TICEES (38 page)

Korba did not bother to disrobe but simply released himself to her. He pulled her hips to the edge of the bed and knelt before her on the floor.

“But Ticees,” she groaned as he slipped into her tightness.

“Ticees be damned,” he whispered, his entries slow and tender.

Chelan reached for him and pulled him deeper. “Won’t he be angry?”

“Maybe. But he will at least know that my first concern is you and your happiness, and that he and his meetings are a distant second.”

Korba seized her breast in his mouth, and Chelan arched. She tried to get her wind. “He’ll punish you,” she protested.

Korba looked up at her, his eye on fire. “He will dare to do nothing to me when it concerns you. He will have to put his meetings on hold while I make love to you, and if he protests, he will lose his Overlord.”

Chelan went to speak again, but Korba interrupted her by leaning forward and seizing her lips, swallowing any further concerns she may have voiced. Then he straightened. “And you, my Lady, worry too much,” and he instantly withdrew from her depths. He gripped her thighs and pushed her legs back, spreading them wide as he buried his face into her slippery moistness, tantalizing her with his tongue till she could no longer speak.

Chelan writhed, her long fingers entangling within his thick mane. She was encased in ecstasy, and suddenly she no longer cared about Ticees. She was with Korba, and she was in heaven.

Korba engaged her for one deliciously slow hour. He knew very well that all would be present and all would be awaiting his tardy arrival. The timing would be perfect, and Ticees would feel the sting of his Warlord’s defiance. No one interfered with Chelan or his love for her, not even the Lord God Emperor himself, and that would be made blatantly clear.

Chelan lay quivering as Korba slid up alongside her. “I could spend all day here with you,” he breathed huskily as he nuzzled her neck.

Chelan edged off the bed and knelt on the floor before him as he sat up. She smiled at him as she found her way through the voluminous material of his shroud to his prominent erection. She lovingly stroked him with her tongue, cleaning him of all her cream. When she was satisfied with her labor of love, she looked up at him thorough hooded lashes. “We go now,” she whispered.

Korba grinned slyly at her, finally allowing his softness so that she could conceal him within his uniform. Then she stood, donning her gown and cloak. “Maybe you can deal with Ticees’ wrath, but I am not so capable.”

Korba stood and hugged her. “Thank you for the beautiful morning, my Lady.”

Chelan smiled and kissed him tenderly. “The pleasure was all mine, my Lord.” She took a moment to tame her disheveled hair, and then she was ready.

Korba nodded to the door, and they began their journey to the meeting room. The guards parted for them upon their arrival, and the large doors opened. Seven shrouded men turned and faced them directly.

Ticees stepped forward, looking at Chelan in her pink cloak, her beauty once again rendering him temporarily speechless. Then his eyes moved to Korba, and they cooled. “Good morning, my friend. You are late.”

Korba smiled and nodded to him. “I’m afraid it was unavoidable, Sire. My attention was demanded elsewhere.”

Fremma was beside himself with mirth. He had been watching Chelan the whole time, and he stepped forward, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “I bet it was unavoidable,” he chuckled, and Chelan pinked, confirming his suspicions. “Good morning, my Lady,” he greeted warmly, nodding to her. “Come, I’ll introduce you to some people.” Fremma smiled at Korba slyly as he took Chelan by the hand and led her toward the group of men.

Ticees kept his eyes on his Overlord but did not speak. Korba walked up to him and stared deeply into his eyes. “I hope we did not disrupt things too much?”

Ticees continued to glare at him as he worked his jaw. He spoke quietly. “No, you did not, my friend.” Ticees took a deep breath, Chelan’s now familiar sexual scent evident on Korba’s skin. “And your point is well taken.”

Korba stared at him with piercing azure eyes. “I knew it would be, my Lord,” he whispered.

Korba then looked up; Chelan’s and Fremma’s eyes were anxiously on him. He stepped around Ticees and walked over to the group, taking Chelan by the arm and turning her to them. “Okay, where is he?” demanded Korba lightly.

Toran stepped forward and nodded to Korba. Then Toran turned and faced Chelan as he withdrew his hood. “It is about time that this rogue allowed you out of his clutches, my Lady. It is indeed a pleasure to meet you.”

Chelan’s face blanched. Korba had not been kidding when he had said that Toran looked like him, and Chelan felt as though she was looking at a carbon copy of her mate. There were subtle differences, but Chelan was dumbstruck nonetheless.

