crowding her into a corner.

“Don’t.”

“You’ll find me a very good lover. If you accept my discipline.”

She tensed, caught between her need to escape and her need to maintain her cover. What if Del Conte was watching to see what she’d do?

She was saved from making a decision when a harsh voice said, “Sorry I’m late, sweetie,”

Relief washed over Emma. It was Cole.

“It’s all right. I just got here,” she said, knowing that if she told him what had happened, this guy was dog meat.

Dane must have come to a similar conclusion because he moved quickly away.

“What took you so long?” she asked, struggling to hold her voice steady.

“The first set of clothing Sidney brought me was too tight.”

She nodded, wondering if that had been on purpose so she’d have to start out here alone.

“Then when I didn’t see you, I went looking and found that guy had pushed you into a corner.”

“Yes.”

The drums and flutes suddenly stopped, and the whole room went silent.

Everybody was turning expectantly toward Emma’s right, and she looked to see two men dressed in feathered, flowing robes and huge headdresses step into the room. Between them was a slender blond young woman, her face a mixture of panic and excitement.

She was dressed in a white gown, a bit like one of those hotel bathrobes only much thinner so that her naked body showed through the fabric.

The priests led her across the room, through the crowd toward a narrow stone table Emma hadn’t seen earlier.

Everybody followed, making a circle around the table. Emma and Cole hung a little back. Whatever was going to happen, she didn’t want to see much of it.

“We are here to worship the ancient gods in the ways that have been handed down through the ages.”

“Yes,” the crowd answered.

“And one among us with grace and strength will be our offering.”

The priest looked at the woman. “We thank you for surrendering to the ancient gods. Do you give yourself freely?”

“Yes,” she murmured.

One of the priests handed her a cup, and she drank from it, grimacing a little before handing it back.

“We will begin. Take off your gown,” he said.

Her hands weren’t quite steady as she fumbled with the belt at her waist, untying it, then pulling the gown open and shrugging it off her shoulders so that it pooled around her ankles. She had narrow hips and big breasts, and her pubic hair had been shaved.

As she stood naked for a moment before the assembled men and women, a buzz of anticipation rose around the room.

“Climb onto the table and submit.”

She mounted a short set of steps to the horizontal surface and lay down with her arms at her sides. One of the priests pulled her hands above her head and fastened them to a metal ring. Her hips were near the end of the table, and the other priest spread her legs so that they were hanging over the sides, where small platforms supported her feet. When she was secured to the table, one of the priests stepped back, and the other began to murmur low, sensual words in a foreign language as he started to stroke her with a wand made of long feathers. He stroked her arms, her ribs, the sides of her breasts, and she stirred on the table, obviously aroused by the feathery touch.

He slid the feathers along the insides of her thighs, then came back to her breasts, drawing wide then increasingly narrow circles around her nipples, until the feathers were rubbing against the raised crests. Emma could hear her harsh breathing.

From the side of the table he picked up two metal clips, opening and closing them, clacking them together.

Then he took one of her nipples between his fingers, pulling and tugging on it before opening the metal and clipping it onto her breast, behind the nipple so that it stood up higher.

Lord, didn’t that hurt? Or was she accustomed to this kind of treatment?

She cried out as he played with the crest of the nipple before repeating the procedure with her other breast.

Both nipples stood up now, held by the clips, The first priest stepped back and the other moved to the end of the table, dipping his fingers in scented oil before playing with her genitals, pulling on her labia, making brief passes at her clit, thrusting one finger inside her and stroking slowly in and out of her vagina, making the woman on the table writhe.

Emma was horrified at the scene, yet she couldn’t stop herself from reacting. Watching the priests turn this woman on was turning her on, too.

The woman raised and lowered her hips in a frantic motion.

“Do you need sexual satisfaction?” the priest asked.

“Yes,” she gasped.

“It’s much too soon. Your satisfaction will be your offering to the gods. But you must be worthy to give it.” His partner played with her nipples again, brushing over the stiffened tips above the clips.

“Please,” she gasped. When she tried to rock her hips, he placed a hand on her thigh, holding her still as he played with the entrance to her vagina, circling his finger just inside the rim.

She moaned.

He picked up a curved ivory-colored rod from the side of the table, oiled it and held it up for the crowd to see. Turning back to the woman, he slipped it into her anus, stroking in and out.

“Jesus,” Cole swore.

He put his hand on Emma’s arm, pulling her away from the scene, leading her toward one of the stone walls.

She hadn’t noticed that there were wooden plank doors in the wall, but he opened one, leading her into a small bedroom.

He slammed the door behind them and gathered her into his arms, lowering his mouth to hers for a savage kiss.

After the tension of the night before, it was a release of all the emotions they’d been holding in check.

She clung to him, giving and taking.

Kissing wasn’t enough. She was ravenous for more. When one of his hands slid down to her hips, pulling her lower body against his enormous erection, she moved against him, frustrated that he was hitting her middle and not where she needed him.

With undisguised greed, he slipped his other hand between them and cupped one breast, taking the weight of it in his palm, and she knew she had been wanting him to touch her like that since the last time they’d made love.

As he stroked his thumb over the hardened tip, she heard herself make a low, pleading sound. When he tugged at her tunic, she helped him get it over her head. He tossed it away, then lowered his head, circling her nipple with his tongue before sucking it into his mouth and pulling on her strongly.

The sensations made her drunk with need. And she tried to tell him by arching into the caress.

 His kiss turned frantic as his hands moved over her body, pulling off her short shirt, stroking her hips, her arms, and back to her breasts.

Her hands were no less frantic as they worked at his tunic, dispatching it as he had dispatched hers until he was naked in her arms.

The feel of his skin against hers drove her almost to madness.

His hands slid down her back, over the curve of her bottom, pulling her against himself.

Reaching up, she pulled his head down to hers, kissing him with a passion born of need—and fear for the future. They were in a horrible place where anything could happen. They had an assignment to complete. And for a moment their mission intruded.