Dark Empress: The Onic Empire, Book 5 Read online

  “It’s not a joking matter!” His father’s bellow echoed inside the now mostly empty butler.

  “It’s also none of your business.” Lorren found his discarded pants by the chair Errion had settled into. Now he remembered—he’d taken them off to show him putting his dick in the maid’s mouth was safe. He chuckled when he thought the same could not be said about the butler’s butt.

  “Laugh now, Lorren, because you will remember this day for the rest of your life as the day I cut you from the family business.”

  “Are you deliberately trying to ignore me?” Dressed in a smartly tailored hunter green suit that had men and women alike swooning, Errion sipped his drink, looking every bit like the civilized businessman he was. He’d even gone so far as to tame his bright blond hair off his face and out of his eyes. Lorren had to deliberately keep his hands to himself and not muss his hair into the normal style he wore. He looked good, but he didn’t look like himself. Errion’s natural state was slightly messy and ultracasual. This was the first time he’d seen him wearing shoes in almost half a turn.

  “No, my friend.” Lorren thought he looked just as devastating in his dark brown suit that enhanced his golden eyes and brought out the sun streaks in his shaggy brown hair. “I was remembering our testing of the prototype butler.”

  Errion almost sputtered out his drink. Once he swallowed, he tossed back his head and let loose a laugh that drew the attention of everyone near them in the crowded ballroom. “What a day that was!” Errion glanced over at one of the many maids in the room. “And to think we’ve only improved on their amazing mouths.”

  “Not that my father would ever allow anything so gauche in his home.”

  Snidely, Errion whispered, “Bet he has one behind closed doors.”

  “Naw, I think Shyla’s enhanced vagina keeps him well satisfied. That is, after all, why he married her.” Lorren frowned as he considered his drink. Why his father thought sex organs on a mechanical maid were disgusting but proudly told all within earshot of his wife’s enhancements was something Lorren would never understand.

  “Does it still bother you?”

  “That he took Shyla for himself? No. I never loved her.” To be honest, he hadn’t even liked her. “But that he threw over my mother for a girl less than half his age and one sixteenth of his intelligence is nothing but disgusting.”

  Errion nodded, which caused a few strands of hair to fall across his brow. “How is your mother?”

  “Fine. Pleased we’re moving forward with the new line.” Lorren owed his father a huge debt. Had he not disowned him all those turns ago, Lorren never would have had the nudge he needed to strike out on his own. Well, not totally on his own. Errion had opened his home, his wallet and even his oversize bed when Lorren arrived with only the clothing on his back and the damaged pleasure hole in his satchel. They’d worked together ever since, selling the enhancements as aftermarket upgrades. After a turn, they had the money to buy their own manufacturing plant; after another turn, they bought their own manor, and now, six turns later, they could afford just about anything they wanted.

  Sadly, Lorren still wasn’t happy. He was satisfied with his life. He enjoyed what he did, and his relationship with Errion was just as solid as ever, but there was something missing.

  Errion had suggested he was bored and needed a challenge.

  Lorren had gone on a series of holidays that included dangerous activities that took him far into the air or far below the water or to the extremes of temperature. He enjoyed the adrenaline rush, but he always felt a little hollow when he returned.

  Errion had then suggested conquering new markets, and that had satisfied him for a time, but eventually that too wore thin.

  The only reason they’d come to this event tonight was to try something different: philanthropy. Errion thought if they did some good by saving interstellar orphans, they would boost the company image and give Lorren something new to focus on.

  However, being back in his father’s home had set his mind down the path of memory. All the crazy inventions he’d tried here. All the times he and Errion had gotten caught in dalliances, usually together, sometimes apart, but always unashamed of what they’d done.

  Content was a word that clung to Errion, because in all their time together, Lorren had never known him to regret anything he’d ever done. Lorren tried to project that same satisfied image, and to the outside world, he succeeded, but inside second thoughts consumed him. He’d often lay awake at night examining all the possible outcomes to alternate choices.

