Winner of the “Spicy Rose” editor’s pick award from Ellora’s Cave at the 2011 Romanticon conference in Akron, Ohio.
Copyright © KATHLEEN LASH, 2011
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
Chapter One
“My, God!” The gates to the palace crashed open as Rose DeSantin stared in horror. Everything she’d worked to build was about to change. A sickening weakness stole the strength from her knees. She waved her hand close to the monitor, which caused it to blacken. How could this happen? In the ten preceding years, the people of her home planet, Mornella had grown stronger, confident and yielded unforeseeably abundant results in galactic trade and industry. How could they have been so ill prepared for an attack? Why would anyone want to cripple everything she’d work so hard to build?
Her chief consultant, Jace Powell, stroked her arm, startling her. “Demure DeSantin, you must make haste to the bunker.”
“I will not leave my people.”
“Demure, take refuge with the others. If the attackers wish to bargain, you’ll be informed. We both witnessed Visor Denton’s demise just beyond the palace perimeter. You now rule Mornella. We need you safe.”
The floor trembled as something huge battered the thick metal doors leading to the great hall of Mornella’s inner sanctum. Her hand flew to her chest, covering her thundering heart. She took several steps back. “This is it, then.” Her end. Even if she ran like a madwoman, she’d never escape to the bunker in time. She damned the decision to keep technology to a minimum on the planet. Why hadn’t she fought harder to leave necessary equipment available to the people?
Another loud crash resonated through the massive chamber as the metal doors buckled inward. She jumped and took another step back, holding her breath. It wouldn’t be long now.
Jace dropped to his knees and took her hand. “Forgive me for not assuring your safety, Demure.”
“I chose to remain at my post.” She squeezed his fingers. “I’m grateful to have your company just now though.”
The doors rattled as the palace trembled. They side stepped chunks of falling ceiling, which crashed and broke around them. He kissed her fingers, stood and reached behind a long curtain. He drew two swords, extending the handle of one to her. “Shall we give them a go, Demure?”
Her mouth dropped open. She’d no experience in the use of weapons. Her skill lay in factoring out breeding schedules for the herds of coserns and growing schedules for the rare mandrite fruits. Never once had she wielded a weapon, sophisticated or otherwise. The fate of her people weighed heavily on her heart. She accepted the blade.
He offered a reassuring smile. “They don’t seem to have much regard for what lies in this room. Do what you can when they breach the door.”
The length of her ruffled gown concealed her quivering knees. She needed to remain strong and unshaken for Jace. He too was likely terrified. Oh, sweet hindsight, why hadn’t they permitted better weaponry on the planet? Self defense seemed more evil than good in the hands of the citizens. Congress had also retired the monitoring and artillery stations on the planet to replace them with the newest defense system. No one should’ve gained access to Mornella.
One-on-one, hand-to-hand combat simply didn’t happen these days except on backward, barbaric planets. Those attacking didn’t abide traditional methods of warfare. The invaders destroying her home seemed bent on a bloody, close and personal attack.
As more stones fell, she and Jace ducked and dodged the heavy debris. One final blast would see the enemy inside. She raised the weighty sword and stood ready. Allow my death to provide safety to the good citizens in the bunkers. May there be enough people in government left to rebuild our way of life.
The massive doors burst apart as a fireball roared into the chamber. Jace pulled her to the floor, throwing himself on top of her as it growled overhead. Acrid bluish smoke filled the room. The scent of burnt hair assailed her nostrils. Dear God, was Jace on fire? Was she? She couldn’t feel anything with his weight atop her. “Jace! Jace, are you all right?”
“Yes, Demure.”
The interlopers entered, quietly coughing. She rolled Jace off her back and jumped to her feet. She hefted the sword over her shoulder just as he stood up beside her. Her heart pounded.
isions of a bloody, painful death forced bile to her throat. She didn’t want to die. As she tried to see through the billowing smoke, fearing the attack, she prayed for a miracle.
The blade shook in her trembling hands. Tears ran from her eyes. She gasped for air, trying to identify the enemy as they slowly emerged through the thick cloud of smoke.
All at once she swung, hoping to chop an attacker in half. A grunt escaped with her clumsy attempt. The small sound alerted the filmy shadow and her sword struck metal. The resounding vibration rattled her teeth and hands. “No, damn it!”
