Val twitched more awake. “That’s funny?” he asked, raising his head.
“While the stockholders’ lawyers are chasing their tails, we’re getting back to work. I’d like a chance to share planet-altering strategies with the Commonwealth,” said Bill, tapping a chopstick on his ration carton. “We need to unearth whole black-ops divisions of Rio Sardis and make them face sunlight for the first time in almost two hundred years. Central League economies shouldn’t drain the frontier worlds for resources. And I want New Ventana to become a fucking public relations miracle. We’re going to need it, and fast.”
“I can find the Ventana survivors,” said Hegen. “We’re a tough bunch. You show good faith in repairing our poor battered rock, we’ll back you.”
“Great,” said Moro. “I really have to go to school for business law now. Think Cedar University would finally take me?”
“Like hell,” Val began, waking a little more.
“Not a chance, Director,” said Bill. “You’re smart. You’ll do remote studies at secure locations. You’re a target.” He pointed the chopstick at Val. “He’s a target. Everyone on this ship is now a target for someone’s assassination plot. Terra Prima has been shocked to its core and its hold on League politics threatened. Don’t think it won’t fight back. The next few weeks could be very interesting. They will be rather less interesting if you offer character witness for me, Director. I can help you better outside of jail.”
Alys Antonin laid down the elaborate Sonta knife she’d been examining. “Moro will be returning with Valier to Camonde. Parliament has to ratify Valier’s choice.”
“They can’t make me give him up,” Val said.
“Or you’ll abdicate? Your mother is seriously considering it. Maitland is on his way home to discuss the matter.”
“Are my parents ashamed of Moro or me?” Val asked, too calmly.
“Hey, I’m in the r-room,” Moro said, furious at how quickly the room’s friendly peace evaporated. Over him! “May I—”
“The League, the Sonta, and the Commonwealth all have valid claims on Moro,” said Alys. “And therefore upon you, Valier. Those claims probably won’t be settled quickly. In the last thirty hours, you’ve seen why the Commonwealth cannot be left without an Antonin heir. Cama won’t push you either way, but you’re old enough to understand why this is more important than any of us. This won’t be the first time Cama has encouraged two or more potential heirs to exist at once. The Antonins don’t have civil wars over who gets the throne. Usually it goes to the one who didn’t run away fast enough.”
Cama was silent within Moro. He felt Val tremble against him. Moro hugged Val closer. “It’s not a bad thing, Val, having a little brother or sister,” he whispered in Val’s ear. “I’ve missed mine.”
In her female Vessel, Aksenna made an inelegant snort. “You forget the real problem.”
She gestured at Val. “Valier is heir and bound to Taimoro. If Taimoro dies, the shock could not only destroy Valier but your empire. A shameful weakness.”
“We’ve mitigated it before,” said Alys, glaring at the Sonta woman.
“You shouldn’t need to. Let the Camali empress create another heir. Let Taimoro and Valier return to my worldships without delay so we may begin healing the damage done by Volker. Only thus do you safeguard the life of this heir.”
Moro felt Val flinch.
“So you can pervert my poor son even more?” Alys snarled, standing up. “I know what he’ll have to do among Sonta to prove his claim on Moro!”
Aksenna laughed. “Nothing he isn’t already willing, capable, or inclined to do! He is a golden flame amid Camali ashes. Would you quench his splendor because you’re afraid of it?”
“Enough,” snapped Moro. “If y-y-you’re going to argue about us l-like we’re not here, we’re l-leaving.” He grabbed Val in both arms, flexed the still-strong muscles which obeyed his every command, and stood up. He held Val across his body like a shield. “Bill? Open the d-damned d-door.”
“Yes, Director,” said Bill, his smile widening.
“Valier!” Alys yelled, at the same time Aksenna hissed “Taimoro!”
“For the n-next, oh, t-twelve hours or s-so, Val and I are s-s-still m-married,” said Moro over his shoulder as he stalked out of the room. “S-s-sort it out.”
Ninety
THE STATEROOM DOOR shut behind them, locked by the codes Bill Sardis had whispered to Moro.
“My poor love,” said Val, still in Moro’s arms. “They made you stammer again.”
