The Empress' New Clothes Read online

  Kyra looked into the face of the giant that had befriended her, the same man who had kept her from harm’s way and cared for her, and knew she couldn’t do anything to jeopardize his life. Holding a palm up, she surrendered, tears coursing down her cheeks. “You win, damn you! Just like always! I’ll go with you!”

  “Are you certain, little fire-berry?” Death asked calmly, not willing to let Kyra go without a fight unless it was of her own choosing.

  “Do not,” Zor bit out through clenched teeth, “call my nee’ka by that name.”

  Death paid the High King no attention. All of his focus was centered on Kyra.

  “I’m certain,” Kyra told him quietly. “Please let me down. I would not repay your kindness this way.” She motioned to the warriors, emphasizing her meaning.

  “We will fight do you desire it,” Hod called out. “Do not go if ‘tis only for thoughts of us.”

  “Aye,” Glok seconded.

  “No.” Kyra shook her head. Glancing first at Zor and then at Kil, she realized who the winners would be in this skirmish regardless to the numbers in the opposition’s favor. Meeting first her husband’s gaze and then her brother-in-law’s, she said in a hiss, “they are both merciless.”

  Zor flinched inwardly, but made no motion to correct her. Where Kyra was concerned, he was merciless. He watched with grim satisfaction as she slid from Death’s shoulder and took to her feet.

  Kyra marched stoically across the bar, not stopping to speak to any of the warriors until she noticed Cam. Her jaw dropped open in surprise to see him there. Disbelieving, she sucked in her breath.

  “Your Majesty,” Cam began, clearly upset to have her thinking he betrayed her.

  Kyra held up a palm. “What did you get for this?”

  Cam’s gaze fell to the floor of the bar. “Your Majesty please,” he murmured.

  “What,” she bit out, “did you get?”

  “Five Kefas and two bound servants.”

  Kyra swiped at the tear that fell from her eye. “Well,” she said shakily, “congratulations.” Turning on her heel, she walked from the bar.

  * * * * *

  Kyra took to her rooms, barring Zor from their suites for three full moon-risings. Originally, her plan had been to lock herself in and, like a martyr from some tragic novel, let herself die a violent, morbid death when her bridal necklace strangled her from lack of replenishment of Zor’s life-force.

  When she woke up the next morning alive and well, Kyra realized that the two-hearted scumbag had lied about that as well. Furious, she kept to her rooms another two days, refusing to admit anybody, Tia included.

  On the third moon-rising of her self-imposed exile in the royal suites, Kyra grabbed a bottle of bootlegged moonshine and went out to sit on the balcony. Cam had smuggled the outlawed matpow into her rooms while she had slept, along with a note of apology begging her to forgive him.

  Donned in a transparent purple qi’ka, she fell onto a reclining cot out on the balcony and laid back to watch the glowing green moon shine down. She was a little surprised when, a few minutes later, Kil dropped down from the roof and landed on two feet before her.

  “What do you want?” she snapped, scowling at him angrily. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

  Kil lifted a pompous brow. “Doing what? Drinking matpow guaranteed to eat through your stomach lining?”

  “If I want to,” she responded petulantly, knowing she sounded like a child, but not caring.

  “You are acting like a spoiled little girl, not at all like an Empress.”

  Kyra arched a fire-berry brow. “Is Zor dead?”

  “No.”

  “Then fuck off. I don’t have to answer to you.”

  Kil’s mouth dropped open in shock. For many moments, he was too stunned to respond. Finally, he threw his head back and laughed.

  “That was supposed to be an insult, you idiot!” Kyra snapped, affronted. She sat up on the reclining cot with a harrumph, throwing a pillow behind her back for support.

  Kil grabbed the bottle of moonshine from the floor beside her and took a long swallow. Sighing lustily, he swiped his arm across his mouth and grinned. “I know.” Dropping onto the cot beside Kyra, he jested, “I think I gentled you too well do you speak to me with such disrespect.”

  She snorted at that.

  They were quiet for long moments until Kil at last broke the silence. “You are hurting him, Kyra.”

