“They won’t come.” Helton’s voice was harsh, like two enormous boulders rubbing together. “The Treagen people have never left their world.” Helton softened his tone at Kasmiri’s hurt expression. “I would have told you this privately if you’d explained why you were dragging me up here.” Bowing to Bithia, he added, “I am truly sorry, my lady, for getting your hopes up when I cannot help you.”
“Do you rule these people?” A sharp, commanding tone filled Bithia’s voice.
“No, my lady, I own the planet on which they live, but I do not rule them. The planet was given to me as a gift.”
An entire world as a gift? Suddenly, Drahka felt very small and terribly concerned about the tribe he left behind.
“There is no harm in asking them, is there?” Bithia nodded to her sister, who in turn nodded imploringly to Helton. Sterlave glowered behind Helton’s back while Rown continued to sneak peeks as his crotch. The only one who had no say at all in the matter was the one man the outcome would affect. Viltori lay still and silent in his glass cage. Drahka placed his hand above his friend, trying to feel what he would want them to do. And then he remembered a story his teacher had told him.
“I think we should try.” Every gaze swung his way. Clearing his throat, Drahka added, “The worst they can say is no. However, they might say yes.”
“They have never left their planet,” Helton reminded him.
“Then we will give them a good reason to do so.” Now that he’d made up his mind to seek the help of the Treagen people, he wouldn’t let anything hold him back. “Who will go with me?”
“I will go.” Bithia lifted her chin, her eyes shining with pride that he’d stepped forward, forcing the decision to be made.
“No, my chosen, you are ruler of this world. It is far too dangerous for you to go.” Drahka cast his gaze to Sterlave. “You have been there. You know their ways.”
Shrugging helplessly, Sterlave looked to his bondmate, but Kasmiri practically pushed him toward Drahka. “Of course he will go.” At Sterlave’s annoyed frown, she added, “He would be happy to help my sister, the empress, she from which all good things flow.” Her words were a not-too-subtle reminder that being in Bithia’s favor was important. Helping her now could endear them to her for a lifetime.
“As much as I appreciate your…willingness, Sterlave, I cannot ask you to go if you fear any danger.” Bithia tried to keep her words politic, but there was a tone of gentle chiding since she herself had offered to go.
Helton scoffed, causing Sterlave to roll his eyes very much like Kasmiri had, then out the side of his mouth snarled, “I’m not a coward, old man.”
“I said nothing.” Helton lifted his bulky arms and flattened his hands, holding his palms out. “But they are the tiniest of people who would not harm a child.”
“Then we are agreed.” Drahka turned and kissed Bithia soundly on the lips. She embraced him, and he took the opportunity to lower his lips to her ear. Quietly, so the others could not hear, he whispered, “You must swear to me that if this fails, we will let him go. Swear it.” He pulled back and Bithia gave a short, curt nod, but he could see the hope shining through. He feared again what would happen if they failed.
“You will need a servant as they will need one to talk through.” Helton considered Rown. “He will do nicely.”
Rown’s entire body lifted with excitement and his lips parted to accept.
“No,” Sterlave said before Rown could say anything. “They can talk through me.”
Crumpling back against the wall, Rown hung his head and pouted.
“Don’t do that. I hate when you do that.” Closing the distance between them, Sterlave took Rown’s shoulders into his hands. “I want you here to watch over Kasmiri.”
“I can watch over myself.” Kasmiri stood tall, but that only made her vulnerable belly seem larger.
“I will stay here with her,” Bithia offered. Smoothly moving to Kasmiri’s side, she looped her arm through hers. The resemblance between them was even more pronounced.
“They will not talk through you, you are too high in rank.” Helton clearly didn’t agree with the assessment he’d just rendered.
Glaring, Sterlave asked, “How would they know the difference?”
“They do.” Helton looked again to Rown. “It’s either him or another servant.”
Expression hopeful, Rown looked up at Sterlave with eyes so wide they were like twin pools of pleading. Realizing he now had no good reason to say no, he reluctantly gave in. “But I want you two,” he pointed to Kasmiri and Bithia, “at the portal. I don’t trust some people not to close the way behind me.”
