Urden, God of Desire

by Anastasia Rabiyah

  She groaned and twisted her arm, trying to escape his grip. He squeezed harder, refusing to release her.

  “You will.” He dragged her across the room to the wall, fought for a hold on her other hand and pressed both above her head, crushing them against the wall.

  She didn’t scream or attempt to fight for her freedom. A glint showed in her eyes, and he wondered if she felt what he did, if she wanted him to do more. Her chest tickled his when she took in each steady breath. He realized she did not fear him, not at all. In fact, she seemed amused by his aggression.

  “What do you want from me, Enrue?” Her lashes lowered over her mesmerizing eyes. Her lips remained slightly parted, ready to accept his should he dare to sample.

  He leaned closer, his cheek grazing hers as he whispered in her ear, “I want your loyalty.”

  She snickered lasciviously. “Is that all?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve told you it’s not mine to give.” She ran her cheek along his, moaned softly, and pushed a knee between his legs. “You’re a strange man. So cold and unyielding. Does it tempt you to be close to me?”

  He stepped away, letting her go and regretting it. “What do you know about General Wyther?”

  Melia slinked away from the wall, returning to her seat and her drink. She sipped. Her thumb circled the side of the glass. He wanted it to touch him in that same way, to draw over every tingling inch of his body.

  She smirked. “Jeremy told me a great deal about you and your plans. I know of your alliance.”

  “When was the last time you saw him?” He shivered, wondering just who and what she was now. Jeremy would not have betrayed him. Not over threats from the Empire and not for…sex? Jealousy burned him. He clenched his teeth together and waited.

  “It has been several days.”

  “You know he’s dead.” He retrieved the bottle and topped off her goblet. Staring at her face, he tried to read her when he asked, “Did you kill him?”

  She said nothing. A chill ran down his spine.

  The com tone sounded, and Enrue growled at the interruption. “What!”

  “My Shiemir,” his secretary stated. “I have disturbing news.” She cleared her throat, and he knew the distressed sound in her voice. “Jorin wishes to speak to you.”

  “Tell him I’ll return his com after my meeting.”

  “He’s not on the com, my Shiemir. He’s here…with me.” Something bumped and tapped in the background. “And he has some vids you should look at…now.”

  Enrue reached out to Melia. She placed her fingers in his hand. Heat ran through his body, passion, fire and an eerie feeling of déjà vu. “Will you excuse me?”

  She nodded, her expression contrite.

  “I’ll be there in a moment, Nema.” The com clicked off. Enrue stood there with Melia’s hand in his, his thumb brushing back and forth across her knuckles. He didn’t want to leave her, to break this strange, euphoric moment. For the first time in his life, he felt connected to another person—not like he had with his wife. Theirs was an arrangement of sorts. This was different and not realized enough to be anything more than a trivial pulse, a beginning, a change.

  “Hurry back, Enrue,” she said, her voice husky. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

  “Try not to drink too much. It’ll make you say things you might regret.” Reticent, he pulled his hand away.

  She smiled. “Maybe I want to say something like that.”

  He backed to the door. It slid open. He stood there a long while memorizing her face, her shape, her scent. When I return, I’m taking her to my bed. The game ends now. I will have her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  A New Leader

  Sima stared out the window of the cottage she and Razi called home, seeing but not seeing the gravel road. Her fingers thrummed on the sill. She chewed her lower lip, as was her way when she was nervous. Behind her, Lensi stirred a cup of tea, the scent of it minty and strong. The Habiri Sister had come with a proposition, and Sima didn’t want to agree to it without speaking to her husband.

  “He’ll be angry I asked you at all.” Lensi cleared her throat.

  “I know. He probably told you not to ask, didn’t he?”

  “He did.”

  Sima twisted a lock of her hair, staring at the road, willing Razi to come home—now. No familiar shape of a man sauntered along. There was only the amaranth waving at her in the cool breeze. She gave up and turned to face Lensi. “What about Leuj? Is he involved?”

