The Cambion’s Kiss A story from The Chronicles of Oea Raquel Taylor (c) 2008
The Cambion’s Kiss A story from The Chronicles of Oea Raquel Taylor Published 2008 ISBN 978-1-59578-399-8 Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © 2008, Raquel Taylor. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author. Manufactured in the United States of America Liquid Silver Books http://LSbooks.com Email:
[email protected] Editor Kat Mayo Cover Artist Anne Cain This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
Chapter One The sound of a the jewel-laden waterfall throbbed in Lady Exotica’s ears as she stared at her reflection in the full-length silver mirror and wondered what flaw Prince Kaliban saw in her. Her hair was as dark as raven’s wings, and it flowed long and straight to her ankles, her pale skin tawny in the candlelight of the chamber that the Lord shared with her. Her eyes matched the candlelight, just as tawny, just as intensely beautiful—or so innumerable Lords and Ladies in the Pleasure Pens of Lower Oea had told her until her ears had rung with the monotony of hearing their lecherous praises. She pulled full, soft lips back from white teeth and inspected their perfection before examining the rest of her body, searching for the flaw that impeded Kaliban’s love. His disagreement with her was not physical. She knew that, and yet she could not stop looking for it on her skin, in her eyes, in the quality of her smile. Reflected behind her, the silver waterfall descended into a pool that encompassed that entire side of the immense bedchamber of the Crown Prince of the Royal House of Oea. Myriad precious gems winked at her from the cerulean blue waters, casting multicolored reflections on the alabaster and gold ceiling above. The soft, color-saturated steam that rose off the waters caused a certain humidity in the chamber, and Exotica reached out and wiped the condensation from the mirror so that she could better inspect herself. There were diamonds in the silver collar around her neck, and her skin was slightly bruised with the recent savagery of his desire. She toyed with the collar, the mark of his possession, and her fingers trembled with the depth of her outrage. That outrage was tempered by the unnatural desire that coursed through her every waking moment since her transformation—when she had become a true Lady of the Pleasure Pens. She knew that she was perfect, she knew that she was beautiful, because she had been re-crafted so. Her unflinching beauty was not enough for Kaliban, however. He claimed that she had a wild streak that had not been erased by the techno-scans, that she was defiant and willful, and for those reasons, he was casting her off. She glanced back at him, his magnificent golden form sprawled across the ebony satin of his ornate bed, with its drapes of inky gossamer and black silk that hung from the ceiling. His skin glowed with the illumination of the thousand candles that resided in the skulls that made up the bed’s headboard. His mane of tawny hair glowed with the same gentle illumination, as did the silver rings that pierced his flat male nipples. Had he not been sleeping, she never would have been allowed to gaze upon him so boldly, so openly. So beautiful, she thought, so achingly masculine and beautiful—golden eyelashes lay against his cheeks, covering his cobalt blue eyes. Eyes that could grow so hot with desire … and in turn be so very cold. Her desire for him was complete and had nothing to do with the changes made in her by the techno-mages that worked with and for the Pleasure Pens—their jobs to pump out the most beautiful, the most irresistible succubae and incubi to plague humankind. In an effort to create the ideal sexual being, the techno-mages crafted physical perfection and erased useless emotion with their machines. Exotica took her time and drank her prince with her eyes, growing bolder with each
passing moment, drawing closer to the place where he lay. The Xar skin rug was as soft as satin beneath her feet. She moved over silver and gold studs placed in the floor to receive chains. Her own chains had been removed and lay on the floor by the waterfall, forgotten. Like those chains, Exotica had been discarded. Her desire for him was a feral thing, exciting and possessive. The fact that another would share his bed once she had been ousted sickened her. She was to be cast back down—only just beyond the reach of hundreds of ready “teachers”. She had gained position enough to be able to keep out of most of the games that the elite afforded the lesser demons. Kaliban’s touch, Kaliban’s desire, had opened up another world for her, a world of opulence and intimate delights beyond the sexual servitude of the Pens. Though she had been Kaliban’s noble concubine, his ready possession had freed her from the torturous pleasures of the Pens. She would remain free unless she chose to be otherwise. However, she would no longer have Kaliban, and this outraged, hurt, and confused her— all emotions that the techno-scan should have wiped out in her and had not. “Kaliban,” she whispered softly, and he stirred at the sound of his name but did not waken. She slid into the bed, her first thought to beg him, to plead with him, to allow her to stay. He would like that, and she knew it. Exotica did not beg. Instead, she slid closer to the object of her desire, close enough so that she could drown in the male scent of him. Her hand went to his hard-muscled thigh, and her three-inch ebony fingernails raked a light furrow up the flesh there. She watched his face as her hand slid in the tangled golden mass at his loins. The arch of his tawny eyebrows, the golden fall of lashes that lay on his cheeks, the arrogant tilt of his aquiline nose, and the softness of his perfect lips. His shoulders were wide, his chest marked by the red dragon design that identified him as Crown Prince within the Royal House of Oea. Her gaze slid from the glittering ruby eyes of the dragon to search lower, lingering on that smooth and massive chest with the rings pierced into the flesh of his nipples. And lower still, until she reached the tawny trail of hair that led past his navel and on to the golden thatch that marked his sex. His cock was huge, and she loved looking at it, tasting it, feeling it thrust deep inside the tight wetness of her cunt… Exotica grasped his cock in her hands, relishing the feel of the hot, slick flesh. She pressed her naked breasts against the heat of his chest and felt her nipples harden to stones, the skin drawn taunt and aching, sending a jolt of molten desire careening down her stomach to settle in her cunt. That desire throbbed into a hot liquid ache, and she felt her thighs go moist with her own juices. She stroked his cock softly, feeling his flesh lengthen and harden in her hands. His lips parted, his mouth opening in a soundless sigh as his body responded helplessly to her ministrations. She pressed her lips to his skin, her teeth slightly grazing the golden flesh. She drew her tongue over the place that her teeth had just abandoned, tasting the slight salt flavor of his skin. He was delicious. She stroked him more boldly as her desire began to overwhelm her. She could almost feel the mage-crafted implants rooted in her body going off in key areas, dousing her in a thousand sensations of unadulterated pleasure. Her body shuddered with desire as his hips began to twitch in reaction to what she was doing. She knew she should stop before he woke up, knew that her unnatural mage-bred desire was about to get her in trouble with him … again. Trouble that she could ill afford. But she could not stop. Truthfully, her desire for Kaliban had nothing to do with techno-magic. Her lust for him, her love for him, was her own … and that was the problem. That was where her own will overrode
the implants put within her by the techno-mages. Her kind, Kaliban’s kind, was forbidden the intimacies of love. The techno-scans had been crafted to eradicate such useless emotions. A deep sigh escaped him as her thumb flicked expertly over the tip of his cock. His whole body shuddered vulnerably, and she took a moment to enjoy his helpless reaction. When his eyelids fluttered open, she did not draw away from him, scurry across the bed, and go back to where he had ordered her to stand while he slept. When those ice blue orbs tempered by desire locked on her, she stopped breathing. “Exotica,” he started. His voice was choked, passionate. “Do you enjoy molesting me in my sleep?” She smiled. “Indeed, my prince.” It was obvious it was neither the answer he expected nor one that he particularly liked. He sat up, and she watched the spill of his tawny hair over his shoulders. She flicked the tip of his cock again with her thumb and watched him gasp. His blue gaze darkened with undeniable lust. He leaned into her, pressed his lips against hers. “Why are you still here?” he whispered into her mouth. “I didn’t really expect you to stand in the corner all night, as defiant as you are. I assumed you were going to leave as I have told you that I no longer require your services, my Lady.” His kiss was hard against her mouth, and it sent her senses reeling. He caught her lower lip with his teeth and bit down softly, sending a jolt of need through her so aching and complete that she cried out with its fury. His hand grasped one full breast and toyed with the rose-colored nipple, rolling the tight bit of flesh between his finger and thumb, and Exotica’s cry of choked pleasure turned into a passionate moan. He grasped her hair and drew her head back, drawing his mouth away from hers, dropping stinging, cruel kisses on her flesh until his mouth replaced his hand on the swollen bud of her breast. The nip of his teeth on that sensitive place almost drove her insane. Exotica felt his hand on her thigh, and her first reaction was to recoil from him. Her senses were on overdrive, and she didn’t think she could take any more as his fingers slid higher until he touched the soft lips of her cunt. “Please, Kaliban,” she whispered. His head came up, and he looked directly into her eyes, a sardonic smile playing across his handsome face before he pushed her back on the bed and she was drowning in the black satin sheets. “You started this,” he said, “and I can’t think of a better way for us to part.” He held her down with one hand as the other slid inside the moistness of her cunt, parting the aching lips and teasing the soft nodule of her clit. His devotion to this endeavor was merciless, and when she began thrashing too hard—bucking against him in a frenzy of delight—he casually took the time to press the diamond that was the centerpiece to her collar. The cords that erupted from the collar were a combination of technology and magic. Leather for the most part, they winked with uncanny mage-light. The cords slid down Exotica’s arms of their own accord, fit around her hands at the wrists, and drew them together. All the while, his fingers worked the wetness of her pussy, taking turns teasing the clit and delving deeper inside her. Exotica’s body rocked with helpless spasms at his none-too-gentle probing. And then suddenly, he flipped her over onto her stomach. She felt his body cover hers, the probe of his cock against the round cheeks of her ass. His hair fell over her in a wash, and the masculine scent of him enveloped her completely as
he whispered, “Is this what you want?” “I want you,” she replied. He drew away from her suddenly, and she felt a stinging slap against the flesh of her ass. She gasped with shock and pain. “You cannot have any more than this from me,” he said softly. “Whatever you feel, broken thing, know that I do not … cannot feel it. True enough, none of the royals of Higher Oea are techno-scanned … so maybe I’m just a bastard.” “Then I don’t think that I’m the one who is broken,” Exotica whispered hotly. Several merciless smacks to her backside followed those particular words. He did not stop until Exotica cried out. “You have a lovely ass,” he said and planted a stinging kiss on that hot flesh. She felt the soft pressure of his tongue following the path between the twin cheeks and shuddered at the rush of pleasure that assaulted her. “Then why don’t you want to keep it?” she gasped when she could gather enough wits to speak. She felt his hands on her hips as he lifted her ass up in the air. She felt the warmth of his breath on the wet ball of fire that was her cunt. When he plunged his face into that hot place, she nearly jumped out of his grasp. Another stinging smack on her ass compelled her to at least try to be still. His tongue laved the hot flesh inside her, teasing it, sucking on the tiny inner lips, and diving into the fiery hole. Exotica’s nails dug into the satin sheets, ripping the fine threads apart in her frenzy. His hands left her hips, leaving her the nearly impossible task of supporting herself with her arms bound. His hands found her thighs and shoved them far apart so that he could probe even deeper inside of her. She was enveloped in a world of pulsing fire, her heart racing as her body undulated to match the thrusts of Kaliban’s ferocious hurricane tongue. She uttered a breathless cry of deep distress when he moved away from her and turned her over on her back. Her pussy ached with swollen desire, and when she writhed against him, he drew his hand down across that tender flesh, slapping it twice as if it were a naughty child that needed to be corrected. “You must learn to control yourself, Exotica,” he said with a dark smile. “Had your other emotions been removed properly, you would be able to manage your enhanced libido better. All this moaning and screaming—it’s unseemly for one of your rank and station. You are much like a human woman.” Exotica’s eyes narrowed. “You are cruel, Kaliban,” she said. He grinned in dark amusement. “Yes.” He pulled her arms over her head and pressed his lips against hers in a savage kiss filled with desperate hunger. She could taste the sweet, salty taste of her own hot wetness on his lips and tongue. The scent and flavor drove her wild. She longed to touch him, to run her hands over the sculpted perfection that was his body. He wasn’t having it, however. He touched the diamonds at her collar again, and above her, in the alabaster and glittering gold panels that made up the ceiling, living shadows began to fornicate with wild abandon. Their symphony of lust-filled screams filled the chamber, drowning out her pleasure cries as Kaliban spread her legs and she felt the great mass of his cock on her wet pussy, teasing that hot place, moving away when she sought to wrap her legs around him and force him inside of her. The pulsating music of the passionate scenes that were playing on the ceiling reached
a shrieking crescendo as Kaliban thrust himself inside her, filling all of her with his hard cock. Her body arched to meet his invasion. The design on his chest blazed red-hot, and the jewel-red eyes of the dragon pulsed and throbbed with his passion. Inky wings, dark and leathery, as slick to her experienced touch as the silken flesh of his cock, exploded from his back, and he cried out in rapturous pain. The wings obscured Exotica’s view of the sexual play of the things on the ceiling. She watched his face instead, the dark shadow of rabid desire that pulsated in his dark blue gaze. His massive wings stirred, putting out several of the candles in the skull headboard and dousing some of the light in the chamber, casting them in a shadowy darkness that lay about their twisting forms like velvet. Exotica drew her hands back over her head as Kaliban rearranged himself so that he held her about her back as they lifted from the bed. His cock pulsed inside her as his hands went to cuff the roundness of her ass, driving the cheeks apart and pulling her closer to him. Her arms went around his golden head, hugging him close, trying to meld with him as he thrust his hard cock deep inside her cunt again and again with a relentlessness that bordered on cruelty. She wrapped her legs around his hips in an ultimate, primal gesture of possession. The gossamer and silk curtains danced as he set them vertically in the air, their feet inches from the bed sheets, her body undulating wildly against his, matching his every stoke, demanding more. She barely noticed when they began to move, until she felt the hot waters of the waterfall hitting her aching flesh, and then her back was pressed against the wet, slick stone wall behind the water. Her body jerked against his as she felt the wild waves of the orgasm rising uncontrollably in her. It came from deep within her in a place that only Kaliban could touch. She screamed with the power of it as it rocked her body. She tensed, every muscle, every cell caught in the violent wave of the pleasure that swept through her. He came only a moment after her, and his cry matched her own for ferocity. They spiraled down into the warm water. The dragon design of the Royal House of Oea ceased its violent throbbing on Kaliban’s chest. She had satiated him, Exotica mused. She had never failed to satisfy him. And the Incubus Prince was hard to sate. Before he had selected her as his private pleasure thing, he had run through three and four succubae a night—and those sexual endeavors did not include his quota of human women. She leaned against the glittering gems and alabaster stones that made up the pool’s walls as Kaliban stood and turned his back to her in the flowing waterfall. She wanted desperately to say something to him as she watched his inky black wings fold in on themselves as his body reabsorbed them into the flesh of his back. Her gaze slid to his hard-muscled ass, and her techno-altered body reacted to the delicious sight. Her swollen nipples hardened against the warm water that surrounded her. She wanted nothing more than to tell him about the confusing multitude of emotions that were flowing through her. Love, yes—the love he would mock coming from her. But the anger, she suspected that the anger would shock him. The static sound of the Com disrupted her contemplation of the confusing, abnormal emotions flowing through her … and Kaliban’s sculpted ass. She recognized the altered voice that echoed through the chamber, and her skin crawled. “Prince Kaliban, I have urgent news,” the voice said. “We have found him.” Exotica heard a low snarl erupt from Kaliban. He was enraged suddenly; his body
shook with the ire of that singular emotion. “Leave the collar on the bed,” he said dismissively as he stepped out of the pool. Exotica’s hand went to the familiar collar around her neck, and she heard the electronic clasp on the thing give. It hung loosely at her throat, open, its circle of possession shattered. She could remove it now. Blood red tears welled up in her eyes as she stood up. The collar fell into the water at her feet to mingle with the jewels and stones within the pool. She knelt and picked it up, its weight strange and hateful in her hands.
Chapter Two Exotica heard the ornate gold and silver-metal doors to Kaliban’s bedchamber open. Duke Uriel of Upper Oea stalked into the chamber. He was a slender man, and tall. A dark mass of silken ebony curls adorned his head. His eyes were a startling emerald and framed by long sooty black lashes. A long silk cape—the blood red color of the Royal House of Oea—trailed behind him. His glittering green eyes locked on Exotica where she stood in the pool. A cruel smile curved his sensually carved lips as his gaze ravished her body and then locked on the broken collar in her hands. His cruel smile widened into a grin. “Lady Exotica,” the Duke said with a slight bow. “Exotica,” Kaliban said coldly. He was sliding into an inky black cloak. Neither his eyes nor his mind were on her. He was watching Duke Uriel intently. “Leave … now.” Exotica clutched the collar in her hand and stepped from the crystal waters of the pool. The chamber was suddenly icy cold around her, but she was burning up under the heavy weight of Duke Uriel’s regard. She took a moment to gaze at him, running her eyes over the familiar planes and angles of his handsome face. Duke Uriel was infamous among the denizens of the Pleasure Pens. Succubae and incubi had been known to disappear after spending a night in his bed. Exotica met his emerald gaze boldly. Had she still been Kaliban’s possession, it would have been a terrible, unforgivable thing for her to do. But Kaliban had abandoned her. Her unnatural emotions held her completely in their thrall. She surrendered to them—rage being the predominant one. She let her gaze drop suddenly to the Duke’s feet, taking in the granor-skinned boots that slid up his thighs. Her gaze roamed over his hard-muscled legs and stopped boldly at the bulge in his crotch, and she was pleased to see it rise beneath the heat of her stare. His ivory shirt beneath the blood red robe was open at his pale chest. She saw the lesser mark of Higher Oea there, the dragon on the design smaller, less menacing. The eyes of the smaller dragon glittered diamonds instead of rubies, and they winked with the stirrings of Uriel’s desire. “Duke Uriel,” she said, forcing pleasure into her voice. She inclined her head in obeisance to his rank and position. “I see you’ve already chosen your new mate, Exotica,” Kaliban said darkly. “Uriel’s dangerous, you know.” The Duke chuckled at that, and Exotica’s skin crawled. “What do you care, Kaliban?” she asked softly. “I don’t,” he said casually. “I was merely making an observation.” “For your information, your Highness,” she said, crossing the chamber and snatching up the satin robe she’d been wearing when she’d come to him that night, “I have made no such choice.” “Then perhaps I’ll make it for you,” he said, his voice like ice. “As is my right.” She fled the chamber then, sliding into the robe as the twin doors to the prince’s bedchamber slid close behind her, without sparing another glance at either man. She leaned against the chamber doors, ignoring the gaping guard placed there for Kaliban’s
protection. The spiraling halls of Upper Oea spread out before her and seemed to go on endlessly. The amethyst walls pulsed with unnatural fire from within, lending a purple tone to the golden hallways. The spiraling ceilings of its dozen districts were high enough to take her breath away, and beyond the embroidered frames of a thousand glass panes, she could see the flawless satin blackness beyond Oea: the No Thing, the lifeless void that existed beyond their world. Exotica stumbled down the hallway, wiping the crimson tears from her eyes with a knuckled fist. Brron’sh, she thought, using the foulest curse she knew in Old Oea. Roughly translated, it was the human term son-of-a-bitch… Blindfolded, naked slaves, both male and female, decorated the hallways like living statues. Placed there by their various Masters, the slaves writhed in varying degrees of bondage. Their soft pleading moans and desperate grunts filled her ears as she moved past. As was her habit, she stood close enough so that a few of them could rub their aching flesh against her. It was a mercy she had learned to give after suffering such torture herself at the whim of various Masters. She understood well the horrible frustration of the creatures that moaned and pressed themselves against her, seeking the barest touch of her soft flesh. She smacked gently at an outthrust cock, teased a pierced dark-tipped breast. She leaned into the hard male body of a particularly pretty love slave who was tied to an ivory column, his arms behind his back, his legs spread apart and chained to the ground. She pressed her lips against the fullness of his desperate, seeking mouth and bid herself to forget about Kaliban. She felt the frantic tongue in her mouth, dueling with hers but reasonably obedient in gratitude for the sexual attention. He didn’t want to offend her, she knew. He didn’t want her to go away and leave him to suffer. He leaned into her and tried to devour her mouth, straining against his chains. His Master had been particularly cruel, and Exotica wondered for the barest instant what he had done to deserve it. His cock was covered in a rough animal skin sheath, and leather was used to secure it tightly to his hips. The feel of the material had to be maddening. A draknar tormentor had been employed to stimulate him constantly, arousing him yet offering no release. The diminutive morphing creature had a body that burned with the constant heat of candle wax on warm flesh. It throbbed, its slick, wet body pulsing with its own slow heartbeat. Exotica drew away from the kiss as the love slave gasped and then shuddered with a pleasure that rocked his whole body. She leaned around him to see that the draknar had hardened its body into a shaft. Its tiny hands spread the love slave’s ass cheeks enough to allow its rounded head entrance. A terrible cry of utter need issued from the lips of the love slave, and Exotica knew from experience that what was happening to him now had happened to him before and would happen again, for the draknar was relentless. It would drive him to the very brink and then simply stop when it sensed that he was close to orgasm. Sympathy drove her as she pressed her lips to his again and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her body reacted to the lustful position she was putting herself in, but she ignored it as best she could in favor of sparing this one slave his suffering. She pulled herself up, using his neck as a brace until she settled on his hips. She felt the length of him, hampered by the sheath, sandwiched between the lips of her hot sex. Thusly
mounted, she opened her robe enough to press her breasts against the warmth of his chest. She began to move up and down with slow deliberation. He gasped and tried to pull away so that he could reposition himself and thrust inside her. She smacked him lightly across the face. “If your Master’s not watching this right now, he or she will be watching it soon enough,” she said, reminding him through his lust of the Vid-screens scattered throughout the labyrinthine hallways. Usually, the Vidscreens played the sensual dreams of sleeping humanity across their shiny silver surfaces, but the monitors could be turned inward, too, on Oea. She wrapped her legs around him tightly and smiled as he whimpered. “I can help you,” she whispered and jerked her body upwards again, suddenly creating a terrible friction on the cock captured between the lips of her cunt. “Oh, please, Mistress,” he moaned with lips swollen from her kisses, his body jerking against hers as if a powerful current were running through it. Exotica bit his chin softly as she undulated against him, tasted the soft spot just beneath his chin and then his slick, hard chest. His Master would make a complaint, she knew, as she closed her mouth around his flat male nipple and sucked hard, but the complaint could only go so far as she had not taken the slave and actually coupled with him. Still, there would be repercussions for the boldness of her actions. In truth, she simply didn’t care. Unbidden thoughts of Kaliban began to swim in her mind as the sheath on the slave’s cock bristled against her sensitive, swollen clit. Lust stirred from deep within her, but her own lust was not what she had come to satisfy, and so she fought it, taming its raging inferno into a dull, aching fire within her, concentrating on giving pleasure to the slave. The love slave jerked hard against her as he came, his whole body rocking with the power of his orgasm. “I’m sorry,” he said as she climbed off of him. He sounded afraid. Exotica smiled and patted his face gently. He flinched from her touch, expecting pain. Suddenly, she wondered what color his eyes were beneath the silken black blindfold. Were they like Kaliban’s, as blue as the cerulean oceans she saw in the dreams of the humans upon whom she sometimes slaked her lust? She longed to snatch the blindfold away. “Are you from Middle or Lower Oea, slave?” she asked softly. “Middle, Mistress.” She kissed him then, knowing that his term of servitude would end and that he would be returned to his family. Only those born in Lower Oea remained slaves forever. Exotica turned to see a man standing in the hallway, the doors to his opulent chambers opened, another witness to her slight infraction along with the Vid-screens. And from the bulge in his silken under drawers, he had watched the entire deed. “More,” the love slave whispered hotly from behind her. Exotica ignored him, hurrying up the streets of the Crown District of Upper Oea, her robe clutched tightly about her. Golden mage light assaulted her eyes as she came upon the maze of the Garden District. Myriad plants rose in spires over her head. The walls of foliage around her came in every shape and tone, from stunning silver to the deepest blood red. Some plants had been artistically sculpted into lithe, humanoid figures. In bizarre still life, the figures gave the illusion of sensual motion as they stood by streaming pools of stunning blue water.
