The Pleasure Slave (25 page)

“Aye. I know.” But he’d wanted more from her. He could not give her a declaration of his own love, but he wanted one willingly from her lips. Mayhap ’twas selfish on his part. However, he had no control over his need for her love. He licked her collarbone. “I, too, care about you.”

“I—thank you.”

“Do you love me?”

“Do you love
me?
” she countered, refocusing on him.

He wanted to answer, but he decided to show her how he felt about her with his body instead. His fingers moved between her legs, circling the dew he found there. “You are perfection.”

“So are you,” she breathed.

He kissed her everywhere, leaving no hollow unexplored. He had her writhing, screaming, and when he finally entered her, they both moaned at the rightness of it. He took his time loving her body. Only after she peaked twice did he allow himself his own release. When his shudders subsided, he fell to his back and stared up at the ceiling, keeping her at his side.

“I—I want to thank you for all you have done for me.”

Tenderness shining in her eyes, she caressed his cheek. “We’ve helped each other, Tristan.”

“Aye, but I do not think you will ever know just what
you
have given me. A piece of my soul. My pride. My honor.”

“You’ve given me confidence and adventure. You’ve shaken up my boring life and added vitality.”

He paused. “But we cannot give each other marriage or children, can we?”

“No,” she replied sadly. “But having you is enough.”

Her words touched him all the way to his soul, and he captured her lips for a soft kiss. “Once, when I was a boy, I dreamed of such things. Of my wife holding me in her arms each night as she grew bigger with our child. Of my son learning the skills of a talon by my patient hand. Of my daughter smiling up at me, allowing me to kiss her hurts away.”

“I wanted the same,” she admitted. “A family, a place to belong.”

“I wish I could give you those things, little dragon.”

Julia closed her eyes against the joy and pain of his admission. Combined, the emotions cut deeper than any knife, yet lifted away the sting. “And I wish I could give them to you.”

“What a pair we make, eh?” he said with a sigh.

Change the subject, change the subject,
her mind chanted. Before she broke down and cried. “Tell me about the women on your planet. What are they like?”

He nuzzled her neck before he answered. “And if I refuse to tell you?”

“I’ll give you a karate chop you’ll never forget.”

“Then I will tell you—” he slid his hands away, and she moaned from the loss “—after you give me a demonstration of this karate. My curiosity must be appeased.”

“Very well, then.” She crawled from the bed and pushed to her feet.

When she bent to grab her clothing, he tsked. “Ahah-ah, Julia. I am sure this karate is best demonstrated with no clothing to hinder the movements.”

“You’re sure, are you?”

“Aye.” Expression mischievous, he propped himself up on the pillows. “Upon my honor.”

“Well, since your honor is at stake.” Gathering her courage, she stepped in front of the bed. He watched her as if he couldn’t tear his eyes away, as if he didn’t mind that she was, well, a tiny bit plump.

I am beautiful,
she thought, recalling the mantra he’d taught her. Even naked and covered with strawberry jelly. Perhaps stick-thin women were considered malnourished and pathetic on his planet. She grinned at the thought.

“Are you ready for this?” she asked him.

“I have been ready since I first appeared to you.” He crossed his hands behind his head. “You may begin now.”

Lord, help me.
Before she lost her nerve, she performed several moves she’d seen on TV. A high kick. A slash of her arms. She even pretended to chop a block of wood in half. He didn’t laugh. No, when she finished, he growled, “Come do that to me.”

And she did.

Later she found herself once again snuggled into his side. “I do believe you owe me a big, fat description of the women on your planet.”

His deep, rich chuckle filled the room, but his merriment soon faded. An intrinsic sadness overtook him,
a sadness for all he’d lost, perhaps, or for all he would never have. “Best you explain
exactly
what you wish to know, so I do not bore you with minute details.”

“Are all the women as beautiful as Zirra?”

“Zirra is not beautiful. She is ugly. Evil. But nay, most of the women do not resemble her. They come in all different shapes and sizes, colors and temperaments.”

“What about Imperia itself? You’ve spoken of the magic found there, but not about the way you’re governed.”

“There is a Great-Lord who reigns over the mortals, and a High Priest who reigns over the Druinn. Their word is absolute over their people. Then there are the Elite, the soldiers and the serving class. I served my Great-Lord gladly, for he was a wise and just man.”

“So you were a soldier?”

“I was an Elite soldier.”

“And did you, my Elite solider, fight many battles?”