  Errion told him his brain was simply too big and he should find a way to shut it off. Sex dampened his overactive intellect, but he could not spend his entire life in bed, no matter how Errion tempted him to do so. And then Lorren had discovered his deepest, darkest fantasy. He’d been utterly consumed. But like his first butler, something had gone horribly wrong. Even though forgoing his longings was difficult, he backed away, tucking his true nature deep down inside where none would ever see the beast again.

  For a time, he’d avoided sex of all types, but that was unsatisfactory. Lately, he’d fallen into a humdrum pattern of mediocre encounters that satisfied his body but left his soul untouched. A poor compromise, but the best he could do, and such transitory encounters were utterly harmless. Still, Lorren felt a destiny lingering just beyond his awareness. When he’d tried to tell this to Errion, he’d listened politely but eventually broke down into chuckles.

  “Destiny? Like those old tales about magic weapons and damsels in distress and that whole lot?” Errion flashed him that lopsided grin. “Come on, my friend, let’s find you a woman to take your mind off your troubles.”

  They’d found a woman that night and happily shared her. Lorren had never broached the subject again, but still he felt something within him waiting, and not leaning casually against a wall waiting, but crouched down and ready to strike waiting. He just wished he knew what it was he was waiting for.

  Chapter Two

  Errion realized too late that attending a party at the D’Buren estate was probably not the best idea he’d ever had. Lorren seemed distracted, and he didn’t think the remembrance of that day in the study was to blame.

  A smile tugged hard at Errion’s lips when he wandered down that particular memory lane. What a day that had been! He’d never been one to think mechanical aids could ever substitute for the real thing, but Lorren’s invention had changed his mind. The maid’s mouth had swallowed his flesh into gooey warmth with just the right pressure, just the right undulating action along his shaft, and when he reached the pinnacle, she didn’t flinch back as so many young ladies had. No, the maid gulped his climax down eagerly.

  Spectacular didn’t come close to describing the feeling. Had he been more of a whimsical youth, he might have fancied himself in love with the maid, but Errion was too much a creature of pleasure to ever consider such nonsense. He loved sensual delights. No matter if they came from a man, a woman, or even a machine. He did not worry over love, as that was best left to dandies and poets. Errion concerned himself with gratification. He found going into business with Lorren to build pleasure enhancements a natural extension of his own temperament.

  His mind turned to later that day, with Lorren in the foyer of the Ald’Areed estate, his head down, satchel slung over his back, his face woebegone and tragic. Errion’s heart had broken to see his friend so downtrodden. But Errion knew just what to do. He took Lorren by the hand and drew him down to the cobweb-shrouded cellar, where old furniture and the mishmash of a hundred turns had collected.

  Together they cleared away the rubble, set up a table with the brightest lights they could find and the best tools they could salvage, and then they’d set to work. Meticulously they’d taken apart the ruined pleasure hole, but they were unable to determine the reason for the meltdown. They’d had far more luck with the defective slicker. When a combination of the ingredients in the slicker and Errion’s body lotion united, they turned into a rather s
trong adhesive that only alcohol could dissolve.

  High from the success of their discovery, they decided the only way to determine what went wrong with the butler was to retrieve him. Errion agreed, mainly because he wanted to retrieve the maid as well. In the dark of night, they’d broken into D’Buren manor. They found them where they’d left them, in the study. Apparently, Lorren’s father could not be troubled to clean up the mess, or he hadn’t bothered to order the servants to do so. Probably too embarrassed. Lorren suggested that his father would have had someone from outside the staff deal with the remains to avoid any hint of scandal. As if the servants didn’t already have enough to discuss what with the shenanigans the two of them had gotten into over the turns.

  Loath to activate the butler less he start wailing again, Lorren had the bright idea of having the maid carry him. Even though the maid looked delicate with her spindly golden arms and legs, she was capable of lifting many times her own body weight.

  Once she had the butler in her arms, carrying him in his kneeling position, Errion had gotten a case of the giggles that not even the threat of discovery could stanch. Lorren had been furious until he’d really looked at the blank-faced maid, her lower arms under the butler’s hips and chest, holding him out like an offering, and then he too had to smother his chuckles.

