“Hello? Who is this?” she demanded, her brows drawing low in disapproval. “Who disturbs my retirement? And how dare you use the ‘Empress in grave danger’ code?”
“Because she is,” I said grimly. “Dr. Churika, it’s Captain Verrai. I have the True Incarnation with me—Sundalla the 1000th. But she is gravely ill. I need your help.”
“You have? She is? Show her to me and tell me what’s the matter!” the old female demanded imperiously.
I turned Charlotte’s head gently and brushed aside some strands of long blonde hair to show her delicate features.
Churika leaned in close to her viewscreen and then sucked in a gasp.
“It’s her—it’s truly her!” I heard her mutter and she made a sign in the air, her wrinkled forefinger tracing a circle and pointing to the Heavens—the holy signal of the Goddess-Empress.
“I know,” I said. “She has the rainbow aura just like Sundalla the 999th had. But she is deathly ill. I fear…” I forced myself to make my voice cold and dispassionate. “I fear she’s going to die.”
“Nonsense,” Dr. Churika snapped, practical as ever. “Tell me her symptoms and how long she’s been sick.”
“I think she has the Calet Sanguis—the Burning Blood,” I said. “But I’ve never heard of a case this extreme before.”
“What?” The old female frowned. “How would she get the Burning Blood if you’ve just found her? There hasn’t even been time for her to give her blood to any of the candidates for Consort yet. In fact, if you just found her, the Council hasn’t even picked any candidates yet!”
“She didn’t give her blood to a Consort candidate,” I said, gritting my teeth against the shame of my admission. “She gave it to me.”
“What?” Dr. Churika looked scandalized, as though I had admitted to improper sexual contact with the Empress instead of just having some of her blood. “Why would she do that? And why would you take it? What happened?”
I told her about my fight with the first assassin-droid, my blood-loss and the subsequent blood transfusion.
“Goddess of Mercy!” the old healer exclaimed when I finished my explanation. “So she didn’t just give you a few drops to drink—she transfused you with her own blood?”
I nodded. “I tried to stop her but by the time I realized what was happening, most of the damage was already done. I thought my blood wasn’t exulted enough to call to hers at first because she had no symptoms. Then tonight, she started saying she was hot—burning up. Yet her temperature is well below normal and she’s cold to the touch.”
“Don’t fool yourself, Verrai,” Churika snapped. “Your blood is most certainly not exulted enough to call to hers. She needs a full-blooded Royal as her consort. But if she pumped that much of her own essence into a rock it would call to her. The problem here isn’t the quality—it’s the quantity.”
I didn’t resent her words in the least—I knew them to be true. I was a lesser noble—good enough to be the captain of the Goddess-Empress’s Guard but not Consort material—not even in my wildest dreams.
“What must I do for her?” I asked. “Tell me how to save her.”
She sighed. “How far are you from Denaris?”
“A solar day’s journey—no more,” I said. “The True Incarnation’s home world, Earth, is a closed planet in the same sector as Denaris.”
“Bring her to me as fast as you can,” Churika ordered.
“What must I do in the meantime?” I asked, cradling Charlotte to me anxiously. “She’s so cold and her pulse is too fast. Also, her breathing is shallow and rapid.”
“She’s going into the withdrawal stage of her Royal Cycle. When an Empress gives her blood to the Consort candidates, her body chooses which one it is drawn to and yearns for him. ” The old female frowned. “Unfortunately, right now what her body is yearning for is you, Verrai.”
“Me? But you just finished telling me I’m not Consort material!” I exclaimed.
“And you’re not. But the new Incarnation’s body doesn’t know that. You’ve gotten so much of her blood in you it’s created a false positive. Her body thinks you’re meant to be her Consort, even though there’s no way in the Frozen Hells you could be.”
“What can I do?” I asked. “I cannot bond her to me.”
“No-no!” Her faded eyes flashed. “You most certainly must not do that! It would be a sacrilege and treason of the highest order!”
