The Lotus Ascension (26 page)

“
What’s so funny?” Nathen
asked.

Soren wiped from his face the smile
he had not known he was making.
“Nothing.
It’s just
that she’s betrothed to King Tivanel.” For some reason, this thought annoyed
him as much as the idea of Nathen marrying Sillara. No man was good enough for
his illimitable sister, because no one understood her the way Soren did. “She’s
belonged to him since the day we were born.”

Nathen shrugged.
“I heard he wooed your mother before.”

“
Wooed, but he failed to win her.”

“
Still, it seems he was
more interested in her than in a baby that wasn’t even born yet.”

“
But now she’s a woman.”
Soren struggled to keep annoyance out of his voice. “Babies grow up.”

“
But they’ve never met.”

Soren could not win against a man
so blindly in love. “I’ve got to get my balloon ready.” He walked off.

As Soren attached the thin, supple
ropes of the silk balloon to the basket, the camp came alive around him. Soon
slaves scurried here and there, the splashing sounds of people bathing reached
Soren’s ears, and Ausir worked grim-faced on readying their balloons. Their
displeasure was clear. They did not want to be here, but they had not been
given a choice. Kamen brought them whether they wanted to come or not. Soren
found it strange that these Ausir did not want to help in finding their future
Queen, but he said nothing to them. When they looked at him with their cold,
hard eyes, he merely bowed and smiled back at them. They just stared and
returned to their work. Perhaps they were angry that Soren commandeered one of
their balloons, but Soren was determined to find Sillara first. He would not
let anyone take that glory from him.

“
I want to go with you.”
Merieke’s voice startled Soren, and he hit his head against the side of the
basket.

Soren popped up from inside the
basket, amazed afresh at how silent Merieke could be. She and Nathen were both
like their mother in many ways—sneaky and cunning. “What?”

“
I’m going with you. I
won’t let the boys have all the fun.” Merieke leaned over the edge of the basket
so that her tits pressed against the handle. Her thin, translucent linen gown
hugged every curve of her body, a body Soren was getting to know quite well.

“
There’s room for three.”
Soren stepped back against the far side to let Merieke see just how big the
basket was.

Merieke reached out and grabbed
Soren by the belt. She pulled him toward her, and she reached up under his
skirt. “Is there enough room in here to have some fun?” She stroked his
fast-hardening cock with skill that surpassed any pleasure slave’s.

Soren chuckled and bit her upper
lip as he kissed her playfully. “I’m sure we can make room.”

Merieke looked up at Soren with
twinkling eyes. She wanted to fuck.
Now.
But she was
prevented. Soren’s cock would find no purchase this morning.

A slave came over and bowed before
Merieke.

“
What do you want?” Her
annoyance was clear.

The slave bowed again. “Your father
wants to see you.”

Merieke turned back to Soren and
pouted.
“All right, young Itenu.”
She kissed the end
of his nose. “We’ll get back to this later.”

Soren smiled as she walked off,
swaying her hips one at a time. He liked her playfulness, but he was on a
mission, and nothing would distract him.

Just as Soren put the finishing
touches on his balloon, Darien’s body slave rushed up to him. Between pants, he
said, “My master requires your presence.”

“
Now?”

The slave nodded.
“At once, if you be at leisure.”

What did Darien want to see him
about? What could be so urgent? Soren dropped the ropes and secured the silk
balloon against the desert floor with large rocks. Then he followed the slave
into Darien’s tent.

Nathen, Merieke, Orien, and Darien
were all standing there. Nathen wore a mischievous smirk, Merieke smiled, and
Darien fumed. Soren almost did not step into the tent, so hostile was Darien’s
attitude. And a hostile Darien was not someone anyone wanted to be around.
Darien might be near sixty years of age, but Soren did not want to test his
strength against the dragon of the sea, the living legend of Arinport’s pride.
Darien could probably crush him with one arm.

Behind Soren stepped in Kamen and
Ajalira. Something serious had happened or was going to happen, but all Soren
could think about was Sillara. The sun was up, and he wanted to fly, but what
with everyone assembled, they were all going to have some long-winded
conference or something.

“
What’s up?” Soren’s
question shattered the pregnant silence.

“
Son,” Darien said with a
growl in his voice.

Nathen stepped up and presented
everyone in the tent with a wax tablet.

“
You dared take my
daughter as your concubine without asking my permission?” Darien asked through
gritted teeth. His clenched hands rested against his thighs.

“
What?” Soren looked from
Darien to Nathen. He even looked over his shoulder at his parents. “What?”

Darien took a threatening step
forward. “Don’t act the fool, whelp.”

Merieke took her father’s elbow and
pulled him back.
“Peace, father.
He is the noble scion
of the Itenu House, a good and brave man.” Her voice worked like an enchantment
over Darien’s rage, and he calmed. Merieke’s eyes twinkled again, and her
eyebrows shot up as she locked gazes with Soren.

Soren took the tablet and
scrutinized it. It was a contract of concubinage, and it bore Soren’s signature
in his own hand. Nathen was listed as witness.

“
Why have you not openly
taken my daughter?” Darien asked. “To sign a contract and not make it public?
Are you not Sunjaa?”

Soren considered himself more
Sunjaa than Ausir, for though he loved craft and mechanical devices like the
Ausir, his heart was Sunjaa. Confusion still clouded Soren’s thoughts, and he
needed a minute to think. The wax tablet bore his signature—in his own hand—but
he had never signed a contract of concubinage for Merieke. What was going on?
And then it hit him. Soren stared at Nathen, and Nathen only nodded back with a
slight smile on his face.
The game of senet.
Nathen
had asked Soren to keep score. Soren had written his and Nathen’s name into a
wax tablet, no doubt the same signature Nathen had later copied to make this
forgery. Soren glanced over at Merieke. She was the cat who had gotten into the
cream.

