Pwal­dur was be­side him­self with rage. “This is ridicu­lous! Nar­pok is my daugh­ter, my life! My em­per­ors, she has ob­vi­ously lost her senses and needs the help of her physi­cian.”

  Nar­pok turned to stare at him through the pro­tec­tive bar­rier of the Royal Guards. The fury in her face dis­ap­peared in an ex­pres­sion of hor­ror as she faced her fa­ther.

  “I know what you’ve done,” she whis­pered loud enough to echo in the silent coun­cil cham­ber. “I know what you’ve done.”

  As Cla­jak stared in shock, he saw some­thing in Nar­pok’s eyes break. The void that had hinted at the edges of her de­meanor through­out the en­tire ses­sion swept over her vis­age, leav­ing her face blank. She stood as stiff and un­feel­ing as a block of wood, the steady rise and fall of her chest the only sign of life in her body.

  “Nar­pok?” Pwal­dur’s anger fled be­fore his un­cer­tainty. He took a step to­ward her, but the growls of the Royal Guard stopped him.

  Govi hur­ried to Nar­pok’s side, his arm cir­cling her shoul­ders. He turned her to face him. Her move­ments were stiff, and the empty ex­pres­sion of her slack face never changed.

  Govi’s voice filled with grief. “Her mind is gone. I must take her to the clinic im­me­di­ately for treat­ment.”

  “Go,” Tidro an­swered for the em­per­ors. “Take both these women out of here and give them all they need to re­cover.”

  “I am go­ing with Nar­pok,” Pwal­dur in­sisted.

  “You are stay­ing here and ex­plain­ing why your daugh­ter wants our pro­tec­tion from you and your friends,” Zarl com­manded, his voice omi­nous. “If you have done some­thing harm­ful to a fe­male—”

  The room erupted in shouts, the loud­est of which was Pwal­dur’s as he rushed the guards to get to Nar­pok. The Nobek guards eas­ily held him back as Govi picked up the stricken woman and car­ried her out of the cham­ber.

  Howl­ing Kalquo­ri­ans burst onto the coun­cil floor. Cla­jak watched the gallery above empty of the men who had come to view the pro­ceed­ings. The an­gry cit­i­zens stam­peded into the room, in­tent on cor­ner­ing Pwal­dur and his cronies. Royal guards­men fought to con­trol the crowd.

  “Get Princess Jes­sica out of here, my princes,” Ra­jhir or­dered Cla­jak’s clan. He in­cluded his Imdiko in his de­mands. “You too, Flen­cik. This could turn into a riot.”

  Be­vau rose from the floor with Jes­sica in his arms. He waded through the shout­ing coun­cil­men and spec­ta­tors fill­ing the floor. More royal guards­men burst into the room, quickly set­ting up a perime­ter to con­tain the flail­ing mass.

  Cla­jak grabbed Flen­cik and Egilka’s arms and pulled them af­ter Be­vau. He saw royal guards­men hus­tle Tidro and Zarl out, and he breathed a small sigh of re­lief to see two of his fa­thers safe.

  They hur­ried out of the cham­ber as Yuder, sur­rounded by guards and yelling for or­der, beat on his desk with thun­der­ous blows.

  Chap­ter 20

  Jes­sica came out of her stu­por with dif­fi­culty. Her whole body seemed to be made of lead, ly­ing heav­ily in bil­lowy soft­ness. Even her eye­lids felt weighted, re­fus­ing to open.

  A sea-scented breeze wafted over her skin, let­ting her know she was naked. Gen­tle fin­ger­tips traced the con­tours of her body. De­spite her lethargy, her spirit lifted at the fa­mil­iar ca­resses. Cla­jak, Be­vau, and Egilka were next to her.

  She stopped her silent strug­gle to open her eyes, en­joy­ing the men stroking her prone body. They touched her ev­ery­where. Oc­ca­sion­ally lips and tongues joined their ex­plo­rations, wet­ting sen­si­tive flesh. Warm honey flowed from Jes­sica’s sex.

