Rogue (30 page)

The more we rode on without any pursuit or opposition, the more convinced I became that we had to be riding into a trap. Dobraton had to know we'd head for the mountains, but since the mountains were the chief source of the wealth of that region, she would undoubtedly have done her best to seize control of them along with the city. Leaving the mines to us made little sense, though it was possible that she was just plain stupid and hadn't figured that out yet. Well, no, I decided. Closed-minded she might be, but she wasn't stupid—at least not altogether.

We were about halfway across the desert when this notion seemed to occur to Wazak, as well—either that, or he was finally getting tired, because he began slowing down.

I pushed my drayl to catch up to him.

"Getting tired?" I asked casually. "We could all use a break, you know."

"Perhaps," he replied. "I have been... thinking."

"Yeah, so have I, and I smell a rat."

"A rat?"

"Mm-hm, either that, or something's rotten in Denmark."

"Denmark?" he echoed. "Why is Denmark significant?"

"Oh, stop being so dense!" I said, becoming exasperated. "You know very well what I mean! Something's just not right about all of this! Someone should be coming after us, and they're not!"

"I concur."

"We got chased out of the palace, and now, nothing!

It doesn't make any sense."

"This is true," he agreed. "It has been far too easy."

"So, do you think we're heading into a trap?" I inquired.

"Or does Dobraton just not care what we do now?"

"I do not believe she considers us to be a threat to her any longer," he said.

"Possibly," I said hesitantly. "But is that true?
Are
we a threat? I mean, could we plan a counterattack and be successful?"

Wazak appeared puzzled by this notion, almost to the point that I thought he was only planning to get us to the mountains and stay there, hiding out for the rest of our lives.

"You are thinking about fighting back, aren't you?"

I demanded. "Surely you're not just going to take this lying down!" When he didn't reply, I went on to ask, "Tell me something, Wazak, has there ever been an overthrow like this before?"

"Not for many centuries," he replied.

"Hmm, well, maybe Dobraton just doesn't know how to organize a decent coup. You know, killing off the royal family is usually a pretty effective means of destroying a monarchy, but she's left the job undone—or does she think the desert will do it for her?"

"For the offworlders, perhaps," he conceded. "But we Darconians would not perish in the desert."

"Well, maybe that's it, then. She's just waiting for the rest of us to die off, and then she'll strike again."

"She may be waiting for us to retaliate," Tychar suggested. "In an open battle, if their numbers were greater..."

"They could just mow us down," I finished for him.

"Be a lot easier than chasing after us, I suppose."

"I think Wazak's right," Trag said. "I think she doesn't consider us to be a threat and isn't wasting any time on us."

"It wouldn't be the first time a small band of rebels was underestimated," I remarked.

"Meaning you think we
should
try to fight back?"

asked Trag.

"Well," I said reasonably, "do
you
want to spend the rest of your life hiding out in the mountains?"

"Kyra, dear," Trag said sweetly. "I've spent most of my life doing light housekeeping in a palace full of lizards while wearing nothing but a collar and a cock ring and
still
didn't have sex for twenty years! Hanging out in the mountains sounds like a fucking vacation to me! At least I've got you and the redhead to make things interesting."

Nindala's spine stiffened visibly. "I would rather consort with one of the Darconians!" she said with evident disgust.

This was a rather tactless thing for her to say, seeing as how Dragus and Wazak were both walking along-side us. I was thankful that the younger ones had fallen back into their own little pack and probably couldn't hear what we were saying. "I could arrange that," I said promptly. "I know Dragus would be interested. He'd probably kill you, though. If his dick is anything like the rest of him, it's probably huge."

"Aw, Dragus is a slut," Trag said dismissively. "You should try me. You might even like me."

"I thought you didn't like blue," I reminded him.

"I don't," said Trag. "It's just that now we're out and about, I've got more options, and Ty never did like the idea of sharing you, anyway."

"You
shared
'her?" Nindala was clearly aghast at such wanton behavior on my part.
"Kyra?"

"Things have changed quite a bit since I saw you last," I admitted. "These guys belonged to the Queen, but she assigned Tychar to me as my personal..."

