Urden, God of Desire (9 page)

* * * *

That evening as he lay beside his sleeping wife, he thought back on his life. He’d sacrificed his freedom as a teen and gone willingly into a life of slavery. Growing up under the control of Hicklan Corporation was not as bad, or so he thought then. He’d been educated in the ways of lovemaking and pleasuring others, but he also had the benefit of a college degree. Assigned to the richer classes, he needed to understand people and have a working knowledge of interesting subjects like politics and commerce. It never surprised him what his jobs liked to talk about after sex.

Sima mumbled in her sleep. He ran his hand over her cheek and watched her eyes lolling behind closed lids. They were safe here. No one knew who she was. And he hated to admit it, but Leuj was right. She ought to change her name and keep her face covered. Maybe they should move.

He rolled over, deciding he’d discuss it with her in the morning. Maybe they should break off contact with Lensi as well. She’d only try to pull them deeper into her political knots. He had no desire to take on the Corps. It was just as bad as the Shiemir and his ridiculous plan to stand up to the Empire.

He stared at the wall, the pale light from the dying solar lamps outside glowing in a blue hue. His mind shifted and turned. The slightest wave of guilt spread in his thoughts. “Lensi’s right,” he muttered. “I am selfish.” He bunched up his pillow and groaned. He couldn’t sleep. “Damn her.”

He reached to the nightstand and found the remote. Channel nine would have late night news at this hour. He pressed the button, keeping the sound low and watched some other planet’s dignitary, a General J. Wyther, blathering on about free nations.

The screen flashed and Razi grimaced. The next scene showed the General’s body laid out at a memorial service. Known for its love of graphic detail, the Nine News focused in on the corpse’s throat. Just above the edge of his collar, the picture zoomed in on a garish gash.

“…believed to have been assassinated for his alleged alliance with an underground cause known as the Doer Seven.
Authorities state General Wyther’s body was found near…”

Razi clicked the TV off. “And damn the news too.” Everything seemed so messed up in the world…in the entire Kyleena Empire.
One person can’t make a difference.
He clutched his pillow and closed his eyes.

Chapter Eleven

Nimmet and Urden

Melia and Collin wove through the crowd of tourists, their arms interlocked. “It’s so beautiful,” she told him, her gaze holding his attention until he blushed and glanced away. The formal entry of the Tarafian palace boasted a collection of relics from all the reaches of the planet and a few trinkets from other systems. By and far, the two statues standing in the center of the marble and gilded columns were the most impressive. Both were nude and carved of the same matching dark stone, one male and one female.
A perfect match,
she thought.

She counted the cameras in the recesses of the vaulted ceiling, the emergency exits and the unlabeled doors. It was risky. The guards at the entry might have had a description of her, though they gave no indication when she bypassed them.

“I’m glad you like it,” Collin finally said. He guided her to the end of the line. They waited to get a closer view of the deity statues. “Glad you agreed to spend some time with me too.” He grinned sheepishly.

She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Do you think I can touch it?”

His ginger eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“I want to touch it.” She giggled and nodded toward the male statue.

“Oh!” He glanced around to see if anyone was watching.
“Probably not.
They’ve got the ropes up.
Might get us in trouble.”
With a devilish expression that gave his freckled face a dark look, Collin leaned in and kissed her lips. “But I’ll distract the audience if you want.”

The line moved. Melia stood before the two carvings, her head back and her eyes wide. Something shimmered in her field of vision, an aura of sorts,
some
strange remnant of the Gifts she inherited in her mother’s blood. She let go of her escort and stepped forth, ignoring the ropes’ reminder not to pass and the sharp remark from the woman behind her.

Collin’s voice blubbered and rambled. She couldn’t understand a word he said as she unhooked the clasp and stepped over the boundary. She had to touch them, had to understand…

Melia reached out, her fingers splayed, her mind ensnared. She traced Urden’s inner thigh and then Nimmet’s. A surge of heat rippled through her body. Her nipples peaked. Her skin prickled. Between her legs, heated moisture seeped, readying for a lover. She blinked. Colors in the room swam around her. Dizziness pressed on her control. Strong arms caught her, and Collin’s voice reverberated in her mind. She wanted to grip the back of his head and force a torrid kiss against his mouth, taste him, pull down his pants and—

“Darla?” His face looked hazed. A guard hurried toward them. The other tourists gathered around her, their voices droning on.

“Get me back to my room,” she mumbled.

The shuttle ride was a blur. Collin carried her through the hotel lobby, held her close on the elevator and in his room, laid her on the bed. Confusion stirred in her senses as every nerve in her body sent off a pleasant jolt. Melia felt afire, or at least electrocuted. “The statues…” she began, but it was difficult to finish any one thought, any one sentence. She closed her eyes and drifted between waking and dreaming.

“Enrue,” she whispered, waking herself. Collin’s fingers remained in her hand, a steady reminder that she wasn’t alone.

