The Fly House (The UtopYA Collection) (34 page)

"Very good," Breathe said.  "Are you ready to speak?"

"Yes," Diem said. 

Breathe gestured to the windows and the faces disappeared.  Diem heard the clamber of feet as the House occupants filed out to the back lot.  Their murmur rose as they discussed all the possibilities of why the meeting was called and who the strange girl with the odd shoes was, who arrived with their Rha.  Breathe went up the steps and through the front door of the House ahead of them.

Diem placed his hand at the small of Maeve's back as he bent to whisper in her ear.  "Do not forget.  I am your intended and you are from Rha Shown's bloodline."

Maeve murmured and Diem dipped his head lower to hear her words.  She turned her head and whispered in his ear, "And I'm not wearing any underwear."

Diem's mouth opened, closed.  He hadn't expected that.  Even less expected was the simultaneous tightness in his balls and that which quickly bloomed from his chest to his fists, as he thought of the other Housemen looking at her. 

Maeve peered curiously around the House as they walked from the front door to the back one, but Diem's thoughts were erased.  He barely recognized his name as one of his Housemen greeted him and found himself scowling at the man without reason.  Diem nearly forgot that his place was to stand at the top step of the stairs leading to the back yard, in order to address the occupants of his House. 

He managed to catch Maeve's hand before she descended into the crowd and hold her in place, a step below him.  Every eye was quickly upon her.  Diem's gaze skipped through the familiar faces of his Housemen, suspicious that each of them were contemplating the terrain beneath Maeve's skirt.  When she took a step back up, so she was on his same footing, he was relieved.  He stepped slightly in front of her, partially blocking her from view.

It didn't help.  Diem imagined each Houseman to be envisioning no barrier beneath Maeve's skirt, which Diem knew to be true.  He'd felt the lack of extra fabric when she'd been cradled between his legs.  He glanced now at the hem of her skirt.  Her unguarded sex could be made available with the lift of the slightest breeze. 

A predatory growl rumbled in Diem' throat.  He coughed it away into his fist as he forced his eyes off her. 

He was the Rha, for Ahanas's sake.  He
was not new to manhood.  He began his address, but not in the way he had originally planned.

"I have taken an intended," he boomed, his voice resonating from his diaphragm in a way that filled him with satisfaction.  Some of the Housemen averted their eyes from Maeve, now that he'd made the declaration.  However, Diem noted the number of eyes that were still upon her.  "Her name is..."

He stopped short, his eyes cutting to hers.  Her name was not traditional.  It would raise suspicion.  Why hadn't he thought of it before this second?  He wanted time to think on it, to rename her in a way that was not only beautiful and fitting to her, but that also marked her as his. 

To be named was a
celebratory event among Houses, a competitive display of definition.  The more beautiful the meaning of the name, the more gracefully it applied to the lives they all lived, was equivalent to draping blessings and adornment on the life of the child.  So, as Maeve opened her mouth, he rushed to speak over her, before she could tell them the truth.

"Aimed," Diem boomed.  It was as if the name came out of his mouth before he even thought of it, as if it were always there, waiting upon his lips.  A re-organization of the letters in his own name, with the addition of the first letter in the alphabet.  The meaning to him was clear in several ways
—she was a Diem, a female version of himself in many ways, and she had incredible confidence in the directions she wished to go.   

Maeve took a deep breath, as if she were preparing to correct him, but Diem projected over t
he top of her in a low thunder, "Her name is Aimed and she originates from Hold House.   This woman was named for the past hope and the future hope that our destinies are yet pointed toward our happiness.  However, I call her Mae, in honor of an archaic season's name, which brought renewal to the Earth in its time."

The women in the crowd had mixed reactions, some smiling and cooing, some glowering and holding their hands in front of their mouths, to whisper jealousies.  It was a sure sign that the name was well chosen, but Diem didn't care what the
House women thought.  His concern was still with the men who seemed intent on catching Maeve's eye, while avoiding his. 

He could not race off the porch and challenge his own Housemen to the battles he suddenly craved.  Diem's eyes jumped from one admirer to another.  Forge's shadow pulled softly across the yard.

From the crowd, a Houseman suddenly shouted, "Are we here to admire a woman?  I could have stayed to my room and admired my own!"

"Definitely not.  I also have news from the Head Overseer, Shetbahg," Diem announced.  Snickers and chuckles drifted away from the crowd.  Diem let the heavy line of his lips tell his House just what type of news he was bringing.  Or maybe they only transmitted his guilt.  His part in the Hope Market, although it had brought his House the ability to survive, which was considered flourishing in comparison to the other Houses, was the reason for this awful news. 

