[The Onic Empire 03] - Sinful Harvest (16 page)

He told her to call him Tavarus, and she did, pleased at the way his name rolled from her lips.

Trailing his massive hands down her body, he spread them against her hips, holding her steady for him, yet he didn’t increase his rhythm. Caught up in the sensual movements, Ariss climaxed, lifting her hands up and back to wrap around his
neck. He growled with the sound of rock against rock and climaxed, filling her with a stream of molten lava that didn’t burn her, for she was living stone, too. As he released her, he whispered, “You will always belong to me.”

Ariss blinked her eyes open only to discover a guard before her with a shocked expression on his face as he backed away. Cock in hand, he scrambled backward, falling, and then rising hastily to his feet. Within moments, a group of acolytes stood before her, their faces slack with awe.

With a halting voice, one said something in a language she didn’t comprehend.

On the verge of demanding an explanation, Ariss looked down and realized the entire carved Onic statue that had been the darkest black, was now colorless. The lighting crystal of pure white that hung above shot bolts of brilliance clear through, then bounced back, lighting the room with shards of brightness.

Ariss sat in the center of it all.

K
errick had surfed swelling waves of flame protected by the thinnest membrane. He’d jumped off plunging precipices with only a small parachute strapped to his back. He’d even dodged a spinning blade-covered puck. But he’d never really been afraid. Not until now.

Bent over with his forehead pressed into the metal floor of the
gannett,
Kerrick discovered that his lungs were slowly filling with fluid, making it ever more difficult to breathe. His head pounded. Every muscle in his body protested from lack of movement. He had no idea how long he’d been here, because time ceased to have any meaning. The only good thing was that because of Sterlave and Chur’s interference, the recruits hadn’t been allowed unfettered access to his exposed and horribly vulnerable ass.

“You can simply walk away.”

Chur’s voice was soft, but his offer sounded almost like an accusation. Kerrick had always disappeared when things grew difficult. Three times he’d been forsworn to various women, but in each and every relationship, he’d let himself be caught
with another, so that his intended would reject him, demanding his departure.

Kerrick hated to admit the truth, but he knew the amazing coincidence of his chosen showing up at just the right moment, in just the right place, at just the right time to catch him with another woman was no accident. Always he exhibited shock and head-hanging shame, but in the back of his mind, he knew he’d carefully orchestrated his undoing so he could escape any responsibility.

The whole point of coming here and becoming the Harvester was to ultimately become the magistrate: a position with massive power and probably many nagging responsibilities, responsibilities that he could foist onto a subordinate. He could have all the prestige with little actual work. Mostly, Kerrick had wanted authority over his father. Even though he hadn’t seen him in ten seasons, his rejection still rankled. As the magistrate, Kerrick could make or break his father. But what once seemed so important to him, now seemed pathetically juvenile. For all he knew, his father was deceased, or had long since retired from importing and exporting goods to Diola.

This whole mess really started one drunken night on Isela Five, when he and several other velto players engaged in a game of one-worse. Each man tried to give a more horrific story of life with his father. When Kerrick relayed his tale of a father who basically ignored him, except to tell him how worthless he was, and what a disappointment he continued to be, the others laughed. They said his experience wasn’t that bad. Kerrick’s father was cruel, but at least he hadn’t beaten him. Or worse. Still, thinking of the past had stirred up long-buried memories of old hurts. That’s when Kerrick became determined to repay his father for all he
hadn’t
done for him. On a whim, he’d returned to Diola, a planet he swore never to set foot on again.

Several times, Kerrick had lamented that it was too late to turn back now, yet here was Chur, offering him the chance to
depart relatively unscathed. There would be no revenge on his father, but he wouldn’t have to live under the austere restrictions of his title, either. If he left now, Kerrick wouldn’t have to fight to the death in the challenge. He wouldn’t have to train into exhaustion. He wouldn’t have to suffer the trauma of withholding his climax for only once a cycle. Given his history of taking the easy path, Kerrick should leap at Chur’s offer, especially when he’d always acted without thinking.

What messed everything up was Ariss.

If he walked away, Kerrick could never touch her again. Worse, some other man, the one who became the next Harvester, would get to touch her, whether Ariss wanted him to or not. Kerrick didn’t want to leave her to another, or to Ambo, either. He wanted her for himself. If he left, he would never again know the feel of her welcoming body wrapped around his, or her cool gray eyes turning hot with desire. If he stayed, he had to accept the depth of responsibility. If he impregnated her, he must bond to her. In this instance, he couldn’t take pleasure without giving something of himself in return.

