“Why doesn’t Klykka have one of these installed in her palace?” she muttered to the walls. She was already looking forward to her next shower. “This is too cool.”
Five minutes later, Kari strolled out onto one of the penthouse’s many terraces. Still naked, she sipped from a chalice of warm jumya, a beverage that was brewed from the blue leaves of jumyun trees. An array of fruits, breads, and the Galian version of cheese was spread out on the terrace’s only table, ready for her to eat. She smiled. “It’s going to be difficult to go back to the basics after living in the lap of luxury for three moon-months.”
Why oh why did Klykka keep the palace so stark and simplified when she could obviously afford to live like a queen? Bathing chambers that sensed your needs, instantaneous food delivery at the click of a button, high-rise crystal structures with elevator-like machines that transported you in less than a heartbeat from the building’s entrance to a luxurious penthouse 700 stories up…
This was the life. Indeed the only thing missing from it was a sexy, virile male to share it with.
That thought led to another, namely to the man she shouldn’t be thinking about.
Plopping down on a vesha-soft crystal chair, Kari sighed as she set down her chalice of jumya and picked up a piece of fruit. Seventeen Yessat Years and the first male to arouse her was the one she couldn’t have. Talk about bad fucking luck!
She bit into the fruit with the disgruntled force of a vampire who couldn’t locate a good vein. Klykka had told her there would be humanoid males from all across Trek Mi Q’an galaxy in Crystal City. Kari hoped at least one of the various species looked like the warrior from Tryston she’d seen yesterday. She glanced poignantly toward the chalice of warm jumya and frowned.
Seventeen years. If she were a man, her balls would have been bluer than that fucking drink by now.
* * * * *
Nervousness set in as Kari walked into Mettle Tavern. The boisterous atmosphere should have been welcoming, but tonight, her first night on the job, it was unnerving. Wearing the black, sparkly zoka she’d purchased from Nyoki, her long, wine-red curls cascading past her butt, she looked pretty damn good if she did say so herself. Klykka must have been correct about Kari rating a perfect 10 on the exotic scale because every male who saw her walk past stared at her as though she were the sexiest woman alive.
It’s about time, she sniffed, holding her head up high. Every woman deserved to feel like the belle of the ball at least once in her life. Apparently her turn had finally arrived. She conceded she’d probably enjoy her proverbial moment in the sun more if she didn’t feel nervous enough to vomit on the customers.
“Kari Gy’at Li.”
She came to a stop and looked around, unable to find the female voice that had called out her name. A group of Trystonni warriors were staring her down from the table they shared, their arousal obvious. Seated almost at floor level, they still looked taller than her while standing. She swallowed roughly, breaking eye contact.
Similar to a Japanese or Indian restaurant back home, the customers of Mettle Tavern sat on vesha pads that kept them close to the ground. The patrons shared their meals around tables that appeared to automatically adjust to the perfect height for every group. Humanoids and non-humanoids—holy shit did that thing have an ass for a head?!—interacted, but mostly sat or lounged with members of the same species.
“Kari Gy’at Li.”
Kari crooked her neck. The voice was distinctly feminine, yet the only females in the tavern were the ones serving food and drink to the clients. For some enigmatic reason it gave her a thrill to know those women were warriors in training, yet the visiting males believed them to be, in their eyes at least, “lowly” serving wenches.
That’s right, misogynists, she thought on her second haughty sniff of the night, score one for the home team.
“Kari Gy’at Li.”
At last Kari spotted her. The gorgeous Galian female making her way toward Kari had to be Arista, the warrior who owned Mettle Tavern. Klykka had instructed her that Arista would know who she was when she walked through the doors.
“I see The Gy’at Li did not exaggerate your beauty,” Arista purred in Trystonni. Kari knew the table of warriors from Tryston were listening, which embarrassed her a bit. Coming to a halt in front of her, the female warrior ran a hand through her hair. “Fire-berry indeed. Leastways, this explains your name.”
