Terran Realm Vol 1-6

by Dee, Bonnie

  Where had that thought come from? He took a deep breath. “Get hold of yourself, Jamie. You can’t appear too excited or Arven will make you wait just to torture you.”

  He shook his head to get rid of that traitorous thought. Arven only did things because he knew just what Jamie wanted. Anticipation sweetened the experience. At least, that’s what Arven said. And he was always right.

  Still, he could hardly contain his feverish desire to surprise Arven with the pleasure of listening to a great artist. Perhaps he’d even sponsor her? Bring her here to the mansion so he could hear her perform again in person. There was nothing to compare with that.

  He glanced at his watch and frowned. It was late. Very late. Too late to bother Arven with Viv’s music. In fact, later than he’d ever come back before. He hoped Arven hadn’t worried.

  His days had been spent lately with his finding and hiring agents all over the world to be in place when Arven’s great plan for mankind occurred. He had hardly seen him since Arven increased his responsibility and placed so much trust on his shoulders. James missed their times together. Missed the spontaneous lovemaking that Arven and he engaged in. He shuddered. All that pain that Arven insisted upon. How could he hurt him? He’d rather cut himself than cut Arven … and he had. Slashed his arms. Worn a cock ring a size too small. Burnt his chest with the strong cigarettes Arven preferred.

  But when Arven had approved of his actions and soothed his wounds and fucked him again and again, it had all been worth it. Even taking the Foley bitch into their bed and hurting her and fucking her had been worth it. Just to hear Arven call him, “dear boy.” How he missed that.

  Arven was spending more and more time with that Foley woman. He caught her once, immediately after she had come from her “chamber of delights” as she called that room fitted out with whips and chains. Blood coated her body and transformed her corset to a crimson suit of armor. She was licking her fingers. Licking the gory stains.

  The next moment Arven appeared behind her and he, too, was drenched in blood. He had grabbed the woman around the waist, dragged her against him and bit her breast. He hung onto her tit even as Lorraine writhed and bucked against him. When Arven finally released her, the wound stood out in deep, red clarity. Blood oozed from some of the teeth impressions.

  But what made him weep was that Arven hadn’t called upon him to join them. He hadn’t needed him. James wanted Arven to need him as much as he needed him.

  He opened the connecting door to the house, shut it quietly behind him, slipped off his shoes, tiptoed into the foyer and stopped dead.

  Arven stood there, his arms crossed on his chest. A deep frown marred his brow and a look of disdain had settled in his eyes. He wore his silk bed jacket, and his strong legs were bare. Was he naked underneath the robe? James bit his lip. In one hand Arven held a whip.

  James held his breath. Could he want him back again?

  “In here, slut, on your knees. Where were you tonight? Who were you with? Don’t lie to me, for I’ll know it. You’re late. Couldn’t leave your lover unsatisfied? Had to try to get up that limp dick of yours? Had some trouble doing it?”

  He cracked the whip and James fell to his knees. “Please, Arven. I—”

  “Silence! I’ll tell you when to speak. Crawl to me. Be grateful I’m feeling magnanimous at the moment or I would have killed you already. Well?”

  James scuttled forward. He’d tell Arven about the CD in the morning. Right now, he could only anticipate the upcoming fucking he knew Arven was going to give him. And hope that he’d survive.

  *

  Lorraine stood hidden behind the study door, cursing her stupidity.

  She should have just killed James earlier when she’d had the opportunity. Now, Arven was interested in the spineless queer, again.

  Lorraine should never have taunted Arven. She winced as she fingered her breasts, still so very sensitive to the touch, and twisted her nipples while Arven fucked that weak bastard, James.

  And tried to be satisfied vicariously. For the moment.

  * * * *

  Greenwich Village, New York City

  Aviva waved goodbye to Gabe and entered her home. Dragging her exhausted body up the stairs to her private domain, she unlocked the door, her fingers trembling with delayed reaction.

