Steel Dominance (8 page)

Whether the ministrations were what she thought or not, another thought bothered her far more than the emperor-bey indulging in hanky panky with two women straight after he’d kissed her hand. Tomorrow she would be alone in the middle of this labyrinthine place.

Grow a spine. Half the parties at University are more dangerous than this place. The emperor-bey will forget you two minutes after you leave his sight. And he probably needs a servant to wipe his bottom and blow his nose.

Besides, everything about Byzantium seemed to zing straight into her blood and pump her awareness to the highest level. With Dankyo and his dark, enticing promises, with the vibrant colors, with the tropical lushness, the clash of armed men, war and weapons, and all that mingled with religious fervor. For a second she shut her eyes and just…breathed. Byzantium was alive like nowhere else she had ever been. She needed to be here. Somewhere in Byzantium was the path to her future.

Dankyo took her by the elbow, and she saw a boy in servant garb hurrying away.

The hard look in Dankyo’s eyes softened, and he seemed to run through something in his head before he spoke. “Sofia, thank you. The men at the airship tried to take over the
Princess Kay
by force. There was a fight, but they were all killed. All is good.”

“All? No one else was hurt?”

“No. From what Sten told me, he’s a well-trained fighter, and the rest of the crew is ex-military too.” He rubbed her elbow gently with his thumb. “I’m impressed. Later, you will say how you do this.”

“Sure. I guess. I can try.”

“Thank you.”

She shook her head at this sudden kindness and went to follow him down the corridor. Time to get dressed and be a slave for a night. Even
that
had her buzzing. And she knew why, she knew exactly why. And his name started with
D.

Chapter Seven

She’d expected a room that she would have to share with Dankyo, but instead they were directed to two separate rooms. When she stepped into hers, the door clicked shut behind her, and she faced four women and a submerged bath filled with steaming water. Bearing staid expressions, the women came toward her.

“Hold on.” She held out both palms. “Wait.”

It made no difference of course, and a half hour later she’d been washed, primped, and manicured. She now stood naked and glowing with warmth from the bath, and before her the women held up the clothes she must wear.

Oh. Hell.

The ruby-accented pantaloons were to be expected. As was the tunic of silken cloth, shaded from wine red to palest pink, that flared at the hips into a soft hoop with a strange tinkling assortment of little silver chains. What wasn’t expected…

Sofia gaped. “No.”

Fifteen minutes later they delivered her to the adjacent room where Dankyo waited, dressed suavely in a moon-silvered gray suit with a high collar.

She colored just thinking of what she wore but stood her ground. The women, giggling, retreated from the room and left her standing alone.
I can do this.

Yes.

Except her nipples reminded her of how they were strung up on and gripped by the devilish silver spirals of wire with those feathery wisps of fabric woven onto the wire. The tunic had a neckline that was really a breast line for it cupped her just beneath her breasts and left those precious assets utterly uncovered. Her nipples poked up even perkier just remembering the woman applying the silver wires.

Whenever she moved, the wisps of cloth floated and drifted and tugged at her. It was disconcerting, especially when Dankyo leisurely examined her, walking around her. She turned to follow.

“No. Stay there, Sofia.”

“Uh.” The idea of obeying, just for a second, made her slow, and he smiled.

“Stay.”

Inexplicably, she did. This was his power, and she knew it. She wanted, needed, to obey. Those images she’d always had, of going to her knees before a man, returned full force. Sharp enough to keep her still and to send a tingle to the moistening center between her legs.

“Good, Sofia.” How she adored the sound of her name coming from his mouth. “You know, you are so lovely, and I can’t appreciate you properly unless I see all of you. From here.” Briefly, he placed his palm on her buttock, then walked farther to come full circle. “To here.”

This time he only gestured at her front. Her breasts lit up with warmth. She swayed. Her ass remembered the line of every one of his fingers as they’d lain upon her flesh.

I let him touch me. Wake yourself. I’m still deciding…aren’t I?

Yes. Yes, yes, yes
. She repeated that in her head all the way through the Decagon palace, as a passenger in the little chugging steam cart and then in a new limousine—all the way to the walled-in palace of the Heraklos family. Minarets pointed skyward at the four corners of the main building. As she trailed behind Dankyo up the terracotta steps to the front entrance, she muttered prayers. She was so confused.

