Sailmaster's Woman Page 2

  He gave her arm a tweak with his stick, and the pain was searing. Mind-boggling. Amplified by the collar around her neck.

  Elise’s eyelids fluttered once, then closed.

  * * * * *

  Ki Tul’Mar swung his sword in a wide arc, feeling night’s shroud fall away from his mind.

  The Kon’pa, a spiritual dance to honor the stars, the sails, and pa—the living essence that connected all things—was an ingrained part of his morning routine. Each step fell carefully on the silvery pa-coated floor of his quarters, and each movement served the balance of his diamond blade. A perfect weapon, carved from the jewels on Andromeda, and set in a hilt of the finest steel his home planet Arda had to offer.

  Arda was famous for metallurgy, fine castles, magnificent Chimera beasts, and towering warriors. In all of the galaxy, no planet had such a fine and honorable reputation, and no planet had such an ample supply of pa. Upholding Arda’s standards was Ki’s mission and purpose. He was the Sailmaster, a more absolute ruler than any king, and the title both pleased and burdened him.

  Ki’s muscles stretched, working out stiffness and damage from the last week of battles. The OrTans had grown bold indeed, raiding and sacking planets in the primitive sectors to fill their skull ships with new pleasure-slaves. Intergalactic laws the Ardani warriors had sworn to uphold, to defend and enforce to the last ship, sword, and man in the Royal Fleet, forbade this.

  Ki bared his teeth and growled, once more whipping his diamond blade through the cabin’s lavender half-light. Around him, in a circle on the warm stone floor, candles flickered. His steps never overturned a single flame, despite his incredibly long and powerful stride. On his chest, his pa-mark tingled, traveling in its flame pattern toward his shoulders.

  Now in his full physical prime, Ki could walk a railing on his toes, sword battle in a crow’s nest, or take on ten OrTans with only his blade for a companion. He could run a castle battlement faster than any of his crew, storm a fortress on the back of Artur, his graceful Chimera, and keep the unquestioning loyalty and support of millions in the Arda system—and beyond. Even throughout the Galactic Council worlds.

  He had awards and gifts of honor. He had fans and admirers and followers. He had a strong, vibrant pa-mark, and Astoria, the finest frigate in the Fleet.

  Yes. Ki Tul’Mar had everything an honorable Sailmaster could desire.

  Except a soul’s mate.

  With a forceful lunge, he thrust his diamond blade forward to finish Kon’pa. Sweat covered him like a damp robe, and his breath came in even, determined drafts. His teeth were still clenched, and the thought of his failure to find a mate rankled in his gut even as he counted his many blessings.

  But why should he care? He had service for his warrior’s needs any time he chose to avail himself of the flocks of ready females. And he could seek his soul’s mate any time he set his mind to the task. It was a terrible risk, but the Law of Keeping caused him little fear. He had no doubt he could win the woman, if ever he chose to locate her.

  For now, he did not choose to look. He did not need a shanna. Why would any warrior want to be distracted from Fleet duties, desire to be besotted and frenzied like some adolescent fool?

  Even if I searched, I could find no woman worth that kind of energy.

  Before Ki could continue with his private concerns, Fari’s psi voice intruded.

  Mind your thoughts, you oversized blowhard.

  Ki’s eyes narrowed. Even Sailmasters were cursed with younger brothers. Arrogant whelps who bedded every twist and wiggle from Celestia to the Galatic Council’s back chambers. No doubt Fari, the Sailkeeper of Arda, would have chosen a mate ten stellar years ago, fulfilled the Law, and pumped her with enough seed to breed a dozen heirs.

  “Mind your own thoughts,” Ki grumbled to Fari, thinking it much louder than he said it. “And ram your overactive staff into a board while you do.”

  To his great annoyance, laughter answered him. I had favor enough from our latest rescues to spare me the splinters. You, on the other hand, when was your last coupling, brother?

  Ki didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. Fari knew well that his older brother had his pick of the willing rescues, who had serviced the Sailmaster well and quickly.