Moro leaned back against the door. He frowned, silent and furious, panting as much from fury as the exertion of carrying Val. Was the residual stammer going to haunt him every time he got worked up? It wasn’t going to help him navigate through Rio Sardis politics and rebuild Ventana. And how would it look for Val’s Knife to appear tongue-tied in public?
“It’s all right. Kind of adorable, actually,” Val said, wriggling in Moro’s grip. “I can’t believe you carried me. Over both thresholds. And down a corridor. On a boat with artificial gravity, no less.” After Val’s feet touched the carpet, he still pressed against Moro, clutching Moro’s shirt in his fists. “That is nearly the most stupidly romantic thing I’ve ever seen. Tell me they didn’t do that on—”
“On V-Ventana,” said Moro, holding his husband close, “we’d wear r-red. R-r-run between t-two bonfires, sh-share the first cup, the first p-plate, and the first d-dance.” He leaned down, breathing in the scent of Val’s hair and skin. When he spoke again, his voice was slow but stronger. “People would tell the raunchiest jokes. Sing the worst songs. All to make us squirm. And we couldn’t leave until we were really embarrassed, and our mothers or their stand-ins gave us permission to go.”
“And then?”
“And then,” Moro said, looking around the stateroom for possibilities, “we’d hide somewhere for a few days and fuck ourselves silly.”
Val’s answering grin faltered. “Are you—”
“Able?” Moro pulled Val’s fingers down his chest and abdomen, toward proof of certain functions. “I’m not going to die tonight. Or tomorrow. Cama and Aksenna both think I can be repaired among the Sonta. Oh, Val, stop thinking about it,” he finished, bending down again.
A long kiss refocused Val where Moro wanted him, all breathless, dizzy need and no care for the future.
“Bed,” Val groaned, fingers working the fasteners on Moro’s shirt.
Moro remembered seeing the bed on his earlier beeline toward the shower. Big, soft, white sheets, quilted russet covers stuffed with warm microfiber. No Rio Sardis charcoal gray or platinum anywhere.
“No.” Moro batted Val’s hands away, dropping his own toward Val’s hips. “Not yet. My turn. Let me strip you first. I want to see you again.” Down went his trousers, briefs, and thermal socks. A quick shrug as Val kicked off his boots and tangled clothes. The ugly tan shirt came last, slid off his shoulders and halfway down his arms. Moro left it there, a slight, seemingly accidental restraint.
Val trembled, fully erect, excited as much by the delicate bondage as by standing naked in front of a clothed Moro. Moro nudged him backward until Val’s calves stopped against a low, sculpted wood chair.
“Down,” Moro ordered. Val sat, spine straight and proud. Moro shifted Val’s body forward a little, pushing the slim brown legs up and apart. “Hold your legs up,” said Moro. Val grasped his ankles and pulled back. His balls quivered as Moro bent to breathe on them.
Moro stepped back. The stateroom lamps cast a warm glow over the prince splayed in his chair. Val’s blush still went all the way down.
“What?” Val watched, obedient, trusting but puzzled, as Moro shucked his own clothes. “On a chair?”
“You’ll see. Let go now,” Moro coaxed, going to one knee in front of him. He draped Val’s legs over his shoulders.
He reached under the chair for the sealed bulb of lubricant he’d found in the bathroom while Val showered earlier. Not Lyton’s chosen bran
d, fortunately. “Push out,” Moro told Val. “You might still be stretched, but you need to be slicked.”
“Don’t make me wait too long,” Val said, groaning as Moro’s lubed thumb pressed into him. Val’s head tipped back, exposing the lines of his throat. “More.”
“How much?”
“Not fingers,” Val said.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I want it. A jump start on the Sonta?”
“Forget whatever you think you know about the Sonta. It’s likely to be wrong. Just be here, with me.” Moro clasped Val’s lifted thighs and thrust into him.
Val keened and tried to move, but the angle held him captive between Moro and the chair. Val’s hands twisted against Moro’s chest, but Val didn’t push him away. When Val struggled to reach for his own erection, Moro stopped him.
“On my cock alone,” he whispered, riding out Val’s shuddering response.
Moro took him slowly, ruthlessly, reveling in the noises Val made as Moro brought him toward the brink. Even so, it scoured his soul, knowing the skill came from the arena, or from Lyton. Had Lyton’s mind first devised this little scene and left it behind like a cursed gift?
