Queen of the Stars (The Royals of Adriel Book 1) Page 8

  He raised a brow and sauntered in. “You want something?”

  “I called for Darius,” she accused, her dark-blue eyes narrowing.

  “He’s busy. You’ll have to speak to me.”

  She turned her back to him and crossed her arms. “I will wait for him.”

  “Could be a while. But, as you wish … ”

  Frustration rushed through her as he moved for the door. She spun around on a bare heel and thrust out a finger. “You tell me, then! I demand to know why you have abducted me! I demand to know what is taking so long!” she raged, stamping her foot. “You have locked me up in this room for forever and—”

  He leaned his shoulder against the wall by the doorway, crossing his arms, entertained by her temper. She longed to slap the smile off of his face.

  “Could it be that the princess is bored?” he asked.

  “Now, why would I be bored!” she retorted sarcastically.

  He straightened. “I do have a cure for that,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

  He left her, locking the door, and she was left to wonder until he returned holding a garment bag. “There is a celebration tonight,” he said. “Dress, and you can join me.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you,” she replied, lifting her nose airily.

  He shoved the bag into her arms, put his hands on her shoulders, turned her around, and pushed her toward the bath.

  “No—I won’t!” she protested.

  “If the princess can’t dress herself, I will help her.”

  She gasped.

  “It’s your choice. But in ten minutes, ready or not, I’m coming in.”

  His face showed the seriousness of his threat before he pushed her into the bath and closed the door.

  It didn’t take long for Sarra to change. He had given her a harem costume to wear, a rich scarlet ensemble. She hurried into the one-piece garment, buttoning the loop at her nape, and hastily worked her long hair into a coil, pinning it and securing it beneath the costume’s elaborate headdress. Done, she stood back, and was taken aback by her reflection.

  She had a half-dozen, or so, harem costumes at home, for belly dancing had been a hobby of hers since she was twelve. But she didn’t have one that revealed so much of her. Even Alma would be shocked to see her wear such a thing!

  Nicks may as well force her to wear nothing. Although the garment enclosed her, it was devastating to her modesty. All that saved her virtue was a narrow band that scarcely covered her breasts and a triangular girth beneath her waist, both satin and of a scarlet hue. Sheer gauze, a shade lighter, enveloped her from her shoulders down to her wrists, and down to her ankles, and her fair skin gleamed beneath the delicate haze that undulated like flame with her slightest movement. Low on her hips was a thin belt embellished with red jewels, and the leggings were loose upon her, flowing down to the tight cuffs at her ankles that were also made of gems. Even the slippers glittered with the tiny treasures.

  Shakily, she touched the plush and crinkled scarlet headdress, one that had a tiara embedded just above her golden brows. She saw the astonishment in her dark-blue eyes. This was worse than if she were naked, the costume created to provoke lust. Her hand trembled while she pulled the loose veil of the headdress over her nose and secured it to the hook by her ear, hiding her blushing behind the red shimmer.

  “My God!” she whispered, her worry deepening. “Dear God!”

  She flinched as the door opened and she saw Nicks reflected in the mirror. His eyes widened, then narrowed … and then lost all expression. Her breath caught, having seen the look of desire unmasked on his face.

  His gaze became colder. “So you are ready,” he said. “A shame.”

  Sarra’s heart thumped wildly as he seized her arm and led her out of the suite, into the hall. She didn’t care where he was taking her, oblivious to everything but her very worst fear. If he should try to bed her …

  He passed before a large ornate door and it opened, assaulting the quiet with the deafening din of the soundproofed room. He smiled quite wickedly before he guided her into the chaos. Her eyes widened. It was like she walked into fire but she didn’t feel the pain.

  The huge and oval auditorium glowed with a rosy color, the tint emanating from the thin, crimson light-pipes that circled up high near the ceiling. She tilted her head back and discovered that there wasn’t a ceiling, there was a dome, and the vast orb was open, showing the stars beyond. Beneath the night sky, a laser show flashed to the rhythm of the thundering music that came from a hidden sound system—the song by Asaggar, one of her favorite Adrielian artists. As she stared up in awe at the dancing kaleidoscope of colors—symmetrical, three-dimensional holograms that seemed to want to reach down and touch her—she felt dizzy and dropped her gaze to see where she stepped.

