"Hey, babe," the man with blue hair said to Ricki.
"Hey." Ricki pushed Del toward a chair and slid into another one. "How's the thorn kicking?"
"Here." Blue-hair offered her the stick. "Like your heels."
Del sat in the chair, wondering how they could speak English and say nothing he understood. Spiker smoke thickened the air, making him dizzy, and the drugged mood of all these glimmering people penetrated his mental shields. So much bare skin. In one corner, a man and woman swayed together, arms wrapped around each other as they unfastened their scanty clothes. Del blushed and looked away. Then he stared at Ricki and wondered if this place had any bedrooms.
"You look hungry," Ricki murmured. "Later, sweets."
"He is sweet, isn't he?" Blue-hair purred.
Del jerked around to stare at the man. "What?"
"Hands off," Ricki told Blue-hair. "No poaching." She took a long drag on the spiker, held it in, and then let glinting red smoke trickle past her red lips. It swirled around her and up to the ceiling. The mega-wealthy executive was ignoring them as he whispered in the ear of the other woman and caressed her breasts.
Ricki handed the spiker to Blue-hair and tilted her head at Del. "He's a farm boy. Del Arden."
Blue-hair leaned closer to Del. "Oh, Ricki dear, where did you find him?"
"Why don't you ask me?" Del said coldly. He didn't like the way the guy stared at Ricki. Or at him. He couldn't focus; he felt drilled without taking a single drag of the spiker.
Ricki wasn't paying attention; she was watching the dancers swaying. "Lot of heft tonight."
"The usual." Blue-hair regarded Del as if he were some exotic delicacy. "And then some."
Del stared at him, then swung around to the person who had dragged him into this crazy place. "Ricki—"
"Shhh." She put her hand on his arm. "You want a drink?"
"No." Del couldn't breathe. "I'm tired. Let's go."
Blue-hair offered him the spiker. "Here, relax, babe. It's top of the line, straight from the Antarian colony."
Babe? Del wanted to punch him, but instead his fingers closed around the spiker. Smoke curled past his face, adding a red cast to the scene. The executive was tugging the chains off the girl, and Del stared at her erect nipples.
"Here." Ricki pushed the spiker to his lips. "Just inhale. It will do the rest."
"No! I don't want—" Del choked as smoke poured into his mouth. He gulped involuntarily and breathed in a lungful. When he coughed, the spiker fell from his fingers.
"Hey!" Blue-hair grabbed the stick. "Tell your boy-toy to be careful with that."
"Don't call me that," Del snarled at him.
Ricki slid off her chair and tugged Del off his. The others at the table also got to their feet. The girl's chains slid down her body and pooled in a pile of jeweled gold on the floor. She stood there, sleek and perfect, wearing nothing but a few strategically placed jewels around her hips, her eyes so dilated, she almost had no irises.
"Come on, babe," Ricki murmured, pulling him by the hand.
Del went where she pulled, too muzzy to think. Blue-hair appeared at his side and put his arm around Del's shoulders.
"Hey!" Del shoved him away. "Drill off."
"He's an arrow," Ricki told Blue-hair. "They don't fly any straighter. You won't get this one."
"Too bad." Blue-hair went ahead of them to join the girl and the executive, who was walking on her other side with his arm around her shoulders. Blue-hair put his arm around her waist and kissed her ear.
"Ricki, let's go," Del said. His words echoed in his ears.
"Here." She set her finger on his lips. "Isn't this better?"
"What?" He looked around, his gaze blurred, trying to figure out what she meant. They were in a different room, one with dimly glowing walls and no other light. Or furniture. The thick carpet came over the toes of his boots. Pillows, glimmering sheets, and leather toys were strewn around. The executive pulled the chain-girl into a nest of cushions, and Blue-hair sat with them, still smoking his spiker.
Ricki nudged Del. "Come on."
"Ricki, no," Del said. "I don't do this." He wasn't even sure what exactly he didn't do, but he had no doubt that whatever it was, this room included a lot of it.