Determined, she kept hold of the grooved hilt and raised the sword again. She’d be quicker this time, having an idea what to expect. Intent on killing at least one of those responsible for the devastation of everything she’d toiled to build, she aimed. Hold still, murderer!
When the blade fell a second time and hit metal, the vibration caused the weapon to leap from her hands and clang noisily on the floor. She’d barely stooped to retrieve it when something massive grabbed hold of her throat. She scratched and clawed frantically, trying to dislodge the hand. She couldn’t breathe!
“You fight like a wench, you little bastard.” A distorted face appeared in the smoke. He inhaled close to her face. “You smell like one too.”
The hand at her throat tightened, squeezing her windpipe. Her feet left the floor. Kicking wildly, she clawed the arm holding her, but fell limp from the lack of air. As the fog swirled and began dissipating, she closed her eyes in defeat.
“Ugh!” The guttural sound had come from Jace. Obviously, he hadn’t done any better at fighting than she had. The clank of a sword hitting the floor echoed through the chamber.
The vice-like pressure eased from her throat and Rose fell unceremoniously to the floor. She choked on the vile smoke, turned onto her side and drew her knees to her chest, gasping for air.
“Stand your ground, mates!”
The raspy, impossibly deep voice sounded familiar.
“Wait for the room to clear to see what other surprises await.” The man coughed and cleared his throat. “Only strike if attacked.”
Surely the villains couldn’t be anyone she knew. The accent of the man sounded familiar though. The distinct enunciations belonged to the base-born inhabitants of the planet Arghee. It couldn’t be. From what she knew, they struggled to rebuild their society after years of infighting.
Soft, feminine laughter drifted through the silence. Rose opened her eyes to find the room nearly cleared of smoke. Soon, masculine guffaws grew in volume. Her stomach sank. She didn’t look to see how many attackers surrounded her because the tip of a sword remained poised an inch from her cheek.
A female voice said, “Aye, Cap’n, you did well in disarming the brute at your feet. Did gaining her sword tax you greatly?”
Resounding laughter bounced from the walls. There must be at least fifty of the bastards.
“Stow it, Hawk,” the man standing above her said. The room fell quiet.
The tip of the sword poked her shoulder. Not enough to puncture the skin, but it hurt like hell. Rose rolled to her back, still coughing.
“Damn me! It can’t be. Rose?”
She wiped her eyes. His raspy, deep voice rattled her mind. He sounded so much like…impossible. Jon Paul Blade died more than nine years prior. Certainly no ghost stood over her!
As her vision cleared, she found herself gazing at the face of a man long dead. Shoulder length black hair surrounded his face. He wore scarred black leather pants and knee high black boots, adorned with glistening silver chains. This absolutely could not be the same man she’d spent time with so long ago. Jon Paul Blade had appeared dangerous, but in a calculating, intelligent, cultured way. The man standing above her now, looked uncivilized, uncaring and ruthless.
“You know her?” the woman asked.
He reached for Rose and she screamed. She used the heels of her boots to scoot away from the six-and-a-half-foot-tall apparition of the man she’d once loved.
“Aye, Cap’n, she knows you all right.”
Perhaps they were all ghosts, getting some sick amusement from her terror. Could it be she’d already died and resided in hell? She refused to wait around and find out. After staggering to her feet, she ran blindly toward the door. She’d gained only two strides before a muscled arm hooked around her stomach, dragging her backward against the brick wall form of a man.
She screamed.
“Not so fast, Rose. I figured I’d have to hunt for you. Since you’re conveniently here, you and I have some business to attend.”
“No!” Rose kicked his legs and clawed his arms. The burst of adrenaline quickly died and she slumped against him, trembling. No ghost held her. It was much worse. Dear God!
“You done?” he asked, tightening his arm before giving her a good shake.
She coughed and nodded dumbly, still digesting the fact he’d managed to escape death. Her heart raced with happiness because somehow he’d been spared, before plummeting, seeing what he’d become.
“You better be, wench.”
Wench? Wench! No one addressed her in such a manner! The stupor cleared immediately. She drew her leg up and smashed her heel into his booted shin. He yelped.
“Release me and then go straight to hell!”
