TICEES (31 page)

“Duct tape?”

Chelan finally smiled. “I love you so much,” she whispered.

“And I love you, Chelan, for exactly who you are right now. You know I never lie.” He released his intense grip on her arms and drew her back to his chest. He felt her go limp in his arms, and he leaned his head back and looked up at the ceiling. He hoped with all his heart that Ticees had gotten everything out of his system because there was no way he was going to let the Emperor take another swing at Chelan. Once was more than enough, and if Ticees dared to begin his armchair personality analysis again, the man would meet his Prime Warlord’s wrath directly. Chelan was just getting her feet under her, and he was not going to let anyone set her back, and that included the Lord God Emperor.

Korba looked back down at her, realizing she was nearly asleep, forced into drowsiness by the day’s events and capped off by Ticees’ emotional assault. She had been pushed to her absolute limits. “Chelan,” he whispered.

“Hmmm …”

“You do not have to attend the meal. You can stay with Fremma if you wish.”

He felt her fingers press affectionately into his chest, and she tilted her head up, kissing his firm lips tenderly. “Thank you,” she uttered sleepily.

Korba smiled. He did not mind her absence, and in fact, he had hoped she would remain with Fremma. Dealing with Ticees again and having Dar present at the same time would indeed do her in.

He hugged her tight, languishing in her sweet scent, and wishing he could have spent the entire afternoon making love to her. But there would be lots of time over the next week, and he would spend as much of it with her as possible.

Korba held her until he was sure she was asleep, and then he moved her to his giant bed. He laid her down among the numerous pillows and looked longingly at her. Ticees was right. Korba loved her as she was, inadequacies and all. He wished that she would become more assertive and self-confident for her own sake, but as far as their relationship, Korba had already decided that she was perfect.

His eyes ran down her slender feminine frame, and he felt warm. Slowly, he moved his hand to her slim abdomen, and pressed into her soft flesh. Instantly, he was overcome with emotion as he thought of his child within her, and he closed his eyes. “Oh, my pretty woman, how I love you,” he whispered. “You are my beating heart.”

Korba lingered a while longer and then covered her cool body with several blankets. Standing, he looked over at her once again, suddenly struck by her vulnerability. He took a deep and uneasy breath. “I pray that that you will be safe for all time, my Lady,” and he turned quickly to seek Dar. For reasons he could not explain, he felt an urgent need to alert him to Ticees, for Chelan’s sake.

Korba spoke to Dar about Chelan’s elusive fears pertaining to Ticees and then alerted Fremma. Returning to his chambers, he found Chelan was still asleep, and when the dinner hour arrived, he simply slipped out and left her in Fremma’s capable care.

The dinner was superb, and the meal period was long. Later, they retired to Ticees’ chambers where Dar and Korba and the Emperor whiled away the hours, talking easily of war and the Empire’s future plans. Korba filled him in on the finer details of the Rigilean mission, and as the late hours of night turned into early morning, both Warlords lay back comfortably, laughing and engaging in light conversation with Ticees. For the first time since his return, Korba felt like his old self in Ticees’ presence, and he enjoyed each other men’s company immensely.

Ticees noticed a shift in Korba’s mood as the night wore on. He was well aware that the Warlord’s initial subdued demeanor was because Chelan’s safety and well-being weighed heavily on his mind. Ticees was beginning to empathize with Korba’s fervent protectiveness over the small alien, for he himself had been unexpectedly struck earlier in the day by his own disproportionately powerful feelings toward her.

He had found himself looking forward to dinner, hoping to make amends for his previous poor behavior. And he had been surprised by the intensity of his disappointment when Dar and Korba arrived without her. He had asked no questions, knowing all too well why Korba had chosen to exclude her from the evening’s get-together. But once again, Ticees had been rendered uneasy by his heightened emotional reaction to the woman, even though she had been in his presence for only the briefest time. As the reunion with his men progressed, he found the demure beauty intruding upon his thoughts with disturbing frequency, but he dared not speak of her.