"You'll be fine," she said, her voice silken. She tugged him forward, and he stumbled, then went down on one knee next to the naked girl and the executive.
Blue-hair offered Del the spiker. "Takes the edge off."
Del tried to push away the man's hand, but he missed and fell against Ricki, who had knelt at his other side. They sprawled in a pile on the cushions, landing partially on top of the purple eye-shadow girl. Her breast rubbed Del's cheek, and before he even thought about it, he pulled her nipple into his mouth and suckled. So sweet.
The executive was lying against the girl's other side, but he stopped caressing her long enough to lean over and kiss Ricki. Lifting his head, Del scowled at the exec. He could barely see, and he couldn't think, except that he wanted Ricki out of her clothes, and if that rich asshole touched her again, Del would flatten his face.
By the time Del separated Ricki from her clingy tunic and tights, he wasn't wearing anything, either. She lay under him, the two of them nestled against the others. When she tried to pull him closer, he held her down by the shoulders.
"Patience, love," Del murmured.
She was breathing hard. "Kiss me, you sexy bastard."
A slow smile spread on his face. "You have to wait for it."
She stared up at him with those huge eyes as if she was an innocent, but with his shields weakened by his spiker high, he easily felt her mind. She was so turned on, she was close to an orgasm. Del flipped her onto her stomach and stretched out on top of her, biting her neck. Then he lifted her hips up and thrust into her from behind. She groaned and clenched the pillow under her, her pulse speeding up even more. She was building, higher, higher—and just as she was about to explode, he stopped, holding up her hips.
"No." She could barely get the word out, she was breathing so hard. "Don't do this to me again." She groaned and writhed in his hold. "I'll go crazy."
Del pinned her wrists to the floor while he slowly pulled out of her. "You shouldn't disappear in the morning. You didn't even leave a note. Now you have to pay."
"Stop teasing me."
"You're going to scream for it," he whispered against her ear. He pulled her arms over her head and held them trapped with one hand while he stroked her sides and breasts with his other, keeping her on the edge of an orgasm while she struggled. Then he slowly brought her down from her peak. When she had calmed a little, he entered her again, restarting the cycle, bringing her back up. He was aware of the other three making love, and their desire added to his own, their combined arousal drugging his mind as much as the spiker drugged his body. Ricki moaned under him, her mind a blur of frustrated, urgent hunger.
Del kept her that way, on and on, tormenting her with pleasure, until neither of them could take any more. He let go then, thrusting harder until she screamed with her climax. As ecstasy burst over him, his conscience reeled, but he was too far gone to care.
Del woke up alone. No, not alone; the purple eye-shadow girl was sleeping nearby. She looked lovely as long as he stayed still. When he moved, the room blurred and dimmed, and nausea surged in him. With a groan, he clambered to his feet, desperate to find a bathroom before he embarrassed himself.
The first door he stumbled through let him into an empty bedroom. He staggered across its green carpet into a bathroom. Dropping to his knees, he leaned over the washbasin and vomited his last meal. Then he flushed the basin and sat on his knees, shaking and chilled. He scared himself. Spikers didn't make people throw up.
When Del felt steadier, he went into the misting-stall and let the cleansing mists bathe him. He scoured his teeth, then dried off in the sumptuous hot air blasts. After that, he just stood, leaning his forehead against the tiled wall. He couldn't believe what he had done last ni
ght. Gods only knew what Ricki thought of him now. He hoped he had made love only to her. He thought so, but they had all been so entangled, he had lost track of who was touching him.
After a few minutes, when he felt steadier, he went back to the other room in search of his clothes. The girl was awake and sitting up. Del stopped, startled, especially now that he could see her in the morning light spilling through a high window. Black hair fell around her body, and her upward tilted eyes were unlike anything he had seen before. The purple on her eyelids was unsmudged, which made him wonder if it was permanent.
Del smiled. "Hello."
"Hi." She pulled a cushion over herself. "Who are you?"
"Del." He sat next to her. "Do you remember? I was here last night."
