by Kayla Stonor
His cock pressed hard into her stomach, one of his hands shifting to cup her buttock, adding pressure. Holding his chin, she kissed him, letting him take her weight. She closed her eyes and wrapped her legs around his thighs, ground her aching arousal on his hard ridge, taking her pleasure. She rocked against him, striking up new points of throbbing sensation, using his length to her full advantage, forcing a growl from his throat.
“I want you,” he said.
“Later.”
“Skal! You kill me.”
She gasped, pressed her nose to his ear and coaxed her climax closer. “Harder.”
Oltu thrust against her, and she rubbed harder upon him, a rhythmic pulse on an erotic crescendo that drowned her in sweet eruptions of carnal delight. She dug fingernails into his shoulders, shifted higher and pummeled the thick head of his cock. He lifted her, and now her thighs encircled his buttocks, her breasts above the water line. Gabrielle grabbed thick roots of hair and pressed his head down until his mouth enclosed one breast.
His tongue nudged her costume aside, his teeth grazed her nipple. Electric shocks sparked nerve endings she didn’t know existed and she cried out, desperate now.
“Oh god, don’t stop, don’t stop.”
He nipped her, tweaked and pulled.
Pleasure arced to her core. She peaked, a riotous chaotic rollercoaster sliced with sparking dots of pleasure as Oltu shifted his attention to her other breast. Her world exploded, she lost all control, immersed by the tsunami washing though her, cleansing, perfect, and so intense.
As the sensations passed and her limbs collapsed, Oltu guided her down. She felt water lapping her shoulders, cried tears as she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her nose against his ear.
“Take me back to my room.”
She barely noticed the journey back.
Oltu had wrapped her in a warm shawl, carried her in his arms, setting her on her bare feet only in the shafts. She knew his rigid member hadn’t abated, and that tension threaded his body, his attentions possessive, and yet she didn’t mind, relished his frustration, adored his control, and salivated over the thought of how she could torture him again—and more.
*****
Her pleasure filled Oltu with joy, a sense of accomplishment beyond his experience. He had given his female intense joy, played music on her temptress body, and he would walk the coals of the Sura K’la, bathe in the ice glaciers of Katar, to bring her this intensity of pleasure every day.
And so he endured the pain of sexual frustration.
His desire to service her needs ringed his blood-engorged straining cock more strongly than any device tucked away in his chambers, chained his mating Qui with titanium steel. He would give her anything she wanted—his body, peace, space, time, his attention. He would lay wealth and prestige at her feet, adorn her with the finest gemstones, cosset and cherish her.
“Wait,” Gabrielle whispered as they exited the shaft on the residence level. Her temptress eyes glowed, a seductive smile whispered on her lips. “Take me to your chambers.”
One half of his mouth quirked upward. He altered direction, taking a route that ensured complete privacy. He voice-secured his entry lock and then stood in the main room, cautious of making any assumption regarding Gabrielle’s intention.
She tapped his shoulder to let her down.
On her feet, she gathered the shawl he’d wrapped around her. “You carried me over the threshold.”
He sensed the words held significance beyond the obvious, but his translator had no additional information. “Are you thirsty? Water? Or something stronger?”
He opened the klai and poured a glass of the blue and orange wine. Different consistencies kept the two nectars apart, a gravity spinner at the bottom of the glass ensuring a spiraling motion.
Gabrielle’s eyes widened and she reached out for the fluted crystal, sniffing the wine’s aroma before taking a cautious sip. Her eyes watered and she coughed. “It’s very strong.”
He grinned and offered her a glass of water but she shook her head.
“This is fine,” she croaked.
Thirsty, intrigued, Oltu downed the water in one. “I did not expect to lure you here today.”
She waved her glass, close to spilling its contents. “During our discussion Saiorse mentioned you use certain implements. I want to see them.”
Oltu shook his head. “They are not for you.”
“You once thought they were.”
He had, when he’d been fixed on the chase, a need to satisfy his curiosity, a time before he began to care. The thrill of control, of bending another to his will, inflicting pain, paled against the feelings Gabrielle aroused. She stimulated his mating instinct, a desire to nurture and protect, to love...
