Tales of the Shareem, Volume 2

by Allyson James

  “I can’t stand it,” she sobbed. “Calder.”

  “Yes, you can. You’re strong, my Katarina.”

  “I can’t. I have to stop.”

  “But you gave the Beast permission to do whatever he wants.”

  “Yes . . .”

  “This is what he wants. You, screaming your pleasure underneath him, while the Beast fucks and fucks you.”

  Katarina arched back, cries leaving her throat. Calder’s words dwindled to sounds and he rode her even faster. She was sure she’d die of what he did to her, but she clung to him, wanting more.

  Calder’s own cry of need was loud in the room, and he kept thrusting, saying her name over and over.

  The game of ravishing beast dissolved, and Katarina was simply a woman being loved by a hot-bodied man.

  “I love you!” Katarina laughed while she said it. “Calder, I love you so much.”

  Calder furrowed her hair with his fingers, head bowed, eyes closed, jaw clenched as he rode out his climax.

  “Damn,” he whispered as he started to slow. He opened his eyes, his skin covered with sweat and lingering dampness from the bath. “What the fuck did you say to me?”

  “I said I love—”

  Calder clamped his hand over her mouth. “The word love is not allowed in this bed. I’ll have to paddle your ass if you say it again.”

  Wicked joy shot through her, and Katarina laughed. “Love,” she babbled against his fingers. “Love, love, love, love.”

  Calder withdrew, caught her ankles, and turned her over. His hot hand covered her buttocks. “And what a nice ass it is. With the plug in, still tight and safe.”

  “Mmm.” The air cushioned her, Calder warmed her, and his hand making circles on her butt made Katarina clench in delighted anticipation.

  Then his touch went away. Before Katarina could moan in disappointment, she heard a noise in the air—and then the sting of leather slashed across her ass. “Ow!”

  She tried to sit up, indignant, but Calder’s strong hand on her back kept her down. He smacked her five more times, then his hands came down to soothe her.

  “Do you like that?” he asked her, voice savage. “Do you like me whipping you, my Katarina?”

  “Yes,” she murmured, then “Yes!” in a shout as the strap slapped her again.

  The initial pain spread into hot tingles, and by the time he’d given her a dozen more swats, she was squealing, joy pouring over her like a waterfall.

  Calder soothed her skin with his hands and some more of the sweet-scented oil, then he rolled her over again.

  As Katarina lay back, catching her breath, Calder carefully fitted small, padded clamps to her nipples, each one pinching just enough to stimulate but not hurt. A little chain hung between them.

  He took away the vibrator—sadness—and replaced it with a similar clamp on her clit. Then he leaned down and flicked the clamp with his tongue.

  Katarina thought she couldn’t come any more, but she did under his fluttering tongue, and Calder licked her clean.

  He turned her over again, her body floating in the thick but permissive air, and tethered her wrists to the bedposts.

  Katarina turned her head to look back at him. She was exhausted and excited at the same time, her voice hoarse now. “You just happened to have manacles and a whip in your pockets when you came up the hill?”

  “I brought them for you,” Calder said. “I was coming up here to see you for a purpose.”

  “Oh?” Katarina swallowed. “What purpose?”

  His eyes were hot as he looked down at her, his scowl pulling the scars on his face. “To punish you for disappearing and not telling me where you were going.”

  His rage was true. The fact that he’d come after her, looking for her, made her heart squeeze in both pain and happiness. “I didn’t think you’d care.”

  Calder stared down at her for a long moment, emotions chasing through his eyes. Then he leaned to her, his breath hot on her cheek.

  “Oh, Katarina, you so need to be spanked again.”

  “But really . . .” Katarina put a hand on his shoulder. “You made it clear you only had a woman once. Why would I think I was any different?”

  Calder’s look turned quiet. “Because we hadn’t finished.”

  “Are we finished now?”

  They’d had full sex—but then, they’d done that in his bedroom, in his apartment.

  His brows came down. “I’ll let you know when I’m finished with you, Katarina. How long have I been here?”

  Katarina blinked. “Four days.”