  Halfway across the verdant lawn, they’d been spotted, and his father’s guards had given chase, but the maid was fast, and Lorren and Errion could easily outrun a bunch of tubby old men who rarely had to do more than walk around the grounds. Still, the rush had been fantastic. Once they returned to Errion’s home and left the robots in the cellar, Errion had pushed Lorren against the nearest wall and kissed him hard and fast, adrenaline rushing through his body, making him tremble with excitement. They’d fornicated in frantic need, feeding off each other’s exhilaration until they dropped into two satisfied heaps of spent flesh.

  They’d been together ever since, building their empire, separate and apart from what Errion would inherit with the passing of his father. Unlike Lorren’s father, Errion’s father didn’t care one whit about Errion’s activities. He was far too busy building his business and rarely had time for his son. It had been over ten turns since he’d set foot inside his own manor house, effectively leaving Errion in charge. By the time he’d returned, Errion was long gone, snug in the palatial estate he and Lorren had built together. Errion’s mother had left shortly after bestowing him upon his father. Taking her lucrative alimony, she’d fled to parts unknown. Errion had never bothered to connect to her, nor she to him. For all intents and purposes, Errion was practically an orphan. Maybe that’s why he’d wanted to give money to the cause—he felt a kinship with all those abandoned children.

  Tonight had been another in a series of ideas to pull Lorren out of his funk. Nothing seemed to work, and Errion had tried just about everything he could think of. If he were a more creative man, he would fashion a quest of some kind that would fulfill Lorren’s dreams of destiny. Not that Errion grasped that odd need himself. He was content to do what he’d always done: live life each spin as it came, never worrying about tomorrow or yesterday. Errion lived for now. He could not decide what Lorren did. Sometimes Lorren lived so deeply in the past, Errion could not reach him, but other times he seemed so far in the future he was unintelligible.

  With a sigh, Errion considered his friend. Dashing in his deep brown suit, Lorren had chosen to keep his hair wild and untamed, with dark brown strands falling over his forehead and into his golden gaze. He’d forgotten to shave, which gave him a somewhat scruffy appearance, but a sophisticated kind of unkempt look. The ladies could not keep their eyes off the pair of them, but Errion was used to such attention, whereas Lorren never seemed to notice. If Lorren did notice, he always thought they were looking at Errion. Amazing how Lorren was oblivious to his own powerful allure. Men and women wanted either to surrender to him or to possess him. Despite her marriage to the elder D’Buren, Shyla could not take her eyes off Lorren for long. Every time Errion glanced in her direction, she was considering the man at his side, her expression wistful. When she caught Errion looking, she would startle, then frown, turning away with studied disdain.

  She wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all her husband, who glowered at his son as if he wished to confront him, but the rules of society held him back. To create a scene with his cast-out child in his own home would set tongues to wagging and reopen long-closed wounds. Besides, the elder D’Buren seemed to know that Lorren had no interest in Shyla. He hadn’t long ago, and he certainly didn’t now.

  And then, a miracle.

  Into the crowded ballroom walked a woman who drew every eye to her. A crimson dress clung to her caramel flesh, encasing her in sparkling fabric that caressed every luscious bit of her form. She had more curves than a coiled serpent, but hers looked far more deadly. Big breasts, a tiny waist, generous hips, and a face that was as stunning as it was unique. Her face was a long oval, her straight nose perfectly centered between dark, mysterious eyes. Her full lips balanced out the proportions of her visage, the dark berry color making Errion think of meticulously aged wine. Black hair was slicked against her regal head and gathered in a simple clasp at her neck. A man could lose himself exploring a woman that magnificent.

  “Now that, my good friend, is a challenge.” Errion spoke out the side of his mouth so only Lorren could hear.

  Errion knew he was on the right path when Lorren’s tongue slid to the corner of his upper lip. He always got that look when something, or someone, riveted his attention. To her credit, the woman had effortlessly commanded the interest of everyone in the room. Still, Errion rejoiced that he’d finally found a way to engage Lorren in something beyond his own incredible mind.

