Empress Hiding Read online

The obsessive Khedive impatiently tapped the table on which the comm-station was mounted – Jaylis should have reported in by now – but, again, Khitam let his murky memories continue to wander as he waited.

  And then there was Süleiman – his cowardly middle brother who would not even accept his challenge for the throne. As the medica and hakims had tried beyond hope to revive Ilkin, Khitam had silently stood across the body from Süleiman and raised his fist in silent challenge to the blonde-haired, stunningly golden-eyed outcast of the three brothers. Their father had often commented how the light color made Süleiman appear even weaker than he actually was – the blonde must have been a recessive gene on that particular consort’s side (his father had multiple consorts and Khitam and his brothers were the result of three different ones) as no blonde Khedive had ever ruled. The midnight hair was the trademark of the family’s rule and power.

  Khitam’s beast growled again at the introduction of the red hair into the ruling line with the birth of his eldest, Rafal – yet another reason to keep a tight rein on the strong and most times confrontational and, yes, even defiant Heir.

  And, to this moment, although some other memories seemed almost hazy now, Khitam could still vividly remember his gutless brother’s response to that challenge: Süleiman’s face had initially grown hard and aggressive – those cutting amber eyes nearly ignited with an internal fierceness of which Khitam was almost unsure – as if he would accept the challenge only to be replaced by a resolute single shake of his blonde hair. As Süleiman crossed himself shoulder to opposite hip and shoulder to opposite hip in a show of surrender, he voiced a statement that to this day tended to haunt Khitam, “My brother is dead,” there was little to no emotion in his voice, “We will return to bury him.”

  And then Süleiman had simply turned and left – left the room, left the palace, left Tristanin.

  And he had never returned – not for Ilkin’s funeral or burial and not for Khitam’s coronation.

  It was rumored that he had joined a reclusive religious order that lived deep within the mountains near the largest ocean, but Khitam had quickly forgotten about him. Oh, Khitam had occasionally considered sending a detachment of guards to assure that he never return, but there had always been more important matters.

  Like the devastating birth of Rafal, and the foreboding prophecies that surrounded his eldest. And, then, while his second born, Hondo, had only been two years of age, Rafal’s horrible beast had appeared – killing four and injuring many more – and he found it necessary to have his consort killed to assuage his own disappointment and anger at both Rafal and at his beast’s appearance. And then the undying anger from Rafal at Khitam’s ordering of the execution – as if a female consort meant that much to her offspring. She was simply a means for the production of heirs and nothing more.

  And Rafal had taken it upon himself to poison Hondo’s mind against Khitam, their sire. It seemed that no matter what Khitam did to try to mend the relationships, the efforts were for naught. It was as if something so simple as the cleansing of his house of an obviously defective producer had permanently hardened his eldest son’s heart against him.

  And, in turn, his other son’s as well.

  But more than all of those matters combined was the awkward and most distressing fact of his sudden and permanent impotence following the consort’s execution – an embarrassing fact that Khitam – undeniably the greatest of all the Khedives in Khitam’s learned and unbiased opinion – kept hidden from even his most trusted advisor. Khitam even had every orospu he chose to “bed” blind-folded so that she knew not who in the palace had her….because the act was never one of pure taking. It was with his mouth or his fingers or knife handles or even his brush handles – one of his favorite means because it left a satisfying scent behind he could enjoy every time he brushed his long, black-now-mostly-gray locks.

  And the “taking” was never one of true pleasure for the female – in fact, Khitam had begun to require more and more violent means of using their bodies to satisfy his carnal needs – both he and his beast licked their lips and fisted and unfisted their hands at their creative ideas of bondage and induction of orgasms in the orospus.

  Both male and female.

  It was there, in that self-absorbed fantasy as Khitam longingly grasped his useless and now-receding genitals, that the incoming message beacon sounded and the comm-screen illuminated to reveal Jaylis’ image.

  Khitam quickly transitioned into the complete composure of a ruling monarch as he watched Jaylis bow his head reverently.

  “My Lord,” Jaylis acknowledged his Khedive.

  Khitam nodded ever so slightly in response.

  “Your report, my servant.”

  Jaylis took a deep breath and let it out again before beginning.

  “Prime Magis ….”

  Jaylis’ speech was cut-off by a loud, condescending growl that emanated from Khitam.

  “He is the Crowned Prince, Captain, and you will refer to him as such,” Khitam’s voice brokered no room for negotiation as that almost insane twinkle that had recently appeared in his graying eyes danced once again.

  “My apologies, Lord, but the prince insists he be called Prime Magistr….”

  Another growl, this one more threatening as Khitam’s eyes came alive with the lunatic lights now.

  “You serve Khedive Sadid, Captain, not my son, Crowned Prince Sadid,” the Khedive gritted his teeth as he completed the statement, “As such you will refer to him by his proper title.”

  “Yes, my Lord,” Jaylis only hesitated slightly before continuing, “Prince Sadid completed the treaty negotiations with the Onteerian High Premier, and, at last confirmation, it seemed that everything you desired had been included in the final document.”

  Khitam’s entire brow crinkled in annoyance.

