Sirens Call Read online

  SIREN’S CALL

  By

  Cassandra Kane

  © copyright March 2007, Cassandra Kane

  Cover art by Jenny Dixon, © copyright March 2007

  New Concepts Publishing

  Lake Park, GA 31636

  www.newconceptspublishing.com

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

  Chapter One

  He’s here! Wake up!

  Alarija woke, her eyes snapping open in terror as the voice shouted inside her head. Heart pounding, she sat up and looked about her darkened chamber for Marsalir, her bodyguard. In the last weeks he’d slept on a mattress just outside her room and she’d been able to see the outline of his form in the candlelight, a soothing presence. But now the doorway leading to the corridor was dark, the candle-holders unlit and unattended. She remembered that he’d gone the day before, evacuated with the last of the Council in the last shuttle leaving for the Universal Alliance starship. He’d protested all the way, but he’d gone and left her all the same.

  She expelled her caught breath and thought about the voice that had woken her. It hadn’t been the usual whispering from The Master. It was distinct and different, a woman’s voice. It may have been Tal’an, the Goddess, only the voice was more familiar than that. For a moment Alarija wondered if it had been a futurecast, a warning from her future self to her present self.

  But a futurecast was impossible. For her, there was no future.

  Pink fingers of light from the encroaching dawn began to filter into the room. Unable to return to sleep, Alarija rose from her bed and padded across the white marble floors and through the open wood-carved doors to the terrace outside. She leaned her hands on the balustrade and took a deep breath of the crisp morning air. A light breeze lifted her dark hair, drying the sweat at the back of her neck, blowing caressingly over her naked body. She shivered as her nipples sprang to attention.

  Attention was what they longed for, Alarija thought as she brushed her hand over the hard nubs. Although Marsalir had been gone a day, she thought about him constantly. He had been her bodyguard and had been chosen to protect her, to serve her. He’d done that--and more.

  A stabbing heat still sprang between her thighs at the mere thought of his hot tongue between them. How well they’d kept it hidden from The Elders. Marsalir had been considered safe, literally unable to de-flower her, because of the ritual removal of his manhood. They’d never thought of the eunuch’s other attributes and his willingness to use them for her exclusive pleasure.

  She closed her eyes and imagined Marsalir’s tongue on her breasts the last time they had been together. It had been here, on this terrace, overlooking the vast ocean of Zalaban. It had been high tide and waves of warm water had leaked through the balustrade and washed over the marble floors, swirling around their ankles.

  * * * *

  Marsalir had been distraught that The Elders had finally told him to leave.

  “I will not leave you, Mistress,” he had said, staring at her with unabashed longing. “They cannot make me leave you.”

  “They can and they will.” She was weary. “You knew this when you came here.”

  “But to leave you here, all alone on Zalaban.” He swept his hand back to indicate the great expanse of the ocean that surrounded them.

  “That was always my destiny.”

  Why had she sounded so self-assured, so confident? Only because she had never been able to imagine the reality of it. She had never been alone, not truly alone. There had always been servants, courtiers, the daily visits of The Elders, the endless Zalaban Council meetings. And, in the privacy of her chamber, Marsalir.

  “They’ll come for you soon,” she said softly. “The United Alliance ships have already arrived.”

  “I won’t go, Mistress,” Marsalir said wildly. “My duty is to stay with you.”

  “Your duty is to do as you’re told,” she said harshly.

  He stared at her in surprise. Alarija knew that if he was not prepared to abide by The Law then she had to. She had to be firm with him because that was her duty. To be the last person on Zalaban, a sacrifice to The Sacred Eye above.

  Marsalir crossed his arms over his bare chest and bowed his head, acknowledging her authority. Alarija looked at his powerful biceps, the play of muscles over his chest and abdomen, which was already beginning to thicken. He’d go soft soon, she thought with an internal sigh. An inevitable side-effect of the emasculation. He’d offered himself for the process, for the honour of serving her. Now she wanted him to have that honour for the last time.

