Empress Hiding

by Y. M. Roger

  She began to speak, although this time her voice seemed too rough, too forced although much more authoritative.

  “How far, Auger Guard?”

  Chiyoto’s steps seemed awkward as he tried to discern the complete difference in her address of him.

  “It is a ways but not too far that …”

  You see, you were too occupied with your Rafal to realize just how isolated the Royal Suite is.

  Chiyoto barely managed a smile and a slight huff as she reminded her Runa inwardly to be kind to Sila – that he was looking out for them.

  Sleep, my Treasure.

  Chiyoto’s steps ceased and her grip on Sila’s arm relented although her body remained upright, her hand still resting on his arm where it had earlier ripped the uniform material. His voice trailed off as he paused in his pace to glance down at her.

  Her eyes – initially closed at first glance – flew open and a bright magenta shown forth from them

  “Faithful Sila, one with Hiroto, you will carry us gently to the Royal Suite to the steward, Dalis.”

  Sila’s breath caught in his throat – this was his Empress-Heir speaking, and the passageway seemed to grow narrower the way her voice filled it and bore into him.

  Hiroto was right. The power she housed …

  I told you, my Sila.

  Hiroto whispered almost silently inside of him as the Black Guard gulped in realization.

  Sila quickly lifted Chiyoto’s small yet solid frame against him and proceeded as quickly as safety would allow.

  Their future Empress had given them an order, and his cargo was precious beyond all measures.

  Chapter 21

  Khitam looked over the report that Ferenti had meticulously prepared regarding the altercation on Prince Hondo’s landing platform and in the hangar. The facts as presented had been compiled based on eye-witness accounts given by the pilot and the attendant – both of whom had not even been allowed to deplane following the chaotic combat that had occurred.

  The Khedive growled low in his throat.

  “She was completely eliminated?” The bear especially had enjoyed marking and conditioning the cold-hearted blonde female for Perse Assassin service. Having been grown in a solitary habitat without attention or affection, her mouth had had no qualms about doing what was asked of her, and she had almost sadistically enjoyed the things placed into her other orifices.

  And the fact that her one-of-a-kind existence was now exterminated left them both feeling like a precious object had been stolen from them.

  Ferenti could not even meet Khitam’s questioning gaze and there was a slight tremor in his voice.

  “So, far as we can determine, yes, my lord,” the shentalingra took a deep, trepidatious breath, “But there seems to be a small residual life reading emanating from just inside the Prince’s palace walls. However, we do not have enough information to determine its viability at this point nor do we know how it got that far from the conflict area which was near the ship.”

  “And memory of assignment or origins? Would there be enough?”

  Ferenti could tell the Khedive was irritated with the outcome, but, so far, that irritation had not manifested itself towards the bearer of the bad news.

  “Because we never expected such a small sample to survive, there are no test results available that would positively answer your question, my Lord,” Ferenti licked lips that had gone dry with his nerves, “The female yilan was the singular specimen known to exist.

  The advisor seemed genuinely apologetic – the bear liked his subservience and submission. Khitam breathed deeply with the satisfaction that flowed from within himself.

  “Mmmmm,” the Khedive seemed deep in thought, “And do we have any ident as to the three or four Reds that seemed to have been eliminated?”

  Ferenti tried desperately to keep the enjoyment out of his response, but it was difficult to contain.

  “The Empire’s top competitor, Captain Marid, was carried out of the fight area with blood dripping from his head.”

  The bear’s keen senses zeroed in on Ferenti’s glee, and Khitam reached across and lifted Ferenti’s face to his own – the shentalingra’s eyes bright with amusement met his master’s dominating ones and quickly settled back to sedate with Khitam’s question.

  “Does that delight you, my pet?”

  Ferenti felt his breath catch in his throat – the Khedive’s voice had dropped those few octaves to sound a lot more bearlike again. He hesitated to answer even as he felt a stirring between his crossed legs – his body was responding in the decidedly wrong manner!

  Khitam continued.