Eventually, his thoughts took on a slightly more sinister flavor. He wondered if he were actually taken by her as a predator would be to prey. And taking into account his fiercely competitive nature, did he simply want what his best friend had? Then there was the additional quandary proposed by the fact that the woman had seduced three of the most important men in the galaxy. Obviously there was something about her that he had not yet experienced that had caused three such powerful men to fall under her bewitching spell. Whatever it was—the challenge, the mystery, or his finely-honed predator instincts—he desired a sampling of her hidden treasures, just a small taste of whatever potion she possessed that ensnared his men so completely.

But as the dawn approached, Ticees finally managed to squeeze all the images of Chelan from his mind, forcing himself to concentrate on his men. All had been lulled into mutual feelings of comradery and relaxation, spawned by close friendship, good conversation, and much good drink.

As the morning light descended on the Empire, Korba sprang to his feet, acutely aware of the long time he had been away from Chelan.

Ticees rose to face him, sensing his concern, and knowing exactly where and to whom it was directed.

“You will excuse me, my Lord,” Korba said. “The dinner was outstanding, and your company was equally pleasing. But now I must return to my chambers.”

Ticees nodded. “I understand, my friend. If I had a woman as beautiful as Chelan waiting for me, why, I would have returned to my chambers hours ago.”

All three men chuckled, and Korba embraced his friend. He then turned to both of them and bade them farewell.

*****

Korba was anxious about Chelan, but upon entering his room he was rendered motionless by her absence. Suddenly, the all-too-familiar pit formed in his stomach as his thoughts turned to Fremma. He hesitated and then shook his head hard, angered at himself for his primitive feelings. He had asked Fremma to care for her, and that included any way that Chelan chose to be cared for, which in turn included in Fremma’s bed. Korba had no right to feel jealous, and he threw his head back, sending his long black mane flying as he drew a deep and calming breath.

Slowly he walked to his bed and removed his shroud. He sat down heavily and rubbed his weary eyes. He needed sleep, but he knew it would not come without his beautiful woman by his side. He stood, unsure of his next move.

Instantly, before his mind had even made a conscious decision, he was in motion toward Fremma’s quarters, summoning all his strength and control as he went. He knew all too well the violent emotions that could consume him if he found them coupled, but he hoped he would have the restraint and the brains to control his rage.

He steeled himself as he entered unannounced, and both Fremma and Chelan turned in their respective chairs to greet him. Korba sighed with relief, his smile broad and warm in response to Chelan’s radiant face.

“Good morning, my Lord,” responded Fremma as he rose from his chair. “I hope your evening went well?”

“Yes, it did,” replied Korba, his voice light.

Chelan stood, walking to him with her usual sensual grace and elegance, and she hugged him tightly.

Korba felt weakened by her embrace, and his heart swelled with love like nothing before. Chelan pushed away and looked up at him. “I have a problem here with Fremma,” she pouted.

“Oh,” smiled Korba. “What is it?”

Chelan glanced at Fremma. “Well, it seems that our friend here is still sore over the fact that I obliterated him and his forces in that war game we were engaged in upon your arrival home. So we’ve been playing another one, one he selected, and I’m afraid that he’s just lost all etiquette and sense of fair play.”

Korba laughed. “Ah, I see,” he said. “Let me guess. I assume that your forces are getting their proverbial butts kicked.”

Chelan remained silent, letting the two men laugh for a while before she continued. “So I thought that you might lend me a hand.”

“Oh, right!” shouted Fremma. “Go over my head and right to the top. Why don’t you just accept defeat like a good commander and be done with the whole thing?”

Korba attempted to collect himself. “Which game did you select?”

Fremma went silent, and Korba’s eyes widened. He thought that he could actually detect a subtle flushing to Fremma’s skin. Korba took Chelan by the hand and approached the warrior, a large smile creeping across the Warlord’s face. “Well?” he pressed.