Helton startled back as if struck. “Ambo closed the gate on you, not I.”
“Still.” Sterlave considered Drahka for a moment, but Drahka did not know what the man weighed or measured in him. “You cannot take that.” Lifting his hand, he pointed to Drahka’s hips.
Confused, Drahka palmed his cock.
“Your sword.” High spots of red appeared on Sterlave’s cheeks. “We cannot ask for help if we are armed.”
Removing his gleaming Sword of the Empress, Drahka handed it to Bithia for safekeeping. “Should we not take a gift or an offering of some kind?”
Helton shook his head. “You will not need one.” There was something in his eyes, something not malevolent, not malicious, but perhaps mischievous? “They will ask you to stay for a while and that will be your gift to them. If they offer food and drink, be sure to consume the items or they will be gravely insulted.”
Sterlave didn’t seem to notice the odd gleam in Helton’s eyes, so Drahka let his gut instinct pass. Perhaps his senses were only heightened due to his grieving being put on hold. With a last look to Viltori, they left the infirmary.
Twisting around the seemingly endless palace hallways, they finally made their way to a simple room. Had Drahka not known better, he would think a servant lived here. Clean and orderly, the cramped room held a bed, a washbasin and a cloth folded over a rope that hung high between two walls. Behind the drape lay their destiny. Here, a large flat oval hovered above the floor. Silent but sparkling, the gateway loomed, calling to Drahka. His heart lurched.
“Are you afraid?” Sterlave’s face expressed concern, not condescension.
“No.” Fear was not what gave him a feeling of lightheaded anticipation.
Without asking, Sterlave tucked Drahka’s long hair down the back of his shirt.
“I am in awe.” What magic they took for granted! Traveling between worlds with only one stride. Drahka had always felt large, but this made him feel a giant. Holding his breath, he did as Sterlave said and simply stepped within the gate.
Rushing winds ripped along his body as lights glittered beyond his tightly closed eyes. If Sterlave had not hidden his hair away, the wind would have whipped the strands into his face and around his neck. Per Sterlave’s instructions Drahka pressed his legs tightly together but kept his knees unlocked. When he was suddenly spit out the other side, he discovered why. Landing awkwardly on one foot, he caught his balance by flinging out his arms and flexing his knees. Before he could look around, Rown almost crashed into him. Drahka caught him before he fell, but not before Rown clutched madly at him, getting a handful of his cock and butt in the process. Drahka wasn’t sure, but he didn’t think Rown was quite that unsteady on his feet. Still, accusing him of indiscriminately groping him seemed inappropriate, so Drahka let it go. After a moment, Sterlave joined them. He landed perfectly on both feet. Drahka let a small trickle of annoyance pass as Sterlave had been this way before.
When Drahka turned, his mouth fell open.
They stood at the end of an enormous room seemingly carved out of one solid piece of rock. The color was unlike anything Drahka had ever seen. It was as if all the colors known to him danced before his eyes. Blinking fiercely, as if to correct his vision, Drahka then noticed the heat. Sweat gathered under his arms and between his legs. He pulled his hair out of his shirt, gratefu
l he’d bound the heavy weight of it. At the far end of the room, he saw a throne, also carved right out of the rock. Everything had a pall of quiet, as if this place had been vacant for time beyond measuring.
“Where are the people?” Rown flinched when his voice echoed off the far wall, repeating softly until it finally died away.
“There wasn’t anyone last time,” Sterlave whispered in the vast space. He stood over a spot on the floor for a moment, as if recalling what had happened here. “They must have cleaned up the stain.” With a deep breath, he lifted his head. “Let’s move.” Sterlave strode toward the side wall. Confused, Drahka followed behind. His panic rose as Sterlave walked right into the wall…which disappeared, letting him pass. Rown went next and Drahka brought up the rear.
Unlike the hallways at the palace, this one was so small Drahka had to hunch over. Sweat gathered at his neck, then ran down his chest.
Before they got far, Sterlave stopped. Peering over Sterlave’s shoulder, Drahka saw a curious group of people. Tiny, thin, extremely pale with silver hair, and all dressed in the same loose, shimmering fabric, Drahka could not tell male from female. Enormous silver eyes with side-slitted pupils considered them without emotion. Narrow lips below almost-absent noses did not move, but Drahka felt as if they’d spoken.
