Braden (2 page)

Chapter Two

“Guess what?” Braden wasn’t in the mood.

Rees kept grinning. “She was pretty.”

“Damn straight she was.”
Too fucking pretty to be stuck
in celibate robes behind a desk.
“And she was nice to me. No, wait—not
nice. Fair. She didn’t like a Shareem in her library but she wanted to honor
the new rules and help me.”

“You liked her.”

“I don’t like thinking about her taking flack for any shit
that comes from this. It’s not her fault she was behind the desk when I walked
in.”

Rees took a sip of ale. “How about if I point out that it’s
highborn women like her who put us in this situation in the first place?”

“Doesn’t help. Besides, you’re talking out your ass, because
your lady Talan is one of the highest of the highborns.”

Rees laughed. Talan d’Urvey was in love with the shithead,
would do anything for him. “Yeah, that’s true. Tell you what. Once things cool
down, you can go back and repay her. Give your librarian a night she’ll never
forget. Be her lifelong guilty secret. Better still, do it in the library after
it’s closed.”

“I can’t,” Braden growled, gripping his ale. “She’s a
celibate.”

“In training?”

“No. She’s already jumped off that cliff. I saw her robes.
The Way of the Something-or-Other. Fully initiated.”

“Now I understand why you’re so tetchy. My advice—go to the
pools, forget Lady Celibate and hook up with a Shareem groupie. Sate yourself,
make your brain stop boiling. You’ll be fine.”

“Fuck you,” Braden said, but in a calmer voice.

Rees was such a hypocrite. If Braden suggested to Rees that
he forget about Talan and get over her by sating himself on a woman who chased
Shareem, Rees would come apart with rage.

Rees was partly right, though. Braden couldn’t have his
librarian. She was celibate, off limits. End of story. He needed to get over
it.

But there was a difference between physical satiation and
being with a lady you wanted to be with.

Braden still wanted to compensate her, though, for what he’d
done. Shareem had been bred in vats by cold-hearted geneticists for other
people’s use. Braden had been experimented on, operated on, stuck full of shots
every time he turned around. He knew what it felt like to be used for other
people’s schemes.

Braden had caused a lot of trouble at DNAmo. He’d resisted
taking his inoculations—which included sedatives and other creative drugs. If a
woman they threw to him for sexual experiments was too afraid of him, Braden
would refuse to touch her. This resulted in punishment—to Braden—but like hell
he’d hurt the lady in question.

The stupid researchers never understood that level three
wasn’t about obedience and pain—it was about care, protection and trust. The researchers
expected to watch Braden put the woman in her place, but it didn’t work that
way. If the lady had real fear, Braden refused to exploit it.

The handlers beat him with shock rods and gave him more
inoculations when he didn’t cooperate, but so be it. Braden was strong enough
to withstand the punishment, but some of the ladies who’d signed up for the
experiments weren’t strong enough to take Braden, and he’d known that.

Shareem were supposed to be docile and do what they were
told, until time to perform whatever sexual acts their clients wanted. Then
they were to be the ultimate sex toy—until playtime was over. Then it was back
to their rooms, sated and obedient.

Yeah, that had worked.

Braden had been created for other people’s use, and the fact
that he had used the pretty librarian left a bad taste in his mouth.

He finished his ale, left the table and made his way across
the room to the little hallway that held Judith’s public terminal. Braden put a
call through to Rylan and asked him to pretty please make him a signing sphere.
A very special one.

* * * * *

Two weeks later, Elisa returned home from her shift at the
library to find an opaque white box sitting on the table in her foyer.

“What’s this?” she asked Alonda, her housekeeper, as the
woman walked briskly through the hall.

Alonda stopped and peered at the crate. “I believe it’s a
box, m’lady.”

“Very funny. Where did it come from?”

“Delivered by mail. Before that, I have no idea.” Alonda
turned away and continued toward her domain in the back of the house, leaving
Elisa alone.

