Stark Pleasure; the Space Magnate's Mistress (The LodeStar Series) (13 page)

She closed her eyes as the chocolate melted in her mouth, the sweet richness coating her tongue, the fumes rising to fill her nostrils, consuming her senses, driving away the fear-sweat and the residue of hopelessness that hung around a police station. Then she took another drink of tea.
 

When she peered warily at her hostess, the Serpentian was waiting with a slight, serene smile as if she had all the time in the world for a client who slipped off into a private black hole. Kiri eyed her for clues, wondering how long she’d been out this time. She hadn’t zoned out for a long time, not for over a year.

“A hair cut, definitely.” Haassea mused, her soft voice breaking the silence. “Of course you haven’t time for our full spa treatment today, so we’ll just do one or two nice things for you, hmm? Then you can try a few ensembles.”

That sounded safe. Do-able. Nodding, Kiri finished her tea and rose to follow Haassea back into the mysterious depths of her domain.

“I know what Stark likes,” the woman added.

Kiri nearly stumbled. That’s right, she was only one in a long line of women for him. No one special, just an attractive face and body.
 

Didn’t bother her, not a bit. She was only here because her choices were limited to this or being at her kiosk. Wasn’t because she believed his fancy talk about how he wanted her so much.

Chapter 10

Stark watched Kiri walk away and then turned to the slender Barillian who waited, her skull pipes shaded with same delicate rose hues as her eyes, to complement her lavender skin. “One of your private rooms, please.”
 

“Certainly, sir,” she replied in a fluting voice, characteristic of her race.

He followed the young woman to a comfortable room with a desk, work station and a leather chairs, done in somewhat darker shades of Maitresse’s signature pale hues.
 

“Coffee or tea, sir?’

“Coffee, black.” Stark sat down at the work station and used his comlink to bring up his private com network.
 

The Barillian brought him a tray with a carafe, mug and a plate of chocolates.

“Thank you.” He chose one of the thin chocolates, knowing it would be his favorite, dark chocolate filled with strong mint.
 

It gave him a deep sense of satisfaction to bring his women here, not only to please them, but because he could.
 

He would never forget coming off shift from his first steady job in a cerametals factory, slaving all night in hellish din and heat and stink of chemicals. He and his fellow laborers had emerged into an unusually clear morning. He’d squinted up into the sunlight. Far above the dirt and strife of the streets and factories, a skyscraper gleamed like a spire in the sky.
 

He’d sworn then that one day he’d own one of those for himself. He and his brothers would live in it, warm and clean, with more food than they could ever eat. Perched high above all their fear and want like the ravens that perched on rooftops to croak their disdain at the humans toiling below. The ravens were survivors. So was he.

He’d done as he vowed. Creed and Joran might not live in one of his high rises or shop in places like this, but they could if they chose to. And so could his women.

Haassea and her staff had a way of pampering wealthy females of many planets while steering them toward purchases and services that promoted the boutique’s reputation of bringing out a female’s best. The owner didn’t always take care of clients personally anymore.
 

He couldn’t wait to see how she polished his sleek little cat. She needed petting and pampering. When she was escorted into the private room at the spaceport police headquarters, she’d been a pale, hollow-eyed shell of the vibrant woman he’d met the day before.
 

Hardly surprising. A lesser woman would have crumbled under such sustained battering. He shook his head, chuckling at the memory of her plan to face down the media and the curious, and demand they pay for access to her. She’d no doubt have done it, too.
 

Kiri was a fighter and he respected her for it. He had no use for the weak, men or women. Children, he used his power to protect, and those adults who were willing to work. Anyone who sat and whined about how they must be taken care of, he ignored. He’d begun to build his empire when he was only fifteen years old; others could work for at least their own survival.

The door hissed open, and Haassea sauntered in.
 

“Logan.” She smiled at him. Stark smiled back as he crossed the room to her.
 

He bent to kiss her cheek, and she returned the greeting, her musky perfume slithering through his senses. She slipped her arm through his, pressing her soft breasts against him.

“Do you have everything you need?”

“Yes, as usual your staff is taking very good care of me.” Stark stepped back, reaching for his coffee. “As they will Kiri, I’m sure.”

“That’s because you take such good care of us,” she teased gently.
 

That was the simple truth. Not only did he bring all his women here to shop, he had helped Haassea secure the loan to open this place.

“She’s not your usual type, Logan.” Her searching gaze belied her soft voice.

He shrugged. “Perhaps it was time for a change.”

“Hmm. Don’t change too much. We’d miss you.”

He gave her a look. “You, perhaps. Not sure your husband would.”

She gave him back look for look. “Traay knows you and I have a long history. And that I would never give you up.”

“He may have come from wealth, but he’s still a man, Haassea.”

She merely smiled, in serene acceptance that she was worth her husband’s possessiveness.

Stark smiled back. “I’ll see you and Traay at the Port Commissioner’s Ball.”

She smiled.”Really? Good. Last year’s ball was a very … satisfying affair.”
 

“I remember.” The Ball might have a respectable title, but the elite of New Seattle knew better. Held at the city’s largest casino, it was an evening of unbridled revelry for the influential and wealthy, a celebration of another year survived in a harsh world. Stark had attended with a woman whose name he couldn’t even recall.
 

“Perhaps we can have dinner together,” Haassea suggested.

Stark nodded. “We will.”
 

Stark’s comlink chimed, and he raised his brows. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, that will be business.”

“Of course,” Haassea said easily. “I’ll leave you to it.”

