All the King's Men (6 page)

She couldn’t see Kirel. It was better this way, she told
herself. The longer the Guardians fucked her, the more difficult she found it
to remember why she fought them. Her pussy squeezed down on the man’s shaft,
welcoming each thrust in eager delight. Her ass burned with painful rapture,
uncurling a need from deep inside her she hadn’t been aware of until that
moment.

The Guardians’ motions grew even more fevered. Each
well-placed thrust seemed to reach inside her and nudge the dark, tender places
in her body, drawing out streams of sensation to pour through her.

Ecstasy flooded her thoughts. It mingled with the grief and
aching loneliness that had perpetually taken residence within her since the
king’s men had taken Kirel. It banished the hurt and anger and coiled around
her, tantalizing in its hunger.

Energy poured through her. One of the men—she didn’t know
who, didn’t care—reached down to touch her clit. That was all it took. The
world exploded in a million pieces of light. Her body seemed to float on a
cloud of euphoria even as her inner walls spasmed. Pure bliss crept into every
crevice, every inch of flesh, pulling her apart, shattering her heart.

For a moment, suspended in the midst of eternity, she felt
none of the aching agony that had become her constant companion.

Nelina’s eyes flew open.

Her hips continued to grind down of their own accord,
bearing her body into the mattress. Pulsing with hungry need, her pussy rode
the last cresting waves of her climax. Frantically, she ground her mound down
into the sheets, eager for the feel of two cocks embedded deep in her body.

The pillow that cradled her cheek was wet with salty tears.
She could taste them in the back of her throat.

She closed her eyes and held her breath, waiting for the
nightmare to dissipate.

A cold sweat drenched her skin. She lay still for a long
time, waiting for strength to return to her limbs. Then, gritting her teeth,
she swung her legs over the side of the bed.

The floor was cold beneath her bare feet. Outside, night had
fallen and the room was bathed in tri-colored light from the fat moons that
hung just outside her window.

Neglecting to light a lamp, she made her way to the
washbasin she’d set out in a corner of the room earlier that afternoon. She’d
intended to lie down for only a few minutes after the last of the lunch patrons
had left the inn, but the deluge of perverse fantasies had obviously had other
plans.

She stripped out of her damp clothes and tossed them in a
wicker basket then used a soft washcloth to wipe off the sweat and the sticky
mess between her thighs. The water was cold. She shivered as a chill ran down
her spine.

Apprehension slithered in her veins. She felt edgy and
jumpy, as though unseen eyes bore into her from between the spaces in the wood
planks of her walls.

“Calm yourself,” Nelina murmured, sliding the washcloth over
her stomach. She pressed it to her cunt and swore softly when the swollen flesh
of her folds answered the pressure with a low, throbbing ache.

Gods, it really felt as though she’d been thoroughly fucked.
Even her anus felt tender when she nudged it with her fingertip. Swallowing
hard, she pulled her hand away.

Even when it unfolded as it normally did, the dream unnerved
her. A few days would mark eight years since Kirel had been snatched from her,
yet thinking about that night never failed to perturb her.

Her best friend Reah said it was her own fault she had these
dreams. If she’d moved on, taken another lover, she wouldn’t be waking up in
the middle of the night with the last vestiges of a terrifying nightmare
clawing at her skull.

Perhaps she was right, Nelina acknowledged to herself. But
how could she? Men didn’t simply disappear off the face of the planet. Aris
might be sprawling but only a small part of the planet was inhabitable, which
severely limited the possible places where Kirel could have been taken.

Besides, she knew exactly who’d done this to him, for all
the good it did her. No one believed her when she told them she’d seen Kirel’s
kidnappers and identified them as the king’s men. People she’d known her entire
life tried to convince her she’d taken a nasty hit to the head and had imagined
things.

All right, so she
had
taken a hit to the head. But
she still knew better. For the past eight years, she hadn’t given up hope that
one day she’d find the only man she’d ever loved.

