Tales of the Shareem, Volume 2

by Allyson James

  “Only if your dick’s too small.” Aiden stepped way too close to Braden, the heat of his body blanketing Braden’s side. He slid a firm arm around Braden’s shoulders. “My lovers don’t need to look at my eyes to know how much I want them.”

  Aiden caressed Braden’s shoulder a little, fingers skilled, and Braden felt himself reacting in spite of himself. Aiden, a level one, could bring off a woman just by touching her hand. A level one was all about sensuality and softer pleasures, scented oils and massage. Slow, beautiful sex.

  Aiden was also the lover of Ky, a level three. A match made in . . . well, who the hell knew, but it worked for them. Their third, Brianne, the sweetheart, had brought them together and made the three of them whole.

  Now Aiden was plying his sinful pheromones over Braden. Firm fingers toyed with the chain on Braden’s biceps, and Aiden’s perspiration touched Braden’s skin.

  Braden lifted Aiden’s caressing hand away. “I don’t care who you’re fucking, Aiden, as long as it’s not me.”

  “I care,” Brianne said, coming to stand at the high table next to Elisa. “I’m the jealous type.”

  “Yeah, and that turns me on, sweet baby.” Aiden abandoned Braden for her so fast that Braden laughed.

  Aiden curled his arm around Brianne and pulled her up for a kiss. Not a friendly peck, a long, tongue-filled, mouth-slanting kiss. When he came up for air, Aiden’s eyes were fully blue.

  “Hey,” Ky said. “If he gets some, so do I.” Ky put his arm around Brianne from her other side and pulled her into an equally sensual kiss.

  Elisa watched them with a surprised expression but her look was intrigued, not disgusted. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the table, but she faced the unusual situation without a word. Braden’s liking for her rose several notches.

  Judith set another tray on the table, put down fresh glasses, and started picking up the empties. “Keep it calm,” she said to Ky. “I don’t want to get shut down. Besides, there’s no one for me tonight, and that’s not fair.”

  Judith glanced speculatively at Braden and then at Elisa. Judith had been known to dabble with a female—hell, with anything humanoid and sentient. Judith wasn’t picky. She’d go double with a woman on a Shareem and even play a little with the lady.

  But she must have sensed that Elisa had no interest in female play, because Judith gave a regretful shake of her head, picked up her tray and walked off again.

  “Poor Judith,” Aiden said. “Surrounded by hard-cocked Shareem, and no one to scratch her itch.”

  “She’ll be fine,” Calder said.

  He was right; Judith rarely lacked for sexual company. Judith had been with Calder once, only once. Before he’d met Katarina, Calder had never let a lady be with him a second time. Back then, he’d been scarred, the Beast, not the mellow, healed Shareem who shared their table with Katarina.

  That is, Calder was somewhat mellowed. He could still be unpredictable.

  Like now. Calder stood up, pulling Katarina up beside him, and started to leave without a word.

  Katarina smiled as she looked back. “Nice to meet you, Elisa.” She waved before Calder more or less dragged her out of the bar and into the night.

  “Don’t mind Calder,” Braden said to Elisa. “He was a lab experiment gone wrong. Makes him touchy.”

  Elisa’s brows drew together in that cute, puzzled look. “What does that mean, ‘a lab experiment gone wrong’?”

  “It means he spent an awful lot of time alone,” Braden said, his humor fading. “Way too damn much time, until Katarina came along. I love her for what she’s done for Calder, I truly do. But Calder’s still not much for etiquette. Or crowds.”

  “Speaking of crowds.” Ky wrapped his arm around Brianne again. “Let’s get the fuck out of this one.”

  Ky’s eyes were still blue from that spectacular kiss with Brianne. Ky wanted to go home and fuck, with both Brianne and Aiden.

  Braden didn’t really understand that threesome, but it made them happy, so Braden lived with it. Besides, a happy Ky was a hell of a lot easier to put up with than Ky pissed off and lonely.

  Aiden and Ky left, both with arms around Brianne. Heading home for some satisfying heat. Good luck to them.

