Van Laven Chronicles: Shadow Reign

by Tyler Chase

  To his credit, Comron resisted the urge to inform Rogueport that one of his long-time business associates was cocking Rogueport’s barely legal daughter. No, he wouldn’t stray from the narrow path to a senior board seat. “You hold sway over a significant number of board votes which makes you kingmaker,” Comron said evenly, “so king me.”

  Rogueport’s face twisted in derision. “Impudent upstart. I wouldn’t waste my votes on you. Really, Van Laven, learn your place and show proper respect, and in time you may achieve something decent for Nothing … uh,” he snapped his fingers twice then pointed at him, “Nethic, isn’t it?” He shrugged, “Meh, who cares?”

  Now was the time to strike true. “In less than six weeks’ time you will lose half your net worth due to some unfortunate investments in what would appear to be sound territory. The nature of which will reverberate for years to come. You may even lose your seat as chairman as a result.”

  “Oh, what are you blathering on about now?” he said full of false bravado. Comron clearly read the fear in the man’s eyes as he’d already revealed an uncanny ability to call the right shots for Rogueport’s business. But was he bluffing now or was Rogueport truly about to be ruined?

  A little tap was all Rogueport required at this juncture. “Did it not strike you as odd that Duhal should suddenly declare his intention to retire years before the customary time?” Comron lifted his chin and looked down at Rogueport with a steely gaze.

  Rogueport’s nostrils flared and his chest heaved. Duhal’s sudden retirement had everyone speculating as to what had precipitated his untimely surrender of such a coveted role. “You have no idea what you’re meddling with, boy. Furthermore, that seat was promised to Lord Subellis long ago.”

  Comron cocked a brow. “Then it seems Subellis will have to learn to live with disappointment.”

  “That’s not how things are done,” Rogueport growled, taking a menacing step closer.

  At that moment, Comron caught sight of Spira waving him over. “The wife calls. It’s been a pleasure, Rogueport. Don’t say you weren’t warned.”

  As he started to move off, Rogueport seized him roughly by the arm. “Listen here, you putrid piece of guttershite—”

  Comron wrenched his arm free. “No, you listen. Make the announcement at tomorrow’s board meeting or be prepared to lose your seat along with all your blood money.”

  “You just think you’re so fucking clever, don’t you?” Rogueport seethed. “Flaunting our ways thinking there will be no repercussions. You should’ve been content with the subordinated board seat, just as you should’ve been content with that exquisite blond you’re parading around here.” An ugly grin formed on his lips. “But we all know you’ve set your sights on the empress, and therefore Dredfort and Warbrenger have set theirs on you. I for one want a ringside seat for the slaughter.”

  Comron matched his grin and leaned in. “Just see that the vote goes my way, Rogueport. In return, I’ll save your sorry ass.” With that, he left him and rejoined Spira’s party.

  Chapter 12

  Vaush sensed Comron at the false door well before she heard the handle turn. She sat on the divan, submersed in her dark mood with all manner of sordid images of Comron betraying their vows with Spira. She checked the chronometer. It was half past the tenth hour of the night!

  She ground her teeth and glared at him as he bounded through the door.

  “Dearest,” he said as he swept triumphantly into the room and dropped to his knees before her on the divan. “You wouldn’t believe the night I’ve had,” he said with eyes glittering, as he kissed her cheek. “It took some wrangling … but Nethic will have a senior board seat!”

  Vaush merely stared at him with her mouth clamped shut, suppressing the urge to spring into his arms and congratulate him. She knew it was a thing he desired greatly and what it would mean to Nethic. Their native boy had made good on his promises, and gradually Nethic would become the heart of the empire’s financial district.

  When she finally spoke, her tone was ugly, bitter. “Did you properly thank Spira for procuring the invitation and charming your friends all evening?”

  The light in his green eyes dimmed, and he stared at her blinking twice before he answered. “I thought you’d be happy for me, love. In a single night Nethic has as good as advanced into the realms of the Great Houses.”

