The Empress' New Clothes Read online

  Kyra reminded herself that, big oaf or not, she had no reason to doubt him. He had told the truth about the bridal necklace’s “singing”—she had been thinking of another man, though not in the way her alleged Sacred Mate had imagined. So why doubt his word now? What choice did she have but to believe him?

  Kyra begrudgingly confessed to herself that she could think of worse fates. Whether or not the barbarian exasperated her, she was attracted to him.

  Huh? No! No! No! She absolutely was not attracted to him!

  Oh god, yes she was.

  Kyra clapped a hand to her forehead and moaned dejectedly. She didn’t understand what was happening to her. Her mind hadn’t accepted Zor, as well it shouldn’t—she scarcely knew the man—yet her body and emotions had already quit resisting. What had he done to her?

  Kyra drew in a deep breath and released it. There was no point in belaboring the issue. For now she would have to go with the flow, or at least until she found a way back home.

  A frightening thought occurred to Kyra at once. Her eyes bulged out as she regarded him. “Shouldn’t we mate or something now?”

  Zor’s shaft thought so. It perked up at the mere mentioning. Unfortunately, ritual deemed otherwise. “Nay. We will join for the first time when we reach Tryston.”

  “But you said that wouldn’t be for another two days!” she screeched. “What if I’m dead by the time we get there? I really think we should have sex now!” Kyra was taking no chances that she’d wake up a corpse.

  Zor smiled with a hunter’s satisfaction. He might be stretching the truth to get his Sacred Mate into bed willingly, but once he got her there she’d never choose to leave it. Of this he was certain. “Nay, nee’ka. Your bridal necklace will not need my life-force every moon-rising until the joining has taken place.”

  Kyra considered that piece of information for a moment. “Then perhaps we shouldn’t join to begin with. Then it won’t need your life-force at all.”

  Zor’s smile faltered. His wench was too smart for a primitive. He thought quickly, rebounding like a true High King. “It, uh, it still needs my life-force. But it can go for three full moon-risings once it’s clasped about your neck. After that, if there is no joining…” He let his words trail off ominously as he slashed his finger across his throat and made a hellish gurgling sound.

  Kyra winced. “Good grief. We’ll make it to Tryston in time to save me?”

  He nodded.

  She expelled a breath of air. “Thank god for that.”

  Satisfied he’d accomplished what he’d set out to do, Zor stretched out on the bed beside his Sacred Mate and pulled her down to lie on his chest. He ignored her shriek of dismay. “All of this talk of death has worn me out. Let us sleep, nee’ka, then we will rise and I shall feed you. You will also meet my brother ‘ere we eat.”

  Kyra huffed incredulously as she was pulled down onto Zor’s Herculean chest against her will. He situated her body against his flat, heavily muscled stomach, then began to knead her buttocks. Gasping, it irritated her even more when she glanced up at his face only to find him smiling dreamily, his eyes closed. She felt like Fay Ray to his King Kong. A barbie doll the odious brute had found and refused to give up.

  Sighing dramatically, Kyra gave up. She lowered her face to the area of his chest above his heart and let it drop the rest of the way with a telling, no-nonsense thud. “All right, you win,” she said wearily. “I’ll go to sleep. But first, I want to put some clothes on.”

  Zor grunted. His eyes remained shut. “You will always remain naked whilst alone in my presence, yet will I allow you the dress of Trystonni women whilst in the company of others.”

  Kyra sighed. The man was infuriating, but she was suddenly too overcome with the enormity of it all to continue fighting with him. Sleep might not be such a bad idea. Perhaps when she woke up she’d have the energy to argue with High King Kong about her attire, or lack thereof. “Has anyone ever told you what a jerk you are?” she asked bitterly. Kyra couldn’t resist one last jab. “Well?” she inquired shrilly, “have they?”

  When his only answer was the faint sound of snoring, her nostrils flared in agitation. Harrumphing, Kyra gave up the fight. She nestled her head into the valley between his neck and shoulder and closed her eyes.

  She was very tired, Kyra soon decided. This had been the most trying day of her life. Yawning, her body went limp against Zor’s.