  “Look at me, Marsalir,” she said softly. “Look at me and pleasure me.”

  As he raised his head, Alarija concentrated until a shimmer of energy swept over her body. Guided by her mind, she felt the jewelled belt at her waist unclasp itself and fall to the floor. She willed the flimsy pieces of her tunic to slide over her shoulders. They slithered down the length of her body and lay in a silken pool at her feet. She stood before him, voluptuously naked, basking in the glow of Marsalir’s unmistakable desire.

  “You’re so beautiful, Mistress,” Marsalir groaned. He reached out for her, placing his large, warm palms over her generous breasts. Alarija held her breath as his thumbs moved restlessly over her hardening nipples, stoking a slow heat at her core. He bent his dark head, his tongue taking the place of his thumbs, suckling at one pink nipple and then other while his hands stroked down over her waist, over her hips.

  She gasped as his hand trailed along her hips and between her thighs, parting the folds of her cunt. He slid his finger inside, penetrating smoothly at her wet readiness to receive him. Two fingers and then three wedged themselves inside her and began to pump and gyrate inside her. She moaned and spread her legs wide as she felt herself filled, as his thumb flicked and circled her hot center. While his teeth scraped against her nipples and pulled hungrily at the swollen tips, he attempted to wriggle a fourth finger inside her.

  She stiffened. “No, Marsalir,” she panted. “You mustn’t break me. I must remain a virgin.”

  “If only I could fuck you,” he’d growled, withdrawing the last finger. “I’d make you mine, Mistress. Truly mine.”

  “If you could, you would never have gotten this far,” she gasped as his thumb worked over her clitoris and she felt the climax rising. “Use your tongue, Marsalir. Fuck me with your tongue.”

  He grasped her full buttocks in his hands and lifted her, stepped up to the wall of the terrace and set her down. She leant back against the cool marble as Marsalir fell to his knees before her. The eunuch buried his face between her thighs, his tongue caressing the folds of her cunt. Alarija hooked a leg over his broad shoulder, opening herself to him, and gasped as his tongue thrust inside her.

  She stared up at the Sacred Eye which burned like a flaming torch in the green sky, her hands fisted in his hair, holding on to him as he clasped his hands around her buttocks, squeezing her closer. He lapped at her hungrily, teeth scraping across her swollen nub, tongue pumping ceaselessly inside her. She pressed her hips into his face uncontrollably, crying out as waves of ecstasy rose, crested, and rolled over her with shuddering intensity.

  He’d licked the overflowing juices from inside her, then sat back on his heels and eyed her tenderly.

  A few hours later he was gone.

  * * * *

  Remembering Marsalir’s mouth, Alarija moaned now as she tweaked at her nipples. She felt between her legs, parting the slick folds of her pussy, and slid her finger over her swollen bud. She rubbed hard and fast, aching for the release from her restlessness, yearning for Marsalir’s ready tongue.
She cried out as the orgasm shuddered through her. It was over quickly and she sobbed as the last vestiges of pleasure abandoned her. She had never felt so alone.

  You’ll weaken yourself, little one, the voice whispered in her head.

  “I don’t care,” she said as the tears spilled over her cheeks. “I’m not dead yet.”

  Your time will come soon, the voice whispered. We wait for it. We need you to be pure and strong.

  She looked out over the ocean. In the far distance among the restless waves, a great beast surfaced. His unimaginable mass bobbed in the water as a long neck rose up like a great snake. Alarija felt the black eyes of the beast glaring at her across the distance. Then he let out a hoarse, echoing cry before the head dove beneath the waves, followed by his huge bulk.

  Alarija noted the blue stripe down his sleek back. It was Orogo, the Grand Master himself. As he plunged below the waves, he flipped his long tail at her dismissively before sliding into the dark ocean depths.

  She had been warned, Alarija thought, shivering. She stared at the bubbling water where Orogo had disappeared. If he had shown himself to her after so many years, it could only be a warning that she could no longer disperse her sexual energy. The time was too close. Fear gripped her and her hands began to shake.