  Some­one in­haled deeply. Be­vau said, “She’s re­spond­ing. She’ll wake soon.”

  Strong hands slid be­neath her thighs, pulling them slightly apart. Fin­gers probed the moist crevice of her sex, slip­ping against her sen­si­tive pink pearl. Jes­sica moaned faintly, still un­able to move.

  “No night­mares this time, only sweet dreams,” Cla­jak whis­pered in her ear. The fin­gers de­light­ing her sex were re­placed by lips and tongue. The un­com­pro­mis­ing strength of the tast­ing told her it was Be­vau who feasted upon her ea­ger flesh. She moaned again as his tongue dove into her core.

  The other two con­tin­ued to stroke and kiss her ev­ery­where else. The rough­ness of their tongues and the warmth of their hands ig­nited all her senses. Still she couldn’t move, and the now-fa­mil­iar ex­cite­ment of be­ing so vul­ner­a­ble to the dom­i­nat­ing Kalquo­ri­ans added to her plea­sure. It was al­most as good as when they tied her up.

  Be­vau sucked and licked as if de­ter­mined to con­sume ev­ery last drop of sweet­ness Jes­sica’s sex pro­vided. He oc­ca­sion­ally re­sponded to her grow­ing whim­pers and moans with a growl, much like an an­i­mal en­joy­ing the warm feast of a fresh kill. The scent of cin­na­mon grew heavy in the air, fight­ing with the sea salt for dom­i­nance.

  “I can­not wait for her to wake,” Be­vau said, the words gar­bled. Even as he spoke he con­tin­ued to plea­sure her with his tongue.

  “Take her then. She will not mind.” Egilka sounded sure of her, and Jes­sica was glad. Her body begged to be filled.

  Be­vau’s mouth ceased its sweet tor­ture, and he spread her legs far­ther apart to ac­com­mo­date his large frame. She sighed her grat­i­tude as his wet sexes pierced her. He slipped his en­tire length in­side and paused.

  She rel­ished the sen­sa­tion of him seated within her body, spread­ing the walls of her vagina and anus wide with his thick­nesses. Ap­par­ently the Nobek en­joyed it too, be­cause he stayed still for sev­eral mo­ments. Cla­jak and Egilka lay on ei­ther side of her, stroking up and down her torso.

  “Does it feel good?” Egilka teased.

  “I could stay here all day,” Be­vau an­swered. “If there’s any­thing bet­ter, I can’t imag­ine it.”

  Jes­sica wanted to agree. She mut­tered thickly, her words in­com­pre­hen­si­ble even to her own ears.

  Mas­cu­line chuck­les an­swered her. “I think she likes it too. Are you wak­ing, my sweet?” Cla­jak asked.

  Again Jes­sica tried to an­swer, and again her mouth wouldn’t quite co­op­er­ate. Be­vau shifted, giv­ing her a stab of plea­sure.

  “Al­low me to wake you prop­erly, my lit­tle Jes­sica,” he said, mov­ing slowly, so slowly to make her catch her breath.

  The Nobek drew back un­til only the tips of his or­gans re­mained within her. Then he pressed back in lit­tle by lit­tle, tak­ing his time. Jes­sica felt ev­ery de­li­cious inch of him in­vad­ing her womb and war­bled her ap­proval.

  “You should see how happy you look,” Be­vau whis­pered as he con­tin­ued his leisurely love­mak­ing. “To know I am the cause gives me greater plea­sure than the feel­ing of your body en­cas­ing mine.”

  Jes­sica wanted to see him ris­ing and fall­ing over her. Her eye­lids flut­tered as she strug­gled to open them. For an in­stant she suc­ceeded. A thrill shot through her as the faces of her beloveds came into brief fo­cus, look­ing down at her with gen­tle smiles. Then her heavy eyes slammed shut again, leav­ing her in dark­ness with Be­vau’s hard strength mov­ing in and out as un­hur­riedly as be­fore.

