Wind Demon Triology: Book II: Evil Wind

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  "'By you—by yours, the evil eye,—by yours, the slanderous tongue',” Raven snipped.

  "I'll pull your plug, Raven!” Caitlin vowed.

  "'No more—no more upon thy verdant slopes!'” the ‘bot rattled off, shaking its cumbersome head.

  "You'd best believe not, Raven!” Caitlin flung at the retreating A.I.U.

  "'Nevermore.’”

  Khiershon laughed. He'd programmed the ‘bot with the words of a famous Terran poet and it seemed to irritate Caitlin no end.

  "Khier?” McGregor demanded. “Did you hear what I said?"

  "Aye, Iyan, I heard you. I'm on my way."

  Caitlin watched her husband fling aside the covers and walk naked to the closet to retrieve his uniform. She liked to watch the play of muscles on his brawny body and never grew tired of ogling him. He shunned underwear and was stepping into the sleek tight black leather britches that fit him so lovingly.

  "Don't be calling Raven a voyeur, wench,” the Reaper threw over his shoulder. “My cheeks are burning from the heat of your stare."

  "Which set of cheeks, milord?” she asked innocently, folding the sheet down from her lush breasts.

  "Stop teasing,” he warned as he plucked a black silk shirt from among the many that hung in his wardrobe.

  Caitlin lifted her arms and stretched, her bare nipples rising in invitation. “I don't know what you mean,” she said with a yawn.

  He was flying through the air and landing on her before she could scramble away, his powerful body pressing her into the mattress, his hands on her breasts, and his mouth at the tempting hollow of her throat. “Stay right here until I return, wench,” he ordered. “I won't be long."

  Caitlin lowered her arms and ran her hands through his thick dark brown hair, anchoring his head to her throat as he licked at her flesh, moving lower to claim one rosy nipple before he released her and got up from the bunk. She sighed as he began tucking his shirt into his britches. “I like you naked beneath the sheets with me, Reaper,” she said.

  "No more so than I like being there, wench,” he retorted, sitting on the edge of the bunk to pull on his boots, “but duty calls."

  "No, McGregor calls,” Caitlin said with a snort.

  "Same thing,” he reminded her and was out the door before she could tell him goodbye.

  Walking down the corridor to the elevator that would take him up to the DarkWind's bridge, Khiershon passed two of the Terran women who had been members of the ship's crew when it had been a Terran medivac ship called the Orion. He nodded to the women.

  "How's Cait this morning?” Pat Rasey inquired.

  "Satiated beyond her wildest dreams, Pitty Pat,” he said smugly and continued on his way. He could feel the women staring after him and grinned. He liked annoying Cait's friends almost as much as he enjoyed aggravating his own.

  Iyan was pacing in front of the command chair when Khiershon took the bridge.

  "Captain on the bridge!” Dakim Hesar, the Com Officer, called out simply because he knew it irritated the Reaper.

  "Everyone at ease save Hesar!” Khiershon muttered. He felt a niggling worry crawling down his spine and flexed his shoulders. “What's going on, Iyan?"

  "She took the gods-be-damned StarRaider,” Iyan snapped. “Her and a crew of sixty Serenian and Oceanian women warrioresses with nothing better to do than to drive a sane man to drink! Imagine what she's doing to me!"

  Khiershon frowned. “Who?"

  "That Amazeen virago of yours!” Iyan told him. “She loaded the cruiser down with laser pulse cannons and left Corinth two days after we did! We just picked up her signal and believe me when I say I could throttle that woman!"

  Groaning, Khiershon dropped down into the captain's command chair. “Where the fuck is she now?” His worry was growing in leaps and bounds and it was an unease that disturbed him greatly.

  "At last report sitting somewhere near Ionary in a face off with an Amazeen LRC.” At Khiershon's grimace, Iyan nodded. “Aye and with weapons primed and locked on target."

  "The stupid little bitch,” Khiershon cursed. “How far away are we?"

  "Not close enough to intervene before she engages in full all out combat with the LRC,” Iyan complained.

  "We need that StarRaider,” Khiershon stated. “It's the only vessel we have that has enough power and equipment to get us to Terra once we have my bloodkin in tow."

