Melia studied the run-down hotel. Indeed, it was worthy of demolition, but still, people walked in and out the old-fashioned turning doors. Three of the windows were cracked, old polymer-makes no longer considered fashionable. “You have Moquai Alonwei here as well?”
“Yes.” He parked the shuttle in the valet and tipped the server. The two assassins walked side by side toward the door. “She can watch us tonight. Maybe I will take her like I took you.” He ran a finger along Melia’s arm causing goosebumps. “Do you want to watch me do it?”
Melia snorted, almost breaking into a chuckle. “I’m surprised you haven’t taken her already. You’re always horny. Insatiable lust.”
His lips twisted in a snarl. “That’s not true.”
She shook her head. “Oh? You can resist me? No man can. You know that.” She planted the seed of defiance at that moment, wondering if he would try to resist his usual urge. “It’s why you chose me for your regiment. You saw my potential.”
They stood while the turning doorway brought them to the inside of the hotel. Red carpet lined the floors, worn away in some places. Daschia took her hand and guided her past the check-in desk, toward the false-antique lift. He pressed the button to trigger the doors to open. “You’ve become conceited. Your body does not weaken my resolve.”
The doors opened with a creak and he shoved her inside. She countered his forcefulness and managed not to fall on her ass. Twisting around to face him, she smirked. “Then it’s a bet. I wager you cannot last the night.”
“How much is this wager you offer?” The doors slid shut and he crossed the small moving chamber to grasp her face in his fingers. “This could be a fun game.”
“I wager the death of the Shiemir. If you lose and take me tonight, you must kill him.” His fingers bit into her skin. For a moment, Melia realized it would not be so difficult to kill her boss. His throat waited only a hand’s reach from her, the veins pulsing beneath his dark skin. His life called to her darkness, tempting her to try it. He would not expect it from her—ever.
He grunted. “You’re on.” His heated grip slipped away and he took a single step backward. “But, by morning, you’ll be begging for me. You know you miss what I do to you.”
She held her tongue. They reached their floor and kept pace with one another. She scanned the way ahead, recognizing Evid from her earlier years in training. His lanky figure and hollow gaze meant little to her, other than the fact that she was not alone with Daschia and his hostage. Her plan twisted in the reaches of her mind. She held back her grin of excitement.
Her boss slipped his keycard in the door slot, releasing the lock. Melia cringed when she waltzed in behind him. The familiar scent of his cologne grew stronger after he shut the door. Three candles sat atop the marred black dining table. Beneath her boots, more red carpeting blazed. As taught, she surveyed the main room, its weaknesses and possible hiding spots. Down the hall, a bedchamber door remained open. Silhouetted in the orange light from the plasma window, the Shiemir’s daughter sat on the edge of a bed, fidgeting with her hands. She did not look up.
A twinge of guilt settled in Melia’s stomach. “Well. There she is.”
Daschia began unbuttoning his shirt, his eyes agleam. “Yes, my clever Chameleon.” He tossed the garment over the back of a chair. His chest bore a smattering of curled hairs in the center, surrounded by intricate tattoo work. He had gained many more since last she saw him nude. He sat down and removed his shoes, soft, comfortable ones fashioned for creeping up in silence. “I need to shower. Care to join me?” His tongue darted out to trace his upper lip.
“No thanks.” Melia circled the metal coffee table, plopped on the end of the couch and slid the few free vid cards across its surface. She pretended to be interested in one until he gave up and tramped down the hall.
“I don’t need you tonight. I’ll just use this one,” he called.
She turned in time to see him hovering over Sima, his grin taunting. Melia shrugged as if his threat meant nothing. “If that’s what pleases you.” She turned back to ignore him until the sound of water rushing hummed in the background.
Chapter Thirty Four
A Trade
Sima wiped the trail of tears from her cheeks. She flinched when her hand brushed the swollen area by her eye where he’d punched her that morning. Her left wrist burned where the dark man had shackled her to the bedpost. Now, it seemed he wanted to rape her as well. Glancing across the hall to the couch, she frowned. The woman he’d brought with him looked familiar. She stood and tossed the card she’d been holding onto the couch and approached, her cat-like eyes unmistakable.
