Four people. One rope. Desire plunged into dangerous obsession…
The Onic Empire, Book 5
Errion Ald’Areed senses that his business partner’s passion for designing pleasure upgrades for service robots has cooled, but nothing he’s tried—men, women, exotic adventures—has lifted Lorren D’Buren’s ennui. Until he sees the look in Lorren’s eyes when the intergalactic ambassador from Diola crosses their path at a charity ball.
Under the watchful eye of Gabriyel, her faithful bodyguard, Farjika is determined to live down her empress mother’s scandalous reputation for taking multiple lovers. Her instant attraction to Lorren, though, tempts her to cross her self-imposed bounds of propriety. And Gabriyel is shocked that his level-headed mistress has fallen so easily into a torrid affair.
At first Errion is pleased that Farjika has roused Lorren out of his funk. When he notices the depth of the mutual fascination, though, he realizes he must act quickly—or lose his sometime lover and best friend.
His plan to eliminate the threat is perfect in its beautiful complexity. Until one snag in his delicate web of seduction plunges them all into a potentially deadly tangle with no way out…
Product Warnings
Contains humor, masturbatory robots, mystical BDSM, stern punishments and more variations on m/m/m/f than the author can count. Sex toys are not included with purchase but are strongly recommended.
When Farjika turned, the most stunning golden eyes confronted her. Never having seen eyes of a metallic shade, she parted her lips to say yes but then blanched at his brown suit. Only slaves wore brown. Reminding herself again that color did not have the same meaning here on Avalith as it did on Diola, she almost said yes until another man stepped up beside the first.
“Do. They. Dance. On. Your. World?” He spoke in a deliberately slow and loud manner, as if she were nothing but a simpleminded child. Where the first man was dark of hair and eye, this one possessed bright blond hair and crystal green eyes. His deep green suit expertly complemented his coloring. On Diola, such a dark color would indicate a very high rank, but not one higher than hers.
A coldness filled his gaze, a slow-burning hatred that she did not understand, for she had never met the man. How could she slight him without contact? Tilting her head as if she did not understand him, she leaned close and whispered, “They dance on my world, but the men have far better manners.”
His face hardened as his companion’s transformed into a proud smirk.
“Shall we?” she asked, lifting her hand to the man in the dark brown suit.
He nodded, clasping her hand in his.
Farjika swore she felt a sizzle from his touch. All of her senses cut to acute awareness. He placed her free hand on his shoulder, then slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her snuggly against him. He handled her as if he owned her, a thought both frightening and tempting. Even in her heels, he was taller than she. To maintain eye contact, she had to tilt her head back. His body was firm against her, his chest a wall of muscle unyielding against her breasts. When she drew in a breath, she took in his essence: exotic and unique, his fragrance unnamable but thoroughly intriguing. Despite the tailored suit and all the trappings of civility, she knew below he was as wild and untamed as the highest slopes of the Onic Mountains. Sun-streaked hair partially obscured his gaze, and his new beard cast shadows against his features, darkening his expression, giving him a raw, primitive appeal.
“How long are you here?”
His voice rumbled in his chest, which in turn hardened her nipples. Instinctively she pressed closer, inadvertently bringing her lips nearer to his. She opened her mouth to answer but hesitated when she tried to remember how to convert her time units into his. In the end, she decided it didn’t matter. She would stay as long as she pleased.
Coyly, she asked, “How long would you like me to stay?”
With a slight growl, he tightened his arm, pulling her closer still. Their clasped hands were pressed between their bodies, keeping them from full body contact, but she didn’t need confirmation to know he was hard. She felt the heat of him penetrating through the thin fabric of her dress. Her panties, made of the finest astle, were wet and hot, slicking against her flesh each time they moved.
“Forever.”
For a moment, she could not recall what question of hers he answered. When she did, she smiled playfully. “I can hardly stay forever with a man I do not know.” Even though they were in a room full of people, she felt utterly alone with him.
“I am Lorren D’Buren.” He nodded in lieu of a bow.
“Your father is—”
“Yes, but you should now tell me your name.”
A sore spot there, between Lorren and his father. She wondered over it briefly, then dismissed her curiosity. She would not probe his parental issues if he left hers alone as well.
“I am Farjika, daughter of the Crimson House, heir to the throne of Diola.” She had said those words a hundred times; however, this was the first time she actually wanted them to impress. Why she cared what he thought of her she couldn’t fathom, but still, she wanted him to realize she was a woman of great import. Even though inside she often felt like a child playing at adult roles that she still didn’t fully understand.
Slowly, he smiled as if he’d known but longed to hear her speak the truth. “And I thought you were simply a goddess.”
A wave of pleasure washed over her. “The way you look at me, I feel as if I am.” A naked goddess. She barely noticed that the music had changed, along with their movements, but one thing she could not shake from her awareness was the man in the green suit. As they danced, he stared hard at them, his handsome face thunderous, his wide shoulders curved in, his whole body poised as if in readiness to pounce. “Who is that man who continues to glower at us?”
Lorren didn’t even bother to glance at him. “My friend, Errion. He’s jealous.”
“Of you or me?” She honestly did not know as his gaze raked over the two of them with equal ferocity.
“Both?” He shrugged nonchalantly but would say no more.
Again, curiosity consumed her. Picturing the two of them together tightened her nipples and slicked her panties even more. Deliberately, she forced the image of the two of them with her from her mind. She would not become her mother. However, there was nothing wrong with engaging in a brief encounter with this man. One good thing about her travels through the universe was that she could leave her troubles behind her at any moment. Should her assignation with him not be satisfactory, she could simply fly away without repercussions.
“Errion, Lorren… Your names are very similar.”
“Avalith is driven by trends. At the time of our births, names with double consonants were in vogue.”
She thought that also explained why all the women wore the exact same style of dress, hair, and even faces. Somewhere in her reading, she remembered a passage explaining that the women of Avalith would undergo facial reconstruction surgery to match the current fashion. Right now, big eyes, pert noses and thin lips must be in style. All the women in the room had those same features. Rather than feeling separate from them, she was pleased to be unique. Farjika couldn’t imagine altering her face or body to follow a trend.
“I have never heard a more unusual or beautiful name than yours.” Softly he whispered, “Far-sheek-uh.” His mouth was so close she could taste his breath, rich from some type of alcohol. She wanted to taste the source. His firm lips would feel strong against hers. She imagined his tongue would penetrate hard, taking possession of her mouth with masculine power.
“I thank you.” She nodded to him. “I am named after the first empress of Diola, Farjika the Dark.” She waited for him to ask the obvious question.
“Why ‘the Dark’?”
Taking the opportunity to lean closer, as if the answer were a secret, she softly said, “She was a fearsome warrior. It is said she beheaded her enemies with one swing of her mighty sword. Their blood coated her, turning her skin dark.”
His eyes sparkled. Unlike many men, he clearly found the image of a warrior empress intriguing. “What else do you know about your namesake?”
Farjika paused dramatically. Deliberately, she met his gaze, then lowered hers as if she were slightly ashamed to reveal the rest. She wasn’t, but it made excellent theater. “It is also said that she had over a hundred consorts.” Lifting her gaze back to his, she added, “And she kept them all personally satisfied.”
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