Starlight Complete

by Astrid Cooper

  “I suppose that really gets your goat.”

  “I’ve never owned a goat.”

  “Figure of speech. It means that must really irk you. Being beholden to a mere woman.”

  “It is a new reality for me.” He tried not to smile. “But why did you save me?”

  “I don’t like to see someone outnumbered seven to one. Fair’s fair. Besides, I wanted out of that prison and the only way to achieve that, is with you.”

  “We achieve many things together.”

  “The whole is greater than the sum of its parts.”

  “A philosopher, too. Humans are an amazing species, their women even more so. I am pleased I found you.”

  “What choice did either of us have?”

  “Indeed so.” He sheathed his sword in the worn leather scabbard at his side. The hiss-slide of metal against leather made her shiver anew. “There is a cave nearby. We need shelter for the night. Come,” he said, holding out his hand.

  The dreamscape rippled and their reality altered from forest to cave. Rainbow-colored stalactites and stalagmites formed a row of columns around the cave.

  The warrior glanced about. “Tomorrow we must find my allies. I have a blood debt to repay. And you, damiselle, what do you want in return for rescuing me?”

  “My freedom.”

  He snorted. “This you already have.”

  “I want it proclaimed. I want to be free. I want…”

  “Yes?”

  “I want to go home.”

  “That is impossible. The Gate has been sealed. It will be another five years before it opens again.”

  “Why isn’t it always accessible?”

  “It takes great power from the mages to maintain the portal. We have use of the wizards for other things.”

  “So you have a small window of time in which to plunder the galaxy, then you go home and barricade yourselves in?”

  He grinned. “Something like that. We must have a respite to enjoy our spoils.”

  She snorted and then sneezed.

  “Get out of your clothes, damis… Samantha.”

  “I’m not in the mood.”

  “Neither am I.” He nodded to the steaming pool at the far side of the cave. “Your clothes are wet and I don’t want you to catch a chill. While you bathe, I’ll light a fire.”

  “There’s no wood. And besides, someone might find us. I…I don’t want—”

  “Trust me. This cave is my refuge. No one knows of it but me and now you.”

  Sam stalked to the water, kneeling at the pool’s edge, trailing her fingers in the water. It was hot, its color and texture like molasses.

  She stripped off her clothes and with a sigh settled into the warmth.

  She watched as Reamon collected rocks from the far end of the cave. Returning to the center of the chamber, he stacked them in a small heap on the ground. He knelt beside the mound and bent over it, singing words she could not understand.

  The stones began to hum. He sang harder and the stones glowed, sending a pulsing light and warmth across the cave.

  She stared at him as he stood up and walked towards her.

  “How did you do that?”

  “Magic.”

  “Yes, but…”

  “A warrior must know the words of power, Samantha. I am a Prince, so I know many incantations.” He began to unlace his jerkin and breeches.

  “You’re a wizard-warrior?”

  He chuckled. “I like that, wizard-warrior. I shall have to remember it.” He kicked off his boots and peeled off his trews, and stepped into the water, like herself, settling down with a sigh.

  “If you are a wizard, how did the warriors manage to overpower you?”

  “I was diverted by you, damiselle. By the time I realized the danger, it was too late. But you saved me. What was that thing you used on them?”

  Sam frowned, trying to remember. “A crystal lattice. An assassin taught me how to form one to screen thoughts. I used the light to break you free of their hold, just as the sword was falling. Then I put the lattice around us, and thought of escape. We arrived in the forest.”

  “If you have this power, then you must be a witch. We do not suffer a witch to live.”

  “I see, so now I am going to be killed because I’m a witch. Or maybe it is just because I’m a woman. Which crime is the worst? Woman—or witch?”

  He laughed. “Viewed through the Warrior Code, either is a damnable offense. But you saved my life and in so doing I owe you blood debt. You are free, no longer damiselle, but…”

  “But what?”

  “I do not know. In my world a woman can only be damiselle.”

  “How about a friend?”