“You.” Sima tensed. “I remember you from Alga.”
The woman halted, nodding once. “You were right. The paints helped.” She bent over, slipped a metal pick into the lock on the shackles and twisted. Her perfume wafted up, light and flowery. “You want to see your father again?”
“Yes.” She gawked at the pick, unsure of what the woman’s intent could be. If she was here, she had to be an enemy.
“Then you do as I say. Don’t try to run. He has guards at the door. They’ll stop you, kill you if they have to, though I’m sure you’re well aware they want you kept alive.”
“Are you helping me?” The shackle opened and fell across the bed pillow.
“Maybe. If what I want to do right now works, just maybe.” She pressed her hands to either side of Sima’s face and stared at her. “Mm. You do have your father’s beautiful eyes. If you don’t see me again, tell him Melia tried to change for him.”
Sima nodded.
“Now, go into the next room. Close the door. Turn the light off and wait for me. I’ll knock three times, okay?” She drew her hands away and kept them at her sides. “Go.”
Sima stood and stumbled out, wondering what this strange woman had planned. Maybe her father had sent her, maybe this all meant something more. Nevertheless, she had no choice but to hide in the darkness and wait.
Not long afterward, the shower stopped. A man hummed and chuckled in the next room. Sima pressed her ear to the wall, eavesdropping.
His low, masculine voice sounded sinister when he spoke. “You and I are gonna have a good time tonight. I see you’re ready for me. You want what I have, don’t you?” He paused. The bed creaked. Then he continued. “I want you to scream. Scream as loud as you want. I need you to make my lover jealous. Maybe she’ll join us. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Melia whimpered, her voice a familiar, pitiful whine.
Not long after, terrified shrieks rent the air. Sima plugged her ears with her fingers, curled in a ball against the wall, and waited for this strange nightmare to end. She thought of Razi and where he might be now. Worse, she thought of Sister Lensi standing in the doorway, her hulking body blocking the assassin’s thievery the day she was murdered.
“Why?” she whispered, over and over. “Why Lensi, why?” She didn’t have to die, didn’t have to stand against the Empire like that…in such a direct way. Sima rocked back and forth until the screams in the next room suddenly died. She unplugged her ears.
She’d overheard her captor on a conference with her father’s secretary. They still had not convinced the Shiemir that she was alive. They’d sent in clippings of her hair, a small section of skin and even blood samples…to no avail. Nevertheless, she knew that a meeting was discussed and would be finalized at the double suns’ set.
Footsteps padded softly outside the room. Someone knocked three times.
Standing on shaky legs, Sima went to open it as she’d been instructed. Wearing a pair of black trousers, her captor stood before her, an impressive vision of masculine prowess, muscles bulging, skin adorned with inked-in diagrams of planets and stars. She glanced over the splash of blood across his cheek, the scratch mark beneath his small sunglasses and frowned. “She’s dead.”
He nodded. “It’s time to go.” He snatched her sore wrist and dragged her forth. As they swept past the open doorway,
she gaped at the body splayed and nude across the bed. Melia’s death had been horrid, her body crooked and broken, her eyes gouged out, her mouth wide. Her screams echoed in Sima’s mind. The man who pulled her along was no man at all, but a ruthless killer. He’d murdered Lensi, now Melia. She could only imagine how many others he’d ended.
Fear curdled her voice. She watched, frozen in place as her captor slipped on a fresh shirt, tucked weapons on his person, and buttoned up the garment. “You stay by me, Sima,” he said as he wet a kitchen cloth and wiped the blood from his face. “I need to trade you now. This game ends today.”
“Yes,” she squeaked.
He left her and soon returned with socks and his odd, soft soled shoes.
“Just let me go. Please.” It slipped out and it wasn’t the first time. Those same words had caused him to strike her before. This time, he raised his head and frowned. “That’s up to the Shiemir.”
“He doesn’t care about me. He won’t give you what you want. Not for me. He’ll trade no one for me.” She knelt on the blood-red carpet and begged. “I’m nothing to him, not even a pawn anymore.”
