Desire's Slave Read online

  “Perhaps you would be more comfortable if you removed your robe,” Kabal suggested, his voice silky.

  Calandra gave him a saccharine smile. “I’m fine for now. Thanks.”

  The woman who had accompanied her inside stood next to Kabal and drew her robe up her body and dropped it to the ground. Naked, she lay on the carpet on her back before the older trader.

  Calandra shot Drago a questioning glance, but the smirk that tilted the corners of his lips only raised her blood pressure.

  Kabal reached for a bunch of blue grapes and settled them on the woman’s abdomen. One by one, he pinched them off and offered them to her, her mouth opening obediently to receive the fruit.

  Calandra’s hunger made a gurgling sound in her belly.

  Drago slowly lifted a ball of meat from a tray and popped it in his mouth. He didn’t look her way even once, but Calandra knew he toyed with her. The look of rapture on his face was too exaggerated for her to believe.

  When another woman knelt beside him, he offered her a meatball and her mouth closed over his fingers to lick away the sauce.

  Kabal laughed quietly. His interested gaze had never left Calandra and Drago, she realized.

  The challenge had been laid down. Wanting to wipe away his grin, she reached for the hem of her kahfet and stripped it over her head.

  Drago stiffened, but fed her the next tasty morsel. When the same fingers entered her mouth, she bit him.

  This time Kabal’s laughter boomed. “Such a treasure!”

  “I hope you know what game we’re playing,” Drago murmered.

  It was the sauce that was her undoing, she said to herself, and licked his fingers, soothing away the little hurt she had inflicted.

  Drago’s gaze narrowed, but his body told her how she pleased him. His cock slowly tented the front of his breeches.

  A devil of mischief took its seat upon her shoulder. Calandra couldn’t resist the sexy challenge. She reclined on the carpetched on on her side and propped her head upon her hand. Then she opened her mouth and waited.

  Drago slid a piece of fruit between her lips, careful to release it before her teeth closed around it. It was sweet and juicy and she let its juice drip from the corner of her mouth.

  His finger caught the trickle and brought it to his mouth. With her act of submission, she’d caught him. His cock stirred and lengthened further. She could tell—it was level with her gaze.

  Calandra opened her mouth again. This time he dipped his finger into a pot of creamy joghurt, and he brought it to her mouth and painted her lips with the sweat cream.

  Her tongue swirled around her mouth, licking the white cream, and Drago growled deep in his throat. A warning, perhaps? She’d never been one to heed caution.

  She dipped her fingers into the pot and slowly brought her hand to her breast. She glanced at him from beneath the fan of her eyelashes and painted her areoles. His stare never left her as she circled her tits. The column of his throat moved as he gulped.

  You’re mine! She rolled onto her back. Her smile dared him to take what was offered.

  “Witch!” his voice rasped. Drago shifted and sank on his knees before her, his mouth closing over the nearest nipple. His tongue circled to take her offering and then his lips tugged the tips until they crested. When he’d swept the last trace of cream from her breast, he shifted and took the next nipple.

  Calandra opened her eyes and saw Kabal’s avid gaze upon her glistening breast. She covered it with her hand, but Drago’s mouth was doing wicked things to the other nipple, and she rubbed herself, unable to resist the seduction of Drago’s mouth and the naughty lure of her audience. Her knees rose and parted.

  Kabal stood up to circle the trays of food and knelt beside her hips. He lifted the pot and poured a dollop of the sweetened joghurt over her open cunt. “Drago, you must feast.” He invited his guest to taste her with a wave of his hand.

  Drago’s expression was hard, his cheeks reddened with anger and desire. She read retribution in his gaze, but she so aroused by the thought of his “feasting” before their watchers that she didn’t care. Her fingers combed his short-cropped hair and tugged his head lower to her pussy.

  He groaned rubbed his face in her cream.

  Calandra mewled like a kitten and pumped her hips. “Please, lick my cream.”

  Drago lapped at her, his tongue gliding over her slit to lick her cunt clean.

