True Believers (11 page)

Jessit rubbed the back of his neck, his body still slick from the oil. His mouth tasted as if he'd swallowed old underwear, and he smacked his lips to try to ward off the tang. “Get me back on board ship. I need to contact the Emperor. Something happened last night.”

“El'asai should see you first.”

Jessit stumbled to his feet. “Don't argue with me. The gods are in danger!”

Senit eyed him with suspicion. “That's exactly what the high priest said. He was performing the
d'rema
ceremony in the open desert. He claims Lord Gilgamesh came to him and ordered—”

“He ordered the com-web destroyed,” Jessit said, finishing Senit's sentence. He rubbed his temples. This headache was going to last all day. “Help me up. I need to talk to the Emperor. The son of Anu has committed us to a test of faith. If we fail him…” Jessit stared into Senit's worried face. “Get my woman on board ship. I don't think she's safe down here anymore. I don't think any of us are.”

Rachel was grinding her teeth down to the gums when Denman showed up in her room. In his hands were a folded bleach-white dress and a pair of tatty brown leather sandals piled on top. He handed them to her like an offering and when she refused to take them, he tossed them down on her bed.

She glared at him, hurling the dress and sandals across the room in a final act of defiance. Where the hell was Gilgamesh? He needed to rein in this mule. “You're insane. I'm not bedding with any man.”

“You'll bed with this one, or you and your family will never see daylight again.”

Denman grabbed her by the hand and twisted it, forcing her to sit down at the edge of the bed. He sat down next to her, the additional weight on the mattress rolling her body toward him.

“You are here at the discretion of a top-secret agency.” He kneaded each of her fingers as if trying to decide which one to break first. “I do hope you'll cooperate.”

“You're asking me to be his whore.”

Denman's face was void of expression. “I'm not asking, Dr. Cruz.”

The man left no room for negotiation.

Denman got up and retrieved the dress and shoes, dumping them on her lap. “Get dressed, or I'll have someone do it for you.”

Rachel looked down at the bundle on her lap, fingering the hem of the coarse pallid dress, her eyes half-closed. She wanted to tell him who she was, what she was, hoping it would make a difference to him. But it was irrelevant. A mule wouldn't understand the birthright he inherited. He was more likely to kill her now if he knew the truth. She had to get out of here, and right now the only way to do that was through that horrid little dress.

“How long do I have to stay with him?”

The palm of his hand slid up her cheek, making her feel unclean. “As long as he wants you, my dear. As long as you please him.”

Denman left. She had a few scant hours of relative freedom before they delivered her to a shuttle where someone on Jessit's team would escort her the rest of the way. Rachel considered escape. But what would happen to Paul if they found him before she did?

Damn Taelen Jessit.
Why would he do this to her? When he promised to take her away from here, he said nothing about becoming his concubine.

She thought she meant something to him. She thought…

Oh, what difference did it make what she thought? She was wrong. He was using her. Maybe it was even payback for all the hell he went through in the desert.

And now she needed him. Needed him to save Paul, and save herself from these madmen. If Gilgamesh was right, she'd need Jessit's help to destroy the com-web too.

Rachel groaned. How did she ever become so dependent on one mortal? And did it have to be this one? It was humiliating!

But when she looked around her cage she realized she'd rather be imprisoned by Jessit than Denman. Contemptible as Jessit was, at least he never threatened to kill her. Denman, on the other hand, seemed to be looking forward to the experience.

Rachel slipped off her oversized smock shirt and the drawstring pants, kicking them out of the way. She picked up the white cotton sundress and pressed the overstarched fabric against her nude body.

The dress was hideous, with an elasticized top and a skirt that flared out to her ankles. Long, thin spaghetti straps dated the dress as a reject straight out of the nineteen-eighties. And it was huge. The owner must have been a giant—a giant with no fashion sense.

Rachel unzipped it, the long crooked zipper going all the way down to her butt. She put it on, swallowed by all that fabric. It was like wearing a tent.

Her naked feet slapped on the hard tile floor and stopped before a full-length mirror. The view was worse than she expected. The dress nearly reached her feet and had it not been for the stretchy top, it would have slipped off her body without any help at all. How was she expected to impress a man with this?

