“So your task is to convert the Selgrens?”
“Putting words in the mouth of your Oracle is sacrilege,” Kirek warned sternly.
“I apologize. I merely try to understand.”
“Understanding isn’t necessary. Obedience is.” Kirek wearied of the conversation. He had no idea if he was truly Tirips’ Oracle. Perhaps he was. He certainly had fulfilled the prophecy. After he and his friends visited the cleric, Kirek had dreamed what must be done. Who was he to say Tirips had not come to him in a dream?
“What would Tirips have us do?”
“The Kwadii must find Nevanna or you will never have peace.”
“Nevanna?”
“Yes.”
“Where is Nevanna?”
“Tirips did not say.”
“What does Nevanna have to do with peace on Kwadii?”
“I do not know, but I have told you all. My mission is done, and I must be free to go. Tirips has other plans for me.”
“You cannot leave Kwadii.” The man’s face turned to one of horror.
“Why not?”
“If you leave, legend says we will tear ourselves apart.”
“Only if I leave in spirit will you fall. As long as the Kwadii believe, as long as you obey Tirips’ laws, the Kwadii will survive.”
“Oracle. We need you to help convert the Selgrens.”
“Tirips has other plans for me.” Kirek kept his tone even, his face grave. “To block my path is to block Tirips’ path.”
At his threat, the man paled, but then as if remembering his job, he squared his shoulders. “What proof do you offer of your singularity?”
Kirek had no answer and so restrained a heavy sigh and countered with a question of his own. “If Tirips herself stood here before you, what would convince you to believe?”
“Please answer my question.”
Kirek closed his eyes. “Your questions tire me. Either believe or don’t. The consequences are yours to face and do not matter to me.”
What mattered was whether L’Matti would keep him here until his body grew weak, whether he could hold firm until the man released him. Kirek had no doubts that the interrogation would continue, that his every word was being recorded. Eventually the pressure and stress might cause him to make a mistake or error in judgment. One slip up of his words could undo everything.
Kirek’s best hope was that Dora and Zical would come to his rescue. But even if they could free themselves, how would they find him?
DORA AND ZICAL ran from the roof of the building where the skimmer had landed down a set of stairs. Quickly, they entered through a set of double doors and into a long hallway lined with a soft flooring, recessed lighting, and a colorful mosaic between many closed doors. The building could be residences or offices or a school. She couldn’t read the curlicue symbols on the doors that they raced past.
The corridor seemed endless. They turned right, left, and left again before the hallway widened. People, Risorians, she guessed by their elegant mode of dress, waited patiently in front of four sets of large double doors. Hearts pounding, fearing someone would discover their real identity and shout for soldiers to arrest them, Dora and Zical slowed their pace and joined the back of the line.
Dora was certain that any moment someone was going to recognize them, but in their Risorian clothing they didn’t stick out. Only one small pink-haired child who hid behind her mother’s legs gave them a second look. Couples spoke to one another in low tones. Two teenagers couldn’t keep their hands off one another, and a younger man helped an older woman stand, protectively keeping his hand on her elbow.
When the double doors ahead opened with an almost silent swish, the line moved forward. People entered a large hexagonal compartment and then turned around to face the opening. As the last people to board, Dora and Zical were nearest the doors when they closed.
Dora expected the transport device to move sideways, but it dropped straight downward. She prayed that when the doors opened, the soldiers they’d seen outside wouldn’t be aiming guns at them. When the compartment stopped moving, the doors opened on another level that looked like the one they’d just departed. Only instead of soft lighting and mosaic walls, here the lighting was brighter and the walls pink stone.
Two people exited, leaving more room within. They dropped again, and this time when the doors opened, Dora stared wide-eyed and Zical had to tug her into a crowded transit station. She suspected from the large cavernous feeling that they were underground. Crowds hurried to an assortment of platforms where long tubular pill-shaped compartments with seats whisked passengers in and out of the terminal.
Despite the subterranean locale and huge overhead fans, the blowing air was quite warm. Dora spied a fountain where people stopped to drink and led Zical there. She drank deeply, the cool water on her parched throat quenching her thirst and rehydrating her body.
“Now what?” she asked, wishing they knew where Kirek was, but feeling less vulnerable among the crowds where no one paid them the slightest attention.
“Pick a transport,” Zical told her. “We need to disappear before those soldiers think to look for us here.”
As if saying the words had summoned them, soldiers marched down a set of moving stairs. Dora’s pulse sped. Every nerve, every instinct told her to run. Yet her brain understood that running would call attention to them. She couldn’t recall ever being so at war with her mind.
Grateful for the arm Zical kept around her waist, guiding her toward a transport and keeping their faces away from the soldiers, she tried to stay calm. Zical plunged into the thick of the crowd toward a transport so overfilled that people had to stand. Dora noted the last cubicle didn’t have windows and pointed her chin toward it. “Let’s take that one.”
“Fine.”
They ducked inside, using the crowd for cover. Dora wondered what kind of payment was required for the fare, but there was no machine or slot for a credit chip barring their way. Perhaps transportation was free on Kwadii.