The maze seemed deserted, and Exotica sat by one of its crystalline pools and stared into the waters that were the same shade as Kaliban’s eyes and sulkily hated him. The collar hung limply from her hands, and she thought about throwing it into the water. Her fingers toyed with the diamonds that Kaliban had used so frequently to command and bind her. A diamond responded to her questing touch, sliding back into the collar with a resonant click. A voice crackled lowly from within the band. In such a way Kaliban had called her in her chambers when he was ready to play. “I want him dead, Uriel,” Kaliban said, his voice low and icy. “If your father finds out, he will be handing out executions for all, cousin,” Uriel said. “Rumor has it, he was extremely fond of that human woman. He was equally fond of their half-breed progeny.” Kaliban’s voice was a low, animalistic growl. “Have him killed, Uriel. I’d do it myself, but he is my brother after all.” Exotica gasped, her mind working overtime in order to comprehend what she was hearing. She stared at the collar in her hands as if it were suddenly a monstrous and terrible beast. Kaliban had a brother? There was another prince of the realm? It was impossible, wasn’t it? Kaliban’s position as the future king of Oea had been certain since the moment of his birth. She glanced around furtively, making sure there was no one else to hear the horrible revelations that were coming to her ears. The garden stood still around her, the trees blowing in a slight wind from the powerful fans embedded in the walls. A Vid-screen floated casually by her. On it, a human woman was being impaled on the phalluses of three incubi. She had one cock in her mouth, another in her cunt, and one in her ass. She was working hard to satisfy them all. “I have no problem engineering the destruction of your … brother,” Uriel said. “Your problem is my price.” Kaliban sighed. “I have no desire to sleep with you, Uriel,” he said. “You really should stop asking. It’s getting old.” “I’d let you do anything you wanted to me,” Uriel said softly, hopefully. There was a hitch in his voice, and Exotica could tell that the longing in it was almost as old as he was. “No,” Kaliban said with finality. The cold mockery inherent in the silken timber of his words hinted at his amusement. “Fine,” Uriel said sulkily, “I’ll have the female, then. Exotica.” “What makes you think she’ll have you?” Kaliban said, sounding amused. “She only looked at you the way that she did to get a reaction from me. Exotica is of Middle Oea, the last Lady of the House of Copper, as you well know. Her days of just being had as a Pleasure Pen plaything are done.” “Unless ordered by the King. The King you will be in one week when your father hands over the crown to the only son he believes he has left,” Uriel said nastily. “You told her yourself, Kaliban. ‘As is my right,’ you said. You could give her to me now, but I am willing to wait until your position as king is secured. I’ll have her or I’ll have you and nothing less to see the deed done.” “I could always kill my brother myself,” Kaliban said, his voice dangerous. Uriel laughed. “The price of getting caught is awfully high, isn’t it? That’s why you
involved me in the first place. Should your mutt of a brother die by the hand of one of my innumerable minions, your father will be none the wiser as to the method of his death. If you kill him, he’ll smell you on the body. I cannot imagine the price you’d pay for killing the only child of his beloved runaway human. And why are we arguing about this anyway? You cannot tell me you actually care about the little bitch? I know she’s warmed your bed for over a year with little of anything else as a distraction…” Exotica heard the sounds of a muffled struggle that was over with very quickly. “Let me go,” Uriel said softly. The excitement in his voice rode through the layer of pain in it. His breathing came in quick, desperate pants. “You tempt me to do terrible things, cousin,” Kaliban said reflectively. “I just don’t know if I could stop short of killing you.” “I can think of no better way to die,” Uriel choked defiantly. Exotica heard a painful grunt and the thud of someone hitting the floor. “You’re too cruel, Kaliban,” Uriel panted. “I thought I had you that time.” “Where is he?” “California. His mother employed a witch and took great magical care to hide him from your father—he does not dream. He has no idea of his true nature, and whatever powers he may have are latent from his dealings with humanity. I found him purely by luck and happenstance in the fantasy of a human woman whose bed I frequent. Recently, he has attained some level of fame in the human world. You should see him, Kaliban. It is only a matter of time before your father’s spies find him now.” “Have your assassins pay my brother a visit,” Kaliban said. “And in a week?” A moment passed, a moment in which Exotica held her breath. “Exotica is yours. I need your talents and connections too much to kill you, Uriel, and I’d kill you if I touched you.” “Bastard,” Uriel hissed, and Kaliban chuckled darkly as the collar fell from Exotica’s shaking hands into the waters of the pool.
Chapter Three Cambion St. Michael drew the slight, blonde woman in his arms closer and pressed his lips against her ear as the low music throbbed through the grand ballroom. He was satisfied when she shuddered against him, her body molding to his. His hands slid across her ass, lingering for a moment on the material of the clinging silk dress she wore, feeling the frilly lace of her panties through the sheer cloth. He felt himself go instantly hard at the contact and knew she felt it, too, because a little gasp escaped her and her soft brown eyes widened as she looked up at him. “Lovely party, Michelle,” he said, hotly. She blushed, the color rushing over her pale skin, casting it in a pleasant rosy glow. “How could it be anything else?” she said. “You’re here, Cambion. That was a hell of a cover you did for A Pirate’s Woman. It just made us both rich, in fact.” “You’re the artist, Michelle. All this is because of you.” “Artist, my ass,” she said, with a silvery laughter that he had come to like. “Trust me, it doesn’t hurt that you’re absolutely stunning. How I was lucky enough to find you roaming wild in the cornfields of Indiana, I’ll never know.” Cambion shifted uncomfortably in her arms as he felt someone watching him. His eyes scanned the opulent ballroom and came to rest on the hulking form of a man so big he took up all the available space in the doorway in which he stood. The man wore dark glasses, and his tuxedo didn’t seem to quite fit, bulging muscles trapped and tortured within the material. With every step that Cambion made across the marble-veined dance floor, the man’s head turned and followed him intensely. It occurred to him that he was actually paranoid, that the immensity of the crowd had set his nerves on edge and he was imagining the man’s intentions, but then the man removed his glasses and black eyes locked onto him with cold calculation. A shudder went through him just as he caught the same chill sensation from another part of the room and turned toward it. He was becoming used to being stared at. It made him slightly uncomfortable, something he willingly admitted to Michelle when she chastised him about how silly it was to feel that way considering his profession. “People are going to look at you, Cambion,” she’d told him over and over again. “It comes with the job.” But not like this. The second gaze was undeniably as unrepentantly cold as the first. The intensity of the combined stares went beyond simple appreciation or even lust. It was something … else … something dark and malignant. What the hell? “There’s another party at my house later,” Michelle whispered. “This one’s private … just you and me. Cambion?” He felt her fingers caress the flesh of his chin. Her other hand slid between them to grasp his cock through the heavy material of his pants. “I would like your attention.” He looked down at her pale, heart-shaped face and big brown eyes the color of chocolate. “Sure,” he said as the electric jolt of the sensual contact went through him. Instant lust competed with the unnerving edge the man in the doorway caused in him. The subtle hint of some strange perfume that did not belong to the woman he held in his arms reached his nose. He inhaled the faint scent deeply and the spot on his chest just
below the shoulder burned furiously from the deliciousness of the smell—something that only happened when he was completely turned on, which he was not. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked, looking in the direction that had so captured his attention. “Got your eyes on another woman?” “No,” he said reassuringly, “nothing like that. There are just too many people here.” She sighed, exasperated. “We’re not back to that, are we? I thought you were done with brooding solitude. I thought you were having a good time. You said this was a nice party.” “As far as parties go.” He was torn, actually. He was not used to big crowds, and the life he’d lived before he’d met Michelle had been relatively staid. In the two years he’d spent in the sunny hills of California modeling for various romance covers, his popularity had risen, and with it came volumes of parties and people, screaming fans desperate for a glimpse of their latest romance hero in the flesh. He looked down into her pretty, concerned, and slightly irritated face. He didn’t want to upset her. She had been too good to him. And it was certainly not her fault that he was bored. He didn’t love her, but he did genuinely like her. Sex with her was nice—but it was missing something, and although he didn’t know what that something was, he knew that she didn’t have it. “Forget it,” he said, brushing a kiss across her pretty pink lips. “I just need a minute. I’ll be right back.” “You’d better be,” she said softly. Cambion made his way through the crowd, taking time to acknowledge those who spoke to him on the way. He opened the French balcony doors and stepped out into the starless blue-purple night. He closed the doors behind him, relishing the silence. He strolled past empty tables layered in satin to the wrought iron bars that shielded the balcony, and looked down to the dark blue waters of the rolling ocean below. He took a deep breath of the fresh, clean ocean air and wondered what it would take to convince Michelle to forgo the rest of the party in favor of the far more interesting and private one she had promised to hold at her house. He heard the balcony doors open behind him and the click of high heels on the floor. He assumed that Michelle had followed him, but the strange, intoxicating perfume that drifted to his nostrils was definitely not Michelle’s. There was jasmine and something else, too, some dark, compelling musk that he could not identify. He recognized it as the scent he had caught in the ballroom. “Look at me,” a soft, sultry voice demanded. The sound went directly to his loins. His cock was suddenly straining against his pants again, this time with a ferocity that startled him. He turned to her, and his intake of breath at gazing upon her was savage. Standing before him, draped in a sheer hooded black robe that was almost nonexistent, was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She drew the hood back, exposing long, straight ebony hair that fell about her in a raven waterfall. Wickedly arched eyebrows stood over eyes that were the color of luminous gold. Her full lips were painted red and set on pale, flawless skin. Her full breasts, barely covered by thin strips of black leather, led down to a tiny waist. Her hips were full and round and long, sensual legs ended in tiny feet clothed in impossible stilettos that were laced all the way up to her thighs, the open-toed shoes giving him a glimpse of toes painted black. The startled look she was giving him was almost comical in its intensity, as if she
could not believe what she saw. “It’s not possible,” she said softly. That voice, Cambion thought. God, that voice… “What’s not possible?” he forced himself to ask. She ignored his question. “What is your name?” “Cambion.” She smiled. “How … appropriate. Do you know what a Cambion is? What the word means?” She stepped closer to him until there were only inches separating their bodies. The scent of her perfume filled his nostrils until he couldn’t smell anything else but her. He felt high off that scent, as if he had taken potent drugs, and the effect was that he could not move so enthralled was he with the creature that stood before him. She reached out one finger, and he noticed that her nails were incredibly long and black, almost claws. “A Cambion is the half-breed child of an Incubus and a human woman,” she breathed. Cambion smiled at the ridiculousness of the statement, but his smile faltered under the intense weight of her gaze. “Very interesting. And what the hell is an incubus?” he asked. She was closer still, gazing at him with unabashed wonder tempered with some darker emotion that was a cross, in his estimation, between anger and lust. Those long, dangerous fingernails reached out and scraped across his chin. The contact sent a shudder of unadulterated lust through him, and he gasped with the incredible pleasure of it. “An incubus is a sexual demon,” she said. “Their kind dwells in the colossal Palace of Oea in the midst of a vast and unrelenting blackness.” Her body fit against his. He wanted to touch her, but he didn’t dare. He thought she might dissolve back into the delusion that had spawned her. The aching hardness of his cock pressed into the very real warmth of her stomach. Her breasts flattened against his chest, where they seemed to burn though his clothing. Her nipples were as hard as stones against him. She leaned into him and pressed her full, soft lips against his. The pressure of her mouth was demanding. He wanted nothing more than to taste her, and he returned the kiss with as much insistence as she gave. Her honeyed tongue dueled with his for dominance. His hands strayed to the satin flesh of her waist, and he pulled her to him. There was a moment when she tried to fight him and he adjusted his kiss to compensate, drawing her closer until he felt the tension go out of her body and she melted into him. She ravaged his mouth with a feral intensity, her hands straying to his hair and grasping the locks. She pulled—hard—and the slight pain spurred him to kiss her more deeply, wanting nothing more than to drive her to the ground and take her right there on the balcony floor while the party went on in the room behind them. She was beyond excitement, beyond anything else he had ever experienced before, and the place on his shoulder burned so hot that he wanted to scream out from the pain of it. Cambion could not remember being so hot. He felt as if he had a fever and she was the thing to douse the fire that threatened to burn him alive from the inside out. His hands went to the velvet skin at her waist and he pulled her closer. He got a soft moan from her for his effort. Suddenly, she pulled away from him. Her amber eyes flashed with anger. “You are not to touch me unless I tell you that you can,” she said. “What?” “You will learn,” she said. “A twin. How did our king manage this, I wonder? I cannot tell the difference between you save that Kaliban has never kissed me with such
… intensity of emotion.” Cambion was beginning to think that—if she was real—this scantily clad, utterly sensual woman was completely crazy. The question he was asking himself over and over again was, did he care? Her nails tugged at the button on his dinner jacket, and when that came open, the tiny black button skittering to the ground at their feet, she began slicing the ivory buttons off his shirt. He stood still beneath her ministrations, something between shock and lust checking him. He barely breathed as she slid his shirt open, her palms grazing his rippled stomach muscles, causing them to jump in hot anticipation. She placed her full red lips on the places that she touched with her hands, and her mouth blazed a trail up his chest. His breathing came in shallow pants that he couldn’t quite control. Her fingers passed over the place on his chest that burned when he was aroused, and the inferno that her touch inspired caused him to gasp out loud in pain. When her tongue touched that place, he shuddered and cried out. “No mark,” she said. “But your power rests there. I can feel it. We just have to awaken it. I must make you revel in what you are, take you to the fiery brink of the firestorm that is desire, where you will either be reforged or burned alive. This will prove interesting, depending on how resistant you are to training. I can promise you a kingdom in exchange. What do you say, Cambion? We do not have much time. Your assassins are here.” His muddled mind lingered on one word. Training. And then she pressed her breasts up against his bare chest. The heat of the contact was electric. He pushed her away gently so that he could think beyond her overwhelming carnal presence. “Look, lady,” he said finally, “I haven’t really understood anything you’ve said. Individual words I’m catching, but when you string those sentences together…” She looked pointedly at his bulging crotch. “Part of you understood me perfectly.” The growl that came from him was of utter frustration. He wanted her so bad he could almost taste her; in his twenty-eight years of life, he had never wanted anything more. The music swelled suddenly from within the party, and the strange woman began to dance, her pale body twisting in the moonlit night. It was a slow dance, soft, sultry, her hips moving in time with the whisper of music. Slowly, her arms rose over her head, her eyes on him, devouring him with their terrible amber heat. “Say yes,” she whispered. There was a demand in that whisper, along with excitement and some dark amusement he couldn’t quite grasp. “You really don’t have any choice, Cambion,” she said. “I’m teasing you because it’s fun and you … remind me of someone.” He couldn’t stop watching her undulating hips as the tempo of the music increased. He almost missed the lights as they flickered once and then went totally off, casting the party into darkness. The French doors shattered inward, and the high-pitched, terrified screaming of people inside the ballroom intensified. “Michelle,” Cambion whispered as the hulking man who had been watching him at the party stepped from the doors, two others flanking him. With her back to the approaching thugs, the woman tossed the hood over her head and launched herself at Cambion. He raised his arms to ward her off when she plowed into him, an insane, determined smile on her preternaturally beautiful face. He stumbled back and then toppled off the balcony.
He twisted in the empty, open air over the gulfing ocean below him. He would have screamed, but he could not catch enough air. He free-fell for what seemed like forever, and the thick gray rocks in the water below rushed up to meet him. He saw quick, shutterlike images of his life dance before his eyes. Mostly, he had been inexplicably bored. Life had always seemed to lack a certain luster for him. There was always something he yearned for that was beyond ordinary excitements, some inexplicable thing he’d thought he’d never find. He wasn’t bored now. He cursed the irony. He felt arms wrap around his waist, and then he wasn’t falling anymore. He looked up to find her. Huge wings stood out on her back, flapping gently in the thin wind of the night, both inky and blood red in places. “Is it wrong for me to tell you,” she breathed, “that your fear excites me?”