  Battle-weary from stellar days of combat with the OrTan, Ki had welcomed the touch of women and the relief of climax. All four women had been beautiful. Various species of females, mostly humanoid—but none captured his interest for longer than their hands or mouths worked his mast, or for longer than they could accommodate his warrior’s length in their warm, wet sanctuaries. He had given them all as much pleasure as they could tolerate, and sent them on their way.

  Then, as he had so many nights, he had dreamed of a woman, as fine and beautiful as those described in Arda’s ancient legend of the Lorelei. The mythical guardians of the Tul’Mar line. Now those were women of great intelligence and fierceness, and power beyond reckoning, if legends could be believed.

  The Lorelei were halflings, part primitive human and part Ardani, wild with psi-power and rumored to be skilled in sorcery. The legends warned of Lorelei slipping through the forests about the Tul’Mar castle, prowling for traitors and saboteurs.

  Perhaps every warrior secretly wished to bed a Lorelei and discover that such an astonishing female was his soul’s mate.

  To Ki’s knowledge, this had never happened.

  Perhaps the woman of whom he dreamed was his fantasy mate, a shanna who would give herself to him without sucking away his sanity and focus. In his sleep, he had touched her fine curves and flaxen curls, and he had kissed her eyes—as blue and bright as Andromeda’s finest gems. As blue as the blade he carried at his side.

  Perhaps your diamond-eyed Lorelei is hidden among the fergilla back on Arda, Fari mused, interrupting Ki’s train of thought. Those beasts have little psi ability, so I could well understand how you might miss her in the herd—

  Only you would know if fergilla have genitals. No doubt you’ve bedded your share of their hairy arses, too.

  Fari was quiet for a moment, not making use of the psi connection so closely shared by those of the same blood, or by soul’s mates.

  Ki sheathed his sword and waved a hand over the ring of candles. The flames snuffed, filling the cabin with the scent of spices and wood. He breathed deeply, letting the calming vapors wash through him before he went to find Fari, at which point he intended to toss him overboard.

  You might ask the heavens for strength enough to pitch me into the void, but it would be only that, brother. Fari’s thoughts were gentle, but mocking. Prayers.

  “You will be needing prayers when I find you.” Ki flexed an arm, closed his fist, and imagined his little brother’s throat in his neat grasp. His pa surged. He could use a good sparring.

  Ki. Fari’s mental tone changed from teasing to hard in an instant. From brother to Sailkeeper with barely a breath. Activity in Sector B. Three skulls, heading away from the third planet.

  A quick storm of rage blew through Ki. How did they get through perimeter patrols?

  I do not know, brother.

  “By the worlds.” Ki’s hand dropped to the hilt of his diamond blade even as his mind reached out to the celestial mainsail’s vibrant pa fabric. “About. Come about!”

  Chapter 2

  Elise woke slowly, a black veil of stupor lifting off her brain.

  For a moment, she thought she was in her own bed, but the feel of silk against her naked skin told another story. Raising her hands, she touched her breasts.

  There was no silk between her palms and her nipples.

  Feeling around, she realized there was nothing at all but her, and she was floating. Rolling first to the left, then to the right, Elise determined she was lying on soft, drifting air. Wherever she was, it was pitch dark, and it smelled like roses and sandalwood. She decided the too-strong scent was incense or smoke, carried to her in brief, strong spurts—like an air freshener. A low thrumming sound rumbled in the background
, and every few seconds, the room vibrated.

  Like an airplane.

  “Oh, God.” Elise sat up, grabbing the metal collar around her neck. She gave it a small tug, and a warning prod of pain traveled her spine.

  “I’m on a spaceship. I’m a prisoner.” She let go of the collar. “No. That’s ridiculous. I’ve got to be dreaming.”

  But her unusually sharp instincts were supercharged, and somehow, she knew she wasn’t in a movie, or dreaming, or imagining. This was real. She was on a spaceship. For half a second, she was thrilled, and then terrified.

  Those alligators—Their pain sticks…

  “Hello? Is anyone here?”

  Her voice sounded small against the background hum.

  Where were her ugly kidnappers?

