Insatiable (7 page)

Status. Ha! She’d have loved to have been able to have the chance to be divested of her virginity long ago.

Since she’d reached sexual maturity she’d been watched closely. Except for those little forays through the secret passageways there’d been no opportunity to even
try
to have sex with anyone but herself. She couldn’t bring anyone back there, or she’d risk exposing the only private way to move around undetected.

Even if she
had
found a way to meet someone for a secret assignation, no male worth having sex with would have dared it. Her father had people executed for far less serious offenses than fucking his daughter. The most exciting thing she’d ever shared with a boy was a kiss, and that had been deliciously fleeting.

Still, at that moment she was quite relieved for all that history. Hartley wanted to
breach her womanhood
. She shuddered at the phrase, the one he’d just moments ago uttered in her ear, his disgusting, hot breath on her skin. She may not have been an expert at love play, but she had the feeling those men who’d use the phrase
breach her womanhood
would be terrible sex partners.
This
man seemed to like that she’d been uncomfortable, which only made her want to vomit more.

“We’re having a delegation from some of the outer ’Verses this evening. Carina, please do join us so that we may announce your upcoming nuptials.” Her father would naturally be pleased by this news. It would give him the opportunity to be worshipped and celebrated.

She, by contrast, was not pleased. This meant she’d have to spend interminable hours with Alem as he pawed at her and made lewd comments about her womanhood to people under his breath.

Hartley gave a hearty laugh as he petted her hand and wrist. “Yes, sweet flower, do so that I may show off the bounty of my future bride to all.”

Sweet flower?
She managed to smile even as she wanted to sneer. She’d never met anyone who actually spoke like that. There was no way around it, so she nodded. Where was her rescue? It had been a standard week already! If they didn’t hurry, she’d have to marry and consummate with this beast, or throw herself out a window to escape it.

What she’d seen earlier that day only made the vision of her future worse. Dread numbed her fingertips. She was twenty-three standard years old. A virgin. Unmarried. Trapped in a house with her mother and her insane father who’d sold her off to a crazy, violent man bent on breaching her
whatever
. It was a waste of time to feel sorry for herself. She couldn’t solve anything that way, but right then she veered perilously close to self-pity.

She needed to begin to face the fact that help may not arrive until after the marriage. She’d keep an eye on the door for her rescuers, but she began to try to figure out what to do if they didn’t show.

 

 

M
ortimer Silas entered the Fardelle compound with an entourage and a well-practiced walk. He was a fancy man, and this place was . . . not. Caelinus was provincial for a supposed capital ’Verse. And hot. Gods, it was ridiculously hot, and he could not understand why Fardelle would choose to settle the home ’Verse here in a place with not just one relentless sun, but two. It had slowed their travel down as they could find no one willing to make the journey from the portal to the compound at full day. They’d been stuck in a receiving room until the suns began to set. The heat made his hair less attractive than normal, made him sweat. No one looked handsome covered in sweat.

He had no desire to spend a moment longer than necessary here. He’d pay his respects, gather his due and get out. Get back home and be finished with this trip.

Unfortunately, he had not anticipated the dinner being held in honor of the visiting ministers from other Imperial ’Verses. The last thing he wanted to do after the trial of just getting to Caelinus was to sit around eating horrible food, rubbing elbows with people he’d rather kill than drink with. It was supposed to be a brief meet and greet, bow and scrape thing. He hoped he had the right ensemble for the dinner. He’d beg off and keep to his rooms or find a way to leave early, but it was clearly mandatory, and this was Ciro Fardelle, after all.

He found the reality of Ciro Fardelle far more absurd than he could have imagined. A tyrant was one thing; a stupid tyrant seemingly wedded to dragging them into a war with the Federation for no apparent reason and with no chance of winning was another. He was a fool, and why they all suffered this one for so long wasn’t something he understood.