The moment they entered, the door closed behind them, and as Dora climbed the three steps inside, she expected to see rows of seats and other people. But the capsule was empty.
There was a bed decorated with a sumptuous silver blanket with maroon threads and matching pillows at the far end and cooking facilities with a table at this end. She peered into a tiny cubicle and marveled at the compact shower and voiding lounge. Between was a comfortable seating area that contained a vidscreen, printed materials, intricate sculptures, and two padded lounge chairs on swivels.
“This must be someone’s private transport.” Zical came to the conclusion the same moment she did.
“Without security?”
“The only locks I’ve seen on this world were the ones that kept us in.”
Dora thought back to the doors in the building they’d just escaped. Zical was right. There were no locks. But could the soldiers track them in here as they had when they’d taken the skimmer? Or perhaps this compartment wasn’t owned privately, but available for hire.
“We should leave.” Zical began to turn back.
“Wait.” Dora approached the vidscreen. “Computer on.”
A woman’s face peered back at her. “How may I serve?”
“We don’t wish to be found.”
“You require privacy mode?”
“Yes.”
“Privacy mode activated.”
Immediately all outside sound ceased to penetrate the transport’s thick walls. Zical waited, hesitant to interrupt her conversation with the computer.
“What does privacy mode activated mean?”
“You will not be disturbed. Doors are locked. I require a payment of—”
“Charge it to Rogar Delari Hikai, heir to the Fifth House of Seemar.”
The machine would now ask for identification verification, a thumb print, a retinal scan, a voice code. Dora thrust her psi into the wiring, adjusted a few circuits, and withdrew. Normally she considered this kind of
alteration an illegal entry, but these were desperate circumstances. Rescuing Kirek and completing their mission to reprogram the Sentinel to guard against the Zin was worth a little computer hacking.
“Account charged.”
Zical grinned and took a seat in a lounger. “We are searching for Tirips’ Oracle.”
“The Oracle … is being tested by the Selgren L’Matti.”
Dora had never expected an answer. If the computer knew where to find Kirek, then Deckar must have known it, too. So why had he pretended ignorance? Could Deckar be in league with Kirek’s abductors? It made no sense for the Risorian to be in league with a Selgren. Perhaps Deckar hadn’t truly known where Kirek had been taken when they’d last spoken and had no way to contact them since their escape. Or there might be another angle she had yet to consider.
“Can you take us to Selgren L’Matti and the Oracle?” Dora asked.
“Yes.”
“We need to leave immediately.” Zical ordered, and the compartment hummed, then settled into a soothing vibration as they began to move. “How long until we arrive?”
“Two days.”
Dora frowned, worried that Kirek would be separated from them for so much time. Zical had ordered the teams to meet back at the Verazen within two days. If they pursued Kirek, they would miss his own deadline. “That’s too long. How fast if we take a skimmer?”
“Traveling by skimmer is forbidden.”
“Why?”
“Skimmers pollute the air. Travel by sub is the quickest route to your destination.”
“Fine. Take us to a sub,” Zical demanded.
“You are in a sub.” the computer told them.
“What about your orders to rendezvous in two days?” Dora asked, glad he hadn’t hesitated to go after Kirek.
“Vax won’t leave without us.” Zical sounded certain, so she put that worry from her mind.
The computer asked, “Would you care to implement see-view mode?”
“Can we see out without others looking in?” Dora asked.
“Of course.”
“Then implement see-view.”
Dora expected a vidscreen to appear in a wall, or maybe for the roof to show the sky. Instead, all the walls, ceiling, and floor turned transparent, revealing a sea of molten scarlet lava and burning gases of phosphorescent orange and golds.
“Oh, my. It’s beautiful.” She stared outside, marveling at a craft that could transport people through boiling lava. No wonder the Kwadii world was so hot. Beneath the crust flowed seas of smoldering lava, which the Kwadii had harnessed and employed to transport themselves around their world. “I’ve never heard of this mode of transportation.”
“Look.” Zical pointed outside to a wide-winged creature with multicolored eyes that swam through the lava as easily as a bird flew through air.
Dora stepped closer to Zical. “Just think. We’re all alone.”
“And?” Zical’s dark eyebrows arched upward with humor that touched his eyes, and she caught a glimpse of longing behind his I’m-always-in-control, the-mission-comes-first demeanor. Was his desire real or an illusion she’d wanted to see? Yet, illusion or not, his glance captured her, drawing her in like a meteor caught in the gravitational pull of a planet.
“We have nothing to do for two entire days.”
“What about Kirek?” he asked.
“I’m worried about him, too. But there’s nothing else we can do for him until we arrive.”
“And?” Leaning closer, she brushed her fingers gently over his brow, his cheek, his jaw. At her tender caress, his eyes darkened, the deep violet turning molten, and his heat stirred her excitement.
Her words sounded carefree, light, and breathy with desire. “Remember how I told you that sexual experience helps me to contact Ranth?”
“And?” He teased her with a low, husky voice that haunted her dreams. Only once before had he used that kind of heated tone, when they’d made love. It seemed like a lifetime ago.
