Empress Hiding Read online

  As Chiyoto carefully locked the hatchway behind them, Runa put herself into full protection mode – such was better than an entire guard detail for Chiyoto.

  Because guards had no magic.

  And Runa was by far the strongest dragoness ever sent to this realm – such was why Junko, their Mamere, had sent them away so young to Haven to learn each other – even the smaller incidents could not have been hidden in a populated area with a magic and physical build so substantial.

  The Keeper did prevent Runa’s physical form from appearing for now – and, thus, the full extent of her magic – but it had only a dampening effect on the real magic that ran through both their veins.

  In fact, Runa knowingly gambled that soon the Keeper would have not the strength to continue to hold her physical form prisoner – it was, after all, designed for an adolescent Heiress just learning to control her altare, and both she and Chiyoto were way beyond adolescence.

  But there was no need to trouble Chiyoto with that particular knowledge.

  The young Heiress had enough on her mind for now.

  Runa purred and caressed the veil that separated her from Chiyoto, and Chiyoto sniffled one last time and then sighed contentedly in response to her altare’s stroking.

  “I love you too, my Runa.”

  Chapter 3

  The determined and swift pace Rafal set on his return from the finalized negotiations was making his Detail’s job rather difficult – keeping pace and trying to keep an eye out both ahead and to the side was challenging to even the best bodyguards. But Rafal did not care – he was determined to get back to his suite, shed these tight-fitting boots and horribly heavy garments and have a time in his hydro-spa. And his beast was in full agreement even without commenting.

  But Rafal had not taken three steps into the large common area when he felt his skin begin to tingle just in the slightest as his beast rose to full attention inside of him – there was a presence here, in this vicinity, that Rafal had not sensed before now.

  Had not sensed ever.

  He noticeably slowed his pace as both he and his beast used their acute senses to find that which had brought them both to attention. Rafal realized that his entire Detail immediately shifted gears and began to move into a more protective stance to surround him. And his beast did not like that – did not like it in the slightest – because the beast wanted to be near whatever creature was affecting them.

  For some reason the beast thought the Detail would spook the creature and prevent their meeting – and his beast wanted the meeting.

  Wanted it badly.

  Rafal fought the internal objections – after the incident a few hours ago, he knew there was a possibility of trouble, of some sort of retaliation from the Blood-bornes who probably interpreted the scene such that he was the aggressor – but his ornery beast persisted in its protestations until Rafal motioned for the Detail to stand down.

  Jaylis walked cautiously to stand beside Rafal – the Captain’s eyes, although hidden in his hunter’s glasses, were constantly scanning the multiple levels that opened into this large forum. Small groups had begun to form to catch sight of the fabled and over-sized Prime Magistrate of the Bohrean Empire, and, although his heightened senses found no animus emanating from them at present – at least none on a threatening level of concern – Rafal’s safety was his only priority.

  “We should not dally here on the Commons, Magistrate,” Jaylis’ voice was barely audible, but he knew the Prime Magistrate could hear him, “There are many Greens out this evening, and your continued presence is simply an open invitation for trouble.”

  Rafal growled chidingly at Jaylis’ implication that there would be problems simply because the make up of the crowds happened to be over-whelmingly of Blood-bornes. A growl to which Jaylis simply shook his head in response.

  Rafal only chuckled in response as he began to enjoy the sensations that continued to play along his nerve endings.

  “Relax, Jaylis, there is no trouble, only an anomaly which …,” At that very moment, Rafal’s olfactory found that for which he and his beast had been searching, and he inhaled deeply, “There you are,” Rafal heavily breathed the words rather than spoke them. He slowed even further and did a wide three-sixty to the dismay of his Detail as well as Jaylis because, as usual, the Prime Magistrate completely ignored the crowds, leaving it to his Detail to assure that there was a safe perimeter around his being.

