Dark Empress: The Onic Empire, Book 5

by Anitra Lynn McLeod

  “I will always love you.”

  “Farjika, please don’t do this.”

  “You are my chosen.”

  That catapulted her father to his feet. Drahka’s heavy footsteps vibrated the floor below her knees, setting them to trembling.

  “You kneel before a disgraced slave and call him your chosen?” Drahka grasped her shoulder, lifting her up, forcing her to face him. He seemed to know that whatever power she possessed she would not turn on him. And he was right. Despite his harshness, he was still her father. Everything he’d said and done had been for her safety. Her father loved her beyond reason. She’d hurt him with her disobedience and seemingly careless disregard.

  “I kneel to the father of my child.”

  Drahka’s face turned pale as his eyes drifted to her belly. He shook his head as if he could make the truth evaporate by the sheer force of his will. Regaining his fury, he grasped her shoulders. “You could not know. It is too soon.” Realizing he was hurting her with his grip, he loosened his fingers, but he refused to let go.

  A wave of dizziness made her clasp her father’s forearms. Muscles like stones met her fingertips, shocking her with their unrelenting power. She could steal his energy, but she didn’t. The idea of possibly bonding to her father was repulsive and terrifying. Pushing him away, she stood on her own, fighting against the nausea that threatened to topple her.

  “I do know as surely as I know Gabriyel is my chosen.” Farjika used that word deliberately because it was her father’s word. Only he used that term to describe Bithia. “I can feel him.” She placed her hand low on her belly. “He gave me the strength to stop the abuse of his father.”

  Unable to stay upright, she collapsed, but Gabriyel caught her, gently lowering her to the floor. In a flash, Errion and Lorren were there too, following the mentally blasted orders of Gabriyel.

  “Here.” Lorren wrenched off his jacket, wadded it up and slipped it below her head. His scent enveloped her as the fine fabric cushioned her from the floor.

  Errion slipped his jacket over her upper body, cradling her in warmth and his familiar essence. “You shouldn’t be wearing these in your condition.” With certainty, he slipped off her shoes, tossing them aside.

  Gabriyel cupped her chin, his gaze examining her face, his will pushing into her body to assess the damage.

  “Always the captain,” she murmured, letting him take charge.

  Drahka blinked slowly, as if time had wrapped him up in thick strands. “Send for the royal physician.”

  Farjika looked up, her gaze capturing her father’s fear but also his rather hesitant pride that every one of her supposed abusers had rushed to her side. Heedless of any repercussions, they united and worked together to comfort and care for her.

  Sensing that he would only impede their movements, her father stepped back. Bithia, Drahka and Viltori stood near, their pensive faces floating in and out of her hazy awareness. Gabriyel, Lorren and Errion placed their hands on her, filling her up with their energy.

  “You drained yourself shoving Roland.” Gabriyel loomed above her, his face a curious combination of reprimand and satisfaction. “I have never seen so many burly men so terrified of one young woman.” His gaze swept the guards encircling the room. “I think every one of them was shocked and jealous when you knelt before one of their own.” He leaned forward. “You gave every man hope.”

  “Hope for what?”

  “That a woman like you isn’t out of their grasp.” Gabriyel kissed her, his lips cold and firm, but they warmed and softened as the kiss deepened. He could have shared his strength with her without contact, but this made the flow of energy smoother and was so much more pleasurable. “I love you, my lady.”

  “I love you, my hero.”

  Errion and Lorren didn’t pull away, but they sensed the change and knew her decision before she told them. When her gaze lighted on Errion, he nodded with understanding, but Lorren frowned.

  “I want to bond to all of you in a spectacular ceremony that would rival that of my namesake, Farjika the Dark, but I can’t.”

  “Why?” Lorren asked.

  “As the future empress, I’m allowed one bonding ceremony. I can’t claim you and Errion until you’ve completed your punishment.”

  “Then wait and bond to us all.”

  “By claiming Gabriyel now, I can protect him, but then I would only be able to claim you and Errion as consorts, not bondmates.” She glanced up at Lorren. “There really is no difference in status; it’s just wording.”