Her smile curved. "I would never forget you." She glanced around, looking as groggy as he felt. "Where are the others?"
"They left, I guess." Del was getting the feeling that Ricki's crowd had a hierarchy, and the people on the lowest rung ended up alone in the morning.
"Are you all right?" she asked. "You seemed tight last night."
"Yeah, I'm fine. I've just never been to a party like that."
The girl laughed softly. "I know. They get a little wild." She tilted her head, studying his face. "You're cute, you know." She let the cushion drop away from her body. "I don't think we've been formally introduced."
Del flushed. She sat there like a voluptuous goddess, alive and warm, and he wasn't even aware he had leaned forward until she drew him into a kiss. Then his brain caught up with his hormones, and he pulled away.
"I shouldn't," he said. "I came here with Ricki."
The girl pouted. "She left without you."
A familiar anger stabbed at him, but with less bite this morning. Maybe he was growing used to her vanishing act. Hell, he deserved it after the way he had treated her last night. Or maybe he was just too spiked-over to think straight.
"You're sweet and beautiful," he murmured. "But it wouldn't be right."
She blinked. "Why not?"
Wasn't it obvious? "I can't sleep with one woman at night and someone else the next morning."
"Of course you can." She stretched languorously, letting him look. "You can do whatever you want."
Del couldn't help but stare. So lovely. "If I was going to with anyone," he said softly, "it would be you."
She traced her finger down his cheek. "If you change your mind . . ."
Del kissed her. "You deserve better than me."
Then he stood up. With reluctance, he put on his clothes and headed out.
He just wished he knew how the blazes he would get home when he had no idea where he had spent the night.
Mac was setting up a meeting for one of his clients when his office AI appeared above his desk, the holo of a young woman with light brown hair.
"You have a visitor," she said. "Del Arden."
Finally! He couldn't believe Del had sent Cameron home last night and then disappeared. Mac hadn't stopped worrying. Now he was angry.
"Send him in," Mac said.
As soon as his wayward charge walked in, Mac wondered if Del had slept at all last night. He had dark rings under his eyes, and his shaggy mane of hair was tousled as if he had just woken up, though it was past noon.
Del slouched in a chair across the desk. "Hi."
"You look like shit," Mac said.
Del stared at a point of the desk somewhere to the right of Mac. "Long night."
Mac spoke sharply. "Look at me."
Del raised his startled gaze. "What?"
"Cameron is your bodyguard. We told your family we would protect you. You send him away again, I'll tan your royal hide."
Del's face tightened. "Drill it, Mac. If I want to go without a bodyguard, I'll do it."
"Fine. Great. Just great. You have fun last night?"
"As a matter of fact, yes." Del was looking at the random point on the desk again.
"You sound as convincing as a mesh dealer trying to sell broken consoles," Mac said.
Del just shook his head. So Mac waited.
After a moment, Del looked up. "Maybe I got a little carried away."
A headache throbbed in Mac's temples. "I'm afraid to ask."
"With Ricki. I . . ." Del reddened. "Uh."
"You stuttered at her?" Mac couldn't help but smile. Del looked like a naughty boy. "That sounds drastic."
Del glared at him. But it provoked him into describing his night. When he finished, he said, "The concierge at the hotel got me a fly-taxi, and it took me here."
Mac's headache was getting worse. "You were certainly busy."
"Well, you know." Del pulled at his ear.
"How did you pay your taxi fare?"
The youth shifted in his seat. "Like with the, um, doctor's bill."
"We need to talk about that." Mac had set up an account for Del and was paying his expenses, but if the prince wasn't careful, he would run through his advance from Prime-Nova long before he saw any more income.
"I think Ricki's upset at me," Del said.
"Maybe I'm dense," Mac said, "but the last time I checked, 'Kiss me, you sexy bastard' was hardly the cry of a distressed damsel." He was angrier at her than at Del. "She's the one who should feel guilty. You kept saying you wanted to leave the party. So what do they do? Smash you on spikers and push you into group sex. Real charming."
Del's lips quirked upward. "It was tough. But I survived."
