Lord Regret's Price: A Jane Austen Space Opera, Book 3 Read online

  Charlotte tried to think of how to convey her understanding without betraying too much of their privacy. “It might be real fear, though, so I’m reluctant to cause more harm. I know he’s been hurt in the past and I would rather die than add my name to the list of women who’ve hurt him.”

  “Which came first, the chicken or the egg?”

  Surprised, she at first dismissed the woman’s illustration as nonsensical, thanks to the cultural divide, but she couldn’t stop thinking about her own changing needs. Had she always tended to be controlling in bed, or had that only come with Sig? Did that need arise naturally with him because it was already there in her? Did it grow only because it’d found fertile ground to explore those needs with Sig and now Gil?

  “Many wrongfully assume that a need for pain or submission in some way arises from a dark, tortured past,” the shopkeeper said. “However, I’ve always wondered how else a person might discover the pleasure in that pain if they’d never been hurt before. It must be especially rare for a gentleman to ask a lady to hurt him, even in Britannia. Besides, who would ask to be hurt if they didn’t know they’d find pleasure in it at the same time?”

  Charlotte’s breathing stilled, her mind running incredibly fast. She’d assumed that whatever Sig had endured before leaving Britannia had been horrible enough to drive him to kill, so she’d been reluctant to dip too deeply into those feelings. But how could Sig ever have known he might enjoy being bound, if he’d never been made helpless in the first place? She’d only discovered his enjoyment by accident, when she’d bound him to the sickbed while he flailed out of his mind with fever. He’d nearly died, but in the process of healing, she’d learned about his secret need. A need to which she’d not only adjusted, but had also come to relish.

  Perhaps he isn’t afraid of me torturing him. But of liking it too much.

  She’d assumed that Sig’s rising anxiety and frustration had to do with their nontraditional lovemaking because he hadn’t requested much beyond basic bondage since Gil had joined them. Perhaps Sig’s upset went even deeper. Perhaps his need was changing, and that frightened him. They’d all been growing weary of their confines on the ship. While luxurious, Oblivion was rather small for three independent adults. They’d certainly been forced to endure only each other’s company for much longer than ever before.

  She couldn’t deny that she was frightened by the growing depths of her need for both men. She’d accidentally committed great wrongs with her scientific research. Her nanobots had been used without her permission or knowledge to completely ravage an entire race. She’d never forgive herself for such atrocities.

  Now she was considering giving pain to a person she loved, simply because she wondered what the flail would feel like in her hand. The strike and recoil in her arm. What sounds he’d make and how she’d respond.

  Guilt choked her, squeezing her throat and chest.

  Gil moved to stand beside her, and she couldn’t meet his gaze. What must he think of me? I never considered how he might react if he discovered I was whipping Sig. He must think me terribly depraved. As if forcing him to share my bed with another man wasn’t enough.

  “What are these for?”

  “They’re rings a man wears on his member,” the shopkeeper replied. “It helps increase his stamina by restricting blood flow.”

  Charlotte risked a quick glance up to see his reaction. The tips of his ears were red, but he didn’t appear appalled. In fact, he couldn’t pull his gaze away from the tray, which melted her doubts away. “Is it painful?”

  “I’ve been told most men enjoy the pressure and sensation of fullness. As his passion rises, the band tightens, restricting blood flow and delaying gratification.” Without his request, the shopkeeper demonstrated the clasp on the silver ring, showing how it could be removed if it became too tight. “We also have rings made with softer materials, like leather and rubber.”

  “No,” he whispered in a low voice. Only slightly roughened, his voice strummed Charlotte’s spine because she recognized his tone. Arousal. “I like this silver one.” It was thicker than the others and slightly larger to accommodate a man of more-than-average size.

  Which suited her sheriff perfectly.

  The shopkeeper inclined her head, her small smile indicating a touch of appreciation. Charlie bit her lip to keep from saying, “You have no idea,” out loud.

  “So we have a flail for the lady and a ring for the gentleman.” The shopkeeper slipped the silver ring into a box and laid it with the wrapped flail. “Might I make one more recommendation?”

  “Please do so.” Charlotte took Gil’s hand and gave him a squeeze. Already her mind had raced ahead to trying out that ring as soon as they returned to the inn. She drew his arm against her breasts and whispered, “Should we get one for Sig?”

  “After the way he reacted…I don’t know.” He flexed his arm against her, letting her revel in the delicious feel of his muscles. “He might want to pick out such a toy himself. Perhaps her recommendation can help.”

  “This recommendation is actually for the lady.” The shopkeeper laid delicate silver chains out on the counter. “If you think a partner might be interested in receiving pain, it’s beneficial for you to have small pain too. It helps ground you in what you’re giving and, honestly, many dominants find it just as enjoyable as the submissive.”

  Charlotte stretched out a finger and moved the chain around on the wood. She’d never thought of herself as dominant, but she supposed she did control the reins when it came to her bedchamber. It wasn’t something she’d necessarily thought about. She’d desired Gil, so she’d taken him to bed. He’d been more than obliging when she’d pushed him flat on his back that first time and ridden him hard. Sig had been different from the beginning, but even then, she hadn’t consciously decided to select a man who enjoyed being bound while she made love to him.