Dare he trust his Qui instinct?
Mating presumed the procreation of offspring.
The discovery that the human physique could conceive offspring with functional Qui heredity offered new hope for propagation of his species, expansion of the Qui gene pool. Soon a human carrying Qui genes and the ability to shift would be born on Earth. The Qui gene assimilated alien genetic code, always dominating, with each new generation exhibiting a superior shifting ability. Would a human’s pheromones be so irresistible if their genetic code was not compatible? Oltu fully expected the child would prove Qui dominant.
Then the new Qui human alliance would hold true worth, and Oltu wanted Gabrielle for his human female, to know the joy of her bearing his child… He dare not frighten her away.
“I will never harm you.” He took a knee, a mating ritual, determined she understand the seriousness of his vow, only for Gabrielle to choke on her wine.
“Water!” she gasped.
He jumped up, poured her a fresh glass, clapping her back as she gulped the water. Oltu watched, discomfited. He’d exposed the depth of his feelings too soon and he suspected another frustrated night lay ahead. Using Saiorse for relief had given only fleeting satisfaction—he craved Gabrielle, not his tribute.
“I’m sorry, Oltu. You took me by surprise.”
Oltu poured a thumb of krah and slugged it back.
“I didn’t appreciate the depth of your feelings.” Distress threaded her words.
He nodded. “If you allowed culmination you would understand. We nearly shared that once before.”
“Culmination?” Her voice pitched high. “As in a telepathic connection to my mind? No! I won’t let you.” She grabbed his arm. “Is that what happened, that first night on this ship?”
“Your mind is open to me, we are compatible, exceptionally so, and you sensed this, threw up barriers–”
Alarm widened her eyes. “Can you read me now?”
“No. Culmination cannot be forced.” He fought off the heavy weight settling over him. Each question was a step away from him, every answer increasing her fear and distance. “As always, the decision is yours, but if you want to understand me, the depth of my feelings, I would give this to you.”
“Or you could talk to me! Tell me what’s in your heart.” Her eyes narrowed. “I know you have culminated with Saiorse. Anyone else?”
“I have three other tributes on my home world.”
“Three?”
“I am the First Lord, the first born of the Qui Emperor. It is my duty to accept tributes. This is a sacred practice among the Qui ruling families, often the only path for worlds outside the Empire to retain sovereignty and garner favor with the Royal Court of Katar. Your lack of understanding of our traditions creates incorrect assumptions about the nature of the tribute relationship.”
“Sonestra has only one.”
Oltu frowned. “I cannot speak for the Qui Empress. But I assure you, there are many worlds who would gladly offer tributes to my sister. Many have tried and suffered her denial. Would you begrudge these worlds entry to the court of Katar? It is my duty, my family’s duty, to uphold peace and stability. Accepting tributes is a vital part of the political process at court.”
/> “Are they all devoted to you? Your tributes?”
“Gabrielle, with the exception of Yulla, my tributes are willing and devoted. Tributes are honored among their worlds; their devotion guarantees favorable consideration for their entire race. Tributes enable their worlds to keep their independence and negotiate concessions from the Qui Empire. Where interests align, and a potential tribute is suitable for culmination, a treaty can be established. Denying worlds this opportunity fosters dissent. Qui tributes benefit billions of lives across the galaxy. They sacrifice personal freedom for their worlds, and most volunteer their service. Devotion is not love. It is obedience. Service. Sacrifice. Do not confuse your understanding of our relationship with the intricate politics of tributes. They are not the same.”
Gabrielle dropped onto a cushioned bench, her face unhappy, frowning into her empty glass. Oltu topped up her klai and placed it before her.
“You’ve never culminated with anyone who wasn’t a tribute?” she asked.
Oltu hesitated, realized he could not lie. “I culminated with Jaden.”
Her head snapped up. “You and Jaden?” She shook her head. “No, Jaden would never–” Her eyes widened. “Dad said you and Jaden had reached an understanding. Culmination doesn’t require sex?”
