Dark Empress: The Onic Empire, Book 5

by Anitra Lynn McLeod

  Wary suspicion replaced the smug triumph that normally lurked in Errion’s gaze after a rousing fuck. As Lorren drew him close and kissed him, he wondered how he would ever find a balance between Errion and Farjika.

  Chapter Five

  Mollified somewhat by Lorren’s surrender in the carriage on the way home, which was why he’d insisted on the slower form of transportation, Errion still couldn’t shake a feeling of impending doom. What had he been thinking? That they would stay bachelors and live together forever? Frankly, he’d never given the nebulous future much thought. Still, it wouldn’t be easy for Lorren to walk away. Their lives were almost inextricably entwined. Everything they owned, they owned together. The manor, the manufacturing plant, the multitudes of property and resource plats—all of it they jointly possessed. No, Errion consoled himself, Lorren wouldn’t be walking away anytime soon, not unless he literally walked away from everything.

  Errion’s heart clutched.

  Wrapping his arms more snugly around Lorren, he pulled him closer, loving the smell of his body in the dark, the way his rough body hair tingled his own relatively hairless flesh. Normally they slept apart, but he’d agreed to stay with him tonight, probably because Lorren felt sorry for him, but Errion didn’t care. He’d take a pity snuggle right now. Sadly, having him close wasn’t helping him sleep at all.

  What made everything even crazier was that when Errion had kissed Lorren and tasted Farjika on his lips, he’d been shocked to discover that the taste of her aroused him. Furious, Errion had tried to push the thoughts away, but he’d been unable to. He did not want to lust after that woman. Not when she would take his best friend away, and not when Lorren clearly considered her his and his alone. Besides, she hadn’t looked twice at him after the horrible first impression he’d made. Farjika was out of his reach and he knew it.

  Still, he’d pulled her image into his tryst with Lorren tonight, using her to arouse not only Lorren but himself as well, because he could see her atop Lorren, with Lorren’s massive prick buried between her caramel legs as Errion drove himself deep into Lorren’s tight ass. Her fanny would plush around Lorren’s hips, her waist looking impossibly small from the back. Errion saw himself grasping her waist and using her as leverage to slam into Lorren. When he pictured her lifting her hands above her head, offering up her large breasts to Lorren’s willing mouth, Errion had climaxed in a great gushing tide.

  Just thinking of her now brought his erection back to life. Rolling away from Lorren, he fumbled in the nightstand and traced his fingers over the prize he’d claimed earlier. So silky soft, the crimson panties practically melted under his fingertips. Errion couldn’t explain why he’d taken them, only that he’d seen them on the study floor after Lorren and Farjika had departed. He’d grabbed them and stuffed them into his pocket almost absently, almost as absently as he’d slipped the tube of slicker in there before he and Lorren had left the manor for the charity ball.

  Lorren loved to tease him that he never left home without a small tube of their top-drawer slicker. Errion always defended himself with the fact that he never knew when some wild ride would come his way. Being prepared was prudent. Anal sex without lubrication was a dismal affair indeed. In addition, the smartly designed tube held a condom, another prudent necessity for a fleeting tryst. Only with each other did they dispense with such an essential.

  As Errion fingered the panties, he wondered if Lorren would have taken Farjika without protection. Lost in lust, he might have been so overwhelmed he would have simply forgotten. But then again, perhaps not. Lorren had been emphatic about savoring her slowly. Errion had called her a slut and intimated that she willingly spread for her guards, but in his heart, he knew that wasn’t true. She was as Lorren said: practically a virgin, which only made her even more appealing. Farjika was moldable where a more experienced woman would be fairly set in her ways. What thoroughly captured Errion’s attention was thinking about all the innumerable ways that he could mold her.

  Usually, as soon as Errion captured the gaze of someone, he could read deep into their soul and uncover their hidden lusts. Sometimes the person was unaware of their most longed for fantasy. Instinctual fear had held him back from looking deeply into Farjika’s unusual gaze. What had initially unnerved him was that her black eyes were filled with crystal green shards that matched the color of his eyes. Disconcerting. So much so that he hadn’t been able to look beyond the surface.

