Rogue (6 page)

I didn't faint, exactly, but I came pretty close, for the corridor darkened just then, and I began seeing spots where moments before there had been none.

Slipping an arm around my waist for support and pushing the door open, he said, "You need to lie down.

The heat is affecting your brain."

"Oh, is that what it is?" I mumbled. "Funny, I thought it was you."

It was dark in my room—if this was my room— and I couldn't see his face very well, but I heard him chuckle softly.

"What's so funny?" I demanded.

" You
are," he replied.

"You know something? You don't act like a slave. I mean, slaves aren't supposed to laugh at their masters, or flirt with the ladies, are they?"

"I was not born a slave," he said. "Perhaps that's why I behave differently."

"Really?" I murmured. "How did you end up here, then?"

"At the end of the war in which my planet was destroyed, several members of my unit were taken prisoner. We were to be executed, but an enterprising fellow thought he could make a few credits by selling us, instead. My brother Trag and I were lucky enough to be bought by Scalia."

"Lucky?"

He laid me down on the bed before answering me.

It wasn't made of stone, and it even had sheets on it— sheets that felt smooth, almost like satin. Rolling onto my side, I sighed with relief. Now if I could just get some more water...

"We are both still alive," he said, "and slaves are seldom treated as well as we have been."

"Well, if you don't mind wearing nothing but a collar." I thought for a moment and added, "Make that
two
collars."

He laughed again, saying: "We prefer it that way.

We don't like to wear clothing any more than the Darconians do."

"Mm-hm," I murmured. "Well, you look very nice without it. Some guys wouldn't."

"Thank you."

He was so close that I could feel the heat radiating from his body and his breath, warm on my cheek. His lips couldn't have been very far away, either—his full, succulent, kissable lips. My own lips tingled with anticipation; I wanted to kiss him so badly... I had to change the subject before I did something stupid.

Clearing my throat with an effort, I said, "So, you're going to look after me, then? Wash my socks and comb my hair?"

"I'll do anything you wish for me to do," he said.

"Anything at all."

"You shouldn't say that," I warned him. "You might not like what I wish for."

"I doubt that," he said, his amusement evident in his voice. Obviously, he didn't consider my "wishes" to be much of a threat.

"What do
you
wish for?" I asked curiously. "Freedom?"

"I
have
wished for that in the past," he replied thoughtfully. "But now, I'm looking forward to serving you in
any
way I can."

Give up the chance for freedom to serve a woman?

That
didn't sound like anything a man had ever said to me before, regardless of what planet he hailed from— though, of course, I'd never met a slave. "Aw, you're making that up," I protested.

"No," he said, his voice deepening slightly. "Aside from freedom, my life here has lacked only one thing."

"And that is?"

With his reply, his voice dropped a full octave, sending tendrils of desire curling around my heart. "Love,"

he replied. "And I believe you are the one who will change that."

"Me?" I gasped. He might have been suggesting the very thing I'd had on my mind ever since laying eyes on him, but at the same time, the idea scared me a little. I'm
such
a wuss... "B-but I might not stay long here long," I sputtered. "I may not be able to tolerate the heat, the Princess might not be able to play a note on the piano—anything could happen!" I paused, groping blindly for some plausible excuse. "And, besides, I wouldn't want to be the one to break your heart.

You know me: old love 'em and leave 'em Kyra!"

This was an out-and-out lie, and, if his chuckle was any indication, he knew it. He was so close that the soft glow of his eyes shone right into mine. "Go ahead and do it, Kyra," he urged in a deep, rough voice. "Break my heart."

What I saw in his eyes scared me even more. It wasn't just passion or desire, it was hunger: a desperate, all-consuming hunger.

"You want me to break your heart?" I whispered nervously.

"Loving you would be worth a broken heart."

I wasn't sure, but I had an idea he could stomp the hell out of mine, and it would be worth the pain. Perhaps he was desperate enough to feel the same way.