  Khat greeted her with a scowling meow and then changed tactics, rubbing his face against her ankles and weaving back and forth between her legs. She bent and scooped him up in her arms, ignoring the snag of his claws to her blouse. He still retained the habit of showing his initial displeasure to being held by unsheathing his sharp little talons. It was all for show, though. Just his way of displaying that he controlled the situation and it was by his leave that she could hold him.

  She kicked off her heels and strolled barefoot into the bedroom, still cradling him. Seeing her bed, he wiggled from her grasp, leaped to the mattress and stretched out on the coverlet. Piece by piece she took off her jewelry and stripped, all the while Khat watching her with approving eyes. At least, he appeared to like what he saw. Foolish to give him human emotions, but sometimes…

  Aviva sauntered into the bathroom and stepped into the shower and sighed as the first scalding hot bullets of water struck her body. It felt so good. The shock of the steaming liquid revitalized her. Soaping up her hands, she made sure the lather was thick, and cupped her breasts. Her nipples grew taut as she massaged them. Her fingers tightened their hold and she pinched the tender buds. Ecstasy.

  Her hands followed the swell of her rib cage. Her training as a Singer had increased the size to contain her fuller lung capacity. One of her lovers had called her upper torso “goddess-like.”

  If he had only known. Her ancient ancestors had been likened to gods. Astarte had been one of the early Desert Terrans. Her terrible beauty had been one of the things that had lured Ba’al to seek contact with the human and Terran world. Humans had worshipped her and Ba’al had coveted her, and she had sacrificed her life to prevent that.

  Aviva was no goddess. Just the descendent of women deemed goddesses. Just a Singer and a Desert Terran, and at this moment, a needy woman.

  She rinsed off and towel dried her hair, leaving it still damp. Next, she powdered her body with a silky mixture created by one of her clan still living in Israel. A mixture of talc and perfumes, it also had a minute portion of finely ground sand from her place of birth. Dusting her body with it reminded her of what she had given up when she left. And what was waiting for her if she should ever return.

  Aviva slid beneath the cover and sighed in contentment. Khat curled his body on the pillow next to her and watched without expression as she took her seldom used vibrator, placed it between her thighs and eased some of her loneliness.

  Soon enough, she’d be in Nolen’s den. And, with any luck, confronting Ba’al.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Boynton, New York

  “Wake up, James. Shower. You reek. When you’re clean and dressed, join me in the study. We have plans to discuss.” Arven left without another word, his confidence that his human flunky would follow his directions clearly evident to the human male who lay immobile in his bed.

  James rolled over onto his back, trying not to cry out as the soft sheets abraded the cuts, welts and burns on his flesh. Arven had punished him before taking him. Hard. Almost breaking his fingers. He tried bending them, and whimpered.

  Thank God Arven had already left or he would have punished him again for crying out. He shuddered. Arven had been like one possessed last night. He had ignored his safe word, actually laughing when James had whispered it one last time, his voice hoarse from screaming.

  The only thing his begging had done was to stop Arven from breaking his hands. But it wasn’t his begging that had prevented it. Arven had let him know that quite clearly. “Hear me, James. I need those precious fingers of yours to finish the work that I’ve given to you. There is no longer any safe word for you, dear boy.”

  To see him sneer when h
e spoke those words cut James even more deeply than the actual physical act had done.

  “I can’t trust you any longer away from the house. Finish your tasks to my satisfaction and I may … be pleased with you again.”

  James had wept with relief. And confusion. Arven had never shown any distrust or dissatisfaction with him before … Lorraine. “Please, Arven, I swear, it’s only the music that I look for. In fact, I was late because I found a wonderful performer that I wanted to share with you. I brought home a CD I wanted to play for you. Please.” And he had crawled to where his clothes lay in a heap on the bedroom floor and searched and found the disc, holding it aloft in trembling fingers. “Look? Please, play it. You’ll see why I wanted you to hear her.”

  Arven had stalked over to him and whipped the disc from his hand. James watched as the look of anger and disgust changed to one of lust and curiosity. He had almost wept again seeing Arven’s face transformed by desire.

  But finally, his Master had calmed. He glanced at James’ servile form and smiled. “We’ll listen to her tomorrow.” He placed the disc on the dresser and moved closer to James. “Get up. Get into bed and thank your God that I am appeased.” The rest of that night had been their usual blend of pain and pleasure.

