Codename Courtesan Autumn Read online

  “Ready?” She gave a shaky nod and he stood. The position was as close to tolerable as they’d found, and he moved immediately toward the doorway. He gingerly cupped her ass, his hands lightly supporting. “What’s your name?”

  “Autumn. And yours?”

  He chuckled, his stride lengthening. “General Ra’jen Noirte, but you can call me ‘sir’.”

  Chapter Two

  Ra’jen felt the girl tense against him. At least she recognized his name. If she hadn’t been wounded, he would have released her and sent her back to the embassy. But vicious welts crisscrossed her slender back, the skin broken and oozing. He was relieved one of his men hadn’t done this to her, though the fact didn’t diminish her obvious pain.

  “So you run this base, or do you have several under your command?”

  Okay, maybe she hadn’t recognized his name. Silly fledgling. He leaned in, allowing her hair to brush against his cheek. “I command them all,” he whispered. He supported her with one hand while he scanned open the door to his quarters. His movement triggered the lights, and the door locked behind him. Crossing the small living area, he went into the adjoining bedroom. “Do you need to kneel or can you sit? The bed is relatively soft.”

  “Just set me down and I’ll figure it out.” Her voice was tight and unsteady, her delicate features revealing her discomfort. He carefully put her on the bed and stepped back as she let go. As soon as her entire weight rested on her ass she groaned. “I think I’ll stand.” She pushed to her feet, but her legs wobbled beneath her.

  “I’m going to touch you, so don’t panic. I won’t hurt you.” Why was he explaining himself to an ambassador? He never explained himself to anyone. People obeyed his directives without question or complaint. So what was different about this girl? No, she wasn’t a girl; vulnerable and helpless, yes, but she was definitely a woman.

  He grasped the back of her neck with one hand, ensuring she didn’t jerk away. Then he curved his fingers over her shoulder and slid his hand slowly downward, pushing energy into her body as he went. He wasn’t familiar enough with her physiology to actually mend the damage. Instead, he inundated her cells with energy, accelerating their ability to recover. Her skin warmed beneath his palm, and she shifted restlessly.

  “Don’t move.” He didn’t temper the command, couldn’t split his focus.

  She immediately stilled, and he covered her right breast, trying to ignore how perfectly the soft globe fit his palm. Her nipple hardened, and she shivered. Both reactions were common, and the longer he lingered the more he wanted to squeeze. He moved his hand to her other breast, frustrated by the distraction. They were breasts, for Creator’s sake. He’d seen breasts before, touched them and suckled them. This should not be diverting his attention.

  The discoloration faded, leaving perfect, milk white skin, crowned with tight red nipples. Nipples his thumb longed to stroke and his tongue wanted to tease. He forced his gaze away from her breasts and swept his hand lower. Her abdomen quivered as the heat intensified.

  Carnal hunger joined the healing warmth and his cock hardened, expanding painfully within the confines of his armor. Why was he reacting this way? Healing fire had never turned him on before.

  Perhaps it had nothing to do with his task. Maybe he just wanted to bury himself inside her and fuck until they both lost track of reality.

  He healed her abdomen then returned his gaze to her face. She stared at him with an intriguing combination of fear and wonder.

  “You look like a warrior elf. I should have realized you could heal.”

  “A warrior elf?” He smiled, charmed by her unexpected candor.

  “All you need is pointed ears.”

  He turned his head, displaying the rounded shape of his ear. “Sorry to disappoint you. Lie down.”

  She crawled onto his bed, the only woman he’d ever allowed there, and turned her face toward him, resting her cheek on her folded arms. Her body was long-limbed and softly curved, her hair a riot of dark red curls. Autumn, indeed. Every color of a harvest sunset had been captured in those silken strands.

  Unlatching his armor as he crossed the room, he opened the chest plate and pulled his arms out of the sleeves. Then he hung the top half of his armor on the metal stand in the corner. He left his boots on and removed the leg encasements, snapping them around the lower section of the stand.

  He rolled his shoulders, enjoying the cool air as it wafted across his overheated body. Formfitting, yet flexible, the garments he wore beneath his armor were designed to protect his skin without limiting his range of motion. Would she notice his erection, or was she too distracted by her pain?

  “Where have you been that you needed armor?”

  He glanced at his guest and a long strand of his hair swooshed across his face. He finger-combed it back, not taking time to rework his queue. “I’m the military head of the Protectorate. I seldom leave this room without armor.”

  “That many people want you dead?” There was no malice in her question or in her sky blue eyes.

  “Advancement within the Protectorate often involves assassination.”

  “If you’re head honcho, can’t you change that fact?”

  He wasn’t sure why her question annoyed him, but he bristled anyway. “Shall we talk politics, or would you like me to heal your back?”

  “Sorry. The trainers warned me not to ask too many questions.” She turned her head, resting her chin on her arms as she gazed straight ahead.

  Regretting his hasty words, he crossed to the bed and sat. She inhaled sharply then blew out her breath in a slow, steady hiss. “I must touch you again. It can’t be helped.”

  She nodded, but didn’t make a sound.

