Wicked Empress: The Onic Empire, Book 4 (37 page)

“Give to me, Drahka,” Viltori pleaded, gripping his shoulders. “That will take the pain away for a while.” His tormented eyes locked upon him. “And you and I cannot make a child.”

A part of Drahka’s heart broke then because it seemed that once they had resolved one issue, another emerged, and now yet another still. How ironic that in addition to the debt of the empire, the three of them had another debt due, one that they must pay with the product of their love. Regardless of all the problems, Drahka was determined to have what he’d always longed for: a home. And people who accepted him for who he was. People who loved him just as he was. People whose only wish was for him to be happy, as that was his only wish for them. At the moment, his chosen were miserable. Now he understood Viltori’s torment, and he was bound and determined to understand Bithia’s.

Against him, Viltori clung, no longer speaking, no longer crying, just holding on with an anxious grip. Soothing him with nonsensical words, Drahka wrapped his arm around his waist and together they walked to the empress suite. Inside, the lights were subdued. Drahka heard water splashing in the bathing unit. Tenderly he undressed and placed Viltori into bed. Viltori turned into the pillow, seeking the blessed release of sleep.

Drahka rubbed Viltori’s back in small circles, offering comfort even though inside he was agitated. He wanted to move, to run, to lift massive trees and cut them apart, something, anything physical. He knew where the training rooms were, but he didn’t think it wise to go this late, not when there was a party going on. From what he’d observed, the elite overindulged to deliberately lower their inhibitions so they could sneak off to engage in sexual acts they would never perform sober. In the morning, everyone conveniently forgot the activities of the night before. Drahka found such practices pathetic. Twice this night he could have taken advantage of Viltori’s state and yet he did not because he loved him too much to use him in such a way.

The water stopped and after a moment Bithia emerged, nude, her black hair in wonderful disarray, her heavy breasts swaying with softly peaked nipples. He rose, ready to embrace her, but her eyes stopped him. Red-rimmed, narrowed, hurt, her gaze forced him to stand where he was and wait for her to speak.

For a long time she stood looking at him, then at Viltori in the bed, then up to the glass ceiling as if trying desperately to hold back her tears. She was successful when she gritted her teeth and clenched her fists.

“I will have you returned to Oughun.”

Drahka felt as if she’d slapped him. After everything they’d been through to be together, she was throwing it all away, and he didn’t even know why. He was worn out after dealing with Viltori, but now he had to soothe Bithia as well. He sighed. Why couldn’t they have more faith? For all their gods and goddesses they seemed to be so distant from any sense of true belief in those they worshiped. Drahka thought that those who came before had set him on a difficult path, but there were always reasons for the trials he bore. They did not make his life difficult to punish him, but to teach him.

“If he wishes, you may take Viltori with you.”

Bithia grabbed a crimson robe. Deliberately she slid her arms within the sleeves, then wrapped the edges across her body, hiding herself from his gaze. She projected a position of strength, but he saw the lie in her shoulders. Gently rounded, not enough for anyone else to notice, her shoulders curled in, making him want to grasp her arms and lift her to stand tall, as she should.

“Don’t you have anything to say?” She didn’t look at him. Instead, she moved over to the table where they ate. With a flick of her finger, she activated the floating blue screen. Her movements were not the fluid grace he was used to. Now she moved much slower, jerking slightly with each extension of her body. Again, only one who knew her well would notice.

Drahka continued to hold his place. Inside he felt molten rock churning, building up pressure, urgently seeking an outlet. He feared if he moved or spoke, that would be the fissure through which his frustration would erupt. Here he stood ready to sacrifice everything to be with his chosen and yet both of them rejected him on the same night and practically with the same breath.

“Do you wish for me to go so you two can be alone?” She glanced over her shoulder at him, then darted her gaze to the bed. “Or did you already fuck him in the hallway?”

