Comet Coalition 4: Mystic

by Aubrey Ross

  Ritter chuckled and nodded toward the door. “It’s better if you stay off the trams. Will Jericho send a shuttle?”

  “All I have to do is hint that a beautiful woman is in danger and my big brother will rearrange the world.”

  * * * * *

  “This had better be your idea of a joke.” Miranda glared at Drake as their small, private shuttle pulled up to the side entrance of the Fantasy Forum. She should have realized something was suspicious when Drake insisted they walk several blocks from the ramshackle hotel before boarding the VIP shuttle. “I know what goes on in places like this.”

  “We’re not here to sample the amenities. I know the owner. He’ll make sure no one else knows you’re here.”

  “You know Jericho James?”

  “I knew him long before he was the fantasy king of New Shardrake. He’s already insisted on meeting you. I didn’t realize you were a fan.”

  “I’m not.” A robotic doorman opened the hatch and lowered the stairs. Miranda pulled the hood of her coat up to shadow her face. “Why would someone in your line of work be friends with someone in his line of work?”

  Drake unfastened his safety restraints and stood. “I never said we were friends.”

  After descending the stairs, he turned back toward the interior of the shuttle and proffered his hand. Miranda placed her fingers on his, and rich, intoxicating energy rolled up her arm and swirled through her chest, hardening her nipples. Was she just responding to an attractive man or was Drake a latent? The longer she spent with him, the more convinced she became that there was something to her suspicion.

  Her steps faltered, and he cupped her elbow with his other hand. “Are you all right?”

  “Nothing a massive hot fudge sundae and a good night’s sleep won’t fix.” She wanted to believe her own words, but she felt restless and anxious. Ritter was off to make sure everyone believed she was dead and her safety now depended on a man she barely knew.

  An attendant, also robotic, rushed forward as they entered the hotel. His burgundy uniform was identical to the doorman’s except for the color of his collar and turned back cuffs. Unlike pleasure bots, which were as lifelike as possible, servant-class robots were designed to be instantly identifiable as IA.

  “Mr. James told me you’d need access to the private elevator.” His voice was synthesized and his movements mechanical. “Shall I send a bellhop for your luggage?”

  “Our luggage is arriving separately,” Drake told him without pause. “Is our room ready? My wife isn’t feeling well.”

  “Of course, sir. Would you like me to contact a physician?”

  “That’s not necessary. The journey was simply more taxing than we anticipated.”

  “Shall I ride up with you and explain the room’s ‑‑”

  “That won’t be necessary. We’ve stayed here before.”

  With a stiff nod, the attendant handed Drake an oblong crystal. “This will activate the lift and open your door. The companel defaults to the highest privacy settings, but you can interact with other occupants or watch the action on the casino floor and in the various lounges if that interests you. If you have any questions or wish to access any of the amenities that require an appointment, simply activate the concierge.”

  “Thank you.” Drake took the crystal and placed his hand on the small of Miranda’s back. The electric awareness arced again, causing her to shiver.

  The corridor veered to the right where a bank of elevators awaited them. Drake inserted the crystal and summoned the private lift.

  “Do you stay here often?” It was really none of her business, but his connection to Jericho was an intriguing anomaly.

  “I’ve never stayed here before. I just didn’t want to listen to the attendant ramble for the next half hour.” He folded his arms across his brawny chest and narrowed his gaze on her face. “Would it surprise you if I had? Even Enforcers are allowed to unwind now and then.”

  “I’m not begrudging you some entertainment. You just don’t seem the type to indulge your imagination.”

  The door slid open, and he swept his arm toward the corridor beyond. “You have a rather pronounced opinion of me given the fact that we just met.”

  “I’ve been in your mind.” She raised her eyebrows ominously, unable to resist the temptation.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She stepped out of the elevator, Drake half a step behind her. “What’s our room number?”

  He stomped off down the hall, and she released a throaty chuckle. How did he go through life so tightly wound? She wanted to scan his mind, to explore his motivations, and the latent abilities she’d sensed before. How would he react if he turned out to be a dreaded mystic? She sighed and pushed the impulse aside. Sending him the images had been necessary. Assuaging her curiosity was not.