"Slave," Tychar said bluntly. "We were slaves."

Trag gave Nindala a nudge, and she jumped as though he'd bitten her. "Sex slaves, actually. Only we never had any sex. Reptiles just don't smell right to us."

"Does
she?"
I asked curiously.

Trag leaned forward and sniffed at Nindala. "Nope,"

he replied. "Not getting a thing."

"If you don't smell of 'desire,' they can't get it up,"

I informed Nindala. "Now, Dragus likes humans very well, and the way you smell probably wouldn't matter to him. Don't know how he feels about blue, though."

Dragus looked up at me and grinned. "I like blue just fine. "You see!" Trag said. "What did I tell you? He's a fuckin' slut! You can insult him all day long, and he'll still fuck you."

"Or get himself off," I chuckled. "At least, I
think
that was what was all over the floor in the corridor yesterday."

"Yesterday?" Wazak said, pouncing on that pertinent detail. "
That
is how Jataka slipped and fell?"

"Well, I
did tell
Dragus to clean it up," I said, "but he must have missed a spot."

Wazak actually stopped and pulled my drayl to a halt.

Looking me right in the eye, he said, "Do you mean to say that we escaped from the palace only because there was semen on the floor outside The Shrine?"

"Well, I hadn't thought about it that way," I admitted, "but now that you mention it, yes, I suppose that's true."

I had never heard Wazak laugh before—and it took a moment for the humor of the situation to sink in— but his serious mask of a face finally cracked, and he doubled over, laughing hysterically.

Trag was cackling too. "We're all alive because Dragus is a slut!"

Dragus just shrugged his big shoulders and grinned in a completely unapologetic fashion.

Tychar was laughing too. "We must have been better than I thought," he whispered in my ear.

"We were better than all three of us put together, actually," I whispered back. "I know I made plenty of noise, but still, he must have really good ears to be able to hear through the door like that."

Dragus glanced up at me with a guilty expression— the acuity of his hearing becoming even more evident.

Tychar saw it, too. "What was that look for, Dragus?"

Tychar demanded. "Is there something you aren't telling us?

"I promise not to use it again," Dragus said quickly.

"Use
what?"
Tychar asked, sounding quite dangerous. So, my charming rogue could be a tough guy when the need arose.
Interesting...

"The comstone," Dragus replied reluctantly. "There's one in the necklace."

"Do you mean to say you've been listening in on us?"

Tychar demanded.

"Well, not a/7 the time," Dragus said, hedging just a bit. "Just... sometimes."

Growling, Tychar plucked my necklace from around my neck and inspected it closely. "Which one?"

"The green stone," Dragus replied in a sulky voice.

Twisting the link, Tychar removed the stone and threw it at Dragus. "You may keep that and be thankful that I am not one to hold a grudge." Tychar may have been a slave, but his commanding tone was enough to make anyone think twice before crossing him—even a Darconian.

"Good thing he
doesn't
hold a grudge," Trag said meekly. "He'd probably kill me for doing what I did with you. Glad I decided to quit bugging you before we wound up being freed."

"No kidding!" I agreed. "But remember, you're out and about now and have more options."

"Well, I may be out and about," he admitted, "but I don't think it'll do me much good, because Miss Blue-butt doesn't like me—and I'm not so sure I like her, either. She smells all... blue."

"Well, who knows what we'll find in the mountains,"

I said in an effort to cheer him up a bit. "Maybe there'll be some other offworld refugees who smell even better than I do."

"Not unless there's a Zetithian woman hiding out there—or another Terran," Trag grumbled. "And somehow, I doubt that."

"Well, just give her a little time," I suggested, with a gesture toward Nindala. "She might warm up to you, and then you'll be able to smell her desire."

Trag mumbled something I didn't quite catch, but the gist of it was that he was expecting hell to freeze over before that happened, and Nindala's expression did nothing to suggest otherwise. Then I remembered that Nindala only liked rich men, and thought perhaps that Trag ought to remind her that he was wearing the value of half a space cruiser. I didn't suggest it, though, because I've always been of the opinion that women who required pretty baubles to stimulate their interest in a man weren't worth having, and a man who had to resort to bribery wasn't worth much, either. Trag shouldn't have to stoop to buying a woman's favors; he deserved much better than that.

