But the wine must have gone down the wrong way. Nikki choked and gasped, feeling like her throat was getting tight. What was happening?
Rising from the table, she grasped at her throat with both hands. She was beginning to feel afraid now—it was getting hard to breathe! What—
Suddenly Malik was at her side.
“What’s wrong, Mistress? What is it?” he asked urgently.
“Can’t…breathe.” Nikki pointed at her throat and gasped some more.
A grim look came over the big Kindred’s face. He grabbed the strange silver candlestick-looking thing the serving slave had called a “sniffer” and waved it over Nikki’s salad bowl. Nothing happened. But when he waved it over the golden goblet with the dark green liquor in it, the golden nubs at the end of the sniffer’s silver arms went crazy, lighting up and making a loud, ominous buzzing sound like some kind of alarm.
“Just as I thought. Come on—we have to get the antidote!” Malik grabbed her by the arm and wrenched her away from the table. Nikki found she was running to keep up with him even as her throat kept getting tighter and tighter. The awful, constricting sensation made her remember a demonstration she’d seen in once in high school.
A nurse had come to their Health class to talk about the dangers of smoking and how it could give you cancer and other horrible diseases like COPD—Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disorder. She had passed out straws to the entire class and then instructed them to pinch their noses and only breathe through the straw.
Of course, very shortly the entire class was gasping for breath—it wasn’t easy getting all the oxygen you needed through such a tiny, narrow opening. The demonstration had really hit home with Nikki and she had never tried a single cigarette.
Now, however, she was beginning to feel like she’d had a pack-a-day habit for the past twenty years. Her throat kept getting tighter and tighter and she was feeling dizzy because she couldn’t breathe. The opulent hallways whizzed by in a blur as she stumbled along after the big Kindred, trying to keep up with his quick pace.
Just as she thought she was going to black out, they came to a stop in front of a small door at the end of a narrow corridor.
“Here we are,” Malik announced. He yanked open the door, revealing a small room filled with glass cabinets. Opening one of the cabinets, he began searching through its contents, which Nikki couldn’t see. By now black flowers were blooming in front of her eyes and she could feel herself fading away even as she scrabbled weakly at her throat. She slumped to the ground.
Air! Need air!
“This should work,” Malik’s voice said.
Somehow Nikki managed to focus on him and saw that he was holding up a syringe-type thing with the longest, sharpest needle she had ever seen.
Seriously? That looks like something you’d use on an elephant—not a person!
But before she could protest, Malik had pushed up the hem of the gown she was wearing and was stabbing the long, sharp needle into meaty part of her upper thigh.
Nikki arched her back and howled soundlessly as a burning sensation began to spread through her entire body. It was as though every nerve she owned had been suddenly set on fire and the pain just kept getting more and more intense.
Killing me—he’s killing me, she thought frantically. He was just waiting for a chance and this is it—he’s setting me on fire from the inside-out!
But Malik wasn’t done yet. As soon as he yanked the huge needle out of her leg, he pulled out a small bottle of pink liquid and began trying to get her to swallow it.
“No—no!” Nikki gasped. It didn’t occur to her that she could now breathe again and she had air to talk with—all she knew was that her entire body was on fire and she was desperately afraid the big Kindred was trying to kill her.
“Take it!” Malik insisted. “You have to take it now, Mistress, before the symptoms reoccur. We don’t have much time!”
“No!” Nikki tried to knock the bottle out of his hand but the big Kindred got her in a head lock and pried her mouth open with one hand. With the other, he dumped the bottle of pink liquid down her throat. Then he clamped her jaws shut, pinched her nose, and blew in her face.
It was a variation of the way Nikki had given liquid antibiotics to her twins when they were too young to understand what was good for them and it worked on her just as it had worked on them. Her instincts took over and she swallowed, feeling the pink liquid—which was ice-cold—slide down her throat.
