As she spoke, Toric’s smile returned, and by the time she finished, he was grinning with open indulgence. “A game?” he said laughingly, like she was a child trying to take part in an adult conversation. “That’s what you think this is? Some little game for power?” He shook his head. “You’re not thinking big enough, little bird.”
“And you’re not thinking clearly if you don’t realize what’s building,” Zoa said. “I don’t know if you can see them from your palace, Toric, but the people are very close to rebellion. Whatever you’re doing, the breaking of the Empire helps no one. Stop this now before you doom us all.”
“Why would I stop?” Toric said, tilting his head. “Dooming us all is exactly what I’m trying to do.”
Zoa froze, her breath stopping, her body still as stone. Suddenly, everything was wrong, nothing made sense. Her thoughts were in free fall and Toric was grinning as though that was exactly what he wanted.
“What do I care for the Empire?” he said, his voice soft as a caress. “The emperor’s laws preserve order and protect the weak, his Legions cull the barbarians and his taxes buy grain to keep the people fed and content. Everything is made safe, peaceable, all the edges sanded off. Tell me, Zoa, what kind of life is that?”
“A good one,” she said firmly.
“A civilized life,” Toric corrected. “But civility, law, order, these are the aspects of Solus. They have nothing to do with human desire, with the reality of what we are. The truth, little bird, is that humans are animals. Rule, peace, Empire, these are nothing but the leash Solus uses to keep us tied, because without them, we revert to our natural state. Left to our own devices, we always go right back to the way we were meant to live—with the strong on top and weak below, our boots on their necks.”
Zoa stepped back, trembling not with fear now, but with rage. “You are mad,” she spat. “You’re trying to destroy the Empire?”
“I would be mad not to,” Toric said. “I am a Chosen of Dezira, given no edict but to follow my desire. Without law, without order, without Empire, there is nothing but power. And power is my desire.”
Zoa clenched her fists. “I won’t let you!”
The moment the words left her mouth, she knew she’d made a mistake. She was supposed to be distracting Toric, not challenging him. A white moon couldn’t beat a black moon on a normal day, their powers just weren’t made for it. But even if she’d been a black moon, she couldn’t have beaten Toric with all the power he was pulling. She wasn’t sure if Silas could beat him like this. But the challenge was already out, and almost before she could regret the words, Toric moved.
His hand shot out, sliding around her waist to land on the small of her back. Zoa gasped in alarm. Through the sheer cloth, it felt like his hand was directly against her skin, but it wasn’t, and though she tried to push him away, it was like trying to push a mountain. With a rough pull, he drew her up against his bare chest. Frantic, she pressed her hands against his skin, waiting for the flash that would push him away, but nothing happened. Her face must have been a sight, for Toric’s deep chuckle vibrated against her.
“No, no, little bird,” he whispered, ducking his head so that his voice was right in her ear. “Dezira’s power may protect you from my touch, but it doesn’t work if you touch me.” He reached down, gathering a handful of her hair and wrapping it around his fingers. Then, using her long, dark hair as a barrier, he took her chin in his hand and tilted her head up to look at him.
For the first time since she’d entered, Zoa was truly afraid. The look in Toric’s eyes had nothing to do with rebellions or emperors. It was pure, unadulterated power, the kind of power that drove conquerors to burn the lands they took rather than let another have them, and it was entirely directed at her.
“You escaped me once.” The words were like ice on her ears. “But I don’t lose twice, little bird. You came to me. My barrier keeps Silas out and Dezira won’t save you this time, not when you put yourself so willingly into my power.” Her hair unraveled as he dropped his hand from her chin to her breast, caressing it through the sheer cloth of the dress, and the lust that hit her was black as the moon on his forehead.
Suddenly, she was gasping, her knees shaking. She would have fallen had Toric not caught her, but she would have rather crashed to the floor than end up where she did, pressed against him with his arms holding her up. The lust was his, none of her own, and despite the fact that they were both Chosen, it had hit her as hard as if she’d been mortal, leaving her panting against his chest. Her face was pressed against his neck, their skin in full contact, but the white light didn’t save her. In fact, the room was darker than before, and she realized with a stab of terror that the white moon on her forehead had gone out.