Korba smiled and then looked past her to Roden. “Roden, my good man.”

“Commander,” nodded Roden warmly. He stepped up, withdrew his hood, and nodded to Chelan.

Chelan tore her eyes from Toran and smiled at the officer. “Roden,” she acknowledged. She bowed slightly, but then her eyes quickly returned to Toran.

Korba chuckled. “Toran and Roden. Let me formally introduce the Lady Chelan.”

Toran reached for her hand and kissed her gently. “My Lady, Dar has told me much about you, and I have anxiously awaited meeting you.” He hesitated as he glanced up at Korba. “And if I may be so bold,” he said, looking back at Chelan, “I can see why you have stolen the hearts of so many.”

Chelan curtsied demurely to him. “Thank you, my Lord,” she whispered.

Toran’s eyes opened wide, and he was beyond delight. She was so different, so feminine, and such a remarkable change from his own women.

Toran finally released her hand, and Chelan looked up into his warm azure eyes. Then she glanced at Korba. “I hope I never have to identify either of you accurately at any distance or in dim light. I’m afraid my mistake could be most embarrassing.”

Toran chuckled. “Don’t worry, Chelan. Any mistake such as that could only work to my advantage. And believe me, I would take no offense.”

The group chuckled, and Chelan smiled. She liked this Warlord, but then, she thought, she liked them all, and her eyes sought out Dar. She looked up at him, and he smiled warmly at her. Chelan felt her heart stumble. She had not seen him for such a long time, and she had missed the blonde Warlord desperately. His smile meant so much to her, and a calming warmth enveloped her.

Korba spoke. “Well, now that the formal greetings are out of the way, shall we take our seats?”

Ticees stepped up to them. “Yes, we need to get this underway. There’s a lot of material to cover, and after today, some important decisions are going to have to be made.”

Ticees headed for a large chair, and the group began to disperse to the various other chairs in the massive and luxurious room. Korba ushered Chelan to a plush lounge and sat her in it as he pulled his seat up next to her.

“To begin with,” began Ticees, “I know you all want to know why I have summoned you home. I know that most of you fear the worst, but it is actually quite the opposite. As you are aware by the small number of men in active duty right now, we are at a relative calm throughout the Empire. That situation is about to change. Your call home is meant partially as a time to touch home base with family and friends. But you will be far from idle.

“I know that you have all received Korba’s report on the Rigilean mission, and I have no doubts that ROPE has plenty more of the same out there somewhere for us. So, during this temporary calm, I want you all out stepping up our training program. There are lots of good men and women coming up through the ranks right now, thanks to the Breeders, and they need your guidance and encouragement, but most of all, your expertise. As I’ve mentioned to some earlier, this is the main reason you are here.

“Now, Toran and Roden have been out for four years, and Dar and Korba and the rest for three. So some of our new warriors, especially those who are destined to become officers, are in dire need of supreme role models, and they have never met any of our three best Warlords or their seconds. Now is the time for that.” A holographic display came to life in the center of the group, and Chelan’s eyes popped.

With the meeting officially commenced, Chelan listened with genuine interest as Ticees expounded on statistics, numbers, bloodlines, plans, and missions. But as time marched on she was became acutely aware of the cold. As usual, these men conducted their affairs in temperatures Chelan could only describe as frigid. She hugged herself under her cloak, hoping that she could simply survive the day, for she already knew she would be far from comfortable. But no matter what, she would endure it, unwilling to disturb or burden Korba with her plight.

She looked around the room at each man, their attentions riveted to Ticees, and she settled down in her seat. Here she was, by some absolutely bizarre twist of fate out of some strange science fiction novel, sitting in a room with eight of the galaxy’s most powerful men. The Emperor himself was speaking to a contingency of Warlords that ruled an empire Earth was not even remotely aware existed.

Chelan then smiled to herself, thinking of the men she had known on her home world. Most believed they were great simply because they kept in shape or drove fast cars. And then there were those like Jim, high up the corporate ladder, able to wield power and manipulate lives through the almighty dollar. He was a business icon that many wished to emulate, but in the grand scheme of things as she knew it now, Jim and all the other movers and the shakers of the world were insignificant. Utterly, completely insignificant.