Chapter Four The memory of passing out was fuzzy in Cambion’s mind. The impossible, beautiful thing that had held him had careened to lofty altitude in the jet-black sky. He recalled having to struggle for breath as she rose to spiraling heights and the ground below him wavered, the tiny landscape seeming lost and minute to his bulging eyes. The blackness had come as he first spied the white half-crest of the moon through a series of dull gray clouds. There were hands on his flesh, many hands, kneading, stroking, and applying some thick, oily substance that smelled of sandalwood. It occurred to him that he was completely naked as the hands went about their meticulous work. And that he had a raging erection. “What the fuck?” he growled, tried to sit up … and couldn’t. His hands were bound, he realized, raised above his head and caught tight so that he could not move them without doing some harm to himself. There was something tight and body temperature warm clamped around his throat. His legs had been pulled apart and bound. His eyes shot open to a filmy, sleek blackness. “Be still,” a familiar silken voice commanded. He turned his head in the direction of the voice, his mind filling with the memories of the whisper of her bat-like wings on the night air and the sight of her long inky black claws. “I’m in hell,” he whispered. Her laughter was a deep and throaty compelling thing, genuinely amused. “You are in the Pleasure Pens of Oea. Trust that you belong here, Cambion. Trust me to show you the way to the throne. The only thing I ask in return is my freedom.” “I don’t understand,” Cambion said carefully as he felt the hands sliding up his chest, teasing his flat male nipples with the infernal oil. The feeling was pleasurable, but fear far outweighed enjoyment in his mind despite the throbbing in his cock. Oea, she had told him before she had kissed him, existed in a vast sea of fathomless blackness. He hadn’t believed her. He’d thought her crazy. That was before he’d seen her sprout wings and fly. The pressure of the hands increased on his thighs, across the muscles of his stomach. He felt a hand slide between his legs, underneath his balls to caress the crack there before slipping inside that place and applying the oil. His body jerked instinctively away from the gentle, probing fingertips. An overwhelming humiliation burned in him, and with it came rage. “Release me,” he demanded. She laughed. There was genuine amusement in the sound, but beneath it was an undertone he didn’t like … of excitement and danger. “No,” she said simply, then she clapped her hands together and those fingers that teased and tormented his flesh fell away from him at her command. “Get out,” he heard her say. The whisper of naked feet clamoring against smooth, wet stone assaulted his ears until he heard a door open and close. He felt hands on his skin again. Her hands. They teased the flesh just above his navel, the long, wicked nails carving smooth grooves in the oil set upon his skin. “You’re going to have to learn to obey me,” she said. “When I tell you to be still or to be quiet,
you should simply do it. Otherwise, I will be forced to consider … repercussions. It is a human saying that you must crawl before you can walk, Cambion. I am here to teach you to crawl.” “Look, lady…” Cambion began, trying desperately to take the anger out of his voice, to reason with this creature that held him helpless and captive. “That is my title, yes,” she whispered. Her mouth hovered just above his. He could feel the scrape of her lips against the silk of the cloth that obscured her from his view. “My name is Exotica. Say it.” His mouth clamped shut as if of its own accord, something defiant in him refusing to give her the pleasure. The rational part of him considered his supreme helplessness—the fact the he couldn’t even move anything except for his head. He felt the seeking pressure of her lips against the cloth, and the softness stirred something deep within him. A spark of excitement swelled in his breast. The undeniable electricity of that spark didn’t make any sense to him. He was probably going to die—if he wasn’t already dead—but he was excited beyond belief. Feeling the terrible duality of sensations, of exhilaration and dread, he turned his face away from her. “You’re going to defy me, aren’t you?” she whispered. Her breath smelled of roses warmed by the sun. “Why do you think you can? You are in the Pleasure Pens of Oea. No slave here has the right to defiance.” “I am not a slave,” Cambion growled finally. “Aren’t you?” she whispered. There was laughter in her voice. The sound was maddening to his ears, as if she was the one that was making all the sense and he was a slow child who just didn’t get it. “Didn’t your mother tell you anything about what spawned you?” she asked. Her hand slid lower on his body, trailing across his navel and toying with the golden hairs that marked his loins. A slow fire erupted in his belly, and he felt his cock swell with need until it felt as if it would burst. “No, I imagine she wouldn’t have. She obviously wanted what is human in you to will out.” She grasped his cock in her hand. “Say my name, Cambion.” The spasm from the contact ran through him like hot electric fire. His hips thrust up into her palm, seeking more contact. His shame angered him. He closed his eyes beyond the veil of blackness and reminded himself that anger would get him nowhere with her, whatever she was. She was toying with him, and there was some bizarre reasoning behind it. If he could only understand those reasons, he could figure out a way to help himself. The sooner the better, because even though she hadn’t hurt him he sensed a promise of pain in her voice, her touch, her every breath, that made him distinctly nervous. “Exotica,” he gasped as her fingers strayed up the length of his cock to the tip. “Was that so hard?” she asked, squeezing the tip of his cock between her fingers, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to get his undivided attention. He thought he might explode with pent up energy and pressure as his cock rocked between her skillful fingertips. “No,” he admitted through clenched teeth as her thumb began to flick across the head of his dick with punishing intensity. The first pain was minimal; the shock, however, caused him to curse and jerk against his bonds. A panicked stream of confusion raced through his mind as the slow, rhythmic thrashing slowly increased in pain. “I might allow you to address me by my name again sometime,” she said
reflectively, “but for now you will address me as Lady. Understand?” “You are absolutely out of your fucking mind if you think…” Cambion began, before a tremble of pain so great that it took his breath away raced through his cock from her torturous, cruel fingers. His body bent into the pain, trying to absorb it, to take it in before it had a chance to grow. The place on his chest blazed white-hot, and the combined pain threatened to consume him. He felt her fingers at his head, and the hood was suddenly snatched away from him. The reality of the bizarre situation came to him as the darkness fell away, and for the first time, he was sure that he was not in the midst of some uncanny dream. Though he had nothing to compare it to, Cambion was fairly certain that in his wildest imaginings he could never come up with anything as unreal as the room that spread out before him. “The hood was necessary while the slaves prepared you,” she said softly. “The Prince must not know that you are here, or we are both lost.” Cambion barely heard her. The chamber was huge and draped in the light of flickering white-yellow torches embedded in the wall, the smoke of their fires spiraling to a high ceiling of jagged amethyst stone. Purple-tinted waters fell from the stones to a floor that was liquid beneath the feet of the strange, beautiful woman who held him captive. He was aware of the glittering amber tones of her eyes watching his face intently, judging his reaction to what he was seeing. The stroke of her hand had become kind, if not a little demanding, as it slowly traveled the length of his cock with a slow, sultry motion that threatened to drive him insane. Her attention sent wave after wave of pleasure flowing through the flesh, confusing the previously tortured head of his dick and sending wild, mixed signals of pleasure-pain through his body until he had to bite his lower lip to keep from crying out. And still he could not stop marveling at the alien world that he had come to. Blue-veined statues in cool white marble lay embedded in the walls, their twisting forms indiscriminately reaching with marble hands, mouths, and phalluses for the forms nearest them. Eyes closed, mouths opened in soundless screams of passion, they bombarded his shocked gaze with fornications beyond his imaginings. Some of these creatures were only vaguely human; winged and clawed, they savaged the creatures around them. Huge members impaled every open hole available; gaping cunts demanded satisfaction as they rutted in panel after panel on the wall. “Where am I?” he asked in horrific awe, even though he already knew the answer she would give him. He was in Oea, of course, trapped in a sea of fathomless black, and for some reason she had chosen him as her slave. He didn’t know exactly what that meant, what the terms of slavery to her implied. Though he hated to admit it to himself, Cambion tasted fear. “Who … am I?” she asked reasonably enough. “Exotica,” he answered. She frowned, distinctly displeased. Her hand stopped stroking his cock, and she reached for his throat—the thing that was placed tightly across the flesh there. He heard an impossible shifting of mechanical gears, and then suddenly his legs were free. Before he could do anything about that unexpected bit of freedom, he felt cords sliding down his arms to his wrists and he was jerked up into a sitting position.
“That was the wrong answer, Cambion,” she said with an exasperated sigh. “You have a great deal of crawling to do before you can walk, I see.” She smiled, but Cambion felt no amusement as a hard glint stole into her eyes. “I was trained by the best Master Oea has to offer. You can be assured that I will do what needs to be done. We will begin.” * Exotica watched him thrash as he was lifted into the air by the bonds that held his wrists together. The kicking, she knew, would do him more ill than good—putting undue strain on his arms. She marveled at the magnificence of his face and form, the slick muscles of his legs as they thrashed in the air, seeking purchase. She even liked his voice as he cursed her. So like Kaliban, yet not like him at all … this beautiful half-human creature. There was a part of her that pitied him as he hung there, screeching and twisting the muscles of his arms into knots that would have to be painstakingly massaged out later. But she knew that she could not afford pity in this venture. Cambion had to learn, and he had to learn fast. She had to awaken the dark cravings in him that were his incubus side. Unless that dark side was awakened, he would have no chance against Kaliban and they would both be lost. She had thought, when she first spied him and became mesmerized by his intoxicatingly familiar male beauty, to simply present him to his father, thereby gaining the king’s gratitude and freeing herself from slavery to the nefarious Duke. But she had no doubt that Kaliban would find a way to kill his weak human-raised brother before Cambion learned how to defend himself. And besides that—that wholly rational, utterly sensible reason for keeping him to herself—she wanted him. She could admit that. It wasn’t that he looked so much like Kaliban—identical save for the piercings and the royal design. It had been that kiss … that delicious, tantalizing kiss on that lonely balcony over the sea. Her nipples had hardened when their lips touched. There was so much passion in him. It had matched hers, and then his hunger had consumed her. She could sense the demon in him, the side of him that he had been denying for so long that it had become natural for him to ignore it, to tame it down and make it conform to the human world. He did it without even realizing because he thought himself a human. But that kiss… Her eyes closed at the memory. It was not the kiss of a human male, but something infinitely more powerful, and yet it held a human male’s intensity of emotion… She had never been kissed like that before, so thoroughly, with so much relentless desire. There had been more than simple lust in Cambion’s kiss … so many flickering emotions combined with the power that she knew rested within his breast. It had been a heady sensation, utterly intoxicating. She craved more of it. She watched reason replace panic in him. He relaxed against his bonds, easing some of the pressure on his arms. His cerulean gaze found hers, and his eyes sparkled with ire. “What game is this?” he asked from between clenched teeth. “This is not a game,” Exotica said. “It is a lesson.” She watched her words register in the deep blue of his eyes, and his gaze became wary. “What are you going to do to me?” he asked. “Whatever I want,” she said, bluntly. “You belong to me, Cambion. You must be made to understand that.”
A dozen emotions warred in his face at her words. His erection stood out hard against his slick, naked flesh. There was a part of him that was enjoying this, despite the fury of his objections, despite his fear, despite the pain of being suspended in the air by his arms. That excited her because she understood it. She moved toward him, not really sure what she was going to do, but certain that he needed to be taught to obey her—his life and her own depended on it. She ran her hand across the smooth marble slab upon which he had rested, and it slid into the floor at her feet, soon covered by the purple waters in the chamber. “Sje’cava-jinn,” she whispered in Old Oea to the collar she had placed about Cambion’s throat. She wanted to touch him, and the whisper came from her lips harsher than she had intended. He flinched just a little. Obeying the command, the mechanisms in the collar began to whirl, and the cord by which Cambion was suspended from the ceiling began to descend. He slid downward to her until his toes barely scraped the flowing amethyst waters. Then he slid into the floor, and she couldn’t help but smile at the shock and disbelief that crossed his handsome face. The floor melded beneath his feet and then solidified again to hold him tight. She touched his chest and felt his heartbeat racing underneath his skin. She grasped the hardness of one male nipple—the one that lay beneath the spot where his royal design would be—and twisted that tiny pebble of flesh hard. He gasped, and his cock jumped against her stomach. She pressed her lips against his, her free hand sliding behind his head to hold it still while twisting her fingers in the thick golden locks. The kiss was rough, and she took what she wanted from him. She felt the scrape of his teeth against his lower lip, and she wondered what he might do as he thrashed against her in indignation at being so handled. What he did, after the briefest of struggles, his breath coming in hitching pants, was return her kiss. His mouth devoured hers, and for a moment, she was confused, her task forgotten as she surrendered to the taste of his mouth, the power of his tongue. A low moan of desperate need escaped her. He tasted so good… Senses reeling, thighs suddenly wet and slick with her own juices, she backed away from him a safe distance. “I would ask what’s wrong with you,” he said, and there was just the ghost of a smile on his face despite the precarious situation he was in, “but this whole thing is so fucked up, I’m not even going to waste my time.” “More insolence,” she said, the ghost of a smile on her own lips. He really had no idea what he was in for. He knew that his kiss had some genuine effect upon her, and he thought that it would change something. How unfortunate for him, she thought. “First, you forget to use my proper title when addressing me, and now you want to make jokes. Your punishment is long overdue.” “Punishment?” he said as if the word were a living, breathing monster in and of itself. Exotica placed her hands at his waist, her fingers slipping in the oil that covered his hot flesh. She felt his hard muscles react to her touch. She drew closer until her breasts were pressed flat against his chest and his throbbing cock had slid between her thighs, touching the hot lips of her cunt. He felt the wetness within, and his eyes widened, desperation racing across his gaze so suddenly it was almost comical. She marveled at him. He looks like Kaliban, she thought, but Kaliban would never allow himself to react
so to my touch. “You want me, don’t you?” she asked, her words a breathless pant. “Yes,” he said with no hesitation. The sensation of his cock rubbing against the sensitive flesh of her cunt was maddening, sending hot ripples of lava fire all through her. She slid off that stiff, fleshy perch and slid behind him. The growl of his deep disappointment was music to her ears. She ran her hands over the flesh of his ass, feeling the muscles jump beneath the skin at her touch. She drew her hand back and slapped his ass. Hard. At his sharp intake of breath, she said, “First, you need to learn obedience … and humility.”
Chapter Five Cambion was completely, utterly confused, both by his inexplicable situation and by the beautiful woman who was intent on torturing him. Another slap danced across his ass, and then the slaps began to fall harder and faster, rising in momentum and intensity until he was straining against his bonds, trying to get away from her. He refused to cry out. Absolutely refused to. But some of the blows rocked him, sending white-hot fire racing across his now tender flesh. He was being spanked like a naughty child, and for the first twenty or so blows, that awful realization took precedence over the pain she was inflicting. But then his abused ass began to throb, the anticipation of each blow became a breathless terror, and he could no longer ignore the pain no matter how ridiculous the situation that inspired it. the siHis poor cock was engorged, weaving and bobbing in the empty air as he twisted his body in an attempt to avoid the next blow. She wasn’t even breathing hard from where she stood behind him. Her entire concentration seemed utterly directed at hitting the same place a dozen or so times until the pain of it climbed up his back, twisted its way through his flesh, and tried to force screams through his vocal cords. The first blow of the lash took him totally by surprise, and he had to bite his tongue until he tasted blood to keep from crying out. White-hot agony raced across the tender flesh of his ass as the lash whistled through the air again. The pain was absolutely chilling, so much worse than the sting of her hand. His back arched, and he felt the muscles in his arms straining as he fought his bonds. What did she want? he wondered desperately. What could he give her to make the pain stop? The lash fell again and again, the pain driving his mind into a cold numbness. He raged at her, uttered vile curses, all of which seemed to fall on deaf ears. He did not recognize the moment when his body began to absorb the pain, when some of the blows that fell on his tortured ass sent an unmistakable thrill of pleasure through his rock hard cock. He hung limply and stared at his treacherous, distended member, watched the way it seemed to feed on certain blows she was delivering so generously, to grow and throb with desire. What’s wrong with me? he wondered. How can I be feeling any pleasure in this terrible, terrible pain? But he was. The terrible burning in his chest—which was trying desperately to match the pain she was delivering to his tortured ass—told him so. He began to recognize that some of the blows were delivered at a different intensity to the others, that some seemed designed to elicit a strange pleasure in him while others were more geared toward the punishment she had promised. His cock, his flesh, knew the difference as he bit back savage whimpers, some of pain and some of something … darker. These darker blows would send him surging upward, his cock raging, demanding, near explosion, every muscle in his body and every cell in his being seeking some satisfaction. “Lady,” he gasped finally, and the blows stopped as suddenly as they had begun. She came to stand before him, and he saw the lash grasped in her hand. It was a thick thing with three distinct ends made of leather. It was designed to bring pain, but its wide, flat leather heads were not designed to cut flesh, only punish it. “Say it again,” she demanded, her amber eyes dark with some nameless emotion.
Obstinacy rose up in him, but the pain in his ass and the desperate sexual tension in his body quickly beat it down. “Lady,” he said again, and then, mind numb, head reeling from pain and desire, without thinking of what possible repercussions could come from his words: “Touch me, please.” She smiled, her gaze winking wickedly in the torchlight. The lash fell from her hand to land in the purple waters at her feet. She came to him, her every footstep caught by tiny flat stairs that rose from the water. She was still wearing the sheer hooded cloak she’d worn when he met her, and slowly she let that fall from her shoulders to the amethyst waters. There was a leather strap drawn across her breasts, attached to a silver metal loop that sprouted more leather to cup the V of her sex. She wasn’t wearing anything else. The ground let his feet go, and he felt himself raised high in the air. She continued to ride the ivory stairs until she met him. He found himself hypnotized by the sensual sway of her rolling hips. When she touched him, a simple graze of her hand across the skin of his chest, his whole body shuddered in helpless response. There was a very big part of him that swore vengeance upon her for her punishment—but it was numb from pain and want. All he could feel was desire intensified. She was beautiful in a way that was dangerous and previously unknown to him. She had stolen him from his life, taken him to a place beyond his imagination, and punished him for some crime he didn’t understand. He should hate her and he knew it. But instead, he wanted to fuck her. That was the truth, plain and simply put, his raging cock standing as testimony to the fact. She reached down and grabbed his cock, and his chest raged so hot he thought he was on fire with its burning. He leaned in to kiss her, desperate to taste her. She grabbed his face, her hand spread across his mouth, her fingers on his cheek, and pushed his head back, denying him the pleasure of her succulent lips. She pushed him again, harder this time. The line that connected his arms to the ceiling snapped, and he fell backwards. He hit the velvet softness of a floating mattress that seemed to have come from nowhere. Soft silk rustled beneath his skin, and he could feel water beneath the silk as he rolled on its surface. He tried to sit up, but the bizarre bonds she had placed him in would not allow that, connecting with the posts of the bed and drawing him into a still position, spread-eagle on the mattress. She got on her hands and knees and crawled onto the mattress at his feet. Her amber eyes were lit with desire as they roved over him. Her full lips parted, and her tongue snaked out to caress her lower lip. “Are you going to be good now, Cambion?” she asked. “Very,” he promised. “You understand that I am only doing what is necessary.” She slid up his legs, her swollen nipples painting a path in the oil on his skin. “That your power lies here”—she grasped his cock in her hands…”and this is where it must be awakened.” His breath came out in a low whistle at the heated contact. “We are sexual beings, Cambion, sexual demons. Sex is what drives us.” Her fingers slid from the tip to the base of his cock, long nails trailing along the engorged flesh. “There are only two classes in Master and slave. No one is exempt. The weak are killed.” Her grip tightened until he had to bite his tongue to keep from crying out in the wake of the conflicting sensations of pleasure and pain. “Which will you be in the end? Master, slave or dead?” Master, he thought, but knew better than to say it. I will master you, Exotica.
Her hands slid beneath his hips to caress the stinging flesh of his ass. The pain was phenomenal. She lowered her mouth to his cock and licked it cat quick. His mind screamed in confusion. Pleasure or pain? he wondered desperately. She took his cock into her mouth, her teeth roving gently over the head. She did not stop looking at him as she did this, her eyes burning in the torchlight. Then she sat up and removed the leather contraption that covered her body. Her black hair hanging over the perfection of her form like an inky cloak, her rose-tipped nipples now free and peeking from the straight silken mass. She crawled up the length of his body until her full, ripe breasts hung over his mouth, the nipples straining and erect. “Taste them,” she commanded. His mind balked at the command, but he wasn’t in the mood to disagree with her and deny himself the hot pleasure that lingered so close above him. He opened his mouth and took in one pink bud, rolling his tongue over the nipple, which was as hard as stone. He sucked hard, raking the tiny pink bud with his teeth until she gasped in pleasure. That little gasp inspired him, and he sucked harder, running his tongue over the sweet flesh. Her hips moved over his, teasing his cock with the silken hairs of her cunt. It was maddening not to be able to touch her any more than this. When she tried to move, he kept a tight hold on the captured nipple. For a moment they struggled, her breaths leaving her in tiny pants of desire, and then she grabbed his hair and pulled. He thought to fight her, but knew that, if he did, he stood a good chance of not getting what he wanted. Reluctantly, he let the tasty bit of flesh go. She stared at him with glazed eyes that were only a little angry. “You’ll pay for that later,” she breathed. “I’m sure I will,” he said, leaning forward in an effort to catch her other nipple. “But you are so beautiful, I just can’t help myself, Lady.” A smile flittered across her face for the briefest of moments as she put her hand flat on his chest to keep him from obtaining his goal. She raised her hips over his straining member. He could see the soft pink flesh of her cunt beneath the dark silk that covered it. She lowered herself onto him, driving downward fast, impaling herself on his cock. Her eyes widened as he filled her. She was so hot inside, Cambion thought, longing to reach out and grasp her hips to pull her down on top of him again and again. But his bonds prohibited the action, and he could only lie there as she worked her hips over his. She moved slowly at first, her hips undulating, full breasts bobbing. He watched her eyes close as he moved his hips beneath hers, driving upward into the heated softness of her molten core. “J’soran,” she whispered, the word both ancient and foreign. His arms were suddenly free, though his hands were still bound at the wrists. The second he felt the freedom, he reached for her, looping his arms around her head and drawing her down to him. He felt the incredible silken thickness of her hair as he brought her lips to his, her breasts pressed against his chest. She moaned long and deep as their lips touched and he buried his tongue in her mouth. Her hips pounded into his, the rhythm intense, frantic. She murmured something into his mouth, and the only word he could make out was kisses. He felt her teeth clamp on his bottom lip and a shot of near pain coursed through him. His arms slid lower over her satin back until they were at her waist, forcing her closer to him so that when he bucked against her he reached places that sent her body into the desperate shudders of orgasm.