  She’d been attracted to him before she’d learned that little tidbit. Perhaps it’d been titillation in the beginning, but now… She couldn’t imagine not giving him exactly what he wanted, because she wanted it just as much.

  Small clamps at the ends of the chains gave her pause. She didn’t need an illustration to deduce that these metal pincers were designed to clasp even the most delicate of flesh.

  Gil’s arm flexed against her. One of the things she loved most was when he used those big, calloused hands on her breasts, the more ungently the better.

  The shopkeeper might have mistaken her silence for dread. “You can start out very softly with nary a pinch, or slowly increase the pressure with these screws. The chains are like jewelry, so light they won’t interfere with your natural movement, yet also beautiful to accessorize your body. Though I should warn you that loosening the clamps should be done slowly at first. The sensation of blood rushing back into the area can be quite intense.”

  Charlotte could well imagine. If I timed it so that I loosened the clamps right at the moment we were climaxing… Shivering, she clamped his arm tighter to her. “I’ll take it, and I’d like to select a ring for the other gentleman as well. We should all have the chance to…accessorize…if he finds it interesting.”

  After some discussion, she settled on a silver ring for Sig that wasn’t as thick as the other, but which had two smaller metal loops designed to cradle and lift his ballocks. He might not like it at all, but he also couldn’t claim offense that she’d done something for one man and not the other. With the packages tucked under her arm, it was all she could do not to drag Gil back to the inn as quickly as possible.

  Chapter Two

  When Gil Masters had accepted the assignment to act as a small-town sheriff and gain the suspected Lady Wyre’s assistance for Americus, he’d known almost from the beginning that the lady would own his heart. He’d been half in love with her before he’d even seen her, thanks to the incredible tales of her supposed escape from Britannia, despite her attempts to make it look like she’d been assassinated.

  Even the backwoods
colony had heard of her marvelous inventions. She’d had a hand in everything from devising the massive dome that stretched over Londonium, protecting the heart of Britannia from all threats, to improving ship engines so that travel in deep space was reduced to days and weeks rather than years. Her wit and charm were legendary as the once-ruling lady of Society; her intelligence, unbounded.

  Her beauty…

  Well, Gil had to admit that he’d been struck dumb at the first sight of her. Small and seemingly delicate, she’d stirred up all his protective instincts. She might be a foot shorter than him, but explosives came in small, curvy packages. Then he’d begun to see demonstrations of her fiery personality, and he’d known the truth.

  Charlotte needed no man’s protection. Though she might—on occasion—allow it just to appease his need to keep her safe.

  He’d never imagined that he might find himself walking out of a sex toy shop in Zijin with such a beautiful lady smoldering on his arm.

  Despite his happiness, he couldn’t deny the kernel of ugliness in his heart as they walked back toward the inn. The small hope that maybe her other man was gone for good.

  He’d been furiously, terribly afraid for her safety once he’d learned of her association with the galaxy’s infamous assassin, then appalled that she actually loved the man. But then he’d met Sigmund Regret. He’d seen how quickly the man killed to protect her. And he couldn’t fault the man’s deadly skills, not when it came to keeping their beloved out of Queen Majel’s hands.

  He’d be the first to admit that he’d rather be alone with Charlotte. She’d taken care from the beginning to appease them both. He had no cause for jealousy, not really. She never slighted or favored one over the other, even though he sometimes wished…

  I want her heart all to myself.

  Reluctantly, he voiced his concerns. “Do you think Sig will come back?”

  “Of course.” She spared a glance up at him as if surprised at his concerns. “He’s still close, though I don’t see him yet.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I feel him.” She reached up and touched the heart-shaped locket wrapped in gold filigree. Gil didn’t know exactly what it contained—her science was beyond his understanding—but whatever secrets were hidden in that necklace had managed to save both her life and Sig’s before they’d left Americus. The memory was enough to make him haul her closer, fighting the instinct to sweep her into his arms, carry her to the ship and flee to the most remote edges of space he could find. “Ever since I healed him that first time, I’ve been able to sense his nearness. Since…”

  Since she’d almost died. To keep from squeezing her arm too hard with his furious need to keep her safe, he gripped the handle of his six-shooter, hidden beneath his coat.

  “It’s strange,” she mused. “My nanobots lived inside him for seven years, keeping his heart beating. When he gave some of them back to me, it’s like they carried part of him with them.”

  “Like his memories? His thoughts?”

  “No, not at all. It’s more subtle than that. I just…know him. At a bone-deep level. Yet I’m still confounded by him at the same time. There are many things I don’t understand, but I know one thing above all. He won’t fail me.”

  “Do these nanobot things talk to you?”

  She paced alongside him for several steps before she answered. “Yes and no. They don’t speak to me directly, but I regularly download logs to my datapad. I can see what they’re doing and it’s remarkable. What they’ve done for Sig is beyond astounding. They’re not only keeping his damaged heart beating, but they’re also improving his metabolism, building his muscle tone, speed and hand-eye coordination. He was a formidable assassin before the accident that nearly killed him, but now… Gil, he’s like a superhuman.”