“Culmination is a sharing of body, mind, and spirit. There is no deeper understanding.”
Her eyes slated him with horror. “Did you force him?”
“No,” he stressed the point, “and it was at Jaden’s insistence.”
Her mouth dropped open, her expression frozen in shock.
Oltu identified—he’d struggled to take Jaden’s proposition seriously. Skal, he’d nearly gutted Jaden for the insolence, but Jaden’s desperation could not be mistaken, nor could Oltu dismiss the possibility that culmination might help locate his missing sister. In hindsight, that moment marked a turning point between Oltu and Earth’s tribute, a new respect Oltu no longer bothered to hide. “Jaden partook in an act he found distasteful for a higher purpose.”
“But you enjoyed it.” Her face darkened with accusation.
“Jaden’s animosity added a provocative quality I enjoyed.”
Taut facial muscles and a stiff back signaled Gabrielle’s disapproval.
“He reached an agreeable climax, nothing was forced. Jaden was better prepared this time.” Irritation edged his tone.
“This time?” Her eyes widened, alight with horror. “Oh my god! Sonestra shared Jaden with you!”
“That is the Qui custom. Tributes are trained to be available to members of the same House at all times. I tested Jaden’s worthiness to be tribute to the Qui Empress and he proved unready.”
Gabrielle jumped up, paced the room, a thunderstorm of fury. “Unready? Of course he wasn’t ready! I can’t believe this.”
“Our joining lasted a second. It was over before it began.”
“You act like it’s nothing, but you raped him!”
“Not possible.” Dismay mixed with anger at her charge. “Jaden submitted to my attentions as a devoted tribute should. Was he properly prepared? No, and I ended the encounter to prevent harm. A tribute is trained to exceptional standards, but Jaden deceived my sister, and that deception compromised his safety. Jaden is no victim. He worked to a higher purpose.”
“Words!”
Gabrielle practically stamped her foot. What? Did she believe he deceived her? Oltu clenched a fist, patience thinning.
“How can a tribute—property–” her lips curled with accusation, “consent to be shared at any time with anyone in your family who demands a quick fuck? On Earth, we call that a sex slave.”
“This is why tributes perform culmination, where emotions and intent cannot be hidden. You are judging me according to moral standards humanity has consistently failed to uphold, and then you dismiss fundamental Qui culture and tradition established for eons. You’ve never experienced a willing tribute’s submission and service on behalf of their race. It is a noble act of devotion. None can question General Jaden’s devotion to the Empress, a fact that underpins the independence of your planet! Our traditions and philosophies may be different, but we have discovered a common cause—”
“Jaden warned me about you.”
Oltu stilled. A terrible fury surged through him. He held his tongue, wanting to regain control before he spoke. Gabrielle stared; fear in her eyes, sensing she’d struck a mortal blow, not understanding how.
“When?” he asked, his voice harsh.
“Does it matter?”
“I would like to know. Tell me, don’t tell me, I will find out.”
“The conference at Central Command, after you and Jaden met with my father at his mountain residence.”
“I remember.” Oltu frowned. Jaden was still Sonestra’s tribute back then, not yet elevated to the position of Aphitor. “What did he say?”
“I think I want to go now.” Tears shone in her eyes.
“Why would he warn you?”
She looked to the door.
“Gabrielle? You and Jaden?” Oltu read the uncomfortable truth in her evasive expression and suddenly, Jaden’s intervention made sense, coming at a time when Jaden felt lost, rebellious, and resentful, especially of Oltu. Nothing could be hidden in culmination, and Jaden was always suspicious of Oltu’s motives, even now.
“If you culminated with Jaden, how don’t you know?” Gabrielle demanded.
“Culmination is a meeting of minds. I was focused on the emotions, feelings, and issues of the moment, not on interrogating Jaden’s every memory.”
His anger twisted to despair. The uphill battle to win Gabrielle’s trust stretched into a long, arduous future, a constant battle against the deeds of his past. His choices, his actions, shattered his chances of winning his mate—the woman he loved—before he had even found her. “You still have feelings for Jaden.”