  The scent was one that fully enthralled both Rafal and his beast – it was completely unique to them even given Rafal’s wide travels and meetings with so many other races and cultures. There was a slight hint of musk and of salt water that swirled intricately with the flavor of his favorite creamy peppermint tea. But the most intriguing accent of all was the fact that it was laced through and through with the unmistakable essence of strong yet innocent female – how he knew that the lacing was female or, more importantly, that said female was unclaimed, he did not know, but his beast and he were in full agreement: the unique and intoxicating scent definitely belonged to an undefiled female predator.

  And they really did not agree on anything most of the time.

  Rafal raised his head to visually scan the faces of the crowds as the tingling across his skin, especially that of his neck and chest, increased substantially.

  When he had only just begun to look up, Rafal’s beast began to buck at the reins onto which Rafal continually had to fight to hold him – the beast obviously sensed or saw something Rafal did not.

  And it was definitely not danger the beast detected.

  Because this reaction was his dangerous and deadly amphibian’s “let me out to play” fighting at the reins – the same fighting Rafal had to battle every time they arrived home and his beast wanted to swim in the large recreation havuz Rafal had constructed just for the beast’s enjoyment.

  Rafal immediately stopped his scan as he waged his own internal battle to hold onto his cognate form, and although his visage looked as if he stared at something in particular, the reality was that the Prime Magistrate was focused on nothing outside of himself. It was in that state of conflict that Rafal felt the tingling cease entirely, and the intriguing scent he had found almost completely dissipate except for that portion that was obviously a lingering remnant within his olfactory.

  As the beast completely relented, an uncharacteristically mournful yet thunderous growl – from both Rafal and his beast – escaped him at the loss.

  And the crowds quickly scattered in response to that growl.

  And, to tell the truth, so did his entire Detail – all, that is, except the same one Guard with the black braid. That Guard simply stood at the ready near Rafal, his eyes continuously in motion from Rafal to their surroundings and back to Rafal. It was clear he was some sort of Blood-borne or mixed blood predator with good eyesight as he did not need the hunter glasses here on the lighting of the Common area as Jaylis did. And long-braid was the only one of his Detail that showed no fear of the obviously dangerous Prime Magistrate in his actions or reactions to the situation and its obvious oddity – and Rafal once again made a mental note of the particular Guard’s behavior.

  “Good job on the threatening growl, Prime Magistrate,” Jaylis did not hide his happiness that the masses had been frightened away even though he knew the Prime Magistrate hated being portrayed as a monster – but he did not serve Prince Rafal Sadid, he served Preeminent Khedive Khitam Sadid, “Are we ready to continue now, Denka?”

  The mocking in the Captain’s voice and address was evident to both Rafal and his beast.

  “Siktir git!” Rafal practically spat in Jaylis’ face as he purposefully rammed the Guard Captain with his upper body, and the – incensed? disappointed? He really was not sure – Rafal resumed his pounding pace back toward his quarters.

  Feeling as though something had been ripped from his possession before he had even had a ch
ance to know what the something was.

  But he wanted it back.

  His beast growled long and low inside of him.

  Both of them did.

  Chiyoto had made three complete circles around the each of the four upper levels that opened onto the Commons area – she was determined to be fully and completely ready to sleep when she and Runa finally had to return to their tiny sleeping quarters.

  Anything short of such would result in them getting no sleep at all because Runa would be crazed by simply thinking about the small area of confinement.

  It was fortuitous that there were sets of stairs that went up and down between the levels almost anywhere and everywhere they turned – it made for an even more invigorating workout for them. However, Chiyoto was beginning to regret not wearing fasteners as her ample breasts did a lot of bouncing on what seemed like hundreds of small to medium staircases she chose to traverse in their exercises. Runa growled annoyedly at the regret, and Chiyoto had to chuckle at her altare’s aversion to something that really had no effect on the altare at all.

  Runa grumbled and angrily likened the fasteners to a harness such as beasts of burden wore for their masters to direct and control them.

  Chiyoto had to laugh at that comparison.