  “Four.”

  She didn’t answer. She’d watched in anguish while he’d fought the cure, wondering if she’d been right, or whether she’d killed him. Losing him would be the worst thing that had ever happened to her. Which was why she’d lost any trepidation about what Calder could do to her here, or about telling him she loved him.

  Calder put his lips close to her ear. “That means I have four days to make up for—for you to make up for.”

  Maybe there was still a little trepidation. “What . . . exactly does that mean?”

  “I think you can guess what that means.”

  Calder rose away from her, and fastened her ankles to the bed as well.

  More sting of the lash, this time harder, and after that, Calder plied his tongue all over her pussy, clit, and ass. When Katarina was moaning and screaming from the pleasure of it all, Calder gently worked out the plug.

  Katarina relaxed against a bite of disappointment, but she felt loose and pleasantly tired. “Are you going to enter me there?” she asked sleepily.

  “Am I going to what?”

  Katarina looked back at him. Calder knelt behind her, watchful. Night was coming, the sun had gone, and the garden was darkening. Katarina still hadn’t ordered the lights, liking being in the dusk with her lover.

  “Enter me.” Her face grew hot. “In my ass.”

  Calder watched her a moment longer, then reached out and soothed her skin. “Not yet, baby. You won’t be ready for a little while. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “I thought the Beast didn’t care.”

  He leaned down, his body hot on her back. “The Beast has gone away, sweetheart. He’s left you tied down and exhausted from sex, for anyone to find.”

  “Are you leaving?” she asked in disappointment.

  “I didn’t say that.” Calder drew his tongue down her spine, all the way to her buttocks. He dipped between them and inside.

  Katarina squirmed again at the hot, wet feeling. She wanted it to go on—she wanted him.

  Calder lifted his head, taking his wonderful tongue away. “I could call Braden to come up here and find you like this. Would you like that? Him finding you and doing whatever he wanted to you?”

  Katarina had a flash of vision—Braden smiling wickedly and saying, “Now, what have we got here?” as he ran his fingers down her back. Calder would watch her, his erection evident.

  But she knew what she wanted. “Not right now. I want it just you and me.”

  “Meaning you might want Braden later?”

  “Only if you would. If it gave you pleasure too.”

  Calder stilled. “Why should you care whether I get pleasure from it?” His voice was quiet. “I’m Shareem.”

  “I think I’ve told you why.”

  Calder looked at her for a long time, his eyes glittering in the darkness.

  Then he stood up abruptly and slapped her ass. “I’m calling Braden,” he said, and strode away from the bed.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Why the hell did she make everything so complicated? Calder grabbed his undertunic as he left the room, his heart beating so hard it made him sick.

  Why couldn’t Katarina keep . . . whatever this was . . . about Calder pleasuring her—like what she’d wanted when she’d come to his lair in the first place? Let her have the Beast, and let Calder the Shareem remain distant.

  When Katarina started talking abo
ut love, Calder’s brain turned soft. He didn’t know what to do, how to answer.

  Because he knew he loved her back.

  Damnation. He couldn’t. It was stupid. Dangerous. The way to more pain than he’d ever felt in his life.

  He strode past the open bathroom door, pulling his tunic over his head. Movement inside caught his eye, the dark form of another man. Another large, Shareem-shaped man. Calder stopped.

  Braden? What the hell? Maybe Katarina had already asked him to come up here, maybe she’d asked him to hide here and save her from the Beast if necessary. Calder went hot with anger.

  But a second look showed Calder that no other Shareem stood there at all—he’d glimpsed his own body in the bathroom’s mirrored wall as he’d passed. But something seemed off.

  “Lights,” he said as he went into the bathroom. “Lights full.”

  The lights came on, bright but not glaring. This was, after all, the house of a rich woman, and even the overhead lights were elegant.

  The mirror reflected a tall Shareem with broad shoulders, a square face, and mussed black hair. He had Shareem-blue eyes, and his arms were brown and strong, corded with muscle.