  The floor shone like a polished, pink mirror. Real candles, set about on pedestals, flamed fluidly, their scent of exotic spices intoxicating to her nose. Sparkling strands of mirrors cascaded like waterfalls down the round wall, partially obscured by the sheer white curtains, screens that circled about the entire room. People were everywhere behind them. Boisterous men, lounging upon luxurious cushions, toping spirits like this was their last day to live, and women, dressed in costumes similar to hers, enticing their guests with their savvy ways and painted lips.

  Sarra had heard of such places, but never in her life had she seen one. This was a pleasure palace. A whorehouse. The Princess Royal of Adriel was being held prisoner in a Myrrhian whorehouse!

  Indignant, she pushed off Nicks’ assisting hand. Suddenly, she caught a glimpse of Darius, wearing an ebony turban and tunic, coming out from behind a curtain. Alarm was on the panderer’s face but he nonchalantly used a quick shake of his head to point behind him, to communicate with Raine. She then was ushered quickly across the floor in the opposite direction of Darius. He brought her behind a white curtain and she gasped when he pushed her down onto a cushion. He straddled her, slapping his palm over the veil on her lips.

  Stunned, she stared up at his green eyes that bored fiercely into hers, giving her a warning.

  If he feared that she would scream, help must be near! From the corner of her eye she saw Darius talking with two Caucasian men who were now standing out in the open. Although they were hazy through the transparent screen beside her, it was evident that the duo was not loyal to the Revolutionaries.

  She squirmed to free herself but the press of his wide breast pinned her down. She attempted to bite, but his hand simply tightened over her lips. As she tried to make the men notice her, she realized that even if they would look her way, they couldn’t see her famous face behind the curtain. It would seem like she was just another whore locked with a man in a moment of passion!

  Raine was eager to play the role. He ripped her veil away and kissed her …

  Sarra’s surprised cry became lost in her throat. His firm lips took hers, his hot tongue brutally assaulting hers. She fought against the onslaught, hitting on his back … and he took her abuse, his tongue becoming gentler, drawing her into a comfortable passion, into his submission. Pleasure such as she had never known spread throughout her, a warm tingling in her breasts and a fiery aching within her loins. Her hands came to rest limply on his back. Her tongue no longer evaded his—she explored him, marveling of his mesmerizing presence, of the brilliant lights that flashed upon her eyelids …

  His hand glided down to her hip. Boldly, he thrust his loins into the delicate place between her thighs. Their garments hindered him, but she knew the threat of his firmness, the heat of her desire …

  With a groan of frustration, he reluctantly drew away. She was breathless, unable to recover, lost in her emotion …

  She realized that the music had quit and the many voices mingled. Darius’ voice was the loudest.

  “My friend, have you lost your sense?”

  Her eyes flew open. Darius loomed above them, frowning down and giving Nicks’ back a swat.

  Embarrassed, she
pushed weakly against Raine’s muscular shoulders, and he carefully moved off her, sitting up with some difficulty. An impulse to run struck her, and he caught her arm. She sat back on the cushions. The two men who could have rescued her were certainly gone.

  Nicks released her, reasonably sure of her submission.

  Darius raised an eyebrow, angrily. “Well, Raine?” he accused. “Why did you bring her out here? It took some fast persuasion to get two of my best Adrielian clients out of here—if they would have seen her! They’ll be occupied with the women I gave them, but now I’ve had to lock the doors. If they come back and get suspicious … ”

  “It’s nothing that an M-5 won’t solve,” Raine assured.

  “Do you live for danger? This is not a game! She’s not a toy that you can play with!” he scolded, but secretly could understand what had possessed the man to molest her. He couldn’t recall ever seeing such a temptress, all ablaze in that sexual outfit.

  “The princess was bored,” Raine finally explained.

