Felice folded her arms, trying to mirror his belligerent stance. “How do you know the cargo ship was scheduled to take off today?”
“Because I read the manifest they posted on their hull as per regulation. Cargo and schedule. Like I keep telling Rees, I’m fucked up, not stupid.”
Felice suddenly wanted to smile, but she fought it. “Then you’ll know I can’t stay here.”
“I do know that. I’m working on finding you a safe place to hide.”
“Oh.” Felice stopped. “Where?”
Kieran’s growl rumbled through him. “It’s not something I talk about out loud. I was planning to wait until dark, but it’s probably better now. Put your robes back on—we’re going.”
Felice wasted a few seconds staring at him with her mouth open, then she quickly slid the robes over her head. “Why didn’t you say so? Before I got all brave about leaving you?”
“Told you—not something I mention out loud. You’re supposed to trust me. I’m going to work on that.” Kieran snatched sun goggles off the hook beside the door and thrust them at her. “Rees will kill me, but too damn bad. Come on; we’re going.”
Chapter Twelve
Felice didn’t speak as Kieran tugged her by the hand through the narrow, unshaded alleys and crowded and covered markets. Again, he seemed to know the best ways around the patrollers and their routes. But then, he’d walked these streets for years, probably knew by heart every step the patrollers took.
Felice’s heart was still thumping strangely. No one, but no one had been this protective of her, this caring, in years. Whenever an indentured worker got hurt, they were taken to a medic, true, but only so they could be patched up as quickly as possible and sent back to work.
For all his hard words, Kieran wanted to help her, and not because she could give him anything in return. Felice hadn’t given him a damn thing so far, yet he’d fed her, clothed her, protected her, pleasured her.
Felice squeezed his hand. Kieran was large and strong, and could be frightening, but her affection for him was increasing every moment.
Kieran looked down at her at the squeeze, and then one of those sinful Shareem smiles spread across his face. Felice wanted to melt right here in the street, his smile hotter than the desert sun.
They reached a part of town that had very little traffic, foot or vehicle. Warehouses abounded, and shade was nowhere. At this time of day—midafternoon—wise Bor Nargans stayed inside where it was cool.
Felice said nothing when Kieran led her inside a large, empty open warehouse. Asking him out loud where he was taking her would be foolish, even in this seemingly abandoned area. One never knew who was listening.
There was absolutely nothing in the warehouse, though. If Felice had been alone, looking for a place to hide, she’d not have chosen this building. The enormous doors were wide open—dry-rusted that way, it looked like—and most of one wall had crumbled away. A few moments out of the sun would be the best this place offered.
Kieran walked to the middle of the empty floor. He paused, as though looking for something, then he turned and strode back to the entrance. Felice, still holding his hand, had to jog to keep up.
When Kieran reached the edge of the warehouse, he swung around and started for the middle again. Felice bit back her questions, but when he made for the entrance and then back to the middle a third time, she couldn’t stay quiet.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“I never know where it is,” Kieran said, sounding frustrated. “And he doesn’t always want me to know.”
“He, who?”
Kieran growled at empty air. “He’s trying to make me want to walk away, but he should know me better than that.”
Felice wished she knew what the hell he was talking about, but she also realized questions right now were useless. She took a tighter hold of his hand and waited.
Kieran addressed the space in front of him. “Let me in. I’m not going away. We have to hide her. Rees said.”
Something shimmered about six feet to Kieran’s right. Felice snapped around to look at it, but the shimmering vanished as swiftly as it had come.
“Today,” Kieran said impatiently. “You know I can stand here for as long as it takes.”
Another shimmer, which didn’t fade this time. Kieran rumbled, “Finally.”
He started at a run with Felice straight at the shimmer, which at the last moment turned into an open door.
Kieran pulled Felice inside . . . and she was falling, falling. She clutched at Kieran, then found herself on her feet in front of another door. This one opened to show a short hallway with a small, square lift at the far end.
