The Commander's Slave (13 page)

But if he couldn’t claim Asha as his
own, then what could he do? The idea of having her bear children
other than his was like poison in his blood, as was even the idea
of letting her out of his sight. And even if she couldn’t bear Seti
children, offhand he couldn’t think of any of his men who wouldn’t
appreciate her warming their bed. But how would they treat her?
Would they appreciate her quick intelligence or see it as a
challenge to be overcome?

By the Creator, who could he trust her
with? And, time after time, he kept coming back to Daurent. Except
his faithful adjutant wasn’t being as cooperative as he had
expected, and to be honest, Tangus was feeling equal parts
irritation and relief from his subordinate’s response.

“
Daurent ….”

“
Commander, you have to
tell her how you feel about her.”

Did he? Not only step down from the
pedestal his men kept him on, the pedestal that was necessary to
their future survival, but bare his soul to another
being?

“
I’ll take it under
advisement.”

* * * *

Her nipples rubbed against the rough
cloth of the blanket, the friction driving her into a
frenzy.

Tangus was behind her, thrusting into
her as she knelt against the side of his bed, her knees and her
body open wide to his ravaging.

He reached around her to rub a nipple
between thumb and forefinger while his other hand slid down to her
wet labia, flicking mercilessly against her clitoris.

Asha threw her head back and moaned,
felt his mouth at her neck, teeth nipping against her nape’s tender
flesh.

“
What do you want?” he
rasped.

“
I ... want ... you,” she
panted, in between thrusts. By the gods, just the thought of him
inside her was enough to make her more slippery, more fragrant,
more mindless.

His fingers plundered her, their
calluses catching against her tender nub. She clenched against him
and was seconds away from orgasm when he stopped.

No, he couldn’t do this! Frantically,
she pushed herself against him, but he remained immovable,
unresponsive. Then, with a jerk, he began the primal rhythm again,
once more taking her to the brink before halting again.

Asha screamed her
frustration.

“
No, Tangus!”

“
Not Tangus,” he corrected
her.

She shook her head. “No, not Tangus.
Master. Please, master.”

“
Do you want to please
me?”

“
Yes, master.” Her entire
body was throbbing, every sensation feeding into her hypersensitive
clitoris and the cock that was buried to its hilt inside
her.

“
Touch yourself,” he
ordered. “Pleasure yourself.”

She moved her heavy hands, one to her
breasts and the other to her groin, to the welcoming moisture and
pulsing need. Slowly, she touched herself, pinching a nipple
between her fingers and exploring her sex with her other hand.
Roaming down her cleft, over his flesh and cupping his balls before
retreating to her sex, flicking against it with practiced fingers
while she jerked against him.

Tangus sat back, levering her back
against him while she played with herself, splaying his fingers
across her ribs so he could feel every breath, every shudder as it
rocked her body, content to let her pleasure drive his
need.

But when she began to climax, he took
over, moving her fingers out of the way so he could take control.
Left to her own devices, she would stop at the first orgasm, but he
wanted more, so he relentlessly continued the onslaught on her sex,
touching, teasing, while she convulsed through two, three, four
orgasms, until it was too much even for him and he emptied himself
into her.

They collapsed on the floor, the
coolness calming their heated skin, but still he held himself
inside her, reluctant to release her.

“
We should get to bed,” he
said.

“
Hmmmmm.” She nestled her
back closer against his body.

With a smile, he reached for the
blanket and dragged it to the floor, covering both of them, and
they fell asleep, but when Asha woke the next morning--although it
was still dark outside--she found herself in his bed.

Her sleepy half-open eyes registered
Tangus bustling around his quarters, tidying his various
possessions.

“
Why don’t you come back
here?” she asked drowsily, a seductive smile on her
lips.

Tangus didn’t meet her eyes, and that
sobered her instantly. “What’s the matter?” she asked.

He should have known better. Didn’t he
think she knew him well enough by now to gauge his moods? He was
nervous and unhappy, so unlike the Tangus she had fallen in love
with, the Tangus who had made love to her last night.

“
Doctor Zehnda called. He
completed analysis of his xenotyping.” Tangus indicated a pad on
his bench.

Her skin chilled. “And?”

“
You’re compatible with the
Seti, although it will take external fertilization to complete
conception.”

Each word was a heavy stone dropped
into the well of her spirit.

“
What will you do?” she
asked through bloodless lips.

He looked away. “We can begin egg
harvesting tomorrow.”

So, even after everything, he was
still going to sacrifice her to his grand Seti strategy? Asha tried
to capture his eyes, to imprint on him her horror at what was to
come, but he sidestepped the intimacy. If it required medical
manipulation for them to create a child, then it was certain that
she was not currently pregnant with Tangus’ child. She shivered,
wondering who he had in mind as the father of the first hybrid
baby. As an example to the rest of his men, she was almost positive
it wouldn’t be him.

“
I think you should rest,”
he said. “I’ve told the Doctor not to expect you today.”

Even after he had gone, she remained
seated in bed, cold and numb. She had failed. She had gambled on a
greater degree of compatibility, and she had failed.

She didn’t know how long she sat there
before a sound impinged on her consciousness. It was a methodical
scratching on the shutter of the window. Curious, she got to her
feet, wrapping the blanket around her.

With some effort, she slid the
clear-panel aside and pushed a shutter open. She gasped.

In front of her were crouched three
people--two women and one man. But the strange thing was that they
had the same golden skin as she had. One of the women, her dark
hair tied back severely into a functional bun, lifted her head,
taking a cautious look into the room.

“
My Lady, we’ve come to
rescue you.”