Then he wondered if it came from his alternate self, the man who’d dared to love a star-eater.
Cama might be riding Val’s lust, but she was silent within Moro, less a voyeur than a safeguard ready to stop him. He didn’t blame her caution.
Their mingled scents filled the air, filled Moro’s mouth and nose with the promise of Val’s taste. But not yet. Moro had to answer a challenge, for his sake and Val’s.
Val was nearly beyond words, moaning his hunger, when Moro sped up his cadence. He slammed into Val’s tight, hot body, lifting the chair itself a few inches. “Valier,” he murmured as Val focused on him. “Think of Camonde. Think of the Sunburst Throne.”
Lust and panic mingled in Val’s wide eyes. “No,” he began.
“Yes,” chanted Moro, close to release himself. “Think of taking me this way, right there. On your throne.”
Val screamed, body clenching in powerful spasms, fingernails dragging welts across Moro’s skin.
That pain was all Moro needed to follow.
Climax blasted through Moro’s mind in a purifying torrent.
ONCE CONSCIOUS AGAIN, Moro decided he’d never smelled anything as musky and rich as Val’s release. He followed the scent down to its source. Licking, laving, swallowing, until the lily-bud cock was relaxed and clean.
Val groaned. He dragged Moro’s face toward his. Their tongues tangled slowly in a deep kiss, Val greedily seeking out the traces of his own release. The awkward virgin from the Vaclav rooftop seemed long gone. Even dazed by the afterglow, Moro wondered bitterly how much Lyton had done to Val.
While Moro fell into darkness, Lyton would have wasted no time in claiming Val for his own. Moro knew there was a part of Val that would have kindled at Lyton’s touch. The same weakness lay in Moro too.
They needed Sonta help to control it. Moro couldn’t hope Lyton was dead.
“Who are you?” Val asked, his hand caressing Moro’s jaw. Very close to an important artery, Moro realized.
He could be nothing less than honest. “Yours. Moro. Mostly. I remember bits of Lyton, and something of a man who was born eighty thousand years ago in another universe. And a kind of star-eater. I think. I’m not making any sense, am I?”
“How much of Lyton?” Val’s hand softened, touching the bruise on Moro’s chin.
Moro had a disturbing idea how he’d got it. “Not much, and fading. Nothing we can’t control.” Kneeling before his prince, Moro smiled. “Nothing you can’t control, with a little training.”
Val’s face sharpened, nearly hungry again. “You really want this? My darker side?”
“Whenever I don’t, I’ll tell you.” Moro brought Val’s fingers back to the fresh scrapes on his chest. “Maybe Lyton and the arena warped me. Maybe it’s just being Sonta. But it’s real, and sometimes I need it to feel alive.”
“I can do that,” said Val, shifting his legs down around Moro’s hips. His body eased forward, catching the tip of Moro’s big cock in his pulsing channel. Val’s breath hitched. Moro knew the image burning in his lover’s mind. Knew, before Val asked, “Would you really let me love you? In public? On the Sunburst Throne in front of Parliament?”
“How much trouble would it get us into?” Moro asked, moving once more within Val. “Enough to get you completely sacked as crown prince?”
Val’s laugh was clear and shameless and echoed by Cama’s.
Glossary
Silly me, I thought I was starting to write a fairly simple space opera romp back in 2011. To save on brand-new worldbuilding, I used some background characters and a setting from one of the future time periods of my much larger universe. Moro’s story instantly became linked to a godawful big setting and history. I don’t regret it, since my pattern-matching little brain came up with so many logical reasons for Moro to be part of that larger story arc.
However, many of my erotic romance readers have expressed confusion over the number of names, titles, and tribes mentioned.
To help make up for that, here is a barely alphabetized, hastily edited, and probably faulty glossary-appendix for those of you who actually care about such things.
_______
Adam Hegen, last name pronounced more like ‘HAY gun’: human medic and spy, posing as a bondslave assigned to Michol Kott’s arena combat company, and specifically responsible for Moro’s health. Hegen’s face and body have been rebuilt. He has another employer and a secret identity as someone Moro once knew on Ventana: Dr. Carson, father of Moro’s girlfriend Demetra.
