Urden, God of Desire
Anastasia Rabiyah
Published by Purple Sword Publications, LLC
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.
URDEN, GOD OF DESIRE
Copyright © 2012 ANASTASIA RABIYAH
ISBN 978-1-61292-027-6
Cover Art Designed By Anastasia Rabiyah
For rivals who might see themselves in the eyes of their enemy and find love instead of hatred.
Prologue
“We’ve found something in the palace storage room near the landing bay. A monstrous crate, unmarked.”
Enrue lifted his eyes from his computer and glared at the young man who stood in the doorway. Like most of his aides, the retainer wore a gray uniform and bore the same short haircut they all did. Enrue hated interruptions when he worked. His jaw tightened for a moment, a muscle in his cheek twitching. “What is it?” He stood, intrigued.
“It hasn’t been opened, but, we’ve broken the locks already. I thought we should wait for you.” The retainer bounced from one foot to the next, his youthful face alight with angst.
Enrue signed out of his program, smoothed out his silk belt and soft, beige pants, a comfortable style reserved for men of high rank. It had been a tiring day of meetings and broadcasts. I need time to clear my head, he thought. A break from the touchscreen sounded good at that moment. Curiosity soon had him following his retainer to the lower rooms in order to discover what strange thing his corrupt predecessor had hidden away.
Solar lights lit the wide, gray storage room, flickering every so often. The collection panels high on the rooftops had suffered when Enrue’s fleet attacked the palace months before. The leader paused, his eyes narrowing on the thing his servants had unpacked. An air crane droned, its belt taut as it hauled up the item within the crate. His servants righted the packed item, tore away its protective coverings of long strips of bubbled plastic and removed the strap that held it to the crane. They shut off the machine, stepped back and surveyed the piece of art they’d unveiled.
Enrue hissed through his teeth, disappointed. He studied the black stone statue of some sort of Unangi God. The carving stood a head taller than him, with no pedestal to support it. Its dark feet rested atop the marble floor as if it had been human at one time. Behind the statue, the metal crate it had been in lay to one side, fluffed packaging fluttering in the breeze from the air vents.
“Another relic to collect dust.” Enrue said, narrowing his eyes on the statue.
“We thought it could have been a weapon,” his retainer grumbled. “Something useful.” He cleared his throat and stifled a laugh. “It’s the Unangi God of Desire. I doubt he will aid us in the war.”
The relic meant nothing to Enrue, just another purloined piece of his former rival’s hoard of ostentatious treasures. The statue’s erect phallus pointed toward the heavens, and its upraised arms with fisted hands and enraptured face expressed a mysterious spiritual need, a beckoning the new leader of Irnia had little interest in. He waved away the servants and his retainer. “I want to be alone.” They scurried out like rats, leaving him to his thoughts and the dust shrouding the loading bay.
He liked solitude. Years ago, after his wife passed, he’d sent his daughter away to boarding school to be raised by others. He recalled those days and nights. Silence and time were plentiful, and it was then that he plotted to take over Irnia. The port city with its decadence and high concentration of Hemec fuel in the nearby mountains was a staging point to begin the war against the Kyleena Empire.
Enrue let out a tired sigh. He fingered the sash he wore, and shot a glance at the Unangi God. He strode to it and reached out to trace its hip. The single piece of dark stone felt smooth, the carved muscles defined. It was a wonder the relic had survived the attack on Leuj’s palace. In fact, it amazed him how much of the palace was salvageable. The bombs had missed large sections of the building, but destroyed much of the gardens. He intended to use the estate as a base to launch one-man fighter pods against the cruiser warships he knew Kyleena would send in time.
Stepping back, he shot the statue a curious look. “God of Desire,” he muttered. “There are no gods.” He sat down on a blue settee and frowned. “But I have desires, grand plans, and I will see them come to fruition.”
He closed his eyes. He imagined his daughter’s face, not the ghastly look she bore when he identified her body at the Tarafian morgue, but the wide, curious, hazel eyes that matched his own. She’d been a beauty in life, though he never told her so. He believed people should not be too sure of themselves or prideful, his daughter especially. For a fleeting moment, he regretted never telling her how much she meant to him, but then his thoughts returned to the Empire he wanted to control. The memory of Sima faded.
Chapter One
Alga
Sima rolled on her side and smiled at Razi. Still asleep, his mouth slightly ajar and his breathing steady, she fought the urge to kiss him awake, to cuddle into his body and spend their morning in bed, making love. He was skilled at pleasuring her, drawing her into a frenzied state, determined to bring her to orgasm time and again until she begged him to stop. On second thought, maybe I better let him rest, she decided. They were to meet with a priest from the local temple at noon, and she wanted to be able to walk straight.
Easing off the bed so as not to disturb him, she pushed her chestnut hair out of her eyes and breathed deep. Life was good now, much simpler than it had been when she resided under her father’s control. Only months before, she’d escaped an arranged marriage to Leuj, the tyrant of Irnia, and found herself in a brothel with Razi, her soon-to-be husband. The unlikelihood of their meeting always made her giggle.