  "The Orion got us to Montyne Vex,” Marti Holloway, the Terran who had been an engineer on the Orion and was now co-engineer along with Nyndham Dax of the DarkWind said. “It can get us back to Terra."

  "Not with the amount of crew we'll have on board by then,” Dax disagreed. “We'll need more E.S.U.s and containment cells."

  "And the DarkWind is not as quick as the StarRaider nor does it have as much firepower,” Khiershon put in.

  "Aye, well, there's that,” Marti acknowledged.

  "I told Raphaella to stay in Corinth,” Khiershon grumbled. “Why the hell didn't she listen to me?"

  "I imagine she calls herself protecting you,” Iyan replied.

  "She's more apt to get herself and her crew killed,” Khiershon complained.

  "And the StarRaider blown to bits or so disabled it will be worthless to us,” Iyan added.

  "What do you want to do?” Sinjin Wynth, the navigator asked.

  "We're four days away from Rysalia Prime,” Iyan reminded Khiershon. “If we go to Raphie's aid, we run the risk of not being where we need to be when your bloodkin are brought out for execution. If we don't lock on to them as soon as they are out of the Titaness, we can kiss their asses goodbye."

  "We'll have one chance and one chance only so we've got to time it just right,” Wynth declared.

  "Aye, I know,” Khiershon said. He plowed a hand through his hair. “What's happening with the StarRaider?"

  "Still sitting there,” Hesar reported. “They're carrying on a conversation and...” His eyebrows shot up. “She's powering down her weapons."

  "Is the bitch surrendering?” Iyan hissed. He reached up to tug two handfuls of his hair. “By the gods, she can't be giving the Amazeen my gods-be-damned StarRaider!"

  "Can you patch in their communications to our vid-com?” Khiershon queried, glancing at Iyan. “Stop pulling your hair out, McGregor. You don't have all that much to begin with."

  Hesar's fingers sped over the keyboard and Raphaella's voice came over the vid-com loud and clear:

  ".. I am merely the mate of Khiershon Cree and it was I who set him free!"

  Iyan turned a horrified face to the Reaper and saw a dark red stain spreading over Cree's complexion. “Who the hell is she bragging to?” McGregor gasped.

  "Open a channel to her, Bryan,” Khiershon said between clenched teeth. “Now!"

  Despite all Bryan could do, any transmission between the DarkWind and Raphaella's ship could not be linked. “She's got a block on all incoming messages,” Bryan reported.

  "What about the other ship?” Iyan barked. “Do we have any idea who's in charge of it? Whose ship is it anyway?"

  "The Alluvia,” Hesar answered, tapping into the Intergalactic Registration data bank. “An Amazeen LRC registered to a Captain Thalia Chakai. I'm doing a scan of the vessel and finding ten women and two males, one of which is a werebeast."

  "A male onboard an Amazeen vessel?” Dax questioned.

  "He is their prisoner,” Iyan said.

  "Aye and I'll wager he's a Reaper, too,” Khiershon said, cursing beneath his breath. “Sajin, perhaps?"

  "So what do we do?” Iyan asked.

  "We can't leave him on that ship if he's a Reaper, can we?” Hesar inquired.

  "I don't see any way around it. Let's just hope he isn't being tortured,” Iyan said and saw Khiershon flinch.

  "I'm not getting any psychic signals that that is happening. If they are taking him to Rysalia Prime, we'll have to be prepared to extract him along with the rest of my bloodkin when the time comes,” Khiershon said then shrugged. “Just keep an
eye on them and if anything changes, let me know."

  "She was definitely bragging to Chakai,” Iyan said. “Do you think the Amazeen could be a friend?"

  "Raphie doesn't have any women friends,” Khiershon replied. “It's a strange situation all the way around but we're not close enough to get involved."

  "And shouldn't give ourselves away,” Hesar put in.

  "I hope to the heavens Raphie hasn't lessened our chances of rescuing your kin,” Iyan said. “If she has, I'll strangle the wench myself!"

  "She's not crazy enough to tell Chakai what she's planning or that we're on our way to Rysalia Prime,” Khiershon said.

  "Aye, but Chakai and every Amazeen alive knows you're somewhere out here and she'll put two and two together and realize Raphaella is either going to your aid or backing you up,” Iyan suggested.

  "Is our firewall still reporting what we want it to?” Khiershon asked.

