TICEES (49 page)

Chelan cringed. “I … I …”

He gritted his teeth. “You engaged me first, my Lady.” His voice was deep and restrained.

“That’s not true,” she whimpered.

“You never had to touch me! But you did!” he boomed.

Chelan hugged herself tighter, choking on her words. “I … I … you asked … Korba’s men never—”

Ticees leapt to his feet in a rage. “I’m not Iceanean!” he shouted.

“And I’m not yours,” she shouted back.

Ticees was furious, his chance to inseminate her consensually ripped from him through her ridiculous adherence to illogical values. There wasn’t a woman in the Empire who wouldn’t give anything to partake in his favors, yet the one he wanted the most stubbornly refused. He rounded the bed and grabbed her arms roughly, shaking her. “If you are Korba’s, my Lady, why do you lie with Fremma and Dar? I have witnessed your dealings with both, so tell me!”

Chelan’s eyes widened with terror, and she was unable to answer.

“Why?” he seethed, shaking her again.

“It is their way,” she uttered.

“And it is mine!” he shouted. “You will sleep with me tonight!”

Her eyes bulged. “No,” she gasped. “I sleep with them willingly. It is my choice. I do not choose to sleep with you.”

Ticees was beyond control, his rage unbridled, his mental and physical discipline fragmented. “It will be your choice tonight, my Lady.” He raised her up and then threw her down on the bed. He straddled her, crushing her with his weight and bruising her wrists with his grip. “It will be your choice, for if you do not come to my bed willingly, you will never see your precious Warlord again!”

Chelan’s face paled. “You can’t do that,” she croaked.

“I can’t?” he shouted venomously. “Who do you think orders whom? Who do you think serves whom? And who do you think has the power to send him running throughout the galaxy, year after year on mission after mission? Who?” he demanded, shaking her violently. “Toran’s last mission lasted four years. Four long Iceanean years. I could easily string a few of those together, my Lady, and if he managed to survive battle after grueling battle, he would still never set foot on his home planet again!”

Ticees rose up off her, releasing her as he finally concealed himself in his pants. “Tonight!” he shouted. “You be here, and you be willing … or Korba is dead!”

Ticees grabbed his jacket and shroud, flying from the room in unrestrained anger.

Chelan was stunned. She lay unmoving and unfeeling. She tried to think, but her mind was numb. Then she took several deep, sobbing breaths. It had happened. It had finally happened, as she knew it would. He was going to have his way. He was going to force her to be his by threatening her with Korba’s loss.

Chelan rose slowly, wincing in pain, her arms bruised. She had no choice. Suddenly, she knew. It was all so obvious. She had to lie with Ticees to save her beloved Korba. It was as simple as that.

She stood on weak and unstable legs, and she moaned at the ache across her body. She started to shuffle toward the door, her only goal right now to scour Ticees from her body. She walked back stiffly to her chambers, and only then did she allow her tears to flow freely. She slumped to her knees and buried her face in her hands. “Oh please, Korba, forgive me. I do this for you,” she wailed. And she cried for a long time, her suffering and torment gushing forth unabated.

Chelan spent the rest of the day soaking in a warm bath, her emotions drained, her tears spent. Ticees was a barbarian, and she wondered why he differed so vastly from the men who served him. Chelan was well aware that the three Warlords were also brutal, for their life’s course was to rain death upon others, but the Iceanean men could separate their careers from their personal lives. Maybe it was genetics, or maybe it was simply a matter of control. After all, Korba had struck her. But then Chelan smiled to herself. The women in his world were considered equals in every sense of the word, and she had struck him first. Deep down she knew that he had not intended to hit her so hard, and god knows she had pressed him to a point far beyond most people’s tolerances.

Chelan sank lower into the tub. She wondered why she found the idea of sleeping with Ticees so vile. Korba accepted her pursuits with Fremma, and by their ways, Ticees would simply be another temporary physical pleasure. If anything, Korba would probably want her to find solace in someone, especially since she was so alone.

But Chelan couldn’t do it. Ticees was different. He was not Iceanean. He may have publicly embraced Iceanean values, but Chelan now knew that he did not always follow them. He had manipulated her, and none of the Iceanean men had ever done that. And now she had learned yet another brutal lesson sexually. Her participation with him was not as an equal. She was a subordinate to be used as he saw fit for his own gratification. Chelan had often felt powerless and at the mercy of Korba, his sheer size and strength intimidating her. But it was a figment of her own imagination, for never once had he compromised her in any way or engaged her for his own needs exclusively. He had always sought her consent for any act, and no matter how aggressive he had become, he had never once come close to hurting her. But Ticees was totally different in every way. Tonight he would loom over her like a harbinger of death, taking from her what he wanted, filling her with pain and guilt.

Chelan understood that the Warlords had no reason to distrust him. Ticees needed them, and they were powerful men, never to be compromised in any way least he compromise his own position. But it was different with her. He did not need her for anything, and her feelings and her body were expendable. It was now that she realized that the nightmare she had had so long ago was a premonition of the horror to come. Ticees was the nemesis that haunted her in her sleep, and now he would terrorize her by day.

Chelan crawled lifelessly from the tub. It was well past the dinner hour, but Chelan knew that if she ate, she would be sick. She walked into the bedroom and began slipping into her gown. Suddenly, she thought of Fremma’s blades. Chelan took several deep breaths before she shook her head at her unexpectedly violent thoughts. It would serve him right to be run through for what he was about to do. His death would be more than justified. But her death would also be assured, and by that she knew that she would destroy Korba, and she pushed the thoughts of the weapons from her mind.

Finally, it was time, and she took a deep breath. To her, her chances of survival depended not so much on what was about to happen, but on how long she could endure it. And tonight was not going to be the only test of endurance. She had yet to learn how often she was expected to be of service to him. This was not going to be a one-time experience—of that she had no doubt.

