House of Moons 3: The Slave

by Kara Fey

  “Never could compete, Mara.” Zira’s voice brought them back to earth, pulled Tobiath out of the heat and comfort of his link to Kamara.

  Kamara turned and ran to her cousin. “You all right?”

  “I’ll live. Get me off this wall.”

  Trystan walked to her and silently unlocked her wrists from the black metal links above her head. If Zira’s eyes had been daggers, Trystan would be bleeding. Badly. As soon as she was free, she stepped around Trystan and squeezed Kamara with all her might. “I’m not going back to Anthea.” Zira stared into Kamara’s eyes and Tobiath felt something pass between the two women, an understanding of pain, betrayal, of a soul colored by experience and unable to return to the old ways. A slow burning rage simmered within Zira, bubbled up thick and hot, like melted steel.

  A wave of unease hit him through his link with Kamara and another powerful surge of magic rocked the marble halls. Zira was gone, vanished into thin air. Tobiath watched pain and resignation shine from Kamara’s gaze.

  “Where did she go?”

  Kamara shook her head, tears in her eyes. “I don’t know. That’s one of her gifts. She can travel through space from one point to another. Unless you have a blood bond, she’s impossible to track.”

  Tobiath held out his hand to Kamara and she wrapped her arms around him, buried her face in his shoulder, and continued, “She was never this powerful before. She couldn’t travel long distances, or underground. The bond to Trystan must’ve made her stronger.”

  She was shaking. The small trembling made him want to kill Bental Slarin again. And again. “Don’t worry, Mara. I’ll find her for you.”

  “No.” Trystan looked grim, blood dripping from a cut over his right eye. He stared at the spot where Zira had vanished. “This is my fault. I’ll find her.”

  Tobiath studied the face so like his own. But for a roll of the dice, he’d have been his father’s slave, and Trystan the Sentinal. In that, Tobiath knew he’d been the lucky one. He recognized determination in the square set of Trystan’s shoulders, resignation and regret burning in his brother’s eyes. Trystan cared, all right. More than he wanted to admit.

  Tobiath tightened his arms around Kamara and spoke to his brother. “After you get your love life straightened out, find us. I’d like to get to know my brother, learn more of my mother and your lives here.”

  A lingering sadness filled Trystan’s eyes, and envy, as his gaze traced Tobiath’s arms where they wrapped around Kamara. “I will find you, Tobiath.” Trystan’s smile held a hint of self-mockery. “And I’ll bring Zira home. You have my word.”

  Kamara pulled from his embrace until she could look at Trystan. “Don’t torture yourself with promises you can’t keep, Trystan. Just see that she’s happy, wherever she is.”

  Trystan nodded his head in acknowledgement and walked from the room.

  Chapter Ten

  “Are you sure about this, Mara?” Tobiath’s hand hovered over a tiny little blue button that would alter her life, and his, forever. They were back on his ship, snuggled up together in her new favorite chair, the captain’s chair. She tried to keep her mind on the business at hand, on the message she’d written and recorded over the last several hours. It cleared Tobiath’s name, let her family know that Zira was alive and well… somewhere, and abdicated the throne to her older half-brother Padraic. His bonded mate was heir to the throne of the Moon Warriors. It was the perfect solution to reuniting their two worlds. And if Padraic ever got his hands on her, he’d probably kick her ass. She grinned at the thought.

  “Would you stop asking?” Kamara wanted to laugh, and cry. The decision would affect billions of lives. She hoped for the better. Snuggling into his bare chest, she rested her head on his shoulder. “Do you want to rule Anthea?”

  “Hell, no.”

  “Neither do I.” Several moons of living on the slaver station had soured her view of the pampered palace life she’d once led. “I have to destroy Tantra-9, Tobiath. I can’t allow the slave trade to continue. Not when we have the power to stop it.”

  “We can blow up the station without even breaking a sweat, Mara. But destroying the station isn’t going to stop the trade.” Kamara sighed in contentment. Tobiath knew, would always know, what she meant.

  He absently stroked her hair with his fingers, comforting her. Their bond was so intense since the Binding, she could literally feel what he was feeling, know what he was thinking, could send him her thoughts even though he did not possess the gift of telepathy.

  “I know. But it’s a start. I want to hunt those responsible. I want to take out the biggest traders, destroy their ships. Steal their money. That should at least slow it down.”

  “All right. I’m game. You know I’ve always hated that place. Perhaps even more than you do.”

  “Then send the message and let’s go to bed.” Kamara lifted her face, nuzzled the side of his neck. He smelled too good, too real, like passion and power and lazy days spent in bed making love. Alone on his ship once more, Kamara had stripped the offensive white slave garment from her body and borrowed one of his shirts. Sitting in his arms, wrapped up in one of his black uniforms, she felt like she was truly and finally home. He lowered his head to kiss her, but stopped halfway to her mouth. The look in his eyes made it perfectly clear he was remembering the last time they’d shared this chair.

  Suddenly too hot to sit still, she wiggled free enough to pull her borrowed shirt off over her head. The shirt had barely covered her ass, and she had nothing on underneath.

  “This isn’t bed, Mara.” Tobiath sent her message with a decisive punch of a button, then lifted and repositioned her so she straddled him in the chair. Bending her back over until she hit the control panel, he lowered his mouth to her breast.

  “That a problem?” She wiggled her ass against the stiff black uniform fabric covering his erection and buried her hands in his hair.

