Tales of the Shareem, Volume 2

by Allyson James

  *** *** ***

  “There.” Braden tossed the handheld across the table in the bar to Rees. “Hope it’s helpful.”

  Rees, a tall Shareem with blond hair and a stern look that could dissolve quickly into a smile, especially when he was around his lady, took up the handheld.

  “What’s wrong with you?” he asked Braden, giving him a shrewd look.

  Braden shrugged and planted himself on a stool. “Nothing’s wrong. I got the info you wanted. It was all there, like you said.”

  Flight information on every cargo ship on and off Bor Narga for the last six months. Routes, lines, scheduled and unscheduled, official or unofficial.

  “The librarian’s thumbprint, not yours?” Rees asked.

  “Yeah, yeah. And she doesn’t know my name.”

  “You futzed the time stamp?”

  “Just like you showed me. There’ll be no record of Shareem on that terminal, and any records of that search will make it look like they happened before I showed up.”

  Rees was good at figuring out shit like that. While Braden was level three, Rees was no level anyone understood. Rees had been an experiment, a Shareem made of all three levels combined. His creators at DNAmo never should have made him, had gone one step too far—or so the stuck-up bitches that ran the planet of Bor Narga said.

  The scientists had fucked themselves when they’d created Rees. Rees had been so good, so smart, and so resourceful that he’d escaped, and that escape had been the catalyst that brought down DNAmo.

  The Shareem had found themselves free of the labs, free of being sold to the highest bidder. Free, period.

  The Bor Nargan government had then wanted to hunt down and slaughter all Shareem. That decision had been voted down as a bit too cruel. Barely. So Shareem were allowed to live, but restricted as hell and not considered human.

  Rees didn’t officially exist. No Shareem called Rees appeared on any records and in any databases. Even patrollers seemed to not notice him when they got hot to check the ident card of every Shareem who passed. He was that good.

  The nonexistent Shareem now frowned across the tall table at Braden and signaled Judith to bring them drinks.

  “So what’s wrong?” Rees asked him.

  Braden thanked Judith for the ale she set in front of him, and she turned away, too busy at the moment to talk or flirt.

  “Nothing,” Braden said. “I didn’t like using her, that’s all.”

  Rees started to grin. “Let me guess. She was gorgeous, right?”

  Chapter Two

  Braden wasn’t in the mood for joking. “Damn straight she was. And she was nice to me. No—wait, not nice. Fair. She didn’t like a Shareem in her library, but she wanted to honor the new rules and help me.”

  “You liked her.”

  “I don’t like thinking about her taking flack for any shit that comes from this,” Braden grumbled. “It’s not her fault she was behind the desk when I walked in.”

  Rees took a sip of ale. “How about if I point out that it’s highborn women like her who put us in this situation in the first place?”

  “Doesn’t help. Besides, you’re talking out your ass, because your lady Talan is one of the highest of the highborns.”

  Rees laughed. Talan d’Urvey was in love with Rees, would do anything for him. “Yeah, that’s true. Tell you what. Once things cool down, you can go back to your librarian and repay her. Give her a night she’ll never forget. Be her lifelong guilty secret. Better still, do it in the library after it’s closed.”

  “Can’t,” Braden said, gripping his ale. “She’s a celibate.”

  Rees’s brows went up. “In training?”

  “No. She’s already jumped off that cliff. I saw her robes. The Way of the Something-or-Other. Fully initiated.”

  Rees’s expression dissolved into commiseration. “Ah, now I understand why you’re so tetchy. My advice—go to the pools, forget Lady Celibate and hook up with a Shareem groupie. Sate yourself, make your brain stop boiling. You’ll be fine.”

  “Fuck you,” Braden said, but in a calmer tone.

  Rees was such a hypocrite. If Braden had suggested to Rees that he forget about Talan and get over her by sating himself on another woman, Rees would look at Braden as though he’d gone crazy.

  Rees was partly right, though. Braden couldn’t have his librarian. She was celibate, off-limits. End of story.

