The Thief Of Mardu Part 1

THE THIEF OF MARDU.

By Marie Harte.

Chapter One.

Catam of Mardu rolled his eyes and wondered for the fifth time that morning if a person could actually die of boredom.

"I'm not goin' to Jintak and you can't make me!" Rantak Borsham's breath lingered in the air like a cloud of poison, the noxious fumes fouler than the offal lying in the alleyway beside the bar.

"I can't, hmm?" Catam's unconcerned reply further enraged the wanted murderer, causing Rantak to froth at the mouth, literally.

"You shouldn't aggravate him, Catam." Nu Fas shook his head.

Rantak, now armed with a knife, shouted obscenities, drawing attention to himself and the three men intent on capturing him.

"You really shouldn't have," Set, Nu's brother, agreed. "You know Captain Mara specifically ordered us to pick Borsham up quietly."

Several barbarians painted for war and wearing wicked swords joined the quarrel, raising questions Catam and the Fas brothers didn't want to answer, not with so many hostile gazes now centered on them.

In Kweg's Bar, authority and law were the exception to the rule. Unfortunately, to collect the hefty bounty on Rantak's murdering hide, Catam and his crewmates had no choice but to enter the eastern province's most dangerous drinking establishment.

"I asked you a question, drun." One man sneered and waved his sword in Catam's face.

A tingle of antic.i.p.ation feathered Catam's belly and he smiled eagerly, relieved to finally feel something. His grin widened when he noted the confusion darkening his adversary's face.

"Nu, Set, grab Rantak while I take care of this idiot and his friends." He nodded to the four barbarians frowning ferociously. From the distinct set of their bushy brows and light colored hair, he guessed them to be some type of relation to Rantak. Perfect.

Nu shook his head and Set sighed, but since Mara had ordered them to behave, they did so. Nu grabbed Rantak and disarmed him with ease, then nodded to his brother and disappeared with Rantak in tow, courtesy of Captain Mara's new teleporter.

Set leaned against the bar and crossed his ma.s.sive arms over his chest. "I'll wait here until you're through."

Catam's opponents eyed Set warily. No one openly challenged a citizen of Ragga--a planet that bore men with inhuman strength--with hopes of winning. When his opponents realized Set had no intention of interfering, they grunted with satisfaction.

"When we're done I might just take that pretty face and mess it up nice and proper," one of the men growled at Catam and crudely grabbed his crotch. His friends laughed and shouted obscenities while they spread around Catam in a circle.

The other patrons had quieted when they realized a brutal battle was about to take place. Money furtively changed hands until Set declined to fight. Once he leaned back against the bar, a shout sounded and the crowd erupted into a betting frenzy.

Set grinned. "I'll take five to one on the drun in the middle."

Catam frowned at the large man. He eagerly antic.i.p.ated the coming fight, but being called a s.h.i.t for the second time, and by his crewmate no less, irritated him to no end.

Taking advantage of his distraction, one of the barbarians rushed Catam with his sword drawn. Unarmed except for the dagger tucked into his boot, Catam dropped low and whipped out his leg, tripping his rushing attacker easily. The man hit the ground with a solid thump, and Catam finished him with a measured strike intended to produce both nausea and dizziness.

Sure enough, his attacker began vomiting and held his head, groaning.

Seeing their comrade downed so quickly, two more of the barbarians attacked, the leader waiting cautiously behind.

Catam ducked and rolled to avoid a near decapitation. He wanted to laugh out loud at the thrill coursing through him. The battle made his blood hum. He felt alive and subconsciously tapped into his extrasensory awareness that hovered just under the surface.

His eyes glowed and he noted the sudden wariness of the opponent nearest him. Catam feinted left. He pulled back as one of the men lunged with his weapon, then pivoted and used the man's momentum to crash the rushing barbarians into one another.

The thrown barbarian unfortunately had his sword at the ready when Catam threw him into his comrade, and he skewered the man through the stomach.

Cheers went through the crowd and Catam glanced behind him to see Set's amused expression flatten, indicating another a.s.sault, this one too close to miss.

Catam leapt to the side, narrowly avoiding a fatal blow while suffering a minor wound. Blood trickled from the shallow cut in his shoulder, the pain stinging him to life once more.

With a grin at his crewmate, who rolled his eyes and huffed at the ceiling, Catam sank to the floor and rolled left, knocking the surviving barbarian to the ground. Unlike his skewered friend, this man recovered enough to regain his feet, but Catam had tired of the play.

He dodged the next blow and went in hard. A punch to the gut and a chop to the man's throat had the third barbarian incapacitated.

Then the leader advanced, a raging menace of fury as he commanded not one but two Cortami cla.s.s swords with blurring velocity. Catam briefly noted Set's alarm and shook his head to stop the Ragga's intrusion.