Diem's jawline tightened along with his stomach.  He saw the cascading effect as the Housemen's faces soon mirrored the grim expression of his own.  He began again. 

"The trans shipments have been reported as being short," he said.  A burst of gasps and muttered curses fluttered through the crowd.  Diem felt the spotlight blame of his previous decision to take part in the Hope Market.  His Housemates' judgments, perceived or true he did not know, but they forced a sweat from him.  He forced himself to continue.  "The Plutians will be expanding their harvest.  They will no longer be offering only dragons."

Diem's eyes found Breathe.  His Gra covered her mouth, as if she already knew what he was going to say. 

"The Plutians," Diem said, "have decided to harvest humans as well."

The horrible gasps rippled through the crowd.  The Housemen cursed, some of the women began to cry, pulling their children close.  Nine was an impossible number.  The whole crowd pressed together, bodies close, their disagreements forgotten as they clung to one another. 

"They expect one human to replace each
dragon we are short of quota," Diem continued.  "The quotas have also been raised.  We must produce nine dragons per house, per season."

"But our numbers have always depended upon the dragons we receive from Ice House and Hot House," Rest, the wash woman, said.  "If they deliver four to us, than we only have four to train."

"I assume the Plutians will provide more eggs for incubation," Diem said, but he knew it was a lie.  He knew the numbers were intentionally high.  It was the humans the Plutians truly wanted.  "The shortages will be covered first by my own blood line."

The gasps rose up again.  A woman reached her arm out to Breathe.  Diem watched some of the House occupants scour the crowd for Karma.  Without finding her, he understood when they cast their suspicious glares to him again.  It would be a logical assumption that Diem would hide his beloved sister, but he decided not to address Karma's whereabouts.

"This season, we will have enough," Diem said.

"And what of next season?" Nice, one of the dragon feeders, asked from the outskirts of the crowd.  "Cold Season One is upon us and the dragons only mate during the cold season.  They do not lay their eggs until the hot seasons begin again.  That is six seasons away.  Do the other Houses have such a surplus to cover the next six cold seasons?"

"I do not know," Diem said.  He chose his next lie carefully.  "I would assume that they do."

"This is the fault of the Hope Marketing!" a man shouted.  It was Momentum, a man known for his violent mating.  "Didn't I tell you all that we were on plan to lose?"

"The greed was our undoing!" someone else agreed.  Diem lost track of the anger as it increased, churning through the crowd with furious outbursts.  Breathe climbed the stairs, taking the spot beside Maeve before clanking the rail of the porch with a rock she had hidden in her palm.

"Diem did what he had to do to keep us all alive!" she shouted at the crowd.  "You know this.  Without the Hope Marketing, we would have all starved!  You were grateful for the
gorne then, so be grateful now too!  We have never harvested nine dragons consistently each season.  This is not Diem that is at fault for putting us on plan to lose!"

"But we are lost, all the same!" Momentum shouted.  "They will take us slowly, from what you say.  First, our leadership, then what?  Our women?  Our children?"

The dread swept over his people just as Forge's shadow did.  Their impetus limped away from the hope.  They would lose so much faster, if he could not change their focus.  Diem's fists curled at his thighs. 

"We will not lose," he boomed.

"How will we not?" Tick, the waste cleaner, asked.  "The Plutians allot us our food!  If they remove the gorne, we are finished!"

"Even if they could remove all the
gorne, we can survive on ratfish and hampigs, if we must," Breathe said.  "And do without, if need be."

"You speak as if we have great luxury to spare!" Momentum added.

"What is more important?" Breathe asked.  "Our sacrifice now, in which we learn a new way to live, or a life of independence for our children?" 

The group silenced with their former Rha's words.  It was the walk through fire they had expected, there was no denying it, but Breathe was not a woman who sacrificed her people.  They knew she would not allow a single person be surrendered if there were any other choice available and there was strength in that knowledge.  But not enough to comfort them completely.

Forge's massive silhouette drifted over the silent crowd. 

"They outnumber us!" a man's voice trailed the shadow.  "We are only a few hundred, and many of us are women and children!"

Diem felt Maeve's muscles harden beneath his touch.  The buckles of her boots jangled like snapping, metal teeth as she stepped forward.

"Women can fight alongside men," she boomed.  "We may not be as strong physically, but we make up for it with our mental strength and our superior intuition."

The women in the crowd gasped and laughed and groaned, but many tipped their chins to the men around them.  Diem saw how the females of his House suddenly looked upon Maeve in a way they had never looked at him.  He had garnered their yearning stares, their submissive glares, but they had never looked upon him with the sort of admiration and respect that they cumulatively cast upon Maeve now.  Two separate tingles, one of awe and one of pride, collided within his chest. 

