StarlightComplete

by Astrid Cooper

  “Exactly so, damiselle. It is enough that you call me master.”

  “For you, but not for me. And—” She lifted her chin. “You are not my master.”

  “I thought I had proved I was, many times.”

  “You think by bedding me you have proven lordship over me?” She smiled. “How little you know of women.”

  “I know all I need to of you, damiselle.”

  “How disappointing it must be for you.”

  “Disappointing?”

  “To bed a woman and never know her in other ways.”

  “What other way is there to know a woman?”

  “Her heart, her mind, her spirit. Her soul.”

  “You would give me these?”

  She frowned at him. “If I knew you better, if…” She shrugged.

  “If…” He shook his head. “If I said I loved you, you would fall on your knees and offer your heart and soul? I prefer your hatred. Love is for fools, for the weak. You and I are made for sex and pleasure, not love.”

  “But pleasure with love can be so much more than what you have experienced.”

  He snorted. “Prove it.”

  “You don’t love me.”

  “And if I did? If I said I loved you, all would change, because of just three words?”

  StarlightComplete

  “Just three words and the universe would change.”

  He smiled. “I love you.”

  “They’re only words to you. Love is felt. The cosmos vibrates with it.”

  “I vibrate, Samantha.” His hand rested on her knee, his fingers scrolling over her skin. “Let me love you. Let me prove to you that a warrior can be gentle, tender.”

  “You’re injured.”

  “No longer.” The dreamscape rippled and he lay before her, his body whole, beautiful, the phallus thick with desire.

  He sat up from the bed and held her face between his hands, his fingers splayed over her cheeks. He drew her face to his and kissed her, his lips pressing over hers, his tongue lightly stroking.

  She sighed. “No.”

  “How easily the lie falls from your mouth. I think you mean yes.”

  He kissed her again. His arms around her were taut, yet the hands skimming over her back were gentle, the calluses on his palms chafing her skin. She shuddered at the contradiction.

  He was a warrior, born to fight, to die, never to love, never to be tender. Yet, his touch at that moment was as tender as a man of his kind could be.

  He tugged down her camisole, his gaze feasting on her breasts. “Your skin is so pale, unlike…”

  She put her finger to his lips. “I don’t share memories of another woman in my bed.” She smiled. “I think I’ll give you a name, since you won’t divulge it.”

  “If you insist.”

  “I’ll call you Falcon.”

  “Reamon—this is what you would name me?” He laughed. “Am I a bird of prey?”

  “You are certainly a predator.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It wasn’t intended as a compliment.”

  She nudged him down onto the bed and lay across him. He clasped her hips, amusement in his eyes.

  “Damiselle, are you going to fuck me? Then remove your gown.”

  “My name is Samantha… Oh!” She closed her eyes as tears stung. My name is Samantha and I exist for you. Only for you. The memory intruded—the anguish made the dreamscape shudder.

  She tore in a ragged breath, another. The reality of the dream took her away. Reamon kissed her, a slow tease, aimed to conquer. His hand snaked between their bodies. Lower. She lifted herself from him and his fingers quested.

  He went to nudge her over.

  “No,” she said. “I want you on your back.”

  “It is not our way, damiselle.”

  “Indulge me,” she whispered. “Please.”

  “It is against the code. Warriors do not—”

  “Are you afraid?”

  He snorted. “I fear nothing, no one.”

  “Prove it.”

  “A challenge?”

  “Yep.”

  “You are a contrary woman, damiselle.”

  He peeled off the silk gown and tossed it aside. “Sit astride me, then, if this is your desire.” He lifted her over his body and drew her along his length up to his mouth, his tongue curling around her clit. At her gasp, he halted, watching her.

  “You’re a strange man, Reamon,” she whispered. “Won’t let me fuck you on your back, but you’d do this to me, no questions.”

  “Sssh,” he whispered against her heated flesh. He ruffled her curls with his breath and drew her closer, clamping his mouth over her, tongue delving. He bit gently. He lapped. He laved.