  Braden still wanted to compensate her, though, for what he’d done. Shareem had been bred in vats by coldhearted geneticists for other people’s use. Braden had been experimented on, operated on, and stuck full of shots every time he turned around. He knew what it felt like to be used for other people’s agendas.

  Braden had caused a lot of trouble at DNAmo. He’d resisted taking his inoculations—which included sedatives and other creative drugs. If a woman they threw to him for sexual experiments was too afraid of him, Braden would refuse to touch her. This resulted in punishment to Braden, but like hell he’d hurt the lady in question.

  The stupid researchers never understood that level three wasn’t about obedience and pain—it was about care, protection, and trust. The researchers expected to watch Braden put the woman in her place, but it didn’t work that way. If the lady had real fear, Braden refused to exploit it.

  The handlers would beat him with shock rods and give him more inoculations when he wouldn’t cooperate, but so be it. Braden was strong enough to stand the punishment, but some of the ladies who’d signed up for the experiments weren’t strong enough to take Braden, and he’d known that.

  Shareem were supposed to be docile and do what they were told, until time to perform whatever sexual acts their clients wanted. Then they were to be the ultimate sex toy—until playtime was over. Then it was back to their rooms, sated and obedient.

  Yeah, that had worked.

  Braden had been created for other people’s use, and the fact that he had used the pretty librarian for his own need left a bad taste in his mouth.

  He finished his ale, left the table and made his way across the room to the little hallway that held Judith’s public terminal.

  Braden put a call through to Rylan and asked him to pretty please make him a singing sphere. A very special one.

  *** *** ***

  Two weeks after the Shareem had appeared in her library, Elisa returned home from her shift to find an opaque white box sitting on the table in her foyer.

  “What’s this?” she asked Alonda, her housekeeper, as the woman walked briskly through the hall.

  Alonda stopped. “I believe it’s a box, m’lady.”

  “Very funny. Where did it come from?”

  “Delivered by mail. Before that, I have no idea.” Alonda turned away and continued toward her domain in the back of the house, leaving Elisa alone.

  Well, there was only one way to find out. Elisa set down her bag, slid off her sun-blocking robes, and touched her thumbprint to the pad on the crate to indicate that she, the designated recipient, accepted the package.

  Air hissed, and the sides of the crate slid back. Elisa’s mouth dropped open.

  A globe of pure crystal, shot through with myriad color, rested on a velvet stand inside the box. A white light pulsed at the center of the globe, as though the heart of it whispered to her.

  A singing sphere.

  By all that was holy, a singing sphere.

  Larger than those she’d seen for sale for stupendous prices in Serestine galleries, this crystal had been mounted on a natural stone base, beautiful sandstone from the desert mountains. Etched into the stone were the words, For Elisa n’Arell, with thanks.

  She remembered the deep, velvety voice of the Shareem in her library, the Shareem she’d thought about every minute of every day since she’d met him.

  My friend makes them, he’d said in an offhanded way about the singing spheres, his blue eyes mesmerizing. And Elisa had said, I’ve always wanted one.

  Elisa hadn’t told the Shareem her name. But the infor
mation wouldn’t have been difficult for him to discover. She was listed at the front door of the library as well as on the library’s fact site as head of reference, and she’d been sitting at the reference desk.

  How the Shareem had discovered her name wasn’t a mystery. Why he’d sent the sphere was.

  Elisa reached out and touched the crystal.

  The sphere whispered with sound, growing more musical by the second. Ripples filled the air like a sweet chime. Beautiful.

  This was an exquisite work of art and worth a fortune. And the Shareem had simply given it to her.

  Alonda hurried back into the room. “M’lady, what . . .” She stopped. “Oh, how lovely. The Way of the Sky let you buy this? How nice of them.”

  “No, it’s a gift. To me. For something I did for someone at the library.”

  Alonda looked impressed. “Generous. It will look nice in that nook.” She pointed to a bare niche across from the front door. “Always thought that wall was too blank.”

  “I shouldn’t keep it.” But it would break Elisa’s heart to let it go.