  This left Elisa alone with Braden.

  Elisa turned her green-flecked brown eyes directly on Braden. “Now that everyone’s gone and we can speak freely, “ she began in her soft, librarian voice. “Please tell me, Braden—why were you looking up details on cargo transports on my library computer?”

  Chapter Four

  Braden didn’t move. Even his eyes didn’t flicker, but Elisa sensed she’d thrown a question at him he hadn’t been instructed how to answer.

  Did he think she hadn’t paid attention? Elisa knew every single thing that went on in her library—who looked up what and when and for how long. Braden had come in there for more than research on his friend’s singing spheres, and she wanted to know what.

  Patron privacy was one thing, but she refused to let her library be a hub for someone else’s schemes. Shareem were supposed to be unable to commit crimes or break rules. But Elisa was understanding that they would bend the hell out of the rules when they wanted to.

  Braden’s shoulder brushed hers as he shrugged. “I was reading about the singing spheres, sweetheart. You pulled up the data for me, remember?”

  True, and the answer worked around the lie.

  “I had a call last week, from the Ministry of Transport,” she said. “They told me someone had accessed a large amount of data on cargo flights, and that the transaction had come from my library’s restricted-access computer. The log showed the activity at midmorning, the day you were there.”

  “I wasn’t there until mid-afternoon,” Braden said, eyes steady. “So why do you think it was me?”

  “My logs show no one on the restricted computer at all at the time you were there. No record of anyone, or any searches.”

  “Huh.” Braden was the picture of nonchalance. “Interesting.”

  “My terminals are all secure. Very little chance that someone hacked their way in from outside the library.” Elisa took a small sip of ale and set the glass back down. “I told the woman from the Ministry of Transport that I’d been doing data analysis on trends in Bor Nargan imports and exports that morning. For a class I teach.”

  The nonchalant look didn’t waver. “You teach?”

  “Once a week. Library systems and information science for the university.”

  Braden slanted her a grin. “Gods, I love it when you use big words.”

  “Most people think the class is boring,” Elisa said. “But it’s necessary for the library science degree. I often do arbitrary searches to provide examples for the class.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Yes, isn’t it?”

  Braden traced the rim of his ale glass. Elisa knew good and well that he’d accessed the information, and Braden knew she knew. But if he didn’t acknowledge or answer her straight out, he wouldn’t have to lie, thus not violating his programming.

  Why he’d accessed the information, Elisa couldn’t understand. It seemed a fairly harmless search—she couldn’t see how it endangered the people of Bor Narga or anywhere else. But if the woman from the Ministry found out a Shareem had been digging, then who knew what the Ministry might do? To Braden, and to Elisa.

  “I found it interesting that you made certain that only my thumbprint provided access to the databases,” Elisa said.

  “Yeah?”

  “And interesting that you wanted to use the only terminal capable of doing in-depth searches into select government agencies.”

  Another smile that made her blood heat. “Shareem can be very curious.”

  “Also interesting that the time stamp happened when the computer wasn’t in use at all. Only two people used that terminal that day—you, and me.”

  “Funny how these things happen,” Braden said.

  “You’re not going to tell me, are
you?”

  “You want to know what I find interesting?” Braden’s eyes were quiet, calm, and filled with something she didn’t understand. “That you didn’t tell the nice lady at the Ministry a Shareem had been using the terminal that day. At any time. Why not?”

  Elisa sent him an indignant look. “Because what my patrons read or look up is none of anyone else’s business.”

  “But I’m not your usual kind of patron,” Braden said.

  “Yes, you are.” Her anger rose. “By the rules, you are. And so I protect your right to information, just as I would for any other patron.”

  Elisa found herself the full focus of Braden’s blue gaze. She should be afraid of such a large, strong man who could do anything to her, but she wasn’t for some reason.

  His concentration warmed her, made her feel protected, as he had on the train and walking through Pas City. He’d cushioned her against the world and any bad thing that might happen to her.

  Elisa cleared her throat. “You sent me the singing sphere as a gift, because I let you use the terminal.”

