Urden, God of Desire (11 page)

Lensi groaned.

Sima liked how he smelled after he came home from the mill, the flavor of ground wheat clinging to his skin, his clothes. He was tired and by the looks of it
,
 
cranky
as hell. She ran her fingers up and down his lower back, hoping to calm him. He didn’t let go.

“Well,” he whispered in her ear. “What did my old friend tell you?”

“She wants me to go to the mountains for a while.” She kissed his cheek and waited.

“No.” He squeezed her against his chest. “No, you’re not going back there. Neither am I.” Razi raised one hand and pointed at Lensi.
 
“You get out with your rebellion. Go. You’re not welcome in my house anymore.”

Lensi stood and pushed in her chair. “She’ll make her own decisions.”

“She’s my wife. Whatever we do, we do it together.” He kissed Sima’s forehead, a swift peck without emotion. Releasing her, he took three steps, grabbed Lensi’s chunky arm and led her out. “Consider our friendship over.” His voice started to rise. “Don’t com, no more letters through Folar, no more…anything!” He opened the door, shoved her out and slammed it before she could protest.

“That’s the end of it,” he muttered. He tore off his shirt and threw it on the floor. Fingering the clasp on his belt, he shook his head. “Don’t talk to her again. Crazy crap she’s into. She’ll get us killed.”

“Razi, you’re wrong.”

“No.” He tugged his belt through the loops. “I’m not wrong.”

“This from the man who said marrying Leuj wasn’t as bad as I thought.” She threw up her hands. “You’re afraid. You’ve always been. You never want to do something bigger than yourself.”

The belt flew through the air, the buckle thumping on the table before it fell to the tiled floor. Sima stared down at it. He bent to unfasten his shoes, set them by the couch and stomped to the bathroom. The shower turned on.

“Great.” She followed after him and stared at his silhouette through the frosted glass door. He scrubbed his body, the scent of organic soap lingering in the swiftly heating air. Mist rose and Sima stripped off her blouse and bra. “I’m joining you.”

He opened the door and peeked out at her. “You won’t change my mind. It’s for the best.” Water made his chocolate-colored skin shiny. It dribbled down his lips and chin. He narrowed his eyes.

“Bad day at work?”
She pushed off her skirt and panties. The fabric puddled on the floor at her feet.

“Yeah, bad day.
The grinder seized again.” His eyes shifted and she knew he was taking in her body, drinking in her curves as he always did. He swallowed and returned to his shower, leaving the door open.

She pushed it wider and stepped in beside him. He gripped her waist and guided her beneath the spray. Water poured down her skin, hot and sensual. “What are we doing here in Alga anyway?” she asked him.

He kissed her neck, his crotch pressed to her buttocks. For a long time, he ran his hands over her curves while he laved her neck with his experienced tongue. “We’re trying to be happy here. That’s all.
Just trying to survive.”

She turned to face him, his growing erection a hint of what was soon to tease her. “Is it enough what we’re doing, Razi?”

He frowned. The coolness returned to his eyes, something she rarely saw there. He was always happy, positive and almost ridiculous in his ease of manner, but not now. “I don’t know,” he finally answered.

Slick hands palmed her ass. He lifted her and crushed her against the shower wall. With practiced precision, he forced his cock into her wetness and stood still, watching her face. Sima drew her legs around him, locking her ankles behind his ass.

“I won’t do anything without you,” she said. “You know that.”

He nodded, captured her mouth with his, and kissed her deeply.

Chapter Fourteen

Target

Melia snapped her data sharer shut. She didn’t feel right. “I should have killed him by now,” she muttered. Fifteen minutes had passed and still Enrue had not returned. Instinct told her to get the hell out. Not one to go against good sense, she shoved her sharer into her pocket, drank down another gulp of the Shiemir’s liquor and headed for the passage she’d been led in by, her wrists still tingling where he’d grasped them.

The door’s design was old school, something from at least ten years ago and easy to reconfigure. She tapped on the key panel, recoding and hacking through the security system. After several minutes, the door popped and opened enough for her to slip her fingers inside and tug it wider. She squeezed past it into the dim passage. Her shoes made small echoing thumps as she sprinted through the portal. Thinking it best not to go the way she’d come in, she went in the opposite direction.

Like most palaces, there were service entries to the room allowing maids to come and go with little notice. She found one and recoded the door to allow her entry into the dark chamber beyond. Stepping onto the carpeted floor, she realized it was a bedroom. Someone slept on the single bed near a closed window. The snoring woman was in her fifties, judging by the lines of her face. “Perfect,” Melia whispered. She placed a hand over the woman’s exposed upper arm and closed her eyes, concentrating.

Her skin raced with prickles. Pain shot through her nerves, but she knew how to resist the urge to cry out after so many years of training. Bones shifted. Warmth passed through her. The locks of hair on her back shortened and Melia let out a held breath. She took a step back, glanced at her hands and nodded, satisfied. Wrinkles covered them and the nails were short, manicured for utility rather than beauty, a perfect copy of the sleeper’s.