  “My friend, you will be the death of us all.”

  As if on cue a chant began to stir around the auditorium. “Revolution! Revolution!” came the zealous cries.

  Sarra swallowed, fearfully. This place was swarming with Revolutionaries! Darius hurried off, no doubt to see if all the doors were locked. This was now the revolutionists’ private den where they could be at ease. Play, they did—pounding their fists on the floor-tables, hooting from their bellows, recklessly firing a few M-5’s up into the air just to see the blue-green lightning. The cheers were reaching a frenzied pitch. All these men wanted to destroy Adriel’s sovereignty and she was next to the Throne—and at their mercy!

  But, what alarmed her the most, was her own self. Her cheeks still burned, the effects of his kiss still raising havoc within her. She’d never known such a sensation as he had given to her, this disturbing upset of her body and soul …

  Darius and Cronala came to sprawl out on the cushions nearby Nicks. The woman gave her a pointed sneer, but she really didn’t care. She glanced up as a fair-skinned barmaid, clad only in a seductive long and pink veil, placed four glasses down on the low table. To ease the tightness within her throat, Sarra took a sip from hers. She nearly spit it back. She disliked tamfonite, the blue Kalcoonian liquor that was pleasingly mild to the Kalcoons but strong and potent to a Human palate. She mustered up her courage and took a deep drink, half-hoping to become intoxicated so she might be able to find some humor in her situation.

  At the far side of the auditorium, a group of musicians took up their instruments and began playing a sultry tune. The curtains lifted slowly, giving the guests a clear view of the live entertainment. An Arab woman, dressed in a blue harem gown, danced her way out onto the center of the floor.

  Nicks chuckled. “You’ll love this, Princess,” he teased.

  Sarra stiffened while he pulled her down beside him onto the downy pillow, forcing her to lie on her waist. His hand lingered on her back, taking her breath, him caressing her familiarly—like they had been lovers for years!

  Her eyes widened when more dancers glided out onto the floor. Hoots and lewd comments rang out from everywhere while the women began to take off their vibrant and slinky costumes. Her face grew even hotter. She dropped her gaze to her hands—she didn’t want to see it. She sensed the green eyes intent upon her and supposed that he had seen the show before, her embarrassment giving him more pleasure.

  When the cheering became even louder, she could only guess what was happening. After what seemed an eternity, the music quit on a crescendo. Applause thundered. She sighed shakily, relieved that the show was over.

  “She’s here! It’s the princess! That’s her!”

  Sarra turned to see two men clambering down onto the cushions nearby her. Nicks sat up, and she was free to sit up, cross-legged beside him. On each of the men’s scruffy faces was the stupid and blank expression of a drunkard nearing intoxication.

  “She’s beautiful!” one exclaimed. “Say, Nicks! Why didn’t you tell us you were holding her here? Everyone thought that you’d keep her on Kan, or somewhere.”

  “The fewer who knew, the safer it would be for all of us, Barnum,” Raine replied. “But I see no harm now in letting the others see the prize we all have worked for.”

  Sarra gasped softly, offended. But, as the drunken man reached out for her, she shrank against Nicks—of all people—to avoid the hand. A masculine crowd was beginning to form around them. Everywhere in the sea of eyes there was lewdness and disrespect.

  “She’s gorgeous!” a sot cried out. “I want to see her! Dance for us, will you, Princess?”

  Sarra paled.

  “Yes!” another one cried.

  A chant began to rise …

  “Dance! Dance!” came the chorus.

  “Can we, Nicks?” one asked hopefully.

  Sarra whirled to see him shrugging in his indifference.

  “I will not!” she protested indignantly.

  It took two men to get her onto her feet.

  Darius’ eyes followed the princess as she was dragged onto the floor—the inebriated men were throwing caution to the wind, heedless of the consequences if she should come to grace her throne. “Ahhh, no, no, no,” he grunted, hiding his face behind his large palms. He snapped up his head and motioned at his woman, for her to give him time alone with Raine.