  “Your advertisement didn’t do your offering justice,” Kabal murmured.

  Drago’s head lifted and he scowled at Kabal. “She is my offering.”

  Kabal inclined his head, acknowledging his claim. “Will you leave her needing?”

  Drago’s gaze narrowed and his nostrils flared. His hands went for the placket at the front of his breeches and opened it. His cock sprang out and the women murmured in appreciation. Calandra was just as appreciative of his firm, reddened penis and opened her thighs wide in invitation.

  Drago knelt between her legs and slid his hands beneath her hips to lift her from the floor. He centered his cock on her cunt and drove into her, straight to her core.

  Calandra gasped as he filled her. This might be the last time she enjoyed his taking. For once, she wished their audience would leave them. She would have liked this last time to be strictly theirs. And she wished she could slow the pace of her growing arousal to savor it and commit the details to her memory.

  But her body clamored for release. She straightened her legs, pointing her toes, and let them fall as wide apart as she could bear, giving him full access to the cradle of her thighs. She needed him to come inside her as deep as he could reach.

  Drago’s strong hands clutched her buttocks and thrust in and out, traces of the joghurt and her body’s own creamy invitation glazing his cock. Faster and faster, he pounded against her pussy. She sobbed and moaned and writhed on the carpet.

  She ignored the murmurs around her, ignored Kabal’s excited gaze, and her own recriminations to her heart. This was their last time. Tonight, she’d belong to another man.

  Drago paused the movement of his hips, and she moaned in protest.

  “Baby, hold onto me,” Drago said, lowering himself over her.

  She wound her legs tightly around his back and her hands gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin.

  “Yes! Just like that,” he whispered. Then he flexed his hips in and out, his thrusts more shallow and grinding.

  Her body quivered and she circled her hips on his cock, increasing the hot friction between their groins.

  His breath hissed inward. “I’m gonna explode,” he said, from between clenched jaws.

  Her hands reached for his face and she lifted her head and kissed him, telling him wordlessly that she needed his explosion and she was as ready as he was.

  His hips drove hers hard against the carpet, no longer rhythmic—jerking, pounding faster, until her back arched off the floor and she cried out.

  Her orgasm ripped through her, curling her toes, her inner muscles gripping his shaft in a long rippling caress. Drago uttered an oath and thrust once more before his release bathed her womb with his sweet cream.

  When her last shudders quieted, Drago smoothed the hair from her face and kissed her tenderly. Her eyes teared. He was saying goodbye.

  Kabal stood up. “I will send a message to Mogi. This one is a flame. She will earn you and my nephew a fortune.

  *

  Drago sought the sun in its arc toward the east. They’d reach Raban before it set below the horizon. Despite Kabal’s insistence, Drago had pushed to continue their journey during the heat of the day. He didn’t trust that Kabal. He might still try to take Calandra.

  After putting several leagues between them, he’d stopped briefly at a watering hole to rest the animals and give Calandra relief from the heat. She’d been quiet since their sex-sharing.

  Drago told himself he preferred it this way. He needed the distance. He had no control over his body when she was near enough to
reach out and touch. Her soft breasts and sensual allure made him forget his purpose.

  When he was inside her, he forgot himself.

  In Kabal’s tent, all it had taken for her to bring him to his knees was for her to part her own. He’d slid into her warmth and felt cherished and a part of her. That had never happened before. It scared the shit out of him.

  Even now with her fully clothed and riding at a distance from him, he felt connected.

  The cowl of her robe rested on her shoulders and the sun glinted on her burnished blond hair. He longed to run his fingers through her hair and put that look on her face—the one that told him she felt the connection, too. In the throes of passion, she reached for him, clinging like she’d never let go. And he wanted that. He wanted her. Forever.

  Glancing at Calandra, he pulled back on his reins. They had to turn around. Now. “Calandra,” he called out to her.

  But she didn’t turn at his voice. Her shoulders were rigid, her muscles taut. Her stare remained fixed straight ahead.

