Urden, God of Desire (24 page)

“Hello, Chameleon.” His voice sounded breathy against her ear. “I’ve missed being so close to you. A reunion might be nice.” His finger curved along her backside, twisting and drawing curling shapes. She fought the shivers threatening to overtake her.

“I trust your trip was smooth.” She dropped her shens on the counter and grasped her drink.

“I have what you spoke of.
How clever of you to discover such a powerful bargaining tool.”
He twined his fingers over her shoulder and gave a firm squeeze to test her tension.

“I’m not sure it will sway the Shiemir. He is a cold man.” She stole a sideways glance at Daschia, regretting her betrayal. He looked the same as always, dark, dangerous, his eyes sparkling like stones beneath a river’s surface. “Apparently, he bargained her away once before. He thinks she’s dead. He may think that still despite any evidence we offer.”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out.” He released her shoulder to lean on the counter and order a drink for
himself
.

When he faced her again, she did
shiver,
the visions of their nights alone and his demanding sexual appetite tormenting her. He had been the first man she’d had sex with and the memory was as unpleasant as the reality of it.

“It may be what we need to draw him out in the open. Get him in a vulnerable position. I can pick up where you left off…” He reached up to trace the curve of her cheek. “Or you could end him. No sense sullying your perfect record, Melia. You’ve not failed me before now.”

She cleared her throat, struggling to hold his gaze. “I think maybe
it’s
best that you do this one.”

Daschia’s large lips tightened. He stared at her, reading her every tic, her confounded shaking, her fear of him, and he smiled. “I don’t think so.” He leaned forward, planting a harsh kiss against her mouth. His lips traveled across her cheek,
slavering
a moist line over her skin until his mouth opened beside her ear. He whispered, “You will kill the Shiemir.”

“Yes, Master Thoman,” she answered, feeling meek in his presence.

His fingers clamped onto her nipple through her shirt, twisting and pinching so hard, she wanted to cry out and slap him, but she resisted. She knew he wanted her to reveal her pain, her weakness, and she refused to give him such a pleasure. Such outbursts only proved to turn him on more. When he pulled back, she cast her gaze to her drink.

“You have missed my touch.” The attendant set Daschia’s drink on the bar. He paid for it, nodded and guzzled half of it down. “I will touch you tonight, Chameleon, like I did our first night.” He drank down the rest of his coffee, some iced concoction she doubted he even tasted. He did everything in such a way, fast and cruel.

Melia followed him outside and across the metal walkway, dreading the evening to come. She wondered why it was she ever thought she could be like him. He scarce looked from side to side, striding along with his head held high, his domineering stance impressive. She used to be his shadow, nearly his equal, a being devoid of emotion, without mercy and lacking the ability to regret. As she entered his shuttle and seated herself beside him, she felt the heat of regret sinking into her heart.
I cannot love Enrue,
she thought, her old training scolding out of place sentiments.
I am incapable of love.

The city of Taraf whizzed past her window. She wanted to keep her eyes on the way ahead, but found herself turning back, gazing over her shoulder and wishing she’d stayed in Enrue’s arms. He would die one way or another at the Empire’s hands, but for a short time, she could have been happy with him. She could have lived in his small dream amidst the palace and been treated with affection. She closed her eyes, recalling the way he’d run his hands over her body in his room. No man had touched her in such a way.

“Ah, here we are.” Daschia’s voice broke through her wonderings.
“A fine hole to hide out in.”

Melia studied the run-down hotel. Indeed, it was worthy of demolition, but still, people walked in and out the old-fashioned turning doors. Three of the windows were cracked, old polymer-makes no longer considered fashionable. “You have Moquai Alonwei here as well?”

“Yes.” He parked the shuttle in the valet and tipped the server. The two assassins walked side by side toward the door. “She can watch us tonight. Maybe I will take her like I took you.” He ran a finger along Melia’s arm causing goosebumps. “Do you want to watch me do it?”

Melia snorted, almost breaking into a chuckle. “I’m surprised you haven’t taken her already. You’re always horny.
Insatiable lust.”

His lips twisted in a snarl. “That’s not true.”

She shook her head. “Oh? You can resist me? No man can. You know that.” She planted the seed of defiance at that moment, wondering if he would try to resist his usual urge. “It’s why you chose me for your regiment. You saw my potential.”

They stood while the turning doorway brought them to the inside of the hotel. Red carpet lined the floors, worn away in some places. Daschia took her hand and guided her past the check-in desk, toward the false-antique lift. He pressed the button to trigger the doors to open. “You’ve become conceited. Your body does not weaken my resolve.”

The doors opened with a creak and he shoved her inside. She countered his forcefulness and managed not to fall on her ass. Twisting around to face him, she smirked. “Then it’s a bet. I wager you cannot last the night.”

“How much is this wager you offer?” The doors slid shut and he crossed the small moving chamber to grasp her face in his fingers. “This could be a fun game.”

“I wager the death of the Shiemir. If you lose and take me tonight, you must kill him.” His fingers bit into her skin. For a moment, Melia realized it would not be so difficult to kill her boss. His throat waited only a hand’s reach from her, the veins pulsing beneath his dark skin. His life called to her darkness, tempting her to try it. He would not expect it from her—ever.

He grunted. “You’re on.” His heated grip slipped away and he took a single step backward. “But, by morning, you’ll be begging for me. You know you miss what I do to you.”