  “She’s com­ing out of it,” Cla­jak said. His mouth cov­ered hers, kiss­ing her with a thor­ough­ness that spiked her de­sire. Her sex spasmed, and Be­vau caught his breath.

  “Don’t do that again un­less you want me to lose con­trol,” he groaned. “I’m al­ready on the verge.”

  “I won­der what hap­pens if I do this?” Egilka said, mis­chief in his voice. The warmth of his tongue swirled around the nip­ple of Jes­sica’s breast, fol­lowed by his teeth clos­ing over the tip with a gen­tle nip. She cried out, her in­sides clench­ing around Be­vau harder than be­fore.

  The Nobek snarled a curse, his hips los­ing their easy rhythm with a hard jerk. “Stop it!”

  “She re­ally en­joys it when we do this to her,” Cla­jak laughed. He pinched the nip­ple clos­est to him with one hand while de­liv­er­ing a sting­ing slap to the other. Plea­sure mixed with pain, Jes­sica’s fa­vorite vice, sent her womb into con­vul­sions.

  Be­vau’s con­trol slipped free, and he plunged in and out of her as pas­sion had its way with him. Jes­sica’s spasms grew with the on­slaught. She screamed in uni­son with the Nobek as both tipped over their break­ing points.

  Be­vau’s body cov­ered hers, and he groaned in her ear as his sex pulsed. “You heart­less bas­tards,” he whis­pered to the un­con­tained amuse­ment of his clan­mates.

  “Nobeks are so easy,” Cla­jak laughed. Jes­sica heard the thumps of him re­peat­edly clap­ping Be­vau on the back.

  “Worse than ado­les­cents,” Egilka agreed, chortling. “Just a lit­tle warmth, and the an­i­mal takes over. Where’s that Imdiko con­trol of yours, Be­vau?”

  “It’s what’s keep­ing me from beat­ing you to death right now,” he mum­bled back. He sounded thor­oughly dis­gusted.

  Jes­sica opened her eyes. Cla­jak’s mer­ri­ment soft­ened as he saw her look­ing at him over Be­vau’s shoul­der. “Hello, my sweet. How do you feel?”

  Be­vau sat up, any anger he might have felt to­wards his clan­mates gone with her wak­ing. Egilka crowded close.

  Jes­sica had a hard time putting words to­gether. “My head’s all fuzzy. I can’t move,” she fi­nally man­aged.

  Egilka stroked her hair. “You were heav­ily se­dated. It will wear off in a lit­tle while.”

  Se­dated? Jes­sica was con­fused for an in­stant, and then she re­mem­bered the de­bate in the coun­cil cham­bers. A wave of em­bar­rass­ment washed over her as she re­called her hys­ter­i­cal grief. Damn it, of all the times to lose con­trol!

  Fear helped clear some of the fog cloak­ing her brain. Won­der­ing how badly she’d dam­aged her case Jes­sica asked, “Is the vote in yet? What hap­pened?”

  Cla­jak soothed her with shush­ing noises. “Nar­pok ceded the throne to you.”

  “What?” She fought to un­der­stand.

  Be­vau nod­ded. “She with­drew her pe­ti­tion to join our clan just be­fore she had a com­plete emo­tional break­down.”

  Jes­sica still couldn’t com­pre­hend what they were say­ing. “Go slow. A bunch of brain cells are still snooz­ing.”

  They told her about Nar­pok’s sur­pris­ing re­ver­sal and her plea for pro­tec­tion. “The lo­cal branch of Global Se­cu­rity is now try­ing to track down Pwal­dur and Clan Wag­nox. They dis­ap­peared in the con­fu­sion af­ter Nar­pok’s col­lapse,” Be­vau said at the end of the tale.

  Jes­sica was stunned at the news of Nar­pok’s men­tal state. “What do you think hap­pened to her?”