  “No.” He traced the edge of her taut nipple with the tip of his tongue. When the skin was wet and aching, he blew and his breath felt like a cool autumn breeze. Her nipples got harder. Tighter.

  “Tobiath!” Already she was soaking wet, ready. Needing him. The seam of his pants rubbed her clit, hard and unforgiving. With a moan of delight, she spread her legs wider and wiggled until the seam split her folds so she could rub her clit against the hard edge.

  “Yes?” He moaned against her breast, then trailed fire across her chest kissing his way to her other nipple.

  “Get rid of your clothes.” The hard muscles of his arms intrigued her with their power and gentleness. She kneaded the muscles with her hands, depended on his strength for leverage as she continued to rock against him.

  He sucked a taut peak into his mouth, flicked his tongue. Bit softly. Over and over. “I’m busy.”

  She laughed. She couldn’t help it. Laughing felt so damn good she never wanted to stop again. Raising her arms over her head, she offered her body to him like a pagan sacrifice. Leg muscles flexed, she lifted her hips off his lap so she could have exactly what she wanted. One word was uppermost in her mind. She gathered the magic and visualized her need, focused her will on one word. “Vanish.”

  Two syllables and Tobiath was naked beneath her. Rough and impatient, his hands grabbed her by the waist and pulled her open cunt atop his hard cock. Closing her eyes in bliss, she slid down onto him, slowly. Slowly. Stretching.

  Kamara squeezed her inner muscles, intensified the sensation of being invaded until the head of his cock burst past the barrier, and slammed home against her cervix. A spiral of sweet pain and lust made her cry out for more.

  Tobiath slid his hands to her hips, fingers dug into her flesh. He lifted and pulled her down, impaled her again in one hard, fast move. She lost the ability to think. His hands moved over her back, caressed the skin, slid lower to squeeze and spread her cheeks apart. Her cunt muscles jolted awake at the sensation, pulled his cock deeper, rippled up and down his cock in hot, wet demand.

  “God, Mara. Yo
u’re going to kill me.” Tobiath whispered the words against her neck. His teeth nipped at her shoulder, at her collarbone, at the delicate curve of her neck. A hint of whiskers rasped the sensitive skin, made her shiver and her cunt clench.

  Kamara left one hand in his hair, the silken strands clenched in her fist, her only anchor to reality. She slid her left hand between their bodies, wedged her fingers between his stomach and her clit, shoved her hips toward him, trapped fingers tapping the nerves of her clit into a frenzy.

  Tobiath held her still, pressed down over his cock, thrust his hips up. The taut muscles of his abdomen drove her fingers harder against her sensitive clit. Again. Kamara let her head fall until her forehead rested against the top of his shoulder. The faintest hint of cologne lingered here, mixed with his skin, his sweat, and filled her nostrils with hot, hard man. Her breasts were crushed against his chest.

  Riding him, spread over him, she ground her mons into him in a faster rhythm, wanted him to move more, to take command and pound into her as hard and fast as he could.

  Finally, finally he lifted her and pulled her back down over his cock. He pulled her buttocks apart and slid the tip of one finger up inside to tease her ass. The slight intrusion, the extra sensation of invasion blew all thoughts from her mind, turned her into an animal acting on instinct. Hand still between their bodies, she clenched his hair in a fist and pulled his lips to her nipple. Using her leg muscles and her hold on his head for leverage, she arched her back and spread her legs as wide as they would go, and bucked like she was riding a galloping stallion. Up. Down. She squeezed her clit. Released it. Thrust her nipple into the hot, wet cavern of his mouth and whimpered when he bit it, as it sent a bolt of lightning to her core.

  Kamara couldn’t stop moving. Wanted it harder. Faster. Tobiath’s fingertip wiggled with every plunge of her hips, pulled her anus up and back, tightened her cunt around his massive cock until she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t feel anything but his mouth, his finger, and his cock ramming deep.

  The first ripple of orgasm tore his name from her lips in a voice she didn’t recognize as her own. A blast of love and lust, of blinding need slammed into her through their link, and her whole body tightened in response. Her cunt muscles clenched then released in endless waves that spread to every muscle in her body until her entire being exploded in an orgasm so intense she screamed and Tobiath followed her over the edge.

  Minutes passed, and she was too lethargic and sated to move from his embrace. Face pressed into his shoulder, Tobiath’s arms wrapped solidly around her, Kamara inhaled his musky scent, the scent of their sex, and let the aroma bathe her soul in contentment. She worshipped his body, shared his heart and soul, and gifted him with magic. Love pulsed through their veins, their soul link, in a hot cadence that brought one word to Kamara’s mind in a steady, repeating rhythm… mine… mine… mine…

  A smile pressed her cheek into the muscles of his chest. She was a princess, after all, and everyone knew a princess always got exactly what she wanted.

  The End

  Kara Fey

  Kara started writing at the tender age of eleven, and was never smart enough to stop. Now she battles the craft of writing like it’s an addiction, an obsession, or a psychiatric/chemical imbalance. (It’s probably all three.) She especially believes this when all her characters are running around in her head demanding their stories be told. There’s probably a medical term for that…

  Kara can’t stand wimpy heroes and heroines, so her characters are strong willed, intelligent people who aren’t afraid to take chances. We all need a little taste of that kind of courage and fantasy in life. Her one wish is that readers will enjoy her stories! Visit Kara’s website at www.KaraFey.com.