by Autumn Dawn
Grateful to have the morning ritual over with, she waved to the harem on the view screen and turned it off until Kelsa could find a private terminal. She figured the communal juice drinking would make the medicine go down easier, and so far she'd been right. Thanks to a sense of humor she'd fostered about it, they now took it as a rite of passage unique to women, one of those bonding rituals that men could never share, like PMS and childbirth. Of course, so far none of the men were complaining about being left out.
Kelsa's signal flashed on the console and Vana turned on the view screen. Unusually serious, she studied Vana's face. “Have they found out who gave you the virus yet? I think Kynan knows more than he's telling me."
Averting her eyes, for Vana had been warned not to discuss it, especially over the public terminal, she gave the stock answer. “They think it was someone from Nikon's side."
"Uh huh.” Kelsa's brow rose. “I think I have a better idea who it might be.” Smart enough not to say more, she merely watched Vana for clues. “Are they going to get the death penalty? Attempted murder seems intense enough to warrant at least that."
Vana sucked in her cheeks and fiddled with her water glass. “It's not up to me. As the injured party, I'm not likely to be called as an impartial judge."
"What about Dagon? Will he have a say?"
"It's up to the council this time."
"Is the suspect at least under guard?"
"It's being handled, Kelsa. We don't have enough evidence yet to make a formal accusation. You'll know as soon as everything goes public.” It wasn't a blessing to know the details of the case, not when Dagon's mother was the prime suspect.
Dagon hadn't been surprised at where the direction of the evidence was going. No one knew Ellyn's moods better, and he'd known that Ellyn wouldn't take Vana's public insult at the adoption ceremony lightly. She held a grudge forever, and while she could act in the best interests of their people—helping the women to settle in, initially helping to make Vana queen—she put her personal interests ahead of any political or philanthropic instincts. Her many public indiscretions were just a sample of her willfulness, and she wouldn't hesitate to ruin Vana's life, uncaring of what it did to Dagon and their people.
Bringing her to trial would be touchy. Dagon was determined to see her punished to the full extent of the law, but their society was staunchly conservative. He judged the odds of his council rendering a strong punishment as slim. It would help that women were no longer so scarce, but Ellyn was a former queen and a revered matriarch. It wasn't going to be easy to overcome their protective instincts.
"You can't let her get away with it,” Kelsa said softly, voicing Vana's thoughts. “She tried to kill your baby."
Vana took a deep breath. “Let it wait. Hot headed justice is no justice. She's going to get what's coming to her.... Dagon will never rest until this is taken care of."
Sadly, she wondered if Dagon would ever be able to rest afterward, either.
* * * *
"Lighten up, Dagon!” Kynan parried Dagon's strike with unusual force and disengaged, panting with anger and exertion.
Dagon stared at Kynan before allowing his guard to lower an inch, reluctantly recognizing his burning muscles’ need for air. “Sorry."
Shooting him a skeptical look, Kynan sheathed his sword. “Tell that to my wife after you explain why my head is no longer attached.” He moved to the side of the room and swiped up his water jug, taking a hearty swig. Sweat trickled down his throat as he brushed his wet bangs off his hair. “Council being difficult?"
Dagon looked away, heading for his own drink. “Always. I think I might have them close to seeing sense, though. Exile isn't the answer, not for attempted genocide.” He kept his face closed, though he wanted nothing more than to destroy something. The mirrored walls of the practice room would do for a start.
Kynan, who knew him better than anyone alive, sent him a slanted look and gestured toward the door. “Come on. You need a session in the steam room, and then we'll have some lunch.” He waited until Dagon reluctantly fell in line, then canted his head. “Congratulations. I hear the medics are going to release your wife from quarantine in the next couple of days. That should help you burn off some tension, aye?"
A reluctant smile tilted Dagon's lips. Sleeping was all he'd been able to do with his wife in the last, eternal days, with all the monitors on her every hour of the day. It would be one less stress to be able to lie with her, sleep with her in his arms without having medics hovering in the background.
