Courting Kel

by Dee Brice

  Recalling what she and Aren had done most of the night, feeling a blush steal over her entire body, she could imagine all too well.

  “Is that why there are no servants here now?”

  “No. The men are at the king’s palace awaiting the brides. Cover your hair, Flame.” They had arrived at the doors leading to the outside.

  Another order! Shooting him at rebellious look—which he ignored—she settled her hood over her hair. “You have such strange customs, Aren. My gown is so sheer a blind man could see through it, yet you don’t want anyone to see my hair.”

  “Among your many assets, your hair marks you as unique.”

  “Tak. I think.”

  Grinning, he helped her into an open carriage drawn by… “Mechanical horses?” Kel said, her voice betraying her surprise.

  “Yes. We use them for transport within Storr City. No cleanup required. In the country…” He looped his left arm around her waist. Sliding his hand up, he cupped her breast.

  Despite witnessing matings, Kel had never been touched so brazenly where others might see. Embarrassed at Aren’s public display, she stared straight ahead and tried to ignore her rigid nipples and the heat spreading through her body.

  “In the country we ride real horses. Sometimes,” he whispered in her ear, “we ride naked and fuck. I’m looking forward to our ride.”

  “When?” slipped out before she thought. Blushing, she shoved his hand away. “I have never seen a city with so many trees. On—on my homeworld, trees abound in the countryside but not in the cities.”

  “I believe it’s so no one can hide behind them or in their branches.”

  “I would like to meet the person who told you so much about my home.” The admission slipped out before she could stem it.

  “Someday maybe you will.” Looking up, he added, “You don’t have buildings taller than a single story, either. Their outer walls are flat, the corners rounded. In short, there is nowhere to hide.”

  “Were you in constant danger of being invaded, you’d take such measures.” Kel had no idea why, but every other year or so, come spring, the invaders swarmed like skeetmosques. Perhaps it was a rite of some kind to prove their manhood. Barbarians!

  “Ahh, we’ve arrived. Castle Storr. Did I tell you the present king’s name is also Storr?”

  “No. And why should I care?”

  “When he meets you he’ll insist you call him by his name. Do not. Use his title only.”

  “Which is?” Kel sniped, sensing Aren would refuse to answer any other question. She preferred the smiling man to the humorless…master.

  “Majesty is the shortest and easiest to remember.”

  “I’m not stupid.”

  “I wish you were,” Aren muttered. “Or could pretend to be for the next few hours.” He helped her down then looped her hand through his crooked arm. “Try not to let go of me. If we get separated, head directly toward Storr’s throne. If I’m not there yet, keep your hood up and your eyes downcast.”

  “In other words, look and act like a dolt,” she said under her breath.

  “If you can.”

  With that, he headed for the steps leading to Castle Storr, towing Kel with him.

  She heard the noise before she saw the crowd of men standing in groups before a set of massive carved doors. Reaching for her dagger to no avail, she struggled to free herself from Aren’s iron grip. For a moment—a moment so brief the thought barely registered—she considered plunging into the throng of men. As if she could hide her height even in the mass of tall men milling about. And if her hood slipped or she lost her cape altogether… Without a weapon—by the Goddess, even with one—she had no hope of escaping. And only the Goddess knew what the men might do to her if they caught her.

  “Stay quiet,” Aren hissed, taking her away from the doors.

  And, thankfully, away from the men.

  “They won’t harm you, Flame, but they might embarrass you.”

  “How?”

  “You’ll see.” Placing his fingers over her lips, he drew her into deep shadows. “I’d take you in a different way except… We’ll wait until most have gone inside.”

  “Then what?” Knowing she could not survive battling so many men, she acknowledged Aren was her sole protection. She also realized how defenseless she would be if they did get separated.

  “You’ll see.”

  “Aren, take me back. We can…mate in every bedroom if you wish. Or…or…”

  “Tempting as that offer is, I can’t. You’ll come to no harm, I promise. Come, now.”