At last Malik let go of her and she sat back, panting and shivering. The cold from the pink liquid seemed to be putting out the awful burning sensation in her nerves but it was small comfort, since now she felt like she was being frozen to death from the inside-out.
“What…what d-d-did you d-do to m-me?” she demanded, her teeth chattering as she rubbed her arms to try and get warm. “W-what did you g-g-give me?”
“An antidote to the poison you so foolishly took,” he growled, and for the first time, Nikki noticed, he didn’t call her “Mistress.”
“A-antidote? I f-f-feel like I’m f-f-freezing to death!” she exclaimed.
“That’s because it’s doing its job and rooting out the nanites,” he said grimly. “And it should be almost done so get ready. Do you want me to hold your hair?”
“H-hold my h-hair? Why?” Nikki asked.
But just then the biggest rush of nausea she’d ever felt rolled through her. It was like the stomach flu and the day after the time she’d gotten blind-drunk in college all rolled into one. Her stomach heaved and a jet of bright pink shot out of her mouth and splattered against the opposite wall.
The stuff seemed to be liquid as it came from her mouth, but strangely, when it hit the air, it turned into a kind of fine, sparkly pink glitter with green specks in it. It was almost pretty but Nikki didn’t have time to admire the effect because another wave of nausea was rolling through her. And then another and another…
Malik said nothing but he held her long hair away from her face and watched as she was wretchedly and repeatedly sick. Nikki couldn’t read the expression on his face—not that she could spare much thought for how the big Kindred was feeling when she herself was so miserable.
Finally, when she felt as though her stomach had been turned completely inside-out, the awful sickness subsided. And after a few more dry heaves where nothing came out at all, the terrible urge to vomit finally passed.
“Ohhhh…” Nikki moaned and wiped at her chin. It came away glittery—as though she’d been snacking on the contents of a kid’s craft table. She slumped to her side, her eyes half-closed. She wanted to get away from the shiny mess she’d left on the floor, but she was too weak to do anything but turn her head away and cry weakly.
This is awful, she thought dismally. Horrible. She hated throwing up worse than anything. Dealing with Gary and his cheating ways and the kids’ issues back home would be better than this—anything would.
Dimly, she heard Malik calling for a clean-up crew as well as security.
“Detain the entire kitchen and serving crew,” he was saying. “Every last one. I want them in pain bracelets until one of them talks—we need to know who was behind the poisoning.”
Then he was gathering her into his arms.
“Come on, let’s get you up,” Nikki heard him say.
“I can walk,” she protested weakly but it was a lie and they both knew it. Malik didn’t even bother to argue with her. He just lifted her and took her back to the BDSM bedroom. He laid her gently on the bed and then sat beside her, after carefully bolting the doors shut and setting some kind of alarm, Nikki thought. He looked into her face and frowned at her.
“Now,” he rumbled, glaring down at her. “Tell me who in the Seven Hells you are. Because you damn sure aren’t Mistress Hellenix of Yonnie Six.”
Chapter Ten
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Sophia brushed a hand over her husband’s high forehead, which was wrinkled in intense concentration. Sylvan only looked like thi
s when there was some serious problem that only he could solve. As head of the Kindred High Council, he was called on often to resolve issues that would have perplexed a lesser male. Yet, whatever it was, Sophia knew her man was up to it—he always was. She just wished it didn’t take such a toll on him.
“Hmm?” Sylvan looked up from the report he’d been studying on his scan-board.
“I said, what’s wrong? What’s bothering you?” Sophia asked him. She went around behind him and massaged his broad shoulders as he sat hunched at his home study desk. “You have that look on your face—the one that says the weight of the entire universe is on you. It makes me worried about you.”
“Oh, Talana…” Sylvan sighed and Sophia felt him relax some under her kneading fingers. “Gods, that feels good,” he groaned.
“I’m glad but what’s the problem?” Sophia asked. She knew it made Sylvan feel better to talk about the cares and worries that were placed on him as head of the Council and since the twins were down for the night, it was a good time to talk uninterrupted.