Aiyon (called Aiyon Sonta), pronounced ‘eye OWN’: a powerful and devious star-eater (Ksala) whose signature fires are amethyst purple. Is obsessed by/in love with the star-eater Tena.
Aksenna (called Aksenna Sonta), pronounced ‘ak SEN ah’: a star-eater known for her ancient insanity, lingering sadism, and strong sense of honor. Her signature is orange-pink fire.
Alys Antonin ne’Cama: Liatana’s Knife, Ambassador to Cedar, Liatana’s female mate, and official second mother to Valier, though he calls her ‘Aunt’. A former marine, Alys keeps up her physical training and is one of the few Camalians with confirmed enemy kills to her name. Note: the ne’Cama suffix is a Camalian honorific meaning ‘of Cama’.
Antonin, pronounced ‘ANN toe neen’: the Royal Family of the Camalian Commonwealth, direct descendants of Maya and Jamal Antonin. They are bred and engineered for the mental gifts allowing them to function as emotional conduits for Cama and the entire Commonwealth. To physically announce the presence of these abilities, the Antonin Royals show distinct markers: brown-gold skin paired with startlingly bright blond hair and pale-golden to amber eyes rimmed black around the irises. They tend to be short in stature. Their facial features tend to show Old Earth African and south-Asian influences, but that can be said for many Commonwealth citizens.
Anyatisa Aksenna Sonta, pronounced ‘on yah TEE sah’: also called ‘Anya Weaver’ or ‘Anya Dalgleish’. Moro’s Sonta mother, who masqueraded as human while she studied Sonta ruins in the Terran League. She met Merrick Dalgleish on a dig site on Ventana, fell in love with him, and convinced Merrick to return with her to the Aksenna Sonta tribe. Died on Ventana at Moro’s birth.
Apex worlds: the longest-settled and richest planets of the Terran League, known for high technology, sprawling cities, and labyrinthine politics. Several of them are owned/governed outright by the biggest megacorporations. Many of them, for no reason known to this author, are named for historical sites or tree species of Old Earth.
The Banner Queens: three mysterious and possibly immortal rulers of a Sonta empire in a neighboring galaxy. They alone apparently have the power to create or repair the technology the Sonta use to enslave star-eaters. The Sonta races are essentially exiles cast out of their own empire for unknown reasons by the Banner Queens. Sonta tribes may onl
y return when the star-eaters in their care evolve into Lifebringers. This doesn’t seem to happen often.
Bazo, full name Bazilio Malkovski: sadistic arena fighter defeated and killed by the Diamond (Moro).
Bond, Bonder, Bondslave: Judicially implemented slavery common in the Terran League and unknown in the Camalian Commonwealth. Individuals and entire families can go into bond, often for multiple generations. Financial losses, bankruptcy, convicted fraud and other white-collar crimes can lead to a Red-Band sentence, usually paid by nonviolent and mostly humanitarian service. Murder, torture, rape, and treason lead to Black-Band sentences, often carried out in grim mining colonies, dangerous industrial work, and the arena fighting system.
Brightcliff: isolated small planet on the very outskirts of the Terran League, considered an ancient Sonta outpost and possible laboratory world of the White Storm.
Buyout Day: the day when a Terran League colony pays back all its terraforming and colonization debts, and its bondslave population becomes free citizens with a guaranteed income and voting rights in the colony’s future governance. Planetary Buyout Days are afterward considered some of their most important holidays, and are often marked by the founding of new businesses and the manumission of bondslaves. Buyout Families are the original indentured colonists, now full citizens with stipends and varying degrees of aristocracy.
Cama, called Patrona by her Camalian humans, pronounced more like ‘COMM ah’ than ‘KAY mah’: lesser energy being (also called an elemental) somehow related to star-eaters, and terrified of drawing their attention. Her initial bargain with the human dissidents on Terra Prima was intended to hide her golden energy signature within the bodies of millions of virus-converted humans. In return, she gives her humans longer lives and better health, some interesting physical quirks, and a silent background linkage to all other Camalians. The Sonta know her by a slightly different name, and know more of her history than the Camalians do.
Moro's Price Page 35