Rachel straightened the seams on the dress, the limp straps falling helplessly. She brushed her hair back, staring at a woman she no longer recognized. The man had gills, and webbing, and eyes that shimmered like iridescent emeralds. Was sex between them even possible?

Denman said it was, describing in all too vivid detail, complete with pictures of a naked Alturian. He went so far as coaching her on how to respond to Jessit's advances. She didn't want to ask where he got his information. It seemed Jessit had been offered others, lots of others. And now it was her turn in his bed.

Part of her was hurt that she had meant nothing to him all along, but another part of her was angry. Both emotions were tempered with the sobering reality of her predicament. She had to please Jessit. It was the only way to keep this body alive until Gilgamesh arrived.

Jessit repeated every detail of his vision to the high priest Kalya before he sent his report to the Emperor. He knew the royals couldn't care less about a
menze
-induced vision, but they couldn't disregard it without more scrutiny. Visions were rare, and lying about one carried severe punishment. If he had been anyone else, Jessit might have been suspect, but he had led a long and distinguished career. And Kalya himself corroborated the vision with one of his own. Anu's firstborn, Gilgamesh, had come to him, as well. The Imperial house had to respond this time.

So they waited, with Kalya asking the same questions over and over again. Jessit suspected the old priest seethed with jealousy. It seemed inconceivable that a Son of Anu would show himself to anyone in the military. Jessit was known for his piety but not when it interfered with the business of war. It smacked against Kalya's delicate sensitivities.

Kalya started another round of questions when Senit entered the conference room. He bowed his head to Jessit but ignored the old man altogether. Senit served Jessit alone and hated the priest, ignoring him on purpose.

Kalya cupped a handful of the stone beads that hung around his neck and rattled them loudly. Senit, as usual, struck a nerve.

“We are busy, secretary. Come back later,” Kalya growled officiously.

Senit turned away from Kalya and faced Jessit, pretending the old man was invisible.

“Forgive the interruption, sir, but you did say you wanted your woman brought on board.”

Jessit felt a smile creep to his lips. “Is she here?”

“Not yet. I am going down to get her now. Is there any message you want me to convey to General Sorinsen while I'm there?”

Jessit glanced back at Kalya. There was nothing he could say to Sorinsen until he heard back from Command.

The com-web had to come down, and he knew the humans wouldn't dismantle it without encouragement. But what was he missing? How did it insult the gods? Kalya didn't know, and he didn't ask. His only task was to obey.

Gilgamesh had been adamant. He demanded their obedience, their promise. But how could Jessit promise to take down something he couldn't find? He had to wait for further orders. Until then they would limit their visits to Earth.

“Get her on board. And if anyone asks you why we are interrupting our search for the gods, tell them we are recalibrating our sensors.”

“Understood, sir.”

Before Senit left, a messenger from the communications bay came in and hand-delivered an encrypted message.

The seal on the slender message bar told him it was from the Emperor. He slid it into the reader but kept the message on visual alone. He wanted to read it first.

His shoulders slackened and he took a deep breath before facing Kalya and Senit.

“Well?” Kalya said expectantly. “What does it say?”

Jessit pulled the bar out of the reader and slipped it into his pocket. “The Emperor wishes us to remain on good terms with the Terrans. The armada is at best six days away. We wait and we watch. I anticipated as much. There's not much damage an ambassadorial ship can do against an entire planet's arsenal, even if that planet does have primitive weapons.”

“But His Holiness has demanded—”

“We wait, Kayla. Those are my orders. I will not plunge this vessel into harm's way with no critical means at our disposal.”

The old man bellowed like a tangled cow. “I will speak to Lord Avenar himself. The Holy Master will make the Emperor see reason.” He marched out, his fists beating the sky.

Senit sidled up closer to Jessit. “Do you really think he's going to talk to the High Lord? Avenar doesn't usually muddy himself with Imperial matters.”

“By the time Kalya gets a reply, the armada will already be here. The old man is working himself up for nothing.” Jessit pulled out the message bar from his pocket and rubbed it between his fingers. “Get Rachel up here. The Emperor is going to use the visions as his catalyst for war. He wants Earth, and Gilgamesh just gave him the perfect reason to start one.”