  “Calandra!” He spurred his mount to catch her. As he drew alongside, he followed her gaze toward the crest of a dune. Figures on horseback galloped down the side, leaving deep gashes in their path.

  Horses! Only the Hazar himself could afford the creatures. Mogi had sent an escort. Probably at Kabal’s suggestion.

  Drago cursed. It was too late for him to change his mind now. Calandra was lost to him.

  The guard, dressed in the famed golden livery of the palace, came to halt in front of Calandra. Reluctantly, Drago spurred his llamyx to approach them. He became aware of the men’s avid scrutiny of Calandra who rode to his side. The hood of her kahfet rested at the back of her neck, her red-gold hair falling about her shoulders in soft waves. He knew what they saw—luminous hair, eyes the color of a stormy sky, and a softly curved body a man would sell his soul to possess.

  Drago shook with the intensity of his rage. He longed to put his mount between the men and his woman. But he didn’t resist when Calandra’s reins were lifted from her hands and she was led away.

  *

  Calandra didn’t turn to see if Drago followed. She knew without being told that their relationship, whatever it had been, was now over.

  The men on horseback had come for her. When the man nearest had respectfully asked for her reins, she’d felt the subtle shift of ownership. She was no longer Drago’s woman.

  With the passing of her reins, so went Calandra’s last hope of reprieve. She would live in a ha’arem for the rest of her life. Despite the heat radiating from the surface of the sand, Calandra felt a cold shiver of despair touch her spine.

  Men rode on either side of her. Since her llamyx was a larger creature than any horse, she had a slight advantage of height. It was a small thing, but she felt better for it.

  When she’d first spied the riders on the horizon, fear had dried her mouth. Their uniform appearance and clothing had only emphasized the power of Hazar. They were all of a similar build—dark, leanly made, tall. Their hair was black, straight and tied back from their faces.

  Her escorts were clothed in gold robes that were belted with black cords. The ends were braided and danged down the sides of their muscular horses. Black, round-toed boots peeked from beneath the hems of their white trousers. The rich clothing, spotlessly maintained, screamed the Hazar’s wealth.

  She looked to her left. “Are we very far from the palace?”

  The man glanced back up at her, before quickly lowered his eyes. “We will reach the outer gate of Raban in a very few minutes, Mistress.”

  “Tell me. What will the auction will be like? Is it held near the palace?”

  “You will be housed with the rest of the offerings in the auction house that lies within the palace compound.” When he finished his quick explanation, he faced forward once more, a pointed message that conversation was not invited.

  Calandra sighed. Not two weeks ago, she’d have been delighted to be surrounded by so many dark and handsome men. Three years aboard a prison ship full of women should have honed a hard-edged hunger for all things male. Not that she had been celibate all those years. She’d frequently worked off her frustrations with many of her sisters in bondage.

  But nothing had filled the hollow part of her heart that yearned for a man to wrap her arms and legs around. And nothing ever matched the sexual excitement of a full-blooded cock driving her to orgasm.

  So why was she missing one cock in particular?

  Unable to resist, she glanced over her shoulder to find Drago. Their gazes collided. Fascinated, she saw a wash of heat flood his cheeks. His nostrils flared like an animal seeking the scent of his mate.

  While her llamyx rocked from side to side, Calandra became achingly aware that nothing but the kahfet lay between her and Drago’s gaze. She wet her lips and discovered her breath was shallow. She struggled to draw a deeper breath, but nearly strangled when Drago rubbed a hand across his chest. Too well, she knew his sinew and muscle, clothed in dark-furred satin, and how it tasted. She longed to tongue his flat brown nipples into tightly beaded peaks—

  “Mistress, we are entering the outer wall of Raban.”

  Calandra blinked and her thoughts dragged away from her fantasy. Her gaze rose to Drago’s face. Instead of the knowing smirk she expected, his mouth was thinned into a strained smile. His gaze held regret.

  Drago regretful? Calandra frowned at him. Aren’t you a little too late?

  She faced forward, but found she didn’t see a wall, just another endless expanse of sand.