He stepped forward, standing taller beside Maeve than he could have on his own. 

And then she reached for his hand.  It was unheard of, even for an intended.  Even for a Link.  The crowd seemed to lean forward, eager to see if Diem allowed this woman to stand, as an equal, beside their Rha.  Diem did not separate his hand from hers. 

"This is the beginning," he said.  "Our revolution is here.  Hold House is with us, as will the other Houses be."

Gain, another dragon feeder, shouted, "The Plutians still outnumber us!  How can we fight when they will send forces through the wormhole...Galls..."

The mention of the ferocious dragons paled the crowd.  Diem saw the odd flush flow through them, as if they were collectively assuming themselves as corpses already.

"The Rhas will discuss all projected outcomes and possibilities.  Understand, we will not risk any of our Houses without a plan worthy of success."

Forge dipped low, stirring up a dust in the yard as she gave one, clipped screech.

Diem felt Maeve jump as the crowd immediately dispersed, rushing into the House and into the spindlings, some running to take up work in the yard.   

"A Plutian is coming.  Probably our overseer," Diem whispered to Maeve as he fixed his hand to the small of her back.  He felt her body register the threat, her muscles hardening, rather than quivering, beneath his palm.  "It is time for us to go."

She nodded and he guided her back through the House, to the front yard.  Forge touched down with the grace of a feather rather than of a thousand-ton beast.  The dragon's great eye followed Maeve with a certain allegiance as Diem seated himself on the beast's body.  Forge's head turned, watching, as the human woman slid into the protective riding position between the master's legs.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN

Hot Season Six, Year 2095

Standing at the edge of the spindlings, Phuck looked upon the satisfying bustle of the Fly House.  It took him several moments to locate Karma.  She emerged from the spindlings and walked up the porch with Eon behind her.  She hovered close to her buzzardous Gra and whispered in the old woman's ear. 

Phuck had been so sure of himself, and his ability to have Karma, as he had stomped through the spindlings from his cabin, but as he stood on the outskirts of the House, he recognized a handful of things at once.  Karma had immense feeling for her fellow humans.  And they had immense feeling for her.  To march in and take her would likely get him trounced.  Even if his entire skin bag was filled with venom, which it wasn't, he still would not have enough to cover the hoarde of humans that would likely come to Karma's aid.  And one well-placed thwack of her Gra's cook spoon would be all it took to drop him like a boot. 

He didn't need that.  He needed Karma to want him.  But how endear himself to her?  Treats?  Stroking?  One couldn't simply hold her down by the neck and mate her like some hapless little hampig.  He couldn't force it or command it.  He wanted her to respond to him.  He wanted her adoration more than anything else.  His race would be disgusted to observe his thought process.  His desire to gain the admiration of a lesser being was a vulgar insult. 

He considered stealing Karma away and keeping her in a closet in his cabin, but he was sure it would not garner her endearments.  Instead, he wondered if he could capture her affections by giving her what she wanted most.  She wanted her brother and Gra to stay alive. 
Maintaining their lives was a good, strong wanting of Karma's, but to dangle that particular desire, as if he might take it away, could incite a hatred that was not the type of
hating
Phuck was looking for.  He needed to know more of her wantings and give them to her. 

Phuck sighed and mopped his brow.  He would watch Karma a little longer.  And then he would go to speak with Diem again.

***

Maeve felt Forge's hesitation beneath her.  So far above ground, the shudder in the dragon's skin sent Maeve pressing back against Diem's body.  His arms, already encircling her, constricted with reassuring pressure. 

"What's wrong with it?"  Maeve asked.

"It?  You mean, the dragon?  A dragon's senses are much more honed than ours.  Forge hears and smells and feels and sees things that you and I cannot sense.  Right now, I think she senses the other Rhas and their dragons are near her territory, near her hoarde.  She is makin
g a territorial growl.  This," Diem's thighs tightened around Maeve as he pressed his knees to the dragon's flanks, "is my signal to her to relax."

Maeve found herself relaxing with his words, his tone, the heat against her back.  His control was so unexpectedly arousing that Maeve melted against him. 

A second heartbeat jumped to life between her legs.  The beat strengthened as she focused on Diem's breath in her ear, the rhythm of his chest rising and lowering against her spine.  His hand relaxed from her waist and as it rested on her thigh, it made her a little crazy.  His fingertips held down the flapping edge of the skirt that was also caught beneath her leg. 