Kieran led Felice inside the lift without question or worry. The door slid smoothly shut and the lift plummeted downward.
Felice clung to Kieran’s hand. “Can I ask questions now?”
“I wouldn’t,” Kieran said, at the same time a disembodied, soft male voice replied, I cannot answer all your questions, but I will filter them and answer the ones I can without danger. Welcome dojokuner. We are honored by your visit. Perhaps you would consider demonstrating your skill once you are rested and hydrated?
*** *** ***
“Where the holy hell are we?” Felice demanded. She sounded scared, and Kieran couldn’t blame her, but this place, unfortunately, was the safest in Pas City.
The lift disgorged them into another corridor, this one smelling faintly of lemon. At the end of the hall was a large lounge containing soft chairs and sofas plus a round table filled with dishes. One wall was covered with an animated mural of cool, green woods. A glass pitcher of real water with lemon slices and ice waited in the middle of the table.
“The lair of Dr. Laas, my dear,” a woman said.
Kieran noted the entrance of the last scientist of DNAmo distractedly as he went to the table to pour Felice a glass of water.
“Lair?” Felice asked nervously.
Dr. Laas, in her usual working coverall over her shapely body, her face enhanced by the plastic surgery she was brilliant at, smiled at Felice. “My word for it. I built—or rather, rebuilt—this place from the ground down and made it my own. I’m persona non grata above the surface, and so I live my life here, watching the world go by.”
She gestured at the mural, which immediately changed to show the warehouse Kieran had just charged through. That picture shrank, and the rest of the screen filled with pictures of Pas City’s streets, including the corner near Kieran’s apartment. Dr. Laas saw and knew all.
“Wow,” Felice said. “And you stay down here? I’d think with all this technology, you could build your own ship and fly away.”
Dr. Laas shrugged. She had dark brown hair today—it changed often—but her deep brown eyes still held the kindness that had saved the life of many a Shareem. “I don’t want to abandon my boys. When they go, I will, but not until.”
“Your boys?” Felice asked.
“She means Shareem,” Kieran said, coming back with the glass of water. “She invented us.”
Dr. Laas looked modest. “Only in a sense. And I had a lot of help.”
Felice had taken the water and was drinking thirstily, but she broke off, her mouth wet, to give Dr. Laas an angry look. “You made them? You’re responsible for the shitty way they’re treated?”
Dr. Laas blinked. “Goodness, no . . .”
“But you created them,” Felice interrupted. “You combined DNA, or whatever you did, to pop out these men that no one wants except for sex.”
She has a point, the disembodied voice said.
“Shut up, Baine,” Kieran said.
Dr. Laas flushed, but she looked ashamed. “You are perfectly right, my dear. I made them for my own selfish reasons—to see if I could. I didn’t realize what I’d done until much later, when others took them and treated them like fodder for their experiments. You are right. I’m to blame.”
“Does it matter?” Kieran asked. He restrained himself from drinking the water
straight from the pitcher and made himself use a glass. If he’d been alone, he wouldn’t have bothered. “We’re here now. Felice is in danger.”
Rees won’t like it, Baine said.
“Rees can suck it,” Kieran returned. “Gods, I hate arguing with machinery.” He directed his words at Dr. Laas. “If you didn’t believe me, you wouldn’t have let me in.”
“That’s true,” Dr. Laas said. “Baine didn’t want to. I had to persuade him, which is what took so long. Sorry about that.”
“Yeah, well. Like I said, we’re here now. Felice ran away from being pretty much slave labor. The company wants her back, and I bet the ruling family would be happy to hand her over. I can’t let them, and neither will you.”
Dr. Laas held up her hands. “I know all about it. I watch the news feeds.”
Felice finished off the water and held the empty glass while Kieran noisily downed his own. “How did you—or whoever talked to us in the elevator—know I was dojokuner? Did you listen in at the meeting?”