  He inclined his head and glided through the water to stop behind her. Reaching out, he massaged her scalp, his strong fingers slipping down her neck, to her spine, easing away the tension. Yet, tension of another kind replaced the stress of the day. She wriggled.

  He lifted her onto his lap, her ass against his gut, and slipped his hands over her stomach, teasing down past her curls, into her, parting her folds, finding her nubbin. His body quivered with suppressed passion. He wanted her. She knew it in the hard length of him between her legs.

  Yet, he did not enter her. Rather he brought her to arousal with his fingers. Then his tongue lapped down her spine, while his teeth nibbled. Her fingers bit into his thighs as she writhed against him.

  “My friend likes it this way?” he purred in her ear.

  “Oh…yes.”

  “And this?” His fingers probed her, stroking, as his teeth grazed her nape.

  Then, the warrior assumed and he lifted her back onto him and slid into her, hard and fast, full length, as deep as he could go. Then retreated. Then returned. He pulled out, the friction a delicious torture against her.

  “You want more, friend-of-mine?”

  “Ah…”

  “That is good.”

  Lifting her from the pool, he carried her to the side of the rock-fire. Carefully he lay her on the ground. She felt a stack of thick furs at her back, cushioning her. The warrior had dream-imaged them for her comfort. Samantha smiled inwardly—she was finally taming the barbarian.

  He raised her legs, placing her feet on the ground, spreading her. His heated gaze made her writhe—not in fear, or embarrassment, but with desire. She wanted this warrior; might one day grow to love him.

  Kneeling between her thighs, he bent forward and blew across her woman’s flesh, stroking her clit between breaths. A finger probed. Two. His gaze held hers as he worked her clit and channel in tandem.

  He sang to her. A warrior’s song. And then the tempo changed. It was the lover’s song. Harimal’s song. She closed her eyes.

  Stars exploded behind her lids. The whisper of starfire curled over her skin, igniting.

  He entered her, a fraction at a time, his ridges engorged. He loved her gently, easing into her, retreating, the gentlest, subtlest of pleasuring of each meridian. His teasing brought her to peak. He held her at the pinnacle, building it moment by moment, holding her again and again.

  Then he slid into her, deeper than ever and remained immobile as her body convulsed around him. He sighed. They converged. The starlight touched their skin, blue-golden light flowing between them, warming, highlighting. Tiny points of light flickered over her skin, into her, swirling around her body, pulsing and igniting.

  She returned the gift and his skin glowed, the starlight engulfing them, a mantle of light, color and ecstasy…

  “Samantha!” Harimal purred.

  Comets streamed past her as he loved her, as he found those zones that no human could touch, but this time with such intensity that she lifted from her body, just for a moment, her spirit hovering… She was at once the woman in the cave, the damiselle, and Sharille-Samantha Lucas.

  Then Harimal’s song wove into her and she left the dream far behind.

  Sam gasped, opened her eyes and saw her skin glowing with gold, then a spiral of blue
and purple and silver spread out, tattooing her skin with cobwebs of shimmering light.

  Harimal smiled and sang. She joined with him, her husky voice a contrast to his silken tenor.

  “Do you like my songs?” he whispered, rubbing his cheek against hers.

  “Yes.”

  “Then let me teach you to sing them all.”

  “I don’t have a good voice.”

  “You have a timbre all your own, kitten, and it is wonderful. Sing with me, now. Please.”

  The starfire crackled between them as they sang, as their bodies moved in unison, a loving beyond convergence.

  In the quiet interlude, Sam cradled Harimal to her as he wept. He loved her, but he knew she would never truly be his. That often when he loved her, it was John she saw in her mind’s eye and John whom she felt inside her… For the mutatis was between them and her body and heart and soul belonged to John—his brother.

  With Hari’s tears, came Sam’s resolve. She would free him from this prison, no matter the cost. He curled away from her, shivering, unable to hide his pain, the torment of his felinus soul.

  She flung herself to her feet and paced the confines of the room.

