Page 77 of Decadence

You just spoke to him…

A thrill of anticipation made the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Warmth spread between her thighs as she thought of his deep, commanding voice... telling her to pleasure herself for his own personal satisfaction… and torture.

When they finally got together it was going to be completely, utterly insane.

“Fine,” she breathed, barely able to contain herself as her legs trembled beneath her. “Fine. I’ll be patient, and I’ll trust you people to do what you’re clearly so good at doing. In the meantime…” She glanced over her shoulder, looking through the gleaming glass doors of the preservers. Protein based… raw… She thought long and hard about Kordolian preferences as she spied a basket of beautiful big brown eggs and an entire side of beef that was hanging upside-down. “Steak tartare, anybody?”

While her world spun out of control, and faceless assassins and sinister gangsters and distant alien terrors threatened to invade her waking thoughts; while her desire for Ikriss grew and grew, driving her to a quiet kind of insanity, all she could do was feed people, right?

That always made her feel better.

Chapter Nineteen

Why do they want her so badly?

Ikriss had turned the question over and over in his feverish mind, running through a hundred different scenarios. By now, it was Universal knowledge that humans were reproductively compatible with Kordolians, but there were billions of human females on Earth.

It wouldn’t make sense for them to go to all the trouble of sending one of the most deadly Silent Ones to retrieve her.

Maybe the assassin had really been after him. He had his fair share of mortal enemies, after all.

It doesn’t matter now, anyway. She is mine.

They would never lay a hand upon her again.

And he would not stop until those responsible for her suffering were completely destroyed.

Ikriss leaned forward, pressing his elbows into the desk. He dropped his head and massaged his temples. His fingers grazed over the bumps of his severed horn-buds, eliciting a jolt of tingly pleasurable pain. The bases were a lot more sensitive than usual. He touched an area that was particularly raw.

Shit.

His horns were growing back, breaking through the layer of skin that had grown over them.

Another effect of the Mating Fever, probably.

Letting out a deep sigh, he stood abruptly, his vision dimming briefly as the machines in his chest worked to maintain his circulation.

“I-is everything all right, Sir?” Asherin appeared in the doorway, alerted by Ikriss’s sudden movements. Being one of the medically trained staff onboard the ship, Asherin had access to Ikriss’s biodata, which was being monitored through the machines.

At the first sign of a problem, Asherin would administer emergency treatment and call for immediate assistance, rushing Ikriss back to Zharek’s treatment chamber, which was immediately below them.

“Fine, Ashrein,” Ikriss growled as he slowly walked across the room, tilting his head from side to side to work the stiffness out of his neck. After spending an interminable length of time perusing surveillance logs and old intelligence reports, Ikriss could take it no longer. Work was no longer an effective distraction, and every time he thought about Sienna, his arousal spiked, sending him into a fresh world of agony. “I’ve been sitting in this cursed chair for too long. You up for a swim?”

The new pool on Silence’s lower decks was modeled on the original one in the Fleet Station. It had been installed after the mates lobbied the General, citing the fact that they spent so much time onboard the fleet’s primary vessel, which had become the official headquarters for all their Earth-based operations.

Turns out humans seemed to enjoy swimming almost as much as Kordolians.

Asherin offered a small, stiff bow. “I’m sorry, Sir, but Zharek has advised that you should remain in your quarters until the surgery.” A little of the silver drained from the Kordolian’s face. He was skirting very close to giving Ikriss orders, and that was unheard of. The logical part of Ikriss understood that it was for his own wellbeing, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be annoyed by it.

“You don’t want to have to restrain me, do you, Asherin? Because then you would have to notify Tarak.”

“That would be… less than ideal.” Asherin stiffened. With the exception of the First Division and the Five Commanders, there was not a single Kordolian in the entire Darkstar Corporation that didn’t possess at least some degree of fear of Tarak al Akkadian, even though they revered him like a god.

“Indeed. So you will check with your other boss as to whether a brief immersion in cold water will impact on my condition. I suspect he will tell you that it is of no consequence, because I feel far from dead. Otherwise, you can put me back in stasis and sedate me to oblivion before I do something ridiculous.” He gritted his teeth, his fangs sinking into the soft skin of his lower lip. Really, he knew that wasn’t an option right now. Zharek had warned him of the dangers of oversedation; of his ever-increasing tolerance to the powerful drugs that they injected into his body. “I have the Fever, Asherin. You have yet to learn what that is like.” He bared his blood-tipped fangs.

The assistant bowed again. “I understand.” He activated his comm and engaged in a brief discussion with Zharek. Then he turned to Ikriss. “He says it is actually a good idea, and that his opinion merely constitutes advice, and not strict orders. He will meet us there with one of the First Division.”

Ikriss laughed softly. “I’m that much of a liability, am I?”

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