Her body quickening in anticipation, she grinned. “Well, don’t you think we should try to strengthen the connection?”
Chapter Seventeen
A MAN COULD take only so much. Most Rystani warriors would have snapped long before now. Zical considered his caution a measure of inner strength. Most men would want Dora for her physical attributes alone. With her knockout curves, her gorgeous skin, and her flawless lines, she could have been a holovid star. To her credit she employed more than her looks to go after what she wanted. Her intelligence was off the chart. With all else perfection, her emotional vulnerability and her newness at being human had held him back.
“You’ve changed and grown during our journey,” he murmured.
“I most certainly have. I’ve touched and been touched. I’ve kissed and made love. But I could use more experience,” she teased.
The blood roared in Zical’s ears. “So you no longer need coddling?”
She shot him a sassy grin. “What do you think?”
“The very first time I heard you speak, you were still a machine, but you had the sexiest voice.”
“So you liked me back then?”
“Oh, yeah.” He took in her body with his hot gaze. “There’s more I like now.”
“So why are we wasting time talking when we could be doing something much more pleasurable?”
He recalled numerous conversations similar to this one where she’d teased and taunted and insinuated how much she wanted to make love. He recalled how she’d been more than ready for her first sexual experience, proving that all her flirting had reflected her true nature, especially when she’d given as good as she took.
He cupped the back of her neck, tipped up her head until their gazes locked. “I don’t think you truly understand that the first night we made love, I held back.”
Her eyes dilated, and she rubbed her breasts against his chest. “But there’s no need.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know I want everything you have to give.”
She’d teased him with soft words, taunted him with her female scent, and a bubble of need burst in his chest. “You want to push me, fine. I can even justify letting loose for the good of the mission.”
“The good of the mission?” She frowned, even as her hands slid up his back.
His tone roughened. “You once told me that orgasms strengthened your psi.”
She chuckled. “I did say that, didn’t I?”
“So holding back no longer makes sense.”
“Exactly. Shut up and kiss me, already.” She tried to tug his head down for a kiss.
He held still, immovable. “You’re certain you’re ready for what I’m about to unleash?”
“Mm.” Hands that should have gently pushed him away, tugged him closer.
With his lips, he sought out the silky curve of the nape of her neck. His hands ran up her arms. At his rough grasp, her eyes flared with surprise then burned with excitement, while her contradictory textures of silky flesh over toned muscle intrigued, inflamed, and fascinated him. Every cell in his body demanded he take all she offered. And more.
His voice came out harsh, and he did nothing to ameliorate his savagery. “You want to make love to strengthen your psi in hopes of contacting Ranth?”
“Yes.” She shimmied her hips against him, flung her arms around his neck, and again she attempted to tug his head down for a kiss. “But, that’s not my only reason,” she assured him.
“The other reason is?”
“I want you. All of you. The real you. Not the one holding back.”
She didn’t pretend, and he adored that about her. “I’m glad you know what you want.”
At the pure satisfaction in his tone, she boldly allowed a soft chuckle to escape. Then she tried to turn the tables on him by questioning his motives. “Will you deny that you want me for reasons all your own?”
“It is not your place to question my reasons.”
“If you say so.” She nibbled a p
ath along his collarbone, shooting heat straight to his groin. Her inclination to touch when she wished, initiate whatever she desired, was not on his current agenda. Oh, yeah, he most definitely had an agenda.
Capturing her wrists in one hand, he held them apart. “You’ve never understood Rystani ways. But you’re going to learn them now.”
“It’s about damn time.” Ever playful, she batted her eyelashes at him and made no attempt to free her hands.
“This is your last chance to change your mind.”
“Like that’s going to happen when all along I’ve been trying to—”
“Since we are not wed and you do not wear my bands, we’ll have to improvise.” He released one hand, tugged her behind him and searched the sub for suitable material. During a Rystani marriage ceremony, a woman accepted bands that allowed her husband to control her body with his psi in the areas between those bands. Most men banded their woman’s foreheads, wrists, and ankles. In return the brides were allowed to place one band on the husband. The man’s band was symbolic—since with only one, there was no space between.
On their one night together, Zical had kept his passions reined in. It had been her first experience, and there was no point in following custom if one was to be executed as he’d expected. While Dora was inexperienced, she’d been exposed to the customs and sexual practices of many worlds. However, he was Rystani through and through. He believed in the old ways.
Although Dora had been exposed to many different cultures, she could not yet be sure if she wished to adopt his customs. Now she would experience what it was to accommodate his every desire. Together, they would discover her true nature.
She pointed to ties that held the pillows in place on the bed. “Will those do?”
Another woman might have fought the idea of bondage, but Dora not only seemed turned on by the notion, she was urging him on and making suggestions. Her willingness to comply stunned him, until he remembered that she had no idea how far he was about to go. Or how little say she would have during their encounter.
The notion of having her completely at his mercy shattered the very last of his reserve. “You will be mine. However I wish, in whatever manner I deem.”
Rystani Warrior 02 - The Dare Page 24