“I’m aware of how unworthy I am to be with her,” I said evenly. “So tell me how to keep her alive until I get to you without doing anything treasonous.”
She frowned, considering. At last, she sighed.
“You’ll have to warm her.”
“That’s fine,” I said, relieved to have some concrete instructions at last. “I have some chemical warming blankets in my hold.”
“No, no—you misunderstand.” She scowled. “You’ll have to warm her with your body. When an Empress Incarnate is in the withdrawal stage of her Royal Cycle, only the body heat of the one she’s being drawn to will bring up her core temperature and ease the sickness she feels.”
“But I’m holding her now,” I pointed out, indicating the way Charlotte was curled in my lap, my arms securely around her. “And it’s not helping.”
Churika’s scowl deepened. “She needs skin-to-skin contact, Verrai. Nothing else will do. Take off your uniform and those odd garments she’s wearing—what are those anyway?”
“The uniform of the House of Healing she was working in,” I explained. “As I told you before, she’s been trained as a Healer, Dr. Churika—like yourself.”
“Ah, that’s right. An Empress Healer—imagine that!” For a moment she looked pleased—then she went back to scowling. “As I said—she’ll need your bare skin against her own.” She raised one crooked finger and shook it at me. “Only mind you don’t do anything you shouldn’t! Skin contact only—nothing more!”
“I’ve been chaste these past ten years in Sundalla the 999th’s service,” Churika,” I said dryly. “I think I can manage a few more hours until we get to you.”
“See that you do. And hurry—we don’t need the Withdrawal stage to turn into the Needing stage. Though the Goddess of Mercy alone knows what may happen since she pumped so much of her blood into you.”
“I’ll set my hyperdrive to maximum,” I promised.
“Do that. Hopefully I can do something for her. Then, when you get her to Femme One, she can have a proper Culling Ceremony and choose a Royal Consort.”
The thought of Charlotte giving her blood to other males—of her body yearning for one of them until she felt the Need and had to go to him—made me feel tight all over for some reason. But I pushed the emotion away.
“We will be with you soon. I must go set a course and do what I can for my Lady,” I told Churika.
The old healer nodded curtly and signed off. I did the same and went to plot our course, still holding Charlotte in my arms. I would heal her, I promised myself. Heal her of this affliction she had because of me—this false positive as Churika had called it. But I would be very careful when I did—I did not wish to push the boundaries between my new mistress and myself too far.
Chapter Twelve
Charlotte
I woke up in the dark, feeling horribly hot and tight all over my body. I had been dreaming of the snake again—the one made of flames that wrapped itself around my body and squeezed and squeezed until I couldn’t get any air into my lungs. I didn’t know if I was going to burn to death or asphyxiate or both.
All I knew was that I was burning up and I couldn’t breathe.
“Help!” I tried to say, but my voice came out in a faint, panicked whisper. I simply couldn’t get enough air to make much noise.
Still, someone heard me.
“It’s all right,” a deep voice said. “You’re going to be all right, my Lady.”
Whoever had spoken was taking off my clothes. I sighed in relief as the hot, itchy lab coat and scrubs came off,
leaving me in just my bra and panties. The cool sheets beneath me felt so good on my fevered skin.
A big hand was touching my face—cupping my cheek. I sighed and leaned into the touch. It was warm, which shouldn’t have appealed to me since I felt so hot myself. But somehow the sensation of it stroking my face felt amazing—like it was somehow exactly what I needed.
Only I needed more.
“Your skin is like ice, my Lady.” The deep voice sounded worried this time.
I tried to say that I was burning up, not freezing to death, but I still couldn’t make any words above a whisper.
“Hush,” he murmured. “It’s all right—I’m going to make everything better.”
And then those big, warm hands began to touch me all over, stroking along my fevered skin, bring a soothing peace wherever they went.
I moaned breathlessly and arched my back up as he stroked over my shoulders and neck and upper chest—careful to avoid my breasts, though why, I didn’t know.