Whirling left and right, with inherent speed and using Xema distortion techniques, Catam confused his enemy to the point of dizziness. The man swayed on his feet, trying to keep up with the hazy image of Catam surrounding him.

Catam knocked his adversary unconscious with a sharp blow to the man's temple. Still pulsing off an adrenaline high, it took Catam a moment to remember the crowd watching him.

He blinked at the sudden silence and joined Set at the bar. "What?"

Set shook his head, looking disgusted. "Show off. Come on, we have work to do."

In a flash, Catam faced an angry Captain Mara aboard the ship, the teleporter an unwelcome reminder that he did indeed have a job to do, and that like it or not, the boredom would find him once more.

Isa Araye frowned as she stared at the back of the closet door and listened to the m.u.f.fled groans outside. She knew she shouldn't, but she couldn't help herself, and she peered through the small crack where she'd opened the door.

She'd grown up on a world that considered s.e.xual pleasure a way of life. Viewing s.e.x was a natural and practical way to stimulate one's drive, at least according to her mother.

Isa squinted to see a woman's figure through the dim light of the room. The woman cried out with excitement as her nude torso rode up and down, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s quivering as she engulfed the large, white phallus straining between her thighs. The man beneath her groaned and thrust up each time she sank down, the slap of sticky flesh and mingled fluids a messy reminder that such pleasure was best left to others.

With a soft sigh, Isa prayed the two would finish copulating so she wasn't put further behind schedule. Already she'd missed her first window of opportunity when the statesman took his midnight snack.

She heard a hoa.r.s.e shout and a whisper: "Be quiet, Daarna." At the rate these two were going, she'd be a year older before she finished the job.

Another m.u.f.fled groan and the two stilled, finally. The woman slumped over the man and the lovers panted in tandem, defining the moment. Definitely not my day, Isa mentally grumbled at the amorous pair on the bed. As if I need another reminder of how unlikely I am to ever find amazing s.e.x.

Shaking her head, she stealthily slid out of the closet, staying to the shadows. Reaching the door, she crawled out of the room on her hands and knees, entering the dark pa.s.sage that would lead her to treasure.

Mother would have an absolute fit to see her daughter sneaking in hallways. Better that Isa take after that s.e.xual creature on the bed, straddling a needy c.o.c.k like a good pleasurer, instead of stalking like a thief in the night. All the Araye women, save Isa, worked in the s.e.x trade, a highly respected trade on Aran, Mardu's third moon.

"But I had to be different," Isa muttered softly and stopped outside the door she'd been told would be unlocked. She slowly jostled the handle and let out a breath of relief. It turned without incident and she entered the darkened room quietly, closing the door behind her.

Gliding with an agility she owed to her father, she moved on winged feet, almost floating over the floor her steps were so light. She reached the point her contact said would be the safe and switched on a pocket laser to see.

She stared in confusion. Instead of the painting that should have hidden the wall safe, she saw the painting raised, the safe door open and the safe ... empty. She shook her head, puzzled, and took a step back and to the side, to rea.s.sess the situation from another perspective.

Instead of moving backward, she tripped over something on the floor, a large something considering she lay half on top of it. The warning in her mind began ringing with a loud "get out now" bell when her initial suspicions proved correct.

She shined her laser on the form beneath her and cursed aloud. She should never have accepted this job, should have refused to work on any job with Harron's name attached. And by Flor's holy feet, she should never, ever, have taken a job that involved a member of the Zeron province.

Statesman Klin's dead body stared up at her with doom written all over him. She withdrew her hand from her glove to affirm his death. His neck felt cold when she reached for a pulse, and she knew he'd been dead several hours at least. Slipping her glove back on, she used the wall for support to stand and slid, leaving a b.l.o.o.d.y handprint on the wall.

Her laser illuminated only small portions of the statesman since her light had to be small in scope, nearly unnoticeable. Moving the light gradually revealed that his throat had been slit, and the hilt of a large knife protruded from his belly.

Seeing his wounds brought home her danger and she trembled in shock, at both his brutal death and her own reasons for being in his study in the first place. Getting caught had always been a danger, since thievery on Mardu was not a lawfully appreciated skill. But now being found would mean certain death, especially with blood on her hands.

Isa wiped her palms on her trousers and flinched when something sc.r.a.ped outside the door from which she'd entered. Her mind whirred and she instinctively sought refuge in a large wooden armoire, contorting her narrow body to fit under several thick blankets.

She breathed deeply to lower her heart rate, slowing her pulse so she could maintain silence and reason out this mess.

"Is she here?" a familiar voice whispered.

Isa's eyes narrowed in concentration.

"Shh, not so loud Daarna."

The man and the woman from the other room.

"Oh bother, Arnath," the woman drawled, though her voice remained a whisper. "The servants are all but gone. It's just you, me, and our murderess." She laughed softly, the tinkle of dark joy sending chills down Isa's spine.

