While the servants bustled around, changing sheets and offering her clothes, the king beckoned and Damon was instantly at his side. He started to kneel, but the king waved weakly and Damon took his hand instead. “Ho, my son, when you said you left to go a-hunting, I did not think you should enjoy so much luck!”
“Nor I, my good father.”
“And at exactly the right time, too.”
“Yes, Father.”
“Right time for what?” Lois asked, but then she was hustled behind a changing divider, and being divested of her clothes. She slapped the servant’s hands away. “I can undress myself, thanks. What’s your name?”
“Zeka, my lady.”
Zeka—poor kid, what a moniker!—was a petite woman with curly blond hair and the greenest eyes Lois had ever seen. They were the color of a newly mown lawn, and as big as quarters. She was dressed simply in a white robe—in fact, all the servants were dressed in white, draped robes; they looked like escapees from the set of Gladiator.
“Well, Zeka, whatcha got there?”
Teeny Zeka was hefting a brimming stone jug—the thing had to weigh thirty pounds!—with one arm, and pouring bluish-purple water into a large basin. A delightful perfumed scent rose from the splashing water; a cross between roses and water lilies. Suddenly Lois wanted a bath. Very badly.
“If you would be so good as to hand me your soiled clothes, I will see them washed. In the meantime, if you approve, you may wear this.” She held up a plain white robe.
“Sure, looks great. Thanks a lot.” Lois quickly stripped down to nothing, feeling a little awkward. She would have preferred to keep her panties, but all her clothing stank. Working quickly, she sponged herself clean with the water and rough towel Zeka provided. She turned to slip into the robe when Zeka gasped.
“You—you have many, many battle marks!”
“Uh, yeah. Also known as hideous scar tissue. Thanks for noticing—and yelling about it.” Lois knew her body wasn’t exactly a candidate for a Playboy pullout. “Jeez, calm down, willya?”
But Zeka was already darting out of the small changing space. She heard urgent whispers and grabbed for the robe, about two seconds too late. Suddenly the divider was wrenched aside, and Damon and his brothers were standing there.
“Jesus Christ!”
“By the Great Lion,” one of the brothers whispered. “What a woman!”
The other brother reached out and touched the puckered bullet scar above her right breast. She smacked his hand away with her fist and clutched the robe to her chest. “Hands off, unless you want to spit out your teeth,” she snapped. The prince’s eyebrows arched as she continued. “You guys might be comfortable walking around without any clothes on, but I’m an old-fashioned girl.”
“Things are different here,” Damon said mildly, his gaze riveted to the rope burn on her shoulder.
“Thanks for the news flash. Now buzz off so I can get dressed!”
“What is it?” the king called weakly. “What is the matter?”
“Nothing, Father,” Damon said. “Our visitor is simply more beautiful than any of us had imagined.”
“Lord, what has that boy been smoking?” Lois muttered. One of the brothers edged forward, staring at the knife scar near her belly button, but she kicked out at him, effectively herding him back. The other brother laughed. “Get lost. Go find some other woman to ogle.”
“Oooh-gull?”
“Stare at. Gape. Gawk.”
“I must beg a lady’s pardon, but your beauty robbed us of—”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“—our good manners. I am Maltese, second in line to the throne of the SandLands, Prince of the—”
“Fine, I’m Lois, nice to meet you.”
The other blond—they were as alike as twins, except this one had eyes the deep green of wet leaves, while Maltese’s eyes were the color of the sea after a winter storm. “I am Shakar, third in line to the—”
“Meetcha. You mind turning around while I put this on?”
“I do mind, yes.”
“I also.”
She almost grinned. They hadn’t sounded like sarcastic jerks, just honest. “Fine, I’ll turn.” She did, and heard an exhalation of breath come from someone. What now? Were they admiring the dimples on her ass? Christ!
“How did my lady come here?”
“To make a long story short, Damon gave me a ride.”