“Feeling better?” he asked, running a hand over the side of her face. “After I brought you to bed, you kept…” He cleared his throat and glanced away. “I mean, I knew you were different because of your eyes, but you…”

“Shifted?” She sat up slowly, her head pounding. Never before had the Gift acted without her will.

“Yeah.
I guess that’s what I’m trying to say.”

She tried to read his expression. His face was grim, his mouth a tight line while he stared at the open window overlooking the bustling city. Night had come. Stars twinkled outside, and Melia suddenly remembered she had a meeting with Enrue to get to. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I understand if this changes things between us.”

“I thought all the shifters were dead.” He stood and crossed the room to turn on the light. “Last year there was a special on the nature channel about the massacre, how the Empire wiped them out because…well, because they could be used...”

“Right.
Well, I’m only half, and don’t believe everything you see on TV, especially about the Empire.” She pushed off the bed and started for the door. “I’ll leave you alone to think. I didn’t mean to frighten—”

“Can I see you tomorrow?”

His request surprised her. Most men were put off when they found out what she was capable of, given all the rumors about shifters as decoys, assassins, and imposters for political targets. For an instant, she wondered if she ought to leave or remain with him. He was a nice guy, had a job that would keep him away for long periods of time—a job that would allow her privacy. The thought of a companion, a lover she didn’t have to terminate, appealed to her. She stopped at Collin’s back and ran her fingers over his shoulder. “You’re sweet,” she said and left him. She should have killed him for what he now knew. It compromised her position. But she didn’t feel like killing at the moment.

* * * *

The palace guard escorted Melia past the statues, both shadowed due to the lights being off in the grand showroom for the day. He led her through one of the side doors, up a short flight of stairs, and into a metal tunnel. Every so often, monitors flanked them.

Enrue had promised no harm would come to her, but she doubted him. Her heart raced in her chest. She’d wanted to meet him since the first moment she saw him on the com when he dismissed her. It would be a shame to slit his throat. A shame only because she longed to know him, more than the politician she was assigned to assassinate should he not agree to the Empire’s terms.
I will make him agree.

She followed the guard into a side hall and exited the tunnel into a dimly lit boardroom with no windows. A tiny red light blinked in the corner of the ceiling above the opposite door—a single camera. A table centered the space, six chairs pushed in
around
its edges.

“Well, where is he?”

“The Shiemir will be with you shortly.” With that, the guard exited through the main door. Melia continued to survey her surroundings. A bar was inset in the wall beside her. She hurried over to inspect its contents. “Maybe the Shiemir will care for a few drinks tonight.” Judging from the way he acted the night before, liquor might be the answer to her problems. It might just loosen his stubbornness, get him to the sign the treaty, and she could be on the next flight to Kyleena headquarters before dawn.

The door slid on its automated runners. She turned to face her opponent. Shiemir Alonwei entered alone, his face set, his hazel eyes sweeping over her body. The lights came on. The door closed, sealing them off from the others in the palace.

“Well, well, well. We meet at last, Cossia.” He moved like a predator, both stalking and sure of himself. His hand extended. She reached to grasp his hot palm. A surge of electricity pulsed through her just as it had when she touched the Unangi carvings.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“No.” she tugged her hand from his grip.

“I suppose we should get down to business. Do you have the treaty?” His hand dropped to his side. He waited.

“Yes, of course, Shiemir.” She passed him her sharer. He took it and adjourned to the table, seating himself at the head.

Melia turned to the
bar,
crossing the floor to examine what stores he kept. “Would you like a drink?”

“No, thank you.” The sharer clicked open. The pads of his fingers tapped the screen, touching places she had touched.

She wanted him to touch her.

“What were you drinking the other night?” Her fingers passed over the many bottles.

“Red Fury,” he answered offhandedly.

She paused at the red-liquid filled bottle and slid it out. “Mind if I have one?”

“Help yourself.” His tapping silenced as he read over the proposition, or demand, depending on the reader’s point of view. He laughed under his breath when she sat down at his side.

Melia watched his face, his eyes moving from side-to-side, his lips as he read silently to himself. She drank down half her glass. Heat burned her throat, searing a path to her stomach and warming her limbs.

He raised his face to regard her. “Tastes like cinnamon, doesn’t it?”

She nodded. The undeniable urge to reach out and grasp his hand disturbed her. She gripped her glass tighter.

“You’re awfully quiet, considering the conversations we had before. I expected a battle with you, or at least an argument.” He reached over and touched her forearm, smirking. “Cat got your tongue?”

Chapter Twelve

The Game

She looked so nervous. Enrue didn’t understand it. Even his small joke hadn’t made her laugh. She stared into him and drank down the rest of her Red Fury. Her cat-like eyes were even more beautiful in person. She sucked in her deep wine-colored bottom lip, which glistened with moisture. He longed to kiss her right then, but he gathered his self-control, reminding himself he must hold back.

“Do you agree to the terms?” she asked, her voice cool, unyielding. Her goblet made a small chink when she set it down. Star-shapes reflected through the glass, creating fanciful patterns across the wood.