He'd forgotten how vicious celibacy could be.
It was more than that, though. He missed their quiet moments, the peace of knowing that she was safe at home or in her lab. The thought of her lab had his lips tightening again in anger, but that wasn't the only thing eating him alive.
Nikon had an appointment with him in five days. Dagon knew what he wanted, and he also knew how women were treated in his society. High priced, sterile prostitutes, servicing those who could pay. Nikon's people had taken the few of their women that were left and decided they were best “utilized” by sharing among those who could afford it. Differences like that had carved a deep chasm between their people eons ago, and he wasn't eager to turn helpless women over to be used like whores. Even Nikon's own mother serviced many men.
That wasn't the worst of it, though. In the absence of women, Nikon's men had turned to each other. Though he was careful not to speak publicly about it, it was well known that Nikon opposed it, though it would cost him his kingdom to try to reform it without bringing in more women. Rumor even had it that his rule was a shaky one, growing more difficult by the day. Already he'd weathered several assassination attempts. Guarantees from him under those circumstances would be hard to accept.
There was one card Dagon could play, hopefully one Nikon would recognize. He knew enough of Nikon to realize that he was not like his father or grandfather. He'd been fighting for change in a corrupt system for years now, gathering men around him who felt the same. With a leader like that, a small core of men could hold a line of defense against the whoremongers, though it would mean fighting their entire nation to keep any women Dagon might give him.
If Dagon did authorize his men to steal more women from Earth for Nikon, he would demand that Nikon set himself apart and fight that war if necessary. Nothing less than a blood oath would convince him that Nikon meant to protect his women.
There was, off course, one other thing he could suggest, but he had his doubts that Nikon would go for it. Men born to power were reluctant to give it up, and he couldn't see Nikon walking away from an empire built on his ancestor's sweat and blood.
The course of a nation might be decided on their coming interview.
They'd reached the locker room. Shaking off his dark thoughts, Dagon shed his clothes and followed Kynan into the steam room, praying it would help to settle him until he could hold his wife again.
* * * *
"Congratulations, Tzara. There's no trace of the virus in your system."
Vana grinned at the jubilant medic and turned, plastering a big kiss on Dagon's relieved face. “See? Now the next time I want to stay up late working on a project, you're going to cheer me on, aren't you?"
He laughed and pulled her close for a longer kiss. “I'll move our bed in there if I have to.” Conscious of the celebrating medics, he put his arm around her and escorted her from the room, eager to have her alone. In spite of his desire, though, he grinned proudly at the men and women lining the hallway, cheering and clapping their Tzara's triumph.
Vana laughed and waved as people threw flower petals, as teary-eyed as some of the grateful men saluting her. Though the women understood what she'd done, none of them felt it to the depths as did the men who'd been saved from extinction. To them, she'd saved their very future, and there would never be a day when she'd lack for reverence and fierce devotion. The fact that she already carried their Tzar's daughter nearly elevated her to the status of saint. Had their societ
y not been so rigidly paternalistically religious and based on a single deity, she might even have been worshiped; their adoration was that strong. Many generations later, she would still be known as the Queen Mother, the salvation of their race.
None of that mattered to Vana just then. All she wanted was Dagon in her arms, and by the dark fire in his eyes, she was going to get her wish with interest.
Sure enough, the moment their door closed behind them, Dagon flattened her against it and devoured her mouth. His hands were everywhere, ripping fabric rather than bother with stubborn fasteners.
"Dagon!” she gasped with surprise, astonished by his haste.
Instead of answering, he covered her mouth with his and kissed her long and deep until she was with him again, as impatient as he. In seconds she was moaning, straining toward him, and he gave her what they both yearned for. Loosening his pants, he parted her legs and took her right there against the door, ignoring the faint rattle of the massive door against the frame. Her moans only drove him on, and as his knees grew weak with pleasure, he wrapped her legs around him and carried her to toward the bed. They got as far as the floor cushions before the heat consumed him. Giving up, he laid her down on the softness and rode her to paradise. Their journey culminated in a burst of white heat that tore cries from both their throats.