She stretched her arms high and glanced about the small, but comfortable cottage they’d rented in Alga’s north sector. A hand-carved wooden loveseat bordered the window. It was there she’d tossed her clothes the night before. She dressed in a long, blue skirt and matching blouse, braided her hair and poked her feet beneath the side table, seeking her shoes.
Sima left for her morning walk, her sandals slapping at the heels of her feet. She breathed in the cool, fresh air, free of smog or pollution. Alga was a farming community, a naturalist’s paradise, a haven far from Irnia and her home city of Taraf, both on the other side of the planet. She feathered her fingers across the thick seedheads of thigh-high amaranth. This hybrid was bred to grow half the height of the standard plant. The blood-colored grain reminded her of the war they’d left behind. Fleeing to Alga had always been her plan. Never did she think she’d regret it, but lately, she wondered if it was the right decision.
The flat stone path led her to a fountain and near that, a squat woman sat on a porch swing made of scrap metal. She swayed lazily in the early morning light and clutched a small radio. Morning news stuttered into the air, polluting the silence and tranquility. Sima was about to hurry on her way when she heard the mention of her father.
“Shiemir Enrue Alonwei of Taraf has declared Irnia a free nation. Southern Irnians are being searched. Those found in violation of the human trade treaties will be executed. Any cargo ships attempting to dock at the Irnian ports from Hicklan Corporation will be destroyed. The Shiemir has issued this statement…”
Sima seated herself on the edge of the fo
untain. Her fingers skimmed the cool water’s surface as she listened, perplexed over this development. Her father was wiping Irnia clean of immorality. To be certain, it was a noble move, but she knew her father well. He never did anything for the good of anyone but himself.
“…That the degenerated society of Irnia led to my daughter’s untimely death cannot be questioned. If Leuj Irnia had rid his city of these slavers and whores, Sima would be with me today.”
“Ha.” She closed her eyes, frowning. Her father had been happy enough to trade her for treaties to Leuj a few months prior. This was nothing more than propaganda. She half-listened to the commercials and then stood. Striding along her usual path, she was unwilling to dwell on the past.
A herd of dwarf cattle grazed in the lowland pasture at the end of the path. Sima held to the fence post and watched them, their red-brown fur bright against the dark green. Grass tore and teeth grated. Silence again, the gentle quiet of being far away from real civilization and all its worries. “This can’t last,” she whispered to herself. “Nothing good ever does.”
Behind her, shoes made small soft sounds over the path. She listened to the person’s approach and realized she wasn’t afraid anymore. They’d been in Alga a month and the panic that she’d be discovered, that someone would turn her in and she’d be returned to her old life, had vanished. She smiled and turned.
“Morning.” It was Razi, his dark features alight with mischief. He ran a hand over his short, black hair and flashed a melting grin. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
She shrugged.
He slipped his hand around her waist and leaned sideways against her body. Warm lips kissed her neck and worked a path of affection up to her ear. “I like it when you wake me up.” He nipped her earlobe, causing her to shiver. “Like yesterday. And the day before that…”
“Mm.” She turned to face him and slid a hand up his shirt. Her fingers found his nipple and the slim ring piercing it. “I can’t wait for you to be my husband.” She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. The double suns rose above, warming her skin and shedding more light on them as they held each other close.
“Soon,” he said. “Though I see no difference. We’re together now.”
She hugged him and stared at the cattle. “Do you think I could have done more back in Irnia? Do you think I should seek out my father?”
He held his breath for a time before shaking his head. “Why? What makes you think of him?”
She chewed her lower lip. “I overheard the news just now. My father is cleaning out Irnia’s south district. He’s declared Irnia a free nation.”
“Ah.” Razi cupped her cheek. “Then perhaps he is not such a bad man after all.” He glanced around them, his dark eyes narrowing. She recognized his look. He wanted something, and he’d have it too.
“Not here,” she said when he pushed his hips against hers, revealing his arousal. “Someone will see us.”
“Let them see.” He nodded at the little barn on the outskirts of the pasture.
“Ew. It smells like cattle dung in there, and you know it. We can go back home.” She winked and when he frowned, she asked, “What? You can’t wait that long?”
He thrust his body closer. “Does it feel like I can wait?”
“Looks like you’ll have to.” She nodded behind him at an approaching child, one of the messengers from the cottage rental office. The thin boy raced along the path, his bare feet hardly making a sound. “Razi!” he cried. “Folar has a message for you and it’s from Sister Lensi!”
Razi released Sima and placed his hands in his pockets. The child stopped short, panting. He rifled through his pocket for the paper and found it. Grinning, he handed it over.
“Go on then,” Sima scolded. “The less you know, the better.”
The child scowled and stalked off, his shoulders hunching. They waited for the boy to be far enough not to hear before they read over Lensi’s message.
Razi,
Shiemir Alonwei’s troops are infiltrating the Unangi jungle. I’ve gathered the refugees and plan to arrive this evening. Please prepare for them. The rebels will stay behind to fight as they always have.