  It was in such mental conversations and concentrations that Chiyoto was lost as she mounted the largest staircase that led from her three rounds she had just completed on the ground floor up to the second level. It was then – when she glanced out over the floor before turning to mount the second flight – that the most attractive male the Makers could have ever created entered the forum. And not only was he beautifully handsome, but he carried a Crimson aura about him that – unlike the other Crimsons that shown a pinkish-yellow – glowed so blindingly gold that it was almost pure white in its intensity.

  And Chiyoto found herself mesmerized by him.

  She stopped immediately and braced herself on the railing as she leaned forward to focus her and Runa’s extraordinary vision on the face of the extra-large male – clothed in heavy garments of brilliant midnight – with the endless, flowing chestnut hair. Yes! That hair! It was like deep garnet stones spun long and spring-like, and she suddenly longed to lace her fingers into it. She did not even mind the thin, short-haired beard that ran the length of that strong, touchable jawline – it simply made him all the more attractive to her. All Chiyoto could sense around her were vibrations of fear and awe and even some hatred, but she was drawn to him such that she simply could not take her eyes from him.

  “Oh, Runa,” Chiyoto mumbled to herself, “That is the stuff female dreams are made of, yes?”

  Runa growled threateningly and mumbled something about only bad dreams involving Crimsons as Chiyoto continued to stare, her hands itching to run themselves through that heavenly hair as she nuzzled his neck. She could almost feel his large strong arms as they held her while she was nuzzling there …

  And she had never even been held by another creature other than Mamere – and, goodness knew, that hold was never warm nor snuggly.

  Snuggly? What kind of a word was snuggly? Runa roared inside of Chiyoto’s head to get her attention away from the Crimson that had somehow made her sweet, innocent Treasure lose her mind. Runa bellowed about how many wives and consorts the Crimson pich must have, and how Chiyoto would be nothing but a piece of Green trash to him – a Yasak to be exterminated.

  But Chiyoto only shushed her dragoness quietly as her vision remained transfixed on a face that called to her on levels she had not even known she had.

  “It is only a dream, Runa, he cannot see us. Calm yourself,” she laughed inwardly at her altare’s state of panic, but then her mind was lost on the magnificence that was him again, “Mmmmmmm. What do you think he tastes like? I mean, that is what males and females do is taste each other, yes?” Chiyoto asked Runa in an almost inaudible voice as she strained to get a scent of him, of what he would smell like up close.

  And Runa completely lost her own mind.

  She began sending Chiyoto memories of the treatment of the Blood-bornes at the hands of the Crimsons in the streets and in the dwellings where they had lived in Capital City all those cycles ago – vision after vision after vision she sent her star-struck Treasure to try to alter the lens through which she now viewed and fantasized about the over-sized Crimson Raksasa in front of them.

  But Chiyoto ignored them all – brushing away each one with the reiteration that she was simply enjoying the view.

  Until she realized that the gorgeous vision in strokeable black velvet was looking directly at her -- staring intently, actually – and all breath left her body in fear. Suddenly, she realized that Runa had been right, that she had completely lost her mind.

  “Oh, dear Makers! Hide us, Runa! Now!” Chiyoto whispered almost inaudibly as she felt the gentle cloak of magic cover her completely so that she still stood in the crowd, but no ink-scent, no emotional signature, no nothing emanated from her – Chiyoto was simply an almost faceless body as she turned from the midnight-clothed dream male and continued her exercises.

  “My apologies, my beautiful altare. That shant happen again,” Chiyoto tried to sound convincing as she jogged and fought valiantly to forget the commandingly handsome face that now seemed to be etched upon her memory.

  But Runa was unconvinced. If for no other reason than the slight tug at her own emotions that she, too, had felt when Chiyoto had been focused solely on the male’s face. Ahh, but Runa could take some of her Treasure’s words to heart: what would the male taste like?

  Runa nuzzled at Chiyoto to indicate that she accepted the apologies.

  Because she could envision a scrumptious Crimson feast – with that auburn-haired male as the main course.

  And his cold, malicious Crimson heart would be the first thing to go – handsome face be damned.