  While Lorren had showered, Errion had done a quick study on Diola, learning a bit about their Harvest ceremony. If all she’d ever known was the touch of the Harvester, she was basically an untouched lover, because all the Harvester did was penetrate a woman once, claiming her virginity. It was a curious ritual, one that inadvertently aroused him when he saw himself as the Harvester. Shirtless and shaved, he could visualize a panoply of virgins spread out in a row waiting for his straining prick. He was less aroused when he realized neither he nor the women would feel anything at all. Both parties were smeared with estal oil, a substance native to Diola that deadened any tactile sensation. Giving her virginity wasn’t about love or lust, it was simply an ancient ritual.

  Errion had wanted to delve further into the curious culture of Diola, especially the blurbs about a unique erotic motion capture, but Lorren had emerged clean and sleepy, crooking his finger and pointing to the bath. Errion left his searchbot on high, then washed up quickly and joined Lorren in bed. Per usual, Lorren fell asleep within moments of his head hitting the pillow. Errion, on the other hand, ruminated for hours before sleep finally claimed him.

  When he woke, Lorren was gone, probably off for his daily bout of physical exercise.

  “He does work so diligently to maintain his physique.”

  Lazily Errion stretched, feeling a mild twinge of guilt that he did not have to work so hard to preserve his form. For a while, he stared up at the ceiling medallion, letting his gaze wander over the highly ornate plaster design of blooming flowers and intricate curlicues. Unlike Lorren’s overtly masculine room, with its heavy wooden furniture and somber colors, Errion had chosen light cream for his bedroom walls and deep hunter green carpet for his floors, and a mix of the two for his bedding. A strategically placed freestanding mirror across from the bed confirmed that the colors enhanced his blond hair and green eyes.

  Sadly, this morning, the mirror also revealed the apprehension lurking in his gaze. Determined to wipe the unwanted emotion away, Errion left his bed behind, grabbed his robe, which his robotic butler had conveniently left at the foot of his bed, then padded his way through the manor to the kitchen.

  While the cook made his breakfast, Errion read over the information gathered on his office flat. Diolan culture revolved around sex, more so than any other culture he’d ever encountered. And yet Farjika seemed so…pure. The dichotomy only intrigued him further. And then he uncovered the shocking way in which Diola had become a galactic financial powerhouse. Was Farjika’s exterior just a façade? Was she like her mother underneath? Determined to find out, Errion made his plans. By tonight, if he were right, his worries would be over.

  Errion had spent the entire day planning for Farjika’s arrival, setting everything just so. But as soon as Errion entered the foyer, he knew he was in trouble. Farjika stood there, a crimson garment painted on, her breasts artfully displayed by the crisscross of fabric that crafted the strapless bodice of her gravity-defying dress. Clinging cloth wrapped around her narrow waist, flared at her hips, then a skillfully pleated skirt flowed down her seemingly endless legs. Fathoms of fabric buried her from the hip down, but when he looked at her, all he wondered was if she wore panties or not. Fragile little panties like the pair Lorren had ripped from her last night. Sweet-scented panties like the ones he’d stolen and had hidden in his nightstand drawer. If he could go to the source of her wicked scent, he could die a happy man.

  “Welcome Farjika, daughter of the Crimson House and future heir to the throne of Diola.” Errion bowed deeply, hoping he’d mastere
d the exact inflection of her native language. Using the obscuring lengths of his disheveled hair, he watched her face. When her eyes widened and a genuine smile lifted her lips, he knew he’d succeeded.

  Returning his bow, Farjika said, “You honor me greatly, Errion Ald’Areed.”

  She impressed him with proper pronunciation. Rarely did offworlders hit the exacting nature of his demanding name, yet Farjika did so with a seemingly effortless ease.

  For a moment, he stood nonplussed, as he couldn’t take her wrap as she had none, and there was no point in introducing her to the robotic butler who rolled away in his determination to fix drinks. He was saved when the closed door behind her opened a crack.

  Farjika turned.

  Errion’s mouth fell open.