  The quiet in Braden’s eyes fled, and his wicked smile returned. “No, sweetheart. I sent it to you because I thought you’d like it. Because I wanted to imagine your face when you opened the box.” His voice went soft. “Damn, I wish I could have been there to see you open the package.”

  Elisa wished he could have been there too. He’d have watched her as intently as he did now, and she’d have gasped in pleasure and flung her arms around him in thanks.

  She imagined landing against his hard body, right into his strong arms. He’d be warm and protective, and maybe he’d press a kiss to her hair, accepting her thanks.

  As though he read her thoughts, Braden reached out and touched her cheek. The caress was light, feather soft, but it made her blood sing.

  I should tell him to stop. I should demand to know why he thinks he can put his hands on me without my permission.

  But the touch wasn’t sexual. Was it? Elisa’s mother sometimes touched her face. Close friends did as well, and so did her spiritual advisor. What difference did it make?

  The difference was that Braden was male, he was Shareem, and he made Elisa’s body heat in delicious and forbidden ways.

  His touch made her feel good, not bad or wrong—but this was all wrong. He should stop.

  Elisa didn’t want him to stop.

  “Pretty librarian,” Braden said in his dark voice. “I need to ask you a question. Since you’ve already asked so many of me.”

  She supposed that was fair. “Very well.”

  His sensual tone fled as he chuckled. “Very well. Damn, I like how you talk.”

  “How I talk?”

  “Very well. Mustn’t. Library systems and information science. It turns me on, sweetheart.”

  “Why on earth should it?”

  “If you don’t know, I can’t explain.” Braden’s voice became the seductive drawl again. “Tell me, Elisa n’Arell. Why are you celibate? You’re not a cold woman—your body has responded to mine since the moment I met you. So why the hell did you throw away your beautiful sensuality to meditate on rocks? I want to know why, pretty lady.”

  Goddess, he was melting her. She wanted to lay her head on his shoulder and confess, I don’t know. Teach me about what I’ve lost. Please, before I die.

  “It is an honor to be welcomed into the Way of the Sky,” she said, her standard answer. “Being an official celibate is the highest achievement a woman on Bor Narga can reach.”

  “Uh-huh.” Braden sensed the lie just as Elisa had sensed his unspoken lie about the library terminal.

  He leaned to her, his arm across the back of her chair again, the warmth and scent of him nice. “All my secrets are in a database somewhere, for the world to see. But I can’t look up yours, Elisa, so you have to tell me. Pretend you’re my lady, pretty librarian, and tell your Shareem why you don’t want his touch.”

  *** *** ***

  On the opposite side of the hill from Pas City lay a flat plain, and on that Bor Nargan’s main spaceport had been built. The landing area for shuttles that took passengers aloft to the liners was far enough from the Serestine Quarter to not bother the highborn with noise, but close enough for their convenience.

  The freight docks were farther from the passenger terminals, out of sight of the rich in the Serestine Quarter and the nouveau riche on the lower hill called the Vistara.

  At the spaceport, a stranger stepped off a shuttle that had come down from one of the cheaper passenger liners. He was nearly seven feet tall, had pulled his rich brown hair into a single braid, and had blue eyes. He wore a simple tunic and leggings and carried one bag slung over his shoulder.

  Inside the stadium-sized port building, he approached one of the many vendors and bought sun-blocking robes and a breath mask, apparatus he hadn’t needed for twenty-five years. The lush greenery of Sirius III had never seen a sandstorm, although the mountain ranges in the southern hemisphere could get pretty dry. But the part of Sirius where he’d lived had been soft, sweet, and quiet.

  “Ident card.”

  A narrow-eyed patroller stopped him as he turned from the vendors. Stun gun at her waist, handheld ready, the tall woman looked pissed off about something. Patrollers always did.

  The stranger took his ident card from his pocket and handed it over. The woman shoved the strip into her handheld, touched the screen, and scowled. “Justin? That’s your name?”

  Justin shrugged. “Ever since they hauled my baby ass out of the vat.”

