by Shae Mills
Korba hesitated as Chelan moved off him and snuggled into the pillows by his side. He turned to her and cradled her close. He took a deep breath and continued. "When a man and a woman decided that they wanted children, they were both subjected to a battery of genetic testing to determine if they were suitable. If they were found to be acceptable, then various body fluids were collected from the couple and manipulated into a kind of cooperative or selective poison. Then, the Let was allowed to occur.
"It was a ceremony that was witnessed by a large number of Breeders and various other people, often friends and relatives of the couple. Since in a corrupt way it was meant to be a joyous occasion, a special social drug was passed around that induced a form of euphoria in small amounts, and nearly a psychotic stupor in large amounts, which was the intent for the couple. Then the Breeders injected the man and the woman with the manufactured poison, and the Let was begun."
Chelan looked up at Korba in surprise. "Injected them with the poison!" she exclaimed. "But wouldn't that kill them?"
"No. Since the drug was made from materials from their own bodies, it was tolerated, and that was the whole point of the genetically manipulated toxin. It was poisonous to all others, but not to the couple, and that fact had to be established and witnessed by the Breeders."
Chelan suddenly felt squeamish, and she knew she was not going to like what was coming next.
As if he had read her mind, Korba asked, "Still want to go on?"
"Yes," she answered quietly, unwilling to back down now.
Korba hugged her tighter. "After some fun and festivities, and after the injected drug had taken hold, then the Let was tried. A man and a woman were selected, or rather forced, to try the Let. Usually they were persons unknown to the couple and the families involved, and they were always people of inferior genetics. A sizable guard force was supplied by the Breeders to ensure that the inductees did not attempt to back out. Then, in front of all the witnesses, the woman of the Letted couple was inseminated directly by the chosen male."
Korba felt Chelan tense, and he paused momentarily. He stroked her head gently as he softened his voice. "If the injection was working correctly, once his body fluid passed into her the toxin was transmitted to him. Since his body had no immunological defense against the poison, his death was assured, usually within a few minutes. Then, the Letted man inseminated the chosen woman, and usually the same result was achieved. Finally, to cap the ceremony off, the Letted couple was expected to copulate before the Breeders just to make sure that there were no ill effects to the couple themselves. If no adjustments to the drug were necessary, then the Let was considered complete."
Chelan's stomach turned. "I don't think I would enjoy that," she whispered.
Korba smiled and squeezed her close. "That's why it will never happen to you, Chelan. It will never be considered, ever."
Chelan remained silent for a time. Then holding her breath, she asked, "Have you ever been Letted?"
Korba closed his eyes while his mind tumbled back through time. "I was committed to a woman once, Letted in mind and soul, but not through body. I had never adhered to many of the Breeding Guild's laws, and avoiding the ritual was no exception to my principles, even though the whole ceremony originated with my ancestors."
Chelan sensed a diffuse uneasiness flow over him, and she hesitated, wondering if she would hurt him by asking him more. "Do you have a child somewhere?" she whispered.
Korba kissed the top of her head. "No," he stated gently.
Chelan licked her dry lips and listened to his rhythmic heartbeat. "What happened to her?"
Korba was quiet for a long time, and Chelan suddenly wished that she had not asked the question. She tipped her head up and looked into his serene face. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pried."
Korba shook his head and smiled. "No, it's okay, Chelan." He kissed her forehead and then looked away. He stared into space as history replayed itself. Finally, he spoke. "She killed herself one day in an effort to protect me and my personal, stubborn vendetta against the Guild."
Chelan's fingers brushed along his cheek. "I didn't know," she apologized. "I won't ask any more."
Korba's hand brushed soothingly along her slender back. "It's okay. There is nothing that can't be shared between us. Besides, it was a long time ago, and it is over. I have healed." Korba traced her lips with his fingers and then kissed her tenderly. "I will answer any of your questions. You have only to ask. I will deny you no part of my life."
Chelan hesitated. "How did her death protect you?"
Korba looked away again and took a deep breath. "I had chosen to defy the Guild by refusing to cooperate with their breeding program, originally simply out of adolescent rebellion. When I chose Sabina for my wife, they began to harass her for being inferior and not worthy of an up-and-coming Warlord. When I withdrew completely from them, they decided they would obtain my genetic makeup one way or another, and since I was too well protected, they waited in the shadows until they could obtain it from Sabina.
"They had planted a spy in her household, and one night after we decided to have a child, I made love to her, impregnating her, and starting what I thought was the beginning of a perfect life."
Chelan watched him closely, the residual burden of what he carried betrayed by his heavy eyes. "You don't have to say anything more," she whispered.
Korba shook his head slowly. "Soon after, the Guild abducted her, attempting to extract my seed and any embryo from her body, but she killed herself and degraded all her DNA to prevent them from succeeding. And so, with her death came the end of my bloodline." A small smile touched his lips. "Or so I thought, until now."
Chelan caressed his cheek as she looked longingly into his loving eyes. "I hope that I can make you happy, as happy as Sabina did."