  Their suite consisted of three rooms. The main sitting area was separated from the dining room by a sculpted archway, while the bedroom was completely enclosed. Decorated in burgundy and cream with gilt accents, the overall effect was lavish elegance. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a spectacular view of New Shardrake with its towering spires and immaculate promenades.

  “Who is paying for this?” She couldn’t help but wonder. The suite was easily twice the size of her modest apartment.

  “I asked Jericho for discreet accommodations. He took the rest upon himself.”

  She slipped out of her coat and draped it over the back of a chair. “A man after my own heart.” Kicking off her high heeled shoes, she crossed to the windows and took in the view. “So, what’s the plan?”

  Drake remained where he was, not far from the entrance. She could see his reflection in the window, and she took full advantage of the opportunity. He raked his hair with one hand, leaving the shiny mass in charming disarray.

  “Your safety is my only concern at the moment. As I’m able to study the images in the ring, my strategy will evolve.”

  “None of the images are admissible in court, so why bother?” He didn’t respond immediately. Her question appeared to have taken him aback. Turning around, she strolled across the room and sat on the synthleather sofa.

  “That’s an odd question for a mystic.”

  “Is it? I’ve dealt with skepticism and prejudice my entire life.”

  “The skeptics haven’t hurt your career.” He moved closer, resting his hands on the back of the chair facing her. “You’ve even converted a few of your most passionate opponents.”

  She didn’t miss the sarcasm in his tone. It was a pointless debate. He had no respect for anyone with psychic abilities, and she didn’t have the time or energy to change his mind. “They need to pick up Aysha. I don’t think she realizes what she’s done.”

  “How can you believe that after seeing her in action? She’s Rizaria’s mistress and she tried to kill you.”

  “No one is that good an actor. She had no idea what the ring contained. If Rizaria is as dangerous as you say, Aysha is in serious trouble. It might have been inadvertent, but she betrayed him.”

  “Again, your trusting nature is showing. It’s likely Rizaria himself is responsible for the ring. Why would he punish her for carrying out his orders?”

  “Why would Rizaria want me dead? I hadn’t even heard his name until you identified him.”

  That gave him pause. “Nothing in your dealings with Nicay or Aysha exposed you to information about Rizaria?”

  “Just the images contained in the ring. And even then, I had no idea who he was.” She scooted to the edge of her seat, careful to keep her knees together. “It doesn’t make sense to load down a murder weapon with incriminating evidence.”

  “You have a point.”

  She smiled. His pained expression revealed how infrequently he had to concede. “Then will you have someone arrest Aysha?”

  “We can’t tip our hand. Once Ritter releases your cover story to the media, we’ll have more freedom. Until then we work on unraveling the images.”

&n
bsp; “I don’t like it.” She crossed her legs and tugged down the hem of her skirt. “Can you dispatch someone to follow her or ‑‑”

  “Is this a premonition sort of thing? What exactly is a temporal guide?”

  “A meaningless label. The Perrlain try to force everything into neat little boxes. Life doesn’t work that way, and people sure as hell don’t think that way.”

  “Fine. Call it whatever you like. Just explain the extent of your abilities.”

  “This has nothing to do with my abilities.” She sighed. “I’m just worried about one of my patients.”

  “She’s already under surveillance. We’ve suspected she was more involved than her husband realized for quite some time.” His expression softened and he relaxed enough to sit. “We’re going to be constant companions for a while. Why don’t we try and break the ice?”

  “Show me yours and I’ll show you mine?”

  “Something like that. Weren’t you born on Temple-Tuttle?” She nodded. “Why did you leave?”

  “The Perrlain elders had my life planned out from the moment of my conception, but I didn’t agree with their plans. I saw no justification for too many of their traditions, so they banished me.”

  “Just like that?” He snapped his fingers.

  “No. The banishment came after years of rebellion and passionate objections.” She took a deep breath and looked at her hands. “Why is this relevant now?”