Well, there was only one way to find out. Elisa set down her
bag, slid off her sun-blocking robes, and hung them and her breath mask in the
closet. She touched her thumb to the pad on the crate to indicate that she, the
designated recipient, accepted the package.

Air hissed, and the sides of the crate slid back. Elisa’s
mouth dropped open as she stared at a globe of pure crystal shot through with
myriad colors. A faint hum, a beautiful note, rippled from it.

A singing sphere.

By all that was holy,
a singing sphere
.

It was larger than those she’d seen for sale for stupendous
prices in Serestine Quarter galleries. A white light pulsed at the center of
the globe, as though the heart of the sphere whispered to her.

The crystal had been mounted on a natural stone base,
beautiful sandstone from the desert mountains. Etched into the stone were the
words,
For Elisa n’Arell, with thanks.

She remembered the deep, velvety voice of the Shareem in her
library, the Shareem she’d thought about every minute of every day since she’d
met him.

My friend makes them,
he’d said in an offhanded way
about the singing spheres, his blue eyes mesmerizing. And Elisa had said,
I’ve
always wanted one.

Elisa hadn’t told the Shareem her name. But the information
wouldn’t have been difficult for him to discover. She was listed at the front
door of the library as well as on the library’s fact site as head of reference,
and she’d been sitting at the reference desk.

How the Shareem had discovered her name wasn’t a mystery.
Why he’d sent the sphere
was
.

Elisa reached out and touched the crystal.

The sphere whispered with sound, growing more musical by the
second. Ripples filled the air like a sweet chime. Beautiful.

This was an exquisite work of art, and worth a fortune. The
Shareem had simply given it to her.

Alonda hurried back into the room. “M’lady, what—” She
stopped. “Oh, how lovely. The Way of the Sky let you buy this? How nice of
them.”

“No, it’s a gift. To me. For something I did for someone at
the library.”

Alonda looked impressed. “Generous. It will look nice in
that nook.” She pointed to a bare niche across from the front door. “Always
thought that wall was too blank.”

“I shouldn’t keep it.” But it would break Elisa’s heart to
let it go.

Part of taking the robes in the Way of the Sky meant living
simply—for Bor Nargan women, this meant a house smaller than a mansion and a
staff of only two or three. The women of the Way were to meet basic needs
comfortably but without ostentation. Elisa was fine with the restrictions,
liking her small house with its clean design and empty spaces. It was peaceful.

Singing spheres were considered luxuries. They were
hideously expensive and entirely impractical. But so beautiful.

Alonda lifted the sphere in its base, carried it to the
niche and set it inside. “There. That looks nice.” She dusted off her hands
then took up the empty crate and carried it away.

Elisa studied the sphere as the waves of music sweetened the
room. An amazing gift.

She walked down the hall to her study and sat at her
terminal. Typing in her personal code, she gained clearance to the Ministry of
Non-Human Life Forms’ database, and called up the files on Shareem.

* * * * *

“Braden’s House of Sex,” Braden rumbled as he keyed on his
terminal. “I know all your desires and how to make them real— Well, shit
.
”

He was staring into the brown eyes of Elisa n’Arell, the
pretty librarian who’d filled Braden’s dreams for the last two weeks with the
dirtiest fantasies he’d ever conceived.

His mouth went dry. “Hey there, sweetheart. You found me.”

Elisa wet her lips, making him want to reach through the
terminal and wet them for her. “You sent me the singing sphere.”

“Guilty.”

“Why?”

Braden made himself shrug. “You said you wanted one and I
can get them, easy.”

“But you shouldn’t have.”

Elisa didn’t say that in the pleased way a woman tittered
over a bauble—
Oh, you shouldn’t have!
Elisa really meant that Braden
shouldn’t have done it.

“If you refuse it you’ll offend Rylan,” Braden said. “He
made it especially for you. Plus, you’ll offend
me
, who bribed him into
doing it. I might have to spank you, darlin’.”

He could feel her sweet ass under his palm already. Firm
little buttocks, oh, so good. She’d squirm and squeal, and her skin would turn
so prettily pink.

