Fire Pearl (Beyond Ontariese 5) (4 page)

It was obvious he believed every word. Were
delusions always so detailed? “That’s a noble ambition, but why did
he go to another planet to set it up? Would the people of Bilarri
have opposed his ideas?” She wasn’t sure she should play in to his
lunacy, but she wasn’t sure what else to do.

“Everyone on Bilarri can manipulate magic, so
political neutrality is moot. But that’s not why your father left.”
He lifted one of the three decorative braids. “This is how I met
Vee.”

“He was a hairdresser?” His gaze flew to hers
and tension spiked for an instant, then he broke out in warm, rich
laughter. She should probably suppress her smartass tendencies
until she found out exactly what he wanted.

“These are familial braids. They honor my
wives and the children who resulted from each union.”

“You have three wives?” She wasn’t sure why
she was surprised. Polygamy was a common practice in many
societies. It shouldn’t matter if he had a harem filled with eager
women, yet something inside her rebelled. She’d seen his face, felt
his hands grasping her hips as he filled her again and again.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she’d hoped this would
eventually lead to that soft pile of furs. Even lunatics needed sex
and she’d ached for a little affection longer than she could
remember. Besides, if he fell into an exhausted sleep after
fulfilling her fantasies, it would be the perfect time to slip away
before this turned ugly.

He brushed the backs of his fingers along her
jaw, a faint smile curving his lips. “Does the thought of my wives
upset you?”

“No.” She tried to turn away, but he pushed
his fingers into her hair and closed them into a loose fist. Though
he wasn’t hurting her, pride insisted she grab his wrist.

Leaning toward her, he brought his face mere
inches from hers. His moist breath wafted across her lips, his gaze
hot and consuming. “I don’t believe you.” With just the tip of his
index finger, he circled her nipple. She squirmed, unsure if she
was trying to avoid his touch or increase the pressure. “If you’ll
be honest, I’ll release you. If releasing you is what you
want.”

Did she want him to release her, or would she
rather feel his mouth moving over hers? Desire had been simmering
within her for the past ten months. Seeing his face in the mirror
had fanned the spark into flame. Maybe a kiss would ease— Not if he
was married three times over!

“Honesty buys you the choice. Release or
reward.”

“The idea of any man having more than one
wife is upsetting to me.” He smiled and moved his finger to her
other nipple. She tugged against his wrist and his fingers
tightened in her hair. This was clearly a battle of wills and her
body was fighting on his side. Would he cup her breast if she
continued to resist? Would he kiss her with the explosive passion
she’d sensed in her vision?

It didn’t matter! She couldn’t let her
neglected body distract her from her purpose—escape.

“Do you want me to kiss you? Is that why
you’re provoking me?”

She didn’t know what the hell she wanted.
That was the problem. Her body burned, aching to be overwhelmed,
yet her brain knew it was foolish, perhaps dangerous to continue
down this path.

“The thought of your wives bothers me,” she
relented, “but I don’t know why it should. I know nothing about
you.” So much for honesty. She knew far more about him than he
realized, far more than she cared to admit.

He pressed his mouth over hers just long
enough for the silken heat to register then he eased back.
“Bilarrians mate for life. I have outlived three wives.” His
fingers slipped from her hair and he pushed to his feet. “Vee was
one of the guards who accompanied my first wife from Rodymia.”

Breathless and rattled, Aria stood as well.
He’d just revealed a glimpse of his dark side. If she challenged
him or displeased him, he’d force his will upon her. Just like
she’d been taught, just like her mother warned. She had to be
careful, had to seem cooperative, even submissive. That’s what he
expected, what every sorcerer wanted.

Focus on the wild story. Figure out what
Drakkin wants from you.
“My father was Rodyte?”

“Your father was the son of an Ontarian slave
and a Rodyte soldier. He had no idea he had Mystic abilities until
he came to Bilarri.”

“The Bilarrians and the Rodytes are enemies.
Why did you agree to marry a Rodyte?”

“It was a political union negotiated by my
father.” He clasped his hands behind his back and faced her. “How
much do you know about the conflict between Bilarri and
Rodymia?”