“Aye. You see, at one time the mortals and the Druinn continually warred. Then the two rulers forged a bond of peace, the mortals vowing never to destroy the source of the Druinn powers, the Kyi-en-Tra Crystal, and the Druinn vowing never to hurt the mortals with their magic. Many of the people, both mortal and sorcerer, were against such an alliance, however. Each wanted his own race to rule the other. When I left, a rebellion was brewing.”

“I wonder if it ever erupted and if so, who won,” she said. “The rebels or the kings.”

“The Druinn have many mystical powers, and the mortals outnumber them ten to one. Together, they could
conquer anything, yet they were having trouble quashing this resistance.”

“Did the rebels have some sort of magic weapon?”

“Nay, they were simply more determined than most. And the world was quickly losing its vitality. The continual war between races caused cities to wither and many people to die.” Tristan shifted her more comfortably in his arms. “That which once thrived was quickly losing its resilience, weakening the classes and strengthening the rebels.”

“I’m sorry.”

He gently squeezed her hip. “Before my curse, I had been called by my Great-Lord to fight the Druinn rebels.”

“So you were consorting with your enemy, weren’t you, when you were with Zirra?”

“We were not enemies at the time. Remember, our kings had just become allies. And besides that, I had always considered a woman a woman.”

“And therefore unable to hurt or overpower you, whatever her origins,” Julia finished for him.

He nodded.

“Do you
want
to know what happened to Imperia once you left?”

“Aye. I do. Imperia is still my home.”

Silence ensued.

Julia waited a moment, letting Tristan gather his thoughts, before she spoke again. “One day you might be given a chance to go back, without Zirra’s help, and finish what your king called you to do.”

“Nay,” was all he said.

“Maybe we can find a way,” she persisted, longing to visit Imperia again, on her own terms, to walk through the billowing white grass, to feel the scented breeze. To see Tristan in his natural environment and allow him to finish out his life’s purpose. “Maybe if we found a way, I could go with you.”

“Nay.” Expression dark, muscles clenched, he shook his head. “I will never go back, Julia, for such is my curse. I will speak no more on this subject.”

“Could you go back if the curse were broken?”

He hesitated but finally answered, albeit reluctantly, “Aye.”

“Tristan—”

“Enough,” he said.

He was choosing to remain away from his home because…why? Was he afraid of Zirra? Julia bit back a sigh. If he would only allow himself to love and open his heart to her, the curse
could
be broken and he would never have to deal with Zirra again. How easy. How simple.
Just love me,
she inwardly cried. In his stubbornness concerning matters of the heart, he was forfeiting a life he had obviously adored.

“Are you ready for your shower now?” she asked him, because she didn’t know what else to say.

“Nay. I am ready for
our
shower.”

L
ATER
,
THEY FOUND
themselves in the backyard, a cool breeze dancing around them and muted rays of light fighting for evening dominance. Tristan’s box was still locked inside the planter, where it would stay, giving them both a sense of relief and relaxation. They laughed, played tag and rolled atop a damp red hill. Because of the storm, the ground was soft and wet, and streaked them both with mud and raindrops.

Tristan made a great production out of removing the mud and twigs from Julia’s hair as she struggled to contain her laughter. Each time she smiled, his own lips would stretch, unbidden, into a grin. He did not recall a time in his life when he’d been happier or more carefree than he was at this moment. Like children they were, so lighthearted and vibrant.

When their bodies ached from their antics, they settled on “lounge chairs,” as Julia called them. Lying there in the cold and holding each other to stay warm, he shared memories of his mother and of the trouble in
which he, a precocious and mischievous little toddler, had always found himself. Julia shared her favorite memories with her sister.

“Before my parents split up,” she said, “I once found Faith’s diary, copied the pages and taped them all over the house. I’m still not sure if she’s forgiven me.”

“Cruel, cruel Julia,” he teased.

“I had to do something to make her suffer.” Almost absently, she picked at the ivory buttons on his coat. “My sister had sneaked into my room the night before and cut off all my hair.”

His fingers tangled in the thick mass, angling her head up to face his flashing eyes. “Such a travesty deserved a harsh punishment. You did well.”

He captured her lips with his own then, a hungry kiss that filled his soul and melted his bones.

W
HEN
R
OMULIS APPEARED
to Zirra again, he gripped a turquoise shard of the Kyi-en-Tra Crystal, the source of all their power. Smug secrets danced in the golden depths of his eyes as he angrily faced her.

“Think you Tristan is the only man who can meet your desires?” he growled.

“Aye,” she answered, though a single doubt sprang to life inside her. She hastily tamped it down. “I do,” she said with greater force, more for her own benefit than his.