  She flinched, but refused to budge from her stance. “And what of me?” she asked. “Oh never mind, my feelings don’t matter. I forgot.” She grabbed the bottle of moonshine from Kil and drank a sip.

  “Of course they matter,” Kil argued, taking the bottle back at first opportunity. “But you won’t permit him anywhere near you to give his apologies.”

  “He wants to apologize?” she asked, hoping she didn’t sound overly curious.

  “Aye.” Kil took a drink from the bottle, then passed it back to her. “He has been haunting my rooms for three moon-risings, nigh unto driving me daft.” Rolling his eyes, he pressed on. “The man is punishing himself, refusing his pleasures even.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “He takes no Kefas to bath, refusing release of his life-force.”

  Kyra disliked how good that made her feel. She scowled when instead she wanted to smile. “And no bound servants?”

  “Nay!” Kil denied, clearly affronted, “the man is joined with you!” He shook his head. “I have ten brazen, lusty servants awaiting their transfer to their new masters—not to mention the ever ready Myn—begging every hour upon the hour for Zor to give them their woman’s joy.” He shook his head again. “My brother barely notices their presence, let alone responds to them.”

  “Really?” Kyra asked quietly, hopefully.

  “Aye, really.”

  They sat in silence for a moment or two until Kyra sighed, gesturing toward Kil. “Why did you come here?” she asked simply.

  “Because I love my brother,” Kil answered without hesitation, “and because my brother loves you.” He craned his neck down to her, surveying her expression. “You believe otherwise?” At Kyra’s shrug, he prodded her to reveal more. “Why do you think this?”

  Kyra inhaled deeply, throwing her head back and gazing up at the low hanging green moon. “Where I come from, a man in love would never let a brother do what you did to me. Never.”

  “And you think Zor didn’t hurt from it?”

  “Did he?”

  “Aye.” Kil slashed a hand through the air. “He did his duty, though it tore him to pieces, not knowing what it was I was up here doing to you. Aye, ‘tis against the laws of succession for a lesser husband to stick his rod into his elder brother’s nee’ka, but think you there are not some who would do it anyway, caught up in the frenzy of the gentling?”

  Kil’s lips curled into a snarl, twisting his scar menacingly. “Think you my brother was at training, passing a fair day?” he growled. “He took to the bottle, so overset he was.”

  Kyra bit her lip. “Then why allow it—insist upon it—in the first place?”

  “’Tis the holy law.”

  “He’s an Emperor, a High King. He can change the law.”

  Kil shook his head. “Nay. How can I make you understand?” Taking a deep breath and muttering something about primitive first dimension notions, he began again. “For all of Tryston’s pleasure-seeking, we are also a people steeped in tradition, many of them so ancient we don’t remember when or where they began. The laws of succession are amongst those ancient ways. What you, Kyra, have likened to a smack in the face, was the very same tradition that Zor used to prove his caring of you.”

  Kyra rolled her eyes, not believing it for a moment.

  Kil grabbed her by the chin, his nostrils flaring. “Do not,” he said quietly, “do that.” He made a gentle rubbing motion on her cheeks to soften the fierceness of his words, then released her. “I am being very serious,” he said as he settled back upon the cot.

&nb
sp; “How so?” she asked in a small voice, feeling somewhat contrite.

  “When a woman here is nee’ka to the eldest of a line, but no longer has a warrior to command her, be that man a husband or a son, she can be given unto another as a bound servant or worse to protect the line from infiltration of another king’s seed. You might not agree with the law, but it is still the law and not even the High King can change it.”

  Kil held her gaze, forcing Kyra to listen to him. “The laws of succession prevent that from happening.”

  “And the gentling?” she asked quietly.

  “’Tis a warrior proving he cares more for his Sacred Mate’s happiness than for his own. ’Tis a man showing his nee’ka that she would never have to fear for her future were anything to happen to him, for she would be looked after and well cared for.”

  Kyra bit her lip. She nibbled on it for a moment. “I see.”

  She sat quietly for a while, then, deciding to change the subject, asked Kil about what had transpired at Pika’s. “Was it necessary to kill that man?” she inquired, studying the floor.

  “Aye.”

  Her head snapped up. “Why?”