“Owee! My, oh my! Your wench has a way with words, Cap’n!” the woman chided with men joining her in laughter.
“Where are the others, Rose?” He placed her on her feet and twisted her around by the shoulders. He grabbed her chin and raised it.
She closed her eyes, making him disappear.
“Answer me!” He shook her. “Where’s the trap? Where are the others?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her stiff shoulders ached, and her teeth rattled from the thrashing.
He loosened his hold. “I’ve no time for lies. Where’re the guards that should be posted here?”
“Beyond the perimeter fending off your attack.”
“Blast it, wench, give me the truth! We cut through those men in less than an hour! Where are the others? They wouldn’t leave such a grand and important bitch behind.”
Those sent to defend the inner sanctum had been viciously murdered! She’d ordered them to their deaths! She’d hoped some had surrendered and survived. Knowing they’d all perished, her hands and feet went numb.
“Rose!”
Her eyes burst open, startled by his demanding, thunderous voice. The intelligent, deeply passionate blue orbs she’d once adored had changed. A large black patch masked one eye. The pale blue iris in the other rendered an indifferent, frozen man, bent on murder and victory.
“You better answer me.”
The dark-haired, blue-eyed charmer from so many years ago had been replaced with a blood-thirsty savage. The black scruff on his chin and around his mouth showed a man unconcerned with grooming, cleanliness or civility. The black tattoos of skulls and half-decayed corpses displayed on his naked chest, shoulders and upper arms, clearly portrayed what blackness lay in his soul.
“I already have,” she screamed, her stomach turning and knees shaking. What’s happened to you, Jon Paul?
“She speaks the truth!” Jace said, rising to his knees, clutching a hand to his bloody stomach. “She sent them beyond to give us a chance at defense.”
Jon Paul shoved her away. Another man grabbed her arms, steadying her on her feet. He walked to Jace and towered over her wounded supporter. “And you let her do it? You allowed the high and mighty bitch to remain here unprotected?”
“I defer to her will, you putrid piece of—” Jace’s head snapped sideways from the blow landed by Jon Paul. “Fucking bloodthirsty, wanton, thieving pirate!”
Jon Paul threw his head back and bellowed. To be referred to as a pirate was, in and of itself, sufficient grounds for one man to kill another. The insult remained the very worst a being could utter.
Rose’s skin roughened from the sound roaring from Jon Paul. He laughed heartily, madly, like a man no longer possessing a soul. She shivered too because it seemed he reveled in the heinous moniker Jace cast at him. Once he stopped laughing, the smile melted from his lips. “And you let her stay here while the rest of your grand counsel hides?”
“Again, I defer to the wisdom of my betters. She chose to remain to ensure the others reached safety. She also chose to face you bravely, at the forefront of our people to negotiate.”
“And now that we’ve met,” he said, resting his hand on the hilt of the sword in the sheath at his waist, “what chance do you think she has at reaching an accord with me?”
“None. We’ll die. She was prepared to face that possibility also.”
“Aye, you think so?” Jon Paul turned to regard her. “What if she didn’t die?”
“You’ll spare her?” Two men helped Jace remain kneeling by supporting his upper arms. “You’ll show mercy?”
Jon Paul stared at her until she fidgeted and fought to escape. She’d never seen a more evil expression on a man’s face. Unconsciously, she began slowly shaking her head as her heart thudded erratically.
His jaw tightened as his nostrils flared. “Mercy? I’ve no such weakness left in my gut.”
“But, you said…”
“I said she’d live.” He stepped directly before her, brushing his fingers against her cheek as his eye raked her neck and chest. “And in giving her that gift, I’ll reap a reward.”
“No!” The word no sooner escaped Jace’s lips when Jon Paul grabbed the neckline of her gown and tore it down the front. “Take your filthy eyes from her!”
Rose swallowed and concentrated on meeting Jon Paul’s gaze. A sick, helpless feeling swirled in the pit of her stomach.
“She doesn’t seem too brave or defiant now, does she, mates? Underneath the fine frippery is nothing but a wench.”
Chuckles and snickers assailed her from every direction. One of the men said, “You think she’ll like what we do to her?”