  Samantha writhed against him. She tugged at his hair, bound tightly in its warrior’s braid. “Reamon?”

  “Mm?”

  “Let me untie your hair.”

  His gaze lifted to hers. “It is forbidden.”

  “Is everything I want to do forbidden?”

  “I live by a strict warrior code, damiselle.”

  “What harm is there in my unraveling your hair?”

  “I am a warrior.”

  She sighed. “Indulge me.”

  “I indulge you too much.” He smiled. “Very well. Do your worst.”

  Laughing, she unfastened the metal queue and carefully teased out his hair, fanning it around him, lifting tendrils, to run her fingers through it. Like silk, blacker than the blackest night. She leaned forward and pressed her cheek against the crown of his head, while his mouth and tongue worked such wonders on her woman’s flesh. A fingernail scraped over her buttocks, between the crease. She gasped as he found her and then gasped again as a spiral of desire twisted through her, an ache reaching its apex at the juncture of her thighs where he lapped and tormented with teeth and nail.

  Daringly, she reached down to his erection and fisted it, pumping him slowly.

  “Aaah,” he gasped.

  In tandem, they tormented and scratched and licked and nipped.

  She lifted away from him, settling herself parallel but opposite, her knees on either side of his torso. She took his length into her mouth.

  “What are you doing?”

  She lifted her mouth away, and looked at him over her shoulder. “I thought it was obvious.”

  “No woman does this of her choice.”

  “You want me to stop?”

  “No.” He paused. “Please, do not.”

  She slapped his thigh. “Isn’t it against your code to say please to a woman?”

  “I’ve broken so many rules tonight one more is not going to matter.”

  They writhed, they sucked, they lapped, they bit, they scratched—all in unison. Where she led, he followed; where he led, she followed, they mimicked the actions of the other. Beneath her, she felt his shudders, knew he was close to climax. He controlled himself, a warrior’s training delaying the orgasm, until he felt her first ripples and he exploded. Together, they came, riding a tide, screaming release.

  The door to the chamber crashed open and seven leather-clad warriors raced into the room. Even as Reamon leapt to shield her with his body, while reaching for his sword, he was wrestled to the ground, his arms twisted behind his back, a booted foot on his cheek, pinning him to the floor.

  “You betray us, so you die.” One of the warriors raised his sword, while another warrior dragged Reamon to his knees, bending his neck for the arc of the blade. The blade fell.

  “Noooooo,” Samantha screamed.

  The world around her shimmered, darkened and when she opened her eyes she found herself pressed against a male body. It took her a few moments to orientate herself. Harimal’s scent clung to her body. He groaned.

  “Hari?”

  His eyelids fluttered and opened. Sapphire eyes sparkled with tears. She kissed him and lay over him; his arms tightened around her, his legs holding her to him.

  “Please, Hari,” she whispered.

&nb
sp; He lifted her gently and eased into her, filling her with his body. She wept into his neck and he loved her, the gentlest of loving, so she knew it was him and not another who fucked her.

  “Let me take you to Starlight. Don’t cry, Sam. Let me love you, let me make you forget. I can do this for you.”

  The image of the warrior and the falling blade flashed through her mind.

  “It was only a dream, kitten-mine. Only a dream.”

  “How can I know if this is real, or another illusion?”

  “Because of the collar. I can’t change to felinus in the real world. Let me prove it to you. Sssh. It’s okay.”

  He drew in a deep breath, marshaling his thoughts and tried to shift to cat. The collar’s needles spiked into his flesh, like tiny fangs, drawing blood. The shock and the pain washed through Sam. Again, he tried, and fell back weakly against the bed.

  Sam gently dabbed at the blood trickling down his neck. “Don’t ever do that again, Harimal. Promise me.”

  “I may not be able to keep that promise, kitten,” he whispered.

  The dreamscape rippled with the ring of steel meeting steel. A man’s voice, speaking felinus, issued a challenge. Another answered, in an unknown language. A voice guttural and menacing.