“How?” she whimpered, trying to push away, but her arms wouldn’t obey her.
Toric just picked her up, sliding his hands roughly over her body as he did. Another wave of lust hit her at the touch and Toric laughed at her reaction, a cruel, delighted sound. “Five years and you still don’t understand?” he said, carrying her over to his throne. “You were never free of me, little bird. I made you. The bond between us is something not even Dezira can break, and now, this close, surrounded by this much power, you have no hope at all.” And then, to prove it, he reached up and caressed her cheek with his fingers. His bare, hard fingers. And nothing happened.
Zoa made a despairing sound deep in her throat, and to her shame, it turned into a groan as the strongest burst of lust yet, hit her full on. Toric’s power seared through her mind, flooding and twisting it until she felt like she had never Awakened at all. When he sat down, settling her on his lap, Zoa didn’t even try to fight. Instead, she clung to him, biting her lip against the feel of his erection beneath her, the long shaft pressing against the leather she could feel clearly through her dress.
“Foolish little bird,” Toric whispered, sliding his hand over her waist and down between her legs. “You never should have come back. You’re mine forever now. And this time,” his fingers pressed against her clit through the thin, thin silk. “This time you will beg.”
Zoa cried out in longing and bitter shame as the black lust rolled over her. It was a tidal wave now, a great crushing weight fed by the enormous power of the orgy below and Toric’s own blinding lust. As it dragged her under, Zoa’s last frantic thought was of Jeric and Izar. At least she’d done her part, she thought bitterly. Toric was certainly distracted. No matter what else was lost tonight, her lovers would free the emperor and avert the rebellion. But that was cold comfort indeed as Toric’s mouth landed on her bare throat, his teeth painful as they dragged across her skin.
“Moan for me, Zoa,” he commanded, licking his way down to her breasts.
And though she bit her teeth against it, her body obeyed, moaning softly.
Toric grabbed her hair and pulled, yanking her back so that she was spread out like an offering across him. “Louder,” he demanded. “I want all my whores below to hear how much you want me.” His face broke into a smile then, and his hands softened as he reached up to gently slide the dress from her shoulders. “And you do want me, don’t you, little bird? Scream it for me. Scream that you want me.”
Zoa tried to shake her head, but he was holding her hair so tight she couldn’t move. It would have been a lie, anyway. With the black lust singing through her body, she was panting for him like a dog in heat. And so she screamed, a great, ragged, wordless cry.
Toric’s hand released her hair, and she flopped against him as he brought both hands around to grip her breasts, drawing them up to his mouth. As his teeth grazed her nipples, she screamed again, a bitter cry and pleasure, pain and shame that echoed to the very top of the palace.
* * * * *
When the temple palanquin bearers signaled that Zoa was inside, Izar told his men to stand ready. They were hidden in the dark alley behind Toric’s palace, just outside the kitchen gate. The soldiers were the men who had come down with them from the north, and they wished their captain and lieutenant luck as Izar and Jeric, dressed in plain dark clothes, ran across the street to the palace wall. Jeric hopped up first, clearing the wall like it was a garden fence. Once he was up, he reached down for Izar, pulling his captain up to join him with one hand.
“Gods,” Izar whispered, glancing down the ten feet of wall Jeric had just hauled him up. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.”
Jeric gave him a smug smile. “Dezira’s physical gifts might not match those of the Sun’s Chosen, but we’re no slouches. I bet Zoa could lift you over her head if she really tried.”
“I’ll have to remember that,” Izar said wickedly, taking a second to image all the new aspects such strength could add to their lovemaking.
The lustful thoughts must have been clear on his face, because Jeric gave him an exasperated look. But despite the Chosen’s glare, Izar could feel Jeric’s affection through the bond, and he gave his lover a devious grin.
Jeric shook his head and looked away, scanning the grounds below like he was looking for something. “We’re inside Toric’s influence now, I think,” he whispered. “Feel anything?”