Zeka gasped. “But the royal family never—”
“Zeka,” Maltese said reprovingly. “What our good brother does is none of our concern…usually.”
“Forgive, my good prince.”
When she turned back, Damon was shooing his brothers away with helpful punches to their shoulders. She opened her mouth but he cupped her chin in one hand, effortlessly stifling her outburst. “I believe I requested you stay in the courtyard,” he said solemnly, but his eyes crinkled at the corners in a friendly way.
“What am I, your dog? ‘Sit, Lois. Stay.’ Shyeah! Besides, I don’t like being left by myself,” she added in a grumble.
“Then I shall endeavor to be at your side at all times.”
“Uh—that’s not exactly what I—”
“Lois! My good son!”
“Just a minute, we’re talking. Jeez, sick people, I swear to God. Now, listen, Damon, I gotta figure out about a zillion things, here, like where I’m gonna stay, and—”
“With me.”
“Uh. Okay, that’s very nice and all, but—”
“Put her in the chambers beside mine,” the king called.
Lois thought that was awfully nice of him, but the effect on Damon was dramatic: his eyes went narrow and flinty and he actually snarled, snarled, like one big pissed-off cat. Puma. Whatever.
He spun around and stalked back to the king’s bed. “What be you thinking, my good king who will be my dead king if he tries to take my prize?”
“Peace, my son. The lady needs a chamber appropriate to her station…whatever that will be. And we have agreed those rooms would suit that station, yes?”
“Uh…yes.”
“Those rooms have been empty too long. As to the other matter,” the old king added coolly, a tone that caused Damon to flush and drop his eyes, “I have not decided.”
“What? What does that mean? What’s everyone talking about? Can I get a translator or something? Hey, get your ass back in bed!” She walked over and gave the king a gentle push. He seized her arm with surprising strength, and Lois found herself pulled forward onto the king’s giant bed, with an old man who was as strong as an ox staring right into her eyes. “Listen, buster, I’m all for respecting your elders, but you’ve got about half a second to—”
“Peace, Lady Lois. I only wished to catch the full effect of your scent.” He sniffed her hair. “Feh! You smell much like my yetch, despite your washup. Damon, see that she gets a proper bath. Lois, when you are clean, come back and tell me more of your world. I wish to hear more about ‘the IA pricks and the dumb-ass political games.’”
“After you eat your soup,” she said firmly.
“The child knows our station and yet dares to give the king orders! Well, ’twould not kill me to obey, instead of being obeyed. It will be as you wish, Lois. But you must stay for a long time and tell many stories.”
Despite Damon’s frown, she agreed.
Chapter 5
“Damn!”
“Is something wrong?”
“Hardly.” Lois stared at the bathing room. It was about half the size of the king’s chambers, which meant it was the largest bathroom in the galaxy. Instead of a tub, there was a pool in the middle of the room, and from the perfume in the air, it was more of that delicious bathing water Zeka had poured for her. Big bunches of white flowers—the blooms were as big as her fist—floated in the pool. They looked like fluffy orchids. There were several marble countertops scattered about the room, and two people were getting massages.
“May I bathe with you, Lady Lois?”
/> “Uh—” No way. Buzz off. I usually take baths by myself. I doubt I’ll be able to keep my hands off you, so for your own safety… “Sure.” Given that there were at least half a dozen people in the room, she wasn’t worried about her virtue—not that she had any to worry about. Besides, he’d opened up his home to her, and she would have a place to sleep, at least for tonight. To refuse—especially when this society seemed so open about public nudity—would be churlish, to say the least.
Still, it wasn’t every day she stripped in front of strangers.
She got out of her robe as quickly as possible, tossed it on a countertop, and stepped down into the pool. She heard a gasp of appreciation behind her and rolled her eyes. What was it with these people? They clearly had her confused with Pamela Anderson.
The water was deliciously warm, and she sank into it up to her chin. She couldn’t help groaning appreciatively as the perfumed water soothed her all over. “Oh, man, this is the life.”