  Sam crept closer, keeping herself shielded by the fortress wall. Just beyond the perimeter of the bailey, she halted.

  Warrior-Hari, dressed in leather and chain mail was crouched, his sword held in both hands, arcing and parrying blows from a starlord. He was panting, sweating as he fought the starlord—a starlord, robust, without apparatus, except for its dreamer-cap and a broadsword.

  She wore her maiden’s dress. That’s what she called the purple and black silk garment, she was forced to wear in the fortress fantasy. The garb was unwieldy, tangling around her legs and ankles, hindering. She was naked beneath it. How often the warrior had torn the garments from her, at the starlord’s instigation, before Harimal exerted control over the dream and soothed her, teased her into an arousal before entering her, before taking her to convergence.

  The starlord demanded rape, but no matter what the creature said or did, Harimal refused. He loved her with her consent. Always.

  Steel sparked against steel as the warrior and the monster taunted one another. Though she knew this was a dream, she watched the battle, dry-mouthed. She stifled a cry as the warrior slipped on the wet cobbles, righting himself just in time to deflect the starlord’s sword. They each traded blows that in the real world would have torn flesh and bone apart.

  Injuries in the dreamscape did not travel through to real space, for which she was thankful.

  The warrior glanced at her, gaze narrowed. “I carry your favor, damiselle. Come to support me?” He angled his curved sword, parrying the starlord’s maneuver.

  A roar sounded behind her and two draconis rushed into the arena, their claws extended, fangs bared. If they could have breathed fire, Sam had no doubt they would. The warrior-Hari jumped over the tails of the draconis as they sought to intercept him.

  This time, as the starlord leapt forward, it slashed the sword, using its two hands to force the momentum. The creature must be angry about something.

  Remember your allegiance! Samantha issued to the draconis. I call upon the ancient bond, house to house. Ronsevaal to Shezzzssrr.

  Shezzzssrr, the ruling house of the draconis. Vax, the eldest draconis with whom she had played poker enroute to Chizan had told her, extending his claws, offering service. How long ago that time now seemed. How long. How far? She had lost track of the time spent in captivity.

  The draconis rounded on her, Harimal forgotten. The starlord propped himself up by his sword.

  Shezzzssrr. Shezzzssrr. The draconis chanted, then turned to their foe.

  The starlord swept his sword before their multi-clawed attack.

  Now! Harimal’s shout made the dreamscape shiver.

  Sam cast her neural web over the starlord and he fell, writhing, to the ground. The draconis advanced, claws extended and teeth snapping. Harimal strode forward, his sword raised. The neural web would hold the starlord prisoner in the dreamscape until…

  Sam screamed, found herself thrashing on the bed, Harimal beside her, weeping in agony. She was being sliced apart, a hundred knives peeling the flesh from her bones… The screams of other captives filled her ears.

  Did you really think your plan would succeed? the starlord asked, laughing. Entrap me in the dreamscape with that toy? How disappointing for me to think you so lacking in imagination. I expected more. Much more. Now, as they say, pay-back is a bitch!

  Harimal’s mind twisted until he fainted.

  Sam screamed. She knew a thousand deaths and still the starlord kept her mind to his, not allowing her the comfort of oblivion or insanity.

  I underestimated you, damiselle. I thought the felinus would attempt my destruction, but not you.

  The female is the deadlier of the species.

  Apparently so. What sport I shall have.

  Sam yanked away, mind and body, from the starlord. I hate you. I will kill you.

  Better than you have tried and failed. You are invited to try. It will make for entertainment, when I am not otherwise entertained by your screams of delight.

  You are vile.

  Thank you, I try to be so.

  Sam pitched forward on her knees, breathing hard and fast. This new torment she could endure. Will endure. Kuno…your name is Kuno, you exist for me, only for me. My name is Samantha, I exist for you, only for you. Now. Forever.

  She retreated into that place Kuno had given her, the place once filled with his love, his soul, the starfire passion. She barricaded her consciousness within it and the starlord drew back.