She broke their kiss suddenly and stared at him, eyes hooded with desire, and then she worked her way across his jaw with her mouth, leaving a trail of fire down his throat to the burning spot at his chest. She bit him there, in that fiery place, and he cried out as he came suddenly and furiously. * Exotica collapsed on the Cambion’s chest, her body still shuddering with the power of what they had just done. His breathing was slow and rhythmic beneath her, and she knew that exhaustion had carried him away. Where her head rested on his chest, she felt the flickering fires of the skin design of the Royal House of Oea burning. She sat up and pressed her fingers against that place. She could feel the outline of the design pressing just beneath his skin and smiled. “Sje’cava-jinn,” she ordered the mattress. The thing rocked in the empty air like a babe’s cradle, coming to rest on the wet floor. Exotica slipped away from the heat of him reluctantly. I lost control there at the end, she admitted to herself with a thoughtful frown. It’s his kiss. There is so much passion in his kiss … so much carefully checked power… Her eyes fell on his swollen lips, and she longed to kiss him awake and feel him inside her again. She didn’t dare. She knew she had to carefully maintain her illusion of control until he was ready. She wondered what she would do if she broke him, but then shook her head, reaching out to stroke the golden locks of his hair and run her fingers over each golden eyebrow. He stirred at the touch, but sleep held him fast. Lady, he had said finally. Had she imagined the slight mockery in the word … or the raging desire? He looked at her with much of the awe that a human male would, and yet there was something else to the Cambion, something dangerous and familiar as a demon’s kiss was to her… Exotica got up off the silk-covered mattress, her feet dancing across the warm amethyst waters. She moved to one wall and pulled at the head of a large phallus that rested there in bulging marble. More water fell in a hot, purple hued shower that covered her naked flesh. She had tarried too long with the instrument of her salvation in this rented Pleasure Pen chamber deep within the bowels of Oea. She didn’t want anyone to become suspicious of her … or curious about her new slave. There would be a ball in Upper Oea, the announcement of Kaliban’s six-week-long coronation ceremony. She would be expected, and she would be missed if she did not attend. Hurriedly, she lathered in soap that was a mixture of lavender and the sexual gland of some beast of the darkness that lived in the blackness beyond Oea. When she was done with her shower, Exotica slid into a gown that was composed entirely of emeralds. The stones lay across her breast in tantalizing, winking green, leaving her midriff exposed, and it formed a glittering cover over her hips that went down to her ankles. When she moved, tempting glimpses of the bare flesh beneath were exposed. She flicked a pointed marble nipple and the wall turned in on itself, producing a full-length mirror with a frame of ivory bone. She braided her hair, weaving a string of emeralds among the thick dark braid. Satisfied with the way she looked, Exotica went back to the mattress upon which Cambion rested and pulled the dark silken hood back over his head. The collar absorbed the ends of the hood. Only she could remove it. She also ordered the collar to rebind him to the bedposts, but gently so as not to wake him. It would be necessary, she knew, when
the slaves came to apply the ointment that would ease his suffering. “Next time will not be as pleasant as this,” she told the sleeping man softly. She moved out into the hallway, closing the chamber door behind her. She drew her hand over the skull face of the bolt and watched its jaws come together and lock in place. He would be safe, she thought with some relief, and that relief unnerved her. The Cambion is only a means to an end, she told herself sternly. What you feel for him is based solely on the fact that he looks so much like that bastard, Kaliban. But he doesn’t act like Kaliban, a little treacherous voice inside her whispered back, and he doesn’t kiss like Kaliban either… The winding hallways of the Pleasure Pens twisted around her as she threaded her way down the familiar cobbled streets. She always enjoyed walking through the Pleasure Pens as opposed to the more opulent Middle and High Oea. The delicious smells of food and sex drifted to her on an artificial wind provided by high fans that pumped in the air of the darkness beyond Oea. She was in the High Lease district where those with wealth and power came to play with their newly acquired and nobly bred Lords and Ladies. Crimson colored ribbons hung from the gold domed ceiling, draping vendors’ booths and hastily erected structures meant for patrons to sample the wares of sensual flesh. Jugglers and scantily clad fire dancers moved about everywhere. Naked clowns cavorted, their painted faces a leering, grotesque mockery of the clowns that existed in the human world. Exotica stopped at the massive market that opened up in the district square and enjoyed the festive colors and fleshy decorations of the place. There were hundreds of vendors in the square, selling everything from delicious food to the flesh of handsome half-willing noble love slaves. Beautiful incubi and succubae, trapped in the agonizing world that came before the process that would change them into instruments of pure, unadulterated lust, wept on wooden altars as their bodies were sacrificed to the hungry crowds below. Exotica watched a golden haired beauty dance at the command of one booth’s proprietor, tears in her eyes as patrons of the vendor teased and tormented her breasts until they were ripe and swollen from being slapped and pinched. Another woman was suspended over a gaping crowd, her legs drawn apart by thick rope so that her sex hung open for all to see. The crowd stood on tiptoes, reaching for the silken prize of her cunt. She thrashed in her bonds, only managing to show them more of her flesh. Exotica found herself wondering how Cambion would feel being tied up and shown thusly. The idea sent a thrill of excitement through her that threatened to buckle her knees. “Lady Exotica,” the Duke’s voice said, coming over the roar of the tiny crowd. “We have a problem, you and I.” His voice was deceptively serene. Looking at the slave he led behind him on a thin silver chain, she knew there was anger behind the Duke’s words. He was the love slave from the hallway outside of Kaliban’s chambers, the one she had toyed with before she had found herself given to the Duke. The slave’s eyes were a soft gray, she noted. “What problem?” Exotica asked innocently enough. The Duke’s eyebrows rose. “Do I need to call a Vid-screen, Lady?” Exotica sighed. “So what?” she said. “I played with your toy.” The Duke’s arm snaked out and grabbed her at the wrist. “You are awfully haughty,” he said. “Undeserving of the rank of Lady. Your eyes actually flashed at me. There is a
sneer on your face. I could teach you what Kaliban could not … your place.” He tugged the love slave’s chain, and the captured creature bowed his head obediently in response. “Do you see?” Exotica tried to pull away from his rapidly tightening grasp. His grip tightened to something vice-like and painful. She could feel the bite of his nails in her flesh. “And where have you been, Lady?” he snarled. “It is rumored that you have acquired a toy of your own. That is very unbecoming of a Lady, especially the last Lady of the illustrious House of Copper… a Lady who, only days ago, was kicked out of the Prince’s bed.” Desperation lent Exotica the strength to snatch her arm away from him. “You should not concern yourself overmuch with what I do, Duke Uriel,” she hissed. “Everyone knows that I am broken and prone to do any scandalous thing. Why is anything I do of interest to you?” He stared at her, his emerald eyes flickering darkly. “You fascinate me,” he said finally. A chill went through her at his admission. Her mind worked frantically, trying to find a way out of this conversation and away from his attentions, let alone his fascination. “I am a succuba that is ruled by emotions beyond lust. I am utterly useless to Oea as I form foolish emotional attachments to those I take to my bed. If not for the honor the king bestowed on my family hundreds of years ago, I would be in the worst hole in Lower Oea, bedding the low dogs of that place for my supper nightly. No, do not concern yourself with me. I am a lost cause.” His teeth were like cubes of ice in his perfect smile, and she could see, quite clearly, that her self-deprecating words had fallen on deaf ears. His grin drove the chill already coursing through her straight to the bone. “You would be amazed at the things I concern myself with, Exotica. Were you mine, I would never let you go. There is such passion in you, beyond these pre-scanned creatures moaning about us. You know yourself in ways that they do not and never will. You defied the scans. Something that is unheard of. Your screaming would be heartfelt, full of rage and need … symphonic.” I was your second choice after Kaliban, Exotica wanted to remind him. Instead she said, “I will never be yours, Duke. You do not suit my taste. I have no desire to disappear as those in your care have been known to do.” “Call me Uriel,” the Duke said. “Now that you no longer frequent Kaliban’s bed, there’s no harm in it, is there?” “I will never be yours, Uriel,” Exotica said flatly. He stepped closer to her. She felt the brush of his silken garments against the flesh peeking from the jeweled gown she wore. Her body reacted to the close contact in the manner that it was designed to, and she felt her nipples go hard as the emeralds brushed across their tips. He was watching her face carefully, taking in the horror and repulsion she could not stop from flittering across it. He also caught the unadulterated lust. “You hate it, don’t you,” he whispered, “the fact that you can react to me and despise me at the same time? That is what fascinates me about you.” He jerked the love slave’s chain cruelly, causing the slave to stumble forward. “I am very fond of this pretty vessel that you defiled outside Kaliban’s chamber.” Exotica was gifted with a view of his back and the crisscross of painful lashes upon it. Uriel, it seemed, had no qualms about marring the flesh of his lovers. Her stomach turned. “But he will never want me the way
that you could,” he finished. “Duke Uriel,” Exotica said carefully, knowing she could not seriously afford to offend such high-ranking nobility. As long as he thought her denials were a game, that he stood a chance with her, she was safe. Knowing that Uriel was exceedingly fond of playing painful and dangerous games, she thought to use that knowledge to her benefit. “You are wasting your seduction on me. Despite what my body may lead you to believe, I am still suffering a great deal of loss at the prince’s dismissal. I am not ready to take another lover. In time, perhaps, dear Duke, but not now.” “See?” Uriel said, half-amused, a sudden scowl flickering across his handsome face. “That is what I like about you. Granted, you have gained your freedom, but you have always thought you were entitled to some say in the matter of your person, Lady. You must let me escort you to the Coronation Ball. I should like to see Kaliban’s face when I arrive with you. I have failed him recently, you see, failed him miserably. I should like to incur more of his wrath.” He offered her his arm, and Exotica had no choice but to take it. She walked with him to the three-ring transport that would take them to Upper Oea. As the three rings flashed around them, preparing to transport them to the lavish Royal House district, the Duke leaned over and whispered in her ear, “I had plans for you, my Lady. However, those plans took an unexpected turn. Trust in this: I will correct that unfortunate matter. Because I am impatient, I have reported your little transgression with my Lord-In-TheMaking to the king. I requested a night with you in return for the crime you committed against me.” His tongue snaked out and caressed the shell cup of her ear. “It’s a far reach for such a common crime, but we shall see what my dear uncle says.”
Chapter Six Cambion had feigned sleep as Exotica departed the room. He was blind beneath the silken hood, and no matter how much he tugged at his infernal bonds, he only succeeded in rubbing the flesh of his wrists and ankles raw. Aggravated by his vain struggle, he relaxed on the mattress, his flesh tender and throbbing from his Lady’s endeavors. His thoughts on the matter of his punishments shocked him. He wanted to escape … desperately … but he did not want to leave the bizarre room she had brought him to, not until he’d had her in a dozen ways at least. He wanted her to cry out his name in that strange language she was so fond of. He growled in irritation at his own treacherous desires. The thoughts he was having were insane, he knew. He had been kidnapped and was being held against his will, tortured at her will. I am wearing a collar, he thought, and that’s not even the worst part. The worst part is that my captor has wings and claims to be a sex demon. “She claims that I am a sex demon,” Cambion whispered out loud, trying to make some sense of it all. His life was relatively normal except for the fact that he never knew his mother and father. There had been a terrible car accident, and they died days after he was born. His grandparents had raised him on a small horse ranch in Indiana. He’d run in the tall grass, and from the time he was six years old, he’d raced horses, too fast, through open fields. He kissed his first girl at thirteen beneath a weeping willow tree that stood outside his grandparent’s house. He made love for the first time, on the night of his prom, with Lacey May Walcott, a pretty girl in his class that he had dated all that year. One day, he sold a stallion to a woman named Michelle Stein … and ended up in California with his face on a dozen or so romance novels. That was it, except for the longing, the part of him that was always yearning and never quite satisfied. In his secret heart, he had always attributed that constant craving to the fact that he did not dream, had never dreamed, not once … ever. He thought that his longing stemmed from the fact that he did not have something all other people had, an outlet when his mind rested, a place where all his dreams, fears, and desires could bear fruit. It caused him to want … What, he had not known because he hadn’t run across it … until now. He wanted her, but not on her terms. He had some terms of his own. Visions of her pale satin flesh writhing beneath his slowly rolled through his mind. He shook them off as he felt his body respond to the heated images. He had to reason this out. He had to find a way to get free. He tugged at his bonds again in frustration, and when they gave no quarter, he forced himself to calm down and think. Lack of dreams aside, his life left little room for the reality of demons. Yet, he couldn’t deny his situation or the beautiful creature with the inky black wings who had caught him as he fell to certain death. His mind drifted back to the party, to the blonde woman he had held in his arms and the thing that had been standing in the doorway watching him. The thing that looked like it had been forced into the suit—hell, the skin— it was wearing and was watching him closely, malevolently, from behind the lenses of jet-black sunglasses. Its constant stare had made him uncomfortable, as if his mind
wanted to recognize something about it that his eyes refused to see. She had saved him from that thing. He was sure of it. That creature and its two minions had come to the ball for him. She had pushed him off the balcony in order to save him and bring him here. There was a method to her madness, a purpose to her cruelty. She wanted something from him, but what that was he could not quite grasp. His obedience she had claimed, his humiliation. And yet, when he’d kissed her, her claims did not hold water. She had melted against him, her hot body attempting to meld with the lava that was his. He felt his cock grow hard with the thought of the frenzy, the incredible passion, she had put into that kiss. He heard the click of an electronic lock and then footsteps as the door closed behind the intruder. “Tsk,” a soft voice said, “how does she expect me to feed you with that cursed hood on?” With the words came the smell of rich, exotic foods. Cambion’s stomach rumbled with hunger. Another voice answered the first. “Maybe he did something bad and is not entitled to food? She had us bring the oil for his muscles, remember? He was obviously punished rather severely for something.” “Lady Exotica is not cruel like that, Alli. His punishment is her business, but I don’t think she would deny him food. I think she just forgot.” “Who are you?” Cambion asked. He felt a soft stroke up his inner thigh. “Servants sometimes, love slaves other times. Not so different from you.” “I am no slave,” Cambion growled. He was getting awfully tired of saying it. “Ah, Mina, he’s deluded.” Mina giggled. “He’s a magnificent Lord, isn’t he? What I wouldn’t give to see his face.” “I don’t need to see anything but this,” the one called Alli said. He felt a hand wrap around the shaft of his cock. The contact was not as electric as that brought about by his “Lady”, but it sent a hot chill through him nonetheless. “I—I have a few questions,” Cambion managed to say. “Anything,” Alli said, her hand teasing his cock. “But for every question you ask me, I have a question in return. We’ll make a game of it. Agreed?” He felt another set of hands on him, beginning to massage the thick and all too familiar oil into his shoulders and then sliding down his chest, working the oil in methodically as if it were a job she was very used to. The oil smelled the same, but this time it came with a dull heat and he felt the tight muscles in his body relax and go numb everywhere she placed her hands. The feeling was wonderful, and he basked in it. He was ashamed of his first question, but he asked it anyway because it had been bothering him. “Where has Exotica gone?” “To the Prince’s Coronation Ball. There will be a ball every night until Prince Kaliban becomes king in his father’s stead. Mina and I are from Lower Oea and are not allowed to attend, not even allowed to serve. But I imagine it’s quite wonderful. And at least poor Lady Exotica gets to be around Kaliban again, now that he’s cast her out.” Cambion was filled with some dark emotion he didn’t even dare try and name. “What do you mean?”
“My turn, remember?” Alli said. Her hand was moving hard and fast on the flesh of his cock. He thought he was would go insane when he felt the heated oil slide down the thick shaft and the flesh went numb. It was a strange sensation and, at first, he didn’t know what to make of it. Then her hands did a dance of friction over the numb flesh, and he closed his eyes and clenched his teeth as pleasure coursed over him in riotous wave after wave. “What color are your eyes?” Alli asked. “Blue,” he said. “What did you mean when you said that Prince Kaliban cast her out?” “Where have you been?” Mina asked, her hands sliding between the tender flesh of his ass and the mattress. Cambion’s breath came out in a low whistling hiss as she massaged the oil into one cheek and then the other. “I like blue eyes,” Alli said, her hand moving in a slow and rhythmic jerking motion. “They remind me of the skies in the dreams of the humans I sometimes lie with. Lady Exotica belonged to Prince Kaliban for over a year. He dismissed her recently. She’ll have a hard time now. I can’t imagine anyone else will want her. She’s … broken. Did she tell you?” “No.” “I imagine she wouldn’t. It has to be terribly embarrassing for her that the likes of me, low born and all, scanned properly and she did not. A ball of emotions, that one.” Cambion was having a hard time thinking as the woman played with his cock. Two different kinds of hunger raged through his body at once—the smell of the food that they had brought was maddening, and the sensual play on his swollen flesh was causing his body to go into helpless twitching of sensual delight. He felt like he was going to explode and that, apparently, was what she wanted because as his hips began to rock beneath hers, she increased both the pressure and the strength of her stroking. “She catches you doing that and she’s prone to do anything to you,” Mina warned. “There are no Vid-screens in here,” Alli said with confidence. “The nobles pay for privacy when they rent these rooms.” “Still,” Mina clucked, “Lady Exotica is not like the other nobles. There really is no telling what she may or may not do.” “Ah, it’s too late anyway,” Alli said with a breathless giggle as Cambion gasped and came. He was glad they couldn’t see his face, particularly glad when Mina started chiding Alli about the mess she’d made. He wondered if the indignities of this strange world that he had come to would ever stop. And then Alli straddled him, and he felt the warm heat of her sex against him. “Just a few more moments, lover, for the oil to set,” she whispered. “And then what?” he asked. “How do you feel?” Cambion smiled beneath the hood. He felt great. The pain in his body had ceased completely. He felt as if he were floating as the scent of the oil seemed to permeate everything in the room. His eyes wanted to close completely and surrender him to sleep. “There was something in that oil,” he breathed. His voice sounded very thick and far away to his ears. “The Lady insisted that you were made to feel good … wanted.”