  He started with the backs of her thighs and worked his way up her body. Her ass cheeks healed quickly, but his fingers lingered, savoring the velvety texture of her skin. “Was this really your first assignment?” His gaze focused on the black lace protecting her folds. He wanted to stroke her, push his fingers inside her, and feel her come. It had been years since… No, he couldn’t remember ever wanting a woman this badly.

  “I just completed training.”

  Moving his hands to the small of her back, he ignored the possessive hunger building within him. He shouldn’t care that her career as a prostitute had not yet begun. It made no difference to him if she’d fucked half the men on this planet. She flinched and whimpered as he paused over an especially deep laceration. He lightened the pressure of his hand, but increased the flow of energy.

  “What made you decide to join an embassy?” She needed a distraction from the pain, and he needed to think about something other than her soft, supple body.

  She scoffed. “Like any of us has a choice. I was cycled out of the training camp three months ago, so it was one of the Atlantic refineries, a breeding lab, or one of the embassies. Which would you have chosen?”

  “A refinery,” he muttered, using both hands on her back.

  “Because ambassadors are whores?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to. Men are so quick to criticize us, but the embassies would go out of business if it weren’t for their customers. There were more men in that room tonight than women. Are you going to try and convince me you’ve never fucked an ambassador?”

  He hadn’t, but he didn’t argue. The absence of pain would either unleash a burst of energy, or make her sleepy. Judging from her stillness, he’d bet on sleepy. He swept his hands from her shoulders to her waist over and over until the last mark faded from her skin.

  She didn’t stir when he stood and walked into the bathroom and only murmured when he wiped the smears of blood from her skin. She was right. He had no reason to label her a whore when he was responsible for her dire circumstances.

  Tossing the soiled washcloth into the sink, he left her sleeping in his bed and headed toward the cluster of offices across from the briefing room. The entire building was unusually quiet which didn’t surprise him.
He’d returned two days early and caught his men with their pants down, literally.

  It was not that he begrudged them the pleasure, but ambassadors were not allowed on base. The men were supposed to fulfill their needs during their free time and at one of the embassies.

  After a perfunctory knock, he pushed open the door to Ethan Dorsey’s office. The guilt in his lieutenant’s dark gaze made it obvious he’d participated in the fuck-fest. “Who made the arrangements and who footed the bill?”

  “Beta Team brought in their quota ahead of schedule and under budget.”

  “I didn’t ask why. I asked who.”

  Ethan leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Ulrick Brant.”

  “Bastard. He never misses an opportunity to undermine me.” Without further discussion, Ra’jen left the office and headed for the civilian side of the complex.

  * * *

  A faint beeping drew Autumn back to awareness. She rolled onto her back and sighed. No hint of discomfort remained after her warrior elf healed her. In fact she felt surprisingly rested. With a light tap, she activated the tiny transceiver snuggled in her ear canal. “Autumn here, go ahead.”

  “Where are you? Are you all right?” Celinna’s worried tone burned away the last of her lethargy.

  “I’m fine, now. Rebecca modified the velvet whip then left me there bound and gagged when everyone took off.”

  “I sent the shuttle back for you as soon as the others arrived. He’s still outside the gate. Get your ass out there.”

  “I’m not sure I can.” She crawled off the bed and tried the door. “No, it’s locked.”

  “Where are you?” she asked again.

  Celinna was the head trainer, second only to Madam Belietta. Would they be angry or thrilled with her predicament? There was only one way to find out. “I’m in General Noirte’s quarters.”

  “Oh my God. Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. He’s been frighteningly civil.”

  “Did he fuck you?” Belietta’s sharp voice came across the link. The madam was always direct and focused on the bottom line. Profits.

  “Not yet.” She looked around the living area. Everything was neat and organized, but there was no sign of the general.

  “Is he with you now?” Celinna asked.

  “Obviously not or she wouldn’t be talking to us,” Belietta pointed out with characteristic impatience. “You give him whatever he wants for as long as he wants it. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, but what if he won’t tell me what he wants?” She closed her eyes and fought back the chilling dread that always accompanied thoughts of her first customer. Even as attractive as she found Ra’jen, she wasn’t sure she could fuck him for money. She had no choice. Pleasuring members of the Protectorate ensured her safety and survival. “Who does he usually request? Do you have any idea what he likes?”

  “That’s just it,” Belietta muttered. “You’re the only girl he’s ever shown any interest in. His men assure me he’s not gay, but he won’t touch any of the ambassadors.”

  “Until now.” Autumn could hear the smile in Celinna’s voice. Celinna had taken a special interest in Autumn, had insisted she had that unique quality that would attract their wealthiest customers. Belietta had reluctantly allowed Autumn to participate in the fuck-fest, but she intended to charge her first real customer an exorbitant fee.

  Autumn sat on the edge of the sofa, remembering the feel of Ra’jen’s strong hands running over her body. “He hasn’t actually shown an interest in me. He brought me here to heal me. Rebecca did a real number on my back.”

  “We’ll take care of Rebecca,” Celinna assured. “You take care of General Noirte.”

  “This is an amazing opportunity,” Belietta stressed. “Do you understand how important this is?”