  “And you,” he whispered solemnly. “What are they doing to you? What can they do to you? Is it safe?”

  “Most of them returned to Sig. That’s why he’s still alive.” She paused in the middle of the alley, rising up on her toes to see over the surging crowds. “Look, is that a Razari?”

  “Charlotte,” he firmed his voice, trying to draw her attention back to him. “I insist that we discuss these nanobots still inside you. I don’t understand.”

  “Later.” She patted his arm and beamed up at him. “Do you think he’ll speak to me?”

  “Who? Sig?”

  “No, the Razari.” She nibbled on her lip and dropped her gaze. “Britannia did horrible things to them, Gil, thanks to me. They used my research to destroy them. There are so many things I’d hoped to learn from them…”

  “Your nanobots were used to destroy people?” The same ones living inside her now? He clenched his hand harder around the gun, fighting the urge to shake her. He hated not understanding her technology. Not being a part of something she shared with Sig.

  “The nanobots distorted and manipulated their DNA.” She said it casually, so absorbed in trying to decide if she dared approach the alien that she didn’t see how her words affected him. Suddenly queasy, he fought to keep his face smooth even though his stomach ached like Sig had sucker punched him. Manipulating DNA. If they’re doing that inside her…

  Neither she nor Sig might even be human any longer. How could he protect them both from something he couldn’t see and didn’t understand?

  “I must have a word with the Razari. Wait here, Gil.”

  She’d long mourned the loss of the crystal she’d been studying before she’d been forced to flee Britannia. Yet the Razari artifact had been instrumental in her faked assassination. Only as long as her index finger, once the crystal was cracked, it released a chemical reaction powerful enough to melt her carriage and destroy any trace of her missing body. The Razari used them to power their ultrafast engines, but her instincts insisted that was only the beginning of how they used the incredible crystals.

  Pretending interest in the nearby rug shop, she edged closer, studying the alien out of the corner of her eye. Female, she thought, though it was hard to tell. They were humanoid but their skin coloring and larger musculature made it difficult to determine gender. While its clothing wasn’t all that different from what the multitude of humans dominating the market wore, the alien’s skin tone was a dark greenish-brown, the color of brackish swamp water. Long, twisted clumps of hair, wrapped in cord, hung down her back, the same brown-green color as her skin.

  There. Charlotte held her breath and risked another longer peek. The Razari wore a crystal around her neck like a piece of jewelry.

  Why would they wear such a powerful energy source—or weapon—about their necks? Stunned, she forgot to turn away when the alien caught her stare. So many questions rushed through her mind like noisy flocks of birds. Were you there when Britannia attacked? Can you give me a firsthand account of what happened? Have you always worn the crystals…or is that something new that you began only once Queen Majel took an interest in your planet? How can I possibly make you understand that I regret…

  “Britannian,” the alien said the word like a vile curse, curling her lips to reveal wicked, inch-long fangs.

  Charlotte inclined her head and held out her hand. “How do you do?”

  Evidently, she’d managed to knock the alien back on her heels with surprise. Hesitantly, she took Charlotte’s hand, but didn’t give a polite shake and release. She gripped hard, perhaps a show of strength, like men squeezing each other’s hands to see who would flinch first. So Charlotte held just as tightly and didn’t back away. In fact, she stepped closer.

  The alien was nearly as tall as Gil and built just as solidly. She imagined the damage those fangs would do, especially to a vulnerable body part like her throat. Gil was probably beside himself with alarm, but Charlotte couldn’t miss this chance to find out more.

  Keeping her voice low, she cast her gaze around the busy market, searching for anyone who might be too interested in their discussion. “Do you understand me?”

  “Yes. We took care to learn you
r language quickly. Not that it saved us.”

  “Not everyone supports what happened on Razar. In fact, few do.”

  “I don’t believe you.” The alien squeezed harder, drawing Charlotte close enough that her skirts began to be crushed by the other female’s body. “No one stopped the attack, not before, not after.”

  “No one could. The Queen is not a woman to be trifled with.” To be fair to Majel, she hadn’t approved the attack on Razar in the first place, but Charlotte wasn’t prepared to leak that information. Not yet. It was one sure way to confirm that Lady Wyre—Queen’s confidante and the only lady who could possibly know that MIGS was violating the Queen’s orders—was still alive. She risked pushing with a question. “Were you there when the attack came?”

  The alien let out a low, vibrating hiss that sent shards of ice slicing down Charlotte’s spine. “Yes.”

  “Please, tell me what happened. I need a first-person account.”

  “Our technicians think they somehow uploaded a virus to our main system that infected our replicators. The virus…” The alien narrowed her eyes, hesitating, as if reluctant to say anything more.

  “Please, I must know,” Charlotte whispered furiously. “I’m one of the few people who might be able to help.”

  “Help?” The alien made a rough sound that might have been a laugh. “How can you help when our planet has been nearly destroyed? When only a handful of us survive intact? Our people have been enslaved and none of you care. Our planet has been raped for the great Britannia’s coffers. Our children…” She made another raw growl of pain. “We’ve been irreparably changed.”