  Calder pulled the tunic from his body. He saw a chest carved with muscle—prominent pecs and a tight, ripped abdomen. A long cock hung between muscled thighs. Black hair curled across his chest and down his arms, with a hint of it between his legs.

  Itching. Not just healing, the hair hurriedly growing from cells that had been dormant for twenty years.

  Calder hadn’t paid attention to his skin while he’d pleasured Katarina, having seen it scarred when he’d first got up. He’d awakened after surgery too many times in the past with no change to believe it would work.

  The Shareem who looked back at him from the mirror was healthy and whole. A few scars remained over the places where Dr. Laas had replaced his organs, but the rest of his skin bore only a little pinkness.

  Calder looked back at a body he’d not seen in twenty years. An arrogant shit, but a man who’d known no horrifying pain, no darkness in his soul.

  Katarina had given that back to him.

  Calder bent his head and covered his face with his hands.

  *** *** ***

  Katarina found Calder in the bathroom, in front of the large mirrored wall, his head bowed, the heels of his hands pressed to his eyes.

  “Calder?”

  He looked up at her. His hard gaze met hers in the mirror, and two tears streaked down his face.

  “What did you do?” he demanded, voice harsh. “What the fuck did you do?”

  Katarina wet her lips. “It’s a procedure I learned about after I started treating Shareem. Nano-biology and growth hormones. I wasn’t sure it would work on you, so I played with it. Made it to be boosted by the incredible metabolism of Shareem. Shareem bodies are excellent at converting intake into energy and then burning it off slowly, like very efficient fuel. It’s why your aging process is so slow, and why you need so much sex—letting off steam, as it were. From your skin sample, I was able to marry the metabolic codes in your DNA with the nano-technology, and then inject it back into you.”

  Her babbled explanation died off into silence. Calder said nothing, only stared at her, his eyes hard, red-rimmed. The silence pressed, and Katarina twisted her hands together.

  “More than you wanted to know? Truth to tell, I wasn’t sure it would work.”

  “You weren’t sure.” His voice, instead of being cracked and broken, came out smooth and velvet, as it had over the enhanced vocal system in his lair.

  “I knew you wouldn’t sit still while I tested it on you little by little, so I gave you the whole dose at once. I’d planned to track you down in Pas City, but when you turned up at my gate, I saw my opportunity.”

  “What were you going to do, sneak up behind me at Judith’s bar and empty a hypo into my neck?”

  “Something like that.”

  Calder turned, his gaze burning. She’d never felt anything like that heavy stare, even though his face was still wet with tears.

  Then he started to laugh.

  Laughter echoed across the bathroom and boomed into the hall. Calder swept Katarina into his arms and spun her around and around, laughing like a maniac.

  “You crazy, stubborn, insane woman. Why are you so interested in a wreck like me?”

  Katarina looked at him uncertainly. “Does that mean you’re happy I did this?”

  “You have to be the most fucked-up woman I’ve ever met.” He slowed the spinning and set her back on her feet. “Why, Katarina? Why waste so much on a Shareem?”

  “I’ve told you why. Repeatedly. You don’t like me saying it.”

  Calder caught her face in his hands and kissed her. The kiss turned hard, lips and tongue taking what he wanted. She might have made his body whole, but he was still the Beast inside.

  His skin was hot, the cure still working on him. Any human male would be flat on his back, groaning with the intensity of it. Calder smiled, kissed her, laughed.

  Katarina eased back from the kiss to admire her work.

  His skin was as whole and sleek as Braden’s, though Calder was a little taller than Braden, a little broader of shoulder. A giant of a man. A few scars remained where he’d been rebuilt, organs outward, but the rest of his skin was tight and smooth.

  His face—it was incredible. He’d pulled his hair out of the way, revealing strong bone structure, the lift of his cheekbones, the entirety of his slow smile. Katarina had been right—his smile made him beautiful, sexy, amazing.

  “Let me thank you,” he said.

  Katarina smiled, blushing as she reviewed the events of the last few hours. “I thought you had been thanking me.”

