Tales of the Shareem, Volume 2

by Allyson James

  Aw, damn it.

  His cock was rising again. Braden slammed on his water shower, stepped under the hot stream and let his hand have its wicked way with him again.

  *** *** ***

  Braden checked the readout on the train platform’s clock for the zillionth time. A quarter of an hour to midnight, and Elisa still hadn’t showed.

  She wasn’t going to—Braden had figured that by now. He’d have to go home again, back to his fantasies, back to another shower and another bottle of lube. He’d jerked off so many times in the past couple weeks his hand was going to start demanding candy and jewelry.

  The last train left at midnight, and if Braden didn’t get on it, the two female patrollers who wandered the platform would arrest him. Maybe stun-gun him for the fun of it.

  These patrollers had been eyeing Braden since he’d arrived, watching him lounge on a bench drinking coffee as hovertrain after hovertrain went back to Pas City without him.

  They moved toward Braden now, ready to be pains in his ass.

  “You’ve been here a long time, Shareem,” one said.

  She spoke in the sneering, condescending tone that all patrollers used. They must take seminars in sneering.

  “Yeah?” Braden said. “So have you.”

  “It’s our job to be here,” the second said. Yep, same seminar.

  “Must be rough having nothing to do but follow a man around a train station,” Braden said.

  “You’re not a man,” the second one said.

  Suck me, woman.

  The first one held out her hand. “Let me see your ident card.”

  “Why? You can look me up in the database. My picture’s in there. Not my best shot, but you get the idea.”

  “Ident card.”

  Fuckers. A Shareem refusing to give a patroller an ident card would be immediately arrested. If Braden got hauled off to the nearest patrol station he’d miss Elisa, who still had ten minutes.

  Braden tugged a piece of plastic from the belt that also housed his breath mask and slapped the card into the woman’s hand. Without thanking him, she tucked the card into her handheld and frowned at the readout.

  “You’re the one called Braden.”

  “So glad you can read.”

  “Looks like you’re due for your inoculations very soon. Why haven’t you gotten them?”

  Because Braden hated his six-month inoculations and put them off until the last possible minute. Back at DNAmo he’d never known exactly what they were going to shoot into him, and sometimes they’d had to hold him down to do it.

  The only medic he went to now was Katarina, his best friend’s lover and a friend in her own right. Katarina mixed up the concoction of immunizations and sterility drugs herself and told Braden exactly what was in it, and he trusted her. But Braden’s old fears died hard.

  The inoculations were redundant, because every known disease had been programmed out of Shareem genetics from the get-go. All diseases, not just sexually transmitted ones.

  The shots also kept the Shareem from reproducing, which, to Braden, showed a big flaw in the “Shareem aren’t human” idea. If Shareem weren’t human, why were humans so worried about Shareem making babies? Even if a Shareem managed to make a child, then logically—if Shareem weren’t human—that child would be sterile. Like mules. No breeding dozens of Shareem possible. Automatic end of problem.

  But the Ministry of Non-Human Life Forms was inflexible. Sterility drugs it was.

  The patroller handed Braden back his card. “You know that if you miss your shots, it’s instant termination.”

  Braden let his eyes widen. “It is? Damn, I’m so glad you told me.”

  “Here comes your train,” the patroller said. “Get on it.”

  The train was early. Braden glanced at the clock, showing that the librarian had seven whole minutes left to get there.

  The hovertrain slid smoothly into the station, sending displaced air over Braden and the patrollers. The women were going to stand there until he boarded.

  The train doors opened, but not many people got on. Few highborn wanted to go to the gritty part of the metropolis this late, and most had private transportation anyway. Workers from Pas City who had jobs up here had departed hours ago.

  “On,” the first patroller said. Both women had hands on their weapons.

  Braden gave them a wave and a grin. “It’s been sweet chatting with you. Ta-ta.”

  Ignoring their ugly looks, Braden stepped onto the train, walked down the mostly empty car, and took a seat alone. No one gave him a second glance—Pas City people were used to Shareem.