“Then the Lady is damn confusing,” Cambion said sleepily. “Yes, well, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that. So don’t tell her that I told you and we’ll both be better off for it. Understand?” “Oh, absolutely,” Cambion said. “This whole thing makes such perfect sense.” “Get off him, Alli, he’s no use to you now,” Mina chuckled. “Help me get him up. We have our duties to perform.” He felt the woman slide off him, but her touch was phantomlike as he drifted off. He fought his way back through the rolling waves of darkness that were trying to engulf him. The chains grew lax, but he had no ability to fight them as one woman slid under one shoulder and helped him to stand. They walked a few paces. “From your reactions, I believe that this is your first time bound, young Lord,” Alli whispered. “The collar is designed to react to the needs of your body. Should you have to use the facilities, the collar will know and will grow slack accordingly, allowing you to make your way to this chamber. Simply touch the wall and the room will shift to accommodate you. Unless your Lady wishes it otherwise, of course, then you will simply have to wait … and beg.” Cambion heard her words through the thick fog his mind had become. He barely noticed when she submerged him in warm waters. One of the women held his head above the water while the other rubbed his body with a soft sponge. “She is coming back,” he mumbled with some confidence. “She threatened me. She said that ‘next time would not be as pleasant as this’.” His laughter was soft and seemed to come from a deep, dark cave far away. “I think he’s in love, poor thing,” Mina whispered, working the sponge over his body. “The scans will take care of that,” Alli promised, her mouth separated from his ear only by the silk of the hood. With her whisper lingering in his ear, Cambion succumbed to the fog of sleep … and dreamed for the first time in his life. **** Exotica stood in one corner of Upper Oea’s opulent Carnal Chamber and viewed a small Vid-screen over and over again as the other revelers at Kaliban’s coronation ball danced and mingled. On all the thousands of other Vid-screens that covered the ceiling walls and even the floor of the glorious chamber, humans fornicated in their dreams. Occasionally, interested incubi or succubae would slip off from the party for a time to join their demon brethren in the humans’ imaginings—thereby adding their lust-filled cries to the passion that echoed in the chamber. These sounds of pleasure were the music that the Carnal Chamber’s revelers danced to. Exotica had managed to lose Duke Uriel when the man had stopped to chain his love slave at the gates of the chamber. She had actually run into the party, diving into the throng of dancing people, cloaking herself in the sweating half-clad bodies of others. She refused to allow herself to think that Uriel had some hold over her, that the king would grant his ridiculous request in order to appease the slight insult she had dealt him by toying with his love slave. Still, her skin felt clammy where he had touched her. I am going to kill them both, Exotica thought of her personal housemaids, Mina and Alli, as she watched the Vid-screen play out what was happening in her rented pleasure
chamber in the High Rent District of Lower Oea. Especially Alli. She watched the two succubae bathe the drugged and sleeping Cambion, dry him and the place where he slept with the sun dryer provided by the chamber, and leave the chamber in a treacherous, giggling frenzy. She rewound the vision before her until she was at the part where Alli took Cambion’s cock in her hands. She watched it again, trying to understand the anger that coursed through her at the sight. The Cambion is just a means to an end, she reminded herself again. He is the thing that will keep me out of the hands of the Duke. When Cambion is ready, I will present him to his father. He is just as entitled to the throne as Kaliban. I will earn the king’s gratitude, whether Kaliban becomes king or not. Duke Uriel will never have me. I do what I do for the purely selfish motivation of saving my own ass. She pressed her hand to the screen, turning it back to the passionate dream it had been playing before she had disturbed it. She moved across the chamber to the long, ornate table at its center. She felt eyes on her as she moved and looked up into the faces of several smirking Ladies. She stalked past them to her destination and waited patiently while a hajala was poured into a small ruby glass. She downed the fiery crimson drink entirely, liking the hotness that spread to her belly and the slight and immediate heady rush that went to her head. She felt a hand at the bare flesh of her back, the mockery of a caress that sent a hot sensation across her flesh. She turned to face Kaliban. He was dressed in a rich onyx that rivaled the blackness that surrounded Oea. A fine velvet cape hung from his shoulders. His blond hair was tied at the nape of his neck with a piece of black velvet. “You stole from me,” he said. “Ah, I stand accused of yet another crime,” Exotica murmured. “I appear to be on some kind of spree. I shall surely end up imprisoned.” He frowned at her. “My collar.” “Oh, that,” she said softly. “I threw it in a pool in the Garden District. You’ll have to buy another one.” “I see,” he said. A heavy silence hung between them. Exotica used that time to marvel at how much Kaliban and Cambion looked alike—same height, same lips, and same incredible eyes. She must have become lost in those eyes because the next thing she knew he had grabbed her in his arms and pulled her to him roughly. She almost dropped the tiny ruby glass, but managed to hold onto it. “Dance with me,” he said. “Why?” she asked as she felt herself pulled into him, her body pressed intimately against the hardness of his. “I have been dismissed, remember?” And bartered off, she longed to finish, but didn’t dare. “Because I said dance with me,” he growled. She could feel the heat of his chest through his clothing. That heat enveloped her, and her nipples instantly went hard, the sensitive rose tips poking through the emerald top she wore and rubbing against the smooth material of his jacket. Her senses reeled. She felt the hardness of his sex pressing into her belly as he turned her away from the table and onto the dance floor. His hand slid down the small of her back to cup her ass, and she shuddered from the heat of the touch as the emeralds she wore parted easily for his fingers. She could feel hundreds of pairs of eyes on her as he spun her across the dance floor, stepping on the rutting of human dreams. “Look,” he said, and she obeyed because she was so very used
to obeying him. On the floor, in a medium-sized Vid-screen, a woman lay surrounded by incubi and succubae. She was a beautiful specimen of humanity, her hair a soft gold lying on flawless alabaster skin, and the demons that had invaded her dream were impressed by that beauty. A raven-haired succuba laved the soft pink flesh between the woman’s legs with her tongue as the woman sat impaled on the shaft of a greedy humping incubus. He dove mercilessly into the hot flesh of her ass, and when her groans of pleasure became riotous, another incubus placed his cock in her gasping mouth. There was another Vid-screen—very small—playing only a few feet from the one Kaliban was watching so intently. The sight on the screen took Exotica’s breath away because she was in it. Her long black hair was spread out behind her as the waves of the ocean crashed upon her flesh. The beach was white, the sand like marble beneath her back. Her wet skin glittered with crystalline drops that shimmered gold with the amberred rays of the descending sun. The man who was positioned between her legs—his swollen cock embedded inside her like they had been born joined—was not Kaliban, though he did look just like him. Exotica’s blood ran cold in her veins, and at the same time, her cunt went liquid fire wet. He was dreaming about her, the fool! The dreams of Oea never transferred to the Vid-screens, and the possibility that Cambion’s first dream would leak into the ball had never occurred to her. The screens were tuned to the nocturnal imaginings of humanity, opening portals from Oea and the dark world of the dreamer. Even the fact that Cambion was half-human shouldn’t have mattered because he was in Oea. And yet, there he was in vivid color, pinning her arms down hard against the sand, driving into her with a passion that could be born of nothing but vengeance. The water crashed over them, the white waves dangerous as the sky darkened and white lightning rode across the graying, darkening sky. Suddenly, he pulled out of her and flipped her over on her stomach… Exotica’s mouth opened and a tiny sigh escaped her. On the Vid-screen Cambion grasped her hair and pulled her back onto his waiting cock. His free hand came down hard against her right ass cheek and the Exotica in the picture jumped from the shock of the blow. He was being so very bad, she thought. He had to be the worst love slave in creation. Even in his sleep he should not have dared… Rain began to fall from the sky within the Vid-screen, and it was not the soft rain of romantic wanderings, but the violent rain that preceded a tornado or some other rage of nature. Then he pulled her up so that she was sitting in his lap, her legs spread wide over her bent knees, one hand groping a pale breast, twisting the nipple… Exotica swallowed hard and turned away from the image. Her legs felt weak, her breaths coming in little pants. Fear and desire warred in her … because she wanted nothing more than to slip into that dream. The craving was so strong in her that it drew her forward and out of Kaliban’s arms. All she had to do was kneel down and touch the screen and she would be there, wet and humping in the rain. It was his first dream, and he had dreamed of her. She threw her drinking glass into the picture, shattering it into a million pieces. The chamber stood still around her. The music of unadulterated desire went on, but the dancers watched Exotica as if she were some wild, dangerous thing. Their mass reaction
held no shock. She had done what a creature purely ruled by emotion was supposed to do. Instead, they looked appalled, disapproving, and slightly repulsed by her presence amongst them. “Exotica!” Kaliban’s voice was a cruel bark. She couldn’t look at him, was afraid to see the disgust in his eyes that was mirrored in so many others in the chamber. When she couldn’t stand it anymore, she took off across the ballroom. He called her again, his voice echoing over the sounds of passion from the Vid-screens. She had to fight her feet to keep from stopping at his command. When she was clear of the ball, Exotica did begin to run, tearing over the golden floors of the Royal House district until she came to the transport available in the Garden District. She launched herself into the transport, punching the necessary buttons to take her to her desired destination. Only a tiny part of her wanted to go home—to the sanctuary of her own chambers where she could think about the absolute chaos her life had become in only a matter of days—the rest of her wanted to be elsewhere. When the transport stopped in Lower Oea, she moved quickly up the streets until she stood at the door behind which Cambion slept. Why had she laced the muscle oil with the vision leaves? she asked herself. A relatively simple spell had been used to cloak the Cambion Prince from the demon world. Using the vision leaves to break the spell had been necessary—all his faculties had to be in order for the confrontation ahead. It had also been a foolish, stupid thing to do born of her stupid, useless emotions. She had felt so sorry for him while she had waited for him to wake from unconsciousness and their training to begin. Even demons dreamed. She opened the door and slid into the chamber, dropping her jeweled garments with every step she took until she was completely naked. He had been dreaming of her, and that thought made her feel strangely elated, extremely powerful—the exact opposite of the way that Kaliban made her feel. Cambion had been dreaming about pounding her into the sand of that white beach in the midst of a raging storm. It made her hot just to think about it. She thought of several ways to use him just then. But she didn’t want to wake him. She would be cruel because it was necessary, but not that cruel. She didn’t want to take his first dream away. She leaned across the mattress and pulled the hood off his head. She had forgotten to feed him, and he would be hungry when his new punishments began. She slid into the bed beside him, relishing the feel of his hot flesh against hers. Soon enough, she was asleep. She did not dream.
Chapter Seven Cambion awoke to the feel of ice cold metal against his chest. The savage beauty and wonder of his dream fled him, washed away by an uneasy feeling that caused his eyes to jerk open. “What the hell are you doing?” he asked the black-haired, beautiful monster that was perched naked on his chest. She smiled, but there was no kindness or humor in it. “Selecting trinkets with which to adorn you,” she said. Cambion didn’t even want to think about what that might mean. She hadn’t hurt him for the moment—but the dangerous, predatory look in her eyes held an undeniable promise of something sinister. He thought to change the subject to something more his benefit. “I’m thirsty,” he said, “and hungry.” Her golden eyes glittered. “Of course.” She slid off him and crossed the chamber. She returned with a small, covered silver tray. She sat on the mattress next to him and pulled the cover from the tray. Cambion’s stomach growled at the smell of the food. She held a glass to his lips. In it was a deep cerulean liquid. “I’m perfectly capable of feeding myself,” he said. “You are not quite tame enough to receive such privileges,” she said. She pressed the glass to his lips, and he drank. The liquid—light, cold, and slightly sweeter than water— was delicious, and he downed the whole glass. “I’ll never be tame enough,” he warned her. Her smile widened. “There are many things to learn today. We’ll see how you are afterwards.” His eyes narrowed. “Look,” he said, “I’m getting damn tired of this game.” “This is not a game, Cambion,” she said. “This is a matter of life and death.” She shoved a massive spoonful of warm stew into his mouth, and he nearly choked on it. It tasted wonderful, though, and he was content not to bemoan his fate for the time it took to devour the contents of the bowl. “Have you had enough?” she asked. “There is more, but Morag will arrive soon and she doesn’t like to be kept waiting. I was fortunate to get her. She is a master of her craft and blind to boot. You’ll be spared the hood at least.” Cambion liked this less and less. “And what exactly is this Morag here to do? You were rather cryptic before.” “Not a question for the likes of you, slave,” she answered with a feral grin that proved she was enjoying every moment of his discomfort. Anger coursed through him, helpless rage. “Fine,” he said. “Then answer this, Lady. Who is Kaliban?” She gasped, and her eyes widened. He liked that. The knock on the door caught them both by surprise. Exotica crossed the chamber. Quickly, she snatched a robe from amongst the many garments available and drew it about her shoulders. He watched her place her hand against the door and a small screen pop up beneath her palm. “Ah,” she whispered, “Morag, you are a few minutes early. I am honored.” “Yours is a special case, Lady Exotica. You have never called me before. I must
admit, curiosity gave me wings at the thought of serving you.” The woman who came into the chamber, though not as beautiful as Exotica, still had the ability to take Cambion’s breath away. Soft, curling waves of red hair spilled across her white shoulders. Her eyes were a soft jade, but the disconnected way they moved about the room proved to him that she was indeed blind. She was wearing a short white tunic which left most of her breasts exposed. He caught a glimpse of crimson colored nipples beneath the silken fabric. Her tiny waist was bare, and there was a very large sapphire lodged in her navel. The white skin of her shoulders and thighs was laced with intricate designs in multicolored ink, and those parts of her body were like white canvasses upon which worlds were drawn in fascinating detail. There was a stunning depiction of something like a panther wrapped around her throat, its snout buried in her jugular vein. Slung across her shoulders was a black satchel. She came toward him, striding across the floor with confidence. Her nails were as long as Exotica’s, only their tips were painted a throbbing crimson. She raked them across his body, pausing at his flat nipples and his cock—these places she teased as if she wanted to make herself very familiar with them. Exotica slid in behind the woman, rested her head in the space between the other woman’s shoulder and head and whispered, “He is a very bad slave, Morag. Spare him nothing.” “Yes, my Lady,” Morag whispered. Exotica’s hand slid across the flatness of Morag’s stomach, teasing the sapphire, and then slid down the pale skirt. He watched the woman spread her legs even as she reached into the satchel and produced her … tools. Cambion watched as she placed piece after piece of cold metal across his stomach. Steel rings of various sizes, tiny silver bars with round ends, dangerous looking studs encrusted with a glittering display of jewels, and finally, a heavy object with an open end that looked a lot like a blowtorch. “Exotica,” he began. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say, but it did occur to him to beg her not to do whatever it was she had planned. She pulled her hand out of Morag’s skirt and moved toward him so fast he could hardly keep up with her approach. She slapped him so hard his head jerked to one side under the force of the blow. “You forgot again,” she said, her voice stern. Cambion closed his eyes and tried to control his tumultuous emotions as he felt Morag shifting through the articles that lay warming on his belly. His rage got the better of him, however. “Bitch,” he said softly. “What? Cambion, did you say something?” His eyes snapped open. Their gazes met. Warred. “Bitch!” he spat. “Are you angry?” she said with a sly smile. “Had enough of this? You might want to go with that.” “Fuck you,” he said. “After, okay?” she whispered and turned her perfect little ass to him. She held up her hand and a steel ring dangled from it, laced with intricate engravings of copper. “This one, Morag, for the left nipple. It is mine, and as the slave belongs to me, he should wear something of my own personal crafting, don’t you think?” “Oh, yes, Lady,” Morag said. “Personalizing your un-scanned property is always best. It makes them feel special.”
Cambion wanted to kill them both. He watched with narrowed, horrified eyes as Morag picked up the blowtorch-looking thing and whispered a few words to it to produce a crimson flame. She took the ring from Exotica’s outstretched palm and passed it through the flame until the pointed ends of the ring glowed as red hot as the flame it danced in. Morag knelt on the side of the mattress, her hands brushing lightly over his chest until she found his right nipple. She used that one to guide her in the proper direction of the other. She grasped the flesh between her thumb and forefinger and rubbed it until she was satisfied that it was ready to receive the hot metal. Cambion couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, the entirety of his attention focused on the heated circle in her hand. “Do not worry,” Morag said. “I may be sightless, but I am very good at what I do. I pierced the Prince of the Realm himself, you know.” Her grip was like a vice on his flesh, and then the needle was so close he could feel the heat of it on his skin. Her next motion was very smooth and methodical as if she had performed it a thousand times before. The pain was lancing, sickening. It ran through his body, driving him upward from the bed in an agonized arch. His hands clenched and he pulled against his bonds savagely as she began to heat the metal of another ring. “You’re crazy,” he snarled at Exotica through clenched teeth. He had many more colorful things to say to her, but a wave of nausea from the pain washed over him suddenly, causing his head to swim and the food that he had eaten to roll around sickeningly in his stomach. “Crazy bitch,” he managed. “This is not the world you know, my little Lord,” she said softly, turning to him. “We are far more savage in our own way than your civilized universe. Most of us have had our emotions erased. Most of us cannot even experience anything beyond the very basic things that come with lust. And the ones that can feel have existed amongst the unfeeling so long that they don’t have any true emotion either. You’re going to have to learn these things if you wish to survive.” Morag grabbed his other nipple, and Cambion raged. He wanted up from the mattress. He wanted up so badly that freedom had acquired a taste in his mind and it was flavored with the salt of his own blood. His chest burned in that place that had always spoken of desire to him. The fire was so hot that he expected flames to erupt from beneath his skin. In his hazy, pain-masked vision he thought he saw the flesh rising in that place and forming a swirling, circular design that almost looked like a beast of prey. And then Morag drew the hot metal through the cringing flesh of his other nipple. His scream sounded maniacal in his own ears, so filled was it with rage, and passion, and pain. He heard the sound of something snapping and would have sworn it was his mind. He was suddenly sure that he would wake up from this terrible delusion and find himself in a padded cell somewhere, wrapped in the cool white of a state-issued straitjacket with a doctor calmly explaining to him that his insanity had been brought about because of his inability to dream. And then he was sitting up, one arm still bound, but the other free, the chain snapped and ragged on the bed. He reached out and shoved the redheaded witch off him and sent her tumbling to the wet floor. * Exotica watched Cambion struggle with the other chain, watched the metal give underneath the power of his determination. His blue eyes watched her with an intensity
that frightened her, and she understood that if he got free she was without a doubt in terrible trouble. Her gaze slid down his magnificent form to see that his cock was rock hard. Then she gazed at that coveted design on his chest and saw that the indentation there was certain, the flesh raised and angry, forming the dragon of the House of Oea. “My Lady,” Morag said, her voice desperate, “what is happening?” “Nothing, dear Morag,” Exotica answered, scrambling to gather what she could of the woman’s tools. “You may go now.” Morag pouted, her hand on Exotica’s thigh. “And my payment?” she whispered hotly. “You will be paid, Morag, just not now,” Exotica said, ushering Morag toward the door as Cambion broke the final chain that held his arm and turned in the bed to grasp at those that held his legs. “As you can see, I am having a problem with this unruly love slave.” “Easily remedied, my Lady,” Morag said, unable to keep the disappointment from her voice. “Yes,” Exotica whispered, “but he doesn’t know that.” Morag’s lips sought out Exotica’s clumsily. Exotica allowed herself to be kissed by the soft red lips that wanted hers so badly. The low moan that issued from Morag at the contact of their flesh sent a thrill of desire through her that was intensified by the wild thing that fought itself out of its bonds on the mattress. “Right in front of me,” Cambion growled. “I’m going to fucking kill you, Lady.” The chain on his leg snapped as Exotica shoved Morag out the door and closed it behind the woman. She was on her way back to the bed when the final chain snapped. Cambion stood up and staggered a little. She watched pain cloud his eyes, but they never left hers and the rage and desire in them did not dissipate as the pain washed over him. “What are you going to do now, Lady?” he asked, taking a staggering step toward her. “You should have run when you had the chance. You’ll never make it back to the cursed door.” The design on his chest throbbed visibly, and he cried out from the pain of it. The dragon pushed itself more forward, set itself more certainly on his flesh. He took three more steps toward her, very fast. Exotica held her breath. She wondered what he would do when he reached her. “Those chains would have bound a human male,” she said, taking a careful step back as he came at her. “But you are not a human male. You were marvelous.” “Uhm-hmm,” he said and rushed her. The words that commanded the collar came out of her in a breathless scream as she turned and ran. She felt the brush of his hand in her hair, down her back, as the collar reacted. He was stopped short suddenly; when she turned back to him, he was just standing there staring at her, wavering a little. The chain around his ankle bound him to the wall at the other side of the chamber. She stood there, panting a little from the chase. She watched him fall. He hit the floor hard. A terrible panic set in her, and she was kneeling by his supine form before she knew it. “Cambion?” she whispered. “Gotcha,” he said. His arm clamped around hers like a vice. His free hand clutched at the robe she was wearing, and he ripped it off as if it had been made of paper. She uttered a little squeal as he jerked her down to him. Her heart hammered in her chest as
she found herself on her back in the warm amethyst waters that ran on the floor. His mouth was on her suddenly, demanding. There was nothing nice in his kiss. When her lips didn’t part immediately, he forced them apart, and then his tongue was in her mouth, discovering the hidden places within, sucking the very life out of her with the intensity of his heat. Her altered libido rose to the occasion, nipples hard, aching pussy throbbing wildly. Her free hand found the waves of his hair and she was pressing him closer, dissolving in the wildfire of the kiss. She knew she shouldn’t do this, shouldn’t let him conquer her like this. But she wanted him. Her body was on fire for him. The ache in her cunt had drawn that flesh so tight, so sensitive, that it was almost painful with need for him. “Cambion…” she muttered when he pulled his mouth away from hers and balanced himself on one arm so that he could better spread her legs with his knees. She only fought him a little. “Not yet,” he said. She felt the hardness of his cock against the wetness of her cunt, and she thrust her hips toward him, desperate to have him inside her. She leaned up, wrapping her arm around his neck. Her breast rubbed against the sensitive, abused flesh of his chest, and a shudder went through his whole body that ended in him thrusting inside her with such force that she cried out. He was so large and he filled her to overflowing, driving her back down into the warm waters, breathless. He reached down and grasped her legs underneath her knees and pulled them up as he pounded into her. He did not stop until her legs were over his shoulders and she was wide open underneath him. Exotica couldn’t breath. She couldn’t think. The totality of her being was centered on the man inside her, the way the thick shaft rubbed the silken walls inside her, brushing a thousand spots within her that screamed hot pulses of pleasure though her body in response. “Now you can say my name,” he said. It came out of her in a ragged gasp. “Cambion.” His mouth covered hers, muffling her wild cries, absorbing them, eating them voraciously. The metal rings in his chest raked her nipples, sending more fiery shocks of pleasure through her, and suddenly her entire body was shaking uncontrollably as if she was in the midst of a terrible fit. She said his name again, and even though he swallowed the cry, he seemed to understand the note of pleading in it … and reject it. He slid into her slowly and pulled away fast, teasing her into breathless screams. The rhythm drove her mindlessly to the brink of orgasm. Her breaths were frantic hitching things. When she came, it rocked her whole body with such a force that she felt as if she had been thrown back in an explosion of hot liquid fire. Her cunt tensed against him, the muscles spasming hard with the force of her orgasm, demanding that he come with her. He did. They shuddered jointly for what seemed to be sensual eternity for Exotica, and then they collapsed together.
