“Bes-er-rah,” Bithia corrected mildly, giving the word three distinct syllables. Her gaze swept over the people below, then the entire great hall. “Beserrah is nothing like Diola. We have one season: scorching.” She shook her head fondly. “It’s always excruciatingly hot and very humid.” She plucked at her heavy dress. “This would be considered a form of torture on Beser-rah.”
“What do you wear?” Ariss asked, leaning closer.
Kerrick grinned. He might love gossip, but Ariss simply adored fashion. Each time he’d accompanied her to official gatherings, she would endlessly discuss what each lady wore, especially the women from other planets. When she returned to their rooms, she would sketch ideas for her seamstress. Slowly, inexorably, Ariss was single-handedly altering Diolan fashion.
“Most wore little, if anything,” Bithia said, her eyes flashing meaningfully to Kerrick before returning to Ariss. “Nudity was common.”
Kerrick had been to a world like that once; one that was hot, not one filled with nudity. The name escaped him, but he remembered the game they had played. Each man in a low-slung vehicle fought to reach the summit of a long uphill expanse of sand. The first to the top won. Most tumbled backward or lost momentum in the deep sand. It had seemed to Kerrick that the real point of the game was to spend an inordinate amount of time standing around drinking and watching the other participants. When night fell, they’d sit around campfires doing basically the same thing.
“Your people walked about naked?” Ariss stifled a gasp.
“They were not my people!” Bithia rolled her eyes. “I didn’t rule there, I only spent time in their …” she searched for the word. “Natsuma—court.”
“Why did Clathia send you—” Kerrick cut himself off when he suddenly realized he was prying into the private affairs of the empress. Worse, he’d again spoken out of turn. Kerrick didn’t think the warm feelings generated during this brief encounter were enough to ask the young woman why her mother had sent her away and never told anyone on Diola about her existence. How she’d been found and entered into the empress competition was another provocative question altogether. One that he swore he wouldn’t dare to ask, even though he was dying to know. Sterlave’s accusation, that Kerrick was more enamored of gossip than any woman, was a lot truer than Kerrick would willingly admit. His love of gossip could very well be the death of him.
There had been one redeeming aspect to becoming a servant; he was allowed entrance to the tishiary. In the lower level of the palace lay a vast set of rooms where servants gathered to bathe, wash clothing, gossip, and gather supplies for their masters.He’d been furious the first time he’d been sent there to bathe. However, one of Ariss’ other servants had to retrieve him because he’d been so caught up in gossiping he’d forgotten everything else. Rown was a servant to Sterlave and Kasmiri. He knew simply everything about everyone. Rown demurred about his master and mistress, but he eagerly talked about everyone else. Whenever Kerrick went to the tishiary, he looked first for Rown.
A sullen expression, filled with an age-old hurt, darkened Bithia’s normally bright face. “You know, you are the only person brave enough to ask me to my face about why Clathia sent me away.” Lifting her chin accusingly toward the entrance, where the protocol officer, the magistrate, and other assorted members of her staff stood deep in conversation, she said, “They speculate behind my back, talking just loud enough so that I can hear.” A smile of malice twisted her lips. “I don’t tell them because I know how badly they want to know.” Bithia considered Ariss and Kerrick for a moment. “Well, that’s what I tell myself.” She took a long drink. “The truth is, I don’t tell them because I don’t know.” Her face turned wistful and terribly sad. “I never knew my mother or my father. I have no idea why they sent me away.”
In that moment, he saw that despite her proud carriage and her bluster, Bithia was still a very young girl with a tender heart. In fact, she was just barely old enough for the Harvest. And that’s when he recognized her. No wonder Bithia looked so familiar; he’d harvested her only a few cycles ago. Someone had taken great care to obscure her features with makeup, and she’d worn a wig of blond hair, but those pale blue eyes … He would never forget that almost translucent color. But what he remembered most about her was that she was no virgin. Surely, Bithia had recognized him, too.
Softly, Ariss said, “Perhaps they did not send you away.”
Hope filled Bithia’s eyes only to be replaced with wary suspicion.