  James tried once more to move his fingers as he attempted to recall more clearly the final act of possession from the night before. His mind was a blank. The pleasure and pain received earlier had blurred.

  All he had left were the remnants of the pain. And none of the pleasure.

  * * * *

  Nolen replayed the second brief track of music from the female’s CD. He held the case in his left hand and stroked the photo of the woman’s nearly naked body with his right. Exquisite.

  He had put on the music while waiting for James, unwilling to delay hearing what could have caused the weak-willed male to stay out past the curfew Nolen had imposed on him.

  As the first notes of the piano filled the room, he knew. Happiness. Joy. Unadulterated delight. He listened as the melody wove a spell around him and he laughed to hear the return of the skipping refrain.

  The female was incredibly talented and desirable. Sand clung to her golden skin and dusted her hair. The minute silicon bits sparkled amid the curls. Her lips were full and bruised. Had the photographer just kissed her?

  Her breasts were plump, the small shells that shielded her nipples served to entice the viewer to wish to pluck them and suck the fruits revealed. Her hips were rounded and her pussy… The seaweed cloaking her auburn hair allowed glimpses of the wet curls between her thighs.

  He played the second track titled Night Watch.

  The lyrics evoked a reaction so desperate and needy he reached out to flick the off switch and found his hand had drifted to his crotch and the swollen penis beneath the twill of his trousers. Nolen palmed the length pinned behind his zipper, panting to relieve the ache.

  The music ceased. Lorraine stood by the CD player, a look of disdain on her face. Nolen started to rise, but she held out a hand to stop him. “How can you get off listening to that noise?”

  “Noise? Are you deaf?”

  “Tone-deaf, so I’ve been told. Perhaps a little hard of hearing when it comes to music. I never felt the lack.”

  “Trust me when I tell you that that woman is amazingly talented.”

  “Fine. I just wanted you to know that James said he’d be down in a minute. He’s dressing some of the cuts you gifted him. They hurt, poor baby.”

  “Good. He’s learned not to disobey me. Leave me. Order new linens for the second floor guest room. The room across from mine. I’m inviting the performer to the estate. I want to hear her in person.”

  *

  Lorraine gaped at him. A stranger invading their space? Damn that stupid prick James! She should have tortured him before and killed him.

  “Well? What are you waiting for? I plan on her coming this Friday.” Nolen shuttered his eyes. “She may stay the weekend. I want the room ready in case she does. New sheets to have on hand. Silk ones.” His voice softened and once more his hand strayed out of sight, hidden behind his opulent desk, but Lorraine had little doubt what he was doing. “Make them the color of the sea.” His eyes flew open. “Still here?”

  Lorraine bit the inside of her mouth. The soft wash of blood and the immediate sharp pain offered only brief pleasure. “I’m going. I’ll see you at lunch?”

  Lowery stared at her. “I doubt it. I have a great deal to discuss with James and I wish to hear the rest of the tracks together with him. I’ll call you when I need you. Just leave the lunch tray on a cart outside the study.”

  Her mouth thinned and she turned to leave.

  “Oh, and, Lorraine? Don’t slam the door as you go.” The door reverberated as she swung it shut with all her strength.

  * * * *

  James halted outside the closed entrance to the study. Through the closed door he heard the strains of the song Viv had performed first the other night and Arven’s laughter. He had never heard Arven laugh … at least not a full-blown belly laugh. Often a dry cough, a snort with disdain, but never a laugh like this.

  He knocked and entered at the same time. Arven turned from looking out the window and grinned. “Come in, dear boy. I am so glad you joined me. I’ve only listened to two tracks, though it took a great deal of effort not to forge ahead.” He gestured to the padded armchair by the desk. “Sit. We’ll listen to the other tracks together.”

  James eased himself into the seat, waiting for the Arven to pounce on him like a cat with a catnip mouse.

  “I can see now why you were so taken with the female.” He chuckled. “Why, if I didn’t know better, I would say you desired her a little.” Arven laughed again at James’ horrified expression. “Don’t worry. I won’t bite you. Yet.”