Chapter Eight Cambion really couldn’t understand why he hadn’t killed her. He asked himself that question as his fingers toyed with the emerald glittering in her wet raven hair. His chest throbbed, but the pain beneath his shoulders had mercifully abated to a tolerable level. His free hand toyed with the pink bud of her left nipple. “Get off me, oaf,” she said. “Who is Kaliban?” he asked, making his voice casual. Her amber eyes narrowed dangerously. “He is Prince of the Realm.” “I gathered that. Who is he to you, Lady?” “Cambion, your wounds need tending.” “Oh, you mean these wounds that you had inflicted?” Her hand raked across his chest, dancing over the painful flesh beneath his shoulder. He flinched at the contact. “I did not inflict that,” she said. He looked down and saw the bizarre rising on his flesh that had swirled into some nearly distinguishable picture. The feral beast was blind; the bump that represented its eye seemed to stare in his general direction, unseeing. He let Exotica’s breast go, touching his own flesh instead. The ridges beneath his skin were as hard as metal. “What the hell?” he whispered. “Off, Cambion,” she demanded. He moved, sitting back in the water and staring at his chest as if it had grown a head …which it had. A dragon’s head. Exotica scrambled back away from him, amethyst droplets glittering on her pale skin. “What have you done to me?” he asked. Where he touched, a fire raged beneath his skin as if it were alive and recognized the feel of his fingers. Like a favored pet, it sought to bore completely through the hindrance of his skin in order to fully receive his touch. “I didn’t do anything to you in regards to that mark,” Exotica said, getting to her feet. “That is you. It is the mark of the Royal House of Oea. You asked who Kaliban is. Prince Kaliban of the Royal House of Oea is your brother, Cambion.” He chuckled softly. It sounded so ludicrous. “I am a demon prince.” “Yes,” Exotica said. She crossed the room and waved her hand over an empty space in the floor. An ivory column rose. She rummaged around inside it and produced a small jar. “This will ease the pain.” She came to him, kneeling beside him. She dipped her fingers into the jar of smooth white cream and ran it across the metal rings in his chest. The relief was instant, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he shuddered under the warmth of her careful touch. He realized her trick only an instant before the heady drug began to affect him, spreading a cool numbness throughout his burning flesh. Panic enveloped him and he reached for her, clutching at her silky white shoulders. He realized in that moment that he would never have the ability to really hurt her. He found her beautiful. And he didn’t understand that. She could be so cruel. She smiled. “It won’t put you to sleep this time,” she promised. “Only calm you.” “Why?” he asked, his eyelids drooping of their own accord, his hands slipping against the cool wetness of her skin.
“To assuage my guilt a little,” she whispered, leaning into him and pressing a kiss against his lips. The taste of her mouth was familiar and soothing, and he found himself leaning back from the slight pressure she applied. She followed him down to the waters, her breasts pressed against his chest, her hands in his hair. The jar of medicine fell to the floor forgotten. “Watch this,” she said with a wicked smile. “Cori’la” The room shifted before his eyes, the mattress upon which he had slept turned in on itself and descended beneath the pale purple waters. The column she had just raised and retrieved the medication from slid back into the floor. Within moments, the room was completely desolate, empty except for them. “Sha,” she whispered. The light in the room dimmed to a dull gray and purple rain began to fall, softly at first and then with the violence of a thunderstorm. The amethyst stones in the ceiling glowed and then darkened to black. A tiny stream of electricity crackled across their darkened tips and a peal of thunder rolled. He smiled. “I had a dream like this,” he said in wonder. It was alien to him to say those words, and with them the dream came back in stunning clarity. She let the wonder exist for a few more moments before whispering in her soft alien language for it to calm to a light rain. “You are half-human,” Exotica said. “All your life you thought you were a human male, but you aren’t. Cambion, you are our prince. You did not dream because your mother did not want your father, our king, to find you in the human world. I broke her spell because it became necessary to free you. Your brother found out of your existence and ordered you killed. I could not let that happen. I have some stake in your continued existence.” “And the pain?” he asked. “Makes your dick hard,” she whispered. He turned to her. “I am not fond of pain, Lady, or humiliation.” “Tell that to your cock.” He reached out and touched her shining, emerald-studded hair. He didn’t want to argue with her. The drug had calmed his fury, eased his confusion and pain. There was a part of him that recognized that he should fear her, fear her cruelty. But desire swept that fear away, making it very small, incredibly insignificant. “What stock do you have in continuing my life?” he asked. “What did my brother do to you to send you running to me? She touched the bizarre design on his chest, and it pulsed toward the warmth of her touch, sending a strong shot of desire through him that went directly to his loins. “He discarded me,” she said, her eyes lowering with the painful honesty of her words. “But that was not the worst part of his betrayal. Such things are simply the way here. I am unfit for my station. I have the cursed ability to actually care for my lovers. As a Lady, I should not. Only the Royals are allowed their emotions, and the rogue bands that exist in the murkiest pits of Lower Oea. I was little more than a pretty toy to him— manufactured for pleasure—and I tried to understand that. He sold me, and to a creature who is known for his cruelty. Duke Uriel makes a practice of killing off his lovers. So when I found out about you, I thought to use you to secure myself a place with the king by bringing back his lost son.” Cambion considered her words. He considered his brother, the kingdom. “And am I just a pretty toy to you, Lady?” he asked. “When and if you achieve your goal and your freedom is in your hands, will you be done using me then?”
She flinched visibly beneath the heavy rain. “You will be king,” she said. “If we succeed, you will rule all of Oea. Isn’t that enough for you? A kingdom? And I saved your life. Let’s not just overlook that fact.” He smiled and watched the imitation lightning play over the darkness of the ceiling. “If I became king over my brother, I could keep you, couldn’t I?” She looked at him as though she had never even considered that option. He knew then that he had to have her. She excited him in ways no woman ever had. It wasn’t just her beauty. He’d had beautiful women before. She seemed lonely to him, as lonely and strangely disconnected as he had always been. They shared an inability to connect in the worlds that they had been born into. And she hadn’t bored him once since the moment he’d met her. She terrified him too much. The smile that crossed his face came with the certainty that he had to have her, that he would have her. “I think the human in you has driven you insane,” she said softly. He thought it was the demon in him that was crazy because it was exhilarated, determined to possess her. The human part of him was cringing in terror. Cambion decided that he liked the interesting duality of those emotions almost as much as he liked her. * Exotica jumped as someone pounded frantically on the door of the chamber. She scrambled to her feet, calling for the rain to stop. She looked at the door as if it were a dangerous beast, while the pounding on the other side increase in fury and intensity. She moved to place a shaking hand on the Com, but before she could touch the instrument Kaliban’s voice roared at her. “Open this cursed door!” he demanded. She touched the Com and she saw him, the Duke standing a few paces behind, while a crowd of interested onlookers gathered slowly around them. “What do you want, Prince Kaliban?” she asked. “You,” he said, “to come out here.” Was the insanity that had so captured her life of late catching? Exotica wondered. Kaliban had always been the very picture of desensitized composure from the moment she had met him. Yet, there he was standing outside her rented door, yelling for all of Lower Oea to hear and shaking with barely controlled rage. Her mind raced to figure out what to do. Obeying him came naturally to her, but this was a life and death situation. Kaliban could not know about Cambion until it was too late for him to do anything about it … until Cambion could defend himself. “I do not want to come out there,” she said, finally. She flinched visibly from the expression that crossed his face at her words. Mostly his expression was filled with disbelief that she had denied him anything … disbelief and then rage as he absorbed the reality of her denial. “Exotica,” he said slowly, carefully, obviously trying to curb his tongue. “You haven’t been to your own home in three days. I have been told that you tarry here with some … slave.” He spat the last word as if it were a curse. She heard the rattle of Cambion’s chains, his footsteps as he crossed the chamber to her. He danced on the fringes of her vision in the darkened chamber. She put out a hand to stop him. He drew closer anyway, close enough to see the face reflected in the Com. He cursed.
And Kaliban heard him. Eyes wide with disbelief, Cambion moved closer to the Com. Exotica placed a staying hand on his chest to keep him from moving within Kaliban’s view. The eyes on the other side of the Com had narrowed to blue slits at the sound of Cambion’s voice. “Open the door, Exotica,” Kaliban said, his voice deceptively soft compared to the storm that was burning in the blue lenses of his gaze. She couldn’t talk, couldn’t make herself deny him again. She shook her head instead. “Okay,” he said, the muscles in his jaw doing a dangerous dance beneath his skin. “You are not to miss another Coronation Ball, Exotica.” “Yes, Kaliban,” she answered immediately. He leaned into the Com screen, until all his face disappeared but for the perfect sculpture that was his mouth. “If you are not at the next Coronation Ball something terrible is going to happen to that creature that has so captured your attention. Do you understand me?” He did not wait for her to answer, but turned his rigid back on the Com screen and stalked off. The Duke followed. Exotica nearly collapsed in relief. Her heart pounded in her chest as if it were trying to escape the confinement of her ribcage. “I’m going to take you home,” she said to Cambion. “We’re not safe here anymore.” “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked. If there had been any more ice in the cool, clipped syllables, she would have frozen to death where she stood. Exotica closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to control the insane beating of her heart. She knew he was talking about the fact that Kaliban was his very twin. She looked up at him. He looked exactly like his brother now, down to the dangerous, expectant expression on his handsome face. She groaned. How had she gotten herself into this? “What difference does it make?” she asked. “It just further proves to you that you are undeniably the Prince of Oea. I don’t see why you are so angry, Cambion.” Legs apart, arms crossed and folded over his chest, he scowled. “It makes a hell of a difference when it comes to you, Lady,” he said darkly. She paused a minute to take his words in. Sometimes he said the strangest, most marvelous things. She felt his words somewhere deep in the very core of her, stirring her desire, making her think beyond her chosen task. When he had said that he would have her when and if he became king, she had suppressed the urge to throw herself into his arms. But she would not be a fool twice, especially not for the mirror image of the creature that had made a fool of her the first time. “Me?” she whispered. “I am a broken Lady in a kingdom full of such creatures. When you are king, you will find a thousand other pleasant, soft distractions.” He laughed, the sound a soft chuckle at first that turned into deep, hearty guffaws. “Pleasant and soft,” he said, barely able to catch his breath to form the words. He doubled over with laughter. “You…” Exotica began. She couldn’t think of anything bad enough to call him. The smile that curved her lips came wholly unbidden, and then she was completely infected with his laughter. It felt good to laugh, and she couldn’t remember the last time she had done it so freely. He had her before she knew it, his hand in her hair bending her neck back so that he could rain hot kisses on that tender flesh. She pushed him away firmly.
He didn’t have to let her go, but he did. And waited. Exotica smiled. His mistake. “If you want me, you’re going to have to come and get me, Cambion,” she said. “R’ja,” she whispered, and the chain at his ankle grew taut as she took a step backwards, just out of his reach. “You want me to break this one, too?” he breathed. “You can’t. It is strong enough to hold an incubus, even an Incubus Prince.” “So what then?” he asked, annoyed. “What trial must I perform to have you? Or would you rather stick pins in me … burn hot coals against my skin? What is it this time, Lady? “You know, you don’t put the proper respect in that word,” Exotica said thoughtfully. He sighed. “Yes, Lady, I’m sure that I don’t. Can I fuck you now?” “Maybe, if you are very, very good.” “I’m always good,” he said with a wicked grin. “True enough,” she replied. “Not the point though.” “Then what is the point, pray tell?” She circled him, careful to stay just out of his reach. “I am your Lady, and you do not respect me, Cambion. This blatant lack of respect must be rectified.” “Ah,” he said, “we’re playing at this again.” “How many times must I remind you that this is not a game?” “I told you that I can’t hear you from way over there.” Exotica sighed. “Do you know how easy it would be for me to beat you senseless? A simple spoken command and you’re all chained up again, helpless. How much more of your mockery do you think I’m going to take before I do just that?” “I am to be king, remember?” he said, with a sardonic grin. “You’ll pay for all of this eventually. That I can promise you.” “If you live,” Exotica said darkly. “Kaliban will never get to you. I might just kill you myself.” “Come over here and try,” he whispered. The whisper went all the way through her, stroking liquid fire in her very cells, igniting them and causing her skin to burn with need. She marveled at the feeling that he had inspired with the heated challenge in his words. Such a hot rush of desire and he hadn’t even touched her. She felt drawn to him, compelled to move in his direction and give up the safety of her position. She shook her head to clear it of the momentary spell he had cast over her. “I think you are afraid,” he said, his voice still in that silken, whispery tone. She knew that he was right, knew it and still rebelled against the idea. Cambion is not Kaliban, she reminded herself, no matter how much he looks like him. That is where your confusion comes from. Even their mothers could not tell the difference between them. These things you think you feel for the Cambion, they are directed at Kaliban. Understand this, Exotica and move on. There is work to be done yet. Exotica groaned. Pretty words but they were not true. Looks aside, Cambion was nothing like his brother. He did not treat her like a toy and then get uncharacteristically mad when he couldn’t play with her anymore. Cambion is, she thought, Cambion is … different. Suddenly, she was terrified of him. She moved across the chamber and pulled the phallus that would open the door to the
rented chamber’s spacious closet. She would send her servants to retrieve her things later. She had to get out of this chamber, get him in a place that was more familiar to her. The chamber was like an island away from everything and everyone else. She had spent too much time with Cambion. She had even oiled his wounds herself, a thing that was unheard of in a Lord or Lady’s dealings with a slave. And that’s what he was to her, a slave and nothing more. If she did her job right, he would be free soon enough, her chains and her collar gone from him. He would belong to the Royal House of Oea, with all the privileges that came with being the purest of Oeaian royalty. Cambion would have hundreds of Ladies at his beck and call. He would forget about her. The thought brought a terrible sadness as she shifted through the racks of clothing, searching for something suitable. She cursed her wretched emotions and tuned out the sound of his questioning voice in the background. “What are you doing?” he asked. “I thought you wanted me to catch you or some such nonsense. I thought we were going to play.” “No,” she said, drawing a long ebony cloak from within the closet and giving it a critical eye for length and width. She checked the clasp carefully—the Royal Design had to be covered completely, not an inch of that flesh could show. “What the hell, Exotica,” he said, his voice aching with disappointment. “Do not call me that,” she turned and hissed. “He calls you Exotica,” he said with a growl. “Kaliban is not my slave,” she said, making her voice cold, “You are.” She could have sworn she saw him flinch there in the darkness. “Put this on,” she told him, tossing the cloak at him. She found another tiny velvet hood in the closet. Holding it in her hands, she waited until he had drawn the cloak about himself. She spoke a soft word to the chamber so that the lights glowed brightly, the stones above her head the regular amethyst tone. He was simply staring at her, his blue eyes glittering dangerously. She whispered another word to the collar and the cords within it shot out lightning fast, wrapping around the broad muscles of his arms and shoulders, moving like serpents while he struggled against the prospect of being bound again. The strong cords moved, heedless of his struggles, drawing his arms behind his back and wrapping tightly around his wrists. She moved toward him when he was suitably confined and dropped the hood over his enraged face, blotting the cruel vision. He did not speak. “Let’s go home, Cambion,” she told him, and a cord snaked from within the collar, a thin silver chain by which she could lead him.
Chapter Nine Cambion journeyed with Exotica from Lower Oea to Middle Oea. Blinded by a hood, he was not privy to the sights of the city, but the sounds were enough to inspire dark thoughts within him, murky thoughts. Lower Oea was filled with the sounds of screams, some from passion, some from pain, and some from an intermingling of the two that was so strong he couldn’t tell the difference. He and Exotica threaded carefully through a massive crowd with very little space between bodies. He heard eerie pipe music dancing over everything, its rhythm slow and achingly hypnotic, laced with the fevered whimpering and moaning of some denizens of the crowd. He felt hands on him—what seemed like hundreds of hands as he tried to move through the press of bodies. He heard the compliments to Exotica on the magnificence of her slave, the sheer physical perfection of him and might they see his face … where, oh, where did she get him … and the like. Hands slid over his ass, down his thighs, over the sensitive flesh of his cock. He had no idea who was touching him, but as he moved out of the grasp of one, he was touched by another until his world seemed to be composed of a thousand sensations, nails raking over his flesh, hands teasing here and there. The delighted giggles and sighs of those who were fondling him. Exotica only complained once, when a pair of questing hands strayed too close to uncovering the mark on his chest. And then they were in some kind of elevator being propelled upwards. Where the lift stopped was far quieter than the riotous place they’d left behind. Their walk was short over a flat, slick floor that felt only slightly unnatural beneath his feet. He recognized Alli’s voice immediately as the door opened, heard her soft exclamation of surprise as he was ushered inside a dwelling that smelled of sweet honey and lavender. His feet sank into the soft rug that covered the floor, and Exotica moved quickly, fairly dragging him past the servant. Suddenly, he felt rough hands dragging across his flesh, lust-filled claws digging into his skin. As he fought them, he heard Exotica’s cold voice. “He is little more than a slave,” she said, “to be used in whatever manner pleases you.” As the unseen surged on him, compelled, near frenzied, the new place she’d taken him to ceased its deceptive quiet. He heard the terrified screaming of hundreds of helpless slaves. The sound became louder and louder as he fought those that had him. The noise spiraled into a horrific crescendo of pain and terror… Cambion jerked awake in a wide, soft bed that rocked gently in the open air. His first thought beyond the nightmare was that someone had mercifully removed that infernal hood. The white light of the chamber flooded his vision. The bed was suspended on cables that hung from the ceiling at all four corners. He was covered in a thin sheet of crimson velvet. He tested his limbs and found himself bound by the ankle on a thin chain that led off the bed and was attached to a far wall. He sat up, moved to the edge of the bed, and let himself drop to the floor below. He didn’t remember falling asleep. He didn’t remember arriving at the dwelling in which he was now imprisoned. The drug she had used to sedate him must have erased all those things from his mind. The last thing he remembered in any detail was a door opening and
Alli’s surprised voice as Exotica issued order after order. He looked at the bed suspended several feet in the air above his head and wondered how in the hell he had gotten up there. A small round pool behind a circle of fat white candles bubbled invitingly in the center of the room just beneath the bed. His aching muscles craved the promise of the steam that rose from it. On the other side of the room, just before a full-length mirror with a yellowed ivory frame, there was a small table with a series of covered dishes resting upon it. The carpet on the floor was a deep crimson, and the walls sparkled, an unnatural light issuing from within lending a white tone to the room. Cambion tested the length of his chain and found that he could travel the length and the width of the room quite easily. He went to the heavy golden door that would lead out. It was cold beneath his touch, and he placed his ear against it and heard nothing from the other side. There was no knob. With a growl of frustration for his continued slavery, Cambion ignored the delicious scent of the food issuing from beneath the silver tray covers, went back to the pool, and slid within the depths of the hot water. He wondered where Exotica had gone as he allowed the water to slip over his head. He did not care for the fact that she had left him, didn’t care for it at all. He wondered how long he had been sleeping. How long had she been gone, and what she was doing? He remembered Kaliban’s order, and thoughts of the demon prince brought about a terrible surge of jealousy in him, as well as a strange disorientation. His brother. His twin. He remembered studying Kaliban’s face as it had appeared to him in the screen that had flickered on the door of his original prison. That face had been his own down to the very last detail, eye color and all. It had been strange seeing his own face so close without a mirror. Envy quickly ate up these thoughts, replacing them with more dangerous ones. Was Exotica with Kaliban even now? he wondered darkly. The prince had ordered her presence, hadn’t he? Kaliban had not acted like a man who had thrown a woman away. The rage that had been reflected in his face had spoken of possession. For a creature that Exotica claimed came from a race devoid of emotion, Cambion had seen plenty of emotion reflected in Kaliban’s expression. “Kaliban is not my slave,” he recalled her saying, her voice cold. “You are.” To Exotica, he was a slave one moment and a prince the next—whatever was most convenient to her argument. The words had brought about an insane rage within him, one so deep and so compelling that his only defense against surrendering to those dark emotions had been complete and utter silence. When he couldn’t stand not breathing any longer, he rose from beneath the waters. “I was fairly certain you were trying to kill yourself,” Exotica said softly. She was kneeling at the edge of the pool, her amber eyes watching him intently. She was wearing a short white skirt. Glittering rubies trailed up her legs to her thighs on a thin silver chain, the lines of jewels ending in a crisscross across the flat of her belly. Her top was composed of the same pale silken material as the skirt. It left most of the twin globes of her breasts available to the roving eye, covering only the rose-tipped nipples, and those just barely. Her inky hair was piled up on her head in a glorious array with silken tendrils that curled delicately and fell across her shoulders. In one hand she held a dangerous
looking black lash. He gave that a wary eye, which made her smile wickedly. “This isn’t for you,” she said. “Kaliban has ordered this accessory for his latest ball. Of course, if you keep looking at me like that I could be tempted into putting it to other uses.” “No, thank you.” He gripped the edge of the pool and pulled himself out. “You didn’t eat,” she said with some concern. “It seems slavery isn’t doing much for my appetite,” he said. A flicker of darkness crossed the amber lenses of her eyes. “It will be over soon enough, Cambion. You’ll be free. I will no longer have any hold on you.” He cocked his head to one side and stared at her hard, trying to read the dark emotion that had come upon her with those words. “Exotica…” he began. He wasn’t even sure what he was going to say; he was reacting to the look in her eyes, the sudden sadness that he read there. She flicked the lash across the flesh of his wet thigh, fast. He hissed at the slight flare of pain and grabbed the lash as she tried to draw it back. They struggled for it, and when she saw that he was not going to let go, she said, “You may well be the worst love slave ever.” “I’ve told you time and again, woman, I am no slave,” he said, snatching the lash completely away from her. “Cambion, I need that!” “Really?” he said, “Think you’d be willing to trade for it, Lady?” Her eyes narrowed. “Kaliban ordered…” “Your prince threw you away. I would never do anything that stupid. Do you want to trade for the lash or not?” He leaned over and grasped one delicate white ankle, running his hand up her jeweled leg to the knee. Her whole body shuddered slightly underneath his touch. He watched her nipples flower beneath the cloth of her top. “I’m going to be late,” she protested. “So?” He tugged at her leg, and she slid to her ass. He pulled her to him along the edge of the pool until she was so near he could smell the lavender scent of her over the honey and lilac that permeated the room. “I’m going to hurt you for this,” she warned. “If you give me the lash now, we can forget it ever happened.” He kissed her. He wasn’t in the mood for her threats. Her hot mouth opened beneath his, and then she returned his kiss savagely, her hands burying themselves in his hair, pulling so that their mouths seemed locked together. He had to tear his mouth from hers. She panted, her breast rising and falling to an insane rhythm from within. “You want me, Lady. Admit it,” he whispered. “I want to keep you alive,” she breathed. “I do not wish to be Duke Uriel’s next victim. I want to gain the affection of the old king, and the debt of the new one. These are the things that I want, Cambion.” He shook his head. “Wrong answers.” He used the lash to draw the thin material of her skirt up over her hips. The thin black material that covered her cunt was wet. “Your body betrays you. I’ve barely touched you, and … look.” “My body has been redesigned to respond to touch,” she said. “Any touch, smart ass.”