  The doors slammed. Braden saw no flutter of robes from a highborn woman running to catch the last train, no feminine voice shouting his name, nothing.

  The few men and women around him closed their eyes as the train jerked forward. The train paused, hovered silently for about fifteen seconds, then jerked like hell again as it left the station. Stupid hovertrains.

  The train picked up speed and dove down the hill, starting its journey back to the lower city and the slums.

  It didn’t matter, Braden thought as he looked out the window at splashes of lights in the darkness. He’d go to Judith’s bar. His friends would be there. He could get very drunk and forget all about meeting a librarian with brown, lively eyes flecked with green.

  *** *** ***

  The train lurched forward barely a second after the doors closed behind Elisa. She’d dashed into the station just as the train had started away, and the train’s conductor, seeing a highborn lady in expensive robes, had ordered the train to halt.

  Elisa pressed a tip into the conductor’s hand as she leapt breathlessly onto the last car. “Thank you.”

  “At your service, my lady,” the conductor said. “May I find you a seat?”

  The car was empty so the offer was a bit silly, but Elisa thanked him again. “No, I’ll be fine.”

  The conductor retreated into his rear compartment and Elisa walked unsteadily to the next car.

  What if Braden weren’t on the train at all? This was the last one down and Elisa was pretty certain that none would be coming back up tonight.

  She’d be in Pas City, alone, without escort, her robes marking her as way out of place. Elisa could call a taxi, of course, but then she’d have to wait for it. Alone. In Pas City.

  She opened the door of the third car along and stopped.

  Braden lounged in a seat at the end of the car, his arm stretched across the seat’s back, his head against the window, his eyes closed.

  When Braden had first walked into her library, Elisa’s tongue had stuck to the roof of her mouth and stayed there. Nearly seven feet tall, black hair bound at his neck, Braden had worn then as now a sleeveless tunic that bared his massive shoulders and tight, muscular arms. The black chain on his right biceps announced what he was.

  His face was handsome but stopped shy of perfection, giving him a hard strength that most Bor Nargan men lacked. His eyes were blue, a color no other native Bor Nargan had, a color that mesmerized her and drew her in.

  With his eyes closed now, Braden looked almost harmless.

  Almost. His long legs stretched out from the cramped seat into the aisle, his body barely fitting, giving him the look of a wild beast at rest. A desert lion from the hills, maybe, sprawled in seeming quietness but ready to pounce.

  Elisa pictured Braden stretched out like that in bed, smiling and warm, waiting for his lady. She shivered.

  She also noticed one more thing about him. Braden looked lonely.

  Elisa wasn’t sure where that impression came from—maybe from the fact that he sat alone, that no one else was near him or even wanted to look at him. But a Shareem lonely was a strange idea.

  She walked to him before she could talk herself out of it. Gathering her robes around her, she sat down in the small amount of room he’d left in the seat.

  Braden’s eyes popped open in surprise. Then he smiled. That smile was all for her, hi
s blue irises expanding as his focus switched to Elisa and Elisa alone.

  Being the object of his Shareem gaze made her feel strange—beautiful, sensual, wanted—all the things that no man had ever made Elisa n’Arell feel.

  “My librarian,” Braden said, his voice warming her to her toes. “Damn, but it’s nice to see you.”

  Chapter Three

  “I’m sorry I’m late.” Elisa should have caught her breath by now, but for some reason it lodged in her throat. “I had to—”

  “No.” Braden’s fingers touched her lips. “No explanations. Leave it like this. That was one hell of an entrance.”

  His fingers were warmer than any human’s, the same as when he’d brushed the back of her hand in the library. The touch was soft but strong, mastering.

  Elisa was happy not to talk about how her boss had called her to an unscheduled meeting to discuss an event the library was putting on with the art museum. The minutiae of making certain that members of the ruling family were seated in the correct order, without snubbing the heads of the library or the art board, had made her insane. The details had taken several hours, and Elisa had been lucky to get away at all.