“No, indeed. Baine can only tap into existing cameras, and for obvious reasons, Rees gathers Shareem where there are no monitors. I saw the fight at the docks. Most impressive.” Dr. Laas gave her a big smile. “I’d love to see your moves. Maybe Baine can make a hologram for you to fight so you can demonstrate. Dojokuners fascinate me.”
“Baine?” Felice glanced around. “Who’s Baine?”
“My computer. Baine, meet Felice. Felice, this is Baine.” The monitor feeds on the wall vanished. The wall turned dark blue, then rapidly ran through all colors in the spectrum before the picture of the forest returned.
Pleased to meet you, Baine said.
“Likewise,” Felice said, somewhat breathlessly. “I guess. I don’t think I’ve ever met a computer before.”
You’ve never met a Baine before, it said smugly. I’m more than just a computer.
“A computer that talks way too much,” Kieran broke in. “You have a spare bedroom?”
“One is now prepared,” Dr. Laas said. She sent Kieran a wink, knowing exactly what was going on, as usual. “Why don’t you take her down? I have a million things to do.”
*** *** ***
Down meant farther into the bowels of this place, Felice realized as another lift plummeted them a long way. The elevator finally spilled them out into another hall that led to a bedroom suite more sumptuous than any Felice had ever stayed in.
She’d worried, as they plunged downward, that the weight of the planet above them would give her claustrophobia, but whoever had designed the suite must have thought of that. The ceilings were high, and a floor-to-ceiling window looked out to a wide, sunny vista so real Felice thought she could open the door and walk out into it. Her mouth dropped open when Kieran did open the glass door and walk outside.
Felice hastened after him. She found herself on a sloping lawn, with trees moving in a breeze at the bottom of the hill. Flower beds had been planted around the back of the suite, which looked like a cozy brick house from this side. A white-painted wrought-iron table and chairs sat on the lawn near the flowerbeds, perfect for an outdoor lunch. The air was cool but not cold, warm but not hot.
This was the perfect summer day in a perfect B&B in a perfect little patch of Old Earth. The only odd things in this landscape were Felice and Kieran.
Kieran looked way out of place with his body-hugging tunic and black chain on his upper arm. Felice imagined him in Earth clothes—jeans maybe, and a T-shirt. He’d look like a biker. The universe had changed in the last couple thousand years, and so had modes of transportation, but there were still bikers. Probably had been in Roman times too—they’d just called themselves something different.
But even as she looked at Kieran, redressed in her mind, Felice grinned and shook her head. Nope, he’d still look out of place.
“What are you laughing at?” Kieran asked, an irritated edge to his voice.
“Us. This place is amazing.” Felice turned in a circle, gazing upward. All she saw was soft blue sky and sunshine. A few clouds drifted through for good measure.
“Holograms,” Kieran said.
“I figured that. Why don’t the Shareem just move down here? That super-duper computer can build you a world that looks nothing like Bor Narga.”
She was half joking, but the idea appeared to make Kieran angry. “Because it’s not real. We’d be trapped together, nowhere to go, forever. You ever hung out with a bunch of Shareem? Their company gets old, quick.”
“The computer could make hologram people,” Felice mused. “Hologram women that could really have sex. You could practice your level-three stuff on them.”
Kieran came to her so fast that Felice was barely aware he’d moved, until he was towering over her, hemming her in. She couldn’t get away. She’d never be able to, she realized. Her heart thumped in excitement.
“I don’t want to go level three on a fucking moronic hologram made by Baine.” Kieran’s scowl was fierce. “I want to go level three on you. In fact, it’s time. You’ve disobeyed my commands again and again. Choose your punishment.”
*** *** ***
Kieran watched Felice’s cheeks burn red. She didn’t know how to answer, but he knew she must be thinking of something wicked, something she was afraid to tell him.
He slid his hand to her hair, catching it and pulling her head back so he could kiss her lips. “Choose. What do you want me to do?”
“I don’t know,” she stammered.
“You do know. What are you thinking?”