  Runa’s self-induced hunger – without the specifics, of course – bled into her connection with Chiyoto.

  “Yes, Runa, I agree,” Chiyoto stopped jogging and stopped to splash her face with some water from the designated Green public drinking fountain – a designation to which Runa voiced her continued discontent, “It is time to cool down, relax, and locate that little noshery of which our gentle Harnon spoke.”

  Runa growled her agreement and grinned inwardly.

  Yes, nourishment sounded very good right now.

  After dismissing his Detail for the remainder of the evening, Rafal slammed the hatchway behind him and began unceremoniously disrobing as he strode to the lounging area.

  Rafal placed the documents from his pockets into the safe and turned to the couch as he summoned his trustworthy steward.

  “Dalis!”

  The elder steward’s voice directly behind the large couch where he had deposited his over-sized muscular mass startled the exhausted Rafal.

  “Ready to have your boots off, Magistrate?”

  Rafal’s surprised growl turned into one of almost pleading as he took the fermenti Dalis offered him.

  “Useless question,” the shirtless Prime Magistrate grumbled as he scratched his powerful and solidly muscled chest, “Get them off of me!”

  Dalis was already positioning himself to remove the first one as Rafal finished his barked command and lifted his boot for Dalis to grip.

  Rafal took another long drink of the fermenti as he threw his head back and closed his eyes – his scent memory was usually not the best, but both he and his beast remembered her.

  And the momentary intoxication and skin stimulation her scent created in them – even though he had not even a face to put with those satisfying sensations.

  Dalis had begun working on the second boot as he started asked his next question.

  “What time would you like to go to—” but Rafal interrupted him as if he had not even spoken.

  “Do we have any of that peppermint tea? A
nd the rich cream you make me drink in it?”

  Mischief laughed playfully as a sly grin broached Dalis’ face – although his back still faced Rafal.

  “I am sure that I could round some up somewhere, my Prince,” Dalis carried the boots with him as he began to gather up the trail of clothing which Rafal had deposited on the floor, “Would you like some now or as a night cap when you return after your meal?”

  Rafal stood and downed the remainder of the fermenti – a bit of it eeked out the side of his mouth and dribbled into his low-cut beard that ran the length of his jaw. Rafal simply wiped it haphazardly with his wrist as he tossed the empty sise onto the other cushioned chair and proceeded to unfasten his belt and heavy, velvet pantaloons over which the boots had fit.

  “Put it on the stand next to the spa as soon as you have it ready,” Rafal ordered as he strode, pants open yet still hanging at his hips – he had both arms raised over his head, pulling one elbow behind his head and then the other as he stretched his tremendous body in relief from the confines of the heavy clothing, “We will be in here for a while.”

  “Yes, Magistrate,” Dalis calmly replied – knowing full-well that ‘a while’ got quite extensive when his Prince needed some water time, “And your meal?”

  “Two hurs. No less,” Rafal’s voice was gruff and adamant as he opened the door that led to the large multi-depth pool with various hydro-jets placed throughout, but he paused halfway through and added in a lower and almost as one might interpret much softer tone, “We need the time, Dalis, so prepare your animal for what it may see.”

  And there it was. One of the main reasons Dalis Benson continued to serve Crowned Prince Rafal Sadid. The Prime Magistrate had a heart hidden somewhere deep inside that hard, outer shell that was the face the rest of the universe saw.

  Rafal knew that Mischief – although the Prime Magistrate would never actually name Dalis’ altare – was scared to death of Rafal’s beast. Had been from the first time the beast had emerged out of the large recreation havuz Rafal had constructed for them back at the main residence in Capital City. In fact, Mischief had earned both he and Dalis a severe concussion when he completely freaked out and ran into one of the large rocks as the huge beast’s body – adorned with those multiple stingers and seemingly iron-clad torso topped-off with the large multi-pincered tail – had surfaced and turned to roar Dalis’ name. Dalis was sure that even the strongest of Crimson beasts would lose it simply with the massive head and venomous fangs pointed in their direction.