  A few seconds later, Kyra Q’ana Tal fell asleep to the feel of her husband caressing her buttocks with whisper soft touches. Somewhere in the back of her mind lurked the distressing thought that she’d never felt more at peace then she did while being held in a certain barbarian’s arms.

  Huh? No! No! No!

  Oh god—yes, yes, yes.

  Chapter 6

  “You call this clothing! I can see right through it!”

  Kyra frowned at her Sacred Mate in the holographic mirror aboard the gastrolight cruiser’s main bedchamber, then resumed her perusal of the wanton image she presented. Good grief! Even if she lived to be a hundred years old, never in all of her life would she grow accustomed to dressing so scantily.

  And all women of Tryston were attired like this? Geez. The place was probably Hugh Heffner’s dream come true.

  Zor leaned down and kissed the back of her shoulder. “You look more beautiful than any woman I have ever beheld, nee’ka.”

  She scowled at him for good measure—and because she felt like it—then turned back to the hologram mirror. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip. “Zor, I cannot wear this. I feel like an idiot in it.”

  “Women are permitted no attire but the qi'ka, my hearts. You must wear this.”

  Kyra spun around. “Zor, I insist—” She stopped mid-tirade. Her jaw dropped open. She gaped at him for a suspended moment. “Wait a minute. Why did you just call me your hearts, as in plural?” Thinking better of it, she closed her eyes and held up a palm to silence any forthcoming explanations. “Never mind. I’m certain I don’t want to know.” Shaking her head to ward off insanity, Kyra took a deep breath and whipped back around to face the hologram mirror again.

  Good grief! How could she wear this!

  The outfit, if one could indeed stretch the meaning of the word enough to call it such, consisted of two pieces of sheer fabric. The first piece was similar to a strapless bikini top and was tied together in a knot in the valley between her breasts. The second piece of material was a sarong skirt that started just below her navel and cinched together in a knot on her left hip, exposing her entire left leg and flowing down to just above her sandaled feet. Her midsection was completely bare.

  Even this, embarrassing as it was, Kyra could have lived with, were it not for the fact that the material was virtually see-through. The qi’ka Zor had selected for her today was of a silvery translucent silk, apparently to match her eyes. Although the outfit offered minimal protection, it was still transparent enough for anyone looking at her to make accurate guesses on her nipple and pubic hair color. Good grief! Even she could see the wine-colored shadow between her thighs!

  Kyra’s shoulders drooped dejectedly. “I’m not feeling so well. I think I would prefer to eat in here tonight,” she muttered.

  Zor reached toward her in sympathy and patted her bottom. She yelped. “’Twill be alright, nee’ka. ‘Tis best do you get used to wearing the qi’ka whilst in my brother’s presence, else will you feel that much worse if you must wear it for the first time in front of the whole of our people.”

  Standing behind her, he reached around and rubbed Kyra’s left thigh. “Here, there is only my brother King Dak and his friend Kita the pugmuff to see you. When we reach Tryston, hundreds upon thousands will wish to meet their High Queen.”

  Kyra shuddered at the very thought. A chill raced down her spine, inducing her flesh to goose pimple and her nipples to harden. She didn’t want to think about that.

  Forcing herself to think of less terrifying things, Kyra met her husband’s gaze in the hologram
mirror. “Why do women dress like this on Tryston?”

  Zor craned his neck down to kiss her temple. He reached around her body and stroked her nipples through the sheer fabric. “Because it brings a warrior pleasure.”

  She closed her eyes and sucked in her breath. The sensations his hands were producing were exquisite. She didn’t want to enjoy his touching, but did.

  Qi’ka—somewhere through the haze of pleasure, it dawned on Kyra that the literal translation of the word meant “my pleasure”. She now understood that when a Trystonni said “my” it implied “warrior’s”. Qi’ka—my pleasure, or warrior’s pleasure. That knowledge irritated her immensely.

  Determined to be as disagreeable as possible, Kyra tried to dislodge Zor’s hands from her breasts. He didn’t budge. “Is everything on Tryston made for a warrior’s pleasure?” she asked acidly.

