The Empress' New Clothes Read online

  Jameson scowled. Well, more than usual.

  Kyra reached over and patted Prue on the hand. “It will be okay.” She flicked her gaze toward Geris and grinned. “Perhaps we should introduce Prue here to the Mel-zel technique.”

  Geris smiled back. “Not a bad idea.” She raised her brows and regarded Jameson. “I’d teach it to Jamie here, but I doubt it would work the same wonders.”

  The English lord inclined his head. “And what technique is that, Miss Jackson?”

  Geris’s almond eyes lit up. “Honey, let me tell you something…”

  Chapter 3

  By the last day of the retreat, even Prue and Jameson had found their peace. Albeit, not to the great degree that Kyra had, but nevertheless, they’d found some. Prue still cried on occasion and Jameson still scowled, but the Mel-zel technique had managed to work wonders on both of them.

  Not that Jameson was happy about that fact. He’d scowled more than ever since he’d tried Geris’s breathing technique and found that it actually worked. Apparently the aristocrat had decided immediately thereafter that he was going straight from this spa to one of those testosterone-laden masculine retreats in the woods where men beat on drums and get in touch with their inner animals.

  Hey, to each his own.

  Kyra and Geris, both clad in tee-shirts and jeans, shook hands with their fellow retreaters and wished them well. “Thank you so much for everything you’ve done, Mrs. Blissful. I feel like a new woman.” Kyra smiled warmly at the serene instructor. She released her hand and picked up her duffel bag. Her and Geris’s suitcases had already been loaded into the trunk of Geris’s BMW by the retreat’s staff.

  “I’m glad to have been of service to you, Miz Summers. Please feel free to return to our little getaway any time you’re in need of our assistance.”

  Kyra inclined her head. “I will.”

  Five minutes later, the two friends ambled slowly toward the car, both of them feeling rejuvenated, both of them actually sorry to see their week of meditation come to an end. Geris spotted her Beamer toward the left of the outdoor parking facility and indicated with a wave of her hand that they needed to switch directions. Kyra repositioned her heavy duffel bag, hoisting it over her left shoulder to give her right one a rest. She nodded and followed.

  Geris nudged Kyra playfully in the ribs as they walked. “Girl, that wasn’t so bad. I really had a good time toward the end of the week.”

  Kyra snorted. “Too bad it took us over half of our vacation to ease into it.” She grinned, displaying neat white teeth. “But I agree. I had a good time too. And I’ve realized something important.”

  “Oh?”

  She nodded. “I’ve finally realized that stressing myself out over Kara’s disappearance will not bring her back. I will continue looking for her, but wasting away in sorrow isn’t going to do either of us a lick of good.” Kyra took a deep breath and shrugged. “Kara would expect me to stay strong. I am the big sister after all.”

  Geris smiled. “She looked up to you, honey. Always did.”

  “I know.”

  Geris hesitated for a brief moment before finishing her thought. “Kyra, I never said this before because I didn’t want to give you false hope, but I think you’ve healed enough to deal with it now.”

  Kyra arched a wine-colored brow but said nothing.

  Geris sighed. She pulled Kyra to a stop and swung her around to face her. “We’re going to see Kara again. I just know we are! I can feel it.” She shrugged her elegant shoulders and grinned self-depreciatingly. “How and when I have no idea, but I’m certain we will,” she mumbled.

  Kyra chuckled, then beamed a smile back at her. “Me too.”

  That settled, the women resumed their stroll towards the BMW. Geris found her keys in her purse and detonated the locks on the car’s doors by remote. She opened the trunk and threw her duffel bag in to join their suitcases, then motioned for Kyra to do the same.

  “You know what sounds good, Ger?”

  “What?”

  Kyra waited for Geris to slam the trunk closed and look at her before responding. “Pizza!”

  Geris’s eyes lit up. A week of rabbit food made pizza sound like manna from heaven. “Ooooohhh! Good idea!”

  “I saw an Italian bistro down the road when we first drove up here. Let’s stop there on our way back to Manhattan.”

  Geris grinned. “Girlfriend, you’ve gotta—” Her eyes rounded. She stopped, her smile faltering as she glanced over Kyra’s shoulder. “Deal,” she whispered.