Having been met with derision and scorn when she’d
approached residents of Waldemar Castle for help directly, she’d tried to make
headway in any way she could. Her family’s inn, Shadow’s Fortune, had gone to
her when her mother had passed away two years earlier. Taking over as the new
proprietress of the popular establishment had given her the perfect opportunity
to use her keen senses to listen for any mention of the king’s men abusing
their power.

People gossiped, especially when ale and wine were
plentiful. And yet even after all these years, she’d turned up nothing.
Recently, she’d begun growing bolder in her pursuit of the truth. Whenever
someone who had dealings at the royal castle stepped through the door of her
inn, she made sure to ask them if they knew anything of a messenger named
Kirel. Each time she asked though, the response was the same. Blank stares and
clueless shrugs.

With a sigh, she tossed the cloth to hang on the edge of the
washbasin. After drying herself off, she pulled on a long green skirt and a
low-cut, lace-trimmed blouse. A glimpse of cleavage loosened men’s tongues as
well as a pitcher of ale—sometimes even better.

She slipped her feet into a pair of comfortable shoes,
gathered her long, brown hair in a loose bun and prepared to face the evening
crowd. Her face felt flushed and her body still tingled at the memory of those
men’s hands on her.

“Only a dream,” she reminded herself. “Nothing to worry
about.”

Closing the door behind her, she slipped out into the
hallway and then walked past several closed doors to reach the top of the
stairs that led to the common area.

The smell of spiced stew permeated the air, tickling her
nostrils as she descended. Her gaze swept over the assembled crowd, pausing to
scan for newcomers. Although Shadow’s Fortune was primarily a lodging
establishment, over the years the common dining room had become more popular
than the tavern across the street. People stopped in after a long day to
stretch their feet, eat a homemade meal and indulge in boisterous conversation.
Drink and company were both plentiful and soon Shadow’s Fortune had acquired a
reputation Nelina had done nothing to dispel.

Business was brisk and the crowd kept her busy. Besides,
every newcomer who stepped over the threshold represented another opportunity
for her to learn something of Kirel. She couldn’t ask for more than that.

Tonight, the crowd was sparse. Although Aris saw its share
of tourists who came to gawk at the only planet in the quadrant whose
inhabitants took little advantage of modern technology, the inn wasn’t as busy
this late in the season. The weather had turned cold and the red dust that
constantly swirled through the planet’s atmosphere could be whipped up into a
potent whirl in the blink of an eye.

Native Arisians prepared for the capricious dry weather by
wearing veils, masks or shrouds that covered their faces. Many also shielded
their eyes with protective lenses or, as in the case of the King’s Guardians,
hoods that could be tugged forward to protect their eyes. Travelers who weren’t
prudent enough to anticipate the effects of sudden dust storms could suffer
blindness or worse.

Nelina spotted Reah setting out a meal in front of two
women. As she approached the table, Nelina recognized them as the seamstresses
who owned a shop not far from the inn. The heavy blonde braid coiled at Reah’s
neck bobbed up and down as she gestured wildly with her hands. A faint tinge of
color tinted her pale cheeks.

Nelina paused at the edge of the table, not wanting to
interrupt the obviously heated discussion.

“I heard Simon from the Black Dog Tavern say he thought a
messenger had already been sent down from the castle with the news,” Reah said
excitedly. “Do you think it’ll be much longer until he reaches us?”

Nelina’s stomach churned. To this day, her heart skipped a
beat every time a messenger headed this way. As impossible as it seemed, she
still hoped to see Kirel come through the door, just as he had all those years
ago.

He’d come out of nowhere with a missive from the castle.
Within a few short weeks, he’d swept her off her feet and thrown her into a
whirlwind of raw, savage passion from which she still hadn’t recovered.

At this rate, she probably never would.

Nelina swallowed hard and jerked her gaze to the cheerful
blaze that crackled in the hearth set against the left wall of the room. Across
from it, a dozen low barstools had been placed in front of a wooden bar. A
couple of tall goblets and a squat bottle of wine sat between two young men
wearing travel-stained cloaks. Nelina made a mental note to serve them tonight.
She didn’t recognize them immediately, but they didn’t look like off-worlders
either. With any luck, they might know something of the king’s dealings in this
area.

