by Ivy Barrett
Chapter Two
“You don’t look pleased, little sister.” Korbin waited until Corry met his gaze before he smiled.
“They’re everything I expected, and yet they’re not.”
They sat across from each other at the small round table in Corry’s apartment. Spacious quarters had been assigned to Korbin with his promotion to superintendent six months before. He’d been thrilled by the luxury until he realized every room was equipped with continual surveillance. The warden assured him the practice was mandated by the coalition for all administrators and was meant entirely for his protection. He hadn’t argued with the policy, he just started spending more time in the cramped box Corry called home.
“Have you interviewed all three of our guests?” he asked carefully.
“Yes. Palmer is either completely uninterested in the coalition at large or a consummate actor. He never hesitated to answer any of my questions. He just had nothing important to say.”
“Try again tomorrow. See if his answers change. What about the blonde? Did she cooperate?”
“Ms. Tiptonn seemed disgusted and fascinated by me.” Corry made a derisive sound in the back of her throat. “She’s a spoiled rich girl to the roots of her enhanced hair. She has perfect posture, a body men dream about and permanent cosmetics.”
Korbin smiled as Corry’s tone went from confounded to downright jealous. “Beyond beauty secrets, did Ms. Tiptonn have anything interesting to share?”
“She knew more about the workings of the coalition than Palmer but nothing we don’t already know. I interrogated her for several hours and she never wavered.”
“What about VinDerley?” She hesitated a bit too long and Korbin shook his head. “Got to you, did he?”
“He’s arrogant and completely remorseless.”
“He’s the premier’s son. What did you expect? He’s been groomed from the cradle to step up once his father steps down.”
Corry sighed. “If the coalition knows about the transportation unit, so does VinDerley.”
“I don’t think their knowledge, or lack of it, is crucial to our plans,” he reminded her with a bland sort of criticism. She was still looking for a means of negotiation, a peaceful resolution to the conflict.
“If they haven’t managed to reproduce Father’s prototype, it gives us something to barter.”
“We have the hostages. We don’t need anything else.”
She shook her head, clearly frustrated by his attitude. “The hostages are only an incentive for as long as we hold them. If we use this opportunity to prove to the coalition that we’re equal—”
“I don’t want equality,” he insisted. “I never have. I want out from underneath the coalition’s control. I want the freedom to shape my own future.”
“You have that now. We need to be accepted—”
“No,” he interrupted sharply. “I don’t want to belong to their society. I don’t want to dance at their soirées. I’m not fighting for acceptance and neither are the others. You need to get over your fascination with Halley Prime.” Cupping her chin, Korbin turned her head until their gazes locked. “Father is dead because of them. Your mother abandoned you for a chance to be part of their world. How can you feel anything but contempt?”
“Father died believing this conflict could be resolved without destroying the coalition.” She twisted away from his grasp. “I will not let his death be in vain.”
Korbin shook his head. “Father died because he tried to resolve this conflict without destroying the coalition. The time for diplomacy is past. Whether you like it or not, this is a revolution!”
* * * * *
Major Meredith Caperelli squared her shoulders, straightened the jacket of her formal uniform, and took a deep breath. She’d been escorted to the council chambers door and told to enter when she was ready. Ready was a relative term.
She’d been assigned to numerous missions that risked life and limb. She excelled in situations that left other officers trembling with fear. Yet a command appearance before the Comet Coalition’s executive council made her feel like a young recruit again.
“This is foolish.” She stepped in front of the body scanner and waited as her identity and clearance were confirmed. The door slid open and Meredith walked into the room, her stride confident and calm.
“Thank you for coming so quickly, Major Caperelli,” Admiral Tiptonn greeted her. He was the only member of the executive council Meredith had previously met.
She responded with a smart salute and crossed to stand directly in front of the council’s high table.
“Please have a seat. This might take awhile.” The admiral motioned toward the seat to her left.
Meredith sat as Admiral Tiptonn introduced the others. Premier VinDerley was a strikingly handsome man with a full head of silvery hair and dark eyes. Chief Justice Boehme sat on his left. She was perhaps ten years younger than the two men, but her regal bearing bespoke her position of power.
Meredith’s astute gaze returned to the admiral. She had always thought him too pretty to head the Comet Coalition’s armed forces, with his tawny hair and clear gray eyes. But his skill and ingenuity were unparalleled. She would obey his commands without question.
“I asked for you personally, Major Caperelli, because you are especially suited to the situation at hand.”
“How so, Admiral Tiptonn?” She kept her voice even, respectful without sounding overly eager.
Premier VinDerley cut in. “Major Caperelli, you must understand the very delicate nature of the information we are about to disclose. Confidentiality is of the utmost importance.”
“I understand.” This was getting more interesting with each word they spoke. Tension rippled through the room in a tangible wave. What was this about?
“A small band of rebels have kidnapped our children,” Admiral Tiptonn explained.
A faint gasp escaped Meredith despite her efforts to contain it.
“They disappeared within minutes of each other, so the abductions were obviously premeditated. For the past three days we have tried in vain to determine their whereabouts.” The premier cleared his throat and continued. “We just received word from the kidnappers that confirms our worst suspicions.”
