Ardor's Leveche (22 page)

“It was at your command he was assassinated!” Valdez shouted. “You ordered his death and—”

“The order,” the Reaper said, his eyes narrowed with hatred, “came from your puppet master Colonel Kurt Bowen of the Coalition. It was he who sent the Riezell Guardian to Stori, but it was not she who carried out General Morrison’s order!”

The other councilmen swung their heads in unison toward Valdez, shock turning their faces pale. Gabriel was not surprised the others knew nothing of what was actually happening on their home world. His father and Valdez apparently had them all bamboozled.

“Your Grace,” the councilman who had protested the king’s lack of funerary protocol spoke up. “We knew nothing of this. Nothing!”

“As members of the High Council, you should have made it your business to know!” the Reaper snarled. “Because you sat on the Council and grew fat and lazy from the corruption, you are now relieved of your duties. I do not want you at Vespertine.

You have two hours to vacate your residences.”

“But where are we to go, Your Grace?” another councilman asked, tears streaking down his wrinkled cheeks.

“I don’t give a damn where you go, but if you are still here at sundown, your lives will be forfeit along with Valdez’s.” He waved a hand at Diego Sanchez who got immediately to his feet and gave orders to his men.

There were whimpers among the councilmen and they were still whimpering—

some openly crying—as Diego’s guards led them away.

122

Ardor’s Leveche

Valdez was cursing as he was dragged away to prison. He kept craning his neck, glaring back at Gabriel until the former high commissioner could no longer see his enemy.

“As soon as the last ship is docked, we will transmit your coronation on every Vid-Com in Stori,” Diego suggested. He took the hand Gabriel extended to him, gripping his new king’s forearm in the age-old salute of warrior to warrior.

“I don’t want any ridiculous ceremony to invest me with what is lawfully mine,”

Gabriel stated.

Diego grinned. “I doubted you would, but we’ll still have to crown you. It is the symbolism our people will be looking for, my liege.”

The Reaper rolled his eyes. “Give me time to speak to my lady before you lay that ugly crown on my head,” he asked.

“By the way, Bowen is chomping at the bit trying to contact us. What do you want me to tell him when I open the channel to his ship?” Diego asked.

“He’ll ask about the king first, his operative second,” Gabriel replied. “Tell him one is dead and the other in custody. He’ll demand you turn her over to him. Agree to do so but make sure he understands it will be at a time and place of your choosing.”

“You aren’t really going to turn her over to him, are you?” Breva asked.

Gabriel gave his brother a droll look then turned back to Diego. “Contact the Burgon on a secure channel and ask him if he will allow you to land your personal runabout on Aduaidh Prime. If he agrees, ask him if he will also allow Bowen to land there, as well.”

“I take it that is where I will supposedly take Major Kahn to turn her over to Bowen,” Diego said.

“The Burgon should agree, but if he doesn’t, Bowen will have to come to Stori. As far as he’s concerned, you are now the king and he will want to make damned sure he has you in his pocket. Make sure he comes to the meeting alone otherwise he’s liable to have guards there to arrest you.”

“Should he try that, he’ll have me up his ass is more like it,” Diego said then grinned nastily. “And not in a way he would enjoy.”

“You’re going to Aduaidh Prime to meet Bowen?” Breva asked his brother.

“No, I’m going to Aduaidh Prime to kill him,” the Reaper corrected.

123

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

Realizing she had no weapon to protect herself, Ardor edged away from the hidden door that swung open at the end of the hall. Light spilled into the dark corridor for a moment, revealing the silhouette of a man.

“Milady?”

Relief flooded Ardor’s soul and she sprang up from the floor, grabbing handfuls of her gown into her fists as she ran, rushing forward to fling herself into Gabriel’s arms.

He stumbled beneath her onward rush, throwing his arms around her, lifting her up along his powerful length. His mouth slanted possessively across hers—claiming her, branding her with his agile tongue—as her legs wrapped around his hips.

