Page 10 of Her Consort
Chapter Four
“I tell you,” Kogan was saying while Piper continued to float in and out of herself. “I was one of six—six, out of my entire squad—hand-picked for this job. I threw myself into it, too. I discovered an aptitude for languages I didn’t know I had and learned seven of them.” Lifting his head off the wall, he craned to better see her face. “Eight,” he added, somewhat proudly, “if you count Terran. And really, Terran English ought to count as three languages all on its own. There, their, and they’re? Seriously? It’s and its? You have twenty-six letters in your alphabet, six of which you barely use. You’ve no excuse for homonyms. Ha! Or heteronyms, for that matter.”
Piper said nothing. She was too busy drifting along on the languid aftermath of all the many aches that still occupied her too-heavy body.
They weren’t at the table anymore and hadn’t been for some time. Piper only vaguely remembered how Kogan had freed her from her restraints, picking her up and carrying her to his bed. That was where they were now, cradled together in his embrace, half propped against a mound of pillows and the wall. He’d plucked the clamps off her body, quickly but gently, rarely pausing to kiss the marks left behind. At least, not until he’d come to her breasts. That was when he’d paused to hold and caress them, and then the talking had started. Piper remembered nothing of what he’d said in those early moments. She’d been detached, in her body but somehow above and beyond it, on ethereal waves of heightened sensation so potent that no other awareness could get in.
“No excuse for homonyms,” Kogan said again, one finger lightly trailing up her arm, twirling a lazy circle around her shoulder before journeying back down again. “Mm, where was I?”
She blinked, her skin so sensitive that it seemed his wandering finger was branding a path wherever it roamed.
“Oh, yes,” Kogan mused. “So there I was, one of six hand-picked soldiers from my squad, being offered the job of a lifetime. You better believe I threw myself into it, too. Not just anyone gets to be a consort, you know. It takes intelligence, strength of will, a certain sadistic quality, and an aptitude for languages—which, amazingly, I have—”
“Mmpf,” she said through lips too heavy to move.
He lifted his head, looking at her again. “What was that?”
She tried again. “You already… said that.”
“Did I? Hm.” He both shrugged and chuckled, making himself comfortable. “Well, it’s no less true the second time than it was the first, but I’ll continue on. Welcome back, by the way.”
She hummed, too tired to speak, too sensually wired to sleep. She was, however, finding it easier to drag two thoughts together and once she could, what she started thinking about were the clouds of amber powder that had started all this to begin with.
“Hand-picked,” Kogan said cheerfully. “One of six. I cannot stress that enough. If you only knew the odds—”
“Were we drugged?” Piper mumbled, her tongue feeling every bit as thick as her lips were uncooperative.
“Yes.” Kogan gave her shoulder a quick squeeze. “Seven different languages… Plus the extra stuff: the art of poetry, massage. I learned to play four instruments—”
“We were drugged?” Only now that he had confirmed it, could Piper fully wrap her head around the ramifications of everything that had just happened.
“Uldarian Rut Weed,” he informed her, distracted. “Also known as Passion Powder. Also known as the Last Call Sniff Whiff. Four different instruments, and no, the kazoo was not one of them. Everyone always asks that, but although I did master the intricacies of that particular little hummer, unlike Boethal, I don’t count it.”
Piper stared past his chest and out through the window at the side of the gray-paneled fuselage that took up the entire view. She felt cold. The environmental controls were on and Kogan was a muscular furnace underneath her, so she knew that coldness had nothing to do with the two of them lying naked in one another’s arms on his narrow bed.
“I studied profusely,” he said, “and because I was earmarked for the ambassador to Earth, I learned everything I could about your planet. For six years, I took class after class, mastering all I could on a variety of subjects from hand-to-hand combat, knives and small-arms training, first aid, tactical strategies—everything one needs to know about dealing with women. You know I don’t like to boast—” his chest puffed with pride, “—but if I were Gilligan, I’d’ve had a working escape plan by the end of the pilot episode, Mary Ann’s panties in my pocket by the second, and been off that island ten minutes into the third. Of course,” he mused, scratching his chin, “I couldn’t do anything until she gave in to my seductive charms and hit me. Either way, your family-friendly rating system would never have been the same.”
Barely listening to him, Piper pushed against his chest. Kogan loosened his arms, letting her go.
“How could you?” she said, still so fuzzy she honestly didn’t know if she was more perplexed than hurt, or the other way around.
Kogan blinked twice. “Farm girls are feisty. Ginger was always just… so passionlessly agreeable.”
A flush of hot fury overwhelmed both her confusion and cold. “The Passion Powder, you idiot!” She resisted the urge to hit him, but only just. “You knew we were drugged and you… you did all that… that… that! You did it anyway!”
Arching both eyebrows, he stared at her. “I beg your pardon?”
“You ought to! You deserve to! I can’t believe you would take advantage of me like, like… that!” And she had liked it. She’d been drugged, but still she had liked it. She didn’t know which of their behavior she ought to condemn more, but he was the one in front of her, reaching out his hand to catch her wrist. So he was the one who caught the full force of her mortified, knee-jerk reaction. She slugged him, her knuckles only just grazing his chin because he jerked his head back.
Her reactions were probably still suffering under the effects of the Passion Powder. His were top-notch. He caught her arm before she could scramble clear of either him or the bed, and when she jerked around, her other fist already flying to land another blow, he caught that arm too.
“Get off me!” Piper shouted, but he yanked her back instead, flipping her under him even as she fell. She landed on her belly, bouncing once against the mattress before he hooked his leg over hers and the full force of his much heavier weight flattened her to his bed. Snapping her head back, she cracked her skull against his chin. Unlike her knuckles, that blow connected solidly.
He shook his head, clearing his senses even as he barked harsh laughter. Grabbing the back of her head, he flattened on top of her all over again. “Finally,” he breathed, hot against her neck. The buck of her hips brought his stirring cock into contact with the crack of her buttocks. He ground into her, letting her feel the length of him as he swelled. “Piper, Rut Weed must be cooked to a certain temperature and mixed in sweet alcohol before it has any lasting effectiveness. Inhaled, one might feel a buzzing sensation for maybe fifteen or thirty seconds.”
Catching her breath, Piper stopped trying to wriggle out from under him. “B-but… that would mean…”
Kogan pumped his hips into her, a single hard thrust that bucked hers squarely into the side of his bed. “That you wanted it?” He thrust again. It didn’t take much to rekindle the fires of what she had so wrongfully assumed was there only because of the drugs. “That you are nothing like the last woman I served? Agi had no feelings for me. But you… you want me.”