Kari. The Galian word for fire-berry.
“Yes, Mistress,” she returned in Galian, hoping the warriors didn’t speak their tongue. “My hair is unusual for Trek Mi Q’an.” She smiled, her dimples popping out. “Or so I’m always told.”
“And you have a small patch of fire-berry above your mons?”
The warriors made appreciative murmurs, indicating they spoke Galian just fine. Shit. How mortifying.
“I do,” Kari stated, hoping the heat she felt on her face wasn’t showing.
“I am Arista.”
“I know.”
Her smile was slow and sensual. Kari hoped that meant she was being accepted as an apprentice. She knew protocol dictated that she say nothing until spoken to—at least not until Arista decided to take her under her wing.
The seasoned warrior Klykka had praised as the best teacher of the erotic arts in Galis took her time visually inspecting Kari. Her violet gaze raked all over her body, making her aware of her near nakedness. She managed to remain stoic despite the earthly instinct to shrivel into the shadows. She just hoped the teacher accepted her so no shame was brought to the House of Gy’at Li.
After what felt like forever, Arista resumed eye contact. Inclining her head, for the average Galian woman stood several inches taller than her, the tavern’s owner gently cradled Kari’s face and began to kiss her. Kari could sense the Trystonni warriors’ arousal. They obviously thought this was an erotic show, but Kari knew what it meant.
Arista thrust her tongue inside Kari’s mouth, her hands falling to tweak her nipples. Kari moaned and wrapped her arms around the Galian’s neck, kissing her back with everything she had to give, excited and grateful Arista had accepted her as an apprentice.
To outsiders, this was a show of sexuality. To Galians, the meaning was dependent on the situation. Regardless of the condition, the physical joining allowed Galians to link with each other in fatoomi—or fearlessness—a lesser form of thought-lock.
Kari’s mind merged with Arista’s in the void she’d learned long ago to not resist. It permitted them to have conversations nobody could eavesdrop in on.
“I accept you as mine, Kari Gy’at Li.”
“Thank you, Mistress.”
“You will retain the name of your sector, though you belong to the House of de Valor whilst under my dominion.”
“The House of de Valor?” Arista was from the royal line itself! “I am not worthy.”
“Aye, you are. If my finest, strongest warrior sends you to me, you are worthy.”
Kari’s eyes widened. “I did not mean disrespect to Klykka, my adoptive sister. My love and respect for her is—”
“I know, child.” Arista smiled. “’Tis 750 Yessat Years since the day I was birthed. There is little I don’t know.”
Kari nodded, but said nothing.
“When we break fatoomi you will follow me without words into my private chambers. There we shall discuss your next three moon-months.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“I give you leave to speak to me at your will.”
“Thank you, Mistress.”
Arista broke the kiss and the fatoomi came to an end. The Trystonni warriors looked ready to come, assuming they already hadn’t. Either oblivious or unimpressed, Arista paid them no attention. She turned on her heel and strode away. Kari cleared her throat, quickly broke eye contact with the male warriors, and obediently followed behind her.
* * * * *
Arista’s private chambers were also on the 700th floor. She dwelled in the soaring white crystal tower behind the
tavern instead of the purple one in front of it where Kari lived. Just like Klykka’s palace, Arista de Valor’s mansion was technologically advanced and opulent in its splendor. Kari followed closely behind her. When they passed the bedchamber doors, she couldn’t help but notice the twenty to thirty males of Arista’s harem lounging around inside it, penises fully erect, waiting for their Mistress’s attention.
“You fear that a Galian male will never please you,” Arista said without looking back, startling Kari. She continued walking toward what appeared to be the palace’s dining hall. “Leastways, ‘tis naught to worry about, child.”
Kari’s mouth worked up and down, but it took a protracted moment to get her question out. “How did you know?”
Arista didn’t respond until they reached the great hall. She motioned for Kari to be seated at the table.
“There are fewer older than I in Trek Mi Q’an, child. Mayhap only the Chief Priestess of Tryston herself has seen more moon-risings.”