  “He was not like the others there. I recognized him immediately as an insurrectionist I encountered whilst on Tron.”

  Kyra nodded. She tipped the bottle of moonshine up to her lips and drank deeply of it. Sighing, she contemplated the matter for a drawn out moment. “Okay. I’ll go to him.”

  “Good.” Kil patted her on the knee, then stood up, holding out his hand to give her a lift up. “And one more thing.”

  “Yes?”

  Kil looked her up and down. “I said nothing this moon-rising because of your ignorance of our ways, but now that you have been informed, I expect you to honor your duties.”

  Kyra blushed, knowing he referred to the removal of her qi’ka while alone with him. She nodded slowly, relenting. “All right.” She shook her head. “But I don’t see the difference,” she muttered under her breath. “The damn things are see-through.”

  Kil smiled unapologetically. “I plan to insure that my brother lives a long and lusty life. You would deny me what little reward I can claim by the law?”

  Kyra shook her head and grinned. “Can I ask you a question? Just out of curiosity.”

  “Aye.”

  “What would happen if Zor died and you had already claimed a Sacred Mate? We would both be your wives?” she asked stiffly.

  Kil shook his head slowly, meeting her gaze. “I cannot even begin to search for a nee’ka, if indeed I have one out there, until you breed an heir. Were Zor to die, your bridal necklace would bond us for all time when we joined. Somehow the fates would know and, mystical though it might be, any potential nee’ka I might have otherwise claimed would find a true match with another.”

  “Wow,” Kyra breathed out, “how strange.”

  Kil shrugged negligently. “To you, mayhap, not to us.”

  She nodded, then took a deep breath. “I’m going to go find Zor.” She smiled up to him, hesitantly. “Thank-you, Kil.”

  He nodded, then turned on his heel and left the way he’d came.

  Chapter 20

  Kyra found Zor in the blue crystal chamber where she had bathed with Ari upon her arrival in Sand City. He was alone in the bathing pool, laying on his back on a soft jewel rock, without a Kefa in sight.

  Dropping her purple qi’ka to the floor, Kyra waded into the cool silvery waters and walked to where he lay. Zor’s head snapped to the side when he realized he wasn’t alone.

  “Kyra,” he whispered hoarsely, his normally glowing eyes dimmed in pain, “what do you here?”

  “Is it okay that I’m here?” she asked gently, moving closer.

  “For a certainty.”

  When Zor made a move to sit up, Kyra poked him in the chest and bade him to remain lying down. She scanned every inch of his hard, muscled body, watching with appreciation as he grew aroused at the mere sight of her. “Let me wash you.”

  “You would do that?” Zor asked in a choked voice.

  “You’re my husband,” she said simply, “and I love you.”

  “Kyra—oh pani, I—”

  “Shh. I know.” She used her hands to cup up the enchanted water, releasing it over his chest. “You don’t have to say anything.” She placed her palms on the massive expanse, then ran them soothingly over it. His flat nipples grew hard at her touch, causing him to suck in his breath.

  “Nee’ka,” he whispered, his erection growing thicker and longer. “I have missed you.”

  “I know. I missed you too.”

  Kyra spent the next twenty minutes cleaning every part of Zor’s body with her bare hands, touching and rubbing everything but his erection. By the time she finally touched him there, he nearly came up off of the rock. “You best not clean me there, wee one, or I’m liable to spurt.”

  “It’s my duty to make certain every part of you is thoroughly washed,” Kyra said wickedly. “Don’t fight me.”

  Zor sucked in his breath when she began to massage his man sac. “Oh pani,” he groaned. Closing his eyes, he gave up the fight and enjoyed every moment of his wife’s attention. “’Tis tight for need of you,” he whispered thickly.

  “It needs me?” Kyra asked coyly as she bent her head to lick his balls. At Zor’s bellow, she figured it did. Sucking his scrotum into her mouth, she stroked her hands up and down her husband’s cock while she suckled from his man sac.

  “By the goddess,” Zor sighed, his head falling back on the rock. Breathing deeply, he sat up, hoisted Kyra into his arms and waded toward the middle of the pool. “I can take no more tortures, woman.”