Senit steepled his hands in front of him. “Why do I get the feeling this was going to happen with or without divine intervention?”

Jessit tugged on the hem of his tunic and adjusted the sash on his waist. “Don't ask questions I can't answer, Senit. I have my orders.” He pointed to the door. “And so do you.”

Despite the circumstances, Rachel was excited to see the Earth from orbit, even if the destination meant the temporary loss of her freedom. She had to remember that. This mess was transitory. Gilgamesh would make things right when he arrived. She had to be patient.

Her father often preached patience even though he himself was not a very tolerant man. But she was a child compared to most of her kin. She didn't yet know what it meant to live thousands of years, to see civilizations rise and fall, to witness entire species go extinct.

The Alturian Empire would be dust long before she showed the least amount of age. Mortals were like fireflies in the breeze. All she had to do was outlast them. The others in her clan had long honed that patience, but she had no such skill. Well, it seemed she was about to learn some.

Even her journey to the
Malyan
was disappointing. She expected to see a real starship, or at least the blackness of outer space, but the shuttle ride was as inspiring as a subway exchange in Manhattan. Dark, noisy and crowded with Alturian soldiers, every single window on the shuttle frosted to a silvery haze blanketing the outside from view. She was glad this would be a short trip.

Jessit's aide, her escort, was familiar to her. He too was from the cave where she first saw Jessit. He didn't grace her with a second glance, preferring instead to study some gizmo that kept clicking at him, similar to the one she had seen the Alturians use in the cave. Disgusted, he finally turned it off and sat back in his chair with his eyes closed.

Once they docked, he rushed her to Jessit's quarters then helped her with an earpiece that served as a translation device before shoving her through a doorway and into a bedroom decorated in warm, muted colors. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of the sumptuous bed, big enough for four.

Jessit stepped out of another doorway and watched her with quiet scrutiny before shifting his attention to his aide. Senit walked over to him and spoke to him about calibrating a machine that was giving them trouble, but Jessit seemed disinterested.

A pretty servant who had been fluffing the heavy drapes of the bed's canopy whisked by Rachel and sprinted over to Jessit. She bowed with timid reverence to him first and then Senit, her silver gossamer dress flowing over her body like a feather's embrace. She tiptoed out on hurried feet, a subtle whiff of perfume trailing in her wake.

Rachel wasn't sure if the humidity on board had been elevated or if it was her apparent discomfort at the situation. A thin trickle of sweat channeled down her throat. Unlike the waif-like nymph, Rachel smelled more like old dry-cleaning.

Jessit glanced in her direction again. He didn't look pleased.

Rachel looked down at her hands, absently kneading a sweaty wad of fabric from her skirt. For once she couldn't blame him. She looked hideous.

The butterflies in her stomach surged into a swarm. She was out of her element and out of allies here. And worse yet, she was trapped with a man who looked both disappointed and annoyed.

Jessit stood at a curtained doorway, thick velvet brown drapes hiding a private sanctuary. The jewel and the braid in his hair were gone, and he looked naked without them. She stumbled back by one pace, realizing too late she had been staring. He looked bigger now, more menacing, but she also couldn't deny the tug of desire. She had missed his gruff arrogant manner—and his gentleness. She wished things had turned out differently between them.

She wanted to be angry with him and perhaps she should have been. But she felt safer here, even if it was against her will. It would've been nice to continue the playful banter they enjoyed, though in hindsight perhaps the banter was what led to her predicament. Had she insulted him? Was this a means of retaliation?

Damn it, Gilgamesh. Where are you?

In a borrowed sundress two sizes too big, Rachel suffered the humiliation of a long measured stare. The shoulder straps slipped one after another until she just let them lie there.

Jessit smiled; a careless swish of a hand ordered Senit out without even looking at him. He strode over to her casually, sizing her up like so much baggage. “I told you I would find a way to bring you here.”

Rachel glared at him. “You didn't tell me it would be as your concubine.” She forced her hands to release the dampened wad of fabric from her skirt.

“There are many who would welcome such an invitation.”