My Lady?
Were they
talking to her?

“
I … don’t ….”

“
We have to hurry, my lady.
There’s not much time.”

“
Do you know who I am?”
Asha asked in a hesitant voice. It caused them to look at each
other worriedly.

“
We were sent by the
Dowager Eminence the moment we heard of your disappearance,” the
other female answered quickly, “and have been tracking you for a
long time. Please, my lady, we have to go now.”

“
Go where?” Asha
asked.

“
Home, my lady.”

Home. Until an hour ago, she had
thought home was wherever Tangus was, but she could see now that
such hopes were futile. Should she stay? And do what? Beg him to
keep her? Throw herself on his mercy? Ask that his be the first
child she bore? And even if he agreed, what about after that?
Tangus’ sense of honor would not allow him to monopolize her while
he couldn’t offer his men equivalent release.

But she had only known Tangus. Her
entire remembered life revolved around him. He was as precious to
her as the air she breathed.

She looked at the three golden and
expectant faces, hoping desperately for enlightenment.

Chapter
Eight

One month later:

Asha let the edge of the soft, sheer
curtain slip through her fingers as she gazed out the window of her
bedroom. Below her, in the middle distance, the water of Martiss
Lake glistened like gems in the morning sun. Beyond the lake, tall
stately trees stood sentinel in the Northern Forest Expanse. She
breathed in the air, letting it fill her lungs with its sweetness.
Above her, the slanting sun textured the intricate arabesques of
the ivory ceiling.

The door to her chamber chimed, a low
melodious sound, and Imgran, the Senior Steward,
entered.

“
My lady, the Dowager
Eminence would like to see you.”

“
Of course. Tell her I’ll
be right down, Imgran.”

“
Very good, my
lady.”

With a sigh, Asha turned from the
window and regarded her reflection briefly in the mirror, adjusting
the neckline of her morning jacket before exiting the
room.

Her slippered feet slapped quietly on
the polished stone floor outside her room as she followed the
corridor to a wide flight of stairs and descended.

It was still early, with hours to go
before the morning petitions, so Asha headed for the Residence’s
more informal breakfast room.

A guard--one of so few
remaining--opened the door for her. Soon there would not be enough,
and they would have to forgo the ages-old rituals of Abrengo
royalty and automate most of the Residence’s functions. But for
now, she smiled her acknowledgement to the ceremonial guard and
entered.

Her aunt, the Dowager Eminence, ruler
of Fa Drunn III, watched with keen eyes as she
approached.

Asha dropped a graceful curtsey. “Your
Eminence.”

The striking older woman was seated at
the head of a long table. Flanking her on one side was Onduin, her
eldest daughter and heir, on the other, her second daughter,
Erinan. They were still eating.

“
Won’t you join us,
Arais?”

Arais. That was her name. Arais
sun-Abrengo, blood kin to royalty and niece of the Dowager
Eminence. The weight of her connection, only recently recovered,
still settled heavily on her.

“
I’m sorry, your Eminence,
but I’m not hungry.”

“
Whatever did they do to
you, Ari?” Onduin asked, shaking her head. Her golden hair,
intricately styled, bobbed in time to her words. “You haven’t been
yourself since we rescued you.”

“
Indeed,” the dowager
agreed. She indicated a chair. “Please, Arais, if you will not eat
with us, at least sit and keep us company.”

“
We made Mama order you
down,” Erinan the teenager told her with a cheeky grin. “Ever since
the treatments finished, you’ve been moping about refusing to eat.
Imgran has been filling us in.”

“
It occurs to me that we
were too precipitate in ordering you on your mission, Arais,” the
dowager cut in, ignoring her mischievous offspring. “I feel we
should have consulted more widely, and for a longer period of
time.”

“
Oh no, Aunt Inna, you
couldn’t have done that.” Ari was still unsure of much of her
recovered life, but she was adamant on this point. “Who else could
you have sent on a diplomatic mission to the Krat
system?”

“
Mama could have sent me,”
Onduin suggested, biting into a piece of toasted bread.

Ari looked at her sharply. “Don’t be
ridiculous, Dew, you’re the heir to the throne.”

“
Or me,” Erinan
interjected.

“
We wanted them to take us
seriously, Erin, not play simulations with us.” Ari looked at her
aunt. “You had to send me. There was no other choice.”

“
And yet look at what
happened,” the dowager said. “We lost you, our most beloved niece,
and despaired of finding you again. And when we did finally recover
you ....”

All at the table were silent for a
moment.

It was true. After the shock of
discovering that the third successor to the Abrengo throne had
completely lost her memory, the Fa Drunn retrieval team took her
straight to the Alpine Monks’ Retreat in the northwest corner of
the great northern continent. There she was sequestered for three
weeks, although she wasn’t under any doubt that, despite her
isolation, regular and disturbing reports were being relayed back
to the royal house.

She had not behaved well. She had
ranted and raved. Thrown objects around and destroyed furniture.
Sobbed for days on end. The legendary calmness of the monks made it
even worse, angering her to such an extent that she went on longer
and more destructive rampages until, eventually, there was no more
fine porcelain to break, no more chairs to hurl at walls, and for
the moment at least, no more tears left inside her.

And only at that point did the monks
begin talking to her.

She might have returned to the Royal
Residence a week ago with her memory back, the dowager thought, but
she had truly lost her innocence. Where once she saw an impulsive
young woman, not uncaring but perhaps a little careless of those
around her, now she saw someone more sober, more reflective. On
balance, it looked to be a useful improvement, but the dowager
wondered how much such newly-acquired self-discipline had cost her
niece.