“What are you saying?” Dankyo asked quietly without turning around.

The thought of answering with the truth terrified her. If he interrogated her, she would have to face herself.

When she didn’t answer, he stopped and looked at her.

Caught with one foot on a higher step and one lower, she felt singled out, targeted. Again her body responded. Her lips parted as she strove to think of an answer that made sense yet didn’t betray her. A breeze sifted across, making the cloth attached to her nipples flail at her gently and rattling leaves on the nearby trees.

“Well?” He put his hand to her face and caressed her.

Shaken, on the verge of answering, she was saved by a summons from a steward above.

“Sir! The party begins. You must enter now or be locked out.”

“Later, then. I will ask again.” His eyes held the promise. “Perhaps tomorrow has come early?”

She shook her head, but he only smiled grimly. “Don’t lie to me, Sofia. Never ever lie.”

Oh God.

Numb with fear and some emotion she couldn’t understand, she followed him.

They were led along a wide corridor furnished with low chairs and tables, then through a keyhole arch into a large squarish room. Anxiety clamped down onto her stomach. Rather than a single central table, people were gathered about low knee-high ones.

With her gaze at Dankyo’s feet, things flashed into sight and caught her eye before something else intrigued her—damask cloth and the brilliant sheen of embroidered cushions, the silver of pouring jugs and platters, lemon scent and sweet smoke and roast meats. The eyes staring at her were made up with kohl, and the mouths below with poppy red. The tinkle of teacups and spoons and forks. The gentle moans of the aroused.

The people.

She stumbled.

Barely clothed men and women at the feet of their owners. Some naked. Bare breasts were being fondled. Men ate while their slaves did all manner of duties—feeding them or holding their plates or massaging their feet.

“Here, sir. Food is being served. Enjoy.” The servant left.

“Sofia.” Dankyo took her elbow and gently tugged. “Sit, or you will be noticed.”

“Oh.” Afraid someone might grab her and force her to participate in what might easily become an orgy, she sank to her knees and sat back on her heels.

Dankyo was on the divan. With his hand on her upper arm, he pulled her to him, then closed his hand on the back of her neck. “Listen to me before the servants return. There is nothing to be concerned over. You are with me. No harm will come to you.”

At the touch and his voice, she became a little calmer. She wasn’t alone. But dozens of questions still trampled through her thoughts.

As food arrived and they were left to themselves, she relaxed. Sometimes men glanced at her, but none ventured over. Her clothes were demure compared to utter nakedness—though her nipples ached from the sensations constantly buffeting them. For a while Dankyo ignored her and merely asked her to hold the platter up where he could reach. To her, right now, being ignored was bliss. Her heart rate descended. It seemed this was a dinner where simply attending was enough. Good.

From out the corner of her eyes, she cataloged the people and was surprised to see two of the emperor-bey’s personal guards attending the vizier who had escorted them at the palace. The female guard, at the least, was the same also. Though the guard wore a helmet that covered her eyes, Sofia recalled the thin scar across her mouth.

When only a small portion of the food remained on the platter, Dankyo speared a piece of spiced meat on his fork and put it to her lips. He smiled at her hesitation.

“Eat, Sofia. Some Masters enjoy feeding their slaves.”

Hunger made her stomach gurgle. She opened her mouth and took the morsel.

Dankyo fed her the rest of the meal, then gave her iced wine before allowing her some of the dessert. Men visited them, greeted Dankyo, and left after exchanging a few words. If this was a slave’s lot, she could tolerate it.

Quietly, and gradually, the atmosphere changed. Some of the men began using their slaves in sexual ways. She tried not to look, but curiosity enticed her. Most fascinating was a young redhead lying on a divan, attending to her Master who stood before her. While she fondled his cock, his fingers were pumping inside her cunt. With a shudder and loud moan, the woman came. Her Master chuckled, then took charge of her head, thrusting deep inside her mouth.

“Oh my God,” Sofia whispered. She’d never watched another couple make love.