  James relaxed against the cushioned back. Perhaps he was saved for now.

  “Here’s the track for Night Watch. I wanted to hear this again with you.”

  Arven let the next track start. The seductive strains of the song and lyrics wafted through the air. James held his breath as the power of the melody took hold of him. His head lolled back and his lips parted. Lips touched his. Arven’s lips. He moaned and opened wider, grabbing at Arven’s shoulders and whimpering against his mouth. “Don’t make me beg.”

  “Beg.”

  “Please.”

  “Again.”

  “Please. Please. Please.”

  Arven opened the buttons on James’ shirt and spread the two sides apart. He bent to take a tight male nipple into his mouth. The music stopped and Arven stopped. James opened his eyes and stared into Arven’s. He looked confused, uncertain.

  His memory of the effects of the music faded as the next track began. He shifted away from Arven and frowned. The discordant tones jangled his frayed nerves. The erratic rhythm upset Arven’s balance and he almost stumbled into his desk chair. James stared at the false bastard sitting opposite him and snarled wordlessly.

  “What’s got your knickers in a twist, Lowery? Lorraine burnt your toast? No, wait. You wanted me to listen to the music with you. You needed my expert opinion because you’re too dense to recognize talent when you hear it. But perhaps you’re deaf too, old man, and need younger ears to hear what you’d missed.” James had risen from his seat, his voice gaining volume as his vicious diatribe continued. He leaned forward and banged his fists on the desk. Spittle flew from his lips as he ranted on.

  Lowery rose to meet his challenge, thrusting his face nose to nose with James’.

  The music slowed. The melody changed. Once more the men forgot what had just occurred. They sank back into their seats, their racing heartbeats the only lingering aftereffect.

  Lowery touched the remote control and the CD stopped playing. “The woman is fantastic. Call her. I want to hear her in person.” He smiled. “I want to see if she is as good a lover as she is a performer.” He barked a laugh. “We’ll see how she performs in the bedroom as well as the stage.”


  James clenched his fists, but agreed. “I’ll get her card and call her later today.”

  “Do it now! I want to make sure you get her agreement. If she tells you no, I’ll have to use my power of persuasion.”

  James sighed, and hurried back to his room. When Arven got something into his head, he couldn’t be delayed or denied.

  *

  Nolen waited until James had left the room before he went over to the CD machine and picked up the jewel case. He stared intently at the picture, concentrating on the female as if he could glean any additional information about her from perusing her body.

  He noted that the six tracks were all composed and performed by Viv Shiron. No help with her name. What was going on? Could the woman be that rare creature known as a Singer?

  Impossible. Even so, more than likely she had no awareness of her heritage. If she had, would she have blithely displayed her talents? Of course he knew that there were humans with Terran blood in their backgrounds. But Singers were rare. More scarce than Speakers. Thankfully.

  The last Singer he had come in contact with had been Uaithne, reborn in the persona of Ethan Clark. The bastard had almost defeated him. He and his lover, Brigid, were still out there … and her spouse—if that little explosion hadn’t done the trick and killed them all. He sincerely hoped so, but he couldn’t take the chance. He hated all the time he spent confined, once again, to a silk-lined prison. No matter. Even if they were still alive, they had no idea of his plans and would soon be history.

  He stroked the breasts of the woman in the picture again. Yes. He owed himself a treat. And, if the woman had Singer blood in her, he’d silence her for good and spill every last drop.

  “Arven? I have the number. Should I call her now? You seem distracted. I can do it later. Just tell—”

  “Call!”

  * * * *

  Greenwich, New York City

  Aviva threw the pillow by her head at the phone, but it kept ringing. She struggled to sit up and swing her legs over the side of the bed.

  Nine in the morning, so she couldn’t even use the excuse that it was early. She eyed Khat, still sitting regally and unperturbed on the pillow she’d slept upon. “Too bad you can’t answer the phone. And too bad I shut off the answering machine. Let’s just hope it’s James.” With a muttered prayer she dove for the phone at the floor by the foot of the bed and flipped it open. “Hello?”