  Cla­jak shook his head, his ex­pres­sion grim. “It’s im­pos­si­ble to tell with­out her be­ing able to an­swer ques­tions.”

  Be­vau’s de­meanor was for­bid­ding. “In­ter­ro­ga­tion might yield re­sults once we have her fa­ther and his friends in cus­tody. Tis­sue sam­ples re­veal she’s been drugged on a reg­u­lar ba­sis for some time.”

  “Drugged?”

  “With a com­pound that in­duces tem­po­rary paral­y­sis.”

  Jes­sica found she could move her limbs a lit­tle. She reached for Cla­jak’s hand, and he en­folded hers in it. “Will Nar­pok re­cover from the break­down?”

  “There’s no way of know­ing that,” Egilka an­swered. “We hope so. There are a lot of ques­tions that need to be an­swered.”

  Cla­jak took up the tale. “It was also dis­cov­ered she’s in­fer­tile, so Imdiko Sty­tyn has to an­swer for fal­si­fy­ing her med­i­cal re­ports. Nar­pok has no claim to be em­press.”

  Un­der­stand­ing dawned on Jes­sica, but she was al­most too afraid to hope. “Are you say­ing—”

  Cla­jak’s grin split his dark face. “You are our of­fi­cial Matara, cur­rent princess, and fu­ture Em­press of Kalquor.”

  Jes­sica screamed for joy. “We’re re­ally safe? Re­ally, truly?”

  “The fight is over, my love,” Egilka con­firmed. Hap­pi­ness suf­fused his usu­ally too-se­ri­ous face. “You’re stuck with us for life, and Cla­jak is stuck with be­ing an em­peror some­day.”

  They all laughed. “It’s not such an over­whelm­ing prospect any­more, es­pe­cially with the Matara of my choice next to me,” Cla­jak snorted.

  “Still, we never would have wished Nar­pok the pain she is in,” Be­vau added. Jes­sica saw anger lurk­ing at the edges of his re­lief. It stole in, eclips­ing the joy of the mo­ment.

  “So the ques­tion of who Kalquor wanted never went to the peo­ple,” she said to di­vert him.

  Egilka grinned. “Ev­ery­thing was so chaotic af­ter the ses­sion that no one thought to can­cel the vote. It went on as planned.”

  Cla­jak echoed the Imdiko’s de­light with a smile of his own. “You won by a large mar­gin, my sweet. Your story of how you saved your­self and your sis­ter was prob­a­bly enough to sway the ma­jor­ity. Nar­pok’s re­ac­tion to Pwal­dur and her col­lapse only added to the vic­tory.”

  Egilka be­came se­ri­ous again. “Jes­sica, Govi wants to help you cope bet­ter with the trauma you suf­fered as a re­sult of the tor­nado. He has an ex­cel­lent record treat­ing our Earth­ers.”

  Jes­sica felt her­self flush with hu­mil­i­a­tion. “Won’t that hurt our stand­ing with the peo­ple? What will they think if their em­press-to-be is so weak that she can’t han­dle a few night­mares?”

  Cla­jak’s gaze was steady on her. “No one would ever per­ceive you as weak af­ter hear­ing your story. You’ve proven your­self to all.”

  “Es­pe­cially us,” Be­vau said. “There’s no rea­son for you to suf­fer through the night­mares any­more. Govi will show you how to over­come them.”

  “Do I get a say in this?” Jes­sica pouted.

  “Only if you agree to it,” Cla­jak said. He kissed her, the em­brace de­mand­ing. Her arms, still fee­ble from the seda­tive, cir­cled his neck limply. He noted her weak grip and mused, “Hav­ing you de­fense­less has its ap­peal. What can I do with this sweet, vul­ner­a­ble body right now?”

  See­ing him hard and ready gave Jes­sica goose­flesh. “Are you big, strong men go­ing to take ad­van­tage of this poor help­less lit­tle girl?”

