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The regent shrugged. “Black market, no doubt. She had the money for it. I’ve found evidence she transferred three hundred million imperials out of her personal accounts.”
He cursed. “She could have bought a battleship with that much cash.”
“Among other things. It seems she’s also purchased a certain werewolf slave.”
“Conlan?” Gerik ground his teeth. “I told you we should have had that bastard killed!”
“And I felt slavery was a far more galling punishment.”
“No, you were just looking to line your pockets!”
“Watch your tongue!”
Gerik subsided, glaring at his father. “I don’t understand how she even managed the independence to have the system installed to begin with. When did she break your control?”
Umar shrugged and leaned back in his massive thronelike chair. “The money transfer was three weeks ago. One assumes just before that.”
“On her birthday.” Gerik raked his hands through his hair and gave it a frustrated jerk. “Must have been one of the gifts.”
“Probably. There were several things her father’s will specified she receive when she reached her majority.”
Gerik glowered. “And you allowed that?”
Umar drummed his ringed fingertips on his desk. “Apparently the emperor’s lawyer was more determined than I expected.”
“Have the bastard killed.”
“Oh, I did.”
A new thought struck him, drew his belly into a sick knot. “Do you think she knows?”
Umar shrugged. “We must assume so.”
“If she tells the Bastard—”
“She won’t get the opportunity.” His father’s voice was hard and icy.
“She’d damned well better not. Where is she now? I’ll—”
“You’ll stay right here.” Umar’s voice could snap like a slaver’s whip when it suited him. “I