Her captor slid a length of black fabric from the end of the couch where he sat, his face cold and unreadable. He swathed his head and mouth with the scarf, hiding his identity. “Nonsense.” He held out his hand to her, the same hand that had mutilated the dead woman in the other room, the same hand that had slapped her, bruising her eye that morning.
Cringing, she took it and let him guide her to the black table. He snatched up a silver data sharer, flicked it open and commed out. Tapping his foot, he waited.
She peered over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of her father in the recliner in his bedchamber, his shirt and hair a mess. He looked thinner and more troubled than usual. His face registered a nasty grimace of disappointment or disgust—she couldn’t be sure which one.
“Hello, Enrue,” her captor began, tilting his glasses down the bridge of his nose. “I have something that belongs to you. Something pretty.” He tugged her into view of the sharer’s eye. “You have the samples we sent? You had them tested?”
He nodded.
“Do you agree to the trade?” He shoved Sima sideways. She lost her balance and landed on her back, thankful for the old carpet’s padding.
Her father’s voice droned low and controlled. “I arranged the meeting place.”
“And where would the noble Shiemir of Taraf like to negotiate this agreement?”
“Forty-third and Masin. Alone, you and I…and the children we hold.”
Her captor chuckled. “A fine choice. But you know as well as I do, I am not alone.”
Sima regained her footing and peered at the sharer, hoping to catch her father’s eye, to have his attention, if only for a second of time. Don’t do it, she mouthed, but he kept his eyes on the man he addressed. “No,” she blurted, but her captor ignored her as well.
“How soon?” Daschia reached across the table, his dark finger hovering over the disconnect.
Her father hummed before he answered. “An hour’s time. Any chance you’ll bring Melia with you?”
The tone sounded and the com ended, her father’s question left unanswered. Steel fingers gripped Sima’s wrist. Hauled through the room to the door, they waited for it to slide on its runners and finally left.
“Daschia, wh—”
Sima faced the guard outside the door, a tall, muscular man with piercing eyes and large teeth. He jingled when he stepped forth, his long jacket hiding something metal beneath its folds.
“It’s time for the trade.” Daschia nodded his head once. “Bring the others. We’re meeting in the city in an hour. I want to be there early to set you all up in position. The Shiemir will try to trick us.” He jerked Sima into a walk.
Crossing the hotel’s long hall, Sima prayed someone would open a door and take notice of her, but no one did.
Chapter Thirty Five
Son-in-Law
The Shiemir stood on the other side of the one-way plasma window staring at the man who claimed to be his son-in-law. He hadn’t believed his daughter was still alive, or any of the evidence the Empire had sent to him, but this man raised doubts. He knew things the Empire could not know. Childhood stories, memories only Sima could have told him. He rubbed his temple, his jaw clenched with stress.
The sweet taste of Melia’s perfume and even the underlying feminine scent of her skin tickled his senses. He was not fooled by O’Ka’s pheromones though. She joined him, standing shoulder to shoulder as he decided what to do. Her sultry voice purred by his ear. “I think this is a trick.”
He shook his head. “If so, it’s well done.”
“I do not trust this one.” She touched the window with one long, painted nail, frowning. “He is very good to look at, but I don’t think your daughter is alive. She would have contacted you.”
“No. That I can be sure of. She would never have contacted me for anything if she got away.” For the first time, it pained him to realize how much Sima must have hated him. “She tried to run away so many times.”
“Ungrateful child,” O’ka muttered. She reached over and knitted her fingers with his, her touch warm and appealing. Her scent changed ever so slightly to something more intense. “This is why I have no children.”
He squeezed her hand once and pulled away. “You have no children because you kill all your husbands.”
She snorted out a small laugh. “They bored me after a time. It is the way of the nylenth. I am an Empress. I need a man who can hold my attentions for longer than a few months.” She swept her hair from her shoulder, the shiny black, mass-like strands of silk showing blue in the light. “Perhaps you are up to the challenge?”