  “What exactly does ‘at last confirmation’ mean, Captain?”

  Jaylis cleared his throat – his focus seeming to waiver somewhat.

  “My Lord, both High Premier Starkrygg and Prim . . Prince Sadid ordered all advisors and guards – everyone – from the room before they actually put writing utensil to paper in signature.”

  Another growl rolled up Khitam’s voice – this one much lower and almost foreboding.

  “How long were they in there, Captain?”

  Jaylis swallowed hard although he valiantly kept his composure in the sights of his obviously angered ruler.

  “No more than fifteen perhaps twenty mins, my Lord.”

  Khitam’s stare became vacant as his thoughts wandered once again, but, just as quickly as he had become distracted, the aging Khedive was back.

  “Dat-com a visual of the finalized document to me, Captain.”

  Again, a slight hesitation on Jaylis’ part.

  “To my knowledge, my Lord, Prince Sadid retained on his person the only copy of the original that our team received.”

  If there was a definition of unhinged, Khitam came close to defining such as he stood and yelled at the comm-station, at Jaylis – the gray ruler’s spittle peppering the screen – his eyes wild with an insanity all their own.

  “Then how am I to know what it is that my unstable and untrustworthy progeny has signed in the name of my Empire?! He is mad, Captain – that is why you are there! Can I not trust you t—”

  Jaylis interrupted,

  “My Lord, I am sure Prince Sa—”

  The interruption was not a good idea, and Khitam roared his irritation effectively silencing Jaylis’ response.

  Loudly and with ferocity – his large bear so very close to the surface in that irate sound.

  Then he asked in a knowing yet threatening tone that sang of murderous intent.

  “And his proclivities to weaken our house in the eyes of the populace, Captain?”

  Jaylis sighed.

  “Prince Sadid still demonstra
tes a tolerance and an almost patience toward the Green vermin that infest your empire, my Lord,” Jaylis’ chin dropped and he let the impact of his next statement ring with the hatred that shown in his eyes, “It is almost as if he sees himself as simply their magistrate and not their subjugator.”

  The madness that had begun to slowly consume Khitam edged ever closer as his blood pressure sky-rocketed – Jaylis could see the Khedive’s bear-like beast quiver in his facial features as Khitam fought to maintain control of his cognate form.

  “Do your best to get a glimpse of that treaty, Captain, and we would see you in our presence in four days time.”

  Jaylis did not even have the opportunity to acknowledge Khitam before the enraged Khedive cut the transmission.

  And continued to rant to himself.

  “The red hair … the untamable beast … the Green sentences he continues to hand down that equal those of our Crimsons … everything he is and does says I should have disowned him years ago! Or, better yet, ended him along with his progenitor!”

  The beast within him roared in anger as Khitam paced furiously back and forth across the room.

  “He will be the end of the Great Bohrean Empire the Sadids have worked so tirelessly to build!”

  The pacing continued as the aged Khedive fumed in silence for a time until, without warning, he stopped and slammed his fist on the transmit button and shouted through the internal comm-panel on the wall.

  “Ferenti!”

  An out-of-breath and somewhat male voice responded almost immediately, “Yes, my Lord!”

  “Notify Prince Hondo that the Preeminent Khedive will be on his grounds for a full inspection tomorrow mid-morning!”

  A hesitant and questioning response, “My lord?”

  Khitam had no patience remaining.

  “Do it, Ferenti! And ready my transport for an early morning departure!”

  “At your command, my Lord.”

  Khitam deactivated the panel and continued ranting to himself as he began removing his clothing in anger – arrowing each piece to the ground as he marched toward the large doors leading to the balcony – throwing them open to let the starshine illuminate his now nude form.

  “Power will always trump poison another may have tried to plant,” Khitam laughed evilly to himself, “I want to have a good, aerial view of the lands I will be taking from that red-haired abomination and giving to my progeny that deserves it so much more than he.”

  Khitam continued with a roar as his beast appeared – the great bear being the only one who heard the mad Khedive as he finished his rant in the bear’s head, “We should have named Hondo and his magnificent wartrige as our heir-apparent years ago.”

  The huge bear thundered in freedom as his massive form jumped from the slightly raised balcony and took off into the thick woods surrounding the Royal Palace.

  Chapter 7

  Completely content, Rafal continued to hold Chiyoto until they were both settled – their breathing having leveled off in perfect rhythm with one another as his beast literally purred within him.

  “These are transit barracks, ashia,” the deep, rumble of his voice as it rolled from his chest made Chiyoto almost instinctively attempt to nestle herself even closer to his body – if such were even possible. Both Rafal’s body and his beast began to respond in kind to her body’s curves, as luscious as they were, rubbing against them in such an intimate fashion, “To where do you travel and when?”

  A muffled growl escaped Rafal as his hand quite naturally tightened in her mane in response to his female’s body moving against him so easily.

  And it was not the only thing that tightened in that moment.

  Suddenly, and without even a flinch in the relaxed muscles that presently defined his Chiyoto’s body against him, a deep, feral growl of warning escaped her mouth. Before Rafal could even question the action, he felt his Chiyoto smile against him just before she took a long scent of his chest and lifted her gaze to him – a small female chuckle accompanying the action.