She did not answer.
Chapter Eleven
Gabrielle prayed.
She prayed her mother was with her now, an angel, watching over her, watching over her brother on the planet below, its slumbering population unaware that a Qui warship lurked in orbit. The tension crackled on board the command bridge of the Thrak ‘Yla. Gabrielle sat alongside Commander Jsut, awaiting news from Oltu and Cale, alone with K’lahn who had been the enemy for so long, an alien race who stole her brother and sold him into slavery.
She rubbed hollowed eyes that ached after two nights of restless sleep, her conflicted feelings unresolved, consumed with worry over the upcoming mission, and a sinking feeling Oltu was pulling away from his infatuation with her. Suppose he had. Would he still support her mission to secure freedom for the humans trapped in a Dralexin mine?
She should have explained her relationship with Jaden.
Anger stopped her.
It wasn’t Oltu’s business. He wouldn’t understand how she could care for Jaden so deeply—how could she not?—and yet not love him, not like she had loved Cale. Jaden had been a passing fling. She needed a man to stop her going insane and Jaden fit the bill—safe, sinfully hot, and available. Their paths had briefly crossed and later she fell in love with the man who broke her heart, Cale. And yet from the way he was behaving, Oltu’s anger at her past with Jaden exceeded his rivalry with Cale Tennant, a man with whom she’d had sex a few days ago.
It was the only explanation she had for Oltu’s coldness, his withdrawal, but Oltu had no right to be angry. Two ripped men, natural enemies, each one sexy as hell, fighting it out in the bedroom—would be fucking hot, except Jaden didn’t swing that way, and so what Oltu had done went beyond the pale. Unless she accepted Oltu’s claim that Jaden had initiated their culmination, and how could she do that? Jaden had been under enormous pressure, fighting for his life, fighting to save the Empress he loved. She wished she could talk with Jaden, understand what made him do such a thing, but he’d hate baring his feelings over something so private, and then she’d have to explain why she hadn’t heeded his warning to stay aw
ay from Oltu.
Would he hate her? For desiring the one Qui who had caused him so much pain?
Cale’s voice made her jump, the line clear except for a hint of static. “Security breach located exactly where promised. Entering the mine now.”
Her stomach churned. Fuck, what was she doing?
She sat alone on the command bridge of a Qui warship surrounded by K’lahn and her thoughts weren’t even focused on the one man she should care about most—Ben. Oltu and Cale were out risking their lives to extract her brother. She had to stop rehashing this Jaden thing. Hell, Jaden would hate her even knowing he and Oltu had shared this weird culmination. He wasn’t about to debate the rights and wrongs of what happened between him and Oltu just because she twisted a mind fog over the manipulative scaly bastard.
*****
Oltu led the way, his superior Qui eyesight giving them a slight edge over Tennant’s digital eye lens. They breathed through air filters; their face masks a key accessory for their cover. Walls dripping with acid water steamed where veins of tellurium-rich magma cooled against a rock veined with zirconium, the mineral that made Dralexi so valuable. Workers exposed too long to the toxic gas succumbed to inhalation burns and respiratory dysfunction.
The mine was unbearably hot in human skin, even with the cooling system integral to the mining uniform they wore. Oltu suspected his more cold-blooded Qui form would also struggle. Both Qui and K’lahn favored solar heat for energy. On Katar, the Qui seat of power, the great audience hall stood open to Katar’s burning sun, a throwback to when the Qui’s gene pool was less diverse. This was a different heat and the intolerable conditions partly explained why this area of the mine was currently inactive. Work focused where lava had cooled, reducing the risk of structural collapse. After twenty minutes, they encountered a tunnel where the rock underfoot crumbled to a thick black grit under pressure.
Oltu pulled off his backpack and extracted the first of several null-sonic grenades. Tennant copied his action. They methodically worked a hundred strides of tunnel. Oltu drilled a hole to a depth equivalent to his arm, planted a grenade and refilled the cavity, stamping the gritty sand with his foot. Between them they placed twenty grenades.