Korba smiled at her. "You have already made me even happier, Chelan. And you do not have to worry about the Guild. Things are different now, and I am too powerful." His fingers traced gently over her face before faltering, his eyes suddenly becoming piercing. "I was born and bred to kill, Chelan, and if the Guild even thinks of touching you, I will use the power of the Empire to obliterate them right down to the last man and woman. They would be consumed in the largest fireball the galaxy has ever seen. No violation of you, no matter how small, will be tolerated."
Chelan sucked in a deep breath. She knew that he was indeed powerful enough to carry out his words, and the iciness of his eyes told her that his wrath would be delivered without hesitation and with no regret. She shuddered. She wondered how a male machine of such muscle and might could be so loving and gentle with her. But deep down it did not matter. He was hers, and she would do anything for him.
"Chelan," Korba whispered, his deep voice drawing her back to him. She looked up at him and noticed that the warmth had returned to his eyes. "Stose wants to do some genetic tests on you, to determine if it is even possible for us to conceive." He watched her face carefully as he continued, his voice quiet and soothing. "I know that the tests would not be pleasant for you because of your shyness and your past, and if you decide to undergo them, there is no rush. But what I do want you to understand fully is that they are not absolutely necessary. For me, the act of simply trying for a child would be more than enough."
Chelan remained very still. "How soon could they be done?" she asked, her eyes alight with adoration.
Korba felt a wave of happiness wash over him. "I'll check with Stose, and thank you, Chelan."
Chelan suddenly pushed out of his arms, surprising him with her quick motion. She smiled down at him. "If Stose could do the tests tomorrow, then he could also check at the same time to see if I am all right." She grinned. "And if I am okay as far as his handiwork is concerned, then we could get down to some serious loving."
Korba laughed and pawed at her head. "And just what did you call that marathon you just put me through? If that wasn't serious, then undoubtedly your definition of serious loving will kill me off."
"Okay," she whispered solemnly, her smile hidden from him. "Then I guess it is best that we wait it out, maybe a day or two extra, just to make sure." Chelan sprang from the bed, but she was far too slow for Korba's catlike reflexes, and his hand caught her ankle.
"Not likely!" he shouted, pulling her back to him. Her struggle was futile as he lifted her up as though she were a feather. Dropping her back down on the bed, he pinned her arms above her head and lay across her chest, totally immobilizing her.
"My, we recover fast," she laughed as she looked up into his smiling face. His eyes were ablaze with the taste of heated pursuit.
"We are never too tired to retrieve and keep what we love and desire most, my fair lady. And I will never let you go, now, or forever, for you are what I love and desire most." And with that, their unabashed love play began anew, their bodies entwined in ongoing and everlasting ecstasy.
Chapter 43
Morning came earlier for Chelan than it did for Korba. She slipped silently from the bed, leaving him to sleep, his love-and war-fatigued body still recovering from recent events. She reached quietly for her gown and dressed quickly. She watched him for a moment more, warmed by the fact that she could move about him without disturbing him. He was truly at peace in her presence.
Chelan turned and stepped out into the bright yet silent Command Center. She wanted her uniform from Fremma's quarters as her muscles were aching for a workout. She padded up to the main entrance doors and hesitated, wondering just who or what she would encounter. The doors parted and a barrage of guards snapped to attention. Chelan immediately froze and began to rethink her destination.
"My Lady," acknowledged a deep, warm voice.
Chelan relaxed, recognizing that it was Lazen. She turned to him and looked up into the infinite blackness of the hooded shroud. "I would like to access Fremma's quarters, if that is permitted?"
"Certainly, my Lady. They have not been touched since his departure, and I have received no orders indicating that they are off-limits to you."
"Thank you," she whispered, beginning toward the suite.
But Lazen's voice halted her progression. "My Lady, if you do not mind, since they have not been entered for a couple of days, I would feel better if you allowed one of my men to accompany you. That way your safety is assured."
Chelan smiled timidly. "Yes, that would be okay. I do not plan to be long."
And with that, Lazen signaled to one of his men, who turned quickly and entered the suite's main doors.
Chelan watched as the man disappeared. She hesitated and then followed. She stood motionless as he did a brief but thorough search of the area, and then returned to her and stood in silence. She looked up at him, uncomfortable with the fact that she could not see his face. Choosing not to address him, she moved to the center of the room and then looked down. There at her feet was the towel that Fremma had been using when she had returned from the Command Center that day. It still lay in a heap on the floor where he had dropped it.
Chelan bent down and touched it almost lovingly. Then, clutching it, she drew it slowly to her face, his scent making her heart ache.
"Are you all right, my Lady?" asked the guard.
Chelan sprang to her feet, startled by the sound of his voice. "Yes," she replied, taking several deep breaths, "I'm fine."
"Do you wish me to leave?"
"No," she replied hurriedly. "It's better that you remain here." She walked briskly to the en suite and hung the towel carefully. Then she looked over to the counter and spotted her uniform, still folded neatly.