“Other than what I normally feel when I look at you?” Izar said, grin widening. “No. Looks like the bond you put on me is working.”
Jeric snorted softly. “I’m glad. If you got any hornier than you normally are, there would be serious trouble.”
“You keep talking like that and there will be,” Izar teased, running his hand over Jeric’s thigh. When the former lieutenant gave him a sharp look, Izar sighed dramatically. “I know, I know. Work first.”
They slid down the other side of the wall, landing in the dark kitchen garden. The kitchen doors were thrown wide and they could see servants moving inside, their shapes outlined by the cookfires. They were all moving furiously, preparing enormous trays of fine food like they were cooking for an army of emperors. Fortunately, this activity kept them far too busy to notice two shapes in the dark as Izar and Jeric crept down the wall, moving deeper into the ornamental garden surrounding the main house.
Most of the activity seemed to be around the central structure. There were fires burning on the walls there and guards moving in pairs. But the wing where Emperor Vallus was supposedly housed was dark and quiet. The garden here was thick and overgrown and seemingly unguarded, and that struck Izar as odd. What treasure could Toric have in his main hall that was more important than the emperor? Of course, there could be more guards inside. If so, they’d find out soon enough.
They crept along until they were directly below the balcony of what was supposed to be Vallus’ bedroom. The wooden balcony doors were flung open to the night and the dim light from the shaded lamps was enough to cast long shadows over the tree where Izar and Jeric hid. Izar pulled out his map and checked their position one last time.
“This should be it,” he whispered, folding the map and shoving it into his pocket. “Ready?”
“Ready,” Jeric whispered back, taking the weighted line from his belt.
Izar grinned and leaned back against the tree’s trunk to watch the show. Jeric stepped out, his tall, lovely body bracing as he swung the line until it was flying in a whistling circle. And then, sharp as a hunter loosing an arrow, he let it go. The line flew perfectly, the weight wrapping around the wooden balcony railing with a soft
thunk.
Jeric gave the rope a tug, and then turned to his captain. “After you.”
“You know,” Izar said, taking the rope with a lingering touch on Jeric’s hand. “I used to watch you throw these things back on the front. High point of day, usually.”
“Well, you always were a lech,” Jeric said, squeezing Izar’s rear as the captain hauled himself up.
“You like me best that way,” Izar whispered back. Winking rakishly, he started pulling himself hand over hand up the rope.
And the best part was, he knew he was right. He could feel the thrill his confession had given Jeric humming through the bond they’d forged that afternoon. Zoa had been right, it had faded a little from that initial rush, but not much. He could still feel them both, their bodies and their emotions, like they were extensions of himself. The connection was thrilling and deeply satisfying. Izar very much enjoyed being able to keep such easy contact with his lovers, especially when it would let him find new ways to thrill them.
He felt the flex of Jeric’s muscles like his own as the Chosen steadied the rope. He could feel Zoa as well, inside the house and below, on the first floor. Unlike Jeric, though, he couldn’t tell what she was feeling. At first, he’d thought it was distance, but that didn’t make sense. He’d been able to feel her in the palanquin, and he was closer now than he’d been then. No, it was like there was something in the way, a dark fog that kept him from touching her, and that bothered him.
It bothered Jeric too. He could feel his lover’s nervousness, though he knew if he looked down he’d see Jeric’s face as stern as ever. But there was nothing they could do for Zoa now except get the emperor out as fast as possible, so Izar forced himself to focus on his climb as he broke free of the tree’s crown at last. He had to scramble the last five feet to the balcony with no cover at all, but fortunately the guards who kept the Royal Quarter safe also ensured that the streets stayed empty, so there was no one to see.
When he reached the wooden railing, Izar peeked inside. The balcony opened into a small alcove that was attached to the large bedroom where the emperor was supposedly staying. He could hear voices inside, a man’s foolish drunken slur followed by giggles from at least two different woman, but he couldn’t see anyone yet. That suited Izar just fine. Silently, he climbed over the railing and dropped to a crouch, pulling on the rope to signal Jeric to come up.