by Moira Sutton
“Silas must be desperate indeed if he’s sent you into the lion’s den, little bird.”
Zoa shivered. His voice was exactly as she remembered. Deep and rich and cold as it was thrilling. There was power in it as well, a heavy blast of lust-driven magic that would have sent her to her knees were she anything other than what she was. Even Chosen, it made her breath ragged. The most terrifying thing was that Toric probably hadn’t even done it on purpose. With that much power flowing into him, everything he did became a spell.
But while Zoa’s power sheltered her, the girl on the floor wasn’t so lucky. She cried out at Toric’s words, writhing, her fingers moving madly between her legs. “Lord Vallus,” she begged. “Please. Please.”
Zoa winced at the mindless lust in her voice. The girl reminded her far too much of Mina, a puppet dancing on Toric’s desire. And as with Mina, Toric gave the beautiful girl a disgusted look before walking back and yanking her up by her arm. The girl moaned at the rough touch and tried to cling to Toric’s body, but he held her at arm’s length, half walking, half dragging her to the edge of the platform where the guards who had escorted Zoa in were still waiting.
“Here,” he said, throwing the girl at them. “I’ve no more use for this. See if you can’t stop her moaning.”
The guards grinned like this was a long-standing joke. The girl, however, didn’t even seem to notice that she’d been handed off. She attacked the guards, pulling herself against the nearest one and pressing her naked body against his armor. The guard kissed her roughly while his partner ran his hands over the girl’s writhing body. As she moaned, both guards saluted Toric and carried the girl down the stairs to a cushioned bench at the edge of the orgy. Zoa looked away then, but she couldn’t block out the girl’s delighted cry as the guards began to ravish her right there.
“Are you sure you don’t want to watch?”
Toric’s voice was surprisingly close and Zoa looked up to see him standing right beside her, watching the guards take the girl with an amused smile. “It’s very nostalgic, don’t you think?”
“Why did you do that?” Zoa said before she could stop herself.
“Because I care far more for my soldier’s loyalty than the honor of some whore who’s having a good time anyway,” Toric said simply. “And little presents like these keep them so happy.”
“A girl is not a…a present to be handed out!” Zoa cried, furious.
As though to undermine her words, the girl chose that moment to moan in what was obviously an orgasm and Toric’s cruel smile grew insufferable. “You can tell her so yourself later,” he said. “When she’s not having the fuck of her life.” He turned away then, focusing all his attention on her. “But I have no need of creatures like that when you’re here, do I?”
The predatory menace in his voice made Zoa cringe, and though she tried to hide it, Toric saw everything. Suddenly, his cruel smile grew wider and he reached out, catching the clasp of her cloak with his finger.
Zoa jerked back, her entire body flaring white. Were they anywhere else, were he anyone else, he wouldn’t even be able to get near her if she did not wish it. The white light of Dezira’s protection would have thrown him against the wall. But his quick motion had caught her off guard and he was so strong with all the magic in the air. Even so, she noticed he was very careful not to touch her skin as he unhooked the clasp with one fast sweep. But as her cloak fell away, so did Toric’s smile, and he stepped back with a hiss as he saw what she was wearing.
The weakness lasted only a second, and then his control was back. He crossed his arms and looked her over slowly, his eyes dragging over her body where the lovely purple dress clung. “I’d expected you to burn it,” he said. His voice was casual, but there was real anger in his gaze. Anger and something else, an emotion she couldn’t guess.
“It would be a waste to burn something so beautiful,” Zoa replied, proud that her voice did not shake. She reached down and gathered the sheer fabric in her hands, sending the delicate beads clacking. “It’s not the dress’s fault that it was your gift. I cannot despise it for coming from you any more than I could despise the power you brought me into, Toric.”
His breath sped up when she said his name, but his face remained impassive. “I have no interest in sermons, little white moon. Silas sent you here for a reason. Tell me.”