She swept out, and Stark opened the hololink. It was from his executive assistant, reminding him of a routine cyber-meeting that afternoon. Stark thanked her and brought up the galactic web.

He could have gone to LodeStar headquarters at the space port, or back to the office in his penthouse, and had Giles deliver Kiri when she was done here, but he preferred to wait. He wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t bolt, he admitted wryly to himself as he sipped the strong, hot coffee.
 

He spent some time going through the reports of the last day. The oasis resort on Serpentia was progressing well. Pirates had been sighted near Creed’s mining operation on Frontiera, but thanks to the new sat-com system, Creed and his security people knew and would keep them at bay. Like Logan, he hired the best and paid them well.
 

Stark hadn’t checked in for a few days with the captain of
the
Orion
, the flagship of his new space cruise line. After the recent barrage of deadly sabotage attempts on her, everyone in LodeStar Corporation was on their guard.
 

He used his comlink to signal her.
 

Captain Steve Craig answered immediately. His head and broad shoulders, silver gray flight suit crowned with the bars and stars of his office, filled the holovid screen, backed by the
Orion
’s command deck and two crewmen working quietly. Close-cropped hair shone silver-blond in the lights. His eyes, under heavy brows, were piercing light blue. He smiled a greeting. “Logan, good to see you.”

“Hello, Steve, how are you?”

“Very well. A quiet flight so far.” They exchanged a look of hard-won satisfaction.
Orion
’s first four voyages had been fraught with danger, to the point that Stark and his crew commanders wondered if LodeStar would have to abandon the cruise line.
 

“We had a bit of a problem at launch,” Craig went on. “Two stowaways, but that was easily dealt with. They’re in IGSF custody now.”

“Really?” Stark frowned. “That’s a new one. With all our surveillance equipment, how did they think they’d remain undiscovered?”

“They’ll try anything, I guess. They were in shipping containers, with an air supply to last until we were underway. The interesting thing is, they’re both ex-soldiers, fighting men, who claim they have no idea how they ended up on the ship.”

“I’ll want to hear the reports after the IGSF has questioned them,” Stark said. “Anything else?”

“No. These settlers are a good lot, focused on getting to their new home.”

“Not a party crowd?”
 

“Oh, the lounges are doing a brisk business, but we’re selling more ale than anything else, and the dances are more likely to be group jigs than a tango.”

Orion
, her crew and three hundred twenty-two passengers, mainly Earth II working-class folk looking for opportunity, were bound for Frontiera. The verdant, Earth-like planet had only recently been discovered by the Alliance planets. Home to a few nomadic tribes as well as small groups of settled beings in her tropical regions, the planet was ripe for conquest. Pangaeans, Serpentians and humans were racing to stake claims on her. So were space pirates.

Stark and a consortium of business partners were making sure they captured their share of available land and business opportunities. They’d just finished installing a system that blanketed the planet in satellite communications, making it light-years more difficult for pirates to isolate and pillage remote outposts as they’d been in the habit of doing.
 

“You’ll be picking up some additional passengers on Bryght, I see.”

“Yes.” Craig grinned. “Commander Panthar has convinced several of his ex-IGSF mates to emigrate with him.”

“Well, Bryght’s a small planet,” Stark mused. “Only room for so many Tygers.”

“They do need plenty of space to roam, especially when their mating moons are on the rise.”

They both chuckled. On
Orion
’s maiden flight, she’d been held up by customs on Earth II. By the time she approached planet Bryght, days later than scheduled, her Tyger navigator Tryon Jag had been drawn helplessly into the influence of his mating moons. He’d morphed into a dangerous half-man, half-cat, terrifying most of the crew and demanding a mate.
 

He’d gotten one and managed to save his ship from being dashed on the dangerous asteroids of the Cattarus system, but Jag’s company, which still held the navigation contract for LodeStar, now maintained backup navigators as a failsafe, on Stark’s demand.

If, as Stark suspected, Kiri te Nawa had Tyger blood, his wild ride with her was only beginning.
 

“How’s Tessa?” Stark asked. “Is she with you on this flight?”

Craig’s face softened at the mention of his lovely half-Serpentian bride, a member of the ship’s guard. “She’s well, thank you. We’re going to spend a few days on Frontiera, take a look around while we’re there.”
 

“Ah. If you make it out to New Haven, look up Stone Masterson and his wife. Business partner of mine—he’d be glad to host you and Tessa.”

“Thank you. We may do that. Don’t you have a brother near there as well?” Craig asked.

“Creed has a mining claim in a valley a few clicks from Adamant. Something of a loner. I’m his silent partner.”

Craig nodded in comprehension. Frontiera was a good place for beings who preferred solitude.
 

“I’ve another brother on planet, as well,” Stark added. “Joran lives with one of the nomadic tribes.” He led one, actually, but that information was not to be shared. Nor was their unique method of making a living.

Something, a change in the atmosphere of the small room, a certain look of surprise and dawning admiration in Craig’s expression made Stark turn his head.
 

Kiri stood a short distance behind him. She had her head tipped down, regarding him through her dark lashes, her full lips pursed in a bashful smile.

Her rounded hips and slender, curving legs were showcased in a pair of fitted tights of dull gold, her upper body in a tank of the same shade that appeared to be spun loosely of blossoms and spider webs, her skin shimmering through the weave. The only thing that prevented the ensemble from being unfit for other eyes than his was the tiny soft sweater hugging her shoulders, arms and breasts, falling short of her slender waist. It was the pale hue of blush rose petals. She wore a matching pair of flats.

“Later, sir,” said Craig behind him.
 

“Yes,” said Stark without looking away from her. “Thank you, Captain.”