He placed his hand against the hot place between her legs, and her hips rose to meet his touch despite the flashing defiance in her eyes. “How interesting,” he said, sliding the panties over her hips and down her legs. “Were you redesigned to be a slave then, Lady?” “Don’t do this, Cambion, I…” She gasped as his fingers toyed with the silken curls that covered her cunt. He grinned. “Don’t do what?” His fingers slid into the hot wetness between velvet soft lips. He touched her clit and watched her buck. Her golden eyes darkened with desire. “I could keep you,” she said, and he noticed a hint of sadness in her voice. “You’re so close, but I would rather keep you. I’d even endure the Duke … to keep you hidden away here in my chambers.” He had no idea what madness had inspired that little rant. He had no intention of going anywhere. She was his; he had decided that already. He had never met a woman like her, a woman as exciting, as filled with passion. He didn’t care anything about being a prince, less about the world outside the chamber. He had no regrets about leaving behind the world he had known. His mind had one focus. Exotica. “Did you hear me?” she asked as his finger slid inside her. “I would keep you a slave forever.” “I am not a slave,” he reminded her softly. “No,” she gasped, “you are my prince … and I must let you go.” She leaned upwards, her hands grasping his throat, her dark and dangerous fingernails very close to his jugular. “You asked me if I was redesigned to be a slave. I was designed to pleasure my lover. Whatever my lover is into, that is what I was designed to be. However, my programming did not exactly take—the techno-mages failed to extinguish the emotions that would make me selective about taking lovers to my bed, but not in the innate knowledge of what pleases a potential lover. I have a hard time controlling myself sometimes … like now. I know better than to want you. I know that I should keep my distance emotionally, that the things we do are nothing more than a training program to awaken the incubus in you…” His breath slid out of him in a low hiss as she climbed into his lap, her legs wrapping possessively around his waist. Her grip was hard; his cock went rigid against the silk and velvet softness of her cunt. “And I know that you don’t want to master me, Cambion. You think you do. You think you should. But you don’t. You like it when I’m in control.” She leaned into him, first her warm breath against the design on his chest and then her tongue. She traced the design roughly, setting his skin on fire. “You think that I don’t know you, Cambion?” she whispered, her teeth grazing over the heated flesh of his chest, causing a terrible ache to shoot through him in hot waves that rocked his aching cock. “I was born to know such things … as were you. Now tell me again, what is it that I want?” She bit him then, her teeth sinking into the design, very quickly, but firm. The pain was phenomenal. It wasn’t the bite itself that hurt, but his flesh’s unnatural reaction to the pain she had caused. Another more solid pain slid through him like it was a living thing underneath his skin. She drew back, leaving a slight impression of her teeth on his flesh. As it bubbled and boiled beneath her assault, she looked at him expectantly. “What do I want?” she asked again. The fleshy ridges of the design pulsed painfully. He watched as the skin broke bloodlessly and the design pressed itself outward and into the white light of the room. He
was mesmerized by the betrayal of his aching flesh even as he grasped her hips and pulled her molten hot sex down over his throbbing cock. “Damn you, woman, what have you done to me now?” he breathed as he thrust upwards and her hips fell to meet his greedily. Her hands curled in his hair, grasping the locks and pulling until their lips met again. She moaned into his mouth as the muscles in her cunt locked around his cock, teasing every frantic, pounding inch inside her, and her legs wrapped around him hard, crushing the breath from him. Cambion was lost in the hot wetness of her when he felt the slight shifting along the edges of his spine and the shoulder blades at his back. He felt her hitching breaths and tasted the salt of her tears around the edges of their joined lips. The fact that she was crying seemed to have no effect on the savage way she was undulating against his cock, driving her body against his. “What?” he tried to ask, but she just crushed his mouth more closely to hers, snatching at his hair when he tried to get away from her. Her body jerked spasmodically against him as she came, the muscles inside her hot sheath clenching cruelly around the shaft of his cock until he exploded inside her. She looked at him, and her tears were red. “Cambion, you’re flying,” she said. His hand had moved to wipe the crimson tears from her face when he looked down. The pool bubbled far below. He faltered in the open air. She giggled and touched something on his collar. He felt a pull on the chain around his ankle as the thing slowly pulled him back to the ground. She wrapped her arms around his neck as they descended. “New wings are always hard to manage,” she whispered. “You will get used to them soon enough.” Cambion looked behind him to see the large bat-like wings, blood red at the tips, stirring in the empty air. His mind tried to wrap around the fact that those monstrous things were attached to him, that somewhere beyond the heated passion of the woman in his arms, he had felt them being born at his back. “Look,” she said, her hot breath against his chest. The design stood out in bright gold against his flesh. A jeweled eye, ruby red, glittered in the dragon’s head. “I will present you to your father tomorrow, Prince of Oea.” “Lady, why are you crying?” he asked. She eased out of his grasp and moved to pick up the lash. She grasped the thing in her hands and walked away from him, crossing the room to the door that led beyond the chamber. “Pay me no heed,” she said softly, brushing her hand across the door. It opened to an ivory and silver-flecked hallway beyond, “I am a silly, broken excuse for a succuba, my prince. I am your Lady no more. I am just Exotica, and you will quickly find that I am one of many.” “Exotica,” he called. She ignored him completely. The door shut behind her. Cambion stared at himself reflected in the full-length mirror on the other side of the room—the glittering design in metal that had been born from his chest, the massive inky wings that rode behind his back. He was not having trouble comprehending the change. It was how the change made him feel that he didn’t quite understand. He felt … good. He felt like he was in his own skin for the first time in his life. He felt as if his whole existence had been a series of the dreams that had been denied him for so long … and he was finally awake.
He wanted her with him now. “What do I want?” she had asked him not once, but thrice. It came to him clear as a bell, writhing in vivid detail in the shadows of his mind. The two of them locked together on the white beach that had been his first dream, the dream that had been her gift to him. “Me,” he said, and a grin split his face. “You want me. Isn’t that what I said the first time, foolish woman?” He stretched his wings and left the ground. He headed for the ceiling, teetering only a little with the strength of his determination. The chain around his ankle pulled tight. He fought it.
Chapter Ten Exotica stepped out of the servant’s showers and into the towel that Alli held ready for her. She dried quickly and hurried into the dress the young succuba held out for her. The black silk clung to her as she brushed her hair free so that it hung to her ankles. She didn’t bother with shoes, but fled the small chamber and then her quarters entirely, racing up the silver-strewn streets until she came to a transport that would take her to Upper Oea. The last thing she wanted was for Kaliban to come storming into her chambers to find her captured demon prince … his brother, contender for his throne. Her Cambion. She almost stopped running as the possessiveness of that realization hit her. The ache it caused within her breast was as sharp as any dagger’s edge. He wouldn’t be hers much longer. Soon enough, Cambion would belong to all of Oea. Throne or not, Cambion was a Prince of the Royal House and beyond her in a way that could never be breached. She could never be anything more than his toy. How could she be when there would be so many other beautiful and willing Ladies at his beck and call? Still, I saved him, she thought. I am saving him even now. And I saved myself. That was what all of this was about, wasn’t it? I didn’t want to die at Uriel’s hands. These silly, useless emotions will fade. I will be fine and I will be free and I will choose another lover … perhaps several others. And Cambion will be alive. I did that. I saved my love… Love? The word rocked her. She shook her head, tried to shake the dreaded, cursed emotion off. It was unnatural for a creature of her kind. Lust, yes, but not love. It is because he looks like Kaliban, she thought. Just like Kaliban. I am confused, transferring the lingering things I felt for one to the other. It’s not real. It can’t be. I have just become caught up in these stupid, disgusting human-like affections that those worthless technomages could not rid me of. Exotica raced up the gold-paved streets of Upper Oea, past the garden where she had first heard of Cambion’s existence and through the tall doors that led to the Carnal Chamber. The room was draped in shadow, the lights dimmed. All was silent within, and for a moment, she just stood there in stunned disbelief. The Vid-screens—which were always on, playing the passions of sleeping humanity—were black and silent. The few people that were present in the darkened room turned to her, a terrible accusation in their eyes. “What is wrong?” she whispered, feeling very, very small underneath the weight of their combined stares. “The prince is missing!” the Duke said, his voice booming in the chamber. “He cannot be found in all of Oea!” It was then that Exotica noticed King Nauru. He was staring at her with hard eyes that glimmered steel in the shadowy darkness of the chamber, his crimson robes set about him in bloody disarray. His white hair was disheveled. “We found blood,” the king growled, “my son’s blood and a dagger from the House of Copper!” Exotica took an unsteady step backward, her heart pounding furiously in her chest. She could not look away from the dagger. It was engraved with the copper insignia from her own house. She watched as the king dropped the offending weapon and it clattered to
the floor, leaving little droplets of congealing blood in a spray across the Vid-screen it landed upon. The king stood flanked by two techno-mages. Their eyes glowed red from behind the cover of darkened hoods. Ever silent, both raised gray, emaciated hands and pointed accusatory fingers at her. She felt bodies crowd into the chamber behind her. She turned to face the Guards of the Royal House of Oea. Two of the guards grabbed her by the arms in vice-like grips as if they thought she might run away. Exotica couldn’t run, she couldn’t think beyond her dagger being tossed on the floor by the hand of the king, the dagger smeared with Kaliban’s blood. “Your Highness, I…” she said, and then she was spun around, her flesh bruised by the big hands that were trying to hold her still. The Duke’s face came very close to hers. His green eyes glittered cruelly. “Silence, betrayer!” King Nauru’s voice boomed. “It is my son’s blood! Do you think I would not know the scent?” Uriel’s hand came down across the side of her face. White lightning exploded in her mind. She thought her neck might snap from the sheer force of the blow, and she went limp, tears welling in her eyes. “What have you done with the prince?” Uriel hissed. “What horror has the taint of your insanity caused? We know it was you, Lady Exotica. You could not stand that Kaliban cast you off, so you murdered him! Your own dagger stands as evidence to your crime. We all saw you smash the Vid-screen in a fit of rage at the Coronation Ball! Your taint has spread to all of Oea! You have slain our beloved prince!” “No!” Exotica screamed as her arms were twisted cruelly behind her back. “Your Highness, I must speak with you…” The Duke hit her again, and this time her world turned gray, threatened blackness. She slumped in the arms of her captors. “She must be executed,” the Duke demanded to the murmuring, horrified spectators. “But first I will have the truth of her deed from her own lips! And I will know where my dear cousin’s body lies!” He grabbed a fist full of her hair and shook Exotica until her teeth rattled in her head. His head came very close to her ear. His voice was a serpent’s whisper. “I have you now, bitch!” Distantly, as if through a heavy wall, Exotica heard the voice of the king. It was a sad voice filled with grief and slow dawning horror. “So be it, Uriel. Find my son. Bring me what remains of Kaliban, dead or alive. Exotica of the House of Copper, your father was a loyal and honorable citizen of Oea. He was beloved by me. It pains me that his seed could spawn such vile treachery. You are cast out, viper, the line of Copper eradicated!” The room spun. Exotica’s world dissolved to sheerest black. **** She awoke in chains. She was hanging, her back resting against a cold, wet wall, her arms shackled above her head, supporting the weight of her body. Her legs were spread wide apart and cuffed to that selfsame wall. The sound of pain-filled gasping drove her from her wretched sleep. Standing in a pile of his own discarded silk clothing, pale,
naked, and grunting with the strength of his endeavors, Duke Uriel hunched over the crouched body of that love slave with which Exotica had some carnal familiarity. The love slave was captured in a contraption made of wood, his head caught in tight circles that held him still. Light from a single Vid-screen embedded in the floor beneath him illuminated his profile. His legs trembled with the effort to stay in the bent, half-crouched position that the contraption required while the Duke pounded into him cruelly, ruthlessly, from behind. Exotica watched the pale cheeks of his ass jiggle from the assault, and a terrible sympathy rose in her as she heard him choking on his cries of pleasure and pain. She turned away from that horror and glanced around into the candlelit flickers of the darkened room. A blond head slumped down over the design of the Royal House of Oea caught her attention. The design and the weeping, angry red lash marks that laced the body that bore it. His hair covered most of his distorted face. His eyes were closed and swollen. His hair wound in the collar about his throat, and he was suspended, several inches above the stone floor, by a chain that was wound tightly in the length of his hair. She watched him for several seconds to see if his chest rose and fell with the breath of life. She couldn’t tell as the candlelight played tricks with her eyes. “Kaliban?” she whispered. He stirred at the word, but his eyes did not open. The Duke turned to her as he rocked with the strength of his orgasm. “He looks better now, doesn’t he?” he said. “Less arrogant.” She shook her head in horror. “Uriel, what have you done? He is our prince.” Uriel sneered and pulled his semi-erection out of the jerking, moaning body of his slave. “He treated you just as poorly as he treated me, Exotica, so don’t pretend like you don’t enjoy seeing him like this. I’ve only just begun with him … and you.” He came very close to her and then reached on a small table that was near. The bloody dagger rested upon it. He picked the weapon up, twirling it in his fingers. He turned the weapon on her suddenly, tearing at the silken cloth of her dress, splitting the material down the middle until it gave and fell from her like wet rice paper. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath the dress, and she was naked before him, black shreds of cloth at her feet. He caught her face in his hands, his nails digging into her cheeks. “I never saw what he saw in you. You’re an irrational creature.” He moved one hand and used it to flick her nipple. She flinched away from the pain. “I’m irrational?” she couldn’t help but say. “You’ve kidnapped the prince of the realm, tortured your own blood. And framed me for your crime. Why, Uriel? Why?” “I have decided that I should be king,” he said, brushing his lips against hers. She hated her body at that moment, the things the techno-mages had managed to do to her. His lips were soft, unnaturally soft for a male. Her nipples hardened of their own will, and a low thrill of desire stirred in the pit of her belly. She shook her head, twisting out of his repulsive kiss. “With Kaliban gone, I am the next in line. I hadn’t thought much about it, really. I was content. But then, Kaliban let me in on his little secret. And after inquiring into that secret, I discovered a ghastly truth. Kaliban, for all his arrogance, for all his beauty, is not fit to be King of Oea! He’s half-human! A mongrel!” Exotica almost stopped breathing. The Duke’s emerald eyes glittered, thinking that he recognized the emotion in her gaze as horror at the news he had revealed. In truth, Exotica’s mind was elsewhere, back in her bedchamber with the gorgeous piece of man
flesh she had chained there. It only made sense, she thought, that they shared the same mother, the same human mother. “But how?” she whispered. “Our great and glorious king,” he said, spitting the last word, “wed a barren Royal. Queen A’jyan was incapable of providing King Nauru with an heir. Nauru impregnated a human woman that he was overly fond of. Upon seeing the sheer perfection of the sons that she bore him, he made an agreement with that human woman to take one of them for his own. The human suspected that he wanted both. She ran away with the child she had. Kaliban was raised as Prince of the Realm. Nauru never stopped searching for his other son.” “He’ll kill you for what you have done to Kaliban,” Exotica spat. Uriel laughed. “Uncle Nauru will never know. Just as he never knew that Kaliban’s wet nurse told him of his brother’s existence, minus the details of Kaliban’s own link to humanity, of course. And Kaliban told me those details recently, and I hunted the Cambion for him, staying just under the radar of Nauru’s spies, who were also searching for the creature. I had to kill that old nurse to get the truth out of her. She did not die easy, but she made it fun. And she talked before she died. She sang.” Kaliban’s voice was loud in the room. Exotica watched the Duke flinch at the sound. “I am going to cut out your heart … and eat it, Uriel,” he said. The Duke spun around, forgetting Exotica, his eyes on the demon prince. “Have you learned nothing, mutt?” he asked. “You’re only still alive because I haven’t broken you yet, made real the little fantasy you’ve been stirring in my loins since I was old enough to realize what my loins were good for. Your beauty and my anticipation buy you a little time, Kaliban. Your empty threats mean nothing to me. I can do anything I want to you now, anything at all. Your father, all of Oea, already thinks that you are dead, murdered by the mad thing you chose to bed.” Kaliban’s blue gaze flickered to Exotica. For a terrible moment she was confused as to whom she was looking at, so achingly similar were the twin manifestations of her desire. Kaliban could still excite her with a glance, she found, even with eyes that were nearly swollen shut. His seduction of her body had been thorough. But while her flesh was confused at exactly which brother hung there, her mind was not. Her mind was what Cambion had seduced—her mind and her body. He had done it recklessly and completely. Suddenly, for Exotica, there was no more confusion. Her heart ached, staring into the familiar cobalt oceans of that all too familiar gaze. “You enjoy looking at this bitch so much,” Uriel snarled, whirling on her abruptly. He loomed with the bloodstained dagger clutched in one shaking hand, trailing the ice cold metal across the flesh of her face, pausing at her eyes. Exotica screamed as the dagger descended and stopped short. “She is a toy, Uriel,” Kaliban said, his voice cold. “She means even less to me than you do. And you are meaningless.” “Liar!” Uriel spat. “I saw you outside that rented chamber. Most of Oea saw you. I failed you once when your brother escaped my minions. This bit of flesh has been a failure since the techno-chamber spit her out wrong. And yet, she managed to hold your attention for over a year. Perhaps I’ll fuck her in front of you, mongrel, what do you think about that?” His answer was a roar so filled with helpless rage that it hurt Exotica to hear it. The Duke’s hands fumbled between her legs until he had parted the lips of her cunt and his
fingers slid across the hot button of her clit. Desire and repulsion jumped in her instantly, the duality of the feeling sickening. “Be a good little Lady,” the Duke whispered, placing the dagger back on the table, “and moan for me. We will get to screaming later. Right now, I want you to acknowledge that you are not as good as your betters. That you are little more than the fleshy toy that I just used a moment ago. Moan for me, Exotica, and tell me that you love me.” His fingers roved over the tender, sensitive piece of flesh at his disposal. He pinched it roughly, sending her body into violent spasms. His mouth clamped down over one hardened nipple, grazing the flesh with his teeth. Bile rose in Exotica’s throat. And then his fingers abandoned her clit and slid lower, slipping inside her. She screamed bucking against the invasion—utterly defying what the techno-mages had done to her. “My Lord,” came a soft, frightened voice. “You know better than to interrupt me, Jeris,” the Duke growled from around a mouthful of Exotica’s thrashing flesh. “Forgive me, my Lord,” the love slave said, his voice shaking a little, “but there is someone in your chambers.” Exotica had never been so relieved when the Duke tore away from her. Kaliban’s laughter was dark and murderous. “It seems my father doesn’t entirely trust you, Uriel. No doubt those are his spies. No one else would dare invade royal chambers.” The Duke’s eyes glittered wildly as he knelt by the love slave’s head and stared into the Vid-screen. “Is it the hood that’s confusing you, Jeris?” Uriel said softly. “Do you not know royalty when you gaze upon it? There, standing before you, dressed in the robe of a commoner and skulking about in my chambers like an ordinary thief is the King of Oea himself.” The Duke stood, picked up silken pants from the floor, and put them on. “This blatant display of mistrust offends me. It’s time we had a talk, King Nauru and I.” Exotica watched Kaliban go insane, and blood dripped on his skin as he tore at his scalp, thrashing against the bonds that held him suspended and helpless in the air. The Duke barely glanced at the captured prince. Uriel grabbed the dagger from its place on the table and departed his torture chamber, murder in his eyes.