  “If you don’t claim Gabriyel now?”

  Errion nudged Lorren hard. “If she doesn’t, I doubt he’ll live very long.”

  Farjika nodded. “He won’t be officially executed, but...”

  “Someone will make sure I’m dealt with,” Gabriyel supplied. “I am a slave after all.”

  “And bonding to you will give him magical protection?” Lorren asked.

  “He will be my bondmate and consort. To attack him would be to attack the throne itself. Not a soul would dare to commit treason, not after what happened to the man who did so against my mother.”

  The execution of Ambo Votny was over twenty seasons ago, but people still spoke in hushed terms about his death.

  As disappointed as Lorren was, he also realized the necessity of her choice.

  As the three of them helped her to her feet, relief washed down her parents’ faces. The hugs she’d been hoping for materialized as all her parents’ arms enfolded her at once. Rather than feeling smothered by their love as she so often did, she felt embraced by it, so filled with the power of love she knew she glowed.

  Chapter Thirty

  Gabriyel was naked again. Bathed, oiled and so hard his cock quivered, he stood on a dais encircled by crimson fabric. Beyond the drape, he heard what sounded like an audience of thousands. His palms were sweaty, and his skin prickled with awareness. When the fabric fell, pooling all around him, his focus narrowed to the only thing that mattered.

  Nude and slick with oil, Farjika stood before him. Her caramel skin glowed softly golden while her eyes danced with joy. In spite of the fact that they’d seen each other naked, they both cast their gazes up and down the other. Gabriyel hoped she found his body as pleasing as he found hers. High beautiful breasts peaked by dark brown nipples, followed by the tiniest waist, then flaring out around wide, grabable hips. Sleek but strong thighs, dimpled knees and powerful calves capped off by surprisingly sexy feet. His gaze returned to her face, his appreciation mirrored in her eyes. The way she looked at him made him feel powerful and strong, like a god among men. He wanted to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, but he refrained. If this were only a dream, he would see it through to the end and appreciate every moment.

  “It’s not a dream.” Farjika’s voice filled his mind as her essence touched his soul.

  The magistrate, Menon Levotch, clad in white with an enormous fur hat upon his head, approached the edge of the raised platform. He spoke in the ancient tongue, some of which Gabriyel understood, but the specifics didn’t matter. All he needed to know was what the result of this ceremony would bring.

  Finished with the invocation, Menon pointed.

  Willingly, Gabriyel knelt before Farjika. Peering up her smooth belly, he had to bend over a bit to place a reverent kiss upon her hairless mound. When his lips touched her oil-warmed skin, his heart skipped a beat. Joy unlike any he’d ever known filled him along with staggering lust. Her musky scent filled his lungs, the luscious perfume making his already hard cock even harder. He wanted to push her thighs apart and lick the source of that compelling fragrance.

  “I would like that too. However, we have the rest of the ceremony to get through.” Farjika traced her finger across his lips, then slipped it below his chin. “Rise.”

  Gabriyel stood. Towering over her, he waited breathlessly for Menon to finish another lengthy speech. When he did, he handed Farjika a gem-encrusted vial. Delicately, she removed the cap, poured
a liquid into the palm of her hand, and then handed the small bottle back.

  She gave a short speech using the ancient language, all the while smoothing her hands together, which caused the liquid to sparkle. Holding his gaze with the power of hers, she cupped her hands around his cock.

  An explosion of heat and longing caused him to rock back on his heels. Something squeezed all the breath out of his lungs and forced all the blood in his body to fill his penis. Throbbing and huge, his prick became his entire world. If he did not find way to contain the ever-expanding flesh of his shaft, he would explode in a cascade of frustration.

  Farjika turned away, then bent at the waist, offering him her slick sex—the perfect sheath for his cock.