“Silas did not send me,” Zoa said. “I came myself on behalf of the temple and everyone living inside this city to tell you to stop this madness. I don’t know what game you’re playing, Toric, but whatever it is, you’ve won. You have the emperor and the power and everything else you could want, but if you push things any further, you will do irreparable harm to the Empire. If that happens, we all lose, Toric, even you.” She threw back her hand, pointing at the madly coupling orgy behind her. “You’ve power enough here to be emperor yourself if you had the mind to be, there’s no need to wreck everything else. Please, in Dezira’s name, end this madness and let Vallus go.”
As she spoke, Toric’s smile returned, and by the time she finished, he was grinning with open indulgence. “A game?” he said laughingly, like she was a child trying to take part in an adult conversation. “That’s what you think this is? Some little game for power?” He shook his head. “You’re not thinking big enough, little bird.”
“And you’re not thinking clearly if you don’t realize what’s building,” Zoa said. “I don’t know if you can see them from your palace, Toric, but the people are very close to rebellion. Whatever you’re doing, the breaking of the Empire helps no one. Stop this now before you doom us all.”
“Why would I stop?” Toric said, tilting his head. “Dooming us all is exactly what I’m trying to do.”
Zoa froze, her breath stopping, her body still as stone. Suddenly, everything was wrong, nothing made sense. Her thoughts were in free fall and Toric was grinning as though that was exactly what he wanted.
“What do I care for the Empire?” he said, his voice soft as a caress. “The emperor’s laws preserve order and protect the weak, his Legions cull the barbarians and his taxes buy grain to keep the people fed and content. Everything is made safe, peaceable, all the edges sanded off. Tell me, Zoa, what kind of life is that?”
“A good one,” she said firmly.
“A civilized life,” Toric corrected. “But civility, law, order, these are the aspects of Solus. They have nothing to do with human desire, with the reality of what we are. The truth, little bird, is that humans are animals. Rule, peace, Empire, these are nothing but the leash Solus uses to keep us tied, because without them, we revert to our natural state. Left to our own devices, we always go right back to the way we were meant to live—with the strong on top and weak below, our boots on their necks.”
Zoa stepped back, trembling not with fear now, but with rage. “You are mad,” she spat. “You’re trying to destroy the Empire?”
“I would be mad not to,” Toric said. “I am a Chosen of Dezira, given no edict but to follow my desire. Without law, without order, without Empire, there is nothing but power. And power is my desire.”
Zoa clenched her fists. “I won’t let you!”
The moment the words left her mouth, she knew she’d made a mistake. She was supposed to be distracting Toric, not challenging him. A white moon couldn’t beat a black moon on a normal day, their powers just weren’t made for it. But even if she’d been a black moon, she couldn’t have beaten Toric with all the power he was pulling. She wasn’t sure if Silas could beat him like this. But the challenge was already out, and almost before she could regret the words, Toric moved.
His hand shot out, sliding around her waist to land on the small of her back. Zoa gasped in alarm. Through the sheer cloth, it felt like his hand was directly against her skin, but it wasn’t, and though she tried to push him away, it was like trying to push a mountain. With a rough pull, he drew her up against his bare chest. Frantic, she pressed her hands against his skin, waiting for the flash that would push him awa
y, but nothing happened. Her face must have been a sight, for Toric’s deep chuckle vibrated against her.
“No, no, little bird,” he whispered, ducking his head so that his voice was right in her ear. “Dezira’s power may protect you from my touch, but it doesn’t work if you touch me.” He reached down, gathering a handful of her hair and wrapping it around his fingers. Then, using her long, dark hair as a barrier, he took her chin in his hand and tilted her head up to look at him.
For the first time since she’d entered, Zoa was truly afraid. The look in Toric’s eyes had nothing to do with rebellions or emperors. It was pure, unadulterated power, the kind of power that drove conquerors to burn the lands they took rather than let another have them, and it was entirely directed at her.