  “Yes.” Lensi sipped at her tea, her green eyes misty. She set the mug down. “Very. He still has connections. They don’t know it’s him, but he knows all the right words. He knows the black market trade routes, and we use them to smuggle things…people, supplies, weapons…whatever will help the cause.” She shifted her weight. The chair creaked in protest.

  “And what about my father?”

  The woman shrugged. “What about him?” She dropped another spoonful of sugar in her tea, stirring, the spoon tick-tick-ticking. “You can’t say his motivations aren’t noble.”

  “Do you know for sure?” Sima sat down beside Razi’s friend, old fears emerging. She didn’t want to go back, but the more she thought about helping those tribes in the mountains, the more she remembered the little girl who hid her from the police, and the more guilt ate at her heart. She had the power to do something, to get people out, to teach them how to stand up for themselves. All the Unangi lacked was an organized government to face the factions ruling the planet. “Well, do you?”

  Lensi knocked on the tabletop, her eyes grim. “Is anything ever really for sure?”

  “No. I guess not.” She cast her gaze down to the floor.

  “Razi means well,” Lensi said. “I know he does. But he’s always been different. He never wanted out of Hicklan. He came to me after you paid for his freedom and really didn’t know what to do with himself.”

  Rubbing her temple, Sima sighed. “You think I should have left him there?”

  “No. No! Of course not. I’m just saying he errs on the side of caution. He’ll take the safe road if he can. You were the only person he ever stepped out of his boundaries for. Talk to him. Make him see what’s right. You’re the only person who can.”

  “Yeah. I’ll try.” She reached across for Lensi’s data sharer and read over the map, scanning it for flaws. “You’ve chosen a representative already?”

  Lensi drank and closed her eyes. “An old shaman. Most of the tribespeople know him. I can’t say they trust him, but we haven’t much choice.” She reached for a frosted roll, bit into it and leaned back.

  Sima knew there was more the sister wasn’t revealing just yet. Lensi bided her time in small ways, sharing only what her audience could handle at any given time. Together they nibbled at the rolls and waited. Razi was late. Very late.

  “What is it?” Sima asked. She placed her hand over Lensi’s. “Just tell me. You’ve chosen me for this for a reason.”

  Lensi nodded. “Your father is in contact with the shaman, apparently to return two artifacts to the Unangi people. We’re certain it’s in exchange for access through the mountain passes. He needs Hemec to fund the war he’s planning on bringing about. There are other resources, but by taking Irnia, and in turn, taking the mountains, this will be the most cost effective route.”

  “I don’t want to see my father again.” She wondered just how much Lensi knew, but was afraid to ask. The less she knew about her father’s contacts, the better.

  “Just talk to the shaman. Meet with him. Explain the politics. The Unangi need someone from the inside.”

  “You mean they need someone who knows how my father thinks.”

  The door opened. Razi tossed his jacket across the couch and pursed his full lips when he saw Lensi. He shut the door, bypassed the women and leaned against the wall.

  “Hi, hon. How was your day?” Sima rose to go and hug him. “I missed you.”

  He glared over her shoulder, slipping his
arms around her waist. “What did she tell you?”

  Lensi groaned.

  Sima liked how he smelled after he came home from the mill, the flavor of ground wheat clinging to his skin, his clothes. He was tired and by the looks of it, cranky as hell. She ran her fingers up and down his lower back, hoping to calm him. He didn’t let go.

  “Well,” he whispered in her ear. “What did my old friend tell you?”

  “She wants me to go to the mountains for a while.” She kissed his cheek and waited.

  “No.” He squeezed her against his chest. “No, you’re not going back there. Neither am I.” Razi raised one hand and pointed at Lensi. “You get out with your rebellion. Go. You’re not welcome in my house anymore.”

  Lensi stood and pushed in her chair. “She’ll make her own decisions.”

  “She’s my wife. Whatever we do, we do it together.” He kissed Sima’s forehead, a swift peck without emotion. Releasing her, he took three steps, grabbed Lensi’s chunky arm and led her out. “Consider our friendship over.” His voice started to rise. “Don’t com, no more letters through Folar, no more…anything!” He opened the door, shoved her out and slammed it before she could protest.