Dazed by the pleasure, it was several moments before Vana could stir enough to comment weakly, “Wow. I think you missed me."
His short laugh shook both their bodies. “What was your first clue?"
Idly stroking his back, she grinned against his chest as she felt his body rise for another round. “I don't know. I had a feeling after you shredded my clothes that ... oh.... “she arched, suddenly uninterested in banter as he flexed inside her.
The second loving was longer, slower, though no less powerful. Halfway through they moved to the bed, and she lay there in the afterglow, drowsy with pleasure. “I think I'm going to have to get sick more often, if this is the welcome home I get."
Unamused, Dagon sat up. “Don't say that. Don't ever do that to me again."
The anguish on his face made her instantly sorry. Stroking his cheek, she murmured, “I'm sorry, love. Humor helped me to get through this. I didn't mean to upset you."
Taking a deep breath, he nodded shortly and lay back down, gathering her tightly to his chest. “It's been a nightmare, adajah. You've no idea—” he swallowed.
Struggling upward against his hold, she was finally able to see his glittering eyes. Softly she cupped his face, kissing his mouth before touching her forehead to his cheek. “Forgive me for worrying you, then, love. I was scared, too.” Hidden from his view, she managed a wobbly smile. “I knew how much I was gambling on that tree.” She winced, reminded of the nasty juice. “I just wish the medicine was easier to swallow."
He positioned her so he could see her face. “You'll take it every morning without fail. I'm thinking of making it a law."
She laughed. “Oh, the women would lynch me for that. Thanks a lot."
Dagon grunted in reluctant amusement. “They should kiss the ground you walk on. My men will, forever."
Smiling at the thought of sainthood, Vana snuggled back down and yawned. “That could get embarrassing. Tell them to stick with throwing flower petals. On second thought, nix that. The janitors won't be happy with them, and the gardeners would have my head.” Still mulling over silly thank you's, she closed her eyes and slowly drifted into sleep.
* * * *
Dagon broke the news about Nikon to her after she'd had a few days to relax. He wasn't happy to see the frown that drew her brows together, but she took it more calmly than he expected.
As so often happened, the discussion took place over a meal, eaten in the privacy of their room. He waited in vain for Vana to relax and recline on the pillows around the low table, but she'd never overcome her culture's tendency to sit upright during a meal. In lieu of that, he waited until her expression softened into tranquil enjoyment before explaining the situation.
She looked at him thoughtfully as she slowly finished a piece of fruit, seemingly deep in thought. “You've obviously put a lot of thought into safeguarding any women you might put in his way. Thank you for that. I wish you'd make it a condition that he defect first, though."
"I can't. Such an uncompromising condition might move him to agree, only to later return to his own people out of spite. I can't force his hand—it must be his choice.” Surprised by her calm, Dagon studied her, looking for warning signs. “You're not objecting to bringing more women here. Why?"
She looked aside and took a deep breath. “I don't like it, I don't want to see it happen, and I think it's horrible to barter with women you'll have to steal first. Unfortunately, I can't stop you, can I?” She looked at him almost challengingly for a moment, anger and fierce strength simmering just under her surface.
He met her gaze, his own implacable. Some things were beyond even her power to change. “No."
Her jaw set. “So I've learned to choose my battles. If I can't stop you from doing this, I can at least influence you to give the women every chance for a happy life."
"Like I gave you?” he asked softly, letting her see the deep affection and love in his eyes.
The atmosphere softened, and she dropped her gaze. “We got lucky."
"Kynan and Kelsa were also fortunate, as were Ser and Jen. Also that blonde and the chief machinist, and Adviser Patarac and his new wife, and—"
"All right!” Vana held up a hand to suppress his teasing, unable to stop a small laugh. “So there's been one or two good matches come of your scheming. That doesn't mean everyone you kidnap will have a happily ever after."