“Indeed.”
She whipped around; Damon had managed to come up right behind her without her hearing him. “Jeez, don’t do that! I swear I’m hanging a bell around your neck.”
He smiled at her and plucked a flower out of the water. “If it pleases you. Now, you will allow me…?”
She cautiously approached him, and he plunked the flower on top of her head. While his fingers were busily working through her hair, she realized the flower’s petals were disintegrating into a kind of soap.
His fingers were marvelously strong, and she resisted the urge to melt against him. This was probably the best day of her life—and she’d been here only three hours! She knew she should be fretting—she’d started the day planning to be dead, after all. She knew she should be thinking about how to get home, or at least worrying about her future. This place couldn’t be as great as it seemed. It just couldn’t. But all she wanted to do was let Damon rub her all over, then take a nap.
“You are sooooooo good at that.”
“Thank you. It is a true pleasure to attend to my lady’s needs.” Now he was washing her breasts, working the sudsy petals all over her skin, paying special care to her nipples, which instantly swelled and started to ache.
What’s wrong with me? I’m letting a stranger feel me up in a public bathhouse! And it feels really, really good.
She batted his hands away, and he obligingly drew her closer and began working the suds into her back. She was pressed against his broad chest and could feel his erect length pressing into her stomach.
Thank goodness it’s a public bath, or who knows what I’d let this guy do.
“Um.” She turned her face so her cheek was resting against his nipple. It was either that, or give in to the urge to lick it. “Thanks for letting me stay here. I s’pose I should figure out where to go tomorrow, or at least—”
“Later,” Damon said firmly, still stroking her back.
“Works for me,” she sighed. One of the flowers floated by and she grabbed it. “Here, let me return the favor.” She pulled back, rubbed it over his chest, and watched in fascination as the leaves crumbled into a sweet-smelling foam. “What’s this stuff called?”
“These are beriblooms.”
“Well, they’re great. I could ship a crate to Mary Kay, make a fortune.”
“Is Mary Kay as lovely as you?” He kissed the corner of her mouth at the same time she felt his hands slide over her buttocks and rub, rub, rub.
“Um…what?”
“Mary Kay.”
His fingers were kneading her flesh, and she had to fight the urge to grab his cock.
“What about Mary Kay?”
“What?”
“Um.”
“Ah.”
She was reaching for what she craved when…
“Oh ho, good brother!”
She looked up and saw the other two princes standing by the pool. The smaller one—“smaller” meaning he was only five inches taller than she, as opposed to seven—was kneeling by the pool, dabbling his fingers in the water. The taller one—was it Maltese? What, was that as in falcon?—was standing with his arms crossed over his chest. She jerked back from Damon, feeling her face grow hot from mortification.
“Now, my good lordly brother, you must give everyone a chance,” Maltese chided.
“No I must not,” Damon replied cheerfully. He reached out and pulled Lois back against his soapy chest. She wriggled, but he had a grip like iron.
“It should be an interesting sunrise, then,” Shakar said, grinning. “Even more so if Father joins in.”
Damon lost his smile, not to mention his hard-on. “You don’t think—?”
“No. Still, he is our good lord, and his will is the will of the SandLands, so who knows?”
“I wish you guys would tell me what you’re talking about,” she said irritably. Then, to Damon, “Leggo.”
“Tomorrow is the Bridefight,” Shakar explained. “Many, many royals and nobles will come to battle for mates. The winner gets first choice of the ladies. The second-winner gets second choice, and so on. This happens once every three sunrounds, so it is our great good luck that you are visiting.”
“Oh. Say, you’re not kidding. That sounds kind of interesting. Can I watch?”
“You are the guest of honor,” Damon whispered in her ear, which made her shiver.
“Quit that. Great! I’d sure like to see it. Uh—you guys don’t battle to the death or anything, do you?”
“Hardly ever,” Maltese said after a pause.
Shakar considered for a long moment, then gave her what he probably thought was a reassuring smile, showing only about six hundred teeth. “No one has perished in many, many sunrounds.”