  Gulping, she let him lead her. Playing the dolt and keeping her eyes downcast might ensure her safety.

  Coward, Basalia whispered in Kel’s mind, the memory of her mother’s voice lending her courage. Despite, Kel thought ruefully, the disparaging term coward.

  Yes. But I’ll survive to fight free—to escape—another day, Kel thought. That’s how you raised me. To fight to my death if I must.

  But by all the gods, the enormous room seemed filled with men. Hundreds. Thousands, perhaps. All shifting around, their voices low, now sounding like a swarm of a wasps.

  “You’re late.” The words thundered over the suddenly quiet space.

  “Yes, Majesty. Lest you seem to favor me above your other subjects, I came in with them.”

  “A clever lie. Take your seat so we can begin.”

  “Yes, Majesty.” Whispering, he warned Kel to keep her head down no matter what he said.

  Slouching to hide her height, she nodded, but clutched his warm hand.

  “Good.”

  “Tak,” she whispered back.

  “Who is that?” the king bellowed.

  “A servant, Majesty. It is time for her to learn about The Choosing.”

  Bristling at being called a servant, she tried to jerk her hand away. Aren squeezed her fingers, warning her not to react. “Sit at my feet, girl. From there you can see most of what happens.”

  She sat facing the men, her bowed head nearly touching her drawn-up knees. That voice—Storr’s, she guessed—boomed again. “She’ll not see much except the floor.”

  Kel raised her head a little and heard a satisfied grunt.

  “Bring in the princesses.”

  Kel nearly jumped out of her skin. Behind her, Aren explained, “The princesses always get to look first.”

  “L-look?” Kel echoed.

  “So should you.”

  She sat a little straighter and peeked. The center of the room stood empty. Those men who’d been there now formed a half circle around the space. Catching swirls of color flowing over the inlaid parquetry floor, she lifted her head. The princesses’ colorful trains had caught her attention. Looking up, she gasped but could not look away. Each man had exposed his cock and balls. And as she passed, each princess stroked him. Some cocks needed no encouragement but stood out like axe handles or flagpoles. Those the princesses paused to caress more fully or leaned down to sniff before moving on to the next already erect or growing cock. Scents of arousal—male and female—made Kel dizzy.

  “How many are there?”

  “Princesses? Thirty-nine. Men…around five hundred. But there are a hundred or more women waiting for the princesses to finish.”

  “Still not enough to go around.”

  “Not if the women claim two or more men.”

  Kel lost her voice and fought to stay upright. On Amazonia, even innocents took it all in. The size of every cock and how it compared to its brethren and what effect each woman—princess or not—had on it. Kel kept her head still but lowered her gaze to her sandals. She had no idea why their display disturbed her but it did. Maybe because she now knew exactly what would happen between them later. Or, more likely, because she wanted to return to Aren’s arms and recapture the bliss they’d shared.

  Storr’s voice boomed out again. “Before you make your choices, ladies, you must view my son’s and nephew’s spears. Aren, Tage, present yourselves.”

 
Kel straightened and half turned toward Aren. Before she could say a word, he pulled her up to stand beside him.

  “I shan’t participate this year, Majesty. Or any year hence. I have taken a wife.”

  “Impossible! You see before you the only women worthy of you. Thirty-nine this year but—”

  “The fortieth princess stands at my side. The proof of our marriage is on this sheet.” Pulling it from under his arm, Aren held up the blood-spotted material for the entire assembly to inspect. Kel buried her face in her hands and groaned, knowing it was her virgin’s blood that made the stains.

  “Come here,” Storr commanded.

  “Tage will testify to my bride’s virginity. Since all the princesses he transported were inspected during the voyage, he knows the thirty-nine were no longer innocent. Your own physicians verified her virginity when she first boarded The Herald.” Aren towed her to Storr’s side.