  Kyra wrinkled her nose at Geris’s wide-eyed expression. She spun around to see what her best friend was gaping at. And then she swallowed—roughly. Her own silver eyes widening, she did a little gaping herself.

  Good grief.

  Two men were watching their every move. Two huge, gigantic, barbaric looking men. One was blonde, one was raven-haired, and both of them possessed eerie blue eyes that seemed to glow. The barbarians stood well over seven feet in height and were as thickly muscled as they were tall.

  The men were bare-chested, sporting nothing in that region except for a single gold medallion with beautiful, sparkling stones imbedded into them. The gold and stones contrasted brilliantly against their richly tanned skins. Black leather pants and black boots completed their ensembles.

  Kyra’s jaw dropped when she realized that the bigger, dark-haired man was eyeing her up and down like a woman for hire. He was smiling at her as though he boasted some esoteric knowledge she hadn’t been made privy to. She tried to look away, but found to her dismay that she couldn’t. She continued to stare at the giant as she whispered under her breath to Geris. “We better go. I don’t like the look of those guys.”

  Geris gulped. “Sweet Jesus, the blonde one is oglin’ me like a piece of candy.” Worry was evident in her tone, but she didn’t break his gaze.

  The women stood there, still as statues, waiting to see how this scene would play out. They were to find out all too soon.

  Kyra gasped in shock as she felt her clothes coming undone. She shrieked as her shirt and jeans were ripped from her body by forces unseen and went hurling through the air, leaving her totally naked in the barbarian men’s presence.

  Kyra’s scream snapped the spell the blonde man had held over Geris. Geris whipped her head around to regard her best friend. She gasped. “Girl, what in the hell are you doing! You’re butt naked!”

  A shiver ran the length of Kyra’s spine, hardening her nipples into tight points. “He did it,” she breathed out, unable to break the dark-haired man’s eerie gaze. “He did this to me.”

  “He’s nowhere near you!” Geris pointed out hysterically.

  Kyra nodded like a marionette. A bead of sweat formed on her brow as she concentrated on breaking the hypnotic hold the giant had on her. She didn’t know how it was possible, but she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the hulk standing but a few feet away had done this to her.

  Another chill shot down her spine as she took in the expression of triumph he now garnered. Her eyes widened and both women gasped as the man let out an ear-piercing war cry, pounded on his chest, and sprinted toward them at top speed.

  * * * * *

  Zor and Dak came to a halt as they spotted the two gorgeous wenches heading toward some type of boxy, metal contraption. Both women were exceptionally lovely, with their long tresses and rare skin colors. Where the free women spread throughout Trek Mi Q’an galaxy, and especially planet Tryston, tended toward skin tones similar to their own, these wenches were fashioned of translucent shades of sekta pearl and deep onyx.

  Dak’s eyes feasted upon the black-skinned wench. His staff was nigh unto bursting at the mere thought of burying all of his ample inches inside of her. He groaned with disappointment, remembering that he was here to help his brother find his Sacred Mate, not to cater to his own desires. He held the wench’s stare captive without even realizing he had done so.

  Zor immediately honed in on the fiery-headed wench. All of his
senses, both physical and metaphysical, locked in on her. She was the one. She had to be. There could be no other. Never had his senses stirred so. Never had his very blood seemed to boil at the merest glimpse of a woman. His shaft was erect to the point of broaching pain.

  The sekta pearl wench was alerted to his presence by her friend. When she turned around to see what the onyx woman was gaping at, Zor captured her gaze and held it. He smiled with a predator’s satisfaction as the first test of a Trystonni warrior’s Sacred Mate was confirmed. No matter how hard she tried, and the sekta pearl wench was indeed trying with all of her furious might, she could not look away from him. She was imprisoned. She had to be his.

  So this ‘twas what it felt like when a warrior found his Sacred Mate. Zor had heard other warriors describe the sensation, but had never been able to relate to it. By the goddess, there was nothing more pleasurable or more painful in all of existence.