Ari. Klykka had told her a little about the Chief Priestess, but not much. “Isn’t Ari like a thousand Yessat Years old?”
“Mayhap more. Leastways, none can say.” Arista took a seat directly across from Kari at the dining table. “Ari was birthed from the belly of the goddess, yet she is half-mortal.”
Kari thought back on her history lessons. “Her father was a Trystonni warrior chosen by the goddess Aparna.” Her nose crinkled. “Correct?”
“Aye.”
“Her father died?”
“He breached the Rah the moment his seed took root.”
According to the dominant religion of the galaxy, the Rah was like a gate that separated the world of mortals from those who’d passed on into immortality. “He died the moment the goddess became impregnated?”
“Though ‘tis natural to grieve a loved one who has breached the Rah, for a certainty no soul ever truly dies, child. Ari was born on the other side of the Rah, and because she is half-divine she has the power to visit there at will.” Arista pressed a button and beverages instantaneously appeared. “Ari herself told me our loved ones await us in paradise and so it is.”
Apparently religion was the same everywhere. It provided what those in mourning most needed—hope.
“Do not dismiss these lessons as fanciful thoughts, child. Leastways, it matters naught do you believe for what is will always be.”
Kara looked to the table. “But that means I’ll never see my sister again.”
“Nay. It means quite the opposite.”
Her head shot up. She searched Arista’s gaze. “But religion where I come from is different.”
“Klykka tells me your people worship the male one-god.”
“Yes.”
Arista shrugged. “’Twill mayhap be a surprise to them when they breach the Rah, yet for a certainty the goddess will not turn them away.”
For some reason her explanation not only made sense, it also made Kari feel better. She’d resisted religious teachings and texts since her arrival on Galis, afraid to contemplate what believing in them could mean, only to discover her greatest comfort was to be found in that which she’d most feared. Ignorance, she supposed, wasn’t the bliss it’s credited to be.
“It never is, child.”
Kari’s eyes rounded. “You can read my mind?”
“Nay. Leastways not until you are a High Mystik able to enter into hyatzi, the highest and most powerful form of thought-lock.”
“Dorra isn’t a High Mystik, yet I’ve heard Klykka say they’ve entered into hyatzi together.”
“Aye, but ‘tis one-sided, child. Klykka can reach hyatzi without Dorra, but Dorra cannot reach it without her sister or another High Mystik. Leastways, you see the difference.”
“Like the day Klykka found me and pulled me into the silver waters with her?”
“Aye.”
“Why did Dorra never train to become a High Mystik?”
Arista shrugged. “’Tis not within the power of every warrior, child. Were we all of us High Mystiks in the making, there would be none to take orders.”
Kari couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “You got me there.”
Arista smiled, her full lips curving. “In answer to your question, nay, I cannot read your mind.”
“Then…?”
“A child cannot school their emotions, though they always believe themselves capable.”
Kari sighed. “In my world, I’m not a child. I’m a middle-aged woman.”
“Be grateful you are galishi then.”
She grinned. Point taken.
Hesitant to ask the question foremost on her mind, she was relieved when Arista answered it for her. “You find naught appealing of Galian males.”
“No.” Kari sighed a breath of relief, grateful to be able to unburden herself. “They are handsome, of course, but their mannerisms and emotionalism cancel out and overpower their good looks for me.”
Arista’s look was thoughtful as she poured herself a chalice of warm, blue jumya. She was silent for a long moment as she sipped from the cup. When she placed the chalice back on the table, her gaze found Kari’s. “’Tis not often we make war on others, but when ‘tis necessary those we conquer become our chattel under the holy law. Leastways, not all Galian husbands are born here. Some of them are sold into matrimony, yet they are who they are. For a certainty they possess the fierceness and mettle you so crave. Would you care for a drink?”
Kari blinked at the turn in subject.
“I’ve jumya, pici, and matpow to offer. What is your desire, child?”