She licked her lips. They still tingled from
his brief kiss. How much more intense would it be if he kissed her
for real, unleashed the— She had to stop thinking about sex.
Drakkin hadn’t whisked her away for a romantic weekend. He’d
kidnapped her for reasons she still didn’t understand.

If he wanted a history lesson, she’d oblige
him. “The Rodytes were driven out by the Bilarrians thousands of
years ago. They were imprisoned on a remote planet because of their
inability to manipulate magic.”

Amusement lit his gaze as he turned away. He
walked to a small table near the tent’s opening, where a pitcher
and two cups awaited him. After filling the cups with water, he
returned to her side. “That’s accurate from the Rodyte perspective,
I suppose.” He handed her one of the cups and took a sip from the
other. “They’ve conveniently left out the fact they were
annihilating everyone who could manipulate magic, but let’s move
on. While the Rodytes were ‘imprisoned’ on their remote planet, two
separate groups emerged. One was determined to multiply as quickly
as possible, advance their technology and finish what they’d begun
before the exile. The other group saw the ‘imprisonment’ as an
opportunity to develop and prosper without Bilarrian
interference.”

“What does this have to do with Vee?” All
these facts were making her restless. She wanted to shake him and
demand that he get to the point.

“By the time the militant Rodytes broke
through the planetary shield, the peaceful Rodytes realized it was
crucial that they distinguish themselves from their warlike
brothers. Their leader approached the Bilarrian government and
negotiated a treaty.”

“Your marriage was part of this treaty?” At
least the tangent was starting to make sense. His thoughts seemed
remarkable well organized for a madman.

“Yes. Benita and I had been married just over
a year when she was murdered by a Shadow Assassin.”

“What is a Shadow Assassin?”

“A Mystic mercenary trained in stealth and
brutality. They were used extensively during Ontarian’s Great
Conflict.” He paused for a moment. She wasn’t sure if he was
sifting through unpleasant memories or refocusing his lies. They
had drifted a bit off course. “Vee should have returned to Rodymia
after Benita’s death, but I’d sensed his potential and offered to
train him.”

“And when his training was complete, he chose
to explore his mother’s world rather than return to Rodymia.” They
were finally back to Vee, her ‘”father”.

“Exactly.”

It was time to start pointing out the flaws
in his scheme. “How old are you? The man in the crystal appeared
ancient, yet you were his mentor.”

“I’m not technically immortal. I can be
killed, but my ability to heal and regenerate tissue ensures my
longevity. I have lived about ten times longer than most
Bilarrians.”

“Are we talking hundreds or thousands of
years?” Wow, when he’d constructed his delusion he’d put some
serious effort into it.

“I have seen eighteen hundred and
seventy-three years.”

“Damn,” Aria muttered, quickly hiding her
disbelieving smirk. “No wonder you’ve outlived three wives.” She
wrapped both hands around her cup and returned to her chair. Poking
holes in his fantasy world hadn’t helped much. She needed to stop
distracting him or they’d never get through the tale. “Back to
Vee.”

“He was murdered by a rogue Ontarian who had
teamed up with the Rodytes. The Rodyte agenda hasn’t changed much
over the years. They’re still determined to destroy anyone who can
manipulate magic, so they’ve fostered a similar resentment in
Ontarians who lack Mystic abilities.”

She stared down into her cup, watching light
reflect off the surface of the water. What if Drakkin wasn’t crazy?
A shiver skipped down her spine. This seemed like an incredible
amount of detail for a flight of fancy. Maybe there was a kernel of
truth in his rambling story. It was certainly possible that some
big-shot Mystic left his bastard growing in a space pet. Why should
she care if he was dead? He’d obviously been ashamed of her or he
would have contacted her before his death. Unless…

Afraid of the hope flickering to life within
her heart, she looked at Drakkin. “How long has he known about
me?”

His brow knitted and he set his empty cup
aside. “He wasn’t able to leave us much information. We know the
Rodytes were using you to control him.”

“That’s ridiculous.” The hope sputtered out
before she could enjoy its warmth. “I know for a fact he’s not the
only Mystic to utilize the services of a space pet. It couldn’t
have caused that much of a scandal.”

