Hers To Choose (Verdantia Book 2) Read online

  Hers To

  C H O O S E

  By

  Patricia A. Knight

  Troll River Publications

  Los Angeles, CA

  Hers To Choose

  Verdantia Series Book 2

  Copyright © 2013 Patricia A. Knight

  ISBN: 978-1-939564-13-9

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted, with the exception of a reviewer who may quote passages in a review, without written prior permission from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, events, incidents 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.

  DISCLAIMER: The author and publisher would solemnly advise you not to attempt any of the sexual or non-sexual actions of any of the characters in this book. Any damage physical, mental or emotional is the sole responsibility of the person/persons attempting such actions. Please be aware that this is a work of fiction and you are responsible for yourself and the consequences caused thereof.

  Acknowledgements

  Writing is the product of rich interior life. Imagination fires the mind and fingers capture those elusive wisps of thought and transfer them to paper. But what feeds the fires of imagination? Well, it helps to start by being bat-sh*t crazy. But, in my case, it is an amazing group of authors and critique partners: my sweet “Em” and Travis, lovely Aliya and Stephanie and Kayla. And finally, to my long-suffering lover of many years who lets me sit at the keyboard typing while his dinner burns on the stove. Gotta love a man like that.

  Thank you to Skylar Faith at TruenotDreams for the stunning covers and to Troll River Publications for, well, everything. You are beyond awesome.

  To Dan,

  You are where all my heroes begin.

  Nothing makes sense without you.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  About the author:

  Hers To Cherish

  Prologue

  Isolated, far from the interstellar trade lanes, hundreds of light years from any civilized planet, Verdantia marooned the Earth colonists on her surface—then she spoke to them.

  After decades searching the vast Hyperion Galaxy for a home, after the fierce elation of finding the perfect jewel of a planet, the Nuovo Terrans found themselves stranded on Verdantia. To their consternation, the planet itself interacted with them.

  A genetically select few were able to connect with the planet’s sentience while having sexual intercourse, and thereby tap into and manipulate the enormous energy within the planet. These elite became the aristocracy of Verdantia, the magisters and magistras. Through arduous sexual sacraments known as the Greater and Lesser Rites, these elite enhanced many facets of everyday life, from encouraging crops to grow to heating homes.

  To the space-weary colony settling her surface, the shocking discovery had been their salvation. The energies radiating from Verdantia’s vast underground diaman pipes disrupted technology, rendering it so unreliable as to be useless. The superstitious called it magick. The well-educated recognized a unique combination of electro-magnetism and harmonics guided by a primitive sentience. The green Eden that was Verdantia lived.

  For centuries, descendants of the original, space-faring colonists studied how to harness the enormous forces produced by this sexual congress between the settlers gifted with this ability.

  Of foremost importance to the resource-rich, isolated planet, their sexual energy powered an impenetrable shield protecting the planet from off-world invasion. The energy wall flowed from soaring towers housing diamantorre—highly-charged, crystalline constructs. These strategic stone towers dotted the planet in a grid, their connecting web energized by the Great Rite. Only one area on the planet was devoid of the diaman pipes and not sheltered by the sigil towers—the desert wasteland of the Oshtesh. It was in this isolated pocket of forbidding landscape that the Verdantians built their spaceport.

  In the High Enclave, the stone-walled complex where docenti taught the high-level magicks, elite geneticists, the L’anziano, arranged marriages between highborn houses, to maximize advantageous matings of magickal bloodlines. Centuries of strict breeding by the L’anziano produced the thirty-two noble houses sitting in Verdantia’s House of Lords.

  The widespread revelation of the potent aphrodisiac cinnagin, the extract of a tree unique to the forests of Verdantia, transformed the isolated planet's galactic status from quaintly primitive to the prized crown jewel of the interstellar economy. A mere gram of cinnagin would purchase an inter-stellar yacht on the pleasure planets of Telleria and Vxloncia.

  For a rapacious race of scavengers, slavers and drug runners, Verdantia and the allure of her priceless cinnagin presented an irresistible target. In a well-organized use of vicious, overwhelming force, the Haarb invaded Verdantia through gaps in the energy shield. Brutal torture revealed the secrets powering the diamantorre and the Haarb butchery of the aristocratic magisters and magistras began. At the end of a cruel three years war, the Verdantians re-established the planetary shield and repulsed the Haarb.

  The staggering cost to the Verdantians could be counted in the millions of missing or dead inhabitants. The Haarb had depopulated vast sections of the planet, selling the inhabitants into slavery on the asteroid mines or pleasure planets. The genetic markers, carefully bred into the population for over five hundred years, now resided in only eight bloodlines—and only two women of child-bearing age. The Verdantians stood to lose the only link to their sentient planet.

  And the Haarb were back.

  Chapter One

  Planet Verdantia

  Nuovo Terra solar date: 4372

  Commander of the Queen’s Guard Eric DeStroia tortured the raven–haired courtesan lying beneath him—a surging thrust in, a prolonged, exquisite slide out. With a husky laugh, he hung her on the edge of climax for endless minutes. Eric reveled in her helplessness as he reduced her to abject begging. He enjoyed their “games”. Who would break first?