Chapter Eleven Cambion heard soft weeping from the other side of the door as he struggled with the infernal thing clasped around his ankle. Exotica had been right, apparently. This was a chain he could not break. He allowed himself to fall, and when he touched the floor he went to the chamber door. “Alli?” he asked, thinking that he recognized the voice, even dissolved in tears. “Poor little Lord,” Alli whispered, “they’ve taken our Lady away.” A frosty terror began in Cambion’s breast around the region of his heart; it spread quickly, turning him cold. “Who has taken her away?” he asked, fighting to keep his voice calm against the sound of her intensified weeping. “The Duke has her,” Allie whispered, “interrogating her for the murder of the prince. They say she killed Kaliban, stabbed him to death with a dagger from this very house. I don’t believe them. She was broken, my Lady, but she was gentle…” Cambion couldn’t breathe. “Alli,” he said very softly, very carefully. “I need you to open this door.” “They’re going to kill her, little Lord,” Alli said as if she had not heard him. “And we will all be sold.” “Alli,” Cambion said, his teeth clenched. “Can you open the door, please?” She was silent for a moment. “I’m not supposed to,” she whispered finally, “not even to bring you food. She said she was going to see to you herself. Unheard of, but then, the Lady has always been strange.” “Well, she can’t see to me now, can she? She’s busy being killed,” he reminded her. There was another pause, and then the door opened with a mechanical snick. A petite blonde stood in the doorway. Her eyes, bloody from crying, were soft gray pools. Her mouth opened as she stared at him, and then she dropped to her feet, her forehead touching the floor. “My prince,” she whispered breathlessly. “What cruel game is this?” “The chain,” Cambion asked, not bothering to waste time trying to figure out what all her subservient babbling was about. “Can you get it off? She shook her head in the negative. She did not look up at him. Cambion growled in frustration and attacked the chain at his ankle with a vengeance that bordered on madness. Thoughts of Exotica flooded him mind, the horrifying realization that she could be dying and he was chained and helpless to do anything about it. “My prince,” Alli whispered, “I doubt you would like for your father to see you thus, therefore I will not call upon a techno-mage. However, Morag may be able to free you. It is rumored that she can do such magics.” “Get her,” Cambion ordered. “Run.” She fled, as if in terror, from the room. Cambion concentrated on the chain while she was gone. He was still tearing at it, having managed to bend the metal a little, when she came back—mere moments later and breathless—with the redhead in tow. Morag carried her little black satchel tossed carelessly over her shoulder. Cambion flinched at the sight of the thing.
“It is the prince,” Alli said to Morag. “The prince is dead,” Morag whispered. “He is not,” Alli said, guiding Morag’s hands to Cambion’s face. He stood still as the woman traced the lines and angles of his flesh, her hand creeping down his neck to trace the mark on his chest. “Kaliban,” Morag breathed finally, “I don’t understand. All of Oea is mourning your death. The Lady Exotica is being tortured even now…” “Get this damn chain off!” Cambion growled as Alli touched a wall to his right and began sorting through Exotica’s clothing. “There has to be something of yours in here,” the blonde whispered. Morag reached into her black bag and removed a small silver cylinder. She whispered several words in the alien language that Exotica favored and then pressed the cylinder against the collar at his throat. The collar fell away from him. “Your voice,” Morag said leaning in close so that only he could hear, “is kinder than his.” Alli handed him a pile of white cloth, and Cambion slipped into it without even looking at it. “Where do they have her?” he asked. “The Duke’s chambers,” Morag replied with a visible shudder. “Take me there.” The cities of Oea stretched out before him, but Cambion barely noticed the opulent beauty that teased his eyes as he followed the two women up the streets. He did, however, notice the stares of the denizens of Oea as he passed them. Their shocked whispers ran through the streets behind him. Several beautiful women curtsied prettily before him. He didn’t notice the menacing looking guards following until he climbed into the strange elevator and it shot from Middle Oea to Upper. The guards stared after the ascending elevator for a second and then began scurrying in all directions. “What was all that about?” Cambion asked Alli. “They are going to follow us in different transports, I imagine, my prince,” she whispered, nearly breathless with excitement. “We thought we had lost you. We were in mourning. The people don’t know what to think when they see you walking around, still breathing. Duke Uriel assured us that you were dead.” The elevator stopped abruptly, the bands that swirled around it coming to a complete stop and then lowering to the floor. The walls of the silent hall that Cambion stepped into were draped in heavy black cloth. Morag clutched his arm, guiding him past rows of golden doors that stood on either side of the hall and branched and curved off into endless other halls. It was massive, labyrinthine, and above him, beyond the curved windows on a domed ceiling made completely of gold, was nothing but an endless blackness. “And what’s that?” Cambion asked, pointing up at the windows. “That is the void, the No Thing that exists between our world and the human one. It is like outer space to the human world. We need ships to cross it when we wish to manifest in the human world as more than just a dream. This way,” Morag said. She led him into the echoing emptiness of the hall. She tugged him a short distance until they were standing before a massive golden door with a snarling dragon etched upon it. Morag ran her hand over the dragon’s mouth and uttered more of her strange words. The door slid open. Two men were thrashing around within the chamber. Both were hooded. One man
was armed with a dagger. The dagger descended and the other man caught the hand that held it. Their arms shook with the strength and viciousness of their life and death struggle. The hood fell from the potential knife victim’s head. “King Nauru!” Alli screamed, and that was all Cambion had to hear. He launched himself into the battle. The hooded man looked at Cambion, and he watched glittering green eyes widen in absolute disbelief. “Kaliban?” the man hissed in disbelief laced with something very much like hatred. “How—?” “My name is Cambion,” Cambion said, throwing the full weight of his body into that attacker, shifting him from the king. They tumbled to the floor, the knife blade dancing dangerously against the flesh of Cambion’s stomach. He felt the initial jerking cut, felt when he began to bleed. He grasped the dagger, driving back the hand that held it. He felt very little pain from the wound. His mind was completely focused on closing the fingers of his free hand around the throat of the man beneath him and choking the life from him. He watched green eyes bulge, could feel veins and muscles sliding underneath the pressure of his grasp. He felt hands on him, pulling him backwards roughly, and still he was loath to give up his grip on the white throat. “I’ve never even met Kaliban,” he said and watched the face of the man beneath him twist with vehement hatred. “You’re the other mutt then,” he gasped. “The one that … managed to k-kill th-three of my finest assassins!” Cambion felt himself jerked backwards, his grip on the man’s throat slipping. His vision swam for a moment as a wave of white-hot pain shot through him from the region of his stomach. He looked down at himself and into a sea of blood. The cut was ragged and short, just above his navel. “Cambion didn’t slay your assassins, Uriel,” a voice said, cutting across the room. “My emissaries slew them! They were traitors to the realm and trying to murder my son. Did you honestly believe that I would not know where my own son was?” “Exotica,” Cambion breathed. Pain laced his side, flowing outwards steadily, tilting the room. He stumbled a little and was enveloped in the arms of his father. He looked up into steel gray eyes and saw himself reflected in that unnatural metal gaze. “Exotica,” he repeated. “Morag,” the king said and whirled on the Duke, leaving Cambion to stand on his own, which he somehow managed. Morag slid in next to him through the throng of guards and poked at the wound. She dug in her bag quickly and produced a jar of black jelly that she packed into the open hole. Cambion felt a merciful and immediate relief from pain. The captive man struggled with three of the king’s guards in vain. They had stripped him of robe and hood, and he snarled into the light. Bat-like wings thrashed at his back. “Where is Kaliban, traitor?” King Nauru asked. “And the Lady of the House of Copper?” The Duke grinned, his eyes narrowed. “Dying,” he said with a cruel chuckle. He whispered a single word then, in the demons’ tongue. Cambion moved so fast his own speed surprised him. Spurred by rage, the massive wings exploded from his back in a velvet whisper. He was in the air, grasping the Duke by the throat, lifting him into the air. He stared into eyes that stared back at him with bitter hatred and some fear.
“Cambion, stop!” he heard King Nauru call—and thought that it was very nice that his father knew his name. He turned in the air, the screaming, thrashing Duke in his arms and flew out the chamber door. He moved forward and up, seeking the lofty heights of the domed ceilings of Oea, seeking to touch the blackness beyond them. Below him, the denizens of Upper Oea scurried like frantic ants. Cambion climbed higher still in the open air, and then he turned the Duke in his arms until the thrashing assassin was in front of him. He thrust the body forward as he came to one glass pane separating Oea from the darkness beyond. He smashed the Duke into the glass hard, heard it crack beneath the power of the blow. “Dying, huh?” Cambion snarled, rage and fear for Exotica clouding his thoughts and turning them a dark, murderous red. “She is everything. She gave me my dreams. You can’t know what that means to me.” The smile on his face was death’s grin; it stretched so unnaturally across his skin he could feel every line of it. He dropped low and shot forward, slamming the Duke’s body into the heavy glass again. The sound of breaking bones and glass cracking filled his ears. One of the Duke’s wings hung limply at his side while the other flapped weakly. “Stop, fool,” the Duke screamed. “There is no life out there. There is only No Thing! You’ll die! You’ll die with me!” “So?” Cambion said. A pain far beyond anything physical drove him forward, a pain with golden eyes and raven black hair. He could hear the frantic flapping of wings and looked down to see a small troop of guards in flight coming straight for him. He dropped down again, almost into their frantic grasping arms and then shot toward the window with a terrible singularity of vengeance. “Wait!” the Duke screamed, his eyes wide and rolling in his head. “You can still save her!” Cambion stopped just short of shoving the Duke through the glass. Breathing hard, hope growing in his chest, he waited. **** “How?” Jeris’s voice asked in soft wonderment. “By what magic is Prince Kaliban in two places at once?” Exotica’s heart fluttered. Cambion. But how had he managed to get free? she wondered. “What is happening?” she asked desperately. “My Lord Uriel tried to slay the king. K-Kaliban stopped him. But how is that possible, Lady?” She heard a sharp intake of breath from him; there was horror in the sound. “No,” he whispered. The rejoicing in Exotica’s heart grew cold. “Jeris?” She heard the lock click ominously on the love slave’s restraints. He stood, his pale body fairly glowing in the shadow light of the chamber. Then her own restraints gave and she slid to the floor. Kaliban hit the ground snarling only a moment after her. “He’s killed us all,” Jeris moaned, tearing from the chamber. Exotica reached for Kaliban. He grasped her hand and stood. They followed the love slave. Uriel had many captives. They were chained to the walls in the next chamber, males and females in various states of hideous torture. His cruelty, apparently, knew no bounds. The stink of blood filled the chamber, and Exotica had to fight the urge to gag. The ceiling unleashed floodwaters upon them, and Exotica clutched Kaliban as they
fought their way through the hard, blinding spray. The only thing that was louder than the falling waters was the screaming of Uriel’s chained captives. The water rose fast, first at Exotica’s ankles, and then she felt its aching chill around her knees. They came to the door of the nightmare chamber, and Jeris collapsed against it. The door was made of heavy stone, embedded in a thick wall of more intractable stone. “Is there no other way out?” Kaliban asked, setting Exotica aside and pressing his body against the door, feeling for the sensor that would open it. A light flickered in the center of the door, and for a moment, a glimmer of hope lit in Exotica’s breast, so strong she almost collapsed with it. Uriel’s face flickered across the screen, the falling water disrupting the image and making it monstrous and ugly. Jeris shook his head. “There is no other way,” he said mournfully. He looked up at the flickering image of the Duke. “It is time for a cleansing of all that is filthy and useless within Oea,” the Duke’s distorted voice said. “This is my fifth cleansing of my dungeon. I’ve been doing this for a while and, I must say, it gets more fun every time.” The picture crackled and warped as Kaliban put his fist through it. The voice did not stop. “For my special prisoners. You know who you are because you are free, free to rage against the death that looms so near, free to try and find an escape when I assure you that there is none. Your predecessors put on great shows of ingenuity and desperation. Do not shame them; put on a magnificent display.” The picture dissolved as the Duke’s cruel, sadistic laughter filled the chamber. The water was up to Exotica’s breasts, rapidly cresting waves rising underneath her chin. She felt Kaliban’s cold arms wrap around her. She leaned her head against his chest, seeking the warmth that ever radiated from the dragon design. There had been a time when she would have given anything for him to show her this kind of emotion. It was a small show indeed, and the dire straits of their situation had pushed it upon them. But she wouldn’t have cared. His lips sought hers, and she let him kiss her, feeling the heat of his lips through the chill of the icy water that threatened to drown them. Her body clung to his, seeking the warmth that the cold water was washing out of hers. Her breasts ached, her pussy throbbed … but the kiss wasn’t right. It did not shake her, rock her, like the Cambion’s kisses. She was left wanting, craving… He pulled away from her, a strange frown on his face, and a question on his lips. The door to the chamber slid open abruptly, and the light from the hallway glared into the darkness of the Duke’s torture chamber. The water rushed outward, causing Exotica to stumble more fully into Kaliban’s arms as he tried to hold her up. They went sliding into the hallway, and as water rushed over her head, Exotica caught a glimpse of Cambion standing in the doorway, clenching it tight with one fist as the water rushed over him. He held the Duke by the throat in the other hand. Exotica landed in a tangle with Kaliban at the feet of King Nauru as a bevy of armed guards fought the rushing waters in an effort to free the slaves chained to Uriel’s dark cavern walls. Kaliban stood up and helped Exotica to her feet. His hand lingered on her possessively. She watched as the two brothers eyed each other. Her gaze traveled over Cambion’s flesh, noting the lack of a collar around his throat. Then she saw the terrible wound above his navel. “Cambion,” she whispered. She struggled against the vice-like grip with which
Kaliban held her. “Let her go,” King Nauru said authoritatively. Underneath that tone of power there was a terrible sadness in the king’s voice. “Prince Kaliban of Oea, you are hereby banished from the kingdom for trying to kill your brother, Prince Cambion of Oea. Your sentence to take effect immediately.” Kaliban grew very tense at his father’s words as freed slaves began pouring out of the Duke’s torture chamber. Exotica looked at him. His gaze had left his brother and fallen to the cringing form of the trembling, broken Duke. His eyes narrowed. “I do believe I promised you something, Uriel, back in that chamber.” Uriel began shaking his head. His eyes bulged. “No!” he said. Kaliban surged forward, and Cambion came to meet him halfway. They stood face to face before the door of Uriel’s dungeon. “You have something I want. I have something you want, brother,” Kaliban said. Cambion’s smile was tentative. “It seems that way, yes,” he said. Kaliban let Exotica go. She felt his fingers in the length of her hair as she rushed into the warmth of Cambion’s arms. She heard the Duke’s high screaming and looked to see Kaliban wrapping his fingers in the man’s hair, a savage grin on his face as he dragged the thrashing form back into the dungeon they had almost died in. “Someone bring me some salt!” Kaliban called over his shoulder. “This bastard’s heart will probably be bitter without it!” And then, Cambion’s hands were on Exotica’s face, tilting her chin up. His lips met hers, and the fever of the kiss spread through her body like wildfire, the world around her dissolving but for him.
Epilogue The newly crowned King of Oea slipped away from his Coronation Ball with his lowborn Lady Queen. Exotica’s back was to him as they watched a sizeable Vid-screen play Kaliban’s dreams in techno-color. His dreams were black. Suddenly, from within the dream came a violent, persistent knocking. Kaliban growled and sat up as the scene shifted from a dream to his waking reality. He cursed low under his breath in the demon’s tongue and went to answer the door. Cambion watched his brother pull the chain back on the door of what had been his apartment in Malibu, California. On the other side, Michelle stood, her pretty face puffy from crying. She threw herself into the arms of a bewildered Kaliban, raining kisses on his face and across his naked chest—the Royal design of Oea gone as part of his banishment. “Cambion, oh, Cambion,” she breathed. “I thought you were gone. I thought those horrible men from the party had hurt you. Don’t you know how to answer your fucking phone? I’ve been here three times hoping to catch you. Hoping against hope you were all right, you bastard. Where were you?” “I’ve been … adjusting,” Kaliban said darkly, holding her away from him and studying her writhing form with some appreciation in the hall light. She slapped him hard. The sound rang like a clap of thunder. Kaliban’s eyes narrowed. “Do you know how much I love you?” she said, dissolving in tears. “Cambion, I thought I was going to die…” “You just might,” Kaliban said, turning her around so he could study her rounded backside. “Then again…” “What the hell are you doing?” she breathed. “What’s wrong with you?” He pulled her to him and kicked the door shut with one foot. He ripped the thin dress she was wearing, exposing the twin globes of her pale and perfect breasts. Her nipples were hard as stones. Confusion and wild anticipation warred in her chocolate-colored eyes. “Banishment might not be so bad after all,” Kaliban finished with a wicked grin. Exotica turned off the Vid-screen. “He’ll be fine,” she said with a soft giggle, “It’s her I feel sorry for. And you.” Cambion frowned. Those last words sounded rather ominous. “What did I do?” She turned to him. He saw the whip in her hand … and the cursed collar, its diamonds glittering in the low light of the room. “You took your collar off without my permission, Cambion. Yes, I have been caught up in the whirlwind of marriage and the luxuries of royalty, but did you really think that I would forget such blatant disobedience?” She cracked the whip, and the sound sent a shudder through him. His traitorous cock hardened. He watched her gaze lower to that part of him, and a predatory grin formed on her soft, full mouth. “I saved your life, wretched woman,” he said in his own defense.
She crossed the room to him, pressed herself against his chest. He could feel every part of her though the thin red gown she was wearing. She stood on tiptoes, her breath hot against his ear. “And I promise to give that some consideration,” she whispered. The End About the Author: Visit Raquel at http://raquel-taylor.blogspot.com/
Meet LSB Authors At The House Of Sin Lsbooks.NET We invite you to visit Liquid Silver Books LSbooks.com for other exciting erotic romances. 2007: Terran Realm Urban fantasy world: TerranRealm.com Featured Series: The Zodiac Series: 12 books, 24 stories and authors Two hot stories for each sign, 12 signs The Coven of the Wolf by Rae Morgan Benevolent lusty witches keep evil forces at bay Fallen: by Tiffany Aaron Fallen angels in hot flight to redeem their wings The Max Series by JB Skully Meet Max, her not-absent dead husband, sexy detective Witt, his mother… And many, many more!