  Part of the code of the Way of the Sky was to live simply. The women of the Way were to meet basic needs comfortably but without ostentation. Elisa was fine with the restrictions, liking her small house with its clean design and empty spaces. It was peaceful.

  Singing spheres were considered luxuries. They were hideously expensive and entirely impractical. But so beautiful.

  Alonda lifted the sphere in its base, carried it to the niche, and set it inside. “There. That looks nice.” She admired it a moment then took up the empty crate and carried it away.

  Elisa studied the sphere as the waves of music sweetened the room. An amazing gift.

  She walked down the hall to her study and sat at her terminal. Typing in her personal code, she gained clearance to the Ministry of Non-Human Life Forms’ database, and called up the files on Shareem.

  *** *** ***

  “Braden’s House of Sex,” Braden rumbled as he keyed on his terminal. “I know all your desires and how to make them real . . . Well, shit.”

  He trailed off when he found himself staring into the brown eyes of Elisa n’Arell, the pretty librarian who’d filled Braden’s dreams for the last two weeks with the dirtiest fantasies he’d ever conceived.

  “Hey there, sweetheart,” he said, forcing himself to sound casual. “I guess you found me.”

  Elisa wet her lips, making him want to lean through the terminal and wet them for her. “You sent me the singing sphere.”

  Braden raised his hands. “Guilty.”

  “Why?”

  “Why not? You said you wanted one, and I can get them. Easy.”

  “But you shouldn’t have.”

  Elisa didn’t say that in the pleased way a woman tittered over a bauble—Oh, you shouldn’t have! Elisa really meant that Braden shouldn’t have done it.

  “If you refuse it you’ll offend Rylan,” Braden said. “He made it especially for you. Plus, you’ll offend me, who bribed him into doing it.” I might have to spank you, darlin’.

  He could feel her sweet ass under his palm already. Firm little buttocks, oh, so good. She’d squirm and squeal, and her skin would turn prettily pink.

  Elisa did the lip-wetting thing again. “I want to meet you.”

  Hell yes.

  Except—celibate. Forbidden. “Come on, sweet baby, don’t tease your Shareem.”

  “I meant that I want to talk to you. Where can we meet?”

  In my bedroom, in an alley, in a garden. Wherever you want, honey. “Your library’s a good place.”

  “No,” she said quickly. “And not my house, either. Someplace neutral.”

  Nothing was neutral when a Shareem was involved.

  But having the librarian come to Pas City where Braden lived was a bad idea. Not only might the slums scare a sweetie like her away, Rees wouldn’t be happy.

  The last two weeks had been quiet—no patrollers asking why Braden had been to an uptown library, no one connecting the information Braden had snagged from the library terminal to Shareem. But still, Rees wanted to be careful. Which made sense, because their lives were on the line. All Shareem lives.

  Rees, damn it, the things I do for you.

  “Tell you what, darlin’,” Braden said, hitting on a solution he’d used with worried highborn women before. “I’ll grab a train and head up the hill to Serestine Station B and wait for you there. The last train back down leaves at midnight—if I don’t see you by then, I get on the train and go home, no questions asked. All right?”

  They’d be in public so she wouldn’t worry about him ravishing her. Shareem couldn’t touch a lady until she gave him permission—programming again—but not everyone believed that. The highborn lady could then look him over and decide whether she should finish hooking up with him.

  The station was also a place where Elisa could remain robed and veiled, anonymous. If she got cold feet and wanted to back out, Braden would simply go home. Nothing lost.

  Except a chance to see her again.

  Elisa nodded, looking pleased. “An excellent idea. I will see you there.”

  She signed off, leaving Braden to gaze at a blank screen.

  His fantasies reared their ugly heads again. Sex in a public place was exciting, the possibility of being caught adding to the fun. Serestine Station B had nooks and crannies everywhere. He had good reason to know.

  Elisa was celibate, sure, but that didn’t mean Braden couldn’t dream about being with her. He’d get her in a corner, hidden from the platform, and slide off her robes. Next her dress or whatever she wore underneath, until she stood naked against the painted wall. Her nipples would be dark and tight against creamy skin, her pussy already wet, moisture on her curls.