Felice’s face turned redder still. She glanced at the white-painted wrought-iron table and chairs and bit her lip.
Kieran suppressed a grin. He got the gist, even if she was uncomfortable voicing her needs. One day, when he’d trained her all the way, she’d not hesitate to ask for what she wanted.
Kieran released her and turned away. “Baine,” he said. “Give me level three, sub-level C.”
Baine answered without his usual weary tone. “Leather or metal?”
“Leather,” Kieran said. Ease her into it.
The air on top of the table shimmered, and when it cleared, Kieran had all he needed.
Felice remained a few steps away, her eyes widening. “What is all that?”
“Accoutrements. I didn’t have time to pack my own. Come here.”
Felice walked the few steps toward him. She could have run—the holo-room was gigantic—could have hidden in the trees at the end of the slope or run back through the suite to the lift and demand Baine give her a room where she could lock Kieran out.
The fact that she chose to stay sent warmth through him.
Kieran didn’t look at her as he arranged things on the table. “Coverall, off,” he said.
Felice didn’t wait or ask questions this time. She peeled off the shoes, then the coverall and underwear.
Kieran looked up from the table to find her naked, and he had to stop and catch his breath. She was beautiful. Her body was honed from fighting and work, her breasts lush and full, her dark rose-colored nipples tightening as Kieran studied her. Her hair, clean now from all her bathing, brushed her shoulders, flowing straight and simply, a few wisps caught on her cheeks.
The beauty of her took his breath away. The dark hair between her legs would already be wet, he knew, and it was all Kieran could do to not go to her and find out.
Instead, he took the sets of leather cuffs from the table, and busied himself closing them around her wrists. He fastened the second cuff of one set to the table, the second one of the other to the sturdy chair. While Felice watched, wide-eyed, Kieran took two tethers and bound her ankles, one to the table, one to the chair.
He stood up again, looking her over. Perfect. Her position would let him drink her, use the chair to sex her while facing her, or bend her over from behind. His cock pounded, wanting him to do all three, right now.
Instead he picked up the strap, thin and leather, though the leather was softer than what he used for women who liked it
hardcore. Kieran knew how to judge what his ladies craved and exactly what they could take. He was never wrong.
He kept himself clothed, though his body itched to shed the tunic and hold Felice’s warmth to his. He’d learned long ago how to ignore his own needs to look after his lady.
Kieran moved behind Felice and put his hand on the back of her neck. “Bend over.”
Felice was shaking, he felt that, but she slowly bent at the waist, the tethers letting her rest her right hand on the table, the left on the chair.
Kieran liked the view. Her pretty ass was round above strong thighs, her hips as strong. He couldn’t resist leaning down and kissing one cheek, smiling to himself when she jumped.
Before she could decide that all Kieran planned to do was play, he stood up and slapped her backside with the strap.
Felice jumped, letting out a squeal. Kieran smacked her ass again, then kept the spanks coming, not waiting for her to settle herself between each one. She jerked and cried out, but she didn’t try to fight or get away.
Kieran had seen Felice in action—he knew damn well that if she wanted to break the tethers and kick the whip out of his hand, she could. Hell, she could pick up the chair and deck him with it.
She didn’t. She stayed folded over, submitting, while Kieran made her backside rosy with the strap.
“Are you going to disobey me again, Felice?” Kieran asked, his voice sliding into smooth Dom tones.
“No. No. I promise.”
She lied. Felice wasn’t made for obedience, didn’t matter how long she’d been kept a slave. Kieran would direct her, Felice would do what she pleased, and Kieran would punish her. That’s how it would happen. The anticipation wound him in tense wires of excitement.
“I don’t believe you,” Kieran said. He whipped her a few more times.
Felice let out a half scream. “I promise,” she said breathlessly.
“Hmm.” Kieran let fly a few more swats, the strap cracking across her tight skin. “You’ll do it again, and we know it. But I’ll always have my straps.”
Kieran (Tales of the Shareem) Page 11