  Wife? I cannot be his wife! I won’t be wife to any man! In her mind, marriage equaled slavery. She knew warriors sometimes took permanent mates and even seemed content with the arrangement. But Kel had not expected it for herself. She didn’t want it! Especially not here, where men held the upper hand. The Choosing was a sham—a trick. The women Tage transported were duped into thinking they were free. But what would happen the first time they refused their mate? If Aren’s high-handed treatment of her was any indication, all the women could expect was… She couldn’t imagine how men here punished. On Amazonia, women withheld mating or sought pleasure elsewhere. Here? She ground her teeth, keeping her rising anger hidden from Aren’s too discerning gaze. And what was all that guanshit about being examined? If that had happened, she must have been unconscious at the time—another reason not to trust Ondricans to respect a woman’s body!

  “Tage! Why didn’t you inspect this woman yourself?”

  “I feared for my…personal wealth.”

  Kel looked up in time to see Tage blush to the roots of his blond hair. To give the devil his due, he met Storr’s fury with a steady glare of his own. But she wanted to laugh at his description of his cock and balls, especially since he’d willingly put himself on display.

  “We’ll discuss this later. In the meantime, Tage, present yourself.” Under his breath, Storr added, “As if he needs another introduction to these women.”

  Chapter Four

  Fascinated, Kel watched and listened while Tage committed himself to a solid fortnight of mating. The process could have taken longer, except the princesses agreed to share him. Three at a time, with one day off between the weeks for him to recover fully.

  “You could have saved me,” Tage complained good-naturedly to Aren when the royal women left to examine other potential mates. “Taken some of them to bed.”

  “You’ll enjoy it like a pig in a mud bath,” Aren teased back. “Moreover, by the time the princesses are done with you, the others will have paired off and you can rest on your laurels. Besides, I’m a married man.”

  Kel had sat silent for what seemed like hours. She refused to acknowledge their marriage, but she couldn’t ignore share. “Share? What does that mean?”

  “With only one hundred-forty women, give or take one or two, there are many more men than women,” Tage told her.

  “And?”

  “The men share the women.”

  Aren clarified. “Since the women choose the man, sharing is her choice, not theirs.”

  Kel stood and stretched. Glaring at Aren, she said, “You mean I could choose another two or three men as my mates? And you would have no say?”

  “No,” Aren said immediately. “Virgins belong to the man who first—”

  Tage butted in again. “The conditions—the contract the brides sign contains a clause that affirms they are in good health, able to bear children and are not virgins.”

  “Why—?”

  “Virgins require courting. The men often have been without a woman for months. Some for years—”

  “No wonder their cocks rise at the females’ approach.”

  As if to prove their need, several trios raced from the room, the women leading the men by their erections.

  “The first couplings occur in private. Later, if the women wish to partner with other men…” Tage shrugged.

  “They feast together,” Aren said.

  “Feast? You mean they have an orgy, don’t you? And why are you suddenly treating me as if I’m no older than Drew? I know you mean they mate—”

  “Fuck,” Aren said.

  “With everyone else,” Kel finished.

  The men glanced at each other. “Yes,” they both said.

  A female page approached. To Kel, the girl looked only a little older than Drew. Kel frowned at Aren then turned to scold Tage. His flirtatious smile and wink changed her mind. Instead, before either man could defend himself, she jabbed her elbows into their hard-fleshed abs.

  “What is it, Kira?” Aren asked.

  “Storr wants to see you and Tage in his chambers. The female, too.”

  Aren caught Kel’s fist before she coldcocked the page—child or not. Baring her teeth, she felt mollified when the girl backed away.

  “Come along, Flame. Storr rages when he is kept waiting.”

  Your king knows nothing about rages. I was raised by the queen of rages, Kel thought. But she let Aren lead her away.

  And heard the whispers that followed them. “Lucky girl.” “Aren and Tage together?” “She’ll not walk for a week or more.” “I’ve heard stories of their stamina.” “Lucky girl.”

  What did those women think? That because she left with both men, they would both mate her? Is that what Aren and Tage expected? And what about Storr? If he thought she would…he had another think due him.