  “Because it certainly does us. If it was not for that kahrolasi demercriere, our son would have more respect for his sire,” the anger burned in the Khedive’s eyes and a slight ache began in the pit of Ferenti’s stomach – the fire in the mad ruler’s eyes was the same anger that had been there last evening before …

  Khitam’s grip on his advisor’s chin increased as the bear growled loudly from within him. Ferenti reached up to caress the arm that held him in an effort to calm the beast before things got out of control again – his shentalingra muttering and trembling inside of him.

  “My lord, we are so sorr …,” Ferenti’s words and efforts were halted abruptly as Khitam’s unshaven mouth crashed over his own – his tongue demanding access – his hand reaching across the space between them and clenching tightly on the advisor’s already responding package.

  Ferenti and his shentalingra whimpered in submission as the Khedive pulled away to breathe his rancid breath – yes even that smelled of the mental decay that was growing more evident by the day – across Fernti’s surprised and even fearful face.

  “Your apology is not necessary, delicious pet,” Khitam’s fingers reached up and sealed Ferenti’s lips tightly together as the bear’s snout suddenly and quite unsettlingly became present and, snarling in desperation, bit down hard on Ferenti’s shoulder. And as the terrified advisor screamed silently in pain, the Khedive’s hand found his semi-hard member and jacked it to full attention, finally seizing it in a chokehold as he raised his again-cognate face to meet Ferenti’s – the advisor almost completely engulfed in sobs again, “Only your presence is required.”

  The bear growled low and in agreement.

  “You have and always will belong to us,” Khitam roughly massaged Ferenti as he spoke over the trembling male’s pinched lips – reaching out with his tongue to taste the tears on his cheeks, the shentalingra whimpering constantly now – as they both awaited the advisor’s expected explosive acquiescence. “Now. Give us both something to smile for, pet,” Khitam’s breathing hitched almost as if it were him about to climax, and he spoke demandingly through clenched teeth, “Cum. Hard. Now!”

  The Khedive liberated Ferenti’s lips so that he could shout his release as the still growling Khitam drew the advisor’s back to his chest, massaging his pulsating member and raking his nails across Ferenti’s chest.

  “Soon you will be more willing,” Khitam growled demandingly in Ferenti’s ear as he expertly finished off the advisor’s throbbing acquiescence, “Because pleasing us is now your sole lifeline.”

  Khitam chuckled in unison with the deep growl of the bear as he pushed the recovering Ferenti away from him.

  Ferenti stumbled, trying to secure his lower garments and taking a deep breath as he began to collect the papers and other information regarding the failed operation to eliminate Hondo’s mate.

  Khitam walked to the bili area to wash his hands and straighten his garments – all the while watching Ferenti’s every movement in the speculum with a predator’s intensity. As the befuddled advisor turned toward the door, a thought occurred to the twisted Khedive … or was it to the bear? … or was there a difference anymore?

  Khitam shook his head as if to clear his clouded thoughts.
r />   “Pet?” Khitam made sure the depth of the bear sounded forth in his tone.

  Ferenti froze in his steps, but did not turn around, his pained and whimpered response barely reaching the Khedive’s waiting ears.

  “Y-y-y-ye-yes, my lord?”

  A grin pulled across Khitam’s face at the desperation in his advisor’s – no, in his pet’s – voice. Good. Despair meant compliance – the bear within him had already begun to salivate.

  “The green sise on the table there by the door, take it with you.”

  Ferenti reached for sise, still not turning to face his Khedive.

  “My lord?”

  His pet started to turn in question, but thought better of it and stopped mid-motion – the sise simply held up and back toward Khitam.

  “Yes, pet, that one,” Khitam leaned in closer to the speculum and pretended to toy with the black highlights dwindling even further in his hair – the sparkle of evil intent in his eyes almost blinding, “Be sure your parts the bear prefers are generously covered in it tonight when you bring us our sedative.”

  Khitam let the bear growl low and threateningly when Ferenti did not answer, but simply let his hand begin to tremble.