From her sharp tone, he surmised she was upset because she thought they’d had sex in the hallway without her. Bithia knew they’d been together, just the two of them, just as Drahka had been alone with her. And Drahka would be fine with Viltori and Bithia alone. On his world, jealousy was an unknown concept, and the emotion had never entered into their relationship, until now. He wondered why. Especially after they’d come so close to having everything. The funding was a serious issue, one that was well over his head, but he had no doubt that Bithia, Enovese, and others could find a way to make Diola profitable.

“There is no problem we cannot solve.” Drahka did not know what else to say. “Viltori drank himself stupid because he believes he must give a child to the gods to compensate for his existence.” Drahka took a deep breath to dampen the heat of the fire within as he toed off his boots and his socks. “You are angry because I have given to Viltori without you. If such bothers you, I will cease, but I did nothing more than comfort him in the hallway.” Feeling confined suddenly by his consort clothing, he popped the tiny buttons of his shirt apart as he spoke. “I do not understand the nature of funding, as you call it, as my tribe did not use such a system. However, you, Enovese and Viltori are the most intelligent people I have yet known. I trust you will find a solution to that issue.”

Once he’d unbuttoned his shirt, he pulled the clinging fabric off his shoulders, letting the garment slide to the floor. Cool air washed across his skin, tightening his nipples, allowing him to take a deep, cleansing breath. What he wouldn’t give to be outside. He considered opening the ceiling, but did not want snow to fall over the sleeping Viltori.

Bithia stopped fiddling with her blue screen. She turned to watch him, one hand on the back of her chair, the other on her hip. As he unfastened his pants, her fingers dug into her waist, as if she strove to hold herself back. His goal was to free himself from constraint, but now he saw another angle to undressing. More deliberately and far more slowly, he worked his clinging pants free from his waist, then shimmied them down his hips. Since he no longer wore the hated
echalle
, he was bare beneath the tight red trousers. His brief stint with Viltori in the hallway left him slightly aroused.

Bithia’s grip tightened to the point he thought she would leave a mark upon herself or the back of her chair. Swallowing hard, she let go of both. From the table she swiped a small object into the palm of her hand. As she watched him, she toyed with what looked like a chunk of black ice. Since the shard didn’t melt in her hand, he knew it wasn’t ice, but something similar, some type of crystal.

“Have you nothing else to say?” He kicked his pants aside. Unbound, unprotected, he stood before her, vulnerable yet proud. Drahka did not understand this art of subterfuge, of hiding behind a mask. He knew only one way to be. Himself. Unadorned. If Bithia and Viltori did not want him just the way he was, he would move on. Leaving them would hurt him deeply, but he’d fallen for them and claimed them because he thought they accepted him utterly. If that was not the case, he had no choice but to go. However, the look in Bithia’s eyes said more than words ever could. She did not want him farther from her than the reach of her arm.

“Will you still want me when I have nothing to offer you beyond myself?” Bithia asked the question while peering intently at the object in her hand.

Drahka raked his gaze from her feet to her face, taking in everything about her in this moment. She was a goddess, and he would take her just as she was. Yet he sensed a deeper meaning beneath her question.

“Are you offering yourself to me?” He took one step in her direction.

Clutching her hands together, protecting the black crystal hidden there, Bithia took a step toward him. “What if I am?”

“I would claim you now just as I did before.” Drahka took another step. He was close enough that he could smell her. Fresh from her bath, soap lightly scented her, but below he smelled her longing, that sweet essence that belonged exclusively to her.

Bithia took another step, bringing their bodies within touching distance. “You would?”

Unable to speak, Drahka nodded, then closed the distance between them. He leaned over, placing his face as close to hers as he could without touching.

Her hand lifted, and he pressed his palm to hers. Contact almost caused their flesh to sizzle. This moment was just as intense as their bonding had been. A reaffirmation of everything he’d given on that day.

“You want me with only what I have now?”

“I do.”

She held out her other palm, showing him the object hidden there. Black, six-sided, slender, about the length of her pinky finger.

“What is it?”

“A memory crystal with proof that my parents did not want me.” Out came what she had suffered this night from Eld’s accusations, his threats and his demands. But what really hurt was the belief that if her parents didn’t want her, no one else ever would, either. Bithia couldn’t be more wrong. Drahka understood, only because he’d had the same misconception. He thought if his tribe did not want him, how could anyone else? Bithia and Viltori proved him wrong. Now, he had to do the same for her.