Lensi
“Do you think she’s still with Leuj?” Sima whispered, curious.
“If so, she’s smart enough not to say it in writing. Should your father find out Leuj’s whereabouts, he’d bomb the whole area to be sure the man is dead.” Razi slipped the note in his pants pocket and took Sima’s hand. He guided her off the path toward the guava orchard.
“It wouldn’t be out of any vengeance for my death.”
He chuckled. “You don’t know that for sure. He is your father after all.”
The grass was overgrown on the edge of the orchard. No one had pruned the trees for a while and they appeared more like bushes. He pulled Sima down into the dew-dampened grass and smiled. “Wake me up now.”
“You’re already awake.” She prodded his chest with her forefinger. “I’ve spoiled you.”
“I think you have that the wrong way around.” He rolled her beneath him and straddled her to sit up. “Spoiled. I’m not spoiled.” Gliding one hand beneath the hem of her blouse, he massaged her stomach, his thumb tickling her navel.
This was a beginning to foreplay she enjoyed. His hand warmed her to the core of her being with simple side-to-side strokes. She relaxed and closed her eyes. Slowing her breathing, she took in the perfume of the wilds, the scent of moist loam and grass, the musky flavor of her lover’s skin and a little farther away, the odor of the cattle. She crinkled her nose.
He continued to rub her skin with his right hand while his left cupped her breast. Fingers curled around her softness, heating her body, calming her thoughts and centering her in the moment. “You’re good at this,” she said in a low voice.
“I better be.” His lips grazed hers. “Do you remember the first night we were together? How I wanted you?” He nibbled her jaw-line. “You turned me on from the moment I saw you on my couch.” He bit at her lower lip. “Are you wet for me?”
“Mm.” She squirmed beneath him. His hand left her stomach. He pressed his body against hers, weighing her down. She embraced him with her legs. “I remember,” she said, breathless.
“Are you wet?” he asked again. His fingers slipped beneath the waist of her skirt and delved into her panties. He cupped her cleft and chuckled at the moisture he found there. “That’s how I like you. Always ready for me.”
She bucked when he slipped a finger inside, and he kissed her hard before she could utter any protest, not that she felt like stopping him now. Tomorrow they’d be married. She hoped life would continue like this in all its simplicity. The village they were in was quaint and small. Razi had a job at the mill, and Sima worked for Folar, keeping track of the rents and taxes.
Razi raised his face and narrowed her eyes. “What are you thinking about?” He circled her clit with his thumb. “You’re so tense.”
“Nothing.” She shuddered and caught her breath, returning her attention to him fully. “How can I think with you doing that?”
He smiled and forced a second finger inside her, massaging her pussy in a ticklish rhythm. “Good answer.”
She tried to relax, and he made it easy. His thumb soon had her legs quaking with the circular motions drawn across her center. Her breathing hitched and caught. Razi groaned, his desire mounting in time with hers. She clenched her teeth to avoid screaming when her orgasm gripped his fingers.
“That’s it,” he whispered in her ear. “Good girl, all wet and ready for me.”
She lay still in the grass, unable to form a coherent thought. He pulled his fingers from her body, leaving her empty, but blissfully content. Razi pushed her skirt up, tugged her panties free and pushed his knees beneath her ass, raising her pussy to him for easy access. Unlacing his pants, he pushed them down, freeing his cock. It bobbed above her entrance, thick and ready. Grasping her ankles, he set them on his shoulders. He looked down at her parted center
in admiration.
“I’ll never get enough of you.” He grinned sideways and positioned himself to take her.
“I’ll never get enough of you either.” She arched her back, his knees supporting her from beneath and gasped when he pulled her up and thrust deep inside her body. He claimed her as he had time and again, though this delicious position was new.
He swayed and she felt his thickness filling her body. This sensuous dance teased her. His thumbs caressed her inner thighs, tracing her skin, gliding close to their joining only to slide away. The scent of their coupling mingled with the natural, fresh odor of the crushed grass.
After a while, she longed for him to pull out and ram in. She knew this was one of his games. He liked it when she begged for him. “Do it,” she whispered.
He grasped her ass and pulled her back ever so slowly, his length sliding out.
“Razi, do it…”
He pushed in and grunted.
Anxious, she found his wrists and clenched them, tugging so he’d understand. She stared up at his face, his playful but sensual parted lips she so loved to taste. His mouth became a firm line. He crushed into her, a raging beat of bodies slapping and releasing. She couldn’t hold her voice back any longer, nor did she want to.
His release burst in her body, heating her and causing his face to tighten, his jaw to tense. He shoved in and held himself there, rigid in her body and quaking with each afterburst. Sliding his hand in position, he set his free thumb to work her clit until she begged him to stop.
“But I want you to cum again,” he explained. “I like to watch your face.”
“You just want to laugh at me when we go to the temple and I can’t walk a straight line.” She released his wrists and let her hands fall to the ground.
“You know me too well already.” He fingered her gently, grinning. “All right. I’ll let you go this time, but tonight—“
“Lensi will be here tonight.”
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