  No one answered her, and suddenly, Elise was cold. No sooner did she think about the chill than the air supporting her warmed until she was comfortable. Except for the fact that she was naked, and the air was brushing her breasts with tongue-like gusts.

  Oh, no. Not possible. She couldn’t get aroused after being kidnapped by alligator freaks.

  Elise covered herself, and the air tickled the backs of her hands. In her palms, her nipples felt like marbles. And the air was starting on her toes, her feet, her calves, and up, to her thighs. A perfect pressure, like fingers made of feathers. Her face heated up, and she had to keep reminding herself that she was alone in total darkness.

  At least she hoped she was alone, especially as the air slipped between her legs and began a lazy massage, pushing through her lips to her shielded slit and teasing her clit until she moaned.

  For a few seconds, Elise tried to fight the exotic softness, but it was no use. Her body began to drift in a slow spin, responding to her every gasp and shudder as the air moved up and back, then around in circles, pushing and releasing her wet, swollen clit until she cried out again. Every nerve in her body was humming with the motion of the ship, with the relentless air, now wickedly parting her legs.

  An image of Orion popped into Elise’s mind, and the air became the pirate’s hands. His tongue. His hot, welcome weight pressing against her. His fingers taunting her pussy until she groaned and threw open her legs. Sandalwood and roses filled her senses, no longer too strong, now blending with the strokes of the thick, solid air as it thrust into her.

  The first orgasm took her by storm, washing every inch of her in delicious shivers. And the air just kept fucking her. She came a second time, just as intense and leaving her rattled and whimpering, wishing she had her Orion in her arms.

  At that, the air became wonderfully solid. She had something to hold, and damned if it didn’t feel just like she thought Orion would. Hard and unyielding, yet gentle, and so incredibly warm.

  The air slipped behind her, as if cradling her in a loving embrace.

  Light seared through the room.

  Elise tried to cover herself, but the air was holding her too tightly. Her breath came in sharp gasps as her eyes adjusted—to a window opening before her.

  It showed an empty room.

  Hot with embarrassment, with the flush of her climaxes, and from the firm feel of the air once more teasing her nipples, Elise gaped as a woman entered the room—no! Not a woman.

  Well, not a human woman.

  She was naked except for a silver collar, with flaming red hair like Georgia, and perky breasts. Four of them. The hair between her legs was bushy auburn, and when she turned toward Elise, she reclined back in mid-air, running her six-fingered hand between her legs.

  Elise bit her lip, wishing she could vanish, but the woman didn’t seem to see her.

  A man entered next, very handsome and sculpted—normal looking except for his height, his faint green color, and the incredible length of his prick.

  Dear God. It must be fourteen inches. And he isn’t even hard yet!

  Fascinated and horrified, Elise stared as the man stepped behind the woman and began fondling her breasts. His unusual color and muscled arms stood out against her smooth white flesh and the swelling red of her nipples. The woman closed her eyes. Her lips parted, and Elise imagined that she was sighing or moaning. Elise was sighing and moaning, too, as the air was mimicking the green man’s gentle pinches.

  Elise twisted in her silken prison, but the air held her fast, kissing her skin as the man dragged his lips over the woman in the room. As his tongue circled her nipples, the air licked at Elise’s rock-hard buds. She moaned in spite of herself and forgot her guilt as the man moved to the side, took one of the woman’s breasts in his mouth, and began to suck. Softly at first, then harder, nipping and tugging.

  The sensation went on and on, with Elise knowing she was feeling everything the woman felt. The blend of fear and wonder and complete anonymity turned something loose inside Elise, and she thrust her breasts higher, just as the woman was doing. She groaned, no doubt mimicking the woman’s cries of pleasure.

  By the time the man plunged his long fingers into the woman’s pussy, Elise’s mind was spinning. She was more aroused than she had ever been, thrashing and nearly begging the air to finish.

  “Please,” she gasped as the woman grabbed the man’s enormous prick and guided it toward her center. “Please!”

  He penetrated the woman fast and hard, just as the air penetrated Elise. Pain shot through her and she screamed—and the air eased back out just as the man was easing out of the screaming woman.