  Interesting. Unexpected. He beat at the lattice. Time and again Sam thwarted his attack. Of every life I have encountered, you, damiselle, have only ever resisted me. But I will find a way to touch you, even there.

  Go to hell.

  Hell, oh I hope so, because there I’ll have good company. I’ll leave you to your hollow victory. Enjoy it—for the moment.

  Gasping, as weak as a newborn, Sam reached out to Hari, taking his mind to hers, forming the lattice around him, layer by layer, as Taren had trained her.

  The pressure of the starlord’s attack intensified, then vanished. Breathing a sigh of relief, she closed her eyes.

  Sam watched the slow rise and fall of Hari’s chest. His smile was fleeting, gentle. She stroked his head, trailing her fingers over his hair, lifting strands: blue-black, with gold and violet highlights. She watched his profile, her breath catching in her throat, his beauty hurting her eyes.

  His mind and body lay open to her gaze. By now, she knew every contour.

  She touched his consciousness, following a path of golden light. She heard him singing. It was the opera he had been composing, the one he had begun to teach her. The love song of the stars… She listened, entranced.

  Then she saw him in his felinus shape—the great black cat with the glowing sapphire eyes. He ran from her.

  Hari, wait!

  The cat led her deeper, to another place that rippled with hurt and regrets. A dark place. Loneliness tore into her.

  For a moment she thought it was her own until she heard the felinus soul weeping for another.

  Alone. So alone. Never One. Hari’s mind parted and Sam tried to draw away, afraid that she was intruding. Harimal’s spirit touched her, holding her gently. She glimpsed what no one had…

  Ah yes, I can have any woman in the galaxy. Offering me what they think is love, but in truth it is only their bodies… No, I shall not! I am Harimal san-duran!

  He pretended conquests and liaisons, but in reality there had been few. Because those who sought him wanted him for the felinus loving, for the pleasuring, true love was never offered. Never for the man. Never that. And he sought a love. A mate.

  His was a desperate longing, a desperate search. She exists, I know she does. If only I can find her. If only…


  The felinus soul wept.

  Sam stroked his hair. So, this was Harimal, the true Hari…the cat who played and roamed and sought love and fled from the sex because he yearned for more. What he wanted was beyond words, beyond understanding, except for a felinus.

  Harimal yearned for a mate, for his heart, his mind, his body, his soul.

  She had found one such and lost him.

  Who was the worse off?

  The one who had known and lost the love, or the one who had never known what it was to have the soul-touch? The Schahor?

  She would see Harimal with that love one day. But to do that, somehow, she must escape this prison.

  Sam stroked his temple and his eyelids flickered. His sapphire eyes studied her. He smiled.

  Sam ran a finger over his lips. “Go back to sleep, Hari.”

  “Can’t when you touch me like that, kitten,” he whispered.

  She lifted the chain from her neck and slipped it over his head. “I want you to have this. It’s—”

  “I know what it is. Sam, you don’t just give star crystals away. They have sentience and are used to protect our world and to do…other things, you—”

  “I want you to have it.” She teased the crystal across his nipple. “When John and I had mutatis, the planet gifted us with many crystals. This one your father gave me. It is right you should have it.”

  He studied her, frowning. “Samantha…”

  “The crystal is yours!” She pressed her palm against the gem, imprisoning it against Hari’s chest. “Yours.” Her fingers slipped over his wrist, signing, Love. You. Trust. You.

  “And now,” the starlord’s voice interrupted, “I demand another dream. Begin at once.”

  The forest canopy stretched as far as the eye could see. The rain barely penetrated the branches, but the air was cold and damp. Samantha shivered, huddled against a gigantic moss-covered tree trunk. Her silk gown was torn, but even whole, it would offer no protection from the elements.

  She tried to image a thick woolen cloak around herself, but failed. She was so cold and tired.

  Stealthy footsteps approached and warrior-Hari emerged from the gloom, his sword drawn.

  “Damiselle?” he whispered.