Empress Hiding Read online

  “Shioliah …,” Rafal said breathily to himself as he pushed from the table and darted to the front hatchway in one rapid yet fluid motion.

  As he reached for the access pad, Dalis ran after him.

  “Prince Rafal!”

  Rafal turned – annoyance spread over his face at Dalis’ interruption and address – a growl of insistence from both him and his beast filling the room.

  Dalis halted – Mischief once again a little frightened of the glow of the beast’s eyes staring out from Rafal’s face. But Dalis only smiled the gentle smile – almost akin to that of a proud sire.

  “Your shirt, Denka,” the steward indicated the unfastened and untucked state of Rafal’s over-garment.

  Rafal grunted as he turned and quickly remedied the clothing to its proper positioning and fit as he nodded almost obediently at Dalis – raking his hands through his hair to tame it somewhat.

  As the hatchway opened, Dalis and Mischief only caught sight of the back of the female and her midnight hair as she was walking away and, of course, Rafal dashing after her. But Dalis failed to catch her name that rolled off Rafal’s lips because Mischief was once again chattering and babbling with speculation about his imagined appearance of a female that would even spend time with Rafal much less agree to be his mate …

  And it was far too late that Dalis noticed Rafal still had bare feet to add to his unkempt look, but the elder steward only sighed and turned back to the food area – the female probably would not even notice if she had any real feelings for the Prime Magistrate.

  One of the two Black Guards reached over and slammed the hatchway shut – the noise spooking Mischief such that Dalis had to absorb the monger’s startle which, of course, set off another round of babbling from his mischievous altre.

  The monger needed to sleep soon before he drove Dalis completely insane.

  Dalis shook his head as he walked back to the kitchen until something very important dawned on the steward: all of those augers and prophets could not have been wrong – it was statistically and, in the faithful Dalis’ opinion, religiously impossible.

  Which only left two possible options for the female: she was either completely faking her reaction and attraction to the Crowned Prince – an option which both he and Mischief dismissed almost outright as Rafal was far too perceptive and, this according to Mischief, intelligent enough not to fall for such trickery – or she was … oh dear Makers!

  Both he and Mischief strained toward the monitor to get a better look at the two of them together, but the couple had stepped far enough away from the entranceway that there was no clear shot of her face on the vidscreen.

  Dalis noted that his own hands began to shake with the force of the emotions running through both him and his altre as the steward desperately tried to focus on slicing again.

  Was Prince Rafal’s female, like Master Hondo’s Shelvana, a Blood-borne …? The kichigai Khedive would be homicidal … and that would be on a good day …

  And all Mischief could do was dance in celebration.

  Dalis – fighting back a grin that kept threatening to appear – simply continued his food prep and tried to urge his altre into sleep.

  After all, Mischief usually slept most of the day.

  Chiyoto stopped for the second time to presumably check the shuttle layout and directions display, but, in all truth, she was trying to shake the nagging feeling that they were being followed. The nagging had started yesterday as they busied themselves with boarding and such, but, with her lack of sleep, it seemed even the little feeling of such was magnified substantially.

  And this time Runa agreed.

  However, Runa had discerned it was the same presence they had sensed outside the noshery a few nights ago on the ICT, but there was no sign of the midnight-haired male either time Chiyoto had stopped to scan the passageway and crowds around them.

  Not sensing any feelings of doom or danger, Chiyoto decided to let it go for now. The one goal on her mind was to give the money to Rafal and then find some sustenance – she had reserved exactly enough for just that.

  And even though she and Chiyoto were not on speaking terms, Runa heartily agreed with the planned sustenance – the dragoness was beginning to feel the need to hunt, and with all the Crimsons in the immediate area, the need was growing much faster than it probably would have.

  Temptation, it seemed, was a powerful allure for her predatory appetite.

  Runa growled hungrily as Chiyoto checked the Keeper for the hundredth or so time this morning – she, too, was tired and terribly hungry, and she could certainly feel the need of her Runa to feed.

  And to be free to hunt.