Gulping hard, struggling for each tiny sip of air, Kerrick realized he would have to make a commitment, something he had never done. His grandmother would be proud that finally he was truly considering the consequences of his actions.

“Are you going to answer me, or should I let the recruits in?” Chur’s tone held a hint of mockery, as if he already knew the decision Kerrick had arrived at.

“I can’t walk away.” Kerrick’s voice was harsh, almost strangled as he found it difficult to talk now. He would stay and finish what he started. If Ariss became pregnant, he would be the best bondmate to her that he could be. If she didn’t, he would … and that’s when his heart stopped. He thought he was staying to protect her, but to his shock, he discovered he didn’t want to leave her, regardless of the outcome. “What happens if I don’t get her pregnant?”

“You will face the challenge,” Chur said. “If you survive that, you can choose a mate from among the sacrifices, or remain the Harvester for as long as you wish.”

From bad to worse. If he didn’t get her pregnant, he couldn’t have her. “What if she chooses me?”

“She can’t,” Sterlave said. “As the Harvester, Ariss can only pick a free man within the palace walls. You are not free. Your position binds you to the ritual.”

Kerrick would have laughed if he had the breath. Finally, he found a woman he wanted, but he couldn’t have her unless he fulfilled some convoluted ancient prophecy. His grandmother must be laughing herself simple in
Jarasine.
Every woman he’d ever loved and left must be gleeful that he’d finally gotten his comeuppance.

Still, he had time to walk away. Kerrick stood at the crossroads of a momentous decision. Ariss stood at the head of one path and freedom stood at the other.

Pounding footsteps filled the room. When Chur and Sterlave didn’t instantly dismiss them, Kerrick knew the person who entered wasn’t a recruit.

“Release the Harvester.”

Kerrick held his breath, wondering what was happening now. He’d never officially answered Chur, but this, whatever it was, might give him another option he hadn’t yet considered.

“Under whose authority?” Sterlave asked, stepping toward the messenger, his feet crunching in the scattered seeds.

“By the gods, the Harvester has fulfilled her duty.”

Kerrick’s eyebrows rose. A smile tugged the edges of his lips wide. Ariss was pregnant with his child! He could not have been more pleased. In a way, he found the turn of events a relief, because now he had no choice. So what if technically they were forcing him to be her bondmate? He wanted her and she wanted him. The mechanics of the affair didn’t matter to him in the slightest. Ariss was his for a lifetime.

Kneeling near to release him from the
gannett,
Chur whispered, “It seems the choice has been made for you.”

For once, the thought that he couldn’t turn back now satisfied Kerrick deeply.

Cleaned, anointed, his body nude under a heavy brown robe, Kerrick stood at the entrance to the temple. Before him two acolytes, one male, one female, both dressed in white, parted the thick fabric drapes, ushering him inside.

Vibrating with fury, Kerrick entered. Blue light and clouds of smoke greeted him, making him cough and cover his mouth with the sleeve of his robe. Rushing to his side, a female acolyte pulled his hand away, lowering his arm as she smiled up at him. Her teeth glowed weirdly blue-white, causing him to tug his hand from hers. Oblivious to his distaste, she lifted her hand, showing him the path he should take. On the floor were scatterings of what he could only assume were white flower petals as they, too, glowed in the dark.

Stepping carefully around them, convinced that they were as drugged as the air, Kerrick followed the path until he came to a raised dais of white stone. Upon an elaborate throne carved of the same white stone sat Ariss. Golden light tumbled around her hair and danced across small gemstones along her cheeks. She wore a black robe with gold trim. One hand covered her belly, the other lay limply along the armrest. Kerrick wasn’t sure if it was the drugged air, but she appeared almost ethereal, her serene face calm and beatific. Her robe parted around her neck, exposing the stone necklace. No longer black, the
para-stone
was now clear, confirming her pregnancy.

The details of this he’d been told as he was prepared by his
paratanist.
Fana had been almost breathless as she rushed around him, making him dizzy with her frantic hurry to ready him for the bonding ceremony.

Bonding ceremony.
Kerrick gritted his teeth. This would not
be a typical bonding. Every time he wrapped his head around one duty, they switched paths and he had to take another. He most certainly didn’t want to go down this particular road.