  By the time they reached Storr’s quarters, Kel was about to explode. Getting her first full look at the king, she stumbled to a halt. All the people she’d seen on Ondrican were fair—almost white-blond. Looking at Aren and Storr, she knew how Aren was so certain he knew his father.

  “Remove your cloak,” the dark-haired, black-eyed man demanded, his voice less bellicose than it had been in the throne room. In truth, he sounded almost cordial. Except for the parentheses around his mouth and streaks of gray at his temples, he was Aren’s twin. Even at his age, his shoulders mirrored his son’s, his height and physique magnificent. But she disliked his attitude. She met his glare with her own.

  “Deal with the woman.” He addressed the order to Aren.

  “I believe my wife is waiting for your greeting, Majesty. And please would help your cause as well.”

  A battle of glares ensued. At length, Storr shrugged and gestured Kel forward. “Welcome to Ondrican. Please remove your cloak. Sit, share a glass of winale with us.” Startling her, he took her cloak himself then swore, long and louder by the second.

  “Tage, take this woman back to where you found her,” Storr demanded, fury in his voice.

  “I can’t, Majesty. I don’t know where she came aboard The Herald. Moreover, only her husband can banish her.”

  “Which I refuse to do,” Aren said, circling Kel’s shoulders.

  “You intend to keep this…” Storr waved his hands, obviously unable to find a word to express his displeasure with her.

  “Yes, Majesty.”

  “Guard yourself well, son. If she doesn’t kill you, she’ll relieve you of your personal wealth.” Repeating Tage’s earlier words, Storr sneered at him as well.

  Kel laughed. All three men stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. “The elders still tell tales of you, Storr. Not by name, of course, and never within my mother’s hearing. But the elders smile and sigh and seem to miss you.”

  “Your mother, the one female on your gods-blasted homeworld who neither smiles nor sighs.”

  “And misses you not at all.” She shot him a so there! grin. Knowing a few tales he might not wish his son and nephew to hear gave her the courage to stand up to him. At least for now.

  “Why?” Tage asked.<
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  “It’s unimportant,” Storr roared.

  “A small matter of rape,” Kel said then sighed. “Attempted rape. He—your father, Aren—was stopped before he could rape my mother. Who was only sixteen at the time.”

  “Woman enough to tease a man to frenzy,” Storr muttered. “And she had her revenge, trying to geld me.”

  Kel chuckled. “How many women saved you, Storr?”

  “I’ve forgotten.” When Kel laughed, he said, “Four or five. They appreciated my cock and balls.”

  As if suddenly realizing the importance of his father’s actions, Aren said, “You and my wife’s mother never fucked?”

  “Tak the gods, never! You think you might have fucked your half-sister. I almost wish you had. Incest would banish—”

  “Both of us.” Aren sounded both relieved and menacing. “So, Father, will you accept our marriage?”

  Looking far from accepting, Storr nodded.

  “But I don’t,” Kel announced and watched their mouths gape.

  “But,” Aren blustered, “I took your virginity. Our laws decree we are man and mate.”

  The poor man looked so dumfounded, Kel almost reconsidered what she was about to say. Since returning to Amazonia was her sole goal, she steeled her resolve. “I’m not a citizen of Ondrican, ergo your laws do not apply to me.”

  “When we wed—”

  “There was no ceremony, Aren. On Amazonia, when a woman takes a mate permanently, there is a ceremony.”

  “Followed by public fucking,” Storr interjected, making Kel blush.

  “I know now where Aren got his knowledge of my homeworld.” Resentment tinged her voice. So much for her earlier bravado!

  “Which will keep you from lying to my son.”

  “I never lie.” Refusing to let him bully her, she canted her chin in his direction, certain any sign of weakness would be her undoing.

  “Even lies of omission?”

  She glared at Storr then faced Aren. “You did not court me.”

  “I seduced you. And you accepted—no, welcomed—my shaft.”

  “I had no choice. You could have raped me. Not that you did, but you could have. Had I not allowed our mating.” Knowing the excuse sounded weak, she shut up and shrugged as if the matter were closed.