Meredith had a hundred questions, but years of training had taught her the usefulness of listening.
“They’ve not, as yet, made specific demands. Their message listed their points of contention but didn’t spell out their terms.”
“Do we know who they are, Sir?”
“They refer to themselves in the plural. ‘We’ are unhappy with… It is unacceptable to ‘us’ that… And so forth. But the message was closed with a single name. We think it might be an acronym, but they didn’t explain the meaning.”
“You said I was uniquely qualified to handle this situation, Sir. What did you mean?”
“You excel in covert operations. You have proven to be extremely discreet. The Comet Coalition has always refused to negotiate with terrorists, and we cannot afford to compromise that position.”
“So, this operation is completely unofficial?”
“Exactly,” the admiral confirmed.
“How was the kidnapping accomplished? When and where did it take place?”
“Palmer was taken from his dorm room on d’Arrest the same night Danette and Ashton disappeared from a gala.”
“Disappeared?” She detected a certain significance in the word. “There were no witnesses? No apparent struggle?”
“That’s correct,” Admiral Tiptonn muttered. “They just disappeared into thin air. No one saw or heard anything.”
“May I see the message?”
He opened a file folder on the table in front of him and produced a single sheet of paper. Meredith took it from him and quickly scanned the rambling contents before her gaze focused on the intricate symbol at the bottom of the page.
“NëvouS.” Her heart lodged in her throat. Did they know? Was this a test of her allegiance?
“Who is NëvouS? Do you know what that symbol signifies?” Admiral Tiptonn asked, his sharp gray eyes searching her features.
“Perhaps.” She swallowed and scooted to the edge of her chair. “Within certain circles, my stepson Korbin Reah is known as NëvouS. He has used this avatar since he was old enough to activate an access terminal. I’m not supposed to know these things, of course, but Korbin is not quite as clever as he believes.”
“Your stepson is one of the rebels?” Chief Justice Boehme was clearly upset by the prospect.
“Korbin Reah is on our list of suspects,” Admiral Tiptonn reminded her. “We had no idea this man was your son.”
“I was married to his father. Does this disqualify me from the mission?”
“Only if you insist,” the premier said. “I think it’s a wonderful stroke of luck.”
* * * * *
Korbin knew he was being a fool, but he couldn’t stay away. After transmitting his message to the executive council through an untraceable series of relays, he’d found himself at the door to the control booth. He stood there for a long time, reminding himself of all the reasons he couldn’t interact with Danette Tiptonn.
But the memory of her lather-slicked body haunted him. Her soft cries of passion echoed endlessly through his mind. He hadn’t instructed her to touch herself. She’d taunted him with the display, challenging him—summoning him.
Pleasure Master Nine was happy to oblige. Korbin entered the booth. Larz sat in one of the two chairs. The control panel on his forearm emitted music as he watched the displays.
“Any activity?” Korbin slipped into the chair beside the younger man.
“Nope. It seems our guests are used to a more leisurely timetable than Borrelly requires. They’re both still sleeping.”
“Take a break. It’s bound to be a long, boring day.”
“Sure, boss.” Larz stood and started toward the door. “I’m really sorry about the other night. It won’t happen again.”
Korbin managed a stiff nod. At least one of them had learned their lesson.
“Did you send the message?”
“Yes, but this one just confirms what we’ve done. Later this afternoon I’ll transmit our demands.”
Larz nodded. “See you in a few.”
Korbin focused immediately on Danette’s sleeping image. Why couldn’t he banish her from his thoughts? It wasn’t for lack of trying. With the negotiations underway, it was only a matter of time before the council responded and she was whisked back to Halley Prime. His pampered princess would be locked in her ivory tower, inaccessible to someone like him.
The thought twisted around Korbin like a massive snake, stealing his breath and tightening his chest. He might never see her again. Why was that possibility so painful? It was irrational. He hardly knew her. No, he didn’t know her at all. But the need to get to know her burned through him like slow-moving lava.
Desire fueled his determination and Korbin turned his attention to the control console. Larz wouldn’t be gone long. Korbin had to hurry. Programming carefully selected segments of the video record into a randomly changing loop, Korbin constructed the illusion needed to assure their privacy.
The door to the control booth opened and Larz strolled in. “Anything interesting?” The younger man slipped back into his chair as Korbin stood.
“The college boy has been sort of restless, but the princess is sleeping like a baby.”
“Damn, she’s hot,” Larz whispered.
“Look. Don’t touch. And don’t talk to her again.” Amused by his own hypocrisy, Korbin smiled. “I’ll check back with you later.”
“No hurry. I can babysit with the best of them.” Larz fingered the control band on his wrist and accessed his music files.
Korbin slipped from the booth and headed down the corridor. His heart beat faster with each step. He’d just talk to her, find out who trained her. Why did she seem so familiar? He’d spent four years at the Pleasure Palace, but his interaction with the clientele had been minimal. He’d been hired to train other Masters, to teach a variety of techniques and approaches to sensual power exchange.