  Her control finally crashed, swept up by the tsunami of pleasure he created.

  "Please, by all the Gods, Eric, please. Let me come. I can't take any more."

  Smiling wickedly, he rolled them over, letting her ride. "Take your pleasure."

  He clasped her hips and thrust into her deeply. His strong fingers dented her generous buttocks where he held her spiked on his steel-hard cock.

  Inhaling deeply with a low groan, she could not disguise her hunger, her impatience. “Shall I take you with me, lover?”

  “Think you can?” He grunted in amusement and shook his head. “You are too greedy, wench. You can’t wait.”

  Grinding her clit along his pubic bone, she managed several long rolls, the inner flesh of her slick vagina massaging his cock with each undulation. With a groan of effort, he slammed up and held her impaled as his hips circled. Her eyes flared as the surge of pressure against her most sensitive parts swept away her dubious control. Writhing, impaled on his rigid cock, she cried out at the spectacular gratification of a long withheld orgasm. Her inner core contracted violently around him. She came forever. He choked on a grunt and finish
ed. She barely noticed.

  “Arrogant, hateful man,” she muttered, her face buried against his chest. “You might at least pretend to let me win.”

  “I never pretend.”

  Limp, she sprawled across his muscled chest, tracing patterns with a manicured nail. “The rumor is you plan to take a squadron of the Queen’s Guard to bring back DeLorion’s sister from the Oshtesh.”

  She rolled off his chest, slowly disentangling their sweaty, delicate parts and lay on her back, trying to regain her breath. She rolled to her side, petting his broad chest. “Perhaps your arranged bride will look the other way if you are discreet.”

  “No. When—if—I marry, I will be faithful. I watched my father kill my mother’s soul with his philandering. I respect women too greatly to imitate his ways.” He struggled with his anger. “You are a favorite among the courtesans,” Eric said. “Your bed won’t be cold.”

  With a small moue of disappointment, she reached out a forefinger and ran it gently up his semi-hard length glistening with their combined fluids. While his heart remained indifferent to her charms, she could definitely affect a lower organ. She caught her lip between her teeth, delighted when his cock twitched in response.

  “But none like you.” She flashed him a coquettish look and arranged the sheets to cover her small breasts. “You are an outrageously beautiful man, Commander DeStroia, with an extraordinary talent for sex. My body will miss you.”

  Eric grunted. “I note you don’t mention your heart. Come here to me, hussy.”

  He shifted to gather her into his arms, nestling her head across his chest, moving her slender thigh to rest between his. His hands wandered down her body, stroking muscles that were tight and firm, skin that felt like satin. The flesh of her small breast filled his hand. He caught the hard bud of her nipple and rolled it between his thumb and middle finger. He laughed softly at her moan of appreciation and moved over her, kneeing her legs apart and entering her already wet pussy with a gentle glide.

  “Please yourself, lover. I don’t think I can come again.”

  “Hmmm, you can’t?” A wicked smile quirked the corner of his mouth. He kissed her lips, nipping gently. “You know ‘can’t’ is not permitted,” he whispered against her mouth. His eyes narrowed. “I give you my promise. You will.”

  * * *

  The courtesan pulled her elegant silk wrapper close around her. Commander DeStroia had left mere minutes ago and already the door to her sumptuous lodgings swung open. She shrank in apprehensive fear.

  In the month that the Contradina woman had been ‘visiting’ her, she still had not adjusted to the green phosphorescent glow of the woman’s artificial eyes and the hollow, skeletal look of her face. Rumor said Contradina had been a slave to the insectoid Trill—an egg host. The courtesan shuddered at the thought. She knew the freakish creature listened and watched from somewhere close by, but she never knew how much or just what Contradina overheard. It was impossible to lie or deceive her. She bore the bruises from trying.

  “He told you nothing of value, whore. If your sson iss to live, you will have to be more usseful than you’ve been tonight.”

  “Please! I can tell you the numbers of the force and route they will take through the wastelands. Commander DeStroia is not my only military client.”

  Her spectral visitor sneered. Hissing through the blackened, gaping holes in her gums formed by missing teeth, she commanded, “Sshow me and perhaps your sson will live another day.”

  Shaking uncontrollably, the lovely prostitute unrolled a large map onto a cluttered table. “They enter the wastelands through the diaman portal at Silver Grove and take this route to Sh’r Un Kree. DeStroia commands a squadron of thirty-two horse...”

  Chapter Two

  Sophi lay prone. The heat from sunbaked rock permeated her thighs and abdomen through her robes. A hot zephyr tickled fine blond hair across her face to stick in the perspiration dotting her upper lip. Her bow and quiver of arrows pressed into her spine. Tiny pieces of grit dug into her elbows as she steadied her spyglass. From her perch on the arid outcropping of stone, hundreds of feet above the wasteland floor, Sophi watched through the magnified lens as a column of riders drew closer. Four ‘rides’ of horse—a squadron of cavalry totaling thirty-two, with two men riding at the lead. She had been watching their approach for hours. Now they rode close enough to reveal the three crowns on pendants of a familiar purple and gold fluttering from their lances—the purple and gold of Verdantia’s ruling triumvirate, the Tetriarch.