Ariss’ eyes met his, her lids blinking with graceful slowness, as if she literally blessed him by giving him her attention. Sympathy lay within the cool gray depths, but such did little to chill his resentment. How ironic that he thought he was teaching her, when she taught him the biggest lesson of all, one he thought he already knew: Always look out for number one. He’d stuck around because he felt sorry for her, or that’s what he told himself now, anyway. The temptation to slap himself repeatedly was difficult to restrain, but he did, because breaking protocol in the temple would have him placed under the stone. In all honesty, he’d rather be alive than crushed to death.

Kerrick knew what he was supposed to do. He didn’t want to, but Fana said that if he didn’t, they would kill him, and another would take his place. That seemed to be their answer to everything: Do as we say or we will kill you. Unwilling to die just to escape the shame of his position, Kerrick dropped to his knees before Ariss.

Clenching his teeth to hold back an angry tirade, Kerrick unclasped his robe and slid the heavy weight off his shoulders. Cool air caressed him, peaking his nipples. Normally such a chill would shrivel his cock, but his
paratanist
had taken care of that, too.

Kneeling before Ariss nude, his cock hard and painfully sensitive because of some dreadful potion Fana had slathered all over it, Kerrick lowered his face, and snarled, “I have come to offer you tribute.” They told him what to say, but they couldn’t control the tone of his voice.

“What will you give me in tribute?” Ariss asked, her voice ringing through the temple in clear dulcet tones.

How about my cock in your mouth?
That’s what he wanted to give her, but he didn’t say it, no matter how deeply his pride
wanted him to say it. Damn it all to the nothingness, but he couldn’t even bear to look at her as he said, “I will give you my body, my soul, my life.” He drew a deep breath to bolster himself for the rest. No matter how shameful, he had to finish, because he’d cared too much about her to walk away. Worse, it truly was too late to turn back now. “I offer myself as your protector.” He lifted his chin, letting the light illuminate his face, but he looked at a spot just over her shoulder rather than into her eyes. “I will protect you through this life unto the next in
Jarasine.
”

With those words, Kerrick offered himself as her willing slave. They were not bonding as mates. This ceremony bonded him to her for eternity as her servant. Not her partner, her mate, or her lover, but as her lowly, worthless slave. He could never leave her, not even in death, for he would have to protect her in the great beyond as well. He could never know the touch of another woman, but she could have all the lovers she desired. Should he displease her, she could have him executed and replaced with another. In her slender hands, Ariss now held his very life. To call him resentful was to call the twin suns bright.

The acolytes called Ariss the chosen mate of Tavarus, the god of the Harvesters. The child she carried was considered Tavarus’. Kerrick knew in his heart that he was the child’s father. However, again, because of some convoluted ancient prophecy, he couldn’t do anything. Kerrick became Tavarus’ chosen lackey to watch over Ariss until she died and joined Tavarus in
Jarasine.

All this Fana told him with exuberant excitement. As a slave herself, Fana thought becoming one to the carrier of a god’s child was just about the highest honor possible. Kerrick didn’t share her enthusiasm, especially not when he discovered what he was expected to do.

“Are you willing?” Ariss asked, her voice pulling him back to the present.

Looking directly into her eyes, Kerrick frowned, and opened his mouth to berate her a fool, but he pressed his lips carefully together. One did not mock the gods, not even the chosen vessel of the gods, not if one expected to continue breathing.

“I am willing.” He impressed himself with the fact that his words sounded utterly believable even though he was lying right to her face. All he had to do was bide his time. Somehow, someday, there would come an opportunity for him to escape, and he would seize it without a second thought. Never again would he let concern for her sway his decision to look out for himself first. Just as the thought of fleeing from her gripped him, he knew he wouldn’t, not when she carried his child. He might resent her, but he knew deep down to the sticking place in his heart that he could never walk away from his own child. No matter what, he would endure anything to protect him or her.

Ariss stood.

White light blazed around her head as she stepped toward him, forcing him to tilt his face back because he refused to look away in shame. In her hand, she held what he dreaded most, but he didn’t move from his kneeling position. Leaning forward, Ariss kissed his forehead, her lips surprisingly cool against his flesh. With swift movements, she slipped the slender metal collar around his neck, locking it into place. It would be with him until the day he died.

She stepped back to admire him.

Kerrick gritted his teeth so hard he thought he heard them crack. At first, the collar felt cool around his neck, but the metal quickly heated to match his body’s temperature. It felt unbearably heavy. In reality, the thing probably weighed little, but the burden it placed on him felt inordinately cumbersome. His shoulders slumped. All his life he’d lived for excitement and danger, but because he wanted revenge on his father for no
very good reason, he’d become the possession of a demigod-dess.