"Oh, quit smirking," Mac said. "Why did you throw up? I've heard of people passing out from spikers, but never vomiting. This after your 'friends' stranded you with some girl you don't know from slam in the wall. What if you'd had a worse reaction?" He let out an explosive breath. "It scares the blazes out of me."
"I can't go through life being afraid." Del pushed up to his feet and strode away, then spun around. "I'd rather not live than be trapped in a glass palace, looking at the world but never touching it. It's my decision to make." Then Del added, "Trying new experiences is good for a person." He even said it with a straight face. Almost. Then he grinned.
Mac wondered what he was going to do with this misbehaved prince. "Just be careful, all right. Taking control of your life and taking unnecessary risks are two different things. You do this playboy thing too hard, you could burn yourself out."
"Playboy?" Del's grin vanished like spit in the wind. "I am not her 'boy-toy.' "
It took Mac a moment to figure out what he meant. Then he smiled. "I never noticed that. The words do sound the same. But they mean different things." He thought for a moment. "Playboy is like jizzora in Skolian. Except playboy refers to a man rather than a woman."
Del bristled. "You're saying I'm a rich man who doesn't work and devotes himself to a life of pleasure without commitments or responsibilities?" After a moment, he said, "Okay, maybe that described me once. But not anymore. The past few years, I've mostly been doing the father thing and farming."
The father thing. Mac sometimes forgot how much that had meant to Del. "Do you miss your nephews?"
"Always." Del spoke awkwardly. "They're better off without me."
"Why do you say that?"
Del shrugged, his gaze sliding around the room. "You have a lot of expensive stuff here."
Mac glanced at the synth-crystal shelves full of gold, silver, or crystal vid cubes. "When one of my clients has a success, sometimes they give me a keepsake to celebrate."
"Oh."
"Del."
The prince looked at him. "Yes?"
"The playboy thing—is that why they didn't betroth you to the Majda Matriarch? Devon, I mean."
Del stiffened. "It's none of your damn business."
Mac waited.
After a moment, Del said, "Yeah, she asked for my younger brother."
It suddenly seemed very quiet to Mac. My younger brother. As far as any of them knew, Del was by far the youngest. "Was it Shannon? Or Verne?"
Del gave him a strange look. "Who is Verne?"
"Your brother with the doctorate in agriculture."
Del laughed. "His name has an 'l,' not an 'n.' But yeah, she asked for Vyrl. He was the perfect match. He never messed around with anyone. Except you know what? He had been in love with this girl Lily practically since they were born. When they told him about the betrothal, he and Lily ran off and got married. Here they all thought I was the messed-up one, but it was Vyrl who screwed up their plans."
Mac stared at him. It couldn't be. He and Fitz couldn't be right. He spoke in a slow voice. "Vyrl is a great-grandfather."
Del's smile faded as he realized what he had said. For a moment he just looked at Mac. Then he walked to a window in the far wall. He stood staring out at the sky, silhouetted against the blue expanse with its streamers of clouds.
"If Havyrl Valdoria is your younger brother," Mac said, "you had to have been born at least seventy years ago."
Del spoke dully. "Seventy-one."
"What happened?"
"I told you." He turned around. "I was in a cryogenic womb."
"For forty-five years?"
"Yes," he said flatly. "For forty-five years."
"The technology to do that didn't exist that long ago."
"That's right." He spoke in clipped sentences, as if he were another person separate from what he was describing. "It was a race. Could they advance the tech fast enough before my current womb decayed? They couldn't revive me until science advanced enough to keep me alive, but if they kept me in too long, the cryo would fail." He took a shaky breath. "I balanced on that edge for nearly half a century."
"Good Lord," Mac said. "It's a miracle you survived."
Del lifted his hands, then dropped them. "Do you know what it's like to wake up and not remember how to talk? To walk? To count or laugh or say your name? To discover everyone you know has lived decades while no time went by for you?" His voice cracked. "I had to relearn almost everything. But I could still sing. It's what kept me going."
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