  “I apologize. I didn’t realize you’d left under duress.”

  “I was more than ready to leave, but I miss my family.”

  “They’re still on Temple-Tuttle?”

  “My brother and middle sister are. My younger sister recently had an epiphany similar to mine. She seems genuinely happy.”

  “How long have you been in New Shardrake?”

  “Do I get to interrogate you next?”

  A smile transformed his face. He looked younger and his green eyes shimmered with subtle warmth. If he smiled more often, he would be devastating.

  “I didn’t mean for it to feel like an interrogation. I get the impression that you’re far more complicated than your professional persona.”

  “Thank you, I think.”

  Someone knocked on the door, drawing their attention. Drake rolled his eyes as he pushed to his feet. Was he annoyed by the interruption or was he not looking forward to a visit from their host?

  Drake checked the security screen inset in the wall before he opened the door. “We’ve been expecting you.” His deep voice was definitely tinged with annoyance.

  A tall, broad-shouldered man ambled into the room. His curling dark hair and vivid green eyes made her glance back at Drake.

  “Don’t pretend you’re not happy to see me. We both know you love it here.”

  With a derisive snort, Drake kicked the door shut and followed the other man across the room.

  “I’m Jericho James.” The visitor lightly clasped her hand and raised it to his lips. “I’ll do everything in my power to make your stay enjoyable.”

  Chapter Four

  Lopeka inhaled deeply, savoring the sharp scent of fear. Aysha knelt before her naked, helpless, yet insolent. Her arms were tied behind her back, knees and ankles also bound. Pink-streaked hair streamed across her face and her breasts quivered with each contrived sob. Lopeka was unmoved by her beauty and indifferent to her pleas. Vibrant life emanated from her like the aroma of a long-awaited meal.

  “Please, I’ll do anything you want,” Aysha simpered. “Just don’t hurt me.”

  “And she will, my love,” Kwinton Rizaria said. “Aysha is nothing if not accommodating.”

  Breath hissed out of Aysha’s mouth, and she glared at Kwinton through the strands of her hair. “There are no words vile enough to describe you.”

  His indolent smile was far more provoking than words.

  “Let’s begin again,” Lopeka said. “What were you doing with Miranda this morning?”

  “She’s my therapist.” Her hostile gaze shot to Kwinton and rebelliousness lifted her chin. “Kwinton sent me to spy on her.”

  “But your reports have become vague and infrequent.” Kwinton pushed to his feet.

  Lopeka warned him back with an upraised hand. This was her interrogation. He knew better than to interfere.

  “Have you fallen under the spell of New Shardrake’s favorite mystic?” He persisted despite Lopeka’s annoyance.

  If Kwinton had known how insulting she found the jibe, he would have kept his mouth shut. She was the most powerful mystic in New Shardrake, and he better never forget it!

  “You saw her two days ago.” Lopeka used the polished crook of her ebony cane to raise Aysha’s chin. “This morning was an unscheduled meeting. What was so important?”

  “Nicay and I had a fight. I needed someone to talk to.”

  Emotions rolled across Lopeka’s empathic receptors. “That’s partially true, but I still sense deception.”

  “I’m upset! What do you want from me?” Lopeka drew back her cane and genuine fear widened Aysha’s eyes. “It was a question, not a complaint. I don’t understand what you want.”

  Savoring the intoxicating rush of power, Lopeka slowly lowered the cane and rested both hands on the elaborate hilt. “Kwinton, get Aysha something to drink. I think she needs a few minutes to consider her options.”

  He looked confused but went into the adjoining kitchen. Aysha followed his movements as much as her awkward position allowed. Kwinton assured Lopeka that each room in the Pleasure Palace was sound proof, but the sprawling city just beyond the windows made her uncomfortable.

  She’d come to New Shardrake eleven years before, drawn by the promise of adventure and the opportunity to hide her activities in the crush of humanity. Nothing went unnoticed on Temple-Tuttle and the Perrlain Tribe had carelessly cast her out. But here, she could indulge her desires and gorge on an inexhaustible sea of energy.