  “That’s the end of it,” he muttered. He tore off his shirt and threw it on the floor. Fingering the clasp on his belt, he shook his head. “Don’t talk to her again. Crazy crap she’s into. She’ll get us killed.”

  “Razi, you’re wrong.”

  “No.” He tugged his belt through the loops. “I’m not wrong.”

  “This from the man who said marrying Leuj wasn’t as bad as I thought.” She threw up her hands. “You’re afraid. You’ve always been. You never want to do something bigger than yourself.”

  The belt flew through the air, the buckle thumping on the table before it fell to the tiled floor. Sima stared down at it. He bent to unfasten his shoes, set them by the couch and stomped to the bathroom. The shower turned on.

  “Great.” She followed after him and stared at his silhouette through the frosted glass door. He scrubbed his body, the scent of organic soap lingering in the swiftly heating air. Mist rose and Sima stripped off her blouse and bra. “I’m joining you.”

  He opened the door and peeked out at her. “You won’t change my mind. It’s for the best.” Water made his chocolate-colored skin shiny. It dribbled down his lips and chin. He narrowed his eyes.

  “Bad day at work?” She pushed off her skirt and panties. The fabric puddled on the floor at her feet.

  “Yeah, bad day. The grinder seized again.” His eyes shifted and she knew he was taking in her body, drinking in her curves as he always did. He swallowed and returned to his shower, leaving the door open.

  She pushed it wider and stepped in beside him. He gripped her waist and guided her beneath the spray. Water poured down her skin, hot and sensual. “What are we doing here in Alga anyway?” she asked him.

  He kissed her neck, his crotch pressed to her buttocks. For a long time, he ran his hands over her curves while he laved her neck with his experienced tongue. “We’re trying to be happy here. That’s all. Just trying to survive.”

  She turned to face him, his growing erection a hint of what was soon to tease her. “Is it enough what we’re doing, Razi?”

  He frowned. The coolness returned to his eyes, something she rarely saw there. He was always happy, positive and almost ridiculous in his ease of manner, but not now. “I don’t know,” he finally answered.

  Slick hands palmed her ass. He lifted her and crushed her against the shower wall. With practiced precision, he forced his cock into her wetness and stood still, watching her face. Sima drew her legs around him, locking her ankles behind his ass.

  “I won’t do anything without you,” she said. “You know that.”

  He nodded, captured her mouth with his, and kissed her deeply.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Target

  Melia snapped her data sharer shut. She didn’t feel right. “I should have killed him by now,” she muttered. Fifteen minutes had passed and still Enrue had not returned. Instinct told her to get the hell out. Not one to go against good sense, she shoved her sharer into her pocket, drank down another gulp of the Shiemir’s liquor and headed for the passage she’d been led in by, her wrists still tingling where he’d grasped them.

  The door’s design was old school, something from at least ten years ago and easy to reconfigure. She tapped on the key panel, recoding and hacking through the security system. After several minutes, the door popped and opened enough for her to slip her fingers inside and tug it wider. She squeezed past it into the dim passage. Her shoes made small echoing thumps as she sprinted through the portal. Thinking it best not to go the way she’d come in, she went in the opposite direction.

  Like most palaces, there were service entries to the room allowing maids to come and go with little notice. She found one and recoded the door to allow her entry into the dark chamber beyond. Stepping onto the carpeted floor, she realized it was a bedroom. Someone slept on the single bed near a closed window. The snoring woman was in her fifties, judging by the lines of her face. “Perfect,” Melia whispered. She placed a hand over the woman’s exposed upper arm and closed her eyes, concentrating.

  Her skin raced with prickles. Pain shot through her nerves, but she knew how to resist the urge to cry out after so many years of training. Bones shifted. Warmth passed through her. The locks of hair on her back shortened and Melia let out a held breath. She took a step back, glanced at her hands and nodded, satisfied. Wrinkles covered them and the nails were short, manicured for utility rather than beauty, a perfect copy of the sleeper’s.

