Desert of the Damned (9 page)

“If you don’t collect enough chi at the end of this moon cycle, then I’ll make you my slave, or I may choose an abrupt ending to your immortality. The Drones are needed to maintain the balance on Anartia but I can find others to replace those who do not yield what is needed.”

Killing mortals was looking like a reasonable alternative. “Don’t worry, Gwyllain, I’ll fulfill my service in time. But aren’t you wasting my chi now, or your chi, by holding me here? I can think of something more interesting we could be doing.” He reached around and slid his hand to her pussy. She was wearing the dress today. The silky material allowed him to feel every fold of her mound. He rubbed at her slit. She sucked in a breath and moaned her approval.

Gwyllain let go of his neck and wrapped her arm around his waist, pulling him away from the ledge. “Tell me why you don’t just kill that mortal woman and go on to the next one?”

“Amy has a substantial amount of chi and as long as I don’t complete the sex act, I can absorb that energy and transmit it to your world. The more frustrated she gets that I don’t make love to her the more chi she gives off.”

Gwyllain sighed, annoyed but somewhat satisfied with his explanation. “So the survival of my world is just a sexual game for you?” Her voice became shrill and her body pressed him toward the edge again.

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Straightening, Dante grabbed her arm. If she was foolish enough to push him over the edge, as powerful as she was, she couldn’t stop him from taking her over with him.

Twisting around, he crushed his broad chest against her breasts and ground his hips into her, knowing his erect cock prodded her pussy. “Fuck you, Gwyllain. I’m doing my duty. My immortality depends on the survival of your fucking fragmented world. I find killing humans offensive. If I can acquire the needed chi a different way, I’ll do it. And if I run out of time, I’ll resort to killing. Either way your world will be safe.” He preferred to collect his offering of chi through human sexual interactions alone.

Killing animals was an alternative. His shapeshifting powers enabled him to stalk and capture animals for chi, also to travel quickly and inconspicuously. The Native American culture and mythology always fascinated him, especially the Coyote Trickster myth. Gwyllain said Tarik could incorporate a form during the merging. Many Drones used other forms as a disguise.

While holding on to one of her arms, Dante slowly trailed his other hand just beneath her breast and hoped she didn’t notice he was shaking. Partly from anger and partly from nerves at standing three hundred feet above jagged rocks. But he willed himself to give her an admiring gaze. Seducing her was a better idea than challenging her, especially at the moment.

Gwyllain’s back arched, her head tilted up, allowing her straight black hair to stream behind her in the wind. Her eyes glowed a midnight blue with inhuman intensity. The blue dress she wore matched her eyes and showed the details of her areolas and taut nipples. The breeze had spread the hip-high slit, revealing most of her long legs, the small dark triangle of hair between her legs. The image of Gwyllain in her dress reminded Dante of a snake shedding its skin.

Stroking his chest, she smiled wickedly. The tip of her tongue darted out and she licked her upper lip. She nodded. “Of course. You have not failed me in over one hundred fifty years. I see no reason for you not to be faithful this cycle.”

Reaching up, he palmed her breast with his other hand while he continued to grind his cock between her legs. Her body quivered beneath his touch. Sucking in a breath, she watched him with heavy-lidded eyes. Yes, he had her in his power now, for however brief this moment would be.

She studied him a long moment, then as she glanced around her face hardened.

“Look at my world.” She raised her hand, swinging her arm out. “I have barely seen the sun, quakes have shaken the ground, fissures have formed. My home has aged too.”

Her voice cracked. Beneath their feet the ground rumbled and heaved. She gripped Dante’s arms, leaning into him as if for protection.

In reflex to comfort a woman in distress, Dante slid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “Don’t worry. I have an offering now.” He squeezed her breasts and waited to see her eyes soften, then asked, “Why was I summoned early to be a Drone?” He wondered if he dared be so bold. “Why is Anartia in such a state?”

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She rested her palms on his chest, eyes downcast. “If I lose one of my Drones…”

She stopped, then began again. “Tarik is working on a project to free Anartia and he needs more bio-energy.” As if she realized she let him see too much of her vulnerable side, she jerked out of his embrace. Dante pulled her back into his arms. At first she resisted his attentions, then finally responded, melting into him. Her hands slid up his back.