Even so, the need for scent notwithstanding, I didn't see how any man, Zetithian or otherwise, could have ridden double on a drayl with Nindala and not wanted to screw her silly, whether she smelled right or not. I mean, she was beautiful, and she was naked, for heaven's sake!

Trag had his hands resting on her hips and could have easily reached up to fondle her spectacular tits. There was only the sheet he was wearing between his cock and her ass, and, sure, we were running for our lives, but
still...

Experimentally, I shifted my weight backward and felt Tychar's hard cock pressing against my tailbone.

You couldn't hide anything from those guys: if you were in the mood, they knew it, no matter how much you might try to deny it.

"And when we reach safety," Tychar whispered in my ear, "I will do my best to make you very pleased that you chose me instead of my brother."

If there was anything he hadn't already done to convince me of that, it must've been some minute detail that I'd never have missed. "I think you already have," I said.

"But I have no problem with being convinced again."

Leaning back against him with a sigh, I sincerely wished every dire fate anyone could imagine to befall Dobraton for making this trek across the desert necessary. I would have been waking up in my bed after a night of love with Tychar right about now if it hadn't been for her—the bitch! Still, her actions had made it possible, however unintentionally, for the two brothers to be free. It seemed ironic that they had been enslaved by a queen who had admired them greatly, but were subsequently freed by someone who would prefer that they had never set foot on her planet.

By this time, Wazak had recovered from his bout of mirth and got us moving once again, and it was surprising just how much better I felt. It hadn't been a very long rest—a couple of days wouldn't have been amiss—but a good laugh will often do wonders for morale.

Purring softly, Tychar settled me against his chest, secure in his arms. His cock was getting wet, and I could feel it sliding up my backbone with every step the drayl took. I wondered idly if he would ejaculate at some point, and if he did, I wanted a taste of it; a little euphoria would have been nice after the kind of night we'd had.

Maybe that would be what it would take to get Nindala interested in Trag. So far, I hadn't had the opportunity to explain to her just how fabulous my tigers were. She was stupid not to want Trag on sight, though—they were both irresistible! Then again, she had been admired by men all her life, and perhaps it would take more to sway her than it had with me. I couldn't begin to imagine why, though, because even the most jaded beauty would have to admit that they were devastatingly attractive—especially Tychar.

"Sleep now, Kyra," he purred. "And when you awaken, the desert will be behind us."

Relaxing against my purring tiger, I fell asleep thinking about what truly was behind me, and it certainly wasn't the desert!

MY DREAMS WERE WILD AND FITFUL AS WE RODE ON. ONE

moment I was safe and warm in my lover's arms, and the next, I was watching Dragus ejaculate all over Dobraton. Then I dreamed that Trag was fucking Nindala for all he was worth, groaning as sweat dripped from his body, his balls slapping hard against her ass as he pounded into her. She was screaming for more, but he was all played out. When the inevitable happened and he lost his erection, she hissed at him like a snake and struck him full across the face.

I awoke with a shout forming in my throat, but the mountains looming ahead of us terrified me more than any dream could have done. There were huge boulders among the foothills that could have concealed any number of enemies, and the mountains themselves seemed to be closing in on us as though they couldn't wait to lure us in for the kill.

"Spooky place," I said to no one in particular.

"And to think,
this
is where I would have gone if I ever escaped from the palace," Tychar said grimly.

"There isn't a drop of water anywhere."

"The water is on the other side," Wazak said. "It is the mountains which stop the rains from reaching the desert."

"Are you saying we have to climb
over
these mountains to find water?" Trag gasped in horror. "We'll never make it!"

Despite the fact that they were acrobats and could have made mountain climbing look easy, the Edraitians began grumbling, too.

"We do not have to climb the mountains," Wazak said patiently. "There is a tunnel through them, though it may be defended against us."