“Of course, when there is a new element—”
“Tempers flare.”
“But all will probably be well.”
“The three of you can stop teasing me any second now,” she said irritably. “Really, you’re like a bunch of kids.”
“Goats?”
“Children.”
“Ah! Cubs!”
“Anyway. I’m clean enough. And so are you,” she told Damon, who tried to grab her again, but slick as an eel, she slipped away. “Can someone show me where I’m s’posed to sleep?”
Maltese and Shakar tussled so hard for the privilege, it was an easy matter for Damon to boot them into the pool, and escort Lois to her sleeping chambers.
Lois peeked in on the king, who was asleep. “I’ll come back tomorrow morning,” she whispered to Damon.
“I will tell him, if he is wakeful.”
“Thanks.”
He brought her to the next chamber, which was as large as the king’s, except with softer colors—moss greens and tans and pinks.
“Holy cow!” She added in a whisper, “Are you sure I’m supposed to sleep here?”
The two servants—the room was so big she hadn’t noticed them right away—jumped to attention. “Good even, my lady!” one of them—it was Zeka—said. “If it is your will, we will help you retire.”
“Would my lady like a bedsnack ere she retires?” The other servant, a short, stocky man with reddish blond hair and a goatee, stepped forward with a covered tray.
“A bedsn—yeah, sounds great. A sandwich would be perfect.”
“We have pupoons, graldens, and derslangs.”
Pupoons turned out to be fruit that tasted like a strawberry mated with a pear, except it had blue, pebbly skin. Graldens were delightfully chewy nuts that put hazelnuts to shame—and you could eat the shells, too! Derslangs were tiny little biscuits that tasted like they’d been smothered in honey and butter, and baked until tender.
“No more,” Lois groaned sometime later. “Cripes, I’m so full I’m gonna puke. And I think there’s been enough of that for one day.”
“Good eve,” Damon said to the servants, who cleaned up the platters and quickly left.
“Say, they had a major attitude adjustment,” Lois commented, sitting on the bed. “When I was hel
ping your dad, I thought they were gonna hit me.”
“Mmmm.”
“You didn’t—uh—say anything, did you?”
“No. My father did…when he gave you the queen’s chambers.”
She blinked. “The queen’s?”
“My departed mother’s,” he said simply. “She took a bedfever when our sister was born, and perished. My sister did not wish to be a babe without her dam, and quickly followed her to the Place of Spirits.”
“I’m sorry. That sucks.”
“Yes. It sucked quite a lot.”
“How old were you when it happened?”
“I had sixteen sunrounds.”
“That’s really rotten. Both my parents are dead, but at least I got to grow up first.”
“It would seem we have a great deal in common.”
“Yeah, sure.” Not. She changed the subject. “It was nice of your dad to give me your mom’s room, but do you think it’s okay? I mean, this is the queen’s bedroom. I’m a nobody. I can’t even get a Gold Card back home.”
“The king’s will is our will.”
“Still.” But she shrugged and climbed under the covers. The bed was delightfully soft and she sank into it a good eight inches. “Ahhhhhhhh, I could get used to this.”
“That is good.”
“What?”
He bent over her. It was so creepy, the way he could cross a room without making a sound. “Good even, my lady.” He kissed her on the forehead, like a brother.
“Night, Damon. Thanks again for everything today.”
He kissed her on the cheek like a brother.
“Uh—good night.”
He kissed her on the mouth, not remotely like a brother. His tongue swept inside and his hand was on the back of her neck—hard, possessive. She figured she should kick or gouge or something, but he smelled great and he was unbelievably gorgeous and, hey, he was a prince, too. What the fuck.
She kissed him back. She rubbed her tongue against his and clutched his shoulders, which were thrumming with strain. He made a noise, deep in his throat, quite like a growl, and then she was tugging him toward her.
“Don’t just stand there,” she growled. “Tuck me in.”