  Into his powerful hands, he took her hips as he bent his knees, aligning himself. With a mighty shove, he thrust into her, filling her in one great plunge. Hot, slick and so wickedly tight, her cunt enveloped his cock. He thought he might die from the pleasure of feeling her wrapped around him. Gabriyel clung to her, marveling at how her inner muscles convulsed around his shaft. Never did he think anything would top the intensity of plunging into her as she dangled helplessly from the ceiling, but this was so far beyond that he couldn’t even begin to compare.

  Farjika’s breath whooshed out when he possessed her, her arms going wide to keep her balance.

  “You’re not going anywhere, my lady.” Gabriyel lifted his hands up from her hips to her breasts. Rough fingertips felt every texture of her nipples despite his calluses. He pulled her close until her back pressed against his chest, her oiled flesh sliding against him. Crossing one arm over her shoulders and the other over her hips, he lifted her off the dais, thrusting the rest of his cock into her.

  Emitting a cry of blissful satisfaction, she clung to his arms, helping him hold her up for his bouncing thrusts. A desire to plunge fast and furious into her was swept away by a deeper need to prolong this moment. Her body writhed seductively against his, her plush bottom rippling with each thrust. When she turned her head, he captured her lips with his and kissed her with a hunger he’d never felt before. A terrible all-consuming hunger that only she could satisfy.

  Reaching back, she held his face, deepening the kiss, her need tumbling through his mind in bursts of incomprehensible phrases. But he already knew. She needed what he needed. Lowering her feet back to the surface of the platform, he released her from his crossed arms. Bending her over by sliding one hand up her back, he forced himself to hold steady until she was ready. His hand twined in her black hair as it flowed loose and still slightly damp over her shoulders. Pulling a few strands lifted her head, exposing the vulnerable length of her neck. From behind her, he could not see this, but he felt her reaction to his manipulation of her form. Together they pictured the image they made, aroused and excited by the provocative pose.

  Grasping her buttocks, he thrust so deeply into her she cried out. He would have pulled back, fearing she was in pain, but for the way she encouraged him, readying herself for the next plunge by parting her legs and gripping her feet into the textured surface of the dais. Arching her back, she placed her hands against her knees, further bracing herself.

  Again and again he rocked into her, her growling moans matching his, her muscles straining to hold her up and accept his complete domination. He had to kneel before her to show obeisance to her as the future empress, but she had to make herself vulnerable for his possession. Bent over, she was utterly at his mercy. Each plunge brought him closer to climax, each thrust smeared more of the liquid she’d placed upon his cock up to her clit. Together they rode toward completion. When the first spark filtered through, lifting his balls, Farjika clamped around him, crushing his cock like a fist, forcing him to snarl as he plunged one final time.

  Muscles tight, he poured his climax into her as she accepted with her own, her passage milking every drop from him. Bending over her, he wrapped his arms around her shuddering body and hugged her hard, needing to feel as much of her skin pressed against his as he could. Bursts of power passed between them, then settled into their spent bodies. Curious how after expending so much energy on mating he should feel remarkably energetic. He wanted nothing more than to pull her down into his arms and cuddle her until he was ready to love her again.

  Applause caused him to jump back, yanking his still-hard cock from her. The loss was profound, and he gritted his teeth not to cry. He had forgotten all about the guests. Over a hundred people lined rows of seats around the dais. Noticing them now, their glittering eyes overwhelmed him.

  Farjika spun and plastered herself against his chest, her surprise evident. “I forgot all about them.”

  “So did I.” Tented blouses and trousers caused him to blush and look away. “Why are they here?”

  “Tradition mostly, but also to ensure there is no question that our relationship was consummated.”

  “They don’t know you’re already pregnant?”

  She shrugged, her shoulders rising and falling against his chest. “I don’t care what they know. All I know is that you are now and forever my eternal bondmate and willing consort.” Tilting her head back, she met his gaze. There was so much that she wanted to say, but everything jumbled up in her mind, hitting him in a tumbling rush of emotion.

  “You don’t have to say a word. I feel exactly the same way.”

  Her smile touched him right down to his toes.

  Menon stepped forward, gave a closing speech and then bowed, presenting them as a couple.