  “Understood, pet?” His demanding voice filled the bed chamber.

  A demand that was swiftly followed by more of the shentalingra’s whimpers and whines, but no true acknowledgement.

  “Is that understood, my pet?”

  Ferenti’s voice was filled with tremors.

  “But … but . …”

  His pet’s desperate search for words only served to invigorate the bear’s desires as a wicked chuckle escaped the Khedive’s lips.

  “Oh, yes, that and your delicious rod with all its adornments, pet,” the bear roared its agreement, “Every delectable part that is ours.”

  Ferenti whimpered loudly as he tried to respond in the affirmative.

  “Y-Y-Yes, m-my lord,” he managed to splutter through before he ran out the door.

  Khitam shook his head again and reached for his simple, open-front crown.

  He had an important meeting to attend with his top courtiers regarding the upcoming Anniversary Celebration.

  And those courtiers needed to know that this cycle’s celebration was to be extra special because the Bohrean Khedive had an announcement that would affect the entire Empire.

  And the marabilla puta still needs to die.

  Yes, Khitam agreed – they did still certainly need to handle that small detail as well.

  Ahhhh, it was good to be Khedive of the Great Bohrean Empire.

  Dalis smiled warmly at his Margreet, wishing with all that he and Mischief had that they could reach out and touch their mate and reassure her now. She had always been difficult to read through body language, but her eyes told everything: their female was terribly worried about their male’s safety on-board the ICT shuttle that, according to all info-accounts and vid-feeds, had been the victim of another retaliatory attack in response to Rafal’s calculated increasing tolerance towards and integratory rulings regarding Blood-bornes in his demesne.

  “We could feel eyes watching us at the magaza, my Dalis,” Margreet’s features almost seemed stone-still, but her sapphire eyes glinted with her fear and concern – and Mischief whined that he could picture the beautiful felnoturnian’s blue-green fur shiver in fear – they needed to hold them both to them into the night to reassure their females that nothing would hurt them, “And Cheo swore she felt waves of aggression from the Crimson predator behind us in the departure line.”

  The monger inside was going berserk with Cheo seemingly so upset, and Dalis had to fight to calm him. He asked further – knowing that felnoturnians in general and his Margreet in particular tended to be very narrowly focused and known to be more than slightly obsessive over small items without re-direction.

  “Think back, my beautiful mate,” they both saw the female’s features relax just in the least as her mesmerizing eyes locked solely on their mate, “Were there not other Crimsons nearby as you shopped and, especially, as you paid and departed?”

  Margreet’s face became almost placid as her sapphire eyes faded to more of a turquoise with her searching thoughts. Finally, she just slightly jerked her graceful head as if a realization had just occurred to them. She raised a graceful hand to her aquamarine hair that now bore streaks of beautiful silver due to her age and gently began running her long, narrow fingers rhythmically through it – Dalis felt his body respond to his mate’s alluring looks even though both he and Mischief knew that was not their intent at the moment.

  “Well, my Dalis,” a small grin crept across her face as a more playful glimmer entered her eyes, “There was the very polite young male laborer who carried our packages for us,” she paused even though the motion of her fingers in her hair dallied not, “Oh, and the older couple with the three little ones,” she laughed at nothing in particular except her own thoughts, “The paté stepped between the predator and us, his claws extended in aegis.”

  Finally, Mischief began to relax, and Dalis smiled warmly at his mate.

  “You see, Margreet, there are many Crimsons looking out for you as well,” Dalis reached out to the screen as if to touch his Margreet’s face in affection, “There will always be the usual malcontents with their speciatic problems, but most beings see you for the beautiful and gentle female that you are, my mate.”

  Mischief harrumphed and began mumbling about working for the crazy Prime Magistrate not helping matters.