  “Control,” Alarija whispered.

  She stepped back and summoned the power, curling her arms up before her to draw it to her. A large wave rose from the ocean, jetted up over her balustrade, twisted up in the air and fell in a hard shower. She gasped as the cold water slapped down over her, instantly cooling her heated body.

  “Tal’an, save me,” she whispered, pushing back her dripping hair as she stared up at the Sacred Eye which burned ever larger in the sky.

  In the same sky, hovering high up in the atmosphere, she could also see the metallic expanse of the last United Alliance starship making ready to leave. A week ago the sky had been filled with starships hovering over the blue oceans of Zalaban, like gulls over flotsam. Shuttles had zoomed back and forth from the starships to the small landmasses scattered over Zalaban, aiding in the mass exodus, saving its citizens and abandoning the planet to its destruction beneath the impact of the Sacred Eye.

  Alarija prayed beneath her breath, but she wasn’t really sure if she was praying to the Goddess or to the last starship.

  * * * *

  “It’s done, Captain,” Commander Sorovski said with a brief salute.

  Captain Gerano Lasalle glanced at him. “At ease, Commander. We’re alone.”

  Sorovski let his stiff shoulders slouch as he leaned on the railing of the viewing platform next to Gerry. The captain was wearing the Special Forces full dress uniform, his bearing powerful in the high-buttoned collar of the short jacket that emphasized his broad shoulders and drew attention to long legs and lean hips. Though Sorovski was wearing a similar uniform with the insignia of his rank, his shorter, stockier build could never make him look as authoritative as the Captain. Of course, Gerry’s dark good looks went a long way. More than a couple of the female crew fairly were plainly trying to seduce him, though the Captain seemed entirely oblivious to their ploys.

  Sorovski turned his attention to the teaming mass of humanity invading the cavernous cargo hold of the starship Lucero six stories below. Thousands of men, women, and children were swarming through the procedure for the assignment of living quarters.

  “We’ve got ‘em all, Gerry,” Sorovski told him. “Every last one of ‘em.”

  Gerry lifted an eyebrow. “You sure?”

  Sorovski grinned. “Now Gerry, do you doubt my word?”

  Gerry smiled. “I’d never doubt you, Soro. You can’t doubt the man who saved your life.”

  “Aw, you’ll make me blush.”

  Nevertheless, Gerry knew Sorovski was pleased by the comment. They’d met in boot camp fresh out of school, though Gerry had risen quickly through the ranks of Universal Alliance Special Forces and left his companion behind. When Sorovski had been assigned to the Lucero, they’d been forced to keep the appearance of deference to rank when in public, but they’d gone drinking and brawling together too often in their youth to keep it up in private. They knew each other far too well for that. Soro had, after all, saved him from a knifing in a dark alley after one of their drinking sprees when they were fresh graduates.

  “We evacuated a whole planet.” Soro shook his head in awe as he watched the confused crowd below them. “It boggles the mind if you really stop and think about it.”

  Gerry had been unable to think about anything else for the last three months since receiving the directive to evacuate Zalaban. Thirty-two starships were already carrying over 19 million people for re-settlement on various rim planets. The Lucero was the last, assigned to stay till the last minute to pick up even the most stubborn stragglers and to remove them by force if necessary.

  The newly elected UA Committee wanted their reputation untarnished by the disaster affecting Zalaban, for despite its miniscule population the planet was a powerful Committee member. They had to be powerful to have had all seventy-three members representing each of the civilized worlds in the Universal Alliance putting their various differences aside and agreeing unanimously to help with the evacuation.

  Or it had been. In a few days Zalaban would cease to exist, smashed by the giant asteroid poised to strike the center of the water-logged world.

  “We saved the humans and nothing more,” Gerry said softly. “There’s millions of native species living underwater that will be extinct in three days. Zalaban is nine-tenths ocean.”

  “Yeah, but we can’t bring a bunch of whales on a starship.” Soro shrugged. “We can’t save everything.”