Mortimer was a man who appreciated details, so he kept a close eye on things as they were brought from the guest quarters into the main hall where the family lived and where Fardelle had his offices and receiving chamber. Gleaming black surfaces did please the eye and give a grand feel to the space. If Fardelle didn’t have more delusions of power than taste, the place would be far more pleasant. Everything about the compound shouted of trying too hard.

The windows overlooking the secured courtyard were large and tinted to keep the heat out but to let in the light. Plasglass, he surmised. There was fortification on the outer walls and windows facing the town, surrounding dunes and vistas off in the distance toward the portal. Armed guards patrolled in thick formation, on foot, in vehicles and on horseback. Mortimer watched, took in their rather obvious timing, as they all waited for Fardelle to swan around the room like someone who mattered.

Once they’d finally made it through the receiving line of lesser nobles and lackeys to their supreme commander, Mortimer was able to get a clear look at Carina Fardelle. Her mother and Ciro’s primary wife, Esta, sat with her at the far dais.

Esta was small in stature and in presence. Once reputed to have been a great beauty, she kept her eyes down most of the time, her hands clasped in her lap as she perched in the space next to her husband. The second wife sat a bit lower, and where Esta had been small, Aila looked defeated. This was not a woman who’d schemed her way into Ciro’s bed for the power and position of giving him an heir. This was a girl younger than his daughter who’d been plucked from her home and given to the supreme commander to do with what he wished. Mortimer found that . . . tawdry. Once a man settled, he should stay that way. Women were not chattel; they were precious and deserved to be honored, not demeaned. Fardelle was as poor a man as he was a leader.

They’d been informed that the evening’s events were also a celebration of the betrothal of Carina Fardelle and Hartley Alem. Alem was a lump of a man with a heart as dark as any he’d ever known. What would Carina see in such a man? Was she like her mother? Aila? One of countless females across the ’Verses whose lives were simply a matter of following direction from the males in their lives? He looked at her again, contrasted against her mother, and thought not.

Carina was different from every woman in that room. Cool. Regal. Hair as pale as moonlight bound up in some ridiculously complicated hairstyle one of her retinue created for her. She looked soft, but her eyes were hard. Despite his unease about what her motivations were and the kind of person she most likely was, there was no denying her beauty. She was not petite like her mother; instead, she was long and lithe. He imagined she’d walk like music played in her head. And she was set to marry Hartley Alem, who couldn’t keep his gaze off his future bride, though, to Mortimer’s eyes, she did not share that enthusiasm. Or maybe she did, and that’s how she showed it.

He shook his head and squared his shoulders. Whatever the case, her marital status was none of his concern. What she was like, who she was, was not his business. He was not there for that.

His man adjusted his cape as Mortimer discreetly checked to be sure his rings looked just so. The gems needed to catch the light to be their most attractive. He’d waxed down his mustache just before arriving, so he knew that would look most fetching as well. If he had to be bored and tossed in with villains and idiots, at the very least, he could look good doing it.

“Supreme Commander Fardelle, may I present Mortimer Silas, the ministerial representative from Caldara.” The sergeant at arms bowed, and Mortimer stood forward, bowing deeply himself. It wasn’t quite to his knees—Fardelle didn’t deserve it—but it made Mortimer look regal, or so he’d always thought when he looked into the mirrors in his home.

“It is a great pleasure to meet you, Supreme Commander.” Mortimer used his best, most oily voice to soothe the man before him.

Hartley Alem stood between them as Fardelle nodded and moved on.

“Of course it is. We all share that great honor. Mortimer, I’m told your delegation was waylaid earlier on the way here by brigands. I trust all is well?”

Yes that. It had worked out quite well in the end. “Just a minor inconvenience with pirates. Pirates in our own territories. I’m sure it’s that rabble from the Edge coming here to terrorize us. They won’t be terrorizing anyone again, I promise you. My people are all very good with weapons.” There hadn’t been a single person left alive.

“Good to hear. We need to be vigilant in our self-defense against the vulgarity of the Federation. Your tribute has been received, and we shall continue to endeavor to protect your people.” With that canned and emotionless commentary, Alem turned and held a hand out toward the dais. “Please do meet my lovely betrothed, Carina Fardelle.”