Shrugging delicately, Ariss said, “Sometimes, in a world such as this”—she lifted her hand to include all those below them—“a father or mother might have no say in what befalls their child.”
Bithia glanced down at Ariss’ still-flat belly. “You would not choose this life for your child.”
“No.” Ariss looked up as if she could see right into the mists of Jarasine. “I would choose a life far different.”
“Maybe that’s why they sent me away; they didn’t want me to have to deal with all of these peckards.”
Ariss’ laugh cheered him. She rarely laughed anymore. He knew that all her life she’d longed for a quiet home, surrounded by forest, earning her keep with the simplest of trades. Of all things, she wanted to sell medicinal plants. Ironically, she knew absolutely nothing about them, but she said that’s why the whole thing was simply a dream.
Bithia tossed back another drink. With a low voice, she asked, “Are they keeping you here in the palace because of—” she pointed to Ariss’ belly.
Ariss nodded.
“If you could send the child away, would you?”
Ariss’ gasp said no louder than any words.
Despite his continued annoyance with her, Kerrick grudgingly admired Ariss for refusing to abandon her child. No matter what, Ariss would not walk away. Even if she herself became a slave, she would stay to protect her child. Although he knew in his heart that the child was his, he always referred to the babe as “her child” or simply “the child.” Distancing himself was the only way he’d been able to contain his emotions.
For a moment, Bithia considered Ariss, then, no longer content to throw her glasses behind her, she tossed her current one onto the floor below. The fragile glass shattered with a delicate tinkle, almost like the peal of a tiny bell. Several people jumped, then danced away from the platform. Kerrick thought they were lucky she hadn’t hit them. She might have, if too many drinks hadn’t hampered her aim. He took note that as the evening progressed, the people below made a wider and wider path of empty around the platform.
Bithia reached beside her throne for another drink. She eyed the one in Kerrick’s hand. He’d hardly touched the sparkly wine, but she offered him another, anyway. Kerrick tossed back the one he had, set the glass beside Ariss’ throne, then took another.
Again, Bithia stroked her finger along the back of his hand. A wicked gleam came to her eye as she leaned close to Ariss, and asked, “How is he?” She kept her voice confidential, but loud enough that Kerrick could clearly hear her over the cacophony.
Confused, Ariss dropped her eyes to her belly, then followed Bithia’s gaze to Kerrick. “He is a fine protector.” She smiled up at him.
He nodded his head subserviently to her.
Ariss frowned slightly, clearly displeased that he wasn’t more enamored of her praise.
“No,” Bithia said, swirling her drink. “How is he with sex?” Before Ariss could sputter out an answer, Bithia said, “Some still talk of your encounters in the mating room. It is said he put on quite a show.” Deliberately, Bithia let her gaze linger on his crotch. “Do you ever share him?”
Kerrick thought Ariss’ eyes were going to pop from her head. Mainly because she didn’t know the elite had observed them as they mated, but more so by Bithia’s forwardness. Ariss blinked rapidly, as if trying to assimilate everything.
For once, he was pleased that his servant status prevented him from speaking. He was going to relish watching Ariss squirm. However, before he could thoroughly enjoy
her discomfort, he suddenly began to fidget himself. Without any lusty thoughts whatsoever, his cock hardened, pushing against his loose-fitting trousers in a prominent display since he didn’t wear undergarments. He glanced down at the drink he’d so cavalierly tossed off and realized what caused Bithia’s smirk; he’d just willingly consumed an entire glass of illias. Bithia had deliberately handed him the powerful, sparkling aphrodisiac; and he’d not only taken it, but quaffed it quickly. She must have taken his actions as an indication of his willingness.
Lowering her voice, Bithia said, “I would pay well to borrow him.” Darting her gaze between him and Ariss, she added, “I promise I will not hurt him; however, I would like to use him with another, if that is permitted. Is he accustomed to that?”
Another? Kerrick considered what that might mean. Him, Bithia, and another man or another woman? Judging by the way her gaze lingered on anything and everything male, he was guessing two men. Or more. She might be young, but she clearly wasn’t naive.