  Behind her and to her sides, twenty massive guards followed her into the room. They drew just as much startled attention as she, for they were dressed in curious short brown skirts with massive belts clipped with three deadly looking weapons. On their feet, they wore…sandals. Similar to the kind the ladies wore to sun themselves. However, the stout men were anything but ladylike. Muscles rippled along their exposed flesh. Hard eyes scanned the crowd, looking for anything or anyone who might be a threat to the woman they protected.

  “Who is she?”

  Errion wasn’t sure who asked, as several voices overlapped.

  “She is a goddess,” Lorren said, looking as if he would fall to his knees in worship.

  Errion’s joy evaporated. He wanted to set his friend a challenge, not send him into bondage, and the way he was looking at the mysterious woman in red, that’s what would happen if she so much as glanced at him now—she would own him. Mind, body and soul would be hers for the taking. Never had he seen Lorren so absorbed.

  Deliberately, Errion nudged him, jostling his arm and spilling his drink, but Lorren didn’t notice. A robotic maid unobtrusively came near, sucked up the drink with her foot and rolled away. Still, Lorren did not take his eyes from the woman. When his expression changed to glowering fury, Errion looked across the room.

  Lorren’s father greeted the woman with a deep bow. She nodded in return. When he tried to touch her hand and presumably bestow a kiss to the back of it, her brows condemned him a fool as she stepped back. All her guards stepped in. Lorren’s father retreated with his hands up. Clearly, touching her was not permitted, and Errion doubted any other man here would make such a foolish mistake.

  “I will have her or die.”

  Errion rolled his eyes. He was all for a challenge, but this was foolishness. Whoever she was, she undoubtedly had a string of suitors from which to choose. It was unlikely she would set her sights on two businessmen who specialized in pleasure unit upgrades for robotic servants. Errion had never been ashamed of what he did, but a woman like that married a king, not a man who tinkered with pleasure holes. And then his heart stopped beating when he realized exactly what Lorren meant. He would have her, not they would have her. Lorren wasn’t looking for an interesting bed partner
for them to share; he was looking to make the annoyingly beautiful woman his for a lifetime.

  Destiny be damned, but it seemed after all this time, Lorren had found exactly what he was missing. With the capture of it, there would be no place for Errion. Now his heart beat triple time, making his hand tremble, causing his drink to splash within the glass. To avoid spilling it, Errion polished off the double-strength brandy in one swallow. The fumes watered his eyes or maybe, for the first time in his life, he wasn’t as casual about his relationship with Lorren as he wanted to pretend he was.

  Chapter Three

  Farjika could almost feel the eyes upon her as she made her grand entrance. Keeping her head high took tremendous fortitude as an overwhelming urge to turn and run possessed her, but she was a future empress. Fear was not what one showed to those of an alien world. Her mother had returned Diola to financial stability, but Diola had to break free from isolation. To that end, Farjika became a diplomat. She was here to bestow charitable funds but also to show the other worlds that Diolans were concerned galactic citizens.

  Many had heard of Diola, but they knew little about their true ways. Mainly people thought Diolans either worshiped odd gods and had warped notions about sex, or that they worshiped sex and had warped notions about gods. Neither was true, and that’s what Farjika was supposed to change: how the civilized worlds viewed her people. So far, all she’d done was convince herself that her world was the only truly civilized place in all the universe. Even here, with this show of graciousness and finery, she felt the perversity lurking below. All this was a façade to hide what these people were truly like behind closed doors.

  Not that Farjika could cast judgment upon others, not when her mother’s reputation preceded her. Many new acquaintances would peer at her, their brows lowered in concentration as they considered Farjika’s features. Something familiar, they would say. They would keep staring and thinking until they finally remembered. Then their eyes flew wide, their mouths dropped open and they hurried away. Farjika would be left standing there, drink in hand, guards at her back, her face a mask to hold back a rushing tide of embarrassment. Sometimes before they departed, they would remark how much she looked like her mother. Alternately proud and dismayed by the comment, Farjika would simply nod, hoping to convey gracious acceptance as she prayed to all the gods that the person would not elaborate on their remark.