There in the dark corridor he backed her up against the stone wall, bracing her as he reached one hand down to fumble with the closure of his uniform pants. She was riding his hips, her ankles locked behind him, her heels digging into the high curve of his rump. When his shaft was free of the britches, he pushed its velvety tip past the leg hole of her flimsy panties and thrust upward, impaling her upon his rigid cock, once more bracing her ass with fingers digging into soft flesh.

Like wild animals they tore at one another—bucking, thrusting and wriggling—

until they were both covered in a fine sheen of sweat. His lips left her mouth to travel to the sweet perfection of her breast. He tore the bloodstained material of her bodice apart, barely aware of the telltale blotch and suckled her, drawing the taut nipple into his mouth and nibbling at it as he pushed hard into her velvety sheath. The scent of his father’s blood was upon her but he pushed it from his mind. Nothing mattered to him but the woman in his arms.

Her fingers were arched in his hair, gripping his head to her, pushing him closer to her breast. The wetness of his mouth sent shivers of pleasure racing down her spine.

The force of their climaxes came at the same moment for both of them. His was so violent he thought he would spontaneously combust so hot did his cock feel. Hers was a strong clenching that milked him of every last drop of cum until his knees sagged beneath him and he fell to the floor, panting, his body quivering as he clutched her tightly to him.

They knelt like that for a long time until their breathing returned to normal. Her legs were still wrapped around his hips, her back pressed to the cold stone wall.

The sex had been a relief valve for both of them—his at finding her alive and well and hers at seeing him again. Both had feared for the other, though neither had let the other know.

“I missed you every moment you were out of my sight,” he said.

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Ardor’s Leveche

Her head had fallen to his shoulder and she was pressing little kisses on the column of his neck. “That’s good to know, Reaper,” she said softly.

“Never again will I allow you to put yourself in danger.”

There had been a time when Ardor would have balked at such a machismo comment but she knew in her heart of hearts those days were long ago. She wanted nothing more than to be loved and protected and cosseted by the magnificent man holding her.

“You’ll go after Bowen,” she said.

“I have to, wench,” he replied.

“Bowen won’t be hard to take but the general is another matter,” she said.

Gabriel sighed, straining to push himself up to a standing position. His legs felt rubbery and he knew if had to fight a duel at that moment, he’d damned well lose.

“I’ll leave Morrison where he is for now,” he said. “Without his primary henchman, he will be hard-pressed to do much damage before we can take him out.”

“Don’t kid yourself,” Ardor said, releasing her hold on his hips and lowering her legs to the floor. “The general will have trained another warrior in anticipation of losing Bowen.”

“Oh, I know about that man and he’s no threat to us right now.”

Ardor thought of the female spy at Command Central and figured she knew who it was.

“Was the general responsible for her husband’s death?”

“We can’t prove it but we suspect as much.”

Ardor smoothed down the skirts of her gown, hating the female frippery and wanting her Reaper garb back.

“Just picture it, wench,” he told her.

Ardor frowned. “I tried that but it didn’t work.”

Gabriel shrugged. “Be still.”

She did and in the twinkling of an eye her gown was gone and she was standing there naked, the cold draft from the open secret panel playing over her heated flesh.

“I rather like you like that,” he said, but at her growl, used his uncanny ability to fashion the molecules from out of nowhere and the coolness of leather clung to her legs a fraction or two before the sleekness of the silk uniform shirt settled lovingly over her chest.

“Ah, what about a bra and panties?” she asked.

“Reapers don’t wear underwear,” he replied. “Get used to it.” He took her hand.

“I’ve got an onerous chore to attend to but when that’s finished, we’ll leave for Aduaidh Prime.”

“What’s on Aduaidh Prime?” she asked, walking beside him to the open portal.

“Bowen, I’m hoping,” he replied. He motioned her ahead of him.

125

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

Ardor exited the secret door and came up short. The throne room was filled with people, all of them staring at her. She looked around at Gabriel.

“They’re here to see me crowned King of Stori,” he said then shrugged. “Even if I never wanted the damned position.”

“Do you think they know what we were doing?” she asked, blushing to the roots of her hair.

“Why do you think you didn’t hear them out here?” he asked, grinning.