  “Yes, mistress.” What she didn’t understand was what Belietta expected her to do if the general continued to be gallant. She couldn’t make him desire her. Could she?

  “You know what happens to those who disappoint me. I would much rather reward you for an astonishing success.”

  The connection terminated, and Autumn leaned back, shivering as the cool leather pressed against her skin. She understood the inferred threat. Belietta rewarded those who made her lots of money and withheld the compound from those who disappointed her. Without regular doses of the compound, withdrawal was inevitable. Violent cramps and debilitating tremors, then hallucinations and endless bouts of vomiting. No one survived withdrawal. The only variable was how long it took a person to die.

  Human chemists had tried to replicate the compound for years, ever since addiction was used to control the workforce. But the compound was synthesized from an alien element that wasn’t found on Earth. Or any of the other planets the Gathosians had pillaged if the rumors were accurate.

  Even reluctant members of the Protectorate were addicted to the vile compound. The Gathosians found the strategy so effective they saw no reason to expand their repertoire.

  Autumn drew her legs up to her chest and rested her forehead on her knees. She had to think, had to find a way to seduce the most powerful man in the Protectorate. Yeah, no pressure there.

  Blatant seduction was too obvious. He’d made his opinion of ambassadors crystal clear. He was a soldier, a warrior elf. The description made her smile. With rebellious strands of his waist-length hair streaming around his shoulders, the title had been even more fitting.

  Her imagination grasped the detail and wove it into an incredibly vivid image. She saw herself on his bed, legs spread to accommodate his hips. He entwined their fingers and pinned her hands to the bed as he pushed his cock deep inside her. His hair created a curtain around them, then pooled on their hands, the silky strands caressing her fingers.

  The image was certainly tempting, but how did she make it happen?

  Chapter Three

  Silencing Brant’s attaché with a scathing glare, Ra’jen threw open the office door and strode inside. “If you ever countermand my orders again I will --”

  “You’ll what?” Ulrick Brant minimized the holographic image suspended above his desk and turned toward Ra’jen. “My position is equal to yours, and the Gathosians need us both, so stop snarling at me.”

  “That doesn’t excuse your flagrant disregard for my policies.” Like all Valtorians, Brant was a study in contrasts. His hair was rich amber, while his eyes were black as pitch. He appeared suave and sophisticated in his custom business suit, yet danger rippled beneath the professional façade. When provoked, Valtorians became savage and ruthless.

  “You weren’t expected back until Monday.” Brant accentuated the point with a casual shrug, and Ra’jen balled his hands into fists.

  “Again, that’s no excuse. My men know ambassadors are not allowed on base. The rules apply whether I’m there to supervise or not.”

  “Our men work damn hard and deserved a reward.”

  The way Brant stressed the word “our” caused Ra’jen’s hands to clench even tighter. “I do not disagree with the concept. I am frustrated by the execution.”

  “Belietta already had a large party booked at the embassy.”

  “Then you should have waited for her next available opening.”

  “It’s ridiculous for you to be this angry about such a small detail.”

  Brant’s lackadaisical attitude often clashed with Ra’jen’s regimented concept of life, but Brant was right about one thing. This argument was pointless. “If the fuck-fest was no big deal, why didn’t you hold it in one of your conference rooms?”

  “Did they trash the place and smash the furniture? Why are you so pissed off?”

  “I expect my orders to be followed. When the men are on base, they are under my authority. What they do when they are under your command is between them and you.”

  “I get it.” He folded his hands on his desktop, looking anything but contrite. “Sorry I stepped on your toes. It won’t happen again.”

  Knowing that was as c
lose as they were likely to come to consensus, Ra’jen nodded and left Brent’s office. The Gathosian power structure was ineffective and frustrating, but they didn’t ask his input on how to organize the Protectorate. The civilian division was supposed to balance the aggression of the military division, and the military division was designed to curtail the bureaucracy of the civilians. More often than not, having two equal departments simply created internal conflict and distracted from the ultimate goals.

  The night was cool and cloudy. He walked across the greenbelt separating the civilian section of the complex from the military, savoring the brisk breeze on his face. Autumn was waiting for him. Was she still asleep in his bed, or was she pawing through his possessions? She hadn’t been imprinted, so she wouldn’t be able to activate the access terminal.

  Security to General Noirte. The com-implant embedded behind his right ear vibrated subtly and then his brain translated the silent signal, recreating the voice inside his mind.

  Noirte here, go ahead.

  We detected a transmission emanating from your quarters. The content might interest you.

  Each time he left his quarters continual surveillance was triggered. Who had the lovely little ambassador contacted? Patch it through.

  Copy.

  Autumn’s conversation with the women at the embassy played inside his mind. He was annoyed at first, then angered by their cavalier attitude. Unless he’d completely misjudged her, Autumn lacked the deceitful nature of a true seductress. They’d set her up for failure whether they realized it or not.

  He hesitated outside his quarters, debating how to proceed. Should he let her attempt to seduce him? She would be humiliated when she failed. Worse, she would be in danger. He hadn’t missed the threat in the madam’s tone. If Autumn returned without a hefty transfer of credits, she would be punished severely. Which left them at a perilous impasse because he didn’t pay for sex, never had and never would.