Chelan shifted slightly and glanced around the room again, looking at each individual man, assessing them, studying them. On Earth, from the physical aspect alone, it had always seemed that the better looking a man was, the more arrogant and conceited he was, regardless of his true abilities. Codes of conduct, manners, empathy: those desirable characteristics seemed to have nothing on the power of vanity obtained at any cost. And because they often used their looks to get everything they wanted, including women, she had heard from her friends that they were usually lousy lovers, thinking of themselves first and their partners last.

But men did not hold complete dominion over this aspect of the human condition. Women were more than adept at using their looks to get whatever they wanted, and they often came by those looks using any means available. It was a two-way street for sure, one she never wanted to travel. There were much more important things in life, and the men in front of her understood that from day of their births. Fine genetics created their stunning good looks, but their society dictated the norms that governed their race, and they were raised with the same iron fist with which they ruled. Yet that fist was not without love and understanding, and its mete was never misdirected.

Chelan stared down at her hands as she thought about Jim and all other people who felt they reigned supreme over their little neck of the woods, from the world’s presidents and prime ministers to those who ran corporate America, right down to those of the seedy underworld, the drug lords, the street gangs, and worse.
Poor, misguided, lowly souls
, she mused to herself. In truth, Earth was overpopulated by a race engaged in nothing more than a perpetual, giant cockfight. And in the end, after all the feathers had flown, what would be left? Devastation. It was already happening, and by the time they all came to their senses, there would be nothing left worth fighting for. Earth was dying at the hands of those who claimed to know it all, the very powers that be; elected to help, destined to destroy.

Chelan looked up and sucked in a deep breath as she considered her new reality. Here sat eight men, each holding power beyond belief, each pursuing a deadly career for the good of the Empire, striving to unite the galaxy by removing the chaff from the grain where necessary. Yet they did this with a fairness and a code of ethics that gave no weight to individual pursuits for notoriety or personal gain. There were no conflicts between the Warlords, no attempt to outdo one another, and no hidden agendas. And though they rained down death and destruction upon their prey, it was never done without extensive deliberation after all avenues of diplomacy were extinguished. And that delivery of death was done with swift, potent efficiency. There were no games played, no prisoners taken, no survivors left to suffer, and no questionable tactics used. The enemy simply ceased to exist, the slate wiped clean.

Yet these same emissaries of death were just as capable of wielding another sword, one that pierced just as deep and just as effectively—that of the razor-sharp edge of passion. Each and every one of them had absolutely devastating looks with the body of a god to match, all of them tutored to be the galaxy’s most superbly trained lovers.

No wonder Earth was not worth their time or thought. It was filled with the genetically flawed, the mentally destitute, and often run by arrogant and power-hungry inferiors. Even the best did not dare to compare to the men before her. Religion ruled in the mindless masses instead of logic and good sense. Centuries of bloodshed in the name of countless gods, for absolutely ridiculous and hypocritical goals, still had not taught her world anything. Now Earth, in all its wisdom, was on the brink of nuclear destruction aggravated by rampant overpopulation and unchecked pollution, and somehow Chelan felt that it was warranted.

All diseases had to run their course. Some hosts survived, strengthened by the struggle, while some succumbed, fortifying the remaining survivors. The people of Earth were the disease inflicting the beautiful blue-white planet with oozing sores of pollution and overpopulation. Its skin festered with impudent and ongoing wars perpetrated by genetic aberrations that called themselves human. Chelan felt that her world’s death at the hands of those who infested it would only strengthen the Empire, thereby ridding it of one more sickly body.

She quivered at her uncharacteristically harsh thoughts, realizing that she was indeed becoming a part of her new world. Her heart belonged to Korba and his life goals, and to her, he was the Empire. He was the penicillin used to eradicate the diseases and to clear up the epidemics that threatened the galaxy. She was going to love being by his side, for she loved all that he stood for. And though she knew he represented Satan to most of her world’s ignorant masses, he represented cleanliness and holiness to her. He was cool and clear, his thoughts and actions logical and effective. He was not clouded by frivolous distractions or ungrounded beliefs, nor dictated to by the perceived rights held most often by those who deserved the rights the least. He analyzed each situation, balanced the alternatives, executed his plans, and cleaved the rot from the fruit. And he did his job with exacting precision. She knew that in their infinite wisdom, the people of the Empire worshiped no gods, but now, to Chelan, there existed a few where none had existed before, and she sat in a room with them all.