  Zor answered her unashamedly. “Aye.” He continued to play with her nipples through the qi’ka’s top. “Such is the way of all things on Tryston, nee’ka.”

  Nee’ka—my desire, or warrior’s desire. Nee’ka was interchangeable, also meaning wife.

  “And what of your women?” Kyra pressed on, her eyes glazing over from the physical stimulation. “What of their pleasure?” she asked quietly.

  Zor laved the outside of her ear with his tongue. “A warrior lives only to please her back.”

  Kyra sucked in her breath. She closed her eyes and let her neck go limp, falling involuntarily back against the middle of her husband’s chest. Fighting off her arousal wasn’t working. “Oh.”

  Zor groaned as he continued to fondle her breasts and nibble seductively at her ear. “By the sands, how I cannot wait to join with you,” he breathed.

  That much was indeed obvious. If his thickly whispered words didn’t give his desire away, the fierce erection pressing into her back did. Kyra hated to admit it, but when Zor kissed and caressed her like this, she felt the same way that he did. She comforted herself with the assurance that it was only because she needed his life-force to prevent death by strangulation.

  Zor turned Kyra around in his arms and peered into her wide, silver eyes. She gasped, placing her hands on his massive chest in a self-protective gesture meant to ward him off.

  Understanding the confusion that all new brides not raised on Tryston harbored when faced with the natural conflict between their bodies need to join with its recognized mate and the mind’s abhorrence at lusting for a warrior unknown to them, Zor didn’t take offense at Kyra’s attempt to dislodge his grip on her shoulders. But neither did he give credence to it. Cupping the back of her head in his large hands, Zor lowered his mouth down to his nee’ka’s and drank from her lips.

  Kyra whimpered as a jolt of heat coursed from her lips down into her belly and onward to her groin. As if they possessed a will of their own, her arms wrapped themselves around her husband’s waist as best they could manage, then she parted her lips to invite him inside.

  Zor accepted. He plunged his tongue hungrily into his Sacred Mate’s mouth, wishing ‘twas time to plunge other parts of his person inside of her as well. He licked and stroked, plundered and took, arousing his nee’ka to ecstasy with naught but a kiss.

  Nay, ‘twas more than a kiss. All of his hunger, all of his desire, all of his passion was contained within it. Hundreds of years worth of waiting and hoping, needing and wanting. Mayhap she would never understand the significance of what it was that he was feeling.

  Kyra kissed him back with all that she had. It had never before been like this. No man had made every cell in her body tingle this way. Only Zor. Only this warrior. As insane as it seemed, it was as if he had been made for her and her alone.

  She inhaled deeply when her husband reluctantly ended their kiss. Her reaction to him only served to further confuse her in an already confusing situation. She was embarrassed by her reaction at first, but not after she noticed that Zor was as shaken as she was. His breathing was just as labored, his signs of arousal just as pronounced.

  “Ah nee’ka,” Zor groaned, kneading her buttocks. “We best stop.”

  Kyra took another deep breath. This was just too much. “Good idea.”

  Zor smiled down at her. He ran his hands through her fire-berry hair then tilted her chin up to gaze into her eyes. “What are you thinking?”

  She shrugged.

  “Tell me.”

  Kyra wrinkled her nose. “Honestly?”

  “Aye.”

  She shrugged again. “I was sort of wondering how it is that I can both understand you and speak to you in a tongue that is not of my own language.” She squinted her eyes a tad. “How can that be?”

  Zor traced a finger over her bridal necklace. “The moment I clasped it about you, you understood. The symbol of our union makes it thusly.”

  Kyra grimaced. “Don’t remind me of this awful, murderous thing.”

  A pang of guilt surged through Zor. He quickly brushed it aside. “You asked.”

  She nodded at that. “I suppose I did.”

  Zor bent his neck and brushed his lips against Kyra’s once more. He wished he hadn’t lied about the bridal necklace. He wanted her to have pride in it, not a fear of it. He vowed to make amends after they were joined. “There are at least ten times as many warriors as there are free women in Tryston. Thus, warriors must often mate outside of our race with women who do not speak our tongue.” He fingered the bridal necklace again. “This helps with that.”