With this conversation? There wasn’t a contest. “I’ll take the matpow. I have a feeling I’m going to need it.”
Arista’s smile was equal parts devilish and angelic. “Aye. You will.”
The conversation with Arista de Valor lasted for three hours. The High Mystik freely answered every question Kari put to her then sent her home for the remainder of the night. She wanted Kari to process her thoughts and prepare for the next evening when she officially commenced her training.
Kari was grateful for the reprieve because her brain truly did need time to absorb all she’d learned. Waiting tables and performing an erotic show would have been too much after the tête-à-tête she’d engaged in with Arista.
Exiting Mettle Tavern and walking toward the crystal tower she called home, Kari was too distracted to notice much of anything, including the glowing golden gaze that tracked her every move. The prey wasn’t aware of the predator’s stare, but the hunter knew he’d successfully located the hunted.
Chapter Eight
Kari stared at herself in the holo-mirror as she tried to calm her nerves. Arista had instructed her to enter Mettle Tavern through the back doors guarded by female warriors, rather than through the front ones guarded by no one. She was grateful for that option because she was able to enter her private dressing room without being bothered by customers.
Dressing room. She mentally harrumphed at the misnomer. A more appropriate term would be undressing room because she’d be working totally in the nude. Worse, nude and oiled down.
When she’d arrived in Crystal City it was under the impression that all the women who worked in Mettle Tavern were warriors-in-training. That turned out not to be the case. “I’ve changed the way I do things since Klykka trained under me,” Arista had told her. “Leastways, ‘twas two hundred years ago, that. You need serve trenchers of food only whilst one of the servers is absent or the tavern has more patrons than anticipated. At those times, we all pitch in.”
In essence most of the serving wenches were in fact serving wenches. They were warriors, yes, but they would never be High Mystiks. It was the performers who were apprenticing under The de Valor. Arista had decided a long time ago that lesser warriors who heralded from sectors that specialized in serving were needed to wait tables full-time so the warriors-in-training could focus on the mind-and-body control techniques employed in the erotic arts. The techniques, so crucial, were the same as t
hose used in battle, though to different ends.
Almost time for my first performance…
She was thinking too much, which increased her anxiety exponentially. Her heart was racing and her breathing was too rapid. She needed to calm down.
A holo-image zapped into the mirror. It was Klykka.
“I don’t think I can do this,” Kari said on a gasp. “I’m literally shaking!”
Klykka’s expression was kind, but firm. “Aye you can. Leastways, I would not have sent you otherwise.”
“Remember all the sexual hang-ups I had when I first came to Galis?”
“Aye.”
“They’re back,” Kari panted. “I think for good this time.”
Klykka’s laugh was somewhat comforting. It also made her realize what a chicken shit she was being. “’Tis nerves, this, and naught more.”
But still…
“Klykka—”
“You can and you will finish your training, Kari Gy’at Li. ‘Tis three bedamned moon-months you have to master your powers, yet for a certainty ‘tis doubtful you’ll need more than a sennight.” She shrugged. “Your time in Crystal City ‘tis no more than a formality.”
Kari bit her lip.
“’Tis a vow betwixt sisters, Kari,” The Gy’at Li said softly. “You are ready and you can do this.”
Kari blew out a breath. She obediently inclined her head. “I’m sorry. I guess I am a little nervous.”
“And so you should be. ‘Tis the first time you will attempt to command an entire chamber filled with males not of our species. I would worry did you not feel fear.”
As always, the High Mystik knew exactly what to say to calm her down. And yet…
“What if I suck? What if I can’t command the entire tavern tonight? What if Arista sends me away?”
“I’ve yet to meet any warrior-in-training who commanded the entire chamber on her first attempt.” Klykka waved that away. “Leastways, relax and enjoy yourself. The more at ease you are with your sexuality, the more provocative you will be.”
A glowing, pulsating light blinked twice—Kari’s cue that she was due to perform in five Nuba-minutes. Her heart was beating so fast she felt faint.