Fremma hesitated. “The Sabonyee Game, my Lord.”

Korba’s eyes lit. “Which scenario?”

Fremma shifted his weight and then glanced into Chelan’s expectant face. “Number Five, Sire.”

Korba raised an eyebrow. “And how is my Lady doing?”

Fremma cleared his throat. “Surprisingly well, my Lord. In fact, about the best of any person I have trained.”

Korba nodded. “How far along are you?”

“About two-thirds of the way through.”

“And how many troops does she have left?”

Fremma glanced at Chelan, and then back to Korba. “About a hundred and fifty thousand, my Lord.”

Korba straightened, his face betraying his surprise. Slowly, he looked to Chelan. “Well, my Lady,” he began quietly. “I hardly think that you require any help.”

Chelan stepped back from the two, eyeing them warily. “All right, what’s going on here? I get the impression I’ve been had.”

Both Fremma and Korba began to laugh, and Chelan put her hands on her hips, waiting for them to calm down. “Okay, let’s have it!” she shouted.

“Chelan,” began Korba, attempting unsuccessfully to regain control of himself. “The Sabonyee scenario Number Five is a no-win battle situation. It is a theoretical battle presented to new warriors to show them what type of situation never to get themselves into.”

Chelan turned away from him and began to stalk Fremma.

“I’m sorry,” blurted Fremma, raising his arms in submission. “I just wanted to teach you a lesson, but you were doing admirably, my Lady.”

Chelan’s eyes were ablaze, a sly grin gracing her lips just as she sprang at him, catching him by surprise. Her full weight hit his midsection, driving him to the floor with her on top. “You were going to—” she began, her hands pressing into his throat. “The stakes were … you deceived me!” she hollered.

Fremma grabbed her hands from his throat. “I’m sorry,” he gasped. “It’s just that I had to win. The stakes were beyond my wildest dreams.”

Chelan interrupted him, slapping her hand over his mouth as her face pinked. “You say one more thing, my friend,” she whispered, half laughing, “and you will die a not-so-peaceful death, and soon.”

Korba’s laughter suddenly ceased. “Uh huh? So what are these stakes that make my lovely lady squirm so much?”

Chelan pushed herself away from Fremma and knelt by his side. The warrior looked up at her. “Well, come on, tell him.”

“No!” she emphasized. “You forfeit the game with your deceit. The stakes are therefore withdrawn.”

“Well then,” he beamed, “I will tell him.”

“No!” shouted Chelan, jumping to her feet.

“No?” he repeated. “But Korba is involved, so you should at least inform—”

“No!” she asserted, shoving him back down to the floor.

Chelan turned to run, but Fremma caught her ankle and dragged her to him. “I see that your ability to escape me has not improved with time,” he laughed. Then he stood, lifting her to her feet and placing her in front of Korba. He held her shoulders firmly. “Now, tell him what spoils were to be claimed if I won.”

“If you won?” Chelan squeaked, trying to twist away. “Apparently you could not lose!”

“Okay!” shouted Korba, still trying to contain himself. “Chelan, just tell me what you promised.”

Chelan wriggled under Fremma’s grip, her chest heaving from exertion and her skin reddening. “Fremma had said …” She hesitated, looking up at Korba. “Actually, Dar had said that it was not unusual for your people...” She folded her arms across her chest. “Actually, on Earth, some people also …”

Chelan straightened her shoulders and attempted to continue. “I told Fremma that if he won, that someday I would … I mean, that someday we would—” She stopped in exasperation and looked into Korba’s expectant face. Turning, she peered up at Fremma, his eyes jubilant, his every feature telling her that he was enjoying her discomfort immensely.

She looked back at Korba and smirked. “I told him that I would let, or rather, that the three of us would get together.” She heard Fremma chuckle, and she wished that she could turn around and slap him. Slowly, she looked back up into Korba’s brilliant eyes, a surprised smile gracing his lips.