  One mustn’t forget the finishing touches. She located the woman’s closet and hurried to dress in a plain, gray uniform, discarding her own black dress in the laundry chute. She traded shoes and headed out into the main passages, unnoticed by the few maids who walked by her. Out of experience, she averted her unusual eyes, nodding or lifting her hand in a polite wave when needed.

  Weaving through halls and grand rooms to the lesser storage areas, she found her way out through a loading bay. Melia ambled along the side of the road, eased past the security gates where one of the guards seemed to recognize her stolen face, and hailed a shuttle.

  As she watched the Tarafian city streets whiz by, she kept replaying the meeting with Enrue. She knew he’d disagree, that he’d try to turn her to his cause. All crazy diplomats were the same. “So why is he different?” she whispered. Touching his skin had ignited a fire in her core. After he’d pressed her against the wall, she was disappointed when he released her. She’d wanted him to force himself on her, and she’d have let him.

  Melia shook her head, trying to displace the thoughts racing through her mind. This is too dangerous. Maybe I should ask to be reassigned. But she’d never done so before now. Sure, she’d used her hits, gone farther than most assassins would, but it was out of… “What?” she suddenly wondered. “What kind of sick person am I?” It had never bothered her before now.

  The cabbie shot her a curious look in his rear view mirror.

  And I’m talking to myself too. She groaned. “How much longer?”

  “We’re almost there, Miss.” He had that same slow accent most Tarafians spoke with. It got on her nerves. “Are you feeling all right?”

  She frowned and glanced at her hands, still the same wrinkles, the same stolen shape. “Yes, why?”

  “You look a little pale.” He punched in another command on his console, still watching her.

  “I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” Holding the shift was draining her energy. She needed to get to the hotel, gather her thoughts and get a grip on herself. She wondered if Collin would still be awake. She needed to be with someone. That realization startled her, but it was true.

  * * * *

  Enrue and Jorin kept pace in the hall, set on a mission to interrogate the Cossia. The Shiemir was displeased and only a little frightened of how close he’d let himself get to
her. He clenched his teeth together, a muscle twitching in his cheek. When the two men reached the door to the meeting room and he keyed in the code, Jorin broke the thick silence.

  “She was sent to kill you, my Shiemir. I’m certain.”

  Enrue grunted. “If that’s so, then why am I still alive?”

  Jorin sighed. He reached into his jacket and withdrew a syringe. “I don’t know. But I can find out. It won’t take long.” He sneered. “I can find out everything the Empire’s messenger knows.”

  The door made a whispering sound when it opened. Enrue peered at the glass and the empty bottle on the table. Her chair stood empty. Even before he stepped inside, he knew she was gone. Jorin swept in before him and stalked around in a circle, anger darkening his features. He replaced the syringe, ran a hand over his bald head and glared. “You need better security. This is unacceptable.” He lifted Melia’s glass, sniffed at it and set it down. “Maybe O’ka was right about you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Enrue leaned on the chair he’d sat in earlier. He eyed Jorin’s stern countenance, suspicious. “What did she say to you?”

  “She said you’re not cautious enough; you don’t protect yourself.” He replaced the cap on the bottle, shaking his head. “This Cossia was sent to kill you. And here I see you sat and leisurely discussed the situation over liquor. You’re lucky, Enrue. But one day, if you’re not careful, your luck will run out.” He tapped his jacket with meaning. “You should let me handle your security. I can run an inspection, revamp where necessary.”

  Enrue rubbed his temple and forehead with one shaking hand, trying to settle himself. “Are you certain the vids aren’t forged?”

  “You saw them yourself, but yes. I ran a scan on them. They’re authentic. This Melia…she’s the one Jeremy was with the night he died. The vid shows her in the hall outside his room, both of them arm in arm. She’s an assassin, Shiemir. If you can’t see it, you’re as blind as he was.”