  Her brow pinched together. “Thank goodness Spira was able to facilitate your triumph,” she said with acid in her voice. “Me? I’m nothing, just the fool who married you and will bear your children and place them upon the imperial throne so that all the world will bow down before House Van Laven. But no, let’s focus on what Spira has done for you.”

  Comron drew back, but then he caught sight of the nearly empty wine bottle and glass on the end table. “I’m sorry I’ve upset you so,” he said, his voice soothing, irritatingly so when she was being so nasty to him. “I didn’t intend to stay so long but there were details to be worked out with Rogueport. I had to spell out exactly how to save his company from ruin before I could secure his votes. But had I known your state of mind,” he nodded at the wine bottle, “I would have come home sooner.”

  Vaush pushed him away and rose from the divan. “What? And have everyone think that you and Spira aren’t the most deliriously happy couple of the century?” She turned sharply at him, her robes twirling around her. “How long must I endure this humiliation?” She was too angry to remember that Comron had sat home faithfully, night after night, as she was courted by Dredfort, Warbrenger, and Westfall—their every move plastered all over the socialite media platforms and debated ad nauseam on which one of them would marry the empress.

  “Vaush …,” he said still upon his knees. “Perhaps you should lie down and get some rest. It’s been a trying day.”

  “Oh, no, no,” she wagged a finger at him. “First, tell me. Did you see her home? Express your deep, penetrating gratitude to her? Confess, Comron, that was the real reason you were so late.”

  His expression fell to a look of pained incredulity. He placed his hand on the divan and rose to his feet. “In a month the Chronicle Archives will show you exactly what transpired tonight, and then you will know what you already know in your heart—that I haven’t, nor will I ever, be untrue to you.”

  Damn it! She felt the truth of his words and felt horrible for hurling the accusation in the first place. So why did she still feel like she wanted to tear something apart or destroy something?

  “I still hate that you were with her, that you let her touch you, and make the world believe that she shares your bed tonight!”

  “I know,” he said, remaining calm. “It’s exactly the way I feel every time you walk out the door to spend an evening with Phin, or Khale, or Dane. I must place my faith in you and know that you’d never do anything to betray that trust. Likewise, you must exercise faith in me.” He slanted his head at her. “But I can’t bear to cause you such pain. Let the gossips say what they will, I’ll never see Spira again.”

  Vaush shook her head as she paced the floor, refusing to be consoled when she felt so raw with anger. “You’ve no choice in the matter. Dredfort and the others would perceive it as confirmation of their worst fears. They’d try to kill you, Comron!”

  He lifted his chin. “Let them try. I don’t like what this is doing to you, it ends now.”

  Her anger turned inward, she couldn’t let him put himself in jeopardy over her insecurities. “I’m being foolish, but I just can’t stand the idea of hers or any other woman’s hands on you. All those whores sending you those vulgar, naked holographs of themselves, offering their bodies to you. I hate it!”

  He went to her and rubbed her arms. “I know, love.” He took her hands in his. “These are the only hands I crave upon my body, the hands of my empress.”

  Upon hearing those words, she closed her eyes and felt his thoughts pressing in, reassuring her of his love and fidelity, showing her there was no need to fear—not now, not ever.

/>   “Oh, Comron,” she said, succumbing to his telepathic comfort. “How is it that I’m the Supreme Sovereign of the Sellusion Empire and a highly trained assassin, but for the last two hours, I sat on the divan, staring at that door, utterly miserable and powerless to do a thing but count the seconds until you came through it? See how utterly wrecked I am over you.”

  A warm smile spread across his face as he brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers. “Oh, my angel. No matter how deeply I’ve fallen for you, you always manage to say something so completely wonderful that it makes me fall even more than I possibly thought I could.”

  Despite herself, Vaush felt the corners of her mouth twitch upward. He was home in her arms, he’d been true to her, and nothing else mattered. “So, congratulations on the superior board seat,” she said with a genuine smile. “I’m so very proud of you. All of Nethic will be so—”

  He placed a finger on her lips. “I don’t want to talk about that now.” His hands went to her shoulders, peeled the red satin robe back and let it slide to the floor. The matching gown clung to the curves of her body, leaving little to the imagination. The hungry look in Comron’s eyes re-ignited her own desire.