“You want to …”Ariss trailed off, unable to even speak of what Bithia suggested.
“You can join us if you’d like. I just thought that in your condition you would refrain from such vigorous encounters.”
Ariss’ mouth hung open but absolutely nothing came out.
Frowning, Bithia asked, “Isn’t that done on this world?” She jumped her gaze from him to Ariss. “I thought it was proper to ask the owner of the slave.”
“He is bound to me by temple rites as my protector, not my, my sex slave.” Ariss glanced over at him as if seeking support, and that’s when she noticed the bulge in his trousers. Her gaze flew to his face as an expression of disgust twisted her features.Obviously, she thought he was intrigued by Bithia’s suggestion. He wasn’t, but he wasn’t about to correct Ariss’ erroneous assessment, either.
“You don’t have sex with him?” Now it was Bithia’s turn to be shocked. Her gaze traveled over him with the power of a caress. “But he was the Harvester, wasn’t he?”
She knew he was. He saw the gleam of recognition in her eyes and wondered what game she was playing.
“He was, but …”Ariss trailed off, then lowered her hand to her belly. “I’m sorry, my lady, but I fear I must return to my rooms.” Ariss stood. Her clutch of servants rushed toward her, but she stopped them with a lifted hand.
Kerrick grabbed her decorative robe, but rather than placing the heavy thing on her shoulders, he folded the fabric over his arm, using the massive thing to hide his bulge.
By the time they reached the bottom of the platform, their contingent of guards surrounded them with expert ease. As they left the great hall, Kerrick glanced over his shoulder. Bithia raised her glass to him, drank, and then tossed the empty behind her. A wide smile graced her face as she dropped her gaze to his fanny and lifted one brow.
“Will you stop staring at that audacious child?” Ariss whisper-hissed.
Chuckling, Kerrick turned his gaze forward. “Bithia isn’t a child; she’s a young woman. A very lusty young woman.” They were out in the hallway, but Kerrick looked back just to irritate Ariss. “Someday we’re going to have to visit Beserrah.”
“If you look back again, I’ll—”
“What? Have me beaten?” Leaning near enough that his breath caressed her neck, he asked, “Or will you beat me yourself? Perhaps with both hands. Maybe in a slow-up-and-down motion?”
Her face flamed red. They continued in silence. When they reached her suite of rooms, Ariss dismissed her servants and slammed the door in the guards’ faces.
Kerrick set her robe aside. Deliberately, he cocked his hip, causing the material of his trousers to stretch tight across his erection.
Striding forward, Ariss grasped his cock accusingly. “How can you be attracted to her?”
His erection had nothing to do with Bithia; however, Ariss’ hand was only compounding his problem. Grasping her wrist, he snarled, “Why shouldn’t I submit to the empress while you find your pleasure with some man who uses you so brutally he leaves marks?” He hadn’t realized how angry he was about her betrayal until he flung the accusation at her. Here he was, trapped for a lifetime as her subservient slave, and she was finding satisfaction with another!
Ariss winced and tried to pull away.
Yanking her close, he dropped his lips a breath from hers, and asked, “Who is he?” He had no problem using his role as her protector to hunt the man down and beat the lust right out of him. How dare any man use her to the point he injured her, in her condition, no less? Just the thought of another with Ariss infuriated him beyond comprehension. Twice he’d fallen to his knees to give her his tribute in the temple, while she sated her needs with some brute.
Pressing her lips together, as if to prevent herself from speaking the truth, she tried again to elude his grasp, but he tightened his grip. Not hard enough to hurt, just tight enough to make it clear who was in charge. Her refusal to give the name made Chur and Sterlave flash instantly to his mind. Kerrick wondered if they had to grovel in the temple and give her their tribute. Chur was a demigod himself, so probably not. Sterlave, as the consort to the prior empress, probably got some special dispensation. But that wouldn’t stop either man from sneaking trysts with her.
“Do you like it when he forces you down, then uses you so ruthlessly he burns the palms of your hands and the skin of your knees?” He twisted his grip, exposing her palms. Even now, the marks still lingered. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice? Or perhaps that I was too stupid to realize what caused these marks?” Something about her allowing a man to maltreat her infuriated him. Such brutality wasn’t about passion; it was about subjugation and violence. “How could you let any man abuse you?”