  They come for me. Inhaling the smells of heated earth, she released her breath in a smooth flow, calming her agitated heart. I am no longer Lady Sophillia DeLorion, captive slave of the Haarb. I am a woman of the Oshtesh, a warrior and desert hunter. Memories cannot hurt me. I am strong. I am resilient.

  Verdantia’s empty wasteland drew her, beckoned her to lose herself in its lonely expanse. Where others saw death by thirst and heat, she knew a welcome solitude of severe beauty. The warm, moist breath of Brio, her gelding, wafted around her shoulders as he whuffled companionably between her shoulder blades. “They think to make me return to Sylvan Mintoth, Brio. Fine, they will have to brave the wastelands to find me.”

  Stowing her spyglass in her saddle pack, she shrugged her bow and quiver into a better position on her back and vaulted onto her horse. Turning Brio from the edge of the precipice, she urged him down the narrow, rocky trail leading to the Oshtesh village of Sh’r Un Kree. The wife of the Oshtesh leader rose before her as if conjured out of sand zephyrs, her pristine white robes stirring in a slight eddy of air. Brio rocked back onto his haunches as Sophi checked him.

  "Sophi." Mistress Lyre moved aside the fine veil concealing all but her exotically-slanted brown eyes.

  "Mother Lyre." Sophi slid off her gelding and with loving respect, bowed her head.

  "Do you escape to the desert, child?"

  “Yes, Mother Lyre.” Sophi stood a moment, eyes respectfully downcast, and then looked up at the woman who had offered her sanctuary and love for the past few years.

  Warm eyes in a patrician face held her in a loving gaze. “Your brother sent you a message.” The woman pressed a rolled and sealed scroll into her hand. “I received his letter some time ago. I was to give you this before Commander DeStroia arrived. I have not seen you in days, so I sought you out before you vanished into the wastelands.” Her eyes sparkled with humor.

  The heavy wax seal of the Segundo Signore of the Second Tetriarch broke with the pressure from her thumbs, and she unrolled the missive.

  My beloved sister,

  Mistress Lyre tells me you left the camp housing single women and now live at ease in the mixed company of daily village life. She reports you sleep undisturbed through the night and you laugh again! For this alone, I must love her.

  She holds you dear. She and the Primus have petitioned me for permission to adopt you as a daughter. I have asked her to wait.

  We need you, beloved sister. Our mother planet needs you. Our bloodline must continue. Verdantia’s sentience is real, Sophi. She has spoken to me. The time has come to take your rightful place. The Haarb war decimated our genetic pool. The future of our planet rests on the children we bear you and I and the handful of others who remain.

  I am sending a man to you—a good man. His name is Eric DeStroia. He commands the Queen’s Guard and I know him well. Please consider him, Sophi. The L’anziano want this joining but I will do nothing without your consent.

  If you are willing, Commander DeStroia and an honor guard will escort you back to Sylvan Mintoth. He is aware the L’anziano want the joining of House DeStroia and House DeLorion. I have given him no specifics about you, only that your time as slave of the Haarb has made you reserved with men.

  Please return with him. The trip is a lengthy one. You will have time to observe him. If you cannot tolerate the thought of him as a husband, you may go back to the Oshtesh and the desert which brings you peace. I only ask you try, Sophi. I will not al
low the L’anziano to force you. Come back to us, Sophi. I miss you.

  Your loving brother,

  Doral

  She handed the parchment to Lyre. “My brother asks for my return to our capital.”

  The older woman scanned the page. “Ah, child.” Lyre moved to embrace her and stroked Sophi’s hair away from her face. “My fledgling falcon. Talk with me as we walk back.” Mother Lyre smiled. “Your comfort with men grows as your fighting skills sharpen.”

  “Yes, Mother Lyre. I am no longer helpless.”

  A low burst of laughter escaped the elder. “That you are not! I will not even chastise you for the unseemly pride in your voice.”

  “I beg your indulgence, Mother. When I remember the shrinking, broken creature who first entered your home, I cannot help a sense of accomplishment.” Sophi kicked a stone from her path, sending it skittering off into the air.

  “You are greatly changed, Flight Leader DeLorion.”

  “Mother Lyre, my archers look at me and respect who I am. They do not see me as I was.”

  The older woman hugged her and humor laced her voice. “Be gentle, my fierce falcon. Your transformation will astonish your brother.”

  Sophi straightened. “You speak as if my return to Sylvan Mintoth is decided. Will you and the Primus send me away?”

  “With great reluctance, yes. You must explore your birthright, child. So few pure bloodlines remain in our House of Lords. House DeLorion is one of only a handful to survive. The value of your genetic line to our way of life is too large to be quantified. Only those with your genetic markers can ‘speak’ with our sentient planet. Only those with your genetic markers can survive the massive energy She channels through our bodies during the sacraments of the Lesser and Great Rites.”