  Since they had decided against rebellion, the starlord had granted them luxuries. Even clothes. More holo images. A gilded cage that had become jaded.

  “I’m tired of this. I want out of this room. Do you hear me, starlord?”

  No response.

  “Do you hear me, master?”

  “I hear, damiselle.”

  “We’ve given you convergence. How many more times must we?”

  “Forever, damiselle. The others are not as gifted as you and the felinus.”

  Sam shivered, then tossed her head. “I can give you pleasure beyond your imagining.”

  “How so, damiselle? And believe me, a starlord’s pleasuring is beyond your wildest dreams.”

  “I can give you starfire convergence with the touch of my finger.”

  “Sam!” Hari shouted, launching to his feet. “No!”

  The collar about his neck pulsed with light; he crumpled to the floor, writhing.

  “Did I give you permission to speak, felinus?” The starlord paused. “Continue, woman.”

  “There is a gift, a touch, known among only a few felinus and their mates. Places on the body, in the body, where the subtlest pressure invokes the deepest climax. It is to be experienced to be believed. Trust me.”

  “That I do not, damiselle.”

  “Afraid of me, are you, master?”

  The derisive snort of the starlord crackled over the speaker. “I fear no creature.”

  “Then let me show you.”

  “Very well.”

  “I need to touch you.”

  “No one is permitted to do so.”

  “You are afraid then?” She turned away.

  “If this is a trick, then I will take your felinus to the tenth level of pain, and tear his mind to shreds.”

  “I’m not trying to trick you. I just don’t want to live in this room anymore. I need more.”

  “What more?”

  “I can show you.” She purred, felinus-style.

  “Ah. I see. Very well.”

  The door at the far wall slid open and two humodroids stalked in. Her body clenched in disgust.

  She walked between them down the metal corridors. She passed rooms. Occasionally she caught the scent of terror and pain, or a creature near death. How many others existed within the rooms, how many others formed the starlord’s menagerie?

  The door at the end of the corridor opened and Sam was pushed forward. She halted. A wall was given over to arrays of computer screens and consoles, and connected to a monitor was the starlord, in its chair. The dreamer’s cap was on its head. She regarded the creature disdainfully. The psycho probably slept with it attached.

  The starlord’s black-slitted eyes studied her. He lifted a talon, indicating the cap on the arm of the chair.

  “I don’t need it,” Sam said. Straightening her shoulders she strode to the starlord and a black-suited figure interposed itself, arms widespread. She looked up at Andy. He smiled.

  “Samantha.”

  “Stand aside. I do not deal with minions,” she said.

  Andy’s cheeks flamed while his gaze tore at her.

  “Yes, do as the woman says and stand aside, minion.”

  Sam stared down at the starlord.

  “Well?” it demanded.

  “I have to touch your right ankle.”

  “Be assured, woman, if this is a trick…”

  “You want beyond convergence. I can give it to you.”

  “There is no such thing as beyond convergence. Convergence is the ultimate. I should know. Starlords created the shifters and their ability to converge to give us pleasure.”

  Sam snorted her disbelief and the starlord smiled, revealing his fangs.

  “Would I lie to you, human-mine?”

  “Everything about you is a lie. An evil beyond imagining.”

  “How kind you are to compliment me so! But ask your cat-boy. He knows the truth: that felinus are the sex-toys of the starlords.”

  “Your creations exceeded expectations, then, found ways even you can’t imagine to pleasure and to please. May I?” She lifted her right hand.

  “You may.”

  Sam edged closer. She stroked the creature’s skin. Hard, rippled, like shark’s skin, abrasive, it drew blood from her fingers. She carefully found the pressure point, stroked for emphasis and then pressed.

  Nothing happened. She pressed harder.

  The starlord’s breath released in one low, long hiss. The VDU screens lit up and the dreamer’s cap flickered. Minutes passed, as she kept the pressure on the starlord’s ankle point.

  “Ahh,” it gasped.

  “Had enough, babe?” Sam demanded.