The thrum between her knees intensified even more.  His hand remained still, but Maeve's whole body quickly became one resounding drumbeat after another.  He had to feel it.  The vibration inside her was so intense that it made her angry with him.  Angry that his mouth wasn't on her neck, that his fingers weren't exploring her, that his cock wasn't punching a hole in her spine. 

Her body had never charged forward like this, without her mind goading it on first, but the insane pounding in her sex was unhinging her.  She could hardly stand it as she rocked forward on the dragon, planting her elbows in front of her and pressing her naked self to the hard plates beneath her in hope that she could relieve the sensation.  Her rear end rose slightly against the center of Diem's open legs.  Aching for his friction, she pressed against him, filled with an incredible mixture of shame and needing that she wasn't sure he'd reciprocate. 

His manhood sprang to life
—

The dragon roared and reared in the air, shooting a blaze into the clouds.  Maeve was flung backward. Diem caught her against his chest.  His shrill whistle rang in her ears.  The dragon bucked in the sky, the animal's head swinging to the right, toward its tail.  The beast's body followed the projection around in a dizzying circle.  Maeve's head compressed against Diem's shoulder, her stomach fell into her knees.  Diem's thighs constricted around Maeve as his knees dug ruthlessly into the dragon's neck.  Forge spread her wings wide as she shot another furnace blast into the sky. 

"No, no, no!" Diem's voice rumbled through his chest and into Maeve's back.  He yanked back on the guide rein, until his fist full of rope pressed against Maeve's chest, and he exhaled a sharp series of whistles.  It halted the dragon mid-rear and she slowly leveled back out in a bumpy glide. 

"I can't believe it," he said.

Maeve struggled to catch her breath.  She sagged against Diem as he relaxed the guide rein.

"What..." Maeve panted, "what just happened?"

"You," Diem said, his voice as deep as a meditation.  "You just affected my dragon."

"Doing what?" she asked sheepishly.  It couldn't be what she thought.  No way did just a lack of undies bring all that on.  Sure, the sexual urge she'd had a moment ago rippled through her like an earthquake in a pond, but there was no way
— 

"Your
—reaction—just put my sheathen, into immediate swol," he sounded a little shocked himself.

"English," Maeve said.  "What's a sheathen and what's a swol?"

"A sheathen is a female dragon and swol means she is ready for mating.  She was displaying her wings and circling to attract a mate.  We're lucky to be far enough off that none of the Rha's dragons came to service her.  We could've been crushed in the act."

Maeve began to laugh. 

"What?" Diem asked.

"Crushed," she laughed.  It was a little hysterical, but laughing out loud released some of the freakishness of the whole situation.  "Crushed by horny dragons.  What a way to go."

Diem chuckled too.  He pulled Maeve close to his body, but she scooted forward this time, leaving a small space between them.

"Oh no," she said.  "That's not happening again.  I didn't start that either, just so you know.  It just happened."

Diem's tone turned curious.  "You weren't thinking of mating?"

"Oh, I was thinking of it," Maeve said, "but I don't know why.  It was like I got hit by an explosion."

"I was thinking of it," he said.  "And then you began moving.  Ahhh, I think I understand it now."

"Well explain it to me," Maeve said.  "'Cause I'm lost."

"My dragon reacts to me," he said.  "It is the nature of a dragon to absorb the emotion of the one who owns it.  The dragon becomes a reflection of what its master is, down to a base level."

Maeve considered the plates, the strength, the pure power of Forge.

"She must have felt my interest and then reacted to yours," Diem suggested.  Maeve, despite herself, blushed a deep pink.

"How would I know what you were thinking?  You weren't even turned on, until I moved."

"You're sure?" His breath streamed over her cheek as he nudged her deeper back into the crook of his legs.

"I think I brought it on," she said, the heat of her cheeks closing up her throat too. 

"Impossible.  Forge isn't your dragon," he said.  "But you were interested in mating..."

His lazy voice drifted off and Maeve shut her mouth.  She couldn't make herself deny the obvious, but she couldn't admit to it either.  Wanting to have sex with him again made her seem pretty whorish, but, then again, Maeve was
n’t in the business of giving a shit what men thought of how she conducted her sex life.  But admitting how much she wanted him might mean that Diem won some silent sexual battle.  She thought on it a moment, but that didn't feel like her problem either. Maybe it was, just this once, that she didn't want a man to think of her like that.  As a receptacle, or an anonymous diversion, or as a woman that he wouldn't want over and over and over again. 

Her alarms blared inside her again.  This man was getting too close.  He was becoming something more dangerous to her than drinking poison.  He was becoming a man that she didn't want to lose. 