  Gerry’s face clouded as he involuntarily thought of Lara, his wife, dead these last ten years. Their marriage had been brief and her face was beginning to fade in his memory, a fact that frustrated him if let himself dwell on it too often.

  Soro’s expression changed to one of mortification as he realised what he’d said. “Ger, I didn’t mean your wife … er …”

  “Lara.” Gerry smiled grimly. “Don’t worry about it, Soro. You never knew her, and it’s all in the past anyway.”

  “Don’t mean I don’t care.” Soro was embarrassed. “Me and my big mouth.”

  He’d heard that Lara had died in an explosion, which had decimated the experimental lab orbiting Earth where she’d been assigned as lead biologist. She’d tried to save some of her lab animals during evacuation and never made it to the shuttle. He didn’t think Gerry and she had been married a year. Gerry had been on a Special Forces mission. From all accounts, they hadn’t spent more than a couple of months together since their wedding day.

  Gerry still talked about her when he got drunk, which wasn’t often nowadays considering his rank and responsibilities. He talked about how he should have been able to save her, even though he’d been half way across the galaxy when it happened. Guilt was a powerful thing. He could see it written all over Gerry’s face. It was the reason no woman ever had a chance with him.

  “Listen, Ger, we’re saving the population of a whole fucking planet,” Soro reminded him, his voice sounding a little more earnest than intended. “Don’t forget that. That counts for something.”

  “That counts for a lot, Commander,” Gerry said briskly.

  As though someone had pushed a light switch, Sorovski stood to attention at the Captain’s formal tone. He glanced around and saw a Special Forces groundsman in blue uniform running along the cargo hold’s viewing platform towards them. The guardsman skidded to a stop before them and gave a quick salute.

  “Captain,” he said breathlessly, “we have a situation.”

  “Report.”

  “One of the evacuees tried to commandeer a shuttle, sir. We managed to restrain him. He’s in custody.”

  “That’s suicidal. Why would he do that?”

  “Sir, he says there’s somebody still down there.”

  Gerry turned to Soro, frowning. “Comman
der, you said we had everyone.”

  Sorovski’s face had turned red. “As far as I know, Captain, we had.”

  “Who is this person?” Gerry asked the guardsman.

  “H-h-he came on the shuttle with the Zalaban Elders, sir,” the young soldier stammered, face turning pink at Gerry’s thunderous expression.

  “Bring him to my quarters. Now, soldier!”

  The guardsman ran off down the viewing platform.

  “I’m sorry, Ger. As far as I knew--“

  “You’d better come, too,” Gerry interrupted, scowling. “If we left someone down there we better make damn sure we get them. This operation isn’t complete until we have every damn Zalaban citizen on board. Every last one, Commander.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  Sorovski hurried after Gerry as he strode away. Sometimes Gerry’s job came before friendship. It had made him the captain of a starship, but he figured that it had to make for a lonely life. The worse part about it was that he knew Gerry preferred it that way.

  Chapter Two

  Gerry sat ramrod straight in his leather chair, his hands resting on his perspex desk. He sensed Sorovski nervously shifting his feet as he stood to Gerry’s right. He felt a moment of remorse at having barked at him, but he quashed that emotion ruthlessly. There was no room for weakness when lives were at stake. He’d learned that a long time ago when Lara had died stupidly and needlessly.

  The doors to his office opened and two Special Forces guardsmen escorted a man inside, his hands cuffed before him. The prisoner towered more than a head over both guards, who were both well over six feet tall. He wore a leather jerkin that revealed the bulging muscles in his massive shoulders and arms. Baggy, pleated trousers fell in soft folders over his trunk-like legs and were stuffed into calf-length red boots with wide, pointed toes. He didn’t have the look of a typical Zalabanese, who were a small and sprightly people with a tendency towards fairness. This man was swarthy, with thick waving hair that fell to his shoulders, a large hard-planed face which could be defined as handsome, and black eyes under thick brows.