He blinked, the action somehow highlighting the smugness in his eyes. “Even if I prove beyond a doubt that he hungers for another?”

Her stomach twisted at the thought, yet she had to know. “What have you found?”

“Watch,” he commanded. “See.”

He lifted the prism. With a few muttered words, multiple rays of color exploded toward the ceiling. Red, pink, blue, green, all brilliant and nearly blinding. They whirled together, colliding, mixing, and when they evaporated, she spied Tristan’s image hovering in her air.

Zirra watched him and his
guan ren
play and laugh. Tristan tackled the woman to the ground, twisting in midair to take the brunt of the fall upon himself. The woman smiled up at Tristan. He returned the smile with one of his own, one filled with joy and affection. Then he kissed her hungrily.

Waves of emotion flooded Zirra, a sea of anger and fear, cresting with a relentless desperation so intense she wanted to shout
You belong with me.

“I cast a spell to destroy that woman,” she said through clenched teeth. “Why is she still alive?”

“Your magic was too weak to do much harm.”

“But yours was not, and you helped me with the spell.”

“Nay.” He slowly shook his head. “I only helped you with your powers. I used none of my own.”

Pure hatred filled her. For Romulis or the woman, she wasn’t sure which. “Kill the woman for me, Romulis. Kill her.”

Lethal fury smoldered in his gaze, and he watched her for a prolonged moment. “This is how you react? Do you not see these two are in love?”

“They are not in love, you fool,” she spat. “Otherwise, his spell would be broken.”

“Why can you not forget him?”

Her nails cut into her palm. “I will forget him when I am dead, and no sooner.”

“Mayhap that can be arranged,” he said quietly, deceptively, and strode from the chamber.

Z
IRRA SPENT THE NEXT HOUR
agonizing over exactly how to acquire Tristan. She wanted his box, and to get it, she must first destroy his
guan ren.
But how? How did she accomplish those things when her magic continued to fail her? When Romulis continued to refuse her?

The answer lay in Romulis. He could not refuse her for long, for he had given her his vow. He
must
help her.

Scowling, she prowled through the empty, silent hallways, a meadow of arching walkways, sea-scented air and cool, midnight-colored marble flooring, a direct contrast to the alabaster columns that stretched to the high, high ceilings.

Because she did not acknowledge the
lamori
gems, they ignored her, enveloping her in darkness. But then, she did not need light; she knew the way. Knew all the palace residents slumbered peacefully in their beds. Because of their magic, they assumed no one possessed enough courage to stalk their hallowed halls. That complacency might one day be their downfall, she thought disgustedly.

Finally she reached Romulis’s private passage. She did not bother to announce her presence. She brushed
past the wispy sheers and stormed inside. She stopped abruptly, her eyes widening. Her breath burned in her chest as she drank in the image Romulis presented.

He lounged in his bathwater, head reclined against the rim, dark hair in disarray about his shoulders. How utterly masculine he was. How beautiful.

When he saw her, he unabashedly eased to his feet. Her gaze traveled the length of him, all golden muscle and virile hardness. Rivulets of water trickled down the ridges of his abdomen, pooled in his navel, then caught in the dark curls surrounding his growing cock. He smelled of
elsment,
an aphrodisiac to their people, and she tried to hold her breath against his allure.

“What do you here?” he demanded with a calmness that belied the luminance in his eyes. He stepped from the opal tub and toward the bed where his robe draped the bottom ledge.

Before he reached it, she closed the distance between them and gripped his shoulder. He spun around and faced her. Without a word, she pushed him backward until his knees hit the edge of his bed. And he let her. Though he possessed the physical strength to stop her, he allowed her the final push. He fell, naked, splayed atop the silkiness of the black furs.

Her legs suddenly felt heavy, and she wanted to sink into him. She fought past the urge and glared down at him. “You promised to help me. I demand that you do so.”

“My vow was not offered with a time constraint. I will aid you when I decide, not a moment before.”

“Arr!” she screeched. “You are worse than your father, always trying to thwart me.”

“Why must everything be about you?” Romulis crossed his arms under his head, his expression still relaxed, almost impassive. “What if I collect your debt to me now? What if I demand you forget Tristan and pleasure me?”

“Have you no pride?” she said, the words somehow foul in her mouth. “You would welcome my touch while I imagine you to be another man?”

His nostrils flared and his lips strained over the whiteness of his teeth. “Leave. Now. You are a greater fool than I, and I find I am tired of dealing with you.”

She stormed from the room. If she could not go to Tristan this night, she would just have to find a way to remind him of her ownership.