Elisa did the lip-wetting thing again. “I want to meet you.”

Hell yes.

Except—celibate. Forbidden. “Come on, sweet baby, don’t
tease your Shareem.”

“I meant that I want to talk to you. Where can we meet?”

In my bedroom, in an alley, in a garden. Wherever you
want, honey.
“Your library’s a good place.”

“No,” she said quickly. “And not my house, either. Someplace
neutral.”

Nothing was neutral when a Shareem was involved.

Having the librarian come to Pas City where Braden lived was
a bad idea. Not only might the slums scare a sweetie like her away, Rees
wouldn’t be happy. The last two weeks had been quiet—no patrollers questioning
why Braden had been to an uptown library, no one connecting the information
Braden had snagged from the library terminal to Shareem. But still, Rees wanted
to be careful. Which made sense, because their lives were on the line. All
Shareem lives.

Rees, damn you, the things I do for you.

“Tell you what, darlin’,” Braden said. “I’ll grab a train
and head up the hill to Serestine Station B and wait for you there. The last
train back down leaves at midnight—if I don’t see you by then, I get on the
train and go home, no questions asked. All right?”

They’d be in public so she wouldn’t worry about him
ravishing her. Shareem couldn’t touch a lady until she gave him
permission—programming again—but not everyone believed that.

The station was also a place where Elisa could remain robed
and veiled, anonymous. If she got cold feet and wanted to back out, Braden
would simply go home. Nothing lost.

Except a chance to see her again.

Elisa nodded, looking almost pleased. “An excellent idea. I
will see you there.”

She signed off, leaving Braden to gaze at a blank screen.

His dirty fantasies reared their ugly heads again. Sex in a
public place was fucking exciting, the possibility of being caught adding to
the fun. Serestine Station B had nooks and crannies everywhere.

Elisa was celibate, sure, but that didn’t mean Braden
couldn’t dream about being with her. He’d get her in a corner, hidden from the
platform, and slide her robes off. Next her dress or whatever she wore
underneath, until she stood naked against the painted wall. Her nipples would
be dark and tight against creamy skin, her pussy already wet, moisture on her
curls.

She’d smile at him with her pretty mouth while Braden
commanded her to get on her knees. She’d do it, and then he’d order her to put
that mouth on his cock.

He’d stand with his back to the station, screening her from
view while she closed silken lips around him. She’s suck, lick, nibble, her
hands stealing up to cup his ass.

Braden would stroke her hair, gently move his hips back and
forth, back and forth. He’d watch her eyes close, her lips move on his cock,
her tongue swipe around the tip. It would feel so fucking good, her mouth wet
and hot, the suckling making him want to come and come.

She’d open her eyes and smile up at him, cock still full in
her mouth. Braden would loosen her hair until it spread over her bare back,
sinking his fingers into its softness. Elisa’s fingers would bite into his ass,
and then she’d snake one finger to his anus, sliding it inside just enough to
make him wild.

Fucking good.

Too good. Braden’s man was standing tall, pissed off at him
for thinking about what he couldn’t have.

Jerking off would release him, but Braden’s hand was
becoming boring company. It never laughed at his jokes or made good
conversation. He could find another female—Judith, maybe, who was always
willing to help a Shareem release—but Braden didn’t like to think about one
woman when he was with another. Unfair to all members of the equation.

Braden stripped off his tunic and loincloth, took up the
bottle of lube always kept handy and squirted some onto his cock.

“Elisa,” he whispered as he smoothed the lube onto his
erection. His fingers soothed him slightly, but not enough. They’d never be
enough.

Braden moved his closed hand up to his tip, tickling the
slit with his thumb before sliding back down. He got off the chair, put one
foot up on the table and glided his hand down to his balls, which were hard and
tight, hot.

He patted his balls a little, trying to comfort himself, but
nothing was working. He ran the heel of his hand up his cock again, closing his
fist around it when he reached the top.