“They remember you,” Rown said to Sterlave. “They wish for you to follow.”
“I guess Helton was right.” Casting his gaze over his shoulder to Drahka, Sterlave said, “Last time, they didn’t say anything. Well, nothing Kasmiri and I could understand.” Clapping a hand to Rown’s shoulder, he added, “Thank you for coming.”
Bowing graciously, Rown took the point position as they followed the small troop down the hall.
Drahka wanted to prompt Rown to ask for what they wanted, but he realized they had to show graciousness to their hospitality first. Helton had been very clear on that point.
With a precise flick of his hand, the leader caused a doorway to appear. When they entered the room, Drahka’s eyebrows climbed. Before him was an exact replica of the empress suite. Right down to the fur rugs on the floor and the glass ceiling above. However, instead of sky, he saw only light. He knew it wasn’t sunlight as the tone was wrong. Simulated to mimic the twin suns of Diola, it came close but not quite. Still, he found the entire thing odd. Why would these people wish to imitate that room? Sterlave seemed unconcerned, which counseled Drahka to show no reaction.
At the table where he and Bithia shared their meals, someone had laid out an enormous feast. Lifting his head, Rown said, “They offer refreshments.”
Once the three of them settled at the table, the skinny pale people left.
“Last time they watched me and Kasmiri eat.”
Slipping a piece of sugar-drenched nicla into his mouth, Rown said, “You were injured. They wanted to make sure they had healed you fully.” Chewing, Rown turned his gaze around the room. His chewing slowed as he considered.
“What?” Sterlave stuffed a hunk of seared meat into his mouth as he too looked about.
Dismissing the question with a shake of his head, Rown wiped his hands upon a wetted napkin. He rose with startling elegance, then moved about the suite. Running his hands over the furniture, Rown seemed to be inspecting the place for authenticity. He moved a padded chair to a specific spot on the floor, considered the position, then moved off to inspect the bed.
Eating without tasting, Drahka couldn’t stop thinking of Viltori and Bithia. He did not want to waste any time lingering here, but if this show of courteousness would grant them a cure, he had no choice but to do his best.
Leaning close, Sterlave asked, “Does the food taste funny?”
“The food does not make me wish to laugh.” Drahka plucked his sweaty shirt from his chest.
A great chuckle came from deep inside Sterlave’s chest. “I meant does the food taste odd to you.”
“No, it’s fine, but why is this room like Bithia’s?”
Shrugging, Sterlave grabbed an enormous roll, ripped it in half and ravenously ate one portion then the next.
“When do we ask them for help?” Drahka pushed away from the table. He had done his best to eat, but he could choke nothing else down past the lump in his throat.
“They know.” Rown turned with a cryptic smile that was reminiscent of the one Helton had flashed. “But first we must give them our gift.”
Pushing back from the table, Sterlave scratched his belly contentedly. “I thought we didn’t have to bring one.”
“We have all that we need right in this room.” A chill of foreboding went up Drahka’s spine when Rown looked right at him with unabashed hunger in his eyes. He held his gaze as he returned to the table and poured three equal glasses of sparkling liquid. Plucking one cup up for himself, he nudged the other two at Sterlave and Drahka. Warily they picked them up. “Drink,” Rown encouraged, quaffing his share quickly.
With a quick glance to Sterlave, who gave a bored shrug and a smirk of dismissal, Drahka drank. Flavor exploded across his tongue as the warmth of the drink went straight to his belly, then spread out along his limbs. Suddenly, the high heat seemed to have gotten much worse. Plastered against his sweaty chest, his shirt stuck uncomfortably against his skin, matting down his hair, making him feel as if he walked through water.
Without a word, Rown stepped forward and popped the buttons apart, one by one. Mesmerized, Drahka stood, clutching the table for support while Rown’s skilled hands quickly peeled his shirt away, pulling it from his shoulders, down his arms and off his back. Cool air hit him like a blessing. Freed, Drahka sighed while Rown draped the sodden mess over the back of a chair.
“What are you doing, Rown?” Sterlave stood. He too wavered a bit so he grasped the table edge.