"The men of my world were warriors out of necessity," he went on, "but we were made for love. It is our purpose—one which has been denied throughout the years of our enslavement. The Darconian women may find us attractive, but their scent doesn't arouse us, and if the scent of a woman's desire is not present, we cannot mate."

"That's odd," I croaked. "Human men can mate with"—I paused for a moment to think about that, before adding,—"anything."

"Is that so?" he said with surprise. "We cannot. Our women were always very reluctant, and to bring out the scent of their desire, we had to...
entice
them."

Swallowing hard, I said glibly, "Well, if you don't mind my saying so, I think you got it right; you guys are irresistible." I saw a change of topic and grabbed it like a lifeline. "So, are there any of your women left?"

"Perhaps," he replied with a shrug, "but our enemies were very thorough."

"Jealous husbands?" I suggested.

"Maybe," he said. The glow in his eyes increased again. "Tell me, Kyra: would
your
husband be jealous of me?"

I had an idea that any husband I might have had would have killed him just for looking at me like that.

"He might—if I had a husband, that is." The tension broke then, and I dissolved into giggles. "'Once you go cat, you never go back,'" I chanted. I was getting downright goofy—it must have been the wine, or the heat, or something—but suddenly, more than anything in the world, I wanted him lying there beside me. The Darconians weren't the only ones who liked a warm body to sleep with—and his was one of only three warm bodies within dozens of light-years, including my own.

It struck me then just how alone I was. The Darconians were far more fearsome than he and his brother could ever be, and that realization gave me the courage to say something I ordinarily wouldn't have. "Would you lie down with me?" I asked. "Just for a little while."

Obviously, he really
would do
anything I asked of him, because the bed promptly dipped beneath his weight as he settled in behind me. Within seconds, the heat of his body sent blood rushing to my erogenous zones like a flood. I tried to focus on something—anything—else. It was strange to think that a short while ago, I hadn't even known he existed, and now, here he was in my bed with his arm draped over me, and I still didn't know his name.

"You look like a Siberian tiger," I said impulsively.

"Tiger?" he echoed curiously. "And what is a tiger?"

His voice was gentle and teasing, like a caress, and I felt its effects all the way to my toes. Oh, yes, falling for him would be
so
easy; resisting him would be
so
hard...

"A species of big hunting cats," I explained, doing my best to keep my tone brisk and informative. "They live in a place on Earth where it's cold and snowy, and they're black and white striped and have blue eyes. At least, I think their eyes are blue," I said, my brain still a bit fuzzy. "I'm not sure."

Picking up my braid, he brought it to his face and sniffed as though he was inhaling the sweet scent of a rose. "And do you
like
tigers?" he prompted.

"They're very beautiful," I replied, "but also very dangerous. Like you."

His throaty chuckle nearly set off another orgasm.

"But I am not dangerous," he protested.

"No? Perhaps not right now, but I think you could be. Very dangerous." As I lay there drifting for a while, I noticed that my head was swimming less since I'd lain down, but I still felt odd, though it might have been because he was spooned up against me so intimately.

His fingertips were tracing patterns on my hip, sending scores of tingles racing up and down my spine. As he snuggled closer, I felt his other hand began to tease the stray tendrils of hair at my temple, and his breath was tantalizingly warm on my neck. My body began to tremble with a level of desire that was impossible to ignore.

Inhaling deeply, he whispered, "You smell of desire, Kyra—a scent I had nearly forgotten."

I didn't have to ask what that scent did to him, because I could feel the thick hardness of his cock pressing against my backside. He seemed to be capable of moving it, too, for it left a trail of moisture behind as it swept back and forth. I'd never heard of a man with so much control of his cock, and all I could think of was what it would feel like to have him moving inside me...

Of course, what I
really
should have been thinking about was what would happen if I messed around with one of the Queen's slaves! Cernada had said that the Queen would not permit it, so if I ever did anything of that nature I'd probably be beheaded, or at the very least, banished from the palace! Was he worth the risk?

For that matter, was any man worth that risk? Generally speaking, they were nothing but trouble. What was I thinking to ask him to lie down with me? I had to get him out of my bed—or at least find something else for him to do... "I'm so thirsty."

