Charlotte Boyett-Compo- WIND VERSE- Hunger's Harmattan (27 page)

“I know you were going to stay here in
Leveche’s stronghold,” her mother said. “But we don’t think that’s a good idea
with Ailyn having been so close to death. You should go back to Riezell with
the healer just in case.”

Shanee’s shoulders slumped. “Aye, I think
you’re right.” She looked up as her two Class 10s came lumbering into the
sickbay. She gave the larger of the two an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Primä
One,” she said. “I know you wanted to tear apart those Ceannus ’bots.”

The Class 10 ’bot nodded. “Another time,
milady,” it declared.

“You may stand down,” she said. “I’m afraid
you make him nervous.”

Quinn snorted. “Them? They’re pussycats,
aren’t you, Primä One?”

“Unless we are rolling downhill, milord,”
the ’bot said then chuckled, startling everyone in the room. It nodded again
then pivoted around and with its partner close behind shuffled from the room.

“Did you program those ’bots with humor?”
Polemusa asked her daughter.

“I’m trying to make them more
Ailyn-friendly,” Shanee answered. “He is uneasy around them.”

“That could be because Cean used them to
torture him,” Quinn said. “Give him time, Shanee. He’ll come to like those ’bots
as much as I do.”

“Let’s get going, Phantom,” Polemusa said.
“My sword hand is itching and you look as though you are having Elfinish
withdrawal.”

Quinn’s eyebrows shot up. “Another Amazeen
with a sense of humor? The gods preserve us! What is the megaverse coming to?”

“Tell the Burgon I’ll be seeing him,”
Polemusa said.

“I’m sure he’ll be interested to hear
that,” Leveche mumbled as he struggled to sit up on the gurney. “Steady as she
goes, Rory.”

Quinn saluted the Reaper then with Polemusa
walking ahead of him, got into the elevator.

“Are you okay?” Shanee asked.

“I hurt like hell but that’s to be
expected,” Leveche said. He slumped on the gurney. “Thought I could stand up
but I’m thinking better of that notion.” He looked over at Ailyn. “How’s he
doing?”

“Healing,” Shanee told him. “Sleeping
easily.”

“Good,” Leveche said then heaved a long
sigh. “I was worried.”

“You should worry about the Burgon,” she
said. “I believe my mother has him in her sights.”

Leveche shrugged. “Won’t do her any good.
Ry’s heart is well on the way to being claimed.”

* * * * *

Ryden Bakari sheathed his scythesword, took
one last look at the body of the man he had executed then left the gymnasium,
kicking at the black ashes that were sprinkled in his path. He went to his
private quarters, locked the door then stripped out of his black uniform and
climbed into a piping hot shower that washed away the day’s accumulation of
death and destruction.

He had no regrets about the deaths that had
been dealt on his ship or those that had ended on the Ceannus LRC. He did
regret however, not being able to take Perse Cean’s life himself. Her evil had
deserved more pain, more retribution, than an instantaneous flash of fire and
exploding body parts.

Lowering his head, he let the water drum
down on his tired muscles. Tomorrow, he would once more set out on his quest to
find Riordan O’Shay and bring the bastard to justice. It was the one goal he
had set for himself that he would follow until one of them was dead—and he had
no intention of being the one to depart first.

His thick salt-and-pepper hair clinging to
the sides of his face, he straightened up and raked his hands through the soggy
mass. The scar on the side of his face tingled as it usually did when his
thoughts turned murderous. Vaguely he heard the vid-com chime on and turned to
look out the glass side of the shower.

“Burgon?”

It was
her
sweet, melodic voice and
he quickly reached for the shower handles to stop the water. With his heart in
his throat, he opened the door and—not even thinking—hurried over to the
screen.

“Aye, dearling? Is something wrong?”

Her brown eyes lowered and he realized he
was standing before her stark naked.

“Nothing is wrong. You are well, Sir?”

“I am,” he said, and forced himself to
stand still and not try to hide his bare body from her view. He wanted her to
see him. He wanted her to know what he could offer her.

She lifted her gaze and it seemed to burn
into him as it wandered slowly over his flesh. She did not blush—she’d seen a
man’s genitals before. Nor did she look away.

“Will you be leaving tomorrow in search for
your quarry?” she asked as she met his heated gaze.

“Aye,” he replied, and felt his heart
racing.

“Then stay safe, milord, and hurry home,”
she said. “May the Wind be at your back.”

“And at yours, dearling,” he whispered.

Then she was gone and the brightness and
peace that was slowly filtering back into his dark world fled with her.

Epilogue

Shanee had come to the conclusion that all
men were alike. None of them had ever outgrown his childhood and would revert
to it at the most irritating times. Stubborn, obstinate, willful,
inflexible—all were adjectives to describe a male’s inability to see reason.