Ducking her head, she felt her cheeks burning as he walked past her. So embarrassed was she, she barely made note of what he was saying, so distressed she couldn’t look at those gathered.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the court, may I introduce my betrothed Major Ardor Kahn,” he introduced her.

Ardor winced, forcing herself to look up to meet what she feared would be either humor or disapproval. Instead, she was surprised to see men bowing and ladies curtseying to her, not a snicker showing on the pleasant faces looking her way.

“General Morrison of the Coalition Forces sent Major Kahn here to assassinate my father King Alejandro.”

Shocked whispering ran rampant through those gathered and stunned faces turned to Ardor. She looked up at her lover with stricken eyes, but Gabriel took her hand in his and brought it to his lips then turned to the crowd and told the first lie she had heard him tell.

“Before my lady could carry out her mission a traitor among you did the deed.” He motioned to Diego who produced a silver dagger, held by its lethal tip. “High Commissioner Valdez’s fingerprints are on the weapon that was left at the scene.”

Again the whispering grew—this time in volume—and there were a few cries of outrage mixed in with the rumblings.

“Finding out I was alive and on my way to Stori to rescue my intended, Valdez thought he saw a way to make himself very useful to me, no doubt believing I would be pleased to learn of my father’s death,” the Reaper said. “I must confess to you that the king’s demise neither surprised nor saddened me for it was my father who murdered my mother with his bare hands. It was also my father who falsely accused me of treason. It was Valdez who signed my death warrant and saw to it I was turned over to the Coalition Forces on
an Éigipt
.”

Once more there was a loud outcry from those gathered but it was anger instead of shock that filtered through the throne room this time. From the looks on some of the faces, such perfidy had been long suspected and was now confirmed.

“Had I not become a Reaper before I was arrested, my life would have been forfeit, my people, for I would have succumbed to the fire pit into which I was thrust. As it was, I endured that hellish fate and stand before you today ready to accept the rightful mantle of Stori.”

126

Ardor’s Leveche

Cheers rang out over the crowd and only a handful of men looked displeased with the notion. Both Diego and Breva made note of those men’s expressions and would follow up on their loyalty to Prince Gabriel later.

The Reaper held his hand up for silence. “I will convey to you the story of how it came about that I am a Reaper at a later time. For now, I—”

A guard had come rushing up to Diego as Gabriel spoke and the look on Sanchez’s face as he turned to Gabriel halted the prince’s speech. He motioned Diego over and the warrior hurried to his side, speaking so quietly no one save Gabriel could hear.

Gabriel’s mouth tightened and he let out a long sigh. So silent had the room become, everyone assembled heard the harsh exaltation and waited with bated breath for the bad news they sensed coming. The prince looked around at the faces of his people then shook his head.

“I knew Valdez to be a dishonorable man but I did not know just how dishonorable. It seems he chose not to stand trial for his crime and has hanged himself in his cell. The high commissioner is dead.”

Thunderous applause rang out from most of those gathered, although one or two men looked put out, no doubt disappointed they would not get to see Valdez punished for his crime.

During the time Gabriel had been speaking, Breva had made his way over to Ardor.

He smiled at her. “All’s well, eh, wench?” he joked.

“What is the punishment for regicide on Stori, Raoul?” she asked softly.

“Hanging, drawing and quartering, wench,” he said. “For men, at least.”

“And for women?” she asked, searching his eyes as the applause died down.

Breva shrugged. “There’s never been a woman accused of such a crime.”

“But if there ever was?”

“Strangulation then burning at the stake,” he answered.

Ardor swallowed hard. She had a particular aversion to fire…

Gabriel was holding up his hand, waiting for the clamor to cease and when it did, he told his people he had relieved all seven members of the High Council of their positions.

“I know it is customary for the king to appoint the councilmen but it is my wish they be elected—fairly and squarely—by you, the people. I never want there to be corruption within these hallowed halls ever again!” Gabriel pronounced.

Still again applause echoed through the throne room and the stomp of feet crashed against the floor in agreement. There were whistles and shouts then the people began chanting.