Page 17 of Tamed

“Oh, fuck,” Verbet muttered as he rushed forward.

The guards arrived first.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him.” Verbet glanced toward the door, knowing there was no way he’d be allowed to leave. Blood pooled on the first stair and started to cascade onto the next. “Call a medical team! What are you waiting for?”

With no apparent urgency, Raajel checked for a pulse. The other guard reached for the comm band on his inner arm, but Raajel stopped him. Turning to Verbet, he informed, “It’s too late, sir. I’m sorry.”

Verbet shook his head, disbelief making his voice shrill. “Check again. I did not just kill my brother. I didn’t.”

“You ended the reign of a tyrant,” Raajel said firmly as he stood and faced Verbet. “This was self-defense. We both saw it. Jevara went after you first. You had no choice but to defend yourself. It was a lucky punch, an accident. That is the truth.”

Verbet looked around but saw no security drones and there had never been surveillance cameras in the throne room. Jevara wanted no permanent record of the deals that were struck here. “This is not what I wanted. I came here hoping to reconcile.”

“I know, sir. And that is why you will make a good emperor. I always thought you were a better choice than your brother.”

Jevara needed to be replaced, but Verbet had yet to decide if he wanted to be the successor. Well, the decision couldn’t wait any longer. It was time to step up or step aside. He was the last living Torretian with royal blood. He had received the best education and extensive training. Why the fuck shouldn’t he be emperor? As Raajel said, he’d always been a much better choice than Jevara. But did he want the responsibility that went along with all the privileges?

“What would you like us to do, sir?”

He looked around the presence chamber, determination welling within him. Ruling was his birthright. Mercelon Palace was his home. It always had been and always would be.

“My reign cannot begin until it is officially determined that Jevara’s has ended.” He squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. “Comm a medical team and the court historian. They will need to bear witness to the transition of power.”

“May I make a suggestion, sir?” Raajel asked as the other guard covered Jevara’s body with some sort of cloth.

“Of course.”

“Keep this quiet until you choose your advisors and have rid yourself of anyone you cannot trust. This sort of transition must be fast and seamless, or others will take advantage.”

He meant the rebels and the Citadel, and he was absolutely right. Until Verbet’s administration was rock solid and he was surrounded by loyal troops, he could not announce that Jevara was dead. His enemies would see it as a weakness and attack. “I agree.” His mind whirred with all the things that needed to be done if he were going to make this work. “Take the body to a small ship with a stasis chamber.” That would preserve Jevara well enough so they could make it look as if he had just died when they were ready to announce this to the public. “Then stash the ship on one of our lesser developed moons.”

Raajel nodded. “That should work. I’ll send in a team to clean up the blood. The one I’m thinking of is very discreet. I’ve used them for years.”

“As far as everyone else is concerned, Jevara has gone to visit our partners on Elitor,” Verbet mused. “He has been meaning to do so for years but has not found the time. And now that our personal conflict has been resolved, I will be left in charge.”

“Sounds like a plan, sir.” Raajel nodded enthusiastically. “I will go make the arrangements.”

Three days later

Arcon paused outside Zevon’s apartment to collect his thoughts. He’d never been summoned to the president’s private quarters before and couldn’t imagine what Zevon wanted now. The self-defense classes were going well. The first four security teams had been assembled, and all of the conduits seemed to be excited about beginning their new lives. Now if he could just banish a certain redhead’s image from his mind, life would make sense again.

Kendra was haunting him, filling his mind with erotic fantasies and his nights with graphic dreams. He’d jerked off while thinking about her so many times in the last three days that he’d literally lost count. The simulators didn’t help. The images and sensations they created barely managed to get his cock hard. Then all he had to do was think about Kendra and his entire body came alive.

He hadn’t seen her since their wrestling match. Perhaps that was the problem. If he saw her, spoke with her, renewed their friendship, maybe he’d be able to rid his mind of her image. He shook away the possibility. It was more likely that he’d shove her against the nearest wall and fuck her senseless.

He was clearly in the grip of mating fever and he had no idea what to do about it. She had chosen her destination. In a matter of days she would be on Houkdi, well out of his reach.

Welcoming whatever distraction Zevon intended to provide, Arcon positioned himself in front of the door and waited for the computer to announce his arrival. The door opened a few moments later and Arcon hesitantly stepped inside.

The room was much larger than his but just as sparsely decorated. The realization made him smile. Apparently, neither of them spent a lot of time in their apartments.

“Welcome.” Zevon walked over to him, holding out a glass of finolt.

Arcon took the glass but didn’t partake. He could throw back a shot with the best of them, but he wanted to keep his head clear until he found out what this was about. Zevon was dressed in black pants and a bulky sweater. Arcon had never seen him out of uniform before. He wasn’t sure how to take any of this.

“You’re not in trouble,” Zevon assured. “Let’s just sit and have a drink.”

Arcon wanted to bluntly ask what the hell Zevon wanted but decided not to insult the president of the Citadel. Instead, he walked over to the nearest chair and sat down. He even took a minuscule sip of finolt.

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