Breathless, she tried to pull away, but then, closing her eyes, she lowered her voice to a fragile whisper. “I didn’t have a choice.”
Stunned, Kerrick released her at once. Who would dare to rape the consort of a god? For that matter, when could such an event have occurred? He was by her side almost every moment of the day. The only time he left her was when he went to the tishiary. When he went there, a palace guard took his place. So when could any man have gotten near enough to harm her? As soon as he asked himself the question, he knew the answer.
“Tavarus.”
Ariss winced at the name, closing her eyes tightly, as if she tried to block the images from her mind.
Kerrick stepped back, lifting his hands as if to ward off the truth. “Through me.” His gaze dropped to the floor as a trickle of a memory took form in his brain. “I did that to you. Right here.” In a hazy, jumbled vision, he saw himself tormenting Ariss, then forcing her down, forcing himself inside. Through his hands he felt her hips giving way below his fingertips, felt her body rock forward from his thrusts. If not for that damn drink, revulsion would have deflated his erection in a snap.
“You tried to fight him off.” Ariss crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself, holding herself. “But your refusal only angered him more.” She couldn’t meet his gaze. “I begged you to just let him do what he wanted.” Her eyes darted to his, then quickly away. “I knew he wouldn’t really hurt me. Tavarus wouldn’t do anything to hurt his child.”
Closing his eyes against the horrible truth, Kerrick sat down hard on a puffy couch. He dropped his head into his hands. His cock ached with a relentless need for climax, which he forcefully ignored. Right now, he’d rather suffer the torments of the ages than have Ariss assuage his lust.
“How many times?” he asked, hoping against hope that it had only happened once.
“It wasn’t your fault.” Ariss sat beside him, taking his hand into hers.
Her hand felt so small in his, so delicate and fragile. He opened his mouth to ask the question again, but closed it without saying a word. He really didn’t want to know. One time was one time too many. Turning her hand over, he lifted her arm and kissed the center of her palm. No words would ever change what had happened.
“Do you hate me?”
>
“No.” Ariss leaned into him, forcing his arm around her shoulders so she could press her head against his chest. “You were possessed by a god, Kerrick. There wasn’t anything either of us could do.”
Kerrick was overwhelmed by the feelings welling up inside. To be a tool for a god was bad enough, but for that same god to use him to hurt Ariss was more than he could handle.
“How can you even bear to let me touch you?” Her shoulders felt frighteningly fragile below his massive arm. Without any compassion or restraint to guide him, he could hurt her. A god such as Tavarus didn’t care about mere mortals. He took what he wanted when he wanted it and damned the consequences. Terrified, because in a moment of god-fueled lust, Tavarus could make Kerrick kill her without meaning to, Ker-rick suddenly wanted to get as far from Ariss as he could. How could he truly protect her when he couldn’t stop a god from possessing him? He didn’t know if he could trust Ariss’ assessment that Tavarus would never really hurt her because of the child. If he was used to getting what he wanted when he wanted it, what would prevent Tavarus from lashing out, especially if using force gave him satisfaction?
Ariss snuggled closer, and whispered, “It wasn’t you. I knew it wasn’t you. When he fills you, your eyes swell black, eating up all the color, turning your eyes into fathomless pits.” She shuddered, compelling him to pull her closer to his warmth. He kissed the top of her head, smelling that lovely valasta that seemed as much a part of her as anything. No matter what perfumes her servants placed on her, he could always smell that sweet scent.
“When was the last time he came?” Kerrick blanched at his own question. He’d meant the last time Tavarus had been here, not the last time he’d gotten off. Although, technically, they were the same thing.
“I think he has grown bored with me,” Ariss said, trailing her hand along the opening of his simple brown shirt. “Right after the temple ceremony, he came several times a day, but it has been more than a quarter cycle since he’s been here.” Relief filled her voice. “Hopefully he has found another way to occupy his time.”
[The Onic Empire 03] - Sinful Harvest Page 20