An average man would have missed the slight narrow-eyed glare of disgust, just a brief, fleeting expression before her smile settled onto her mouth but not her eyes. This was no empty-headed woman. He hadn’t expected that.

She moved to them with the grace he’d predicted. Regal. This woman was no fool, but she was a queen. Impossible not to find her breathtaking. He bowed over the hand she’d extended. Smooth, cool, scented of evening flowers. “It is an honor to extend my congratulations to you in person.”

Her smile never changed, but he felt the tension in her muscles and again, wondered about the woman inside this facade. “Thank you, Minister Silas. I do hope you’ll be able to attend after we announce a date. Hartley still has some work to do. A lady does enjoy being courted.” The comments were meant to be coy, but he wondered if that’s what she’d intended. Wondered too much. Damn it, he had no call to be wondering anything about her. Mortimer would not care. She was not important here; he had to keep his wits about him, not fantasize about a woman most likely too soft and coddled to ever be of real interest to him.

Alem tittered, and Mortimer, surprised by the violence welling inside himself, swallowed hard and took a sip of his drink.

“Sweet flower, I am yours in all things.” Alem looked back to Mortimer. “Are we not all but puppets to dance for our ladies? Are you married, Silas?”

“I am not, though I wait for that woman to fill my life with happiness.” Mortimer’s smile seemed to soothe Hartley Alem, though Carina didn’t appear as charmed.

Carina sent him a last, cool look and stepped back. “If you two will excuse me, I see my mother asking for my attention. A pleasure to meet you, Minister Silas. Enjoy your stay here on Caelinus.”

He bowed in response before she was swept away quickly by her mother, leaving that scent in the air and the soft swish of her gown in her wake.

He ate and drank, refused the attentions of a young male who’d been sent his way for entertainment and the young woman who followed. He liked sex as much as the next man, but he didn’t like it with prostitutes and he didn’t like it with slaves. He had no need to pay or hold someone in bondage to get them to open their thighs. Not that kind of bondage anyway.

He watched and learned. Found weaknesses and tucked them away. By the time he retired, he had a plan in place.

He’d need to move quickly.

 

 

A
fter her escape from the dinner, Carina escorted her mother to her rooms, and they’d shared a cup of tea. Esta would be called to attend to Ciro when he finished with the reception, so they’d stolen those moments to try to decompress and pretend not to be concerned that the Federation hadn’t shown up yet. The walk back to her own rooms was quiet. Carina ignored her guards the best she could and went directly inside, locking the door behind her.

Now finally alone, she brushed her hair and readied to sleep. She’d dismissed her attendants as she’d left for the reception, so there was no one else to worry about just then. Which was good since she had plenty to worry over as it was.

The evening had left her unsettled, impatient. Time was running out! Hartley had managed to fondle her breast at one point, squeezing so hard he’d caused her pain. At the sound of distress, he merely smiled and stepped back, licking his lips and nearly sending her meal bolting from her belly. Thinking back, she should have thrown it up all over him. But knowing him, he’d have enjoyed it.

Alone in the pale light, she realized no matter how crafty and brave she thought she might be, this was beyond her, and it could very well be her undoing.

It would do no good to pace anymore. She needed some rest, or she wouldn’t be able to keep up the mask with her father. After a quick sleeping draught, she turned out the lamps and climbed into her bed. Sleep came quickly but was fraught with ugly thoughts and dreams of disappearing.

Jolting her from a nightmare, a hand touched her and then pressed against her lips. She came fully awake, thrashing until a voice whispered to her.

“Be still. Terra roses await you.”

At the sound of the code words her mother had told her to expect, Carina obeyed.

“Be still a moment until your eyes adjust.”

Despite the curt nature of his order, she knew he was right. Slowly, her eyes adjusted to the dim light and she saw who’d spoken.

Sharp green eyes took her in and she nearly recoiled. Him? Mortimer whatever his name was? That silly fop? They wouldn’t get five steps down the hall!