  After a hasty acknowledgement to the packed audience, Farjika grabbed Gabriyel’s hand and pulled him from the room. Slipping out the back way, they ran through a maze of hallways, but he knew exactly where they were going. When they approached her rooms, the two men standing guard saw them coming and held the doors open. Once they rushed through, they closed the doors firmly behind them.

  Sweeping her up into his arms, Gabriyel carried her to the raised bed. “Do you know how many times I imagined myself in these sheets with you?” He settled her into the rich crimson bedclothes, reveling at the lovely contrast of her burnished skin against the astle.

  Shaking her head, she drew him down into her embrace. “Imagine no longer.”

  Locking his lips to hers, he balanced himself above her, smoothing her hair back tenderly as he touched her cheek, her chin, the stunning length of her neck, then straight down to her belly. Spanning his hand across, he felt his child within. A rush of emotions threatened to overwhelm him.

  When he pulled back from her, she smiled tentatively. “Are you all right?”

  Nodding, he lowered himself, nuzzling his face against her tummy. “Beyond everything I feel at this moment, I have a profound sense of gratitude.”

  Lazily, she ran her fingers through his hair. “We are very blessed.”

  So much had gone wrong, but they had persevered. If not for Farjika’s steadfast belief, he feared he would have given up. “I almost feel as if I still don’t deserve any of this.”

  Below him, she went taut.

  “I said almost.” Lifting his head, he peered up into her concerned face. “It’s still so new and fragile. Like a dream.” He settled back, hugging her firmly. “Trust me, I have no intention of giving anything up.” Nothing could tear him away from the love of his life and the child they’d created.

  For a while, they lay together, calm in the aftermath of the intense empress bonding ritual, but soon their thoughts turned to their companions.

  “They are blocking me.” Regardless of his best efforts, guilt leaked into his blissful calm.

  Farjika nodded. “Me too.”

  “I thought they understood.”

  “Understanding the necessity of something and accepting the consequences of it are two different things.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Lorren paced the plush carpet of his prison. Just like on the ship, they kept him confined in decadent splendor. Oddly, this room was similarly decorated in varying shades of gray. From Farjika’s mind, he g
athered the importance of color on Diola. Gray was considered neutral. The only thing he did not have was the freedom of coming and going as he pleased. Not that he would know where to go even if they turned him loose. Keen observations told him the palace was a massive structure that rivaled the dimensions of small villages on Avalith.

  Repeatedly, he felt Gabriyel and Farjika seeking a connection, but he refused. Flinging up an impenetrable mental wall, he isolated himself from them. Lorren wanted to be alone with his thoughts. Even though he knew he’d made the right decision to protect Gabriyel, sacrificing his place by Farjika’s side still devastated him.

  “Would you please stop? Your anger is giving me a headache.” Errion lifted up from the bed where he lay on his back, gazing at the painting on the ceiling above. “Come over here and help me interpret the meaning of this.”

  Lorren ignored the offer. “I don’t care about the significance of prison art.” He shot a quick glance upward. A profusion of colors irritated his eyes, drawing his attention back to the cool gray carpet.

  “I don’t think this room is a prison. Farjika told me it’s reserved for visiting dignitaries.”

  “Semantics. We’re hardly visiting dignitaries if we’re confined to our rooms.” Lorren spun on his heel, marching back the other direction. From the locked door to the table between the beds took twenty-five steps. Stomping, he marched to and fro, digging his bare feet into the amazingly lush carpet. For a moment, wondering what the fiber of the carpet was distracted him. He thought it would make for much more lifelike hair on his robots. Lorren shook off the notion, determined to hold on to his anger.

  “Because anger is so much easier to feel rather than fear.” Errion’s voice was contemplative rather than combative. “You and Farjika’s father have much in common.”

  “Shut. Up.” Clipped and concise, Lorren cautioned his lifelong companion to leave him alone, but he knew he wouldn’t. Errion had a knack for forcing him to confront his problems and not just cover them up. Lorren alternately loved and hated him for that skill.