  “No, I’ve been punishing you for leaving Pas City without my permission.” Calder slid his hands down to cup her backside through the silk dressing gown she’d thrown on. “Thanking you will be different.”

  She shivered. Calder angry at her had been exciting. What would he be like when he was happy with her?

  He leaned close, his voice strong, his hands hot. “We have unfinished business. I never did to you all that I’d planned in my lair.”

  Katarina thought of it—the black-walled room, the sleek sound of the fountain, the candles, Calder in the darkness.

  “You said you were done with your lair,” she said softly.

  “Done with being a whore there,” Calder said. “Not done with you.”

  “Well.” Katarina smoothed her hand across his chest, finding healed flesh and a dusting of wiry curls. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind going back there.”

  He caught her hand, kissed it. “You’re brave.”

  Katarina looked up into eyes that showed her shock and uncertainty, but also that something had untwisted inside him, a darkness that had gripped him for too long. Calder was stunned, scared, and elated all at the same time.

  “I’m brave when it comes to you,” she said.

  He laughed again, the sound sexy and velvet dark. “I’m going to enjoy making you regret your trust.”

  Katarina had the feeling she’d enjoy it too. “We’ll see,” she said, squeezing his fingers. “But there’s something I think you should do first.”

  *** *** ***

  Braden walked into Judith’s bar as darkness fell on Pas City, still fighting a hangover. Katarina’s leaving for weeks had made the apartment feel empty, so he’d filled it every night with sex. One woman, two, three—he’d entice whoever he could back home with him and go at it all night. As a result, the apartment was a mess and his head hurt like hell.

  Judith gave Braden a warm smile as he crossed the threshold and croaked a request for water. Judith looked as sexy as ever tonight. Maybe after his head stopped pounding, he’d take her upstairs.

  A Shareem he didn’t know sat at the table in the corner. He’d taken the chair against the wall, the one reserved for the rare times Calder showed up.

  Arrogant asshole. He leaned back, watching B
raden with waiting eyes. He wore a simple white, tight tunic that bared his arms, typical for many Shareem. The tunic emphasized that he was big and built. Aiden would probably give the man a once-over, if only to make Ky jealous.

  Braden rubbed his forehead, willing the headache to die. “Hey, Judith, who’s this?”

  Judith grinned as she set Braden’s mug of water on the table across from the other Shareem. Her eyes held excitement. Maybe the Shareem shit had already coerced Judith upstairs. Bastard.

  “Don’t you know?” Judith asked him.

  Braden peered at the Shareem, wishing his head didn’t hurt so much. He gulped water, blinking away the bleariness.

  “He has a hangover,” the strange Shareem said. The voice was warm and rich, somehow familiar. “How many women was it last night, Braden? Your record is five. How drunk did you have to get them?”

  “Hey, friend, who the hell—”

  Braden’s fingers went cold and the mug of water crashed to the floor. The Shareem smiled at him, something Braden had never seen on that particular Shareem’s face. But he knew the eyes that gazed at him so sardonically, the mocking tone of voice.

  “Calder?”

  Calder gave him a nod. “Braden.”

  “What the fuck?”

  “You act like you’ve never seen me before.”

  “I haven’t.” Braden looked the man up and down, trying not to let his jaw drop.

  The only time Braden had seen Calder’s full body—weeks ago when Braden had gone to Calder’s apartment to help Katarina—it had been covered with pink-white flesh and ruined with scars. His features had been pulled and distorted, everything wrong-looking.

  This man looked like any Shareem born out of a DNAmo vat. Strong body, brown skin, clear blue eyes. Even his hair looked sleeker, healthier.

  “Shit,” Braden said. “She did it. Katarina did, didn’t she?”

  “Did you know about it?”

  “No. But she’s a fucking genius. Where is she?”

  “At my apartment,” Calder said. “She wanted me to come here alone, to see if you’d recognize me. You failed the test.”

  “You bastard.” Braden wanted to laugh and laugh.

  Calder had fooled him all right, the shithead. Braden had been friends with Calder for years, and it had always bothered him that he couldn’t help the man, that deeply fucked-up Shareem.