“More than likely,” Jon Paul replied, slowly parting the tear in her dress to reveal her white satin slip. “She’s breathing like she wants something. Maybe she likes the idea of being rode hard by many a mate.”
He took her breasts into his large, hot palms. She refused to give a reaction when all she wanted to do was scream. When last she’d seen him, he’d barely touched her arm to escort her. He’d treated her so gently, appropriately, respectfully.
“You’ve grown some, wench. In all the right places, I’d say.”
“Take your hands from her this instant you filthy, vile bastard!” Jace bellowed.
Jon Paul turned in Jace’s direction, took a few strides and swung low. The impact to Jace’s already bleeding stomach caused him to pitch forward. The men holding him let go and stepped back, causing him to drop, his forehead smacking the floor.
“Lesson one. While I appreciate a man with some guts, you need to stow the blabber to keep yours tucked nice and neat inside your belly. As for Rose, she’ll get accustomed to my hands on her, and in her, bringing her pain and agony to match what my fallen mates felt as they suffered and bled.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rose insisted, struggling for freedom.
“I’ve no time to play games.”
“I’m not—”
“Now,” he said, turning toward her. “You’ll hurry to tell me where the Mornella Congress is hiding.”
“They hold no real power. You know that. You’ve also taken Visor Denton’s life.” Rose’s words tumbled as her voice trembled. She simply couldn’t sound calm and rational. “Jace and I are all that remain of the true leadership of Mornella. Can’t you be satisfied? Can’t you allow our people a chance to come past this?”
“No. You’re but the head of the serpent, Rose. I don’t trust the rest of it to stop wiggling because I’ve stolen the eyes and tongue of the beast. I want the whole bloody thing to make the nightmare end here and now.”
“Cap’n Blade,” one man said, “your pardon, sir, but it seems this one over here isn’t long for this place, if you catch my meaning.”
Rose cast her gaze at Jace who’d been laid on his back. He coughed up blood, which spattered his pale cheeks. She bit hard on her lip to keep from crying out. Such wrongful violence!
Jon Paul grabbed her chin and stepped closer. “You want him to die like that? It could take hours. His suffering will be great.” He grasped her cheeks to make her return his gaze. “You can make it stop. Show the man some mercy and tell me where they are.”
Her numb lips trembled as she gazed into his icy stare. “It’s his suffering or the lives of many. I choose the latter.”
“I’m surprised.”
She jerked free and sneered. Jon Paul drew back his arm. She braced herself for the slap by raising her chin. Go ahead, you filthy pirate, hit me. The long, dark lashes surrounding his piercing eye narrowed the slightest bit as he slowly lowered his hand.
Rose’s teeth gnashed tight. I didn’t do anything!
“Cap’n?” the woman pirate asked. “Can I have this one?”
Jon Paul turned toward the dirty, blood-covered woman hovering over Jace. “For what?”
“He’s pretty, Cap’n. Besides, a spin on a medic table will see him well in no time. If your wench doesn’t talk, he might loosen his chops if I get the chance to pet and play with him a bit.” She winked and pulled a shiny, sharp knife from the sheath in her belt before gesturing it toward Jace. “Besides, we’re not exactly making progress down here. We best get aboard to interrogate these two.”
A chorus of, “Please, please, please,” came from his men, followed by a burst of laughter.
Rose drew her leg back and lashed out with her feet, managing to kick Jon Paul several times. The clips holding her hair let loose as she raged and screamed. “You bastards! He’s a man, damn you! A good and righteous man! He’s not a play thing for you to mend and then take apart again!”
Jon Paul watched Rose’s unbridled fury until nothing came from her but strangled sounds. He didn’t lift a finger to have her silenced either. He let her fit run its course so he wouldn’t need to yell above her. “Bring them both,” he eventually said.
“We’re quitting, Cap’n, just like that?” Oddorn asked. The older mate didn’t display a shimmering ember of intelligence most of the time, but he’d proven his loyalty over the years.
“No, we’re practicing patience.”
“Huh?”
“With the small handful of mates at our backs, we’d have better luck catching a rodent in a forest than finding Mornella’s fine Congress. Rodents bury and scurry. They’ll likely do the same. I bet calling down mates from the other ships wouldn’t gain us a thing. I say we take our new playthings aboard and make ‘em talk while Polly scans the bowels of this here planet to see if she can glean the whereabouts of the missing bastards.” His computer, Polly, took some time to factor things out, but she eventually made good on her attempts.