“Sofia?” Dankyo bent and said softly, “Your nipples are standing up more than they have all night.”

Instinctively, she raised her hands to cover her breasts.

“No. Don’t move.”

What?
She looked at him, and he shook his head. Ah. Of course. Slaves did not cover themselves. Blushing furiously, she put her hands on her thighs.

“Very good.” He smiled. “Don’t worry. I will only look, not touch. I like the appearance of those wires on you.”

She caught her lip in her teeth. Sitting as she was on her heels, with her breasts outthrust, she couldn’t stop imagining him doing something to her—licking her nipples, and sucking them into his mouth. The room became just her and him. With his trouser-covered knee inches away, the temptation to put her head down and rest her cheek on him seized her. She
so
wanted to put her nose to the fabric and inhale.

She squeezed shut her eyes a second.
What is this? Silly. Am I such a besotted wretch?

The harem pants were diaphanous. Were they transparent enough for him to see the moisture leaking between her legs? Concealing herself seemed a good idea, but when she shifted her legs to close them, he reached down and placed a hand on her thigh.

“I said, don’t move.”

Anger flared. He was playing with her. He knew she couldn’t deny him here. Yet that knowledge fuelled her arousal. Her pussy clenched, sending a delicious message running up her body.

Teasing back might be unwise, but she moved her legs even wider, then licked her lips with her wet tongue tip. He wouldn’t touch her. Dankyo was too well-mannered, too in control. Perhaps it was she who had him at her mercy?
Dare I do more?

Pulse quickening with apprehension, she did a little movement this way and that way so her breasts bounced enough to attract attention.

Elbow on knee, he came close enough that she could feel his breath on her cheek. “Beware, young lady. I have limits. Move again, and I will make you touch yourself.”

Frozen, she fumbled to decide if he was genuine or not. If he commanded her out loud, she would have to obey. Sure her eyes were wide with worry, she stayed still. And the fact that she did, and that he’d made her, somehow went round in a circle and put a noose around her chest, made her breathe stiffly. As surely as if he
had
touched her, his words aroused her. Below, her clit was hard and protruding.

Why do I like this? Why?
For several minutes they looked at each other. Her stock-still, him with his hands splayed on his wide thighs. He blinked at times. He studied her. She studied him until the very air on her skin energized. Her awareness expanded; her body waited…for something.

The tromp of armored men shook the wooden floor. Metal jingled and leather creaked. Voices were raised, though not in anger, but in command.

It woke her. As if she’d been hypnotized, her heart kicked back into action and thudded up to normal speed. Her eyes seemed dry from not shutting them enough. One deep breath and she turned to see what the fuss was about. Dankyo caught her chin.

“Don’t look. It’s janissaries.” He lifted his head as if to watch what was happening behind her.

Janissaries? She knew of them. The original janissaries were trained as soldiers by the Ottomans from the children of captives. As centuries passed and the siege of Byzantium grew old, the customs of the two facing cities had intermingled. There were churches across the Bosporus, and mosques and minarets here, and janissaries too. Many, she knew, had reached high office in the Byzantine government.

“Sofia, it appears you may be a little discomforted. There’s a regulation regarding slaves here that someone has decided to police. You will have exemption, I’m sure, but it may take some debate to convince them.”

To convince the janissaries? These men were renowned for their fanatical devotion to rules. Whatever did Dankyo mean by discomfort?

“Present her.” The rough order was stated by a man behind her.

“You may look,” Dankyo said. “So that it won’t surprise you.”

A woman squeaked, and cloth rustled.

At the sight of the slave lying half naked and legs spread on a cleared table, Sofia tensed.

Oh-oh. Not good. This is not a friendly game of doctors and nurses.

The girl’s Master placed a hand on her abdomen. “See. It is all in order.”

The man peering at her crotch adjusted his spectacles, then rubbed his beard. “Yes. Let it be recorded as so.” His blue robe nearly swept the floor. Tucked into the cloth wrapped about his waist was a small curved knife. Beyond him, and a few yards back, were three armored soldiers. And past them, she glimpsed the female guard of the emperor-bey as she paced a step closer and stared.