  “I…have never had enough. Until now.” The starlord’s body trembled, spasmed, climaxed. Sam closed her eyes against the horror of it.

  “Do that again, woman,” the creature snapped.

  “It’s too much. The pleasure can kill.”

  “I am a starlord. I exist for pleasure. Again.”

  The starlord was insatiable. When he allowed Sam to return to her room, she had to be half carried by the humodroids. She was beyond caring, beyond revulsion that they touched her.

  They deposited her on the bed and departed.

  Harimal, sitting cross-legged on the rug in the center of the room gazed at her with narrowed eyes.

  “Proud of yourself, Samantha? Allowing that monster to go where none but a mate may take a mate?”

  “We must exist here, Harimal, no matter the cost.”

  “No matter the cost? I am disappointed in you.”

  She raised herself on her elbow. “I can’t tell you how disappointed I am to know.” She laughed. “Trust me. I’ve suffered before at the hands of another. I’ll never live like that again.”

  “Better to be the whore, then?”

  “Better not to die.”

  Harimal swore.

  “I grow tired of this dream,” the starlord said. “Produce another, or else I will imagine one more to my liking but maybe less to yours.”

  Sam shuddered, noticing the wire-thin pupils of the starlord. When his pupils narrowed like that it meant trouble. She glanced at Hari. He inclined his head in response to her silent question.

  Sam inhaled several times, each time, slowing her breath, her heart rate, lessening the panic that she felt when she and Hari had to dream-share. The dreamer’s cap pulsed at her temples and she closed her eyes.

  Again, like a veil, the dream-mists parted. She flew down through the fields and when she grew aware of herself, she found she was sitting before a small circular table, clasping a crystal ball, in a tent made of violet silk. Each wall was embroidered with silver and gold stars. At the center of each a tiny crystal glittered. As the tent walls moved with the outside breeze, the stars shimmered, and light sparkle
d.

  Instead of her usual garb, she wore a purple silk kaftan, silver symbols woven around its high neck and bell-shaped sleeves. For a moment she wondered what the symbols meant. Then, she recognized them as powerful talismans to ward off evil.

  She studied her reflection in the surface of the crystal ball. Her hair was loose and held back from her face by a woven silver brow band. The light within the ball flared and in response she felt her mind pulse. Her stomach cramped with the all too familiar moment of far-seeing.

  Outside the tent the three visitor’s bells rang.

  “Enter,” she whispered.

  The tent flap lifted and she saw a man’s silhouette, tall, so tall he had to duck his head to enter. She sensed his male power, but more disturbing, his sensuality.

  The inner curtain was carefully peeled back and she watched him enter, her heart skipping in dread fascination.

  Warrior-Hari stood there, but as she stared at him, the dream-illusion wavered. Harimal struggled against the starlord for ascendancy. The dreamscape rippled and Sam felt a spike of pain at her nape as the starlord sent a warning not to interfere. Harimal sighed in acquiescence.

  He was dressed as a warrior, but without sword, only a knife at his side and one protruding from the left boot sheath. His long black hair reached to his waist, and was tied with a black leather cord, decorated with gold rondels.

  “Damiselle,” he said.

  “What may I do for you?”

  He smiled at that. “Since you are the soothsayer, I rather thought you might already know.” He stepped forward and seated himself opposite her on the chair. It creaked ominously. It wasn’t made for a man his size.

  He sat back watching her, his grey eyes narrowed, piercing. He was measuring her as a warrior and as a man—both of which set a warning skittering along her spine.

  She swallowed hard, fighting anxiety. “You want a reading, a prophecy. Of the future campaign.”

  “Among other things.” He glanced at the crystal ball.

  She put the orb to one side and drew her cards from the velvet pouch hanging at her hip. She fanned the pyramid-shaped cards and exhaled over them. “Consider the question carefully, as you draw three cards.” She blew over the cards again and placed them face down on the table, spreading them across the purple velvet.

  He reached over, his long fingers trembling slightly. The many silver bracelets around his wrists chinked together. The service bracelets indicated a man of rank and power.