"I'll get you some water," he said promptly.

I missed his presence beside me almost immediately.

"Hey, um, Tiger," I called out. "You still haven't told me your name."

"You may call me Tiger, if you like," he said. "There are few who can pronounce my name." I could hear him pouring water into a glass. From a pitcher, I thought glumly. So much for running water...

"Tell me what it is tomorrow," I suggested. "I'll be thinking more clearly by then, and maybe I can say it."

"Maybe," he said. "Here, drink this." Sliding an arm beneath my shoulders for support, he held the glass to my parched lips. The water was blissfully cool, and I felt it coursing through my body when I swallowed it, but the feel of his arm around me was enough to turn that water to steam. He even smelled good, and though I couldn't actually identify any specific scent—it was more like inhaling his essence—it made me want more. In the faint moonlight, I could just make out the sparkling stones on his cock ring and wished there was enough light to see him clearly.

To my surprise, the light suddenly became brighter, as though a cloud had moved aside, fully illuminating his thick shaft. It was every bit as hard and shining as the stones he wore, and the syrupy fluid was still oozing from the scalloped corona of the head. I'd never even
dreamed
of a man like this, let alone ever had one at my disposal.

Oh, God!
He was going to get me into so much trouble...

Groaning miserably and murmuring my thanks, I sank back into the bed and wished for darkness to return. I was better off if
Icouldn
Ysee him... Maybe I was imagining things, but the room instantly grew darker.

"Would you like me to help you remove your dress?"

he asked, sounding more seductive than helpful. "It would be best if you did not sleep in it."

"Mmm, yes, I would like that very much," I said before I could stop myself. Regaining control of my tongue, I added, "But then again, I might like it a little
too
much. Maybe you should go on to bed yourself. I don't know what time it is here, but it must be getting pretty late."

I didn't know her very well, but somehow I didn't think Scalia would like the idea of me getting naked with her fancy, expensive slave boy—especially after what Cernada had said. Though as gorgeous as he was, surely Scalia should have known what might happen if she assigned him to me. Or perhaps she had... I reminded myself that she
had
seen my reaction to him, as well as his reaction to me. Scalia didn't seem at all stupid; she had to have known. Maybe he was a perk— something to make me want to stay, rather than deciding it was too darn hot on Darconia for a human being to tolerate—but I wished she'd been more specific about what I was allowed to do with him.

"It's so hot here," I muttered. "Is it always like this?

I mean, does it ever cool off or rain?"

His tone of voice changed along with the subject, going from seductive to informative in the space of a heartbeat. "The desert does cool at night," he said, "but the palace walls keep the internal temperature fairly consistent, so I don't think you'll get cold. It hardly ever rains here, but there is more rainfall in the mountains."

Somehow I doubted that it would be enough to sustain any kind of forest; those mountains had to be as stark and barren as the rest of the desert. "Have you ever been there?"

"The mountains? No," he replied. "But I have seen the storms from the palace windows."

"Never get out, do you?"

"No."

"Do you want to?"

"Sometimes," he replied warily.

"Well, maybe I'll take you out to see those trees around the palace. If they ever let
me
out, that is," I added.

I was getting very sleepy—either that, or breathing in his aura had a relaxing effect. I was nearly asleep when I remembered something else I needed to ask him. "How do you turn on the lights?"

"Do you want them on?" The seductive edge to his voice returned.

"Well, no, not right now. I just wanted to know how to do it."

"That is how they operate," he said. "You have only to think that you need light, and they will illuminate."

"Can they tell if I'm lying?"

"No."

I opened my eyes. It was pitch-dark, and I thought I could use a little light. I wanted to see his eyes again, anyway, though they seemed to glow all by themselves.

Slowly, the stones in the walls and ceiling began to glimmer. "That is so cool!" I exclaimed. I looked up at the one on the ceiling and wished for it to grow dim— and it did. This was obviously what had occurred when I'd wanted to see his cock. I'd have to be more careful about what I wished for. "How do they do that?" I asked, making them brighten again.