Merieke’s love for Soren was as
clear as the sun which rose over their heads outside. She wanted him, and so
she must have worked together with Nathen to ensnare Soren in their little
scheme. They forged the contract to force Soren to take her. How could he
refuse? If he denied the validity of the document, Darien would doubtless find
out that Soren had fucked Merieke. She had escaped that night and returned to
the orgy. Darien would accuse Soren of having made defeat of her
virginity—which he had not, Nathen had had it—and the enraged father might kill
Soren for defiling his daughter. All Arinport knew how Darien protected
Merieke, the very image of her dead mother. The existence of the contract was the
only thing keeping Soren unkilled.

Nathen and Merieke had played this
beautifully, and Soren had to accept it. He did not mind so much. After all,
Merieke was the best lover he had ever had. She was funny, interesting, and
sexy. He just wished she had asked him first. Did she fear his rejection so
much that she had to resort to such tactics? Perhaps her love was that strong,
like the way Nathen obsessed over Sillara. There was nothing to be done except
claim the contract as his own.

“
I didn’t make it public
yet, Admiral, sir,” Soren said, “because of my sister’s predicament. I thought
to unveil our joy after the rescue and therefore celebrate it properly.”

Darien’s fury cooled, and the
murder that had been burning in his eyes faded.
“Very well.”
He clenched his jaw several times. “You shall marry her, of course.”

Soren’s gut reaction was to cry out
that he would do nothing of the sort, but he held his tongue. “I’ll consider
it.”

“
Consider it?” Darien’s
roar filled the tent, and everyone fell back. The old Admiral was a giant among
men.

But Soren was undaunted.
“Yes, sir.
Right now I just want to get my sister back home
safely. Then I can think about marrying your daughter. I don’t want to rush
things. You can appreciate that, sir.”

Darien narrowed his eyes. “I guess.
Was this contract legally drafted?”

If Soren said yes, Darien would ask
for details of time and place. Soren could lie, but if he were later
discovered, Darien would be enraged. Soren could not say anything about the
orgies, because Darien would murder him, son of a friend or no.
Itenu or no.
So Soren decided on the safe bet.

“
No, sir.
Nathen signed it, but there were no witnesses.”

“
Then get to it, boy.”
Darien held his long arms out in a gesture to move everyone out of the tent.

Soren could not understand his own
feelings. Why did he not want to marry Merieke? Why make the excuses? She was
the only daughter of the Kesandrahn House. She was noble, beautiful, witty,
great in bed, and their parents were best friends. She was great for him, but
something held him back. Every instinct told him that he would be making a
mistake.

“
Witness penetration and
then leave,” Darien said to Nathen. “I want to talk to you before you go.”

Once everyone
save
Soren, Merieke, and Nathen were out of the tent, Merieke pressed herself
against Soren and laid her hands on his chest. “Don’t mind my father. He’s a
pain in the ass sometimes. After all, your mother is a concubine, and my mother
was, too.”

“
Yes,” Soren said,
looking down into Merieke’s eyes, “but why the elaborate trap?”

Merieke’s lips pouted, though her
eyes danced. “Don’t think of it as a trap. Think of it more like a catapult.”
She licked and nibbled his nipple. “I’ve propelled you forward into something
you would’ve done eventually anyway. We’ve fucked. I was already your concubine
in here.” She traced a circle around his heart.

To Soren, it had been sex—great
sex—but just sex. Merieke wanted more. Soren looked over his shoulder at
Nathen. “And you?” What was his excuse?

“
As I’ve helped you get
your beautiful desert flower, I hoped you’d help me get mine.”

Blood rushed through the channels
of Soren’s ears, and his anger tore through him like a wild beast seeking
escape. He ripped Merieke’s dress from her body, leaving her standing suddenly
naked in the middle of the tent. Merieke squealed in delight, mistaking Soren’s
wrath for unbridled desire. He would fuck Merieke; he would take her for his
concubine, but he would never help Nathen get Sillara. He would kill him first.

Soren roughly kissed Merieke’s
mouth, swallowing her moans. He reached down between her legs and felt her
spreading warm wetness. He lubricated his forefingers and thumbs on both hands,
then reached up and pinched her nipples. She cried out, and he growled. He
rolled her hard nipples around with his slick digits, priming her for a savage
fucking. This was one time he would not be attentive; he would not live up to
his reputation. Merieke wanted him this bad? Well, she was going to get him—and
more.

Soren bent down and thrust his arms
between Merieke’s legs, turning his elbows out to hook behind her knees. With
one swift movement, he lifted her off her feet and held her before him, her
legs over his arms,
her
arms around his neck.
Merieke’s brown eyes shone in anticipation. She licked her lips and whined.

Soren crushed her against his
muscular body and slammed her down on his cock. The rock-hard head of his penis
smashed against her cervix, and she howled her pleasure. Soren thrust up into
her as far as he could go, and with growls he bit her throat and shoulders.
Merieke’s legs
flailed,
and Soren felt her vagina grow
hot. Her cum flowed down his shaft and coated his balls. It was good she liked
it
rough,
because that was the only way she was going
to get it.

Merieke hugged Soren’s neck and
held on for the ride. Soren fucked her until his heart burned hot within him
and he thought it might burst. He walked over to a pallet and fell onto it
without taking himself out of Merieke. One fluid movement brought them down
face to face. Soren put his shoulders behind her thighs and forced her knees up
to her ears. He pounded into her bare, wet pussy with renewed vigor until she
came again and again. And he did not stop to give her time to recover. She wept
so much that the kohl which darkened her eyes ran like black streams into her
black hair.