  “It says here that you were shipped off planet twenty-five years ago.”

  “I know that. No law that a Shareem can’t come back to Bor Narga, is there? I checked.”

  She gave him a suspicious stare. “Why did you come back?”

  “I have my reasons.” None of which I’m telling you.

  The patroller punched a few things into her handheld before it spit out the ident card again. “I’m calling this in,” she said, handing the strip to him. “A Shareem returning to Bor Narga on purpose can’t be up to any good.”

  “You just keep on believing that, sweetheart.”

  Justin tucked his ident card into his pocket, swirled his sun-blocking robes over his shoulders, and strode away.

  Fucking patrollers. They hadn’t changed a bit.

  Just as Justin stepped out of the spaceport, the sandstorm alert went off. He and everyone else turned around and went right back into the building.

  Heavy steel doors slammed behind them, and a few seconds later, the spaceport shook with screaming wind. Sand hit the doors and the shielded ceiling with hurricane force.

  Justin breathed a sigh as he leaned against a wall to wait it out.

  Home, sweet home.

  *** *** ***

  Judith’s bar had mostly emptied before the sandstorm hit, leaving Elisa, Braden, and Judith alone. Judith locked down the storm doors and went upstairs to make sure everything was secure.

  Elisa watched a tiny wave of sand seep in under the door, but other than that, the building seemed sturdy. She had her breath mask in case, but a sandstorm could strip the flesh from a person’s body within seconds.

  “Are you sure this place is airtight?” Elisa asked.

  “As airtight as any bar in the slums can be,” Braden said. “Don’t fret, love. Judith keeps her place up to code. She knows people.”

  The wind pounded at the walls, and sand slapped at the storm shielding over the tiny windows.

  Braden’s arm still rested across the back of her chair. “Consider this quiet time to answer my question about your celibacy. No one here but us. Judith is giving us space.”

  “It’s personal,” Elisa said stiffly.

  “Damn right it’s personal. Tell you what. If you answer a personal question for me, I’ll answer one for you.”

  “One that’s not in a database?”

  Braden considered. “Sure.”

  Elisa let out her breath. “Then that sounds equ
itable.”

  “Equitable.” Braden laughed, the sound gravelly like the sand. “Do you ever say wherewithal?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “I knew it.” Braden took another swallow of ale and pushed the glass aside. “Now tell me. Why celibacy?”

  Elisa had her pat answer ready. Because I believe in the Way. I believe in ridding the intellect of the anchor of bodily pleasures.

  But for some reason, she wanted to tell Braden, if no one else in her life, the truth.

  “To get out of a bad marriage,” she said.

  Braden blinked. “What? No shit.”

  She gave him a little smile. “It’s true. I wasn’t married yet. Engaged. Officially. It was an arranged marriage. I was fine with it initially, because I wanted to do my duty and provide an heir for the family.”

  It was every highborn woman’s lot to provide an heir to take over the family wealth. Morgan had been the perfect male for the job—right lineage, right social circle, right friends, right everything.

  “So what happened?” Braden asked.

  “He was pleasant enough during the courtship and the contract meetings. Escorted me to society functions, helped my mother, made himself agreeable to my friends. Everyone liked him.”

  “But . . .”

  Elisa laughed a little. “Once all the contracts were signed he turned into the most self-centered and vainglorious idiot I’d ever met. He didn’t want to do anything with me anymore and became nasty to my friends and family. He was a mean, petty little monster. He was already spending my money on off-world courtesans and in gambling hells. I could have closed my eyes to it and lived a separate life—many married couples do—but I decided I didn’t want to waste my life and my marriage on him.”

  Braden’s look turned approving. “Good for you, love. What a fuckwad.”

  His anger on her behalf filled Elisa with warmth. Everyone else—her mother and friends, even those Morgan had treated like dirt—had wondered why Elisa had minded. As long as Morgan provided her with an heir, who cared?

  “My mother was furious,” Elisa said. “His parents were furious. His family is pretty powerful, and we’d already signed all the agreements. They threatened to sue me for breach of contract.”