Suddenly, she teetered and grabbed for the nightstand to steady herself. What was to come of all of this upon Korba’s return? Would Ticees give up his new sexual prize? And even if she did get a reprieve, what would she be expected to do when Korba left again? Her head spun.

She closed her eyes and tried to find a way out of her predicament. Could she go to the guards? Could she go to Stose? Or would confiding in others only get them killed? Seeking help was not an option. Who would listen to her when pitted against the word of a galactic Emperor?

Finally straightening herself, she began her journey toward Ticees’ chambers, praying that he had reconsidered his actions and come to his senses. If not, all she had to do was lie there as quietly and as limply as possible. She would not participate in any way. And she would not struggle. He was going to take her regardless, and fighting would only increase her physical pain.

Chelan entered unannounced and found Ticees sitting on the edge of his bed, his shoulders slumped and his head lowered into his hands. Chelan stood very still, trying hard not to tremble. “My Lord,” she whispered.

Ticees was startled by her voice, and he jumped to his feet. He looked at her, his expression unreadable.

Chelan immediately looked down and clenched her fists, her composure slipping already. She heard him approaching her, and her trembling increased. She did not want to be hurt; it was as simple as that.

Ticees stood before her, his eyes studying her. “I’m sorry about this afternoon, Chelan.” His voice was quiet.

Chelan refused to look at him. “Yet you choose to repeat your actions tonight,” she muttered.

Ticees reached for her chin and forced her to look at him, his eyes pleading with her. “No, I do not. I wish you to make love to me willingly, my Lady. I do not want our bonding to be unpleasurable.”

Chelan set her jaw. “I will lie with you, my body accepting whatever you force upon me, but my mind will be far from willing and my heart will be cold. I do this for Korba, not for you, my Lord.”

Ticees released her and turned from her, throwing his head back. His eyes scanned the ceiling futilely. “I love you, Chelan,” he finally admitted in a whisper. “I do not wish to hurt you, but you frustrate me so.” He turned around and faced her. “I could offer you the Empire and so much more. You have but to ask, and to be my willing partner.”

Chelan was rendered motionless. She had always thought that he had wanted only her body, desiring her for her femininity and no more. But the shock of this revelation did not change her feelings toward him. He said he did not wish to hurt her, yet she knew he would. He said that he loved her, but that love was corrupt.

“Dar loved me, and he cared for me for almost two Earth years. He slept by my side at night and held me during the day. He expressed his wish to make love to me countless times, and I engaged him fully in sexual play numerous times, too many to count. But he never entered me once. He respected my wishes. I may have frustrated him, my Lord, but never once did he stoop to the violent act of rape.”

Ticees closed his eyes and flinched at her crippling stab. “Is that what you are calling tonight?” he asked, his voice quiet and pained.

“What would you call it, my Lord? You will not be holding a knife at my throat, and I will not struggle, but you take me against my will, knowing full well I do not wish to participate. That, Sire, is rape.”

“You may turn around and leave at any time!” his voiced boomed. “That is your will! That is not rape!”

Chelan cringed. “You use coercion to keep me here. That is not my will!”

Ticees gathered himself and calmed his festering emotions. He stared at her as his jaw worked. “Earlier, I kissed you. You have touched me, caressed me. Was any of that so unpleasurable?”

Chelan looked down and hugged her self. “I … touched you … I did not caress you … there was no sexual intent.”

“Was any of it unpleasurable?” he demanded again harshly.

“No, my Lord,” she whispered almost inaudibly. “But I did not want it to go further.”

“And it did not!”

Chelan glanced at him. “But you tried!” she shot at him.

Ticees narrowed his eyes. “And none of your men ever tried?”

Chelan went to form a rebuttal, but she was simply too exhausted to even think of something to say.

Ticees smirked at her. Then he pivoted from her and walked to his table and poured a glass of liqueur. Slowly, he returned to her, his face solemn. “Here,” he said, passing her the drink. “This will help.”

Chelan’s stomach suddenly turned, and her eyes filled. She looked at the drink and reached for it, her chin beginning to quiver. She took the glass with trembling hands. “Then you choose to proceed?”

Ticees sighed. “Yes. I choose to make love to you. And you choose to make love to me for whatever reason you can fathom. I am not going to hurt you. And when the night is over, you will wonder why you ever resisted.”

Chelan felt her knees weaken, and her tears flowed freely. She watched as Ticees turned and walked over to the bed. He began removing his jacket, and she closed her eyes, clutching at her convulsing stomach with her free hand. Somehow, some way, she had felt that he would spare her, but now that she was confronted with certain reality, she wondered if indeed she would survive. Maybe it was to her advantage to fight him in hopes that he would kill her, sparing her from the devastating emotional pain that his repugnant act would inflict upon her.

Ticees remained with his back to her, his upper body bare. “Come here,” he ordered.

Chelan took several tentative steps toward him, her breathing labored. She wanted to plead with him, but she knew it would be to no avail. She moved up behind him, but still he did not look at her.

“Drink your drink,” he commanded dryly.

Chelan cleared her tears so that she could see. She looked down at the drink. She lifted the glass, trying to hold her hand steady, and then she poured the alcohol down her throat, not bothering to taste it.

Ticees hung his head. “It doesn’t have to be this way, Chelan,” he whispered.

Chelan sank to the bed silently, her tears running down her neck and soaking her gown. “Then let me go freely, with no threat to Korba.”

Ticees exhaled, his heart saying one thing, his mind another. He turned to her and knelt before her. His eyes pleaded with hers. “Please, Chelan. I will give you the Empire. You can rule it by my side. Everything that is mine will be yours.”