  Ahead, one of the guards held up a small black box. He pointed it in front of him. The air rippled like the surface of a pond. A huge gate appeared, its translucent bars swinging open on unseen hinges. Her escort, now formed into a column, moved though it.

  Calandra passed the gate and discovered it to be the entrance to the city of Raban. She turned in her saddle, looking behind her, and saw the bars of the gate weren’t clear from this side, rather they were made of black iron and attached to a whitewashed wall. She glanced at Drago and saw he also appeared surprised. Obviously, a cloaking force shield protected the outer wall of the Raban. Cloaking devices were unheard of outside of the newest Dominion war ships.

  As the procession proceeded to the heart of the city, Calandra glanced around her in amazement. No hovercars moved along the roads. No laser-lit mega-marts advertised goods for sale. The buildings appeared to be made of a mortar mixture consisting mostly of sand, for where walls were bare of whitewash, they were the same red-gold color of the dunes outside the city.

  For as far as she could see, the city was empty of a single pre-fab building which were composed of the plasti-metal composite that most of the known universe purchased from Dominion stores.

  Even more surprising was the marked absence of any evidence of technology. Animals pulled wheeled carts, and mothers carried children in their arms. The streets were cobbled with sandstone.

  Suddenly, her llamyx came to a halt outside another large walled structure with a golden gate. It had to be the Hazar’s palace. The wall rose high above any of the city’s other dwellings; large, costly blocks of white sandstone piled precisely one on top of the other, without mortar. On close inspection, the gates appeared to be made of solid, molded gold. Guards wearing the same distinctive livery of her escort stood to either side of the gate.

  As the gate creaked open, her party spilled through the opening. A man appeared at her side with a step stool, but he didn’t offer to assist her. She supposed he wasn’t permitted to touch her and climbed down from her llamyx unaided.

  Once she stood on the cobblestoned ground, she noted she was in a large courtyard with several impressive structures made of the same white stone nestled against the outer wall of the compound. The center of the compound was dominated by what could only be the palace itself. The most astounding feature was the large wooden door at the top of a flight of steps. A door so wide, six llamyx could have entered side by side.

&nbs
p; It was a tall white stone structure with turquoise facings surrounding every window and a dome crowning the top that appeared painted in gold leaf. A large palace made of roughly hewn stone, dominated the center of the enclosure.

  The sound of the gate creaking closed alarmed her. She looked around, wanting to assure herself that Drago remained near by. Her throat went dry when she saw him on the opposite side of the golden gate.

  Chapter Seven

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  Drago stumbled into his room, and cursed as his foot slammed against the bed. When he didn’t find the phospher-pot where he thought he’d left it next to his bed, he cursed again. He toed off his boots in the dark, one at a time, and then wrestled with his shirt to get it past his head.

  Reminded of Calandra’s difficulties with her kahfet, he sat on the edge of the mattress and swallowed past the bitter lump that lodged in his throat. He sighed and skimmed the shirt the rest of the way off, then sat staring into the darkness.

  After paying off Gilbert and Kaspar for their share for her capture, he’d tried to drown his memories in enough ale to allow him to sleep just one night without regret. Since leaving Calandra at the palace gate, his mind had raced trying to find a way to get her back. The pocketful of gold he’d earned wasn’t nearly enough to buy him access to the exclusive sale, let alone enter a bid.

  He flopped back onto the mattress, then immediately regretted moving so swiftly. His stomach lurched, and the room spun. Still, he hadn’t drunk nearly enough to drown his guilt.

  Or to mask the aroma of warm goat and manure that emanated from the other side of the wall. Due to his excellent advertisement of Calandra, the auction had drawn buyers from all over Arturia. The only vacancy he’d found was a room attached to a stable. His stomach burbled and knew he was going to be sick.

  A scrape sounding from the floor next to his bed was all the warning he got before something heavy fell over him, immobilizing him. As Drago struggled against the weight that settled over his legs and arms, a male voice broke in, “Darling, I think you have his attention.”