“You escaped me once.” The words were like ice on her ears. “But I don’t lose twice, little bird. You came to me. My barrier keeps Silas out and Dezira won’t save you this time, not when you put yourself so willingly into my power.” Her hair unraveled as he dropped his hand from her chin to her breast, caressing it through the sheer cloth of the dress, and the lust that hit her was black as the moon on his forehead.
Suddenly, she was gasping, her knees shaking. She would have fallen had Toric not caught her, but she would have rather crashed to the floor than end up where she did, pressed against him with his arms holding her up. The lust was his, none of her own, and despite the fact that they were both Chosen, it had hit her as hard as if she’d been mortal, leaving her panting against his chest. Her face was pressed against his neck, their skin in full contact, but the white light didn’t save her. In fact, the room was darker than before, and she realized with a stab of terror that the white moon on her forehead had gone out.
“How?” she whimpered, trying to push away, but her arms wouldn’t obey her.
Toric just picked her up, sliding his hands roughly over her body as he did. Another wave of lust hit her at the touch and Toric laughed at her reaction, a cruel, delighted sound. “Five years and you still don’t understand?” he said, carrying her over to his throne. “You were never free of me, little bird. I made you. The bond between us is something not even Dezira can break, and now, this close, surrounded by this much power, you have no hope at all.” And then, to prove it, he reached up and caressed her cheek with his fingers. His bare, hard fingers. And nothing happened.
Zoa made a despairing sound deep in her throat, and to her shame, it turned into a groan as the strongest burst of lust yet, hit her full on. Toric’s power seared through her mind, flooding and twisting it until she felt like she had never Awakened at all. When he sat down, settling her on his lap, Zoa didn’t even try to fight. Instead, she clung to him, biting her lip against the feel of his erection beneath her, the long shaft pressing against the leather she could feel clearly through her dress.
“Foolish little bird,” Toric whispered, sliding his hand over her waist and down between her legs. “You never should have come back. You’re mine forever now. And this time,” his fingers pressed against her clit through the thin, thin silk. “This time you will beg.”
Zoa cried out in longing and bitter shame as the black lust rolled over her. It was a tidal wave now, a great crushing weight fed by the enormous power of the orgy below and Toric’s own blinding lust. As it dragged her under, Zoa’s last frantic thought was of Jeric and Izar. At least she’d done her part, she thought bitterly. Toric was certainly distracted. No matter what else was lost tonight, her lovers would free the emperor and avert the rebellion. But that was cold comfort indeed as Toric’s mouth landed on her bare throat, his teeth painful as they dragged across her skin.
“Moan for me, Zoa,” he commanded, licking his way down to her breasts.
And though she bit her teeth against it, her body obeyed, moaning softly.
Toric grabbed her hair and pulled, yanking her back so that she was spread out like an offering across him. “Louder,” he demanded. “I want all my whores below to hear how much you want me.” His face broke into a smile then, and his hands softened as he reached up to gently slide the dress from her shoulders. “And you do want me, don’t you, little bird? Scream it for me. Scream that you want me.”
Zoa tried to shake her head, but he was holding her hair so tight she couldn’t move. It would have been a lie, anyway. With the black lust singing through her body, she was panting for him like a dog in heat. And so she screamed, a great, ragged, wordless cry.
Toric’s hand released her hair, and she flopped against him as he brought both hands around to grip her breasts, drawing them up to his mouth. As his teeth grazed her nipples, she screamed again, a bitter cry and pleasure, pain and shame that echoed to the very top of the palace.
* * * * *
When the temple palanquin bearers signaled that Zoa was inside, Izar told his men to stand ready. They were hidden in the dark alley behind Toric’s palace, just outside the kitchen gate. The soldiers were the men who had come down with them from the north, and they wished their captain and lieutenant luck as Izar and Jeric, dressed in plain dark clothes, ran across the street to the palace wall. Jeric hopped up first, clearing the wall like it was a garden fence. Once he was up, he reached down for Izar, pulling his captain up to join him with one hand.