  Chiyoto sighed heavily as she turned into the passageway that ended in the Royal Suite – even if she had not known it was the correct turn, the Black Guards posted outside the large hatchway would have been an obvious clue.

  Chiyoto immediately fell into her regal air – even her walk was slower and more flowing – her head held just a bit higher – her back ram-rod straight.

  And Runa growled low and long and threateningly within her.

  Runa hated formality and all the airs that went along with them – hated them all with a true passion befitting a dragoness. Even now, with Chiyoto’s monarchial walk paired with that beyond-annoying fastener surrounding their upper torso and harnessing Chiyoto’s breasts, Runa felt like a bridled yuctana in a riding rekabet.

  Chiyoto had always joked with her altre that it was a good thing the Makers had sent them at the time and place of history that they had – otherwise, Runa would not have been able to hold court much less represent the Empire at some of those stuffy gatherings of monarchs from neighboring empires the two of them used to read about in the magazines given them back on Haven.

  Runa had never disagreed with her – a first for the dragoness.

  Chiyoto put just a little bit of a snobbish sneer into her voice as she addressed the guards – males that were more than a head taller than she and that leered at her with their sexual intent clearly evident in their gaze.

  “Good morning, Beyfendis” – Runa doubted seriously if either of them was good or if they deserved the title of ‘beyfendi’ – “We would speak with the Prime Magistrate, if you please.”

  The guards quickly glanced across at each other – one of them seemingly amused while the other clearly looked down his nose at Chiyoto.

  Runa’s hackles rose – breakfast, it seemed, did not need to wait until they saw Rafal.

  But before the guards could respond, Chiyoto continued – her patience, it seemed, was shorter that her altre’s at the moment.

  “We simply would like to give him that which we neglected to offer him at our meal last night.”

  Runa wondered if the guards heard the threatening edge in her Treasure’s voice – even though she could feel Chiyoto fighting to keep a handle on it.

  Finally, while both guards grinned hungrily at her, the larger of the two stepped forward and held his hand out, the fingers thereon dancing slowly and menacingly in her direction. And Chiyoto saw his red triacate eyes flash at her as he spoke.

  “Well, lezzetli melek,” the drool threatening to escape his mouth as he grinned viciously down at her, “Offer it now. I am sure I would not leave you wanting in that way.”

  He took another step toward her, but Chiyoto did not so much as flinch – a matter which seemed to make the guard hesitate even if just for a moment. Runa could smell the malcontent – sense his malicious intentions, and she felt their magic begin to build from deep inside of her. But Chiyoto still did not step back – only her nostrils flared with the anger that threatened to tumble from her compact being.

  “I am quite sure, beyfendi,” Chiyoto directed a thought to a very tiny part of the disgusting guard’s groin area – a slow, growing pain, but nothing that could be directly tied to her ire, “That th
ere are any number of ways in which you would leave me wanting,” she let a menacing little grin grace her lips even as the guard began to slightly wince – oh, Runa rejoiced in this little vicious side of her Treasure, even grudgingly admitting that, in the grand scheme of things, she had Rafal to thank for the whole thing, “So, we will return later” – Chiyoto actually winked at the other guard as the slight wince on this closer one turned into something just a bit more serious – “When, perhaps, the Prime Magistrate is available.”

  Chiyoto turned away in a beautifully regal flourish and walked away. Even in her first few steps, she heard the hatchway to the Suite open, but she did not stop. The whole act of holding her temper while only pushing enough to start a chain reaction in the pich’s pants had taken its toll – the sleep deprivation and the hunger already had her leaning on Runa for strength to get them to the small public dining area and order some sort of meat.

  Until his voice cut through her anger.

  “Chiyoto!”

  No! Do not stop! Her mind and sensibilities screamed, but her feet and her heart were not listening.

  Runa only chuckled at the internal conflict of which she was not a part this time as they halted in their tracks before they had even reached the main passageway.