“Well, I'm not one of them. How dare you—” She stopped in midsentence. What was she doing? She had to submit. Not for herself, but for her human parents, and for Paul. She'd not endanger them on her account. She took a deep breath. “I'm…sorry.”

He tilted his head as if he didn't understand. “Sorry?”

“I mean…I'm grateful you got me out of that military compound.”

He grinned at her. “How grateful?”

“What do you mean?”

“You owe me a lord's wish. Remember?” Jessit bent over her, whispering the words into her naked ear, and pulled the translator out from the other one. He tossed it on the floor.

Rachel shivered as the rough purr of his voice tickled the nape of her neck. She pulled away and faced him. “I thought you were kidding about that.”

“I was not. You are here to pay a debt.”

Rachel swallowed the curse she nearly lobbed. “It was your choice to pull me out of the floodwaters. I don't see how I owe you anything.”

“Then why are you here?”

A moment's hesitation shattered her confidence. “You negotiated for me.”
Bastard.

His eyes seemed to dance in revelry. “So I did.” He strolled around her, an inquisitive finger tracing the outline of her bare shoulder. “No doubt your government explained what was expected of you.”

She huffed at him. “If you think I'm just going to bend over and—”

“And?” He smiled, a mischievous quirk to his mouth.

“Don't flatter yourself, Commander.” She drew toward him, getting up on her tiptoes trying to face him eye to eye. “I'm not afraid of you.”

He laughed.
Laughed!
His brass riled her up in more ways than she could count. “We shall see.” He shook his head. “The least they could have done was dress you like a woman. This is no better than the rags I saw you in last.”

“This wasn't my idea.”

“No,” he said flatly. “It was mine.” He circled her once more and sighed in dissatisfaction. “Perhaps it was a mistake. I have seen better-looking women in the cast-off rack of a low-rent brothel.” He stalked away from her unimpressed, once again returning toward the curtained room he'd entered from.

Rachel's mouth dropped. Her face felt like she had stuck it in a furnace. She looked around for something to throw at him. She snatched a small tray from the night table but put it
down in favor of an odd-looking band of silver, solid and heavy. She gulped when she realized what it was. The servant who had just left was wearing one around her throat. She tossed it on the bed. Lack of options left her no choice; she chased after Jessit, pulling at his arm and yanking him back to face her. “Don't you walk away from me!”

He turned and stared at her for a moment, a hint of amusement on his face before he masked it once again with indifference. “You were trouble from the moment we met.” He unhooked himself from her grasp and parted the drapes, leaving her behind.

Rachel followed, fumbling under the heavy fabric of the curtains as she twisted and turned within them, not really knowing which way was out. The drapery panels tangled around her hair and skirt, wrapping her within the folds like a fool on a new stage. She thought she'd suffocate until a firm hand dragged her in.

Rachel pulled the hair off her eyes and out of her mouth. The butterflies in her stomach now lodged in her knees. Her body quivered as she became aware of this moist shadowy world. In front of her, a cascade of water pattered down a tumbled rock wall and fell into a matching stone basin at least six feet wide. The waters bubbled into a steamy pool and live plants hung from crevices and crags. Candles of every size hung at varying levels, making it appear like distant starlight in the mist.

Rachel took one step and then another, unsure if this was real. Jessit held her hand, watching her, studying her.

“What is this place?” She said it in a whisper, afraid to break the spell of the sanctuary.

“My bath. I knew I would be on this mission a long time so I had this fashioned for me.” He pulled her closer to him; she smelled his musk blending with the swirling steam from his bath. He was at home.

Jessit rubbed his nose down her face, smelling her, tasting her with his tongue. She gasped when he reached the nape of her neck and found herself falling into him. He smelled of lavender and something else, warm and woodsy. His broad arms cradled her, making her feel safe yet his very touch warned of a danger she wouldn't avoid even if she could.

“'A lord's wish', Rachel. I want the words from your lips.”

“Why do you need them?” she stammered. “My government gave me to you.” It hurt to say that. The primal part of her wanted him, but she had hoped for far different circumstances. Her hand slid across her throat, remembering the silver collar in the next room.

“Let me hear the words.”