“Well?” Rhea elbowed Nelina in the ribs. “Wouldn’t it be
wonderful?”

Nelina shook her head and tried to focus on the
conversation. “What would?”

“Being chosen queen!”

Nelina groaned. “Why would you say such a thing?”

The red-headed seamstress paled. Her hand fluttered to the
slope of her breasts. “You haven’t heard? The Tradition has finally blessed
King Shivar with a mate. After all these years, it looks like an heir may be in
the cards for our lonesome king after all.”

“I hope it’s you then,” Nelina said, not bothering to hide
her sarcasm. The seamstress was well past the age of childbearing but she still
beamed like a schoolgirl, her eyes lighting up at the possibility.

“You think it could be?”

Nelina threw her hands in the air. “Who cares? Honestly! So
much fuss over who gets to fuck whom.”

Before the women could answer, Nelina stormed away from
their table. Gods, people were dense. Why was she the only one who understood
that the king abused his power and intruded upon his citizens’ private lives?

Nelina hadn’t known Kirel long, but she was willing to bet
her life on the fact that he hadn’t done anything to deserve being kidnapped,
tortured and who knew what else. She’d tried to come up with myriad possible
reasons that might explain why the king would want him. In the end, she’d
settled on the lingering suspicion that Kirel must have overhead something on
one of his trips to the castle. As a royal messenger, he was often tasked with
carrying important announcements back and forth.

That was the only possible explanation. The king had felt
threatened by Kirel’s knowledge and he’d sent his men to deal with him as
quickly and quietly as possible.

Anger coiled in her gut. Worst of all, the king would get
away with his crime because everyone refused to listen to reason.

The chime above the doorway rang through the room,
announcing a new arrival. The whoosh of a windstorm hissed through the open
door. A hush settled over the tables and Nelina turned her head to catch a
glimpse of the new guest.

Before she could stop it, a gasp slipped from her lips. Her
hand flew up to cover her mouth but by then it was too late. She watched in
silent horror as time slowed to a crawl.

Three men dressed in traditional
skellas
stood in the
doorway of the inn. Their faces were covered by the black masks and hoods that
were part of the garment. The uniforms revealed strong bodies corded with
muscles. Before she could stop it, her gaze darted over their groins. All three
sported unmistakable bulges but the middle Guardian’s erection seemed even more
potent than the others.

Oh Gods. It’s happening. Just like in the dream.

She backed up a step then another until her upper thighs
slammed into the edge of a table. “What is it you want?”

The three men advanced into the inn. The door slammed behind
them, shutting out the echo of the wind and plunging the room into awed
silence.

As Nelina struggled to breathe, one of the men approached
her. To her shock, he sank to one knee in front of her and lifted his head. She
could make out impossibly dark eyes between the ribbon of space in his mask.
The familiar glimmer in their depths made her heart tumble in her chest.

She squinted, but other than those piercing eyes, she
couldn’t tell much about him.

“King Shivar Waldemar requests the pleasure of your
company.”

There was something familiar about the rich timbre of his
voice but the only explanation her mind could conjure made little sense. The
smooth inflection in his tone was similar to the one she’d often heard in
Kirel’s speech but that was beyond absurd.

Besides, everyone reminded her of Kirel these days. He was
constantly on her mind, a ghostly presence that lingered just out of reach. She
couldn’t serve a male patron at the inn without thinking that the shadow of his
stubble looked familiar or that he glanced at her with the same hungry
black-eyed gaze as her former lover.

Believing even for a moment that this dark stranger was the
same man for whom she’d frantically searched during the past eight years could
only be a desperate hope borne of a fevered mind.

Nelina smiled sweetly, though her pulse pounded in her
temples. “Tell your king he can go fuck himself.”

An audible gasp echoed through the room. Reah rushed to her
side and clutched Nelina’s hand. “Have you lost your mind?” she hissed out
between clenched teeth.

The Guardian seemed nonplussed. He lifted a shoulder in an
elegant shrug but made no move to rise. “I’d hoped you’d come along willingly,
but I have orders to bring you with me by any means necessary.” He hesitated
for only a moment before pulling down his mask and adding, “My queen.”