He circled a crispy bite of meat on the end of his food pick. “Yes, but there was no saying they'd be any happier on Earth. Besides, I thought it was every woman's dream to be surrounded by a sea of potent men vying for their favors.” He ducked the pillow she tossed at him, laughing at her chagrined expression.
"How would you know what women want? Did you take a survey?” she demanded, subsiding onto her pillows, the better to glower at him.
Dagon winked and moved around the table. “I looked at one of your women's magazines when I was exploring your world. I discovered all your secrets."
She snorted, trying to ignore his big body settling over her soft one. “You can't believe everything you read."
He bent down and whispered a suggestion in her ear, nuzzling as he did. He'd read it in the magazine and been intrigued by the idea, vowing he would try it for himself. The time had come.
Her eyes widened. “That doesn't really work. I mean, for me. As a turn on. I think it would be messy.” Even so, her breathing had picked up.
Eyes sparkling wickedly, he popped her top open, then reached over to the table and grabbed a crystal dish of whipped fruit cream. “Let's find out."
"Dagon! No, wait—ayiie!” Vana gasped as the creamy stuff landed on her breast with a cool splat, squirming as Dagon held her in place. Despite herself, a warm dampness started between her legs. She wasn't really getting turned on by this, was she?
Grinning like a shark, Dagon set the dish down and cupped her breasts, smoothing the cream around with great relish. He took an experimental lick of one pebbled nipple. “Mm. Tasty."
"Dagon—” she gasped as he swirled one finger around her breast, then lifted it to her mouth, sticking it between her lips, making her taste what he did.
Her eyes glazed over.
Pleased, he glanced at the table and smiled. Ripping open her skirt with one quick tug, he ignored her exclamations and lifted the tiny syrup pitcher.
"Oh, no! Dagon, you—” Vana gasped as the cool liquid dripped into her woman's curls and ran down her cleft, dampening her already wet kitten.
Dagon smiled and kissed her senseless before licking his way down to a man's honeyed paradise.
Vana shocked herself with her responsiveness. It wasn't like her to go for the messy stuff—jell-o wrestling h
ad never been one of her turn-ons, or so she'd thought. Maybe it was good that he was the more adventurous one—some things shouldn't be missed.
Conscious thought splintered, ousted by pure sensation. He took every care of her, always so careful to ensure her pleasure before taking his own. Silently, he proved his love for her, inventing many ways to please her, devoting every consideration to her in this realm since he couldn't give her everything in others. She didn't need the words to know he would give her everything he could, and in a world so often demanding hard choices, it was a huge concession to offer her what little he had left.
She'd thought him a rich man, a man with all the choices, but she'd been so wrong. The right choices were hard, and came with no guarantees, yet he made them anyway. It was the measure of a man that he chose to think of how his decisions would affect others, no matter what the cost, and he was strong enough to stand by them. He'd won her trust, and it was that trust that made their loving all the more powerful, the more real, so that when she finally climaxed, it was in a blaze of glory and trusting joy, completely without fear and very, very powerful.
Ah, what a pleasure loving a good man could be.
Growling softly, Dagon rose above her and claimed his lawful place between her thighs. The claiming made them both moan, made him swear words of devotion even as he fought a too quick climax. Love was their battlefield, pleasure their war, and he fought to prolong it until it roared over them and swept them both away.
Some battles were better off lost.
Nikon's little skirmish was not one of them. They were waiting for him in the audience chamber when he strode in that afternoon, as confident as if he owned the palace. Arrogantly attired in a long sleeved crimson tunic and trousers with a black mandarin collar trimmed in gold braid instead of body armor, he wore no weapons of any kind. Perhaps he knew that he wouldn't stand a chance against the full arsenal of Beast wrath, or perhaps it was his way of stating his own worth. Either way, the blond king was definitely not there in the guise of humble supplicant.