  Cronala’s brown eyes were lit with vengeful satisfaction while she watched the men humiliate the high and mighty princess, them laughing as they passed the screeching girl back and forth into their sweaty embraces. However, when she saw Darius’ hand that dismissed her, with a huff she obeyed her man and left.

  Darius looked at Raine levelly. “You don’t mind that your head will be King Ellis’ trophy, my friend?”

  The defiant green eyes gave his answer; he was already prize game.

  Darius feared that the men would be allowed to do more than amuse themselves with her. Clearly, Raine wanted them to degrade her since he despised her royal status. Although this Revolutionary leader had every right to, the princess was not just a symbol—she was made of flesh and blood! He must talk some sense into him! “Ahhh, but she so surely is still an innocent! You cannot let them—”

  “She is my prisoner, isn’t she?” he replied coldly.

  “She is the Princess Royal of Adriel!”

  Raine shrugged. “All the more reason to give her a taste of the common life.”

  An agitated Darius tapped his rings rhythmically on the table until he came up with a new approach. “What you did to her on this bed here—what was that? I have seen it in your eyes. You do have feeling for her, even if it is only your lust. If you can’t find it in that icy heart of yours, find it in your soul—protect her!”

  For a moment the anger lashed out on Raine’s face, and then it was gone. “You forget, friend,” he said dryly. “She is the enemy. She will be treated as one.”

  “She is a frightened girl!”

  “Frightened?” Raine asked, chuckling as he motioned at her.

  Darius discovered that she was quite capable of bravery. She had struck her fist into a man’s face and knocked him down against his companions. All but the injured one roared from their bellows with laughter.

  He turned to see the consideration of praise for her in Raine’s arched eyebrow. “But, she is only one against them all! You won’t let them—”

  “Relax, Darius. In order for the plan to work, she must be unharmed when we return her to her father. We’re not savages. I won’t let them rape her. But, there’s no reason why we can’t have a little clean fun, is there?”

  Darius sighed deeply, knowing that he could do nothing. “I can’t watch. Come, Cronala.”

  The woman was instantly by his side.

  Sarra was appalled when she saw Darius and Cronala leaving—the man was her only possible protection! She glanced at Nicks, hoping somehow to find help there, and saw him watching her with a malicious smile. She began to whimp
er, choking on her fear while the men pressed about her, leering at her. Her resistance had kept them entertained, but now they wanted more—they were demanding that she dance. Her temples pounded, making her vision reel. She was trapped—there was no way out … no way out …

  From somewhere deep within her core, Sarra found the challenge. Determination swept through her, taking away her panic. She would triumph! She’d not only conquer her enemies, she would humiliate them!

  A few men had laid their M-5s carelessly out on the tables. She would get her hands on one and use it on the rebels to escape …

  Confidently, she raised her hand and waited until the men were silent. “Now, how am I to dance with all of you on my floor?” she scolded, saucily.

  They scrambled back to their pillows, eager for the performance.

  Sarra nodded at the bemused musicians, and they finally came together to agree on one passionate tune. Although her heart drummed within her, she kicked off her slippers and began to move in a slow, easy motion. She had always loved to dance and was quite accomplished at her hobby, but never had she performed for anyone but her shy self—certainly not for scores of lusty men! She dared not look at Nicks, feeling the weight of his intense stare. As she swayed and twirled about her large oval stage, she caught glimpses of the envy on female faces and the appreciation in manly eyes. Repelled, she tightened, faltering in her rhythm. She desperately needed something to bring sensuality into her limbs. Knowing nothing but her innocence, she recalled Tolly Kay’s hologram, the model of herself wearing the black lingerie, and used the image to bring the wantonness to her lips. Recklessness rushed through her, freeing her, making her fluent again as she surrendered to the song …

  As Raine watched, his mien became colder, though his blood, warmer. He was unable to look away. She was casting a spell that touched all the men, stealing their wills with her sorcery. Except for the music, the room was silent, her audience too mesmerized for comment and not wanting to blink and miss even one of her exquisite movements. The men were having trouble keeping their heads, wanting to rush out and grab her—and their leader was no exception.