How could the drink affect the two of them so much more than Rown? He was half Drahka’s weight. As he took a step to widen his stance, and thus give himself better balance, his foot gooshed into the rug below. Looking down, he saw a splot of liquid. Rather than drinking, Rown had held the liquid in his mouth, then spit it out when their attention was diverted.
“You wicked little man,” Drahka said, wagging his finger at an unconcerned Rown.
Moving toward Sterlave, Rown took his hand and guided him, unresisting, to the chair he had so carefully placed. Sterlave fell into the seat with an ungainly plop. Leaning over him, loosening his shirt, Rown softly said, “Our gift to them is a simple one. They wish to watch.” Pushing the shirt off his shoulders, Rown slid the fabric down his arms.
“Watch what?” Sterlave looked around the room in confusion, then suddenly his mind cleared. “Oh, no. No, no. I’m not doing that for a bunch of voyeuristic barsitas.”
Sterlave struggled to stand, but Rown pushed him back into the chair effortlessly. “You don’t have to do anything. Do as they do. Watch.” With that, he skillfully pushed Sterlave’s arms to the backrest of the chair, and tied him with the sleeves of his shirt. Growling, Sterlave struggled, until Rown leaned in, placing his face right before his master’s face. “Please,” he whispered. “Let me do this to help Viltori. This is the least I can do after running like a coward.”
Drahka almost interrupted that had he not run, both of them would be dead, but he held his tongue.
Sterlave considered Rown, their noses almost touching, then he darted his gaze to Drahka. “You want him.” His tone was cold with accusation. Resentment filled his gaze.
A bashful smile tilted up the corners of Rown’s lips. “Yes, so this is truly no sacrifice. And it is in my blood to provide pleasure. It’s been so long since—” Rown cut himself off with a frustrated sigh. Spoken so softly Drahka almost couldn’t hear him from across the room, Rown wept, “You don’t want me yourself, but you won’t let me be with others. You owe me this.”
Hurt twisted Sterlave’s face. Battling between his own possessive nature and letting go to please his friend, begrudgingly, Sterlave nodded. He closed his eyes as if he could not believe what he’d done.
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Permission heaped upon his head like a crown, Rown moved toward Drahka. He would have turned away, but there was nowhere to go. And the drink, or the air, or even what he’d felt before leaving Viltori compelled him to submit. How could a massive man such as he allow such a tiny man to command him?
Rown sank to his knees before him, causing his prick to press fully hard against his sweaty pants. Slipping off one boot then the other, Rown stood, unfastened his trousers and then peeled them slowly away. Each soggy bit of fabric that shifted away from his skin brought cool air to his overheated body.
Swearing in a language Drahka didn’t understand, Sterlave watched as Rown undressed him. Sterlave’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open. “I’ve never seen a cock that big.”
Cupping him almost reverently, Rown whispered, “Neither have I.” Looking up at Drahka’s face, he added, “And uncut too.” Taking his hand, Rown lead Drahka to the bed, settling him on the edge. “I wanted to be on my knees while you stood, but you are far too tall.” Pushing his unresisting legs apart, Rown knelt between his feet. “But this will do.”
Placing his hands on his knees helped Drahka keep his balance and not topple forward. This also put him in a perfect position to watch Rown. Just as Drahka had imagined, Rown didn’t suck his cock. He worshiped the entire length. Taking his prick into trembling hands, Rown caressed the shaft, then placed hot, open-mouthed kisses all the way from his balls to the head.
“Viltori could not stop talking of you.” Rown slipped his tongue around the crown. “Every morning he would tell me of something you did.” He rolled his tongue again. “Something you said.” When he took the tip into the hot wetness of his mouth, Drahka resisted the urge to thrust his hips.
Darting a glance to Sterlave, Drahka discovered his face was a mixture of lust and torment. Slipping his gaze down revealed a fully erect cock straining against the sweaty fabric of his black pants. Sweat outlined his groin, making his erection seem far larger than it actually was.
Rown released Drahka’s prick from his mouth and reverently whispered, “He made you seem a god, so highly did he praise you.”
Wicked Empress:The Onic Empire, Book 4 Page 21