  "Every living thing on this vessel is being defined as female,” Cathy Atherton, the systems tech, spoke up. “No way will anyone be able to scan male presences on the DarkWind. So if the Alluvia passes its scanners over us, we'll show up as an all-female crew. The block is engaged on all sound emanating from our vessel so no one can pick up our conversations."

  "Raphaella blocked incoming transmissions but didn't have sense enough to block outgoing. For that alone she needs her ass whipped!” Iyan growled.

  "We shouldn't have anything to worry about for now,” Khiershon said. “I've other pressing matters to see to. Keep me informed."

  "What other matters?” Iyan questioned, but his friend and commander was already strolling away, waving a dismissive hand over his shoulder.

  * * * *

  Caitlin was getting bored lying in the bunk and had decided to get up and get dressed when she heard Raven mumbling out in the living area.

  "’ ‘Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door'."

  "Who is it, Raven?” she asked, throwing the covers aside.

  "'Come to me, by all means, my dear good friend',” the ‘bot called out.

  Cait heard Khiershon's voice as his boots hit the floor and she smiled. She listened and realized he was shutting down the ‘bot. That could mean only one thing. She stretched out on the bunk on her side—one arm crooked over her bare chest—and awaited her lover.

  His eyes were gleaming when he came into the sleeping chamber. He stood in the doorway and heat began building in his eyes as he stared at her.

  "You turned off the ‘bot,” she said in a low whisper.

  "Aye,” he said and his hands went to the buttons of his black silk shirt. “I want no interference."

  "Interference with what, milord?” she said in a husky voice.

  "Your ravishment, wench,” he replied. “I need to lose myself in you even more after than visit to the bridge."

  The last button came undone and he spread the silk garment, tugging it free of his bitches, giving her a view of the hairy expanse of his heavily-muscled chest with the livid red tattoo on the left pectoral. As he worked loose the buttons at his wrists, he held her gaze captured in the dark amber glint of his.

  "What was so important Iyan had to have you visit him this morning?” Caitlin asked, sweeping her tongue over her suddenly dry lips.

  "Nothing out of the ordinary. Just Raphaella slipping in deep foig,” he said and peeled the shirt from his body.

  At the mention of her rival, Caitlin's lips pursed. “What did she do now?"

  His hands were on the black jet studs that held together the fly of his uniform britches. “Nothing she can't handle,” he said then added beneath his breath, “I hope."

  "What did she do?” Caitlin repeated with exasperation.

  "She took the StarRaider and came after us,” he said, spreading his fly open and pushing the tight britches down his lean hips.

  "Even after you told her to stay where you left her?” Caitlin asked.

  "She thinks she's protecting me."

  "She thinks you still belong to her,” Caitlin grumbled.

  "Apparently so,” he said, remembering the words he'd heard her saying to the Amazeen captain.

  "We need to disabuse her of that notion, Reaper,” Caitlin snapped. “You need to disabuse her of the notion or she'll continue to be a problem."

  Khiershon sighed as he stepped out of his pants. “I'll have a talk with her."

  "And I'll be there to add my two cents worth,” she announced. “Is she following us?"

  "She's sitting in the middle of the galaxy with an Amazeen LRC in front of her, calmly conversing as though nothing of import was happening in our world,” he grumbled.

  Caitlin's eyebrows shot up. “She's talking with other Amazeens? I thought she was persona non grata to them."

  "As best we can tell, there is no animosity between her ship and theirs. Raphie powered down her weapons and is just chatting away like nothing unusual is happening. And there's a Reaper aboard that Amazeen vessel,” he said then flung out a hand.

  "Oh, Khiershon, no!” Caitlin said. “What are you going to...?"

  "I can't deal with that right now,” her lover snarled. “I can't sit here and think a bloodkin of mine is being tortured. There's nothing I can do about it, but I will rescue him as soon as we get to Rysalia Prime. That I swear!"

  Tossing his britches beside his shirt, he padded over to the bunk and stood staring down at his wife, a muscle working in his tight jaw.

  "I need you, wench,” he said. “By the gods, I need you desperately right now. I need to lose myself in you."

  Caitlin knew he wanted to be distracted, to get his mind off whatever might be happening to one of his own that he could neither prevent nor stop. It was Khier's way. She smiled and opened her arms. “I am here, milord."