“Ailyn…” she warned, her head tilted to one
side.

“No.”

“Ailyn…” she warned again.

“No.”

He was clinging to the bedpost and the
thought went through her mind that she should tackle him, put his ass back in
bed and tie him down, but the mulish pout on his lips was so comical she was
having a hard time not laughing.

“You are not supposed to be up,” she
reminded him.

“I have to pee, Shanee,” he complained.

“I’ll hold the urinal…” she began, but he
was thrashing his head back and forth in denial.

“I want to pee in the toilet,” he said. “I
will
pee in the toilet and I’ll do it on my own. My piss is going in the toilet
this time!”

“Well, most of it anyway,” she mumbled.
Like all women, she knew it was virtually impossible for a man to get all his
urine in the toilet.

“I am going into the bathroom,” he
pronounced, and let go of the bedpost. He wobbled, staggered a bit but he
managed to get into the bathroom without toppling over.

Shanee had to be content to straighten his
covers, fluff his pillow and wait for him to come out so she could wipe up the
floor behind him. When he came back, he scrambled into the bed without being
told to and turned over on his side.

“I’m ready,” he said.

She reached for the vac-syringe and quickly
gave him his morning tenerse, wincing with him as the potent, fiery med coursed
down the vein in his neck. She waited until he had turned over to his back and
scooted up in the bed before adjusting the covers over him.

“I am so fucking tired of lying in this
bed,” he complained as he took the glass of Sustenance she had waiting for him.

“Another few days according to Tariq’s
instructions and you can be up and about,” she said. “Not today. Not tomorrow,
but the day after.”

She watched him silently mimicking her
words before he drained the glass then held it out to her like the little boy
of whom he so forcefully reminded her.

“Did Primä One give you your tenerse?” he
asked.

“Primä Two did. I sent Primä One on an
errand.”

“Scaring the damned people in the
neighborhood no doubt,” he grumbled.

Her lips twitched but she made no comment
to his moody remark.

“Where are you going?” he asked as she
turned to leave.

“I have an appointment with General Strom,”
she replied. “Primä Two will be here if you…”

“I’m not talking to that ’bot,” he snapped.
“You tell him to stay the hell away from me.” He narrowed his eyes. “Why are
you going to Command Central? What’s going on?”

“I’m taking a few months leave,” she said.

“You?” he asked, his eyes wide. “Why?”

“So we can go back to Theristes for a
while,” she replied. “I’d like to see Tariq and Bahiya, see how Jules is doing
with his ’bot.”

He seemed to relax. “Can’t you come lie
down with me until I fall asleep?” he asked. The dose of tenerse also contained
a bit of pairilis to help him rest. Already he was getting groggy.

“Just for a minute,” she said, and went
over to her side of the bed and climbed in, stretching out beside him.

He put his head on her shoulder and was
quiet for so long she thought he’d fallen to sleep but just as she started to
get up, he said, “He wasn’t with her.”

Shanee frowned. “Who,
ehemann
?”

“Acklard,” he said. “He wasn’t with her on
R-9 and he’s out there doing the gods only know what.”

She knew that preyed on his mind. He had
suggested they ask Strom if they could be assigned to find Acklard and the
other Ceannus, to put an end to their reign of potential terror.

“They’re still looking for Chiaroscuro,”
she said. “When they find it, we’ll go after him.”

“And kill the bastard who hurt me,” he
said, his voice muffled by the drug.

“Aye, and kill the bastard who hurt you.”

She heard his breathing slow and knew he
was asleep. She eased his head from her shoulder and bent over to kiss his
brow.

He was such a handsome man and her heart
and soul belonged entirely to him.

Tomorrow would be time enough to tell him
about the baby growing inside her.

Also by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

Ellora’s Cavemen: Dreams of the Oasis IV
anthology

Ellora’s Cavemen: Legendary Tails I
anthology

Fated Mates
anthology

HardWind

Passion’s Mistral

Shades of the Wind

WesternWind: Prime Reaper

WesternWind: Reaper’s Revenge

WesternWind: WyndRiver Sinner

WindVerse: Ardor’s Leveche

WindVerse: Phantom of the Wind

WindVerse: Pleasure’s Foehn

WindVerse: Prisoners of the Wind

WindWorld: Desire’s Sirocco

WindWorld: Longing’s Levant

WindWorld: Lucien’s Khamsin

WindWorld: Rapture’s Etesian

And see Charlotte Boyett-Compo’s
stories at Cerridwen Press

 (www.cerridwenpress.com):

BlackWind: Sean and Bronwyn

BlackWind: Viraiden and Bronwyn

Desert Wind

In the Wind’s Eye

Taken By the Wind

Discover for yourself why readers can’t get
enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora’s Cave. Whether you
prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at
www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you
breathless.

www.ellorascave.com