  His voice lowered to a more seductive range. “While you waited, tell me what you hoped I’d do when I walked through that door. Certainly, dressed like this, you had something specific in mind.”

  “Comron …,” she said, unable to hide her smile as she lowered her eyes.

  “Oh,” he arched a brow and grinned. “It was something very naughty. I like that.”

  She bit her lip as the warm, sensual feelings surged forth as his hands slowly caressed her body and he nuzzled her neck. “Did it start like this?” he whispered.

  Ohhhh … she’d been here dozens of times before with him, but knowing what lie in store for her only made her want him even more—that slow, tantalizing touch that would build to a crescendo, culminating in a moment of planet-shattering bliss.

  She’d been so dreadful to him, why was he being so good to her now? He gently pressed her back toward the same divan she’d waited upon all night. “Is this where you sat … waiting for me?” he asked, guiding her to sit, never taking his eyes off her. “Is this what you hoped I’d do?” He went down upon his knees before her. His hands slid underneath her red lace nightgown and up her silky smooth, tanned thighs. He leaned forward kissing her tenderly at first before opening his mouth to hers, sliding his tongue in tentatively, making her more eager for it.

  He could be such a devastating tease.

  She ran her fingers through his hair, clutched a handful, and pulled him forth to devour him with two hours’ worth of frustrated passion. This magnificent, beautiful creature belonged to her, and she’d destroy anyone who tried to take him away. His hands were making their way up her outer thighs to the bend of her hip. He lifted her gown higher up her torso until her full, uplifted breasts were exposed. Her nipples were stiff with anticipation as his mouth hovered near. His tongue flicked out teasing the nipples even harder. He pulled the gown up over her head, tossed it aside, and gazed at her. She was naked now save the tiny pair of red lace panties that caught his eye.

  He gripped the sides of her hips. “Wearing red at midweek … I’ll have to punish you for that.” He nibbled her lip a bit and then drew back. His eyes poured hungrily over her and his hands followed. Her heated flesh was sensitive to his touch, coming to life everywhere his hands roamed. His mouth was on her again, his tongue hot between her breasts but he kept moving downward and urged her to lie back on the soft pillows even as he shifted her hips forward toward him.

  “Is this what you wanted, love?” he voice was husky with desire.

  He kissed her soft, flat belly, sucking and biting gently, even as his strong hands massaged her breasts, kneading those dark nipples between his fingers. “Mmm,” she moaned softly as she stroked his raven hair, believing she could lie here forever, letting Comron do as he pleased to her body, for as long as it pleased him to do so.

  And when his mouth began the slow tantalizing descent below her naval to the small patch of red lace covering her sex, she lifted her hips instinctively, almost embarrassed at her ardent need. He spared a moment to look at her with those smoldering green eyes and a wicked grin on his lips. He held her gaze as he slowly pulled aside the lace patch of her panties, exposing the slickness beneath, making the act all the more elicit and her wetter … just the way he liked her.

  His tongue felt divine as he gave her a long, tantalizing lick. “Mmm,” he licked his lips. “I love the way you taste.”

  She closed her eyes and moaned, “More … please.”

  His head went down again and she fisted a handful of his hair and moaned aloud. His long fingers slid inside her, adding their efforts to the work of his skillful tongue. Oh, damn, she thought as she began moving her hips against his mouth. But he held her thighs in an iron grip, forcing her to be still. She would come when he wanted her to, not a second before. She’d learned early on that Comron craved control in the bedroom, and that she simply craved him any way she could have him.

  And it was such sweet torture as he increased his pace, taking her to the brink of ecstasy, only to slow down or break away to trace hot kisses down her inner thighs.

  “Oooh … my lord husband is so cruel,” she groaned, unable to move her hips, unable to do a damn thing but enjoy the pleasure he brought her so adeptly.

  He lifted his head. “You must be punished,” he said, right before he began sucking her tender bud. Her back arched as she grabbed his hair. Frithes gates! She would come that instant if only he’d let her. She was so close.