  “Ab­so­lutely,” Cla­jak said. Be­vau moved aside to let the steel-haired Kalquo­rian cover her body with his own. Jes­sica moaned as he eased him­self into her tight sheath. “My Dramok,” she whis­pered, tast­ing the words now that they were true.

  “My Matara,” he an­swered, thrust­ing against her. His hands cupped her face pos­ses­sively, and he stared into her eyes while he took what was at last right­fully his.

  Jes­sica’s legs wanted to wrap around his waist, but they only twitched in the af­ter­math of the seda­tive. Pow­er­less, she lay be­neath Cla­jak, feel­ing his strength as he worked her to his sat­is­fac­tion.

  “There is noth­ing you can do to stop any of this,” the Dramok whis­pered, his smile dan­ger­ous and his eyes dark. He knew Jes­sica’s de­sire to be dom­i­nated, just as she knew his ea­ger­ness for her sub­mis­sion. “You be­long to me, my sweet. Now and for­ever.”

  “Yes,” she moaned. “Oh yes.”

  Cla­jak leaned back to kneel, his hands grip­ping the backs of her knees. He an­gled her legs up, so that his sex rubbed the sen­si­tive spot that drove her wild. Jes­sica cried out as he drove against her, mer­ci­lessly push­ing her vul­ner­a­ble body to dizzy­ing heights of plea­sure.

  Egilka and Be­vau bent over her, their mouths vo­ra­cious on her flesh. Help­less, she could only shud­der as the men took all they wanted from her.

  Jes­sica couldn’t tell where one or­gasm ended and the next be­gan. Cla­jak gave her no respite. He stroked in and out of her, his thrusts un­err­ingly find­ing the bun­dle of nerves in her sheath over and over. She sobbed in ag­o­nized joy. Her sex clenched at her lover un­til he at last gave him­self over to his own needs, his scream echo­ing off the mir­rored walls.

  “What do you want from her, Egilka?” Be­vau whis­pered once Cla­jak’s re­lease fin­ished and he col­lapsed over her. “She’s yours to do with as you wish.”

  The Imdiko’s teeth flashed in a fierce smile. Jes­sica shiv­ered. “Es­pe­cially since Dr. Flen­cik con­firmed she can han­dle it for a few weeks more. What­ever hap­pened to those man­a­cles we held you with when we clanned you, my Nobek?”

  Be­vau laughed out loud. “I kept them as sou­venirs. Just a mo­ment.”

  He left the room in a blur of move­ment. Cla­jak chuck­led, his breath warm in Jes­sica’s ear. “This will be fun to watch.”

  She shifted slightly un­der him, feel­ing her limbs com­ing back to life. Not that it mat­tered if they shack­led her. She warmed with an­tic­i­pa­tion.

  Be­vau reap­peared, four thick metal cuffs in his hands. De­spite Jes­sica’s lack of re­sis­tance, Cla­jak and Egilka held her as the Nobek snapped them around her wrists and an­kles, ad­just­ing the girth of each so she couldn’t slip out.

  No chains were re­quired. “Man­a­cles, cal­cu­late pris­oner size and el­e­vate two feet from ground, ver­ti­cal X-for­ma­tion.” Egilka’s voice sounded breath­less.

  Jes­sica gasped as the cuffs lev­i­tated, car­ry­ing her with them. A few mo­ments later, she hov­ered up­right over the bed, arms and legs spread ea­gled.

  “Oh shit,” she whis­pered in Eng­lish, tug­ging ex­per­i­men­tally against the shack­les. Nei­ther her arms nor her legs budged.

  Egilka grinned and kneeled be­fore her. His face was level with her sex. “Per­fect,” he growled and shoved his face against her mound.

  Jes­sica moaned as he fed from her. His tongue plunged deep in­side, mas­sag­ing her soft­est flesh with driv­ing thrusts. His hands kneaded her but­tocks with bruis­ing force. She trem­bled to be held open for his at­tack, un­able to de­fend her­self in any way.