“Did something happen to one of the Drones?” Dante asked. Could Tarik’s jealousy move him to kill the very subjects that kept Anartia intact?

Anger flared in her eyes. “A Drone didn’t make his offering in time. I dealt with him.”

Dante swallowed. “Why didn’t you make him Throng? Couldn’t you use another servant?”

She glared at him, ignoring his question. “You have an offering.” Her hand slipped down to his cock, wrapping her hand around its engorged length. “It’s time we entered my temple.”

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Chapter Six

Gwyllain, in her all-business mode, was ignoring his question. And her business was sex, hot and intense, addicting and bewitching, its sole purpose to fuel and maintain her realm.

She motioned for Dante to follow on an angle away from the ocean. “Let’s get out of this weather and find comfort in my temple.” The open field of coarse sea grass sloped up to a wide knoll. At the top was a single-story structure with designs similar to the Greek Parthenon with its Doric marble columns evenly spaced around the entire building.

Dante barely managed to suppress his look of shock. The temple had lost its once-pristine luminescence. The stones now appeared gray and crumbling. Although completely intact, the temple looked more like the ruins of the Greek Parthenon. No wonder Gwyllain was pissed. Another quake rumbled like an underground wave. The structure vibrated, sending bits of dust floating to the ground.

“See, see what has become of my beautiful temple? Without the bounty of my chi, my temple and my realm suffer. Hurry, Dante, inside.” She grasped his hand as large raindrops pelted the dry stone steps, flattening her dark hair and cooling his wind-burned skin. They climbed the steps and passed through the massive colonnade.

The sound of the rain pummeled the roof. Two women servants in white robes scurried to her side, awaiting orders. Gwyllain ordered them to bring dry towels, clothing, food and wine. Turning to Dante, she smiled and welcomed him into the main room. A dozen young women lounged around the pool, some completely naked, others dressed in white tunics. They barely gave him a glance when he entered. The slave women were to serve Gwyllain and Tarik, no others.

He caught a whiff of smoky copal from an incense burner and lemon oil from the polished carved wood furniture. Dozens of enormous pillows were scattered on the floor around a fireplace at one side of the room. On the opposite side, brocade lounges, chairs and tables created a cozy seating area. In the center of the room was a colossal bath, large enough for twenty or more. The brief time on Gwyllain’s world did not allow him opportunity to meet the slaves or other Drones but he suspected there were other Drones giving the mistress her offering.

Surrounding the main room were many smaller Drone and servant rooms. How many people did she need to maintain her dimension? When she lost one or two what were the consequences to her realm? How many losses before Anartia would collapse?

Or would she find new subjects to be her immortal slaves and workers?

Gwyllain slithered up to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and brushing her lips over his. “Would you like to bathe or eat first?”

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Dante felt the throb in his groin. No man could resist Gwyllain. His fingers tangled in her damp hair, holding her head back as his gaze held hers and his other hand stroked her cheek, her lips, then moved down between her breasts.

The price of immortality was to pay his debt with chi energy, then live on the Earth plane for another one hundred years as a human.

“When are you going to tell me where Reilly is?” Dante asked. He didn’t know when he’d have another chance to ask her. Once his cycle with Gwyllain was over, he wouldn’t see her for another hundred years. During the California Gold Rush in the 1850s, while Dante lay dying in the desert, Gwyllain sent a Drone to bring him to Anartia. Gwyllain had promised him immortality and revenge, but on her terms. A wealthy prospector, John Reilly, had stolen his wife, taken his gold claim and arranged for Dante’s murder. Apparently, Gwyllain thought Dante and Reilly would make worthy Drones.

“When I don’t have any use for him.” She picked up a glass of wine that the servant girl had poured and left on the stone table. Slowly she took a sip. “If a Drone doesn’t acquire the chi I need or if I grow tired of his attentions, I will…replace him.”

“It’s been over a hundred and fifty years.” Dante tightened his fists. “I want my revenge.”