Rose’s complexion turned from pale to ashen. Good. She wasn’t as ignorant as he’d come to believe. She knew, or at least suspected, what lay in store for her and her fine, righteous young assistant. Jon Paul owed her a lashing harsh enough to strip the hide from her back. Who could say for sure exactly how far he’d take the interrogation though. Not likely half as far as he should. Blast her soft features and softer body. She’d ordered many of his mates murdered. She’d pay. “Let’s move!”
Oddorn took one of the young man’s arms, and to Jon Paul’s surprise, Hawk took the other. The feisty wench seldom strained herself or bothered toting heavy things with all the men about. She actually planned on helping heft him to the transport spot. She certainly took a fancy to the little shit. Jon Paul wondered briefly how her usual bunkmate, Thorn, would take to Hawk’s latest fancy.
As for Rose’s abduction, it didn’t go nearly so smooth. She kicked and hissed and dug her little heels into the broken stone floor, making the two mates towing her, work for each foot they gained. One drew back a fist to cease her protests. He first glanced in Jon Paul’s direction. Jon Paul shook his head. Rose’s punishment would be handled by no one but him.
They held her tight and tugged. They’d likely rip her arms from their sockets if they continued yanking her like that. He stomped back to fetch her himself. He grabbed her wrists, bound them in a single hand and slung her over his shoulder. “Take the blasted boots from her,” he yelled, receiving some errant kicks from the pointy toes.
After a few tries and some cursing, they managed the simple task. When he started walking, she settled a bit. Damn, that didn’t seem right. What the hell was she up to?
He knew exactly what would happen the minute he felt heated breath against his shoulder blade. “Argh, you wench! Bite me again and you’ll get some turn about. Think on that. My teeth are bigger and sharper than yours.”
So there’d be no misunderstanding, he held her legs firmly and pulled her wrists until she stretched across his shoulders and around his neck, bent in half good and tight. The whimpering told him she understood.
I wasn’t joking when I said I’d bite you back, you little bitch. A grin spread across his lips. Aye, he’d use his teeth on her tender flesh, but not to draw blood as she’d done to him. He’d test the skin on her neck before sampling those nipples he felt. He bet she’d like a bit of nibbling on those. Most wenches did. Ah and the things he wanted to do to her pussy! He’d spent many evenings learning the different ways to lick, suck, poke, prod and tease. Aye, he liked to play and make a wench drip and moan and beg for a solid round of fucking. Before he finished with Rose, she’d likely tell him anything he wanted to know.
Kicking rubble from his path, he led the procession down the once-imposing steps of the high palace of Mornella. Not so grand a place now, is it, Rose? He felt justified in having made the structure look as broken and warped as those who’d once sat inside, perched in high and mighty chairs, deciding the fate of decent folk. Too bad his small Rose chose a wrongful life of greed and power. It didn’t bother him too much though. He’d break her of it. He’d pondered it for many years.
“Polly, bring us aboard,” Jon Paul said once they’d reached the transfer point.
Squaaaawk, screeched in his ear from the small transmitter as the Black Blade descended into view from the clouds. Damn, but I’ll get that noise fixed yet! Each time they managed to rid the processor of the dreadful blast, somehow its programming found and reinstalled it.
“Polly!”
“Aye, Cap’n,” came the grating, high-pitched, mechanical voice.
He’d requested a lush, seductive, feminine voice module. Instead he received the replica of his great-great-ma, Pollyanne. Hence, the computer’s name. “Bring us aboard.”
Polly’s shrill voice squawked back, “You gave me orders to leave your worthless hides on Mornella ‘til you dealt with the Congress.”
After taking and letting go of an enormous breath, he calmed. It did little good to get cross with the machine. In fact, at times, the shrill-talking, light-blinking piece of shit grew downright depressed if he’d holler. “I changed my mind, dear. Bring us aboard please.”
One man snickered louder than the rest. Jon Paul added, “With the exception of Oddorn, Polly. He’ll be staying for a time to begin the hunt. Alone.”
“As you wish, Cap’n.”