One mustn’t forget the finishing touches.
She located the woman’s closet and hurried to dress in a plain, gray uniform, discarding her own black dress in the laundry chute. She traded shoes and headed out into the main passages, unnoticed by the few maids who walked by her. Out of experience, she averted her unusual eyes, nodding or lifting her hand in a polite wave when needed.

Weaving through halls and grand rooms to the lesser storage areas, she found her way out through a loading bay. Melia ambled along the side of the road, eased past the security gates where one of the guards seemed to recognize her stolen face, and hailed a shuttle.

As she watched the Tarafian city streets whiz by, she kept replaying the meeting with Enrue. She knew he’d disagree, that he’d try to turn her to his cause. All crazy diplomats were the same. “So why is he different?” she whispered. Touching his skin had ignited a fire in her core. After he’d pressed her against the wall, she was disappointed when he released her. She’d wanted him to force himself on her, and she’d have let him.

Melia shook her head, trying to displace the thoughts racing through her mind.
This is too dangerous. Maybe I should ask to be reassigned.
But she’d never done so before now. Sure, she’d used her hits, gone farther than most assassins would, but it was out of… “What?” she suddenly
wondered.
“What kind of sick person am I?” It had never bothered her before now.

The cabbie shot her a curious look in his rear view mirror.

And I’m talking to myself too.
She groaned.
“How much longer?”

“We’re almost there, Miss.” He had that same slow accent most Tarafians spoke with. It got on her nerves. “Are you feeling all right?”

She frowned and glanced at her hands, still the same wrinkles,
the
same stolen shape.
“Yes, why?”

“You look a little pale.” He punched in another command on his console, still watching her.

“I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” Holding the shift was draining her energy. She needed to get to the hotel, gather her thoughts and get a grip on herself. She wondered if Collin would still be awake. She needed to be with someone. That realization startled her, but it was true.

* * * *

Enrue and Jorin kept pace in the hall, set on a mission to interrogate the Cossia. The Shiemir was displeased and only a little frightened of how close he’d let himself get to her. He clenched his teeth together, a muscle twitching in his cheek. When the two men reached the door to the meeting room and he keyed in the code, Jorin broke the thick silence.

“She was sent to kill you, my Shiemir. I’m certain.”

Enrue grunted. “If that’s so, then why am I still alive?”

Jorin sighed. He reached into his jacket and withdrew a syringe. “I don’t know. But I can find out. It won’t take long.” He sneered. “I can find out everything the Empire’s messenger knows.”

The door made a whispering sound when it opened. Enrue peered at the glass and the empty bottle on the table. Her chair stood empty. Even before he stepped inside, he knew she was gone. Jorin swept in before him and stalked around in a circle, anger darkening his features. He replaced the syringe, ran a hand over his bald head and glared. “You need better security. This is unacceptable.” He lifted Melia’s glass, sniffed at it and set it down. “Maybe O’ka was right about you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Enrue leaned on the chair he’d sat in earlier. He eyed Jorin’s stern countenance, suspicious. “What did she say to you?”

“She said you’re not cautious enough; you don’t protect yourself.” He replaced the cap on the bottle, shaking his head. “This Cossia was sent to kill you. And here I see you sat and leisurely discussed the situation over liquor. You’re lucky, Enrue. But one day, if you’re not careful, your luck will run out.” He tapped his jacket with meaning. “You should let me handle your security. I can run an inspection, revamp where necessary.”

Enrue rubbed his temple and forehead with one shaking hand, trying to settle himself. “Are you certain the vids aren’t forged?”

“You saw them yourself, but yes. I ran a scan on them. They’re authentic. This Melia…she’s the one Jeremy was with the night he died. The vid shows her in the hall outside his
room,
both of them arm in arm. She’s an assassin, Shiemir. If you can’t see it, you’re as blind as he was.”

“Fine.”
He turned around, embittered by this new conclusion, but sobered as well. “Take care of the security.”

“I can find her for you, if you want me to.” Jorin strode at Enrue’s side and together they left the empty meeting room. They moved along in silence until they reached Nema’s office.

“Yes. Find her if you can.” He wanted to hear it from her, to have her say the words. Enrue cleared his throat, reached for a stack of data cards his secretary needed him to review and prepared to adjourn to his room for the night.

“If my people find her, I have your permission to interrogate?”

Swirls of panic turned in Enrue’s stomach. The thought of Melia being held prisoner, captive and drugged, filled him with dread. As much as he knew Jorin was right about what she was, he didn’t want to see her
hurt,
or much worse…dead.

“Only on my terms.
Here, in the palace. There are holding cells in the lower part of the east wing. I don’t use them anymore. Never could understand why they were built at all. The last place I want a prisoner is near me.” He tucked the data cards under his arm, realizing the irony of his own words.

Jorin smirked. “I see, my Shiemir. I will have Nema alert you once we have the Cossia in custody. You’re more than welcome to witness the interrogation. Many officiates find my methods…enlightening.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Enrue excused himself.

He made his way to his bedchamber, setting the cards on the side table. As he undressed, he stared at his com, hoping Melia’s face would suddenly appear there. The night wore on and he counted himself a fool for his longings. He settled beneath the covers and stared at the ceiling for hours until a tone interrupted his thoughts.