  She’d smile at him with her pretty mouth while Braden commanded her to get on her knees. She’d do it, and then he’d order her to put that mouth on his cock.

  He’d stand with his back to the station, screening her from view while she closed silken lips around him. She’s suck, lick, nibble, her hands stealing to cup his ass.

  Braden would stroke her hair, gently move his hips back and forth, back and forth. He’d watch her eyes close, her lips move on his cock, her tongue swipe around the tip. It would feel so good, her mouth wet and hot, the sucking making him want to come and come.

  She’d open her eyes and smile up at him, cock still full in her mouth. Braden would loosen her hair until it spread over her bare back, sinking his fingers into its softness.

  Elisa’s fingers would bite into his ass, and then she’d snake one finger between his buttocks, sliding it inside enough to make him wild.

  Oh, fucking good.

  Too good. Braden’s cock was standing tall, pissed off at him for thinking about what he couldn’t have.

  Stroking himself off would release him, but Braden’s hand was becoming boring company. It never laughed at his jokes or made good conversation.

  He could find another female—Judith, maybe, who was always willing to help a Shareem release. But no. Braden didn’t like to think about one woman when he was with another. Unfair to all members of the equation.

  Nothing else for it. Braden stripped off his tunic and loincloth, took up the bottle of lube he always kept handy, and squirted some onto his cock.

  “Elisa,” he whispered as he smoothed the lube onto his erection. His fingers soothed him a little, but not enough. They’d never be enough.

  Braden moved his closed hand up to his tip, tickling the slit with his thumb before sliding back down. He got off the chair, put one foot up on the table and glided his hand down to his balls, which were hard and tight, hot.

  He patted his balls a little, trying to comfort himself, but nothing was working. He ran the heel of his hand up his cock again, closing his fist around it when he reached the top.

  Back down, up again. More lube. Stroke, pull, squeeze. Stroke, pull, squeeze.

  “Elisa.” Gods, what a beautiful name. J
ust saying it made him want her.

  “Your mouth is all over me, sucking and licking, making me come. You’re laughing. I bend you over and spank your ass for laughing at me. It’s red and feels good, your tight, sweet ass under my hand.

  “I’m shoving you against the wall and you’re still smiling at me. Your pussy is so wet, your come hot. I stick my cock right into that wetness, going up into you until you stop laughing. You tell me how big I am as I wedge into your tightness. You don’t know if you can take me.

  “But you do take me, more and more. You’re so hot and wet that you open for me, and take my cock as far as it will go.

  “Then you start moaning, making all those beautiful noises. My whole body presses against you, your breasts hard on my chest, your nipples scraping me. Your nails rake down my back, your feet press my ass as you hang on.

  “I’m fucking you, fucking you hard, and you are so damn tight. So damn, damn tight, my Elisa . . .”

  Words faded as Braden’s mind went blank to all sensation but friction on cock. His body knew it wasn’t Elisa, so it was nowhere near as good. But hell, right now this was all he had.

  Braden’s cock got tighter, harder, his body hotter than hell—or Bor Narga, whichever was worse. He felt the come, the jerking pulses, the need to squirt all over Elisa and inside her.

  “Damn, woman, I want you,” he moaned.

  Then he shouted, “Elisa!” And came all over the place.

  Braden braced himself on the wall, nearly sobbing with relief. Ropes of come circled his fingers, the seed of a man who was dying for a woman.

  Fuck, fuck. Fuck!

  And then it was over. Braden fell against the wall, panting in release.

  He felt a tiny bit better, but it wasn’t as good, not nearly as good, as being inside Elisa. Elisa would be perfection.

  When Braden could walk again he staggered into his bathroom. A towel beckoned from the rack and he grabbed it, wrapping it around his too-sensitive cock.

  Braden groaned. He thought about Elisa’s slim fingers, so efficient on the library terminal, silken soft when he’d “accidentally” brushed them. What would her hands be like when they were gently cleaning him off with the towel?