The hands continued their journey, sliding down my torso and belly—carefully avoiding the panty region—and then caressing long and slow over my thighs and calves.
I can’t describe how good it felt—how much I needed his touch— how much I yearned for it. And yet, the relief it brought was short-lived. As much as he stroked and caressed me, my body cried out for more. His hands stilled the fiery snake as it wound around my limbs and body, but only during the time he was touching me. The moment his long, gentle fingers moved on, it came back ten—no a hundred times worse than before.
My relief turned to distress and I began to moan and cry out, thrashing in the bed I was lying on. At least, I assumed it was a bed—I couldn’t see anything in the dark but two faint colored dots dancing far above me.
“Please,” I said, my voice a shaking whisper. “Please, it hurts! I…I’m on fire!”
The hands stopped and withdrew.
“I was afraid of this,” the deep voice said. The speaker sounded as though he might be frowning.
“Afraid of what?” I demanded. “Please, can’t you make it stop? I’m burning!”
“And yet your skin is like ice and your body temperature keeps dropping.” He shifted in the dark beside me and the two colored spots high above me narrowed. “Very well, my Lady, it seems that propriety must wait upon survival.”
“What?” I whispered, thinking—He talks like someone from a Renaissance Festival!
The minute the thought entered my brain, a rush of memories came with it. I suddenly realized who the owner of the deep voice and warm hands must be.
“Kristoff?” I managed to whisper.
“Be still, my Lady,” he warned. “You’re ill because of all the blood you gave me—it caused your body to think I’m your Consort.”
“What? What Consort—I don’t understand,” I said.
He sighed. “And I don’t have much time to explain. I’ll just say this—your body thinks it wants mine. You feel like you’re burning up when actually, your core temperature is getting dangerously low. The only way for me to warm you up is to hold you skin-to-skin so that my heat can penetrate you.”
“Yes, all right,” I said, shamelessly eager. I knew I should have been reluctant—after all, I barely knew him. But at that point I didn’t care—anything to make the burning stop! Anything to drive away the snake that was trying to strangle me!
“All right, my Lady. I’m taking off my armor and uniform but leaving on my underclothes,” he said.
There was a rustling and quiet clanking in the dark—probably his heavy breastplate being laid on the floor—and then he was sliding into bed with me, big and solid and amazingly warm.
“Oh!” I gasped as he put his arms around me. I burrowed into his embrace, trying to get my cheek against his hard, muscular chest. He felt so good against me but there was still too much cloth in the way. My bra and panties were barriers—impediments to the relief I desperately craved.
They had to go.
I reached behind me, tugging and yanking at my too-tight bra strap. Damn it, I had to get the freaking thing off me.
Kristoff seemed to understand what I was doing because he asked in a low voice, “My Lady, are you certain you wish to be bare-breasted with me?”
“Don’t ask stupid questions,” I panted angrily. “Just help me—please.”
He complied silently, reaching behind me to help unsnap the stubborn elastic. I shucked it off with a sigh of relief and threw it over the side of the bed. Then I started yanking on my panties.
These were easier to get off, but as before, Kristoff tried to stop me.
“My Lady…” His big hands were on mine, keeping me from making progress. “Do you really think this is wise?”
“Kristoff,” I gasped, "this isn’t sexual, I swear it’s not! I’m just in pain and I need…I don’t know what I need. Just more.”
“As you wish.” He hooked his fingers in the thin side straps of my panties then and pulled them down himself. I lifted my hips and helped him do it, eager to get them off—eager to get rid of anything standing between me and relief.
At last I was bare-ass-naked, as Zoe would have said. I reached for Kristoff, anticipating relief but there was still a barrier in the way. The undershirt and under-kilt he wore beneath his armor were keeping me from getting close enough.
I yanked at them, irrationally angry to have them in the way. They were keeping me from getting relief, damn it!
“Off!” I ordered imperiously, tugging at the soft, stretchy material. “Get it off now.”