Without any fuss at all, their bits reassembled on board the pride of his fleet. Most folk feared the Black Blade and the ships keeping his company. They should. He, his mates and their fleet acquired quite a reputation for combing the heavens, fighting monsters and collecting treasures in preparation for this most important day. The men of Arghee now possessed the spirit and experience to extract the revenge due them. They’d also gained the financial means to take over when the last stinking Mornella leader fell.
Jon Paul didn’t waste time and began the walk to his quarters. “Give Polly what she needs to sniff those bastards from their burrow,” he bellowed over his shoulder.
“Where’re you heading, Cap’n?” Hawk asked.
“You work with Polly. I’ll see if the wench can’t give me some answers quicker.”
His mates exploded into a heated round of betting. Hawk’s voice rose above the men. It’d be best if she took her captive to medical or she’d find herself with one dead buck. She wagered quickly on Jon Paul’s tactics over the abilities of the computer, placing a month’s pay to seal the bet. He surely liked the way the wench looked up to him.
Rose once viewed him like that. He’d been ten-feet tall at the time, filled with fine ideas about the honorable path he’d take in life. No longer. He knew in his gut, the path to leading a good and decent life was laced with scars and blood and pieces of a mate’s soul. He’d grown up.
He trudged along, shifting the bundle draped across his shoulders as she wiggled and squirmed. On a better day, he might’ve appreciated having Rose at hand. At the moment, all he could think about was how to wring answers from her in the quickest manner possible. The sooner the members of Congress died, the faster he could sail on about his life.
“Damn you, wench!” he bellowed, feeling blood trickle from where she’d bitten him most recently. “I warned you!”
He turned his head, opened his mouth and took a portion of her upper thigh between his choppers. Of course, he also gained a taste of the fine, silken slip too. He licked, savoring the texture and taste upon his tongue. She didn’t move, probably prepared for the worst. Slowly, he set his teeth into her flesh, but he didn’t bite down. When she whimpered, he reckoned she’d learned a lesson. He bet the little bitch wouldn’t draw more of his blood before they reached his cabin.
He returned his attention to the corridor. Her body gained ten pounds as she relaxed. He sneered. Obviously she believed he’d actually bite her! He let go of her wrists and swiped his palm over his face. Only a wench would fight with their claws and teeth and bloody hell, he wasn’t a wench! When she dug her nails into his already bloody back, he couldn’t think of a better time to give her a demonstration on how he would fight.
The flat of his palm connected with her arse. Her whole body jumped. Lordie, but she had one fine, bouncy behind! He treated himself to the feel of it between the firm slaps.
Pounding on his back and clawing him gained her nothing. “You lowly, dog-faced, misbegotten, rotten bastard!”
He wondered when she’d get around to name calling. He never understood why wenches did it. Did they think a man like him had feelings? Although her words didn’t really bother him, he figured she should at least learn to treat him with a measure of respect. After all, he currently had control. He spanked her harder.
“Ouch! Damn it! Ouch! Stop this instant, you soulless, vicious, dirty, rotten, woman abusing, sneaky, murdering whore monger! “
And here he thought a high-born lady like her didn’t know such words. “Watch your head, wench,” he warned prior to passing through a low doorway into the next corridor.
Thwack!
Obviously she didn’t listen. He grimaced with how hard her head thumped the opening. It didn’t slow her temper a bit.
“Bravo! You plan to beat me and throw me into doorways! Brilliant plan, you filthy pirate!”
He laughed. She couldn’t be hurting too bad, hurling insults every ten seconds.
“Son of a beast! Belly crawler! Vermin eater!”
If that’s the best she could do…
“Coward!”
He stilled.
That did it! No one ever called Jon Paul Blade a coward! Thankfully they’d reached his quarters. He blinked as the light from the retinal scan confirmed who stood by the entrance. The door swung open. He set her on her feet. When she gained a glimpse of his face, she started walking backward. He figured his expression made her retreat. His temper fairly raged. He kept pace by taking one step to two of hers. They stopped when her backside hit the shower enclosure.
“Door—lock. No entrance or exit.” He watched her swallow when the massive internal locking mechanism ground into place. Although he stared at her, he issued a verbal command to the room. “I’ve a prisoner. Prepare the cabin for female interrogation.”
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