  Chiyoto heard his footsteps approach her as she closed her eyes and tried to, once again, set her mind on why they had come here. But Rafal’s delightful and soothing scent was over-whelming and threatened to bring down all of her defenses – his fresh-water maleness wrapped around her and took hold even as she tried to push it away. She managed to open her eyes and slowly start to turn toward him as his steps brought him and his calling body heat just behind her.

  “Ahh, Prime Magistrate,” she began with her cold, elitist tone as she reached under her tunic for the small coin purse she had attached to her jonpurs – her vision focused solely on his chest, not his face, “We came by to …”

  Rafal’s growl – obvious that it was both him and his beast – filled the passageway. The noise startled Chiyoto such that she quickly glanced up at him.

  And was ensnared.

  Before Chiyoto could release the breath she had caught when their eyes had met, Rafal raised his voice to speak to the two guards – his eyes never breaking contact with hers.

  “Guards. Leave us!” Rafal harshly demanded, “Now!”

  Chiyoto and Rafal stood just staring at each other as the guards passed them – both of the black-clad males paying much more attention to their standoff than Chiyoto would have liked. Just when she thought they were alone, Rafal spoke aloud again and not to her, even though his eyes still held her captive.

  “Sila!”

  From behind her, Chiyoto felt the approach of the midnight-haired male which Runa confirmed, but before she could turn around and greet the male, Rafal continued.

  “Sleep for now,” Rafal reached out toward her face as he spoke to the ebony-haired guard, his voice gentling even as his hand approached Chiyoto’s cheek, “She will be with us for the day.”

  “My Lord,” Sila’s voice behind her and then a retreat of the male’s footsteps.

  Chiyoto finally managed to find her foothold in reality, and, just as Rafal’s hand reached her cheek, she took a step back from him, her intention to continue returning the money to him so, they could …

  “Make no mistake, shioliah, I will pursue you until you are against the wall in the crowded Commons Area if that is what it takes,” Rafal’s eyes lit with hunger as well as some playfulness, “And we both know how well we fit together against a wall, yes?”

  Chiyoto’s entire body heated, especially the parts contained in her jonpurs, but it seemed the fastener kept her breasts from initially responding to him. She blushed and averted her eyes.

  After a moment of silence and realization dawned about his dismissal of the male that had been following them, Chiyoto suddenly frowned and looked back up at him. Oh, Makers! He was so damned gorgeous!

  Chiyoto tried valiantly to ignore her body’s reaction to him as she attempted to focus on the outrage of the situation.

  “Did you have someone following us, Prime Magis …”

  She had barely gotten the words out when a decided frown drew Rafal’s brows together, another of his beast’s growls escaping him, and then both of his hands were on her – one on her buttocks and one under her shirt on her back pulling very annoyedly at the fastener’s strap there. As she felt her body tugged against his and she drew in a breath of exclamation, she heard his growled question pour over and through her hair – the tug on the strap across her back becoming ever-more insistent.

  “What is this … this … thing, shioliah?”

  Runa sat back to watch the sparks – sharpening those talons of hers one against the other again. If nothing else, having Rafal around certainly kept her entertained and her Chiyoto’s emotions amped rather than suppressed.

  And, oh! How Runa savored the latter.

  Chiyoto tried to push back against his unyielding hold – her hands planted firmly on his hard, muscular chest as she struggled to do so. She growled intensely, but it was just her.

  Not Runa.

  “It is a …,” Chiyoto paused, she could not exactly just holler out the word ‘fastener’ in a public passageway – she huffed with irritation, “It is a … a …ahhh … you know what it is, Rafal!”

  As his beautiful Chiyoto searched for her ‘proper’ words, Rafal felt his entire body erupt into the tiny burning sensations he had felt before. His complete being froze, if only for an instant, at her exclamation of his name until his grip on her bottom tightened and he released the strap with the other – that free hand now reaching into the thick of her mane from under her shirt and fisting there, tugging insistently to turn her face up toward his.

  “So, you do remember my name, shioliah?”

  A grin so big across his face that she felt her knees grow weak in his embrace, and her breathing shallow as his scent hijacked her lower body, pulling it into his.