  Her hair was swept up into a complicated pattern that reminded him of knotted rope. The back of her dress plunged into a V with the point on the area right above the split of her generous bottom. Below Errion’s loose fitting trousers, his cock rose, pressing forward with a vulgar display of lust. Never had his arousal embarrassed him, but with her, he was mortified that the smallest exposure of bare flesh had this astounding effect on him. To hide his shame, he pulled the edges of his long jacket closed, effectively covering his erection.

  Farjika spoke quickly and softly to someone, then determinedly closed the door. She faced Errion, chagrined.

  “Gabriyel, the captain of my guards,” she explained, lowering her face but lifting her gaze. “He informs me they have the manor surrounded.” As if she realized how awful that sounded, she quickly added, “They will not come inside, not unless I call for them.” Face flushing pink below her caramel skin, Farjika murmured, “I don’t think I will need them this night.” Her gaze met his with a delightful combination of lust and innocence.

  “No, my lovely one, I do not think you will need them tonight.” Errion proffered his arm, and she looped hers through, placing her hand against his, the heat of her palm only aggravating the problem in his pants.

  “I confess, Master Ald’Areed, that I thought you did not like me.” Her voice was soft yet filled with confusion. “Last night at the charitable event, you seemed to think me an ignorant barsita.”

  “Barsita?” he asked, deliberately drawing her closer, taking a breath of her exotic scent as he felt the soft plush of her breast against his upper arm. Whatever the ingredients of her perfume, they were unknown to him. Intriguing. Errion oversaw the perfume aspect of their business and yet Farjika embodied a plethora of scents he couldn’t name yet longed to sample.

  After a brief pause, she translated, “One from another world.”

  Errion nodded politely. “You may be from another world, but you are hardly ignorant.”

  Confusion collided her brows, adding depth to her striking face. No makeup, no surgery, no nothing but her own self did she present. No wonder Lorren was enamored of her. Unlike the women of Avalith, Farjika was naturally beguiling. She refused to place a bid for perfection according to the predetermined fashions. Errion wouldn’t be surprised if by her visit she changed the trend to darker skin and richer fabric tones.

  “Tell me, my lovely one, what do you hope to accomplish here on Avalith?” Errion knew the question was a light one. Any visitor would have a stock answer ready to spew out to satisfy any who asked, yet Farjika actually considered his question.

  Lifting her gaze to capture his, she softly informed him, “My world is isolated. We have been so for many hundreds of thousands of seasons. I hope by coming here, to Avalith, and donating a large portion of funds, to show the galactic community that we are concerned with our brethren. That we wish to break free from our self-imposed seclusion.”

  Errion wanted to capture her mouth, cutting off her words long before she could finish speaking them. Not only was she utterly lovely, but she was kind and sweet. Worse, she had a conscience. She wasn’t just repeating words she’d been told to say, she honestly believed in what she said. Red flashes of warning went off behind his eyes. This woman was dangerous. Farjika truly could sway Lorren from any path he might be on, and she could do it without much effort. Farjika was a woman who could steal a man’s soul without intention. Raylor’s bursting balls, but she’d effortlessly stolen Errion’s attention and yet seemed utterly unaware!

  As he drew her into the main room, her gaze slid around, appreciating the paintings, sculptures, rugs and the furniture. She finally settled her gaze on Errion. “I am impressed by your estate. You clearly have a unique turn toward art.”

  He nodded, offering her a drink, which she cupped lightly in her hand.

  “How long will you stay on Avalith?”

  She took a sip to give herself time to think of her answer, and he realized she honestly didn’t know. Her hesitation worried him. His gut told him her stay depended on what happened with Lorren.

  “I find I am intrigued by your planet. I would like to stay and learn more about your culture even after my official visit has come to a close.”

  As she spoke, he noticed she kept taking surreptitious glances at one sculpture in particular. He had to work hard to suppress a lusty grin.