Maybe he could… Heat surged through his body, mocking his nonchalance. He’d do a whole lot more than talk if she gave the slightest indication she was agreeable. As if the scene in the shower wasn’t invitation enough?
Slipping soundlessly into the holding cell, Korbin waited for his eyes to adjust to the dimness. He could barely make out her shape on the bed, but even this was too risky. He crept across the room then deactivated the lights with a Borrellian voice command.
Chapter Three
Startled from her sleep by a foreign phrase, Danette opened her eyes to darkness. “What the… Hello?”
Silence.
Oh shit, what now? Three days of monotonous boredom had lulled her into a sense of security. “Why did you turn off the lights?” She huddled on the bed, blinking in a futile effort to focus through the darkness. The Pleasure Master had used the dark to motivate her. Had he finally returned? A violent shiver sped down her spine. “This is suffocating.”
“If you see my face, I’ll have to kill you. I thought you’d prefer the dark.”
His deep, faintly accented voice came from right beside the bed. Danette gasped and scrambled into the corner. His warm hand grasped her ankle and pulled her away from the wall. She screamed.
“The room is sealed. No one can hear you. Calm down.”
“What… What do you want?” She twisted, trying to dislodge his hand.
“I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to talk.”
She laughed. “Pleasure Masters don’t talk, they command.”
“Well, I’m commanding you to talk to me.” He skimmed his hands up her body until he found her shoulders. He didn’t cup her mound or fondle her breasts. It didn’t make sense. Why was he here if he didn’t mean to fuck her?
“Lie back. The darkness is less disorienting if you lie still.”
“Are the others… Can they hear us?”
“No one can hear us. Just relax.” Applying gentle pressure, he guided her down. “That’s better.”
Danette trembled. His hands were warm and strong. Awareness pulsed between them, awakening long-neglected desire. She closed her eyes, wishing she could see him. “What have you done with Palmer and Ashton?”
“They’re safe, for now.”
That voice. She knew that voice, knew she’d encountered this man at the Pleasure Palace, but couldn’t quite pinpoint his identity. “Why should I trust you?” She started to sit again, but his hands remained firm on her shoulders. If she struggled, would he understand? Would he climb on top of her and hold her down? Would he kiss her into silence and… She was being ridiculous. He was here for information not sex.
“You can believe me or not, it makes no difference.” He squeezed her shoulders and stroked her neck.
She arched away from his light caress but kept her arms at her sides. It didn’t matter if he was a Pleasure Master. He was obviously one of the rebels. And that fact was the only one that mattered.
“Why did you touch yourself in the shower? You did so long before I told you to.”
Swallowing with difficulty, Danette debated what to say. “You said you couldn’t touch me, so I… Isn’t that want you wanted? A hostage is supposed to cooperate with their captor. That’s what keeps them alive long enough to be rescued.”
“Don’t you mean ransomed? How are you going to be rescued when no one knows where you are?”
She wanted to laugh. Would it shock him to know she didn’t want to be rescued? She was just as much a prisoner on Halley Prime as she was in this holding cell. Her father planned her days and scrutinized her every movement, making sure she never did anything inappropriate again.
It didn’t seem to matter where she was; she was destined to be an isolated captive.
“How much are you asking for me?” she whispered.
“How much are you worth?”<
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“To my father? Everything.”
“And to your Master?”
Was this a trick? Was he recording their conversation? Had he recorded her wanton behavior in the shower? Her father already considered her a perverted whore. He felt it his parental obligation to save her from herself.
“I no longer have a Master,” she admitted in a pain-filled whisper.
She’d spent the first nineteen years of her life in her father’s shadow. Men either avoided her entirely or tripped over each other trying to impress her father by wooing her. But they had no real interest in the person they romanced. She was Admiral Tiptonn’s daughter, their ticket to promotion and long-term success.
“Did he dismiss you from his service or did you ask to be released?”
Pain spiked through her at his casual question. If he only knew! “Why do you care? Who are you?” Her voice barely a whisper, she confessed, “Your voice is so familiar. I know we’ve met before.”
He was silent for a long time. If it weren’t for his hands on her shoulders, she would have thought he’d left the room. She searched her memory, frantically trying to connect his voice with a face, an incident.
It came back to her in a startling rush. The sensual curve of his lips and the shimmer of his emerald gaze visible through the eye holes in his mask. This was Paul’s teacher. Pleasure Master Nine! Did he remember her? It had been so long ago. A slow heated pulse expanded within her, intensifying until she bit her lip to keep from groaning. He wasn’t just a Master, he taught the others, trained the trainers. Danette could scarcely breathe.
“Where did you receive your training?”
“We both know where we met and why people go there.”
He stroked the side of her face, tracing her full lower lip with his thumb. “How old are you?” His voice was hushed, speculative. “I don’t see how we could have been there at the same time.”
“I was nineteen when my training began.”
Sorrow choked her. Paul. Her heart cried out his name. Even after three and a half years she mourned his loss. She missed his easy smile and flashing eyes. But even more than the man himself, she longed for the security of his aggressive embrace and the unbridled passion she’d only known as his willing slave.