A rustle of cloth sounded. Doors thudded, cabinets were forced open and closed. Isa huddled as far down as she could in the armoire, praying the mountain of clothing on top of her would be sufficient to hide her presence.

The armoire door opened abruptly. She held her breath as something tamped down on the cloth above her.

"d.a.m.n it, where is she?" Daarna slammed the armoire shut and Isa gratefully exhaled a quiet breath.

"She's here somewhere. We just have to find her. See the handprint on the wall, the scuff marks on the floor?"

"Perfect." Daarna chuckled with glee. "That print on the wall clearly implicates her. Now we just have to capture her on the premises and it's as good as done."

Arnath's deep voice murmured something Isa couldn't quite make out. Then she blinked in disbelief. They couldn't be ... not in here, not near the dead statesman! Several strained minutes pa.s.sed.

"More, Arnath, f.u.c.k me harder," Daarna cried.

"Yes, yes," he panted. More grunts, then silence. Then, "I'm coming!"

"Wait, let me," she paused and Arnath groaned. "Me too," Daarna keened.

Isa felt sick. The statesman lay dead on the floor in a pool of blood while Daarna and Arnath screwed each other. Had they been watching him while they did it? That thought made her feel truly ill, and she had to force herself to breathe in through her mouth and out through her nose to stifle the nausea.

"That was so good," Daarna purred. "I want to do it again."

Again? They just had s.e.x in the other room and now in here. Was Daarna in heat?

"Sure thing, baby. But let's get out of here. We definitely don't want to get caught in here together. And I especially can't be seen until after tomorrow at the House...." his voice trailed into something unintelligible.

Isa's ears buzzed. Something about tomorrow struck a cord, but she just couldn't piece everything together, not when she kept seeing the statesmen's slit throat in a pool of blood. Not when she heard the groans and grunts of two deviants f.u.c.king over said man's dead body.

"You're right as always," Daarna murmured. Then a door slid shut and silence settled over the study.

Isa wanted to run from the armoire and the room, but she moved as she'd been taught, with caution. Seeing no one in the room with her, at least, no one alive, she hightailed it out of study, only to find herself face to face with a maid.

Thank Flor she'd remembered to wear her mask. Isa shot past the shrieking maid and turned left instead of right when she reached the end of the corridor. For some reason her map of the house and the actual locations of the corridors didn't mesh.

Harron's information on this maze of hidden tunnels had proved remarkably efficient--remarkably efficient as a tool to frame Isa for a murder and theft she hadn't committed.

As she ran to escape, alarms sounded and the low snarl of guard thrells surprised her. One more detail Harron had forgotten to mention. The thrells were gaining as she ran, their six-legged progress and powerful sense of smell quickly diminishing her small lead.

Making a decision, she veered right and leapt into an overly large window frame, narrowly avoiding the gaping jaw of a loose threll barking like mad. Knowing the threll's handler would soon follow, Isa said a brief prayer and jumped out the window into the lake five floors below.

Chapter Two.

Catam's gaze narrowed at the naked woman writhing beneath him. Legs spread wide, her blond curls glistening with dew beckoned him closer. He toyed with her swollen folds, not giving her all of what she needed, his fingers playing her like a finely tuned instrument.

His c.o.c.k swelled, knowing she was near release. She cried out and came, gushing over his hand while she groaned his name.

"Now me," the woman at his back pleaded, as if she hadn't already experienced two mind-blowing o.r.g.a.s.ms.

His c.o.c.k stiffened when she ran her hands over his back, and he turned around to find her on her knees.

"Is this what you want, Sharell?" he asked with a grin, his hand guiding his erection to her lips. As an answer, she engulfed him, her mouth working him like a pump, sucking him deeper, flicking her tongue along his shaft the way he liked.

He allowed his mind to drift, his body absorbing the empty pleasure for what it was, a physical release. Sharell squirmed and moaned as she sucked him, the act making her hotter and wetter.

"Please, Catam, come in my mouth," she begged and sucked harder, deep-throating him as she plucked her c.l.i.t.

Playing to her fantasy, Catam complied. He thrust deeper into her mouth, faster and faster, until his climax crashed over him. He timed it so that he came when she did, so she received maximum pleasure for her efforts.

He shuddered into her mouth and groaned, satisfied when she swallowed all of him, her mouth tightening and then releasing him as she cried out her o.r.g.a.s.m.

"Now me," a third woman's whisper sounded to his left, and he shook his head.

He turned away to don his clothing. "Sorry, ladies, but I'm out of time. I'll try to visit again next month," he promised, and left the three pleasurers pouting and pleading with him to return.

He shook his head as he reentered Nebe6's most crowded pleasure center. Several women shot him come-hither looks that he blithely ignored. Despite his o.r.g.a.s.m he felt far from sated. But the hour had struck six and he had a meeting to attend.