  Suddenly, he rose up with a great sense of urgency. She caught sight of his stiff, throbbing cock and knew he had driven himself equally mad with desire. He climbed atop her on the divan and drove his shaft deep inside her, burying it to the hilt.

  “Ohhh, ahhh!” Vaush cried out as he pulled back and thrust forward again and again, his back and hips rising and falling, rolling in a perfect fluid motion. His breath was hot in her ear, the sweet musk of her still fresh on him. He maneuvered his hand down between them, so his thumb could rub rhythmically against her swollen bud as he rode her magnificently. Have mercy! She could endure it no longer, her body tensed, all feeling and thought converged on that one spot. Oh God, just … one … more ….

  “Come now!” he growled in her ear.

  Her body obeyed the command without hesitation, her hips convulsed forward as the orgasm broke forth and spread throughout her body, down to her toes. His orgasm followed three strokes later leaving them both spent and immensely satisfied. As they held each other in the afterglow, Vaush felt delightfully happy, grateful, and loved.

  “Did I mention I got the senior board seat?” Comron murmured in her ear.

  Vaush’s body shook with laughter. “Well done, my lord. Well done.”

  Chapter 13

  The Honored Lady Anbelise Nostrom walked with her cousin, the former Supreme Prince, Thalonius Hrollaugr, in the gardens of Gretchen Hall and tried to ignore the presence of General Grusonious Hrollaugr alongside them. After nearly a year of refusing to take his calls, why couldn’t he take a hint and leave her alone? She knew he’d intentionally left that hideous scar on his face as a stark reminder of her betrayal some five years back and as a symbol of the emotional scars she’d left him.

  “Vlodostok and Shinzhao have been engaged in trade with the empire for decades now, I hardly see the need for your concern,” Thalonius said in an irritable tone. Ever since he’d lost his throne, he descended deeper into his moroseness even as he grew obsessed with finding some means to unseat the empress. Discussing the economy was the least of his concerns.

  “First of all we can’t forget that there was a huge security breach that resulted in all of our operatives in Vlodostok being expelled from their post if not outright murdered. This coincided with the sharp uptick in activity between Vlodostok and the energy sector,” Anbelise stated. “In additi
on, suddenly Warbrenger has mysteriously begun detecting our surveillance devices that they’ve been oblivious to for months. I’m certain there is a new player on the field with very deep pockets, moving incognito, brokering large lucrative deals in non-richya currencies. I have a strong hunch that somehow these events are all connected.”

  “Oh, what do I care if some backwaters worlds are settling trades in non-richya. They can never rival the might of the existing Hegemony. We could crush them with the wave of a finger.”

  “That may have been the case as of a decade ago, but now the Hegemony is losing its grip on fiscal policy and the power it exerts over the rest of the system,” Anbelise said and tried to ignore General Grusonious’ intense gaze. “Warbrenger has sensed it for some time and seems to be pivoting away from the Hegemony toward the Hinter Worlds. And now this rogue player has negotiated some critical deals for energy and agriculture with Vlodostok and Shinzhao.”

  Thalonius scoffed. “As long as we control the head of the shelon industry, Lord Ahmed, and he only accepts richya as payment, the Hegemony remains king. Besides even Vlodostok and Shinzhao bend their knee to Hegemony in order to gain access to our financial markets. We can make them heel by threatening them with stiff economic sanctions.” He looked at her and pursed his lips. “Really, Anbelise you and your conspiracies. Even as a child, you were this way. No wonder you do so well in your chosen field,” he said and glanced conspicuously at Grusonious.

  “My success in military intelligence is due to my hard work and diligence, as well as my instincts and intuition, dear cousin,” she replied archly, feeling Grusonious’ eyes upon her. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a severe ponytail, her pale, alabaster skin bore precious little make up, her full lips bore no color other than the natural, the same applied to her soft brown eyes. Working in a male dominated field, she found it advantageous to play down her feminine assets to minimize the differences. Even now, she wore slacks with her uniform even though a skirt was customary for the females. She kept her body fit and taut as any of the other hard-bodied males. But there were the very few, like General Grusonious, who’d managed to pry the lid off to find the passionate woman beneath. She glanced at the scar, to his peril, she thought as she looked away.