He could not deny she tempted him. The stress, the way she copied Melia’s scent. His gaze flickered over her breasts, cleverly ensconced in glittering red fabric. Imagining they would fit neatly into the palms of his hands, he licked his lower lip. “No.” He raised his eyes to hers. “No, I don’t think I could keep you entertained for more than a few hours, O’ka. I’m flattered you would suggest such a thing.”
Ruby lips spread over her smile, fangs sharp and dangerous, yet alluring. “How humble you are.” Her fingers rose to trace his ear, teasing the lobe before drawing away. “That is what I admire about you. It’s the quiet men who do not boast of their prowess who are most capable of pleasing a woman.”
His face flushed hot and he backed to the door. “Enough of that now.” He pressed the keys to open the door, ready to confront the man waiting for him. “Come with me. Here and at the meeting with that Kyleena bastard who has my daughter. I need someone I can trust at my side.”
“Of course.” She edged along the wall, keeping pace.
He faced the Unangi man, who stood and offered his hand. Enrue took it, shook curtly and let go. “Thank you for coming here with your news. Razi, is it?”
He nodded and cleared his throat. “Sir, Sima and I…well, I have known her since she fled her bodyguards in Irnia these months past. She ran away—”
“I know my daughter and why she did what she did.”
“Yes. Of course.” He frowned, gathering his words. “She’s my wife, my Shiemir. We were married in Alga. Please, you must believe me. We have to get her back. I don’t know what else to do, who else to turn to.”
The Shiemir held up one hand. “I don’t know whether to believe you or place you in holding for more questioning. My daughter, if that’s who she really is, will be traded for another hostage in less than an hour’s time, if all goes as planned.”
“It’s a trap,” O’ka muttered from her position at Enrue’s side.
“I know what it is, O’ka.” Enrue looked Razi up and down. He sighed and shook his head. “Regardless. I must go. I must know the truth or the darkness of these lies.”
“They’ll kill you,” she shot back.
He shrugged. Addressing Razi, his countenance softened. “I suppose it is a pleasure to meet you, al
beit the circumstances are bizarre. If indeed my daughter lives and you are her husband, I owe you my apologies.” He straightened his sash out of habit. “Come with me for this trade.”
“Yes, yes, of course I will. I’ll do anything you ask.” Razi stared from the Shiemir to O’ka and back. “I can shoot a weapon. I’ll kill those Kyleena bastards if I have to.”
O’ka grunted and offered her hand to him. “Perhaps you are not so useless.” Her eyes glittered with their usual darkness. “Tell me, Unangi, how many have you killed in your time? Are you a soldier in the rebel army?”
“No. I worked in a mill before we came here.” He looked down at the floor and went on. “Sima and I, we joined with the Habiri Church to help my people in the jungles.”
The Shiemir interrupted. “Your people are under my protection. I cannot trust you with a gun, but come with O’ka and I. If something happens, if things go wrong in the place we are to meet for this exchange, you must do everything in your power to get my daughter to safety.”
* * * *
The building looked just the same as it had when he’d left it, cold and empty. He still felt that way too. Enrue stepped out of the shuttle in the alley, O’Ka and Razi close behind. He held his hand up at them. “I need you to wait here. I promised to come alone. If I don’t, they might kill her on sight.”
O’Ka clicked her tongue in a way only a nylenth could and flashed her teeth. “I will avenge your death if they take you,” she vowed. “A bloody assault to be hailed in the history vids for ages to come. The Empire will know my wrath. All of Kyleena will fear my name.”
Enrue pursed his lips. Her aggressive nature made her well-suited as his second. He knew what she said she meant and would do all in her power to bring about.
Razi stepped forth, looking awkward. “Let me go with you. She’s my wife.”
“She was my daughter first. I’m certain I owe her more than you could possibly imagine.” He opened the rear of the shuttle and guided his hostage out. Blindfolded and gagged, the young girl was silent and submissive, following his lead. He turned his sights on the old door, already ajar. Instinct told him this was a trap. O’ka was right. He would die this day and his daughter too, if she wasn’t dead already.
Urden, God of Desire Page 16