  But then, it would have to be. How else could lusty Trystonni men forsake the beds of all other wenches when there were Kefa slaves and bound servants in abundance, clamoring for a warrior’s attention? Kefas were engineered to be pleasure givers, yet all three hundred of his slaves held no appeal at all after seeing the woman who was to be his nee’ka.

  Zor continued to hold hostage the gaze of his High Queen. He moved on to the next phase of the testing, praying to the Sacred Sands that this wench was to be his by the unbreakable, holy law. He channeled all of his energies, summoned all of his many powers, and focused them upon the task of removing her clothing.

  ‘Twas only upon himself or the warm body of a Sacred Mate that a Trystonni warrior could manipulate inanimate objects. On all other creatures, the living body prevented the telekinetic summoning of the inanimate. Why ‘twas so, none could say. ‘Twas as much a mystery as why the holy sands could heal.

  Oh aye, he could have confirmed she was his by removing naught but a piece of jewelry or another lifeless object upon the wench’s body, yet did her clothing offend him sorely. ‘Twas not the garments a warrior favored upon his woman.

  As the wench’s clothing was ripped from her well-curved body, Zor experienced an erotic elation that was indescribable in its intensity. He all but spilled his life-force, so pleasurable was the feeling.

  She was his.

  By the goddess, she was his!

  In keeping with the ancient tradition of claiming a Sacred Mate, Zor let loose a triumphant roar, pounded upon his chest, and charged forward to lay claim to his bride.

  ‘Twas time to take his High Queen home.

  * * * * *

  Kyra all but peed her pants at the sight of the gargantuan man barreling down upon her. And she would have peed them, if she’d had on any pants to pee in, she thought grimly. His gigantic muscles were flexing as he charged toward her like a raging bull in Pamplona.

  Good god the crazy barbarian was going to kill her! Right here in the parking lot of The Smiling Faces and Peaceful Hearts Meditation Retreat. She idly considered the fact that this was not a very serene way to die.

  Somewhere in the back of her mind, Kyra realized that Geris was screaming. She also understood that her legs were being held as entranced as her gaze was by the dark-haired brute. Kyra couldn’t move if her very life depended upon it.

  A bead of moisture trickled down her forehead when she vaguely considered the possibility that her life probably did depend upon it. Believing that a fact, she tried again to free herself from the invisible chains the giant had lassoed her with.

  It was no use.

  She was a dead woman.

  * * * * *

  Zor came to a sudden halt in front of his Sacred Mate. His ears nigh unto bursting from the shrill screams of the onyx wench next to his High Queen, he took a moment—careful not to break his Sacred Mate from the trance in the doing—to glare at her friend. The noise immediately stopped. The wench fainted.

  Casting all of his energies back upon his woman, Zor held up the bridal necklace he had brought with him from Tryston and clasped it about her neck. ‘Twas done. Their bond could never be broken.

  Smiling down to his wee wench, who looked as perplexed as she was mesmerized, Zor lifted her up into his heavily muscled arms. She would sleep for hours once he released her from the trance. Or so other warriors had claimed. Taking no chances, he held his Sacred Mate tightly against him, kneading her pearly buttocks as he looked into her eyes and let the spell break.

  She gasped. Her wide, silvery-blue eyes fluttered and she fell into a deep sleep.

  Chapter 4

  Dak revved the gastrolight cruiser down from hyper mode to a normal gait. ‘Twas tricky steering indeed, the first wormhole he encountered that led from the primitive first dimension into the next one. Once he was satisfied that the majority of obstacles were behind them, he glanced over to Kita, who was seated next to him in the navigator’s chair, and grinned. “Aye, my friend, the onyx wench was beautiful indeed. My cock nigh unto exploded just gazing upon her.”

  The pugmuff made a few snorts that released a noxious odor into the air. Dak frowned as he considered the two-arsed, yellow and red spotted creature. “Calm down, my friend. You are burning my eyes yet again.”

  Kita ceased his snorting. He spoke to Dak in a series of clicking sounds that the King of Ti Q’won understood. Dak smiled. “Believe me Kita, I have asked myself the same question over and over again in the last few hours since we departed first dimension earth.” He shook his head and sighed. “I should have performed the test to see if ‘twas possible so fine a wench was mine.”