  Braden moved his fingertip across her lower lip, wetting it with moisture from her own mouth. “What are you thinking behind those beautiful eyes, my librarian?”

  That she was bold and sensual, no longer a good celibate in the Way of the Sky. “Questions I want to ask you,” she said.

  “Questions about you, me, and whipped cream?” He grinned, a teasing twinkle in his eyes. “You know we’re headed for Pas City, right?”

  “I know.” Elisa glanced out the window but could see little beyond her own reflection. Though she’d lived in the metropolis all her life, she’d never been to Pas City. “A new world for me.”

  “A crappy world.” Braden took his finger from her lips, to her disappointment. “I’ll show you my world if you want me to, sweetheart. But not with you in those robes.”

  Elisa looked down at herself. Her fashionable robes both blocked the harsh Bor Nargan sun and proclaimed her status and rank.

  Braden put his lips to her ear, his breath making her hot. “Take them off.”

  She started. “What?”

  “You don’t need sun protection at night. Besides, if a woman in celibate robes is running around with a Shareem, people will talk. They might tell the patrollers I abducted you.”

  The amused twinkle remained in his eyes, but Elisa sensed his tension. He was right to worry. The slightest transgression for him could mean incarceration, even termination.

  Elisa unfastened the fabric lock at the back of her neck and drew the robes off over her head. She wore a sleeveless silk sheath underneath, body-hugging but not too tight, comfortable in the night air.

  Braden’s eyes went bluer as he looked her over. “Nice.”

  Elisa tried to fold her robes, but the train was swaying like crazy as they barreled into the inner city. Braden took the robes and folded them in competent hands, hiding the symbols that proclaimed her celibate. He held the robes on his lap, not giving them back to her.

  The train halted at its last stop in a series of hard jerks. People muttered and snarled as they grabbed on to handholds, their belonging falling to the floor. A child sat down hard and started to cry.

  “No smooth stops for the slum dwellers.” Braden stood up as the doors opened, and helped Elisa to her feet with a firm hand. “Not when assholes run the trains.”

  Braden kept hold of Elisa’s hand as he steered her out of the station and into a different world.

  The sights, sounds and smells of Pas City smacked Elisa with the force of a sandstorm. Grills belched pungent cooking smoke, coupled with the smell of spices and vegetables. Street vendors called out to passersby, selling everything from robot parts to flowers to sticky pastries. It was after midnight, but with the days so hot and sun-shielding expensive, this place came alive at night.

  Most of the women wore coveralls instead of robes, and their men worked right alongside them. This last surprised Elisa, but she realized that few women in this part of town could afford the luxury of a kept husband.

  The men here sold the merchandise or worked the grills, their wives talking to customers and tucking away credit strips. The equality of it was strange but somehow appealing.

  Braden led Elisa though these mazelike and colorful streets, sending greetings to those who called out to him. Elisa’s quick mind soaked it up, this odd and wonderful place not an hour away from where she’d spent her entire life.

  “Where are we going?” She had to raise her voice to be heard.

  Braden sent her a smile that nearly melted her. “A goodly tavern I know. Thought you might like to stay in public for now.”

  He turned down a narrow street that teemed with people and ducked under faded awnings into a bar.

  The place was dim and cool but full of noise. The floor inside the door held grit from the last sandstorm, but the rest of the bar looked clean.

  There were other Shareem in here. Elisa counted three as Braden led her across the room to a table in the corner.

  One Shareem was blond and had been face-sculpted—a beautiful man, a work of art. He was smiling at a woman standing next to him, and as Elisa watched, his large hand slid to cover the woman’s buttocks. The woman looked up at him and shot him a warm and happy smile.

  On the woman’s other side stood a dark-haired brute of a man with broad shoulders and darker blue eyes. To Elisa’s amazement, he too slid his hand to the woman’s buttocks, and she switched the smile to him.

  When the dark-haired Shareem encountered the first Shareem’s hand on her backside, he didn’t pull away but wound his fingers through the other man’s hand.