Chelan glanced at the guard and then stepped out of his sight. She removed her gown and slipped into the cool second skin, its contact familiar and comforting. Carefully, she picked up each blade that Fremma had given her and slipped them into the sheaths of her boots. Then she folded her gown and tucked it inside her shroud. She emerged from the en suite and found the guard standing where she had left him. She took another look around the room, her eyes resting briefly on the bed.
"Will he be okay, my Lady?" the guard asked quietly.
She looked up into the hooded blackness and smiled warmly. "Yes, I think so."
The guard nodded and then stepped out of her way.
But Chelan's eyes remained intent upon him. "When he is better," she began, "will he return here?"
The guard straightened slightly. "I don't know, my Lady. These are not Fremma's usual quarters. I suppose where he stays will depend on your decision."
Chelan's eyes widened. "On my decision? Why on my decision?"
The guard was obviously hesitant about answering her. "I would assume, my Lady, that the Commander would abide by your wishes for Fremma, as your close relationship with him is well known by both his top officers and by Korba."
Chelan was a little uneasy about the man's summation of the situation, but she knew his words were undoubtedly true. She would have to speak to Korba about Fremma again soon. But right now, all she sought was the security of the Command Center.
With no further words spoken, she walked through the doors and into the hall. She turned to the man she assumed was Lazen. "Thank you," she said quietly. He nodded to her, and she turned and entered the Center.
Chelan paused just inside the doors to clear her mind and calm herself. Then she headed to the workout area. She had already decided that she would not use her knives in case they disturbed Korba. So for the next two hours she worked her way through the free weights, keeping the whole session light. She took great care with her right shoulder, paying careful attention to everything her body was telling her. As she cooled down, she took herself through a series of long, slow stretches, her limber body appreciating every supple move.
Returning to her chambers, she stood beside the bed and watched Korba's bronze back rise and fall rhythmically. He was spectacular in every way, a true feast for the eyes. She craved touching him, all of him, but she would leave him to his rest. She moved soundlessly to the table to set her gown and shroud down. Then she turned suddenly, detecting a change in his breathing. She watched as he began to stir, his long black hair cascading over the pillows. He rolled over toward her, his unearthly blue eyes opening to her and pinning her to stillness.
He looked first at her radiant smile, and then to her body, its shape only partially concealed by the shadowy uniform. His face illuminated at the sight of her. He reached for her and pulled her down to the edge of the bed. He stroked her arm and then took her gloved hand in his and squeezed it gently. "I'm impressed," he smiled.
"At what?"
Korba released her and lay back against the proliferation of pillows. "At how you look in one of our uniforms," he said softly.
Chelan blushed and moved to straddle his waist. Her fingers seductively traced the lines of his chest. "And how do I look in one of your uniforms?" she asked demurely.
Korba's eyes penetrated the absorbent blackness of the material that coated her as if she had been dipped in liquid obsidian. "Let's just say that it suffices to point out that your feminine endowments are much more ample than our women's, and that the uniform does little to conceal that beautiful fact."
Chelan pinked further. She looked down at his hard abdominal muscles surrounded by her soft inner thighs. "May I also point out, my Lord, that the uniforms also leave little to the imagination when donned by your more-than-amply-endowed warriors, and that I have no doubt in my mind why the military shroud was designed."
"And why is that?" he chuckled.
Chelan grinned. "So your men and women can keep their minds on more important matters than the gorgeous body next to them."
Korba laughed. "I suppose. But I really think that a little self-control is more of a discerning factor than concealing shrouds when it comes to preventing mass orgies."
They both laughed at one another and then fell silent as Korba began to affectionately stroke her thighs. His hands moved down her legs, eventually coming up with one of her knives. He released her as he raised the matte black blad
e to his face. He felt the grip of the handle and studied the weapon closely. Then he returned it to her. "One of the best I have ever seen, and specifically made for your hand."
Chelan nodded as she took the blade carefully and glanced at its deadly edges. Cautiously, she moved her hand to her side, keeping the knife away from his exposed skin. She looked into his intense eyes and realized that he was not altogether relaxed. Chelan looked down at his chest, wondering if his trepidation was due to his concern over her safety, or his. "Fremma gave them to me," she whispered. "I will give them up if you do not wish me to have them."
Korba reached for the blade in her hand, removing it from her grip and sheathing it slowly in her boot. His hands returned to her thighs. "Of course you may keep them, Chelan. I only fear for you, not myself."
Chelan relaxed.
Korba smiled. "Can you use them?"
"I have used them. But my proficiency is a relative term." She shrugged. "I feel that I am quite good, but when compared to your people, I am probably far from adequate."
Korba drew a deep breath and his smile faded. His muscles tensed. "Have you ever slipped with one?"
Chelan flinched. She was caught off guard by his unexpected question. Concurrently, she detected the change in his demeanor and a shift in the timber of his voice. "No," she uttered warily. "Why?"
Korba reached to the top of her slender neck. He drew his finger down the front of her uniform, the jacket spreading wide as it released its grip on her full breasts.
Chelan looked away as he slipped the garment over her shoulders and pealed it from her body, taking with it her gloves.