“Gods,” Izar whispered, glancing down the ten feet of wall Jeric had just hauled him up. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.”
Jeric gave him a smug smile. “Dezira’s physical gifts might not match those of the Sun’s Chosen, but we’re no slouches. I bet Zoa could lift you over her head if she really tried.”
“I’ll have to remember that,” Izar said wickedly, taking a second to image all the new aspects such strength could add to their lovemaking.
The lustful thoughts must have been clear on his face, because Jeric gave him an exasperated look. But despite the Chosen’s glare, Izar could feel Jeric’s affection through the bond, and he gave his lover a devious grin.
Jeric shook his head and looked away, scanning the grounds below like he was looking for something. “We’re inside Toric’s influence now, I think,” he whispered. “Feel anything?”
“Other than what I normally feel when I look at you?” Izar said, grin widening. “No. Looks like the bond you put on me is working.”
Jeric snorted softly. “I’m glad. If you got any hornier than you normally are, there would be serious trouble.”
“You keep talking like that and there will be,” Izar teased, running his hand over Jeric’s thigh. When the former lieutenant gave him a sharp look, Izar sighed dramatically. “I know, I know. Work first.”
They slid down the other side of the wall, landing in the dark kitchen garden. The kitchen doors were thrown wide and they could see servants moving inside, their shapes outlined by the cookfires. They were all moving furiously, preparing enormous trays of fine food like they were cooking for an army of emperors. Fortunately, this activity kept them far too busy to notice two shapes in the dark as Izar and Jeric crept down the wall, moving deeper into the ornamental garden surrounding the main house.
Most of the activity seemed to be around the central structure. There were fires burning on the walls there and guards moving in pairs. But the wing where Emperor Vallus was supposedly housed was dark and quiet. The garden here was thick and overgrown and seemingly unguarded, and that struck Izar as odd. What treasure could Toric have in his main hall that was more important than the emperor? Of course, there could be more guards inside. If so, they’d find out soon enough.
They crept along until they were directly below the balcony of what was supposed to be Vallus’ bedroom. The wooden balcony doors were flung open to the night and the dim light from the shaded lamps was enough to cast long shadows over the tree where Izar and Jeric hid. Izar pulled out his map and checked their position one last time.
“This should be it,” he whispered, folding the map and shoving it into his pocket. “Ready?”
“Ready,” Jeric whispered back, taking the weighte
d line from his belt.
Izar grinned and leaned back against the tree’s trunk to watch the show. Jeric stepped out, his tall, lovely body bracing as he swung the line until it was flying in a whistling circle. And then, sharp as a hunter loosing an arrow, he let it go. The line flew perfectly, the weight wrapping around the wooden balcony railing with a soft thunk. Jeric gave the rope a tug, and then turned to his captain. “After you.”
“You know,” Izar said, taking the rope with a lingering touch on Jeric’s hand. “I used to watch you throw these things back on the front. High point of day, usually.”
“Well, you always were a lech,” Jeric said, squeezing Izar’s rear as the captain hauled himself up.
“You like me best that way,” Izar whispered back. Winking rakishly, he started pulling himself hand over hand up the rope.
And the best part was, he knew he was right. He could feel the thrill his confession had given Jeric humming through the bond they’d forged that afternoon. Zoa had been right, it had faded a little from that initial rush, but not much. He could still feel them both, their bodies and their emotions, like they were extensions of himself. The connection was thrilling and deeply satisfying. Izar very much enjoyed being able to keep such easy contact with his lovers, especially when it would let him find new ways to thrill them.
He felt the flex of Jeric’s muscles like his own as the Chosen steadied the rope. He could feel Zoa as well, inside the house and below, on the first floor. Unlike Jeric, though, he couldn’t tell what she was feeling. At first, he’d thought it was distance, but that didn’t make sense. He’d been able to feel her in the palanquin, and he was closer now than he’d been then. No, it was like there was something in the way, a dark fog that kept him from touching her, and that bothered him.