"You aren't going to tell me?" Diem asked, the silky smoothness of his voice rubbing against her like his warm skin. 

"Tell you what?"  She held herself rigid.  

"Never mind.  I'll be sure to have you tell me later," he said.  He pulled up on the guide rein as he adjusted the pressure of his knees.  "Those are the private dragon grounds below us, and the Rhas are waiting to talk."

Maeve sighed, but she still didn't let her back relax fully against him.

***

Diem landed Forge in the middle of the ring of hissing dragons.  Forge's adopted hoarde were nowhere to be seen.  Diem assumed the young dragons were huddled at the back of Forge's lair and he just hoped they stayed there.  Last thing he needed was all the Rhas spotting his surplus.  It would be difficult enough to have all the Rhas together without a fight breaking out.  Diem whistled Forge to her cave, just to be on the safe side, and Forge lumbered off, ignoring the hisses of all the other Rhas' dragons. 

The Ice House's Cork dragon didn't settle so easily.  Rha Flesh, suitably named, hobbled toward his equally fat dragon.  The husky Rha shouted and yanked at the chain around the dragon's neck, trying to get the animal under control.  It was how the Rha had lost the chunk of his leg that gave him his limp, but he obviously didn't learn.  The Cork dragon reared, snapping its jaws.

"Bark!" the Rha growled, which seemed more like a command than a name.  The dragon endeavored to do just that, but the sound came out as only an asthmatic wheeze.  The Cork dragon, which Diem handed over to Ice House long ago, was no longer the fit, ground warrior that Diem had trained.  Bark had become his master's dragon, lazy and gelatinous, wheezing instead of attacking.

"Blessings," Diem said.  He whistled and Bark settled.  Rha Flesh wiped the typical sheen of sweat from his round face. 

"Blessings," Flesh returned.

"Blessings, Rha Diem," Rha Shown said with a dip of his chin.  "Blessings to you too...my dear."

Shown took Maeve's hand and kissed the top.  It was an archaic gesture of respect, but Diem didn't like any other man's lips on her.

"Aimed was delighted at the thought of seeing you," Diem said, providing both Maeve's acceptable name and the illusion of her history.  Shown winked.

"As am I," Shown said.  "My House is honored, but we will miss her greatly when she becomes your Link, Rha Diem."

Maeve opened her mouth, probably to argue, or deny, or cause some sort of rift, but Rha Span stepped forward, taking her fingertips from Shown.  His kiss swept over her knuckles as his eyes slid over her body.

"Such interesting attire," Span purred to her.  Diem's hands tightened into fists, but Maeve pulled her hand back all on her own.  Span rubbed his thumb and fingers together in the air she left behind.  "You are Rha Diem's Intended?"

"I am," she said and she stepped close to Diem.  The tiny sign of apprehension in her made Diem even more vicious.  He wrapped his arm around her waist and tried to pull her only slightly behind him, so that he was the one facing Span head on.  But she wasn't budging.  Diem wouldn't make a scene, but he made a definite, mental note.

"Well," Span said,
"it's lovely news.  And quite unexpected, considering my daughter..."

Luckily, Rha Impulse interrupted him.   

"Why are we here?  Have we come to admire a Rha's Intended?" Impulse railed.  The skin on the side of his face that appeared melted, deepened to an impatient red.  Looming behind him, Impulse's Echo dragon, Cirque, lifted its broad chin.  Impulse hushed and sunk down on his gorne stump.

As thin as its master, the only difference between Impulse and his dragon was in their extremities.  Rha Impulse's head, hands and feet were impossibly long and thin, while the dragon's head, wings and tail were bowl-shaped.  The Echo dragon could scoop up sound and fire it off in any direction, disorienting an attacker.  Or, its master, as Echo had done long ago, before searing the skin off the right side of Impulse's body.

But Maeve stood frozen, peering directly into Cirque's beady eyes.  Diem could not open his mouth to stop her quickly enough.  Cirque lunged at Maeve as Diem sprang forward, issuing a high pitched whistle that brought all the dragons' heads to the ground.  The only thing that saved Maeve was that Diem had trained them all, and although they no longer belonged to him, a distinct part of their past did.  They each acknowledged it by bowing before him, Cirque's massive head dropping at his feet.  Diem waited to be sure the dragons weren't about to rise again before continuing.

"Absolutely amazing," Rha Shown said.  His own dragon hunched demurely behind him, chin also resting on the ground beside him.  Shown's dragon, All, was the only beast that could be ridden by Shown's entire family, but still, the Rha was in awe of Diem's control.  "It fascinates me how you do that."