  Kita’s clicking picked up in speed. “I don’t know if I shall return to test her,” Dak slowly admitted, “I must give it some thought.”

  Kita snorted incredulously. He clicked something sarcastic that made Dak scowl. “I know I am not well known for my thinking on such things, yet must I consider the matter before such a journey is taken yet again.” He shrugged. “Besides, ‘tis my duty as her new brother to help our High Queen settle in.”

  Kita clicked rapidly, warming to the change in topic. Dak grinned. “Aye, the High Queen is as comely as my brother boasted. Even more so, mayhap.”

  The pugmuff gestured animatedly with his hands as he continued to click away. “Aye,” Dak answered, “Zor is with her now.” His eyebrows rose. “Waiting for her to wake up I would imagine.”

  * * * * *

  Zor lay on his side upon the raised bed, his elbow propping his head up whilst he studied the form of his sleeping Sacred Mate. She was nigh unto perfection, his woman. Pearly sekta skin, fire-berry hair, plump breasts capped off with translucent pink nipples, and a patch of fire-berry hair between her thighs that could cause any warrior to spill his life-force at the mere sight of it.

  That thought made him frown. He liked not the notion that other warriors would desire her, yet could it not be helped. She was a rare skinned beauty indeed. No man would dare seduce the nee’ka of the Emperor of Trek Mi Q’an and High King of Tryston, yet would he still feel better once the joining was accomplished.

  Zor ran a large hand over his wench’s breasts. He tweaked a plump nipple, grunting with satisfaction as it hardened for him, then bent his head to suckle from it. The feel of it against his tongue was too much. He groaned as his shaft hardened and lengthened, deciding ‘twas probably best not to tempt his self with what he could not have until they reached the palace.

  Zor released her nipple, a slight popping sound echoing in the quiet bedchamber aboard the gastrolight cruiser as he did so. He realized with a yawn that he was nigh as fatigued as his wee High Queen. Questing and mate claiming was a tiring business.

  Unable to resist, his hand trailed a path down her taut belly and grazed in the fiery pelt between her legs. He played there absently as he rested his head on her breasts and settled in for a nap.

  ‘Twas bliss.

  * * * * *

  Kyra awoke as a devastating orgasm slammed through her body. Breathing deeply to calm herself, she made to get up so she could fig
ure out what in the hell was going on. And then she realized she couldn’t. Somebody’s heavy body was sprawled across her own limp one.

  Kyra closed her eyes tightly, afraid to look down, terrified to see whose body had hers pinned to the bed. After all, the day’s events were coming back to her. The giant men in the parking lot. The hypnotic gaze of the dark-haired man. Her clothes ripping off and flying to only God knows where. Geris’s screams. The barbarian charging…

  She opened her eyes, realizing she needed to know if said barbarian was the one responsible for capturing her and bringing her sleeping body into wakeful climax. Good grief, had she been raped?

  No! It wasn’t possible! She frantically reassured herself that she’d feel at least some tenderness between her thighs if she’d been brutalized. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to be raped. She gulped, wide-eyed and mortified by the idea of it.

  Summoning every ounce of willpower and courage she possessed, Kyra swallowed roughly and chanced a glance down her body.

  It was him.

  And he was sleeping.

  Kyra gawked at the brazen man’s audacity. He was asleep, yes, but even in slumber he was manhandling her. His mouth was latched onto her right nipple while his fingers idly stroked the hair between her legs like some exotic pet. The tips of his meandering fingers occasionally came into contact with her clitoris, sending tiny pulses of heat through her belly.

  She frowned. It was obvious to her now how she’d been brought to orgasm. Good grief! The man could accomplish while asleep what her ex-boyfriend Todd had been unable to do while awake.

  Not knowing what to do or even what to think of this bizarre situation, Kyra studied the profile of the giant slumbering at her breast. He was a frightening looking man, handsome but terrifying at the same time. And yet, the more she watched him the less fear she harbored of him, and the more connected she felt toward him. It was a strange sensation. Definitely creepy. She wanted to be afraid of him, realized even that she should be, but for some strange reason she simply wasn’t. Annoyed with him—very, but not afraid.