Drakkin strolled toward her, his expression
cautious. “Now I’m confused. What does this have to do with space
pets?”

And his house of cards comes tumbling
down
. “You really don’t have a lot of information, do you?” She
set the cup on the floor and shot to her feet, too agitated to sit.
“My mother was a pleasure servant. Excluding the occasional space
station and my brief stay on Earth, I’ve spent my entire life
aboard ships.”

“Of course,” he muttered, staring past her as
he rambled on. “It would make you almost impossible to find. You
were continually in motion.”

She shook her head, finally feeling like she
had some control of the conversation. “Space pets are required to
register each time they switch ships. Anytime he wanted to find me,
all he had to do was check the register. You’ll never convince me
he was searching for me all these years.”

“It’s brilliant, really. The easiest way to
keep you from trying to escape was for you not to realize you were
a prisoner.”

“Are we having the same conversation?” Her
voice rose right along with her emotions. He hadn’t backed down
from the obvious flaws in his ridiculous story. How could he remain
so calm when she’d just proved him wrong? “I was never a prisoner.
My mother was a pleasure servant.” She stopped herself before
admitting how close she’d come to following in her mother’s
footsteps. He didn’t need to know all the sordid details of her
past.

“Where is she now?” He sounded downright
menacing. “I need to speak with her.”

“She died four years ago.”

He accepted the news with a stiff nod. “How
did you end up on Earth?”

“Apparently Daddy’s genes finally kicked in.
I had this bizarre surge of… It’s hard to explain. I heard voices
and saw images, and then I was sucked into a vortex very much like
the one you used to bring us here.”

“You spontaneously teleported?”

“Isn’t that what I just said?” She flipped
her hair out of her eyes and turned away from him. All his talk of
planetary treaties and magic powers made her meager life seem all
the more shoddy and she still didn’t understand what he wanted from
her.

Pulling the crystal disk from the pocket of
his pants, he rolled it across his fingertips and held it out
toward her. “Look.”

She heaved a sigh of frustration then took
the disk from him and held it up toward the light. Expecting to see
the man again, she glanced at Drakkin then back into the disk. The
image of a woman came into focus. Her golden-brown hair had been
arranged on top of her head in an intricate pattern of ringlets and
braids. Wide purple eyes dominated her features, but the angle of
her cheekbones and the shape of her lips seemed familiar.

“Who is she?” Aria whispered, unable to look
away.

“E’Lanna dar Aune.” He waited until she met
his gaze to add, “
She
was your mother.”

“Your wounds are healing nicely,” Quentin
Keire, Crown Stirate of Rodymia, said in a softly mocking tone.
“Are you ready to tell me what really happened?”

Noll dar Joon watched Faujer closely, waiting
for his reaction to Quentin’s provocation. Neither of the Rodytes
could see her, but Quentin knew she was watching, had directed her
to assess Faujer’s responses and scan his mind for any hint of
deception.

“I accept responsibility for my failure,
Sire, but I have not lied to you.” Faujer kept his gaze fixed on
the center of Quentin’s chest, a position neither subservient nor
challenging.

“You still contend that your prisoner
just—how did you put it—blinked out of sight?”

“I don’t know what happened. I woke up as
Aria returned from the utility room. She stood beside the bed for a
moment then light erupted around her and she disappeared.” He shook
his head, the blue highlights in his hair gleaming. “She looked
more surprised than I was. I don’t think she did it
intentionally.”

Naked and bound in magnetic restraints,
Faujer was a visual feast. Noll’s gaze swept his muscular body,
lingering with lascivious interest on his flaccid cock. Even at
rest, it was impressive. How much longer and thicker would it grow
if she touched it, stroked it, drew it slowly into her mouth?

“Noll, does he speak the truth?” Quentin
casually walked to his throne and sat, apparently expecting her to
take over the interrogation.

Shit!
She’d been too busy admiring his
physique to scan his emotions. Easing into his mind, she sensed
more frustration than fear. She probed deeper as she “shifted” into
view. Rodyte leaders lavished riches and rewards on those in their
favor while those who displeased them were lucky to escape with
their lives.