  “I guess it would.”

  “Can we greet my brother now, nee’ka?” Zor squeezed her buttocks as he continued to knead them.

  Kyra sighed. She loathed the idea of parading around all but naked, but saw little choice in the matter. Zor was right. Better to get used to it in front of his brother and his brother’s friend than to have to get used to wearing the qi’ka surrounded by the tons of people she was bound to encounter on Tryston.

  Besides, this Dak character was probably used to seeing women dressed like this. Most likely he wouldn’t notice anything at all about her body. “Okay,” she agreed, though somewhat reluctantly, “let’s go.”

  * * * * *

  “By the sands, sister, you have magnificent breasts.”

  Kyra cringed a little lower in her seat at the golden crystal table. So much for Dak not noticing anything at all about her body. She glared at her alleged brother-in-law, hoping she could summon him into silence.

  No such luck…

  Dak inclined his head to Zor. “I vow brother, our High Queen’s nipples have the look of ripe taka fruits.”

  A gurgling sound emitted from Kyra’s gaping jaw. She wanted to die.

  Zor’s chest puffed out arrogantly. Instead of defending her honor, the big oaf looked pleased by his brother’s words. The ogre actually reached toward her and flicked one of the taka fruits in question back and forth with his finger. “The tasting is much sweeter, brother.”

  Kyra glared at the man who called himself her husband, but he didn’t notice. He and his brother were too busy laughing lustily at each other like the lechers they were. Even the pugmuff creature was enjoying himself at her expense. Kyra fanned her hands in front of her eyes, nearly fainting from the smell that accompanied the bizarre creature’s snorting sounds. Good lord and she had thought she’d seen it all. A being with two asses, one of those asses where its face should be, of all things!

  Zor scowled. “By the goddess, Kita! Control your mirth.” He pinched his nose closed with his thumb and forefinger. Kyra noted that the whites of her ogre husband’s eyes were burning red.

  Good! As far as she was concerned, he deserved it for speaking of her as though she was a newly acquired toy. And for kidnapping her. And for dressing her like a lingerie model. And for—bah! She could go on all night.

  Kyra picked up her eating utensil, a golden crystal fork-spoon object, and shoved a piece of meat into her mouth. She chewed vigorously. The meat was pretty damned good, she begrudgingly admitted.

  The conversation picked up
and actually became somewhat enjoyable after that. Zor and Dak asked a lot of questions about her homeland and she gave them all of her answers. She tried not to notice when Dak’s eyes occasionally wandered to her breasts. In return, the warriors responded to all of the questions she had about Tryston and what was to be expected of her there.

  To Kyra’s dismay, though she couldn’t say why she cared as she didn’t plan to be there any longer than necessary, she soon understood that women weren’t expected to do anything on Tryston besides pleasure their warrior when summoned and breed his heirs. What a meaningless existence if ever there was one. She and Zor would have to speak on this more when they were alone.

  Not that she planned to stay on Tryston. If she could find a way to remove the bridal necklace, she would also find a way to go back home. But still, a little of the feminist movement could go a long way on this planet from the sound of things.

  The conversation carried on even after the meal ended. Zor draped his arm across Kyra’s chair and listened to his brother fill him in on the political situation within the colony he ruled. Zor nodded occasionally, scratched his chin now and again, and listened intently. Throughout the whole of it, his massive left hand continually stroked and tweaked at her left nipple in a leisurely manner.

  At first, Kyra had become embarrassed. In fact, she had come close to tears at one point. But then she took a hard look at her brother-in-law Dak’s oblivious expression and she realized that he truly thought nothing of Zor’s fondling. Even the comments he had made about her breasts had been uttered without malicious intent. She honestly wondered if either man even realized she had been embarrassed by his words.

  She doubted it.

  Good grief! What would Tryston be like? An image of couples screwing each other on the street popped into her head. They probably did it anywhere they felt like it with no regard for what others were witnessing. This was just too much. She was a tax accountant for goodness sake!