  Splaying her body wide on a flat, soft jewel rock that put her channel at the perfect angle to accept his shaft, Zor lifted her hips and thrust into her. “Nee’ka.” He pounded into her, hard and violently, needing to be one with her. “Do you see what you do to me, lusty wench? Do you see how my body demands yours?”

  “Zor.” Kyra met his thrusts eagerly, her vaginal muscles milking his cock. “Harder,” she begged. “I need all of you.”

  Zor pummeled her cunt fast and hard, long and deep. When Kyra arched her back and climaxed, he grabbed her proffered breasts, kneading them and tugging at her jutting nipples. “Give me more, nee’ka. I command from you more.” Grinding his hips into her, he took her ferociously, making up for his abstinence.

  When again Kyra peaked, Zor went from ferocious to animalistic. Releasing his hold on one of her nipples, he continued to pound away at her slick, flooded channel while he expertly massaged her drenched clit with his thumb. “Is this what you want?” he asked arrogantly.

  “Oh god—oh yes.” Kyra climaxed violently, her hips thrashing out for more. “Please, Zor. I’ll do anything—just do it.”

  “What would you have me do?” Zor growled through clenched teeth, hammering into her. “Spurt my life-force? Are you lusty for my seed?”

  “Yes—oh god—yes.”

  When Kyra peaked again, her husband rewarded her with the reward she’d asked for. Spurting deep into her channel, the stones in her necklace pulsed. Zor closed his eyes, the muscles in his neck corded tightly.

  “Mine,” he roared, his bellow carrying throughout the bathing chamber. “All mine.”

  He continued to thrust deeply as Kyra screamed and the ceaseless waves brought peak after peak of mind-numbing climax.

  * * * * *

  No one in the palace heard from nor saw heads or tails of the High King and High Queen for three more moon-risings. Finally, feeling somewhat worried, Kil let himself into their apartments to make certain all was well.

  His lips kicked up into a semi-grin when he reached the raised bed and knew for a certainty his brother was in good spirits. ‘Twas obvious the poor warrior was sorely besotted with his nee’ka.

  Kyra was asleep, her arms thrown up over her head, her breasts thrust upward, pink nipples jutting up deliciously. One of her legs was bent at the knee, giving an explicit view
of her swollen labia and clit. Zor was snoring the sleep of the dead, stretched out half on top of her, his head resting on her breasts, his mouth latched onto one of her distended nipples. One of Zor’s hands rested near his nee’ka’s pelt of fire-berry hair, his fingers occasionally grazing the wisp of curls.

  Kil shook his head and grinned. His brother had the worn out, utterly contented look of a green warrior just given his first plaything to see to his pleasures. He remembered so many years past when first his father had given him three Kefas to see to his baths. Kil had no doubt been the cleanest lad in all of Tryston. And when the Kefas were later given to him in truth, permitted to accompany him back to his rooms, none had seen Kil for a sennight or longer.

  “Wake up sleepy heads,” Kil said, kicking his foot against the red crystal bed’s foundation. “You have company.”

  Zor grumbled something imperceptible as he half opened his eyes, then upon seeing his brother, closed them again. “Go away. I am nigh unto dead.”

  “Such bad manners,” Kil commented with mock hurt. “And when I have traveled all the way from the great hall just to see your handsome face.”

  Zor sat up and rubbed his eyes. His hair was disheveled and he looked to have the markings of love bites spotting his chest. Kil wanted to laugh, but figured his brother wouldn’t appreciate it. “Your nee’ka sleeps well too, I see.”

  At the mention of Kyra, Zor’s eyes lit up to their usual glowing blue. Lying back on his elbow, he craned his neck to gaze down at her slumbering form. He smiled, so sweet and innocent his wee one looked in slumber. Not at all the she-beast in heat she had been at last moon-rising. “Aye.”

  He bent his head and licked his tongue up the length of her pussy, starting at her channel’s opening and ending at her swollen clit. “She has been loved well these past moon-risings.” Squinting, he looked up to Kil. “How many moon-risings has it been anyway?”

  Kil snorted. “Three.”

  “For a certainty?”

  “Aye.”