  He’s so big. Relax. Damn. I’ve got to relax.

  With a slow release of breath, she willed her body to cooperate.

  When the man entered the woman’s pussy again, it was a gentle stroke, and Elise found that she could take the length and size of the air pushing inside her. She moved until she could receive it comfortably, and the air and the man began a slow, rhythmic pumping.

  Each thrust brought Elise to the very edge of pleasure and pain. She closed her eyes, rolling her hips high to meet what had once more become her vision of Orion.

  “I want you,” she moaned. “Harder. More. I need you!”

  The air hammered away, rubbing through her juices, driving her near to madness until her climax exploded like a flare. “I need you! Yes. Yes!”

  In that instant of bliss, Elise felt a tickling in her mind. Like a touch, only sharper and deeper. A probe. It hurt for a moment, and then she was lost to the waves of sensation, watching the green man and the red-headed woman grind, heads thrown back with the force of their delight.

  The window went dark, and Elise startled at her sudden isolation.

  The air that had pleased her so thoroughly now lowered her gently to the ship’s cool floor, and slipped into nothingness.

  Elise’s legs wobbled. She thought about sitting down, but the ship slowed, pitching her backward into a cold metal wall. She landed on her bare backside so hard her teeth clicked together.

  The thrumming sound grew louder, and she thought she could hear shouting and clanking. Dull thumps echoed from somewhere. The sandalwood and rose air-freshener was replaced by puffs of what smelled like burning rubber and flaming hair.

  Elise’s chest tightened.

  She covered herself with her hands, then wondered what the hell she was doing. What did it matter if anyone saw her? She trusted nothing in the world except Georgia—save for her own instincts. And her instincts told her something was wrong. More than wrong.

  The room was heating up like an oven. She had to get out of there.

  Her feet slipped and slid as she stood, but she managed to get both hands pressed against the now-warm walls. Walking slowly, she ran her fingers up and down the smooth metal, looking for a weak spot she could use her martial arts training to kick or punch open.

  There was nothing. Not even a seam or a bolt.

  As she felt around where she was sure the window had been, a sudden bang and flare of brightness made her whirl around, hands raised and ready to fight.

  Her eyes ached, then teared as light and smoke stung them. This was no observation window.
Someone had opened a door.

  A huge, ugly figure thundered toward her through the haze. It was one of her kidnappers. Gith. The alligator with mange, holding his double-crescent stick.

  “Wench!” he bellowed, stopping inches from her as she cowered back, hands still raised. “I choose you for my own prize, begin your breaking-in gently—no pain stick flailings, no time with the troops—I gave you my own gasha bed, even. And this is the thanks I receive?”

  He raised his claws, swirling smoke around them.

  “W-What?” Elise glanced under both of his arms, judging her odds of escape. If she could hit him once, right in the nose—

  “Do not play with me!” The alligator snatched her off the ground by her neck, bringing his stick within inches of her cheek. She smacked his arms, but she might as well have been punching stone. “I know you called to your Ardani lover with your mind. We picked it up on our psi scanners, just before the Fleet attacked.”

  Elise kept pounding the alligator’s scaly arm. She had no idea what he was talking about, but he was cutting off her air. Pain twisted through her neck, and her stomach ached with the effort of breathing.

  “Call him off.” The alligator increased the pressure on her throat and gave her the first taste of his horrible shock stick. “Tell him to leave my ship, or I will snap you in half and cook your guts for a feast!”

  * * * * *

  Ki fought like a man possessed. His pa-mark sizzled beneath his loose tunic, burning him and spurring him onward. OrTans fell like foul rain at his feet. Pain sticks flew and broke like toothpicks. His diamond blade slashed again and again, wasting beast and rigging and portal—anything in his way as he fought toward the center of the skull ship.

  Down, past the troops and guards. Down, through the bolted holds. Down, to where she was.

  Fari had been speaking to him as they pursued the slaving ships. They were deeply linked when Ki felt her call. His brother had shared his deep shock and pleasure at the sudden connection, and the knowledge that went with it. Ki had probed back immediately, deepening the psi-bond.