  “I do not believe Runa likes you holding us there,” a flash of magenta from earlier across her eyes and then it was gone again, replaced solely by the clear and calming pink of his Chiyoto’s eyes – the flash but a brief reminder that this dangerous female housed something powerful and, at this point, inexplicable within. But neither he nor his beast could find the slightest trepidation in holding her and claiming her as their own.

  Although it was clear her Runa may have some sort of objection.

  Rafal met her gaze, but did not relent his hold on the mane nestled between her small yet muscular shoulders – his hand there by way of underneath her shirt from behind as he held her against him.

  “And what does Chiyoto think about it, ashia?” A spark of mischief so faint that if she had not been looking right into his dark green eyes she might have missed it as his voice and his face seemed completely unmoved.

  There was a slight hesitation in her response, and she cocked her beautiful face to the side again in question – the action once again turning something deep within Rafal’s being and tying him to her even more.

  A slight grin tried to breech Chiyoto’s lips as she looked away from him in an innocent timidity? coyness? that could not be masked – and Rafal reveled in all that she was as she tried to find proper words …

  “Well, I think, Rafal, that simply being this close …ehr,” she swallowed and nervously cleared her throat as she smoothed the wrinkles in his shirt where her head had been cradled, “The way that I feel everywhere … then it goes to the overall … and I guess together I …”

  Rafal felt a satisfied male chuckle escape him as he lifted her chin to face him, “Like it belongs there, ashia?”

  Almost instantly – just as it had back at the noshery – Chiyoto’s entire body became engulfed in a smile as a slight blush seeped into her cheeks.

  “Aye, Rafal,” she re-fisted his shirt just a bit tighter, “Just like that.”

  Rafal’s response was immediate – his eyes lit from deep inside and a huge grin adorned his face as he leaned into Chiyoto’s face with an almost childlike mischievousness and open challenge to whoever and whatever this Runa was.

  “Then tell your Runa to get used to it.”

  Rafal playfully yet in a purposeful display of dominance snapped his teeth just in front of Chiyoto’s nose – his playful female responding in kind with her own coltish chomp even as another threatening growl escaped her small frame.

  And although this Runa made it very clear she was not happy with such, his Chiyoto was playing with him again.

  No, that was wrong – they were playing with each other, and Rafal vowed they would continue to do so even though he had his own ulterior motive to this play.

  Runa needed to learn to accept him.

  Accept them.

  But before Rafal could respond to the inner growl or the magenta eyes that momentarily appeared in his Chiyoto’s face as he knew they would, the beautiful female unexpectedly reached up and touched his face along the bearded jaw line again, her thumb running gently along its length there, the contact once again sending the most enjoyable sensations to his already throbbing member.

  “I truly like it when you smile, Rafal.”

  Rafal felt his lids droop once again as he reached up and placed his hand over Chiyoto’s where it rested on the side of his face, a lump rising in his throat as his heart expanded in his chest. He swallowed hard as his grip unconsciously tightened on her mane.

  “I am afraid I have not had much practice in that department, ashia.”

  The words were spoken very carefully and without the self-assurance that had encompassed Rafal since their embrace, but he did not look away – not even in the slightest. In fact, it was almost as if Rafal spoke to her soul with his honesty.

  And his pain.

  It was there
, in that moment, that whatever part of Chiyoto’s heart had not been lost to Rafal out in the Commons on the side of that crowded walkway, now belonged to him and him alone.

  And Runa wanted to claw the Crimson’s eyes out for it.

  The powerful altare was still reeling from his unmitigated gall of a challenge with the ‘get used to it’ comment and now this! What had happened to her beautiful, angry Chiyoto that had wanted to smash the Crimson against the wall or even fry him for a late night snack less than half an hur ago – the one that had slammed the door and almost drawn his blood with the power she wielded . . . ?

  Blood.

  Runa sat back and shook her head as something remarkable occurred to her.

  His blood.

  That was what the over-whelming scent of ‘strength’ about this Crimson male was – the source of strength contained in his blood. That must be why her Chiyoto was so completely infatuated with him – the power his blood could provide for her.

  For them.

  With Chiyoto’s deep breath, Runa could now easily smell the strength that his blood exuded – knew now that with but a small amount of that strength, that Makers-forsaken Keeper would be useless in containing her.

  Knew now that she could stand a bit more of this Crimson male around her Chiyoto if it meant getting their teeth into his flesh, his blood into their system, his strength as part of them. Because that was how Blood-bornes’ joined: through an exchange of blood leading up to and during the mating process. And all Runa and Chiyoto needed was the ‘leading up’ part – after that, this Crimson would be disposable – her Chiyoto’s virtue intact.

  And Runa could permanently free them of this conceited and self-aggrandizing male.

  Both of them.

  Runa grinned to herself as she signaled her ‘capitulation’ to Chiyoto.

  Chiyoto relaxed when she felt her Runa’s acceptance flow through her just as she smiled up at Rafal’s honest face simply awaiting her response with a part of him laid bare – Chiyoto would take that part and every other part as well.

  Because Rafal was right – it did feel as though they belonged together.