“You’ll get your revenge, in time.” She peered at him seductively over the top of her goblet. “Bath or food?”

Dante looked away and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. What could he do? The Drones received new identities periodically. He didn’t know John Reilly’s name, where he lived or what he looked like now. How could he find him?

“You didn’t answer me,” she said, then gasped as his hand skimmed over her breast and found the fastening under her arm. The dress dropped at her feet.

“Shall we skip the bath and food and just enter your chamber?” He stroked her hair.

She drew lazy circles on his chest. “What’s the rush?”

He grabbed her hand and gently pushed her away.

A shadow passed over her face. Her eyes flared for a moment then cooled. Her lips pursed together as if he’d hurt her feelings. “Aren’t you pleased to see me, Dante? Or are you in that much of a hurry to get back to your world?”

He groaned inwardly. Share his true thoughts with a demoness, not a good plan.

He walked to the edge of the pool and examined a collection of vials and crystal pitchers. He uncorked one and poured a drop in his hand and inhaled the spicy wood scent that reminded him of a pine forest in autumn. Massage oil. He re-corked the bottle and held it up. “Massage?”

She glared at him and didn’t answer. Actually, he had something else in mind. It was time he held the reins for a while, for a change. “Your realm is a mess. Looks like the energy drain is extensive. Maybe we shouldn’t wait.” As she stepped out of the 51

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dress, his gaze moved down her body, over her breasts, which were full and teardrop shaped. The erect points of her nipples were a deep bronze, her skin a shimmery olive tan. Dante focused on the trim triangle of dark hair at the juncture of her legs. A glint of gold sparkled from her clit ring—the only piece of jewelry she wore.

She regarded him with a smoldering look. “Are you ready to replenish Anartia?”

Her voice was a seductive lure.

“In a moment. I’m enjoying the view.” He wanted to make her ache for him. Bring her down a few steps and she would be more amiable.

She huffed her impatience, then slid her hands over her breasts, down her belly, between her legs, then back up to her breasts. “Don’t take too long. You know how restless I am.” Her tone was edgy.

“And you know how I don’t like to be ordered,” Dante snapped.

A flicker of anger passed over Gwyllain’s face. “My world, my rules.”

He spun around and started for the entrance. Gwyllain gasped, then laughed. “You can’t leave.” She ran after him. “Dante, wait.”

He knew he wouldn’t get far if she sent her guards after him. He wanted her to think he was angry enough to fight her guards. Encounters with Gwyllain were exercises of will and psychology.

Before he reached the doorway, Gwyllain caught up to him and placed a hand on his arm. “Dante, I forget how much you resent—”

Then he made his move. He grasped her wrists and pinned her against one of the giant marble columns, her arms raised above her head. His hard chest crushed her breasts as he lowered his mouth over hers in a brutal and heated kiss.

She groaned and one leg hooked around his thigh to draw him closer. Crossing her wrists, he held them with one hand. His other hand dropped between her legs and a finger thrust inside her channel. Using his thumb, he flicked the ring pierced through her hood. The tiny bud beneath it swelled. She drew in a breath and stood up on her toes.

“I think I’m ready now.” He chuckled as he tugged at her earlobe with his lips.

“Bastard,” she said, with a smile. “You take much risk.”

Dante swept her off her feet and strode down the few steps into the steaming bath.

She squealed, which brought out three of her muscled guards in white tunics carrying swords. Gwyllain waved her hand in dismissal. “Mistress?” they shouted.

“It’s all right. You may go.” The men retreated, disappearing behind the columns.

As Dante stepped deeper into the water, a rumble vibrated underground, sending a tremble through the columns and a seismic wave over the surface of the water.

“Maybe we should skip the pleasantries and get down to business,” he said.

She groaned and looked longingly at one side of the Roman tub where her servants had placed thick white towels, bowls of fruit and cheese. An opened bottle of wine and two glasses stood on a small stone platform. Another rumble passed though the hall 52

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and Gwyllain gripped his shoulders. “Maybe you’re right. I can take from you what I need and we can enjoy the bath and eat later.” Her mouth widened in a sensuous smile.