Kristoff took off his undershirt but absolutely refused to take off the under-kilt.
“No, my Lady,” he said firmly, pushing my hands away. “There must be something between us for propriety’s sake.”
“Fuck propriety!” I snapped. I was surprised to hear such language come out of my own mouth—I’m not usually much of a curser. But the feeling that I needed him—all of him—pressed against all of me just would not leave. I knew I ought to be embarrassed or ashamed to demand such a thing of a man I had only met a few days ago but I couldn’t help it—my body wouldn’t let me help it.
I needed him.
“My lady…” he began but then seemed to decide that there was no use arguing with me. “All right,” he said, shucking down the rest of his undergarments so that he was completely bare with me. “I only hope you won’t regret it later.”
“Come here!” I said, ignoring the warning in his deep voice. “Please, Kristoff, I need you!”
He came, pulling me to him so that our bodies were flush against each other, chest to chest. Well, he was so tall, it was more like my face to his chest but you get the idea—we were completely naked and pressed together as tightly as we could be.
So tightly I could feel his long, heavy shaft branding my inner thighs.
“Oh!” I whispered when I felt it throb against me.
Kristoff shifted restlessly.
“Forgive me,” he muttered hoarsely. “It’s inexcusable but I cannot seem to help myself, especially when you’re so close, my Lady. I have been chaste for ten years but though I can control my actions, I cannot control the involuntary responses of my body.”
“It’s all right,” I assured him and somehow, it was. Though it should have been a horribly embarrassing situation, I was finally beginning to feel some relief from the burning and breathlessness.
I’m a practical person—I always have been. Was it weird to be bare-ass-naked with a man I barely knew? Yes it was. But was it better than having the feeling that I was on fire and I couldn’t breathe? Also yes—a thousand times yes. And besides, touching Kristoff wasn’t like touching any other man I’d ever been with.
Not that I go around touching a lot of men. To be honest, after the attack by the drunk frat boy in college, I’d found the touch of most men slightly repulsive. Also, they couldn’t do anything for me—my touch-sense told me at once the minute I made first contact. So what was the point?
Kri
stoff could definitely do something for me—my touch-sense had given me that message loud and clear. But as I had told him earlier, the current situation we found ourselves in wasn’t sexual, despite our nudity. Well, not for me, anyway. I just wanted to be able to breathe and to get my body temperature normalized.
“Are you feeling better, Charlotte? I mean, my Lady?” he murmured in my ear.
“You can call me Charlotte,” I assured him. “Any man who rubs his naked body against mine is close enough to be on a first name basis.”
He made a soft rumbling sound and after a moment I realized he was laughing. Which was good—it broke some of the tension between us. It was the first time I had heard his laugh—he was a pretty serious guy, after all. It was a warm, pleasant sound that vibrated through my whole body, making me tingle.
I joined him and soon we were both laughing in the dark like lunatics with his arms wrapped around me and his big, warm body finally giving me the relief I craved so desperately.
At last our laugher tapered off and I found myself just cuddling in his arms. The worst of my desperate pain was over, which meant the situation should have gotten awkward fast.
Somehow it didn’t.
“You saved me,” I said, pressing my cheek to his slightly scratchy chest. “Again.”
He had the most amazing scent—warm and spicy and masculine. It reminded me of cedar and sandalwood and some kind of dark musk that made me want to get even closer and never stop breathing him in. His body was so much bigger than mine I felt completely surrounded by him—cocooned in his arms, utterly safe and protected. It was a sensation I’d never had before—not even as a child.
I never wanted it to end.
“It’s my fault you’re in this situation,” he murmured, his voice a soft rumble in my ear. “If you hadn’t given me so much of your blood… I shouldn’t have let you.”
“How could you have stopped me? You were out cold,” I pointed out. “Also, you needed that transfusion. What kind of a doctor would I be if I stood by and did nothing when you needed help and I could give it?”
“So…you don’t regret it? Despite the pain and discomfort it caused you?” He sounded faintly surprised.