  This was her Rafal. Hers.

  Chiyoto took a breath to try to clear her head, and she cocked her head at his question even as her upper body remained stiff.

  Gods, how he loved that little crooked look of hers!

  “Of course I remember your name!” Chiyoto replied, completely flustered yet still pressing away from his chest – only now, the push did not seem quite so urgent, “Everyone in the Empire knows …”

  Rafal felt the sensations on his skin lessen in their intensity.

  He growled again, only this time he was right in her face, his lips almost touching hers, his hand roughly caressing her buttocks rather than holding it tightly as her body remained flush with his.

  “You are not everyone, Chiyoto Darré,” he leaned forward to lightly lick her lower lip, “You are my shioliah,” Rafal kissed her gently as he grasped her buttocks and her mane simultaneously – even his beast felt her body slowly relax in surrender as the great water-beast hummed in satisfaction, “And you do not use my title. Ever. Understood?”

  Chiyoto slowly opened her eyes to find his deep green ones staring back at her, and she nodded slowly.

  She blinked once. Twice.

  Then a soft grin crept across her face – she simply could not help herself.

  “Your hair is a mess, Rafal,” Chiyoto reached up and tried to smooth the nest of wild auburn strands that played there.

  Without warning, Chiyoto felt Rafal’s body tense again – his breathing not as relaxed from one breath to the next. But he increased his grip on her mane and inhaled deeply of the hair on her head, and she felt his body once again relax a notch or two.

  “It was a long night, shioliah,” he sighed as he caressed her buttocks again, liking the increase in her muskiness that their interaction produced. His beast lunged forward in lust, but Rafal held firm against it, as he rested his chin on
her forehead and let his hand slide down her mane again until he encountered her fastener strap.

  Its very existence broke his whole mood of relaxation.

  An irritated growl rolled up from inside of him, “Now,” Rafal’s voice lost some of its gentleness, “Why is this, shioliah?”

  Rafal felt Chiyoto’s entire body tense all over again, and he felt a sadness overtake her mood. She tried to push away from him – even though he held her firmly against his body. Rafal knew that something was very wrong.

  Chiyoto’s initial sadness was – albeit a gradual transition – slowly changing from sadness to anger.

  And the intensity of the sensations on his skin once again increased in their magnitude.

  She raised her eyes to his, and then looked away – he felt as though she were searching for words, for her ‘proper’ words when …

  “Because my hair will not stay braided, my Prince.”

  Rafal quirked a smile at her use of the title he had afforded to her alone, but then looked at his female in complete and utter confusion. What did braiding her hair have to do with wearing a gods-forsaken …

  Suddenly, his Chiyoto choked on her emotions, “I really tried, you can ask Runa,” but it was at that moment that the floodgate of sleep deprivation and hunger and other emotions with which Chiyoto had been dealing all night burst forth with a flood of tears and anger and frustration, “But our hair is too soft and coarse … and with all of those ribbons” – she fisted her hands and actually punched Rafal’s chest slightly – “not that I would know what color to wear anyway since Runa is” – well, she could not go there exactly – “And, well, I know the whole paint thing would not work with our skin temperatures” – Chiyoto thrust her hands outward – “and I guess I thought you might not be ashamed of us so much if I could do at least one thing” – she gritted her teeth and indicated the number one with her finger – the rest of the hand fisted and pounding on his chest again – “right, you know? … but then you are Prime Magistrate and you prefer to have a female that” – her beautiful eyes darted here and there as that precious blush rose on her cheeks – “but we are old and not experienced as we should be, I guess … and we are certainly not” – her voice was strident as she pounded his chest simultaneously with both fists – “a fahise to know how … I mean, we are not” – another pounding of her fists – “merchandise, Rafal, and we realize we are not really worth your defense since you are the Crowned Prince” – insistent hands perched on those beautiful hips of hers – “but I suppose it still would have been nice to hear you try” – a defeated sigh as her eyes welled up with tears, then a slight shake of her head – “but, we are okay, now, so, I came here dressed as properly as we could to pa-”