  He turned his head to one side as he gazed at her.

  "'For in his heart, as in thy stream,

  Her image deeply lies

  His heart which trembles at the beam

  Of her soul-searching eyes',” he quoted.

  "From which of his poems did that come?” she asked, her heart thudding at the love blazing from his gaze.

  "To the River,” he replied.

  "Poe wrote some good stuff,” she said.

  "Aye, that he did,” Khiershon said and dipped his knee to the over-sized bunk. Facing her, he propped his head on his closed fist and let his gaze wander over her shapely form.

  "What would Iyan say if he knew you'd come back to bed?” she asked softly, reaching out to smooth a lock of thick brown hair from over his forehead.

  "He'd be pissed,” Khiershon admitted.

  "And that you planned to ravage your lady?"

  "He'd be doubly pissed,” the Reaper said with a laugh.

  She leaned over him, pushing him to his back, her hand trailing slowly and gently over his broad chest. “What if your lady was the one doing the ravaging, milord?"

  "He'd be shocked to know I'd allow such a thing at a time like this and be amazed that I could enjoy being ravished while I'm worried sick."

  "Umm,” she said and slid her lips beguilingly over his, claiming his mouth as was her right. She slipped her tongue between his firm lips, tasted him, and then grinned. “Let's shock the hell out of Iyan McGregor, then."

  The Reaper's arms enclosed her, holding her to him as she thrust that sweet piece of flesh into his mouth once more. His body quivered as she withdrew her tongue and flicked its tip to first one corner then the other of his mouth.

  "What would he say...” she began as she planted kisses on his cheek, his chin, and then down his neck, “...if your lady were to keep you abed all day and use you for her base intentions?"

  "There's no telling what he'd say,” Khiershon said, his words coming huskily as her lips closed on the Suprasternal notch at the base of his throat. She suckled the pulse that throbbed there and her actions set his staff to echoing the rhythm.

  She trailed her fingers down his bare arm from shoulder to elbow and back and ag
ain, feeling the goose bumps popping up on his flesh. She was lying atop him, one leg crooked over his left thigh, her lower body resting between his legs.

  Khiershon closed his eyes as she slid further down him, her lips blazing lightning soft kisses on his pectorals and down his sternum. She had reached up to take one manly pap between her thumb and middle finger and was gently rolling the hard little nub.

  "You are a witch, Caitlin Cree,” he whispered.

  "I am a woman in need of pleasuring her man,” she said, closing her mouth around his nipple.

  He let his arms fall away from her as she suckled him. Trills of pleasure were undulating through his body. He closed his eyes and gave in to the erotic sensations flowing through him. When her fingernail grazed his navel, he drew in a harsh breath.

  "Like that?” she whispered.

  "I am at your mercy, wench. Do whatever you want with me,” he said. His eyes clouded. “Make me forget for awhile."

  Caitlin spiraled her tongue down his side and into the deep concavity of his belly. He was lying there like a sacrifice, a victim to her ministrations, his hands to either side of his head. She slid her hands to his hips, gripping him and scooted lower on the bunk.

  Khiershon drew in a ragged breath and his hands moved down to her hair, clamping her head as she plied his willing flesh. He was trembling beneath the sweet ecstasy of lips, a fiery pool of desire flooding his loins. His hands roamed over her head, stroked her hair, pushed it back from her forehead. His breathing grew ragged, his heart pumping faster with each gentle tug of her lips. He stood it for as long as he could then grabbed her upper arms and pulled her up his body, turned them both over so that he was lying atop her, his knees pushing her thighs apart.

  "What would McGregor say?” she whispered.

  "The hell with McGregor and his prudish thoughts,” her Reaper proclaimed. He slanted his mouth across hers and claimed her in a heady kiss that took her breath away. His hand went to the juncture of his legs and he slid unerringly into her warm sheath, lifting her rump so he could thrust deeper with lengthening strokes that had her fingernails digging into his back.

  Caitlin lifted her legs and locked them around her husband's hips, anchoring him to her as he plunged into her heated wetness. She could feel the building pressure flooding into her lower body and arched her hips to meet his thrusts. He filled her, touched the very core of her, and when she climaxed, the peel of her release was lost in the sweet cavity of his mouth, his tongue dueling with hers.