  “That’s Aiden and Ky,” Braden said. “Aiden’s the beauty, Ky’s the beast. The lady they’re both pawing is Brianne d’Aroth.”

  Elisa stared in astonishment. The d’Aroths were Bor Narga’s ruling family, Brianne the granddaughter of the lady who ran the entire planet.

  Brianne had scandalized Bor Narga not long ago by jilting her fiancé and moving to Pas City. She’d proclaimed her intention of looking into the mistreatment of Shareem and started working hard at it. Because of Brianne d’Aroth, Braden had been allowed to enter Elisa’s library.

  The third Shareem Elisa saw was taller than the others and had a face that looked as though it had been sculpted, then ruined, then repaired again. The result was a face similar to Ky’s, raw handsomeness with a touch of brutality.

  This third Shareem also had a lady with him, but she wore a work coverall rather than robes. The two sat together at a tall table, and the woman, like Brianne, was being quietly fondled by her Shareem.

  “This is Calder,” Braden said, leading Elisa to the table. “The Shareem who passes for my best friend. And his lady, Katarina.”

  “The medic,” Elisa realized. “Katarina d’Arnal.”

  “That’s me.” The woman smiled. “The sacrificing woman who came to the slums to treat Shareem.”

  “As long as the only Shareem you treat is me,” Calder rumbled. “Unless it’s with my permission.”

  Elisa wasn’t sure what to make of the exchange, but Katarina winked at Braden even as she blushed.

  “Introduce us before she thinks you’re rude, Braden,” Katarina said.

  Braden helped Elisa to a chair, piled her robes on an empty stool and sat down next to her. Very close to her, his thigh and shoulder touching Elisa’s.

  “This is Elisa,” Braden said. He grinned. “She’s a librarian.”

  He said it as proudly as a man would proclaim that his lady was on the ruling council.

  Calder’s Shareem gaze flickered, which he covered by seizing the glass of foaming ale a red-haired woman deposited in front of him. The server’s loose coverall was unfastened to her waist, so that her breasts tantalized from the shadows.

  “Let her have a drink, Braden,” the woman said, plopping another glass of ale i
n front of Elisa. “It’s hot, if you hadn’t noticed, and she’s probably thirsty. She’ll need all the fortification she can get to deal with you.”

  Braden accepted his ale and smiled at the woman. “Judith, love, I haven’t heard you insult me all day. Don’t scare my librarian away.”

  “I don’t have to,” Judith said. “You can do that all by yourself.” She sauntered off, putting an extra wiggle in her hips.

  “She loves me,” Braden said. He rested his arm across the back of Elisa’s chair. “My friends, Elisa so nicely helped me out at the library a couple weeks ago. Showed this Shareem how to work computers.”

  “Poor woman,” Calder said, his voice grating. “Did she lose a bet?”

  Braden’s arm was a band of warmth against Elisa’s shoulders. The feeling made her giddy, bold. “I thought you said he was your friend,” she said to Braden.

  Braden grinned. “You see? My lady is appalled at your lack of manners.”

  Calder shot Elisa a speculative look that was absent all banter. Assessing her.

  A Shareem sizing up a highborn lady? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Elisa sipped ale to wet her dry mouth and found it surprisingly good.

  “You said you wanted to ask me questions,” Braden said. “What do you want to know?”

  Calder and Katarina watched sharply while pretending not to. Calder was better at it than Katarina.

  Elisa had many questions, but she decided to stick to harmless ones while Calder sat there, radiating menace.

  “Your eyes.” She leaned closer to Braden, looking into them. “I’ve never seen eyes that color, except on off-worlders. And your irises widen. That can’t have any sight benefit, can it?”

  Braden didn’t have any fucking idea what benefit it had, and he didn’t care. He only cared that Elisa’s breath touched his skin as she looked him over. His irises were widening even now.

  “Women want the Shareem to want them back,” Calder answered for him. “So our creators made our eyes change when we’re aroused. That way the lady knows when we’re hot for her, even from across the room.”