  “Where are you staying?” Casually, he maneuvered himself across the room until he was standing near the life-sized rendering of an intricately bound woman. Between her parted legs, a man thrust deeply into her. The woman’s head was bowed in submission; however, her face was still visible as her hair was drawn away. The man’s head was flung back in ecstasy, his lips peeling away from his teeth with an artfully captured snarl of possession.

  “I am staying in my skip.” When he tilted his head, she offered, “A small planet-safe ship while my larger spacecraft remains in orbit.” She took another sip of her drink that turned into more of a gulp when she drew her gaze away from him and the erotic rendering. “Master D’Buren graciously offered one of his fallow fields to station the craft.”

  “Lorren’s father is always so generous with visiting dignitaries.” Usually so he could finagle an exclusive marketing contract for his robotic servants. Wouldn’t he be surprised when he realized Diola had no desire for mechanization? “Is something wrong?”

  Darting her gaze to the entwined figures, then away, she whispered, “Are all of your statues so explicit?”

  Errion laughed.

  Her head stayed low as her gazed traveled up. She seemed unsure if he were laughing at her or at what she’d said.

  “Explicit?” He chuckled as he slapped his hand to the man’s muscular ass. “He’s fucking her as she wishes.”

  Eyes widening at the vulgarity, Farjika cupped the fragile glass, which trembled in her hand. He could tell she struggled with the idea of whether she should say something or not. In the end, her curiosity got the better of her. Darting her gaze around to ensure they were alone, she asked, “If she wants him, then why is she bound?”

  The woman’s arms were artfully tied behind her back, and she used them to leverage herself up. Her legs embraced the man who had his head back in the throes of release.

  Lowering his gaze, pinning her where she stood, Errion murmured, “She is bound because she finds pleasure in giving control to the man.” Softly, he asked, “Haven’t you ever let a lover tie you up?”

  Farjika’s gaze met his, her pupils dilating. In that moment, he saw the hunger in her eyes. A dark hunger for something that Lorren would never give her but Errion could.

  Before she could answer, he deftly removed his jacket, tossing it casually on a nearby chair. “I would think a future empress would be well schooled in the art of lust.” He turned, giving her an excellent view of his bulging trousers. Pleasure rippled across his tense muscles when she looked down then quickly away. Slowly and deliberately, he looked at her chest, making sure she saw him looking. He noticed her nipples pressed tightly against the fabric, twin bits of tightened flesh. “I understand that on Diola, sex is practically your religion.”

  “That is not true.” She frowned at what he’d said. Her displeasure deepened w
hen she noticed the way he was looking at her. Setting her drink upon the closest table, she said, “Sadly, many seem to think that it is, but I assure you—”

  “How did it feel when he slid his tongue into you?”

  Caught off guard by the question, she sputtered in shock, then turned her gaze around the room again. “Where is Lorren?”

  Running his finger down the rope that bound the woman’s breasts, he murmured, “He’s a little tied up at the moment.”

  He could tell that Farjika was trying to determine if he were being literal or not.

  “I think I should go.” Her skirt flared around her legs as she spun toward the door.

  “Without a word to Lorren? That’s hardly courteous behavior,” he scoffed, continuing to stroke the rope that trailed down the woman’s torso. The metal felt cool below the heat of his hand. “Especially after all the trouble he went to for you.”

  She stopped in midstride, apparently thinking over what she should do. He’d hit his mark well; she did not wish to appear ungracious or rude, not to the object of her affection.

  Frankly, he didn’t mind getting another look at the back of her dress and her hair, which was startlingly similar to the rope on the statue. Farjika would look exquisite bound, and binding would only heighten her awareness of her body. Already he could picture how he would drape the silk rope around her frame using various lengths of crimson cord that would highlight the color of her skin. Deliberately, he would place the knots to give her the greatest pleasure. To have her bound and at his mercy was such a heady prospect, he couldn’t stop thinking of the ways he could pose her. Of course, if he acted on his cravings, Lorren would kill him.

  “Lorren will join us shortly.” Errion had carefully arranged the evening so that he would have a chance to be alone with Farjika. He tossed off his drink and set the empty aside. Crossing the parlor, his bare feet silent on the thick carpet, he moved until he was standing right behind her.