  Dalis growled inwardly to chide Mischief yet continued to smile reassuringly at their mate – their mate was so much easier to reassure and to comfort in person. Standing beside her, Dalis hardly had to think about his hands roaming over her constantly as she much preferred he do – the stroking was a continuous reminder that their focus should be on their protective and devoted mate. Margreet took a long, relaxing breath – her features once again returning to the stone fascia they had been earlier – as she, too, reached toward the screen to meet Dalis’ fingers.

  And both Mischief and Dalis relaxed tremendously, although Mischief continued his internal tirade of the ridiculousness of their being on the public shuttle rather than practically home by now on the Prime Magistrate’s personal transport.

  All for some female that can never be a mate to him.

  But Dalis continued to ignore his altre’s rantings even though his mention of Chiyoto reminded him of what he wanted to share with his Margreet.

  “You are right, my Dalis,” her eyes once again smiled at him, “We should stop getting too focused on just one thing as usual,” but then the worry returned to those stunning blue irises, “But we need you back home with us,” her eyes stilted toward the mischievous momentarily, “Our body is lonely, and we are hungry for our mate.”

  Dalis felt the slight physical response in his pants from earlier increase exponentially with her implication – both he and Mischief tightening their fists and wiping a bit of drool from their respective mouths. Dalis reached down and adjusted himself to relieve the pressure from his throbbing member as the monger’s lustful snarl rose up his throat.

  “We promise you a full meal followed by an enjoyable dessert,” Dalis’ eyes darkened with his desire, “With lots and lots of extra tasting time to fully sate your hunger.”

  Mischief gurgled with longing as they watched the blush rise in Margreet’s cheeks – yes, after all of these decades, she still blushed at their verbal innuendos. It was only one in a veritable multitude of reasons that she was still the meaning in their lives.

  Margreet tried to recover her breathing from the wanton path that simply her Dalis’ words could point her down – how the gorgeous males could still move them physically never ceased to amaze her or Cheo. Dalis and his Mischief had been their life and their foundation from the moment the two of them had arrived simultaneously to that instrum
ental practice room at the civic center – they had both been completely over-whelmed by the intoxicating male scent of them. So much so, in fact, that even though she had tried to sit through one of Dalis’ impromptu performances, her arousal scent had been too much of a distraction for the intelligent young male whom everyone knew as the Crowned Prince’s personal attendant. No, by the time their accidental simultaneously-scheduled practice times were complete, Margreet and Cheo had fully and completely belonged to Dalis and Mischief.

  And Margreet felt her body’s core warm with the thoughts of that night – Cheo responding by rubbing herself rapidly in Margreet’s mind’s eye.

  “Will you be here soon, my Dalis?” she could no longer mask her need for him as she conspicuously rubbed an open palm across her breasts – her long graceful hand actually taking a brief moment to squeeze the second one.

  Once again, his Margreet was of a single focus – good sometimes. Others? Well, others not so good….

  “Soon, beautiful. We will be joined by tomorrow evening, I promise,” Dalis swallowed hard as Mischief’s growl of desire rolled up his throat again. This would get them nowhere but to have Mischief completely tear up their quarters later this evening while Dalis slept – his altre’s “mischief” done out of sexual frustration rather than simple curiosity was always much more destructive.

  Dalis ran his fingers through his silvery, shoulder-length hair as he shook his head to clear it.

  “Oh, Margreet!” his voice raised to break the mood and bring their conversation back to a more workable topic – Margreet’s attention grabbed completely at his exclamation, “Guess what?”

  His mate shifted gears as quickly as his tone – her eyes returning from the deep indigo of desire back to the strong sapphire of current awareness.

  “Mischief learned to pick up after himself?” Margreet’s eyes shown with enjoyment at the recall of a joke that had been running in their relationship since the first morning they had awakened in Dalis’ small quarters at the Royal Palace barracks. It seemed that Mischief’s night time presence had completely undone all of the organizing Margreet had done the previous day trying to get all of their now joint belongings into the small enclosure. Of course, they had learned that the mess could have been a lot worse had Cheo not “distracted” the randy monger a number of times throughout the night – yes, Dalis and Margreet were truly mates in every sense of the word.