  “What are you going to do with me?” Aysha’s voice sounded thin and uncertain.

  “That’s entirely up to you.” Lopeka sat on the sofa Kwinton had just vacated and rested her cane across her knees. She stared into Aysha’s eyes and opened her mind to the blonde’s emotions. Pride and defiance still simmered behind her tearful façade. She was waiting for Kwinton to save her, confident in her physical appeal.

  A secretive smile curved Lopeka’s lips as she broke contact with her captive.

  Kwinton returned with a glass of water.

  “Is there something in that?” Aysha looked to Lopeka for the answer. Good. Let her wonder. Let her analyze every sensation, dreading the onset of some nonexistent chemical. Aysha had yet to comprehend her true situation. “I’m not thirsty. I ‑‑”

  He grabbed her hair and forced her head back. She stubbornly closed her mouth, so he drizzled water into her nose. With a frantic, sputtering gasp, she opened her mouth and accepted the liquid as he slowly poured it down her throat.

  “Swallow it all,” he taunted. “We both know how well you swallow things.” He set the glass aside then his gaze moved back to Aysha with lecherous interest.

  “Come here, love.” Lopeka put sarcastic emphasis on the endearment. Kwinton was a necessary inconvenience. He was the face she used to interact with the world.

  Aysha watched him closely, waiting for him to object to the command.

  “What shall we do while she ponders her fate?” He stalked toward the sofa, gaze narrowed and bright.

  “We aren’t going to do anything. You are going to lick my pussy like an obedient slave.”

  His steps faltered, and his expression hardened. He had no problem licking her pussy; he did so frequently and with obvious enthusiasm. But to be ordered around like a lackey in front of Aysha obviously infuriated him.

  “Why don’t we pleasure each other?” He did his best to make the suggestion sound imperious. “No one has to wait that way.”

  “I’m not in the mood to indulge you. Now get on your knees.”

  His nostrils
flared and his hands clenched. Lopeka drew her flowing skirt up to her waist and spread her thighs. Aysha followed the exchange with tentative fascination. It was important that she understand the true dynamics before they continued.

  With obvious reluctance, Kwinton knelt. “This wasn’t necessary,” he whispered.

  “I disagree.” She looked down at her smooth mound and lifted one of her legs to his shoulder. “Get busy.” Kwinton latched on to her pussy with punishing force, sucking and scraping her folds with his teeth. She slapped the side of his head and snapped, “Hurt me again and I’ll make you bleed!”

  He slipped his hands beneath her ass and raised her to his mouth. She found his thigh with her free foot and rocked her hips, grinding her sex against his lips. Aysha watched in stunned disbelief.

  “Oh, yes. Right there. Suck my clit.” Lopeka stared at her captive, gauging her reaction to the scene. Her nipples hardened and her lips trembled. Was she imagining Kwinton between her thighs or fearing that she’d be required to take his place? Lopeka preferred men to women, but so did Aysha. It was exhilarating to show the blonde just how useless her beauty was now.

  Kwinton worked his tongue in and out of her core. His thumb circled her clit, quickly building her orgasm. Aroused more by his resentment than his skill, Lopeka rested her head against the back of the sofa and concentrated on the pleasure gathering within her.

  Tingling heat rippled along her inner muscles. “Fingers, quick. I need something to squeeze.”

  He thrust two fingers into her core and lashed her clit with his tongue. She threw back her head and surrendered to the sharp burst of sensation.

  “Very nice.” She sighed.

  Sitting back on his heels, he removed his fingers and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

  “Remove your pants.” Anger flashed in his gaze, but he reached for his belt buckle. “Did you question my authority?”

  “I made a suggestion, nothing more.”

  “You didn’t immediately comply with what I told you to do. That’s the same as disobeying. Do you deserve to be punished?”

  His expression swung from dread to lust and back to dread. Lopeka carefully guarded her emotions. Nothing was more stimulating than making a proud man grovel. “I asked you a question.”