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

He pulled away, looking at her with expectation, and when she didn't speak right away, he nuzzled her once more and chuckled.

“Have I not earned enough scars on your account?” Jessit smiled, a tender smile without malice or intent. The man she remembered was still here.

Rachel thought her heart had lurched up into her throat because it took several swallows to make a sound again. She nodded consent, unsure at first, her head bobbing at an awkward angle. “A lord's wish.” She repeated. “What do you want?”

Skilled fingers tickled her flesh as they glided down her arms and to her waist, pulling her toward him. The patter of the water seemed a thousand miles away because all she could hear was the soft velvet of his voice. “I want you.”

Jessit's face looked serious, focused and flushed with color. It was the color of sex, dark and animal-like. It was the color of need.

Was it painted on her face too? Her
na'hala
pushed against her, demanding to be free. Demanding to touch him.
Union,
it told her.
Give us union.

Thick hands reached for her back and she felt the slight tug of the zipper ticker down. He lingered over it, one hand on the zipper, the other around her waist, towing it down slowly, gently until she couldn't stand it anymore.

Rachel's breaths came in short gasps when she leaned into him, willing him to go faster, begging him to get her naked. He tortured her a little longer.

Her hands grazed his thick muscular arms. Little nicks and scars adorned his flesh. Her fingers traced each one with gentle caresses. Some of those scars were her doing. She laid her head on his chest, letting him finish this torment.

One firm hand slipped underneath the fabric of her dress and she felt a rush of heat tunnel through her body. He slid his hand down the small of her back and then around her waist, loosening the dress away from her body. With one gentle tug, he let the dress fall to the ground, a puddle of fabric. Rachel slipped out of her sandals and took two steps back.

***

The woman looked radiant. Her pouty wine lips and the soft blush of her cheeks revealed hesitancy and fear, yet something more. Jessit hoped it was desire. He didn't want to stare. She wasn't the first human woman he'd seen naked, but this was different. She was different, though he couldn't say how.

Her body was the same even color all over, her skin like silk, and as dewy as early morning. Breasts the size to drive a man mad, and when she shuddered, marked timidity at her nakedness, it made her brown nipples bloom to hard rosy peaks. She was beautiful. She was his. And his erection ached from sweet torture.

Jessit unfastened his robe and let it fall to the floor.

He couldn't remember if he had ever been this hard before, but he sensed that at least she seemed impressed. Her eyes grew wide when she stared down at his penis, hard, throbbing and at attention, while his penile tendrils stroked him in anticipation. He reached out to her and she walked toward him, letting his other hand drape around her waist, pressing the cool sweat of her belly against his erection.

She smelled like spring, the first day of spring when everything around was fresh and new. It made him feel young too, reminding him of the boy he was. Jessit picked her up, folding her into his arms, and carried her into the bathing pool. She stiffened at first, fearful eyes staring up at him for reassurance, but he held her tight and shushed her. “Trust me,” he whispered.

He stepped in first before lowering her into the pool gently. The soft swirling waters rippled across her breasts, liquid hands caressing her flesh. He thought he'd burst before consummating his lust. His gills mouthed open, welcoming the intoxicating eddies of mist and water.

She pressed up against him, licking his left gill with her tongue. Hot, wet ripples of tongue-swirls scoured the edges of his gill, rimming it around and around until he thought he would explode.

The candles flickered wildly but he didn't care to figure out why. Lightheaded from stimulation, he sucked in a sharp breath and fell into her, taking her into his arms and pushing her against the smooth side of the grotto. One leg wrapped around hers, and he felt his penile tendrils shock to duty when they sensed imminent penetration. They reached out for her, long
muscled strands of flesh surrounding his thickened organ as they flailed blindly for her orifice, shallow suction pads grasping at her skin, pushing, pulling and opening her for him.

Jessit's swollen penis touched her vaginal lips lightly, experimentally, and then with promise. His muscles tensed, and he surged forward, reckless with desire, single-minded with intent. He felt her body stiffen, rigid with anticipation. Her eyes looked anxious yet eager. She let out a breath, submitting her hungry mouth to his.

A thunderous crash in the outer room broke his concentration. Gods help him, he was going to rend whoever that was.