She held her tongue. They reached their floor and kept pace with one another. She scanned the way ahead, recognizing Evid from her earlier years in training. His lanky figure and hollow gaze meant little to her, other than the fact that she was not alone with Daschia and his hostage. Her plan twisted in the reaches of her mind. She held back her grin of excitement.

Her boss slipped his keycard in the door slot, releasing the lock. Melia cringed when she waltzed in behind him. The familiar scent of his cologne grew stronger after he shut the door. Three candles sat atop the marred black dining table. Beneath her boots, more red carpeting blazed. As taught, she surveyed the main room, its weaknesses and possible hiding spots. Down the hall, a bedchamber door remained open. Silhouetted in the orange light from the plasma window, the Shiemir’s daughter sat on the edge of a bed, fidgeting with her hands. She did not look up.

A twinge of guilt settled in Melia’s stomach. “Well. There she is.”

Daschia began unbuttoning his shirt, his eyes agleam. “Yes, my clever Chameleon.” He tossed the garment over the back of a chair. His chest bore a smattering of curled hairs in the center, surrounded by intricate tattoo work. He had gained many more since last she saw him nude. He sat down and removed his shoes, soft, comfortable ones fashioned for creeping up in silence. “I need to shower. Care to join me?” His tongue darted out to trace his upper lip.

“No thanks.” Melia circled the metal coffee table, plopped on the end of the couch and slid the few free vid cards across its surface. She pretended to be interested in one until he gave up and tramped down the hall.

“I don’t need you tonight. I’ll just use this one,” he called.

She turned in time to see him hovering over Sima, his grin taunting. Melia shrugged as if his threat meant nothing. “If that’s what pleases you.” She turned back to ignore him until the sound of water rushing hummed in the background.

Chapter Thirty Four

A Trade

Sima wiped the trail of tears from her cheeks. She flinched when her hand brushed the swollen area by her eye where he’d punched her that morning. Her left wrist burned where the dark man had shackled her to the bedpost. Now, it seemed he wanted to rape her as well. Glancing across the hall to the couch, she frowned. The woman he’d brought with him looked familiar. She stood and tossed the card she’d been holding onto the couch and
approached,
her cat-like eyes unmistakable.

“You.”
Sima tensed. “I remember you from Alga.”

The woman halted, nodding once. “You were right. The paints helped.” She bent over, slipped a metal pick into the lock on the shackles and twisted.
Her perfume wafted up, light and flowery.
“You want to see your father again?”

“Yes.” She gawked at the pick, unsure of what the woman’s intent could be. If she was here, she had to be an enemy.

“Then you do as I say. Don’t try to run. He has guards at the door. They’ll stop you, kill you if they have to, though I’m sure you’re well aware they want you kept alive.”

“Are you helping me?” The shackle opened and fell across the bed pillow.

“Maybe.
If what I want to do right now works, just maybe.” She pressed her hands to either side of Sima’s face and stared at her.
“Mm.
You do have your father’s beautiful eyes. If you don’t see me again, tell him Melia tried to change for him.”

Sima nodded.

“Now, go into the next room. Close the door. Turn the light off and wait for me. I’ll knock three times, okay?” She drew her hands away and kept them at her sides. “Go.”

Sima stood and stumbled out, wondering what this strange woman had planned. Maybe her father had sent
her,
maybe this all meant something more. Nevertheless, she had no choice but to hide in the darkness and wait.

Not long afterward, the shower stopped. A man hummed and chuckled in the next room. Sima pressed her ear to the wall, eavesdropping.

His low, masculine voice sounded sinister when he spoke. “You and I are gonna have a good time tonight. I see you’re ready for me. You want what I have, don’t you?” He paused. The bed creaked. Then he continued. “I want you to scream. Scream as loud as you want. I need you to make my lover jealous. Maybe she’ll join us. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Melia
whimpered,
her voice a familiar, pitiful whine.

Not long after, terrified shrieks rent the air. Sima plugged her ears with her fingers, curled in a ball against the wall, and waited for this strange nightmare to end. She thought of Razi and where he might be now. Worse, she thought of Sister Lensi standing in the doorway, her hulking body blocking the assassin’s thievery the day she was murdered.

“Why?” she whispered, over and over.
“Why Lensi, why?”
She didn’t have to die, didn’t have to stand against the Empire like that…in such a direct way. Sima rocked back and forth until the screams in the next room suddenly died. She unplugged her ears.

She’d overheard her captor on a conference with her father’s secretary. They still had not convinced the Shiemir that she was alive. They’d sent in clippings of her hair, a small section of skin and even blood samples…to no avail. Nevertheless, she knew that a meeting was discussed and would be finalized at the double suns’ set.

Footsteps padded softly outside the room. Someone knocked three times.

Standing on shaky legs, Sima went to open it as she’d been instructed. Wearing a pair of black trousers, her captor stood before her, an impressive vision of masculine prowess, muscles bulging,
skin
adorned with inked-in diagrams of planets and stars. She glanced over the splash of blood across his cheek, the scratch mark beneath his small sunglasses and frowned. “She’s dead.”

He nodded. “It’s time to go.” He snatched her sore wrist and dragged her forth. As they swept past the open doorway, she gaped at the body splayed and nude across the bed. Melia’s death had been horrid, her body crooked and broken, her eyes gouged out, her mouth wide. Her screams echoed in Sima’s mind. The man who pulled her along was no man at all, but a ruthless killer. He’d murdered Lensi, now Melia. She could only imagine how many others he’d ended.