Placing his hand over hers, Drahka took the crystal and tossed it aside. Clinking merrily, it hit the wall and rolled under the table. If he still had his boots on, he would have crushed it below his heel. “It matters not.”

“Throw away that one and he’ll just make another. And it doesn’t change the truth that I was unwanted. Created in a bottle and birthed by a slave.” She tried to pull away, but he interlaced his fingers with her upturned hand, holding their palms together.

“I want you.”

Her mismatched eyes, so lovely in their uniqueness, met his with vulnerable hope.

“Viltori wants you.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off.

“What does it matter what happened in the past? There is nothing we cannot solve, Bithia. You, like Viltori, must have faith.” Tentatively, he kissed her, keeping his eyes open, watching her keep her eyes open as she echoed the movement of his lips.

Her sigh said everything.

She reached up, cupping his face, tracing her finger over the mark on his cheek. “Do you wish to remove this?”

He had heard her people had such technology, but he knew his answer before she asked. “No. Because what they consider a mark of shame, I now consider a mark of pride. I loved a man. Deeply. In that, I did no wrong.”

Tears shimmered in her eyes. “And your name—”

He cut her off with a kiss before she could finish. “To them it means no name and they used it like the mark to humiliate me. To hear you and Viltori moan and groan my name strips that power from them.” Gently he kissed her again. “I would change nothing.”

He removed her robe with ease. Embracing her, Drahka carried her to the bed, settled her on the opposite side of Viltori, and then climbed between them. Snoring softly, Viltori rolled over, flinging his arm across Drahka’s chest. When he touched Bithia, he sighed and returned to sleep.

Bithia ordered the lights off, and darkness filled the room. As his eyes adjusted, the snow-covered dome above glowed softly.

“But he’ll tell about my birth.” Her whisper was quiet and filled with torment.

Wrapping his arm around her, Drahka pulled her close. “You are the legitimate heir to the throne. None can change that fact.”

“But it’s shameful.”

“How?” He almost wanted to turn the lights back on, but refrained. “You had no control over what he did. How could you? Neither did your parents. Who’s to say what their motives were in keeping you a secret? This man, this Eld, he says one thing, and perhaps your parents even said something to him, but people lie.” Drahka kissed the top of her head, his lips pressing against her still-damp hair. “People often say one thing when they mean another, Bithia. You know this. Don’t take this man’s word above all others.”

She laughed then, pressing her face against his chest to muffle the sound. “When did you become so clever?”

Chuckling, he lifted her face and angled down to kiss her. “I had a very good teacher.”

“One who would like to sleep,” Viltori groused. He rolled away from them with a groan. “If you two are gearing up to get lusty, then do it quietly.” He sighed. “I’m going to have a terrible headache come morning.”

“It’s your own fault,” Drahka reminded.

“Quiet, you.”

Bithia teased her hand along Drahka’s chest, toying with his hair as she made her way to his semi-hard cock. Cupping him softly, she asked, “Do you need release?”

“Need? No. Want? Yes. But not tonight.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips one by one. “Let us wait for our bonding.”

Her eyes went wide in the milky dark. “We can’t go through with that now.”

“Why not?”

“There is no funding for such an elaborate event.”

“Who says it has to be elaborate?”

Viltori rolled over. “You’re not seriously going to go through with this now, are you?” His voice was suddenly sober and laced with pain.

“Yes.” Drahka pulled him near. “With you.”

“No.” Viltori tried to pull away, but Drahka wouldn’t let him. “I’m not creating a child to be tormented by the gods.”

“What is he talking about?” Bithia tried to sit up, but Drahka held her down and explained about Viltori’s belief that they must sacrifice a child to the gods for cheating Viltori’s death. Bithia attempted to argue the idea with Viltori, but Drahka hushed her. Exhausted beyond what he thought he could endure, Drahka said, “And what makes you think they would torment the child we gave them?”

Viltori lay silently stunned. “Because it’s a sacrifice.”