“It’s probably nothing,” Sylvan said, shaking his head.
“But?” Sophia prompted.
“But…” He sighed again. “But it might be something. Do you remember the attack on me? The assassin droid that was sent by Mistress Hellenix of Yonnie Six?”
“Of course I do! I’m not likely to forget it!” Sophie exclaimed. “She made it look like Liv, too! That horrible woman!”
“Don’t worry about her,” Sylvan said dryly. “Councilor Paige and Councilor Lone are preparing the case against her right now. Soon she’ll be called before the Council of Seven—the ruling body of Yonnie Six—to answer for her crimes.”
“How long is soon?” Sophia demanded. “Why is it taking so long? She should already be behind bars!”
“Yonnite justice is slow but sure,” Sylvan told her. “Don’t worry about that. Councilor Paige seems to think we have an airtight case. When all is said and done, Mistress Hellenix will be stripped of her power and prestige and hopefully turned over to the Kindred High Council for justice.”
“Will the Yonnites really turn over one of their own to a society where males are equal to females, though?” Sophia asked doubtfully. It didn’t sound very likely to her, from what she’d heard about Yonnie Six, where men were considered lower than dirt.
“That is our hope,” Sylvan said grimly. “Though we can’t say for sure. But she’s guilty not only of the attempt on my life but of the multiple atrocities committed on falsely imprisoned males in BleakHall prison, which she and her fellow Yonnite Mistresses run. But it’s not Mistress Hellenix that I’m worried about right now.”
“It’s not?” Sophie looked at him, surprised. “Then what’s the problem?”
“I’m worried about Uriel Two—the place where the assassin droid that Mistress Hellenix sent after me was manufactured,” Sylvan told her.
Sophia frowned. “Isn’t that the world that got taken over by that Artificial Intelligence system they trusted to run the planet?”
Sylvan nodded. “It was the home world of the Volt Kindred—some of the most powerful of our kind. They can actually generate and channel electricity—they are deadly in a fight. I met one of them—a slave of Mistress Hellenix’s who stayed with her by choice—though I never found out the reasons why.”
Sophia shivered. “Why would any man stay with such a horrible woman? And why are you worried about Uriel Two?”
“After the attempt on my life, the High Council decided it might be a good thing to track activity on Uriel Two.” Sylvan told her. “We sent a couple of spy satellites into deep orbit around the planet—we couldn’t get any closer than that because they have an energy kill-field enclosing the entire planet that they never take down. So we can’t see much but…”
“But what?” Sophia asked, trying to control the worry in her own voice. She didn’t like the awful story of Uriel Two, where an AI had killed all the humanoid inhabitants and taken over completely. It was a little too Terminator-esque for her taste.
“It may be nothing but there has been increased activity lately in their manufacturing hubs,” Sylvan said. “I wish we could get more information but there’s no way unless they lift the kill-field around the planet.”
“Are you worried they’re preparing some kind of an invasion force or something?” Sophia asked, putting a hand to her throat. The idea of homicidal AIs coming for her and her loved ones chilled her to the bone.
“Oh no, I wouldn’t think so.” Sylvan’s voice was mild but his face still looked troubled. “It’s probably nothing, as I said. And there’s not much we could do about it, except be prepared, even if it was a problem. Uriel Two is impregnable—the AI that runs it, the Knower—has made certain of that.” He shook his head. “I need to bring it to the attention of the Council tomorrow and see what the general consensus is. Other than that, the matter is in the Goddess’s hands.”
Sophia could see that he was trying—and failing—to put the problem out of his mind. The link between them was humming with his inner tension and it was clear to her that her husband wasn’t going to be able to sleep tonight without some kind of distraction from his worries.
Luckily, she knew just how to help him.
“Well, if there’s nothing you can do about it tonight, you need to try and forget it,” she murmured, coming around to stand in front of his office chair.
“I know.” Sylvan looked up at her with troubled pale-blue eyes. “I’m trying, Talana. Sometimes the cares of the Council weigh heavily on me.”
“Oh, Sylvan, I know they do.” Sophia straddled him, sitting on his lap with her legs on either side of his. This had the effect of pushing the skirt she was wearing almost up to her hips and putting her panties on display, but Sophia didn’t care.
Putting her arms around his neck, she drew him closer and leaned her forehead against his so she could look into his eyes.
“I just wish there was some way I could distract you,” she murmured through their link. “Some way to take your mind off all these troubles.”
Then she kissed him, taking his mouth gently but firmly, letting him know that she loved him and she was there for him—in every way.
“Mmm, I think you may have found a way,” Sylvan sent back through the link, kissing her back. “Gods, Talana, your mouth is so sweet!”
“Yours is too.” With her tongue, Sophia delicately traced the sharp double set of fangs all Blood Kindred had. One of the things she liked most about having a telepathic link to her husband was the fact that they could kiss and do…other things while they talked at the same time.
“Mmm, and what ‘other things’ would those be?” Sylvan murmured through the link. He sent a mental image of Sophia on the bed while he knelt before her, his face buried between her thighs as he lapped and sucked her bare pussy.
Sophia felt a shiver of desire run through her at the graphic image but suddenly she needed more than that—she wanted to feel connected to her husband as deeply as possible. His reminder of the attempt on his life made her feel like she couldn’t get close enough to him.
“I like that idea,” she said, breaking the kiss at last. “But I like this one better.”
Reaching between them, she began tugging at the magno-tabs which held his black uniform trousers closed.
“Mmm, Talana—are you certain you don’t want me to warm you up with my tongue first?” Sylvan growled softly, as he helped her with the fastenings, allowing his long, thick shaft to spring free. “I love to taste your sweet pussy until you moan for me.”
“Positive.” Sophia was nearly panting. Sylvan’s bonding scent—warm and sharp and clean—was rising around her, invading her senses, getting her ready for him. “I want you in me,” she told him, looking into his eyes. “I want you in me now, Sylvan. And not just your shaft—I want your fangs in me too.”
He growled low in his throat, his eyes going heavy-lidded with need. Blood Kindred had the need to bite and inject the
ir essence—a pale blue liquid secreted by their fangs which stimulated the pleasure centers of their mate’s brain—whenever they made love. It was something that Sophia had used to fear but now she loved the feeling of her husband’s fangs sinking into her neck almost as much as she loved the feeling of his cock sinking into her pussy.
“It would be my pleasure to sink into you, both above and below, Talana,” Sylvan growled softly and she knew he had heard her through their link.
“Well? Then what are you waiting for?” Sophia asked breathlessly. Reaching down, she pulled her lacy white panties to one side, baring her pussy for his thick length.
Sylvan reached between them but instead of fitting the head of his cock to her waiting pussy, he cupped her for a moment in his palm.
Sophia threw back her head and moaned as she felt two long, strong fingers slipping into her inner folds to stroke the hot little button of her clit.
“Gods, Talana, always so hot and wet for me,” he murmured, his eyes still heavy with lust. “My sweet numala.”
Sophia squirmed with pleasure against his invading fingers. She had always been a numala—the Kindred word for a female whose pussy got especially wet and ready when she was stimulated.
She could still remember the first time Sylvan had called her that and explained what it meant—right before he had spent hours exploring her pussy with his tongue. They had been on the run from the Scourge at the time and he had only been trying to cover her scent with his own—it had been a necessity, or so they had told themselves. But necessity had soon turned into desire and Sophia had come again and again as he tasted her that night.
The memory of that first time together made her even hotter and wetter and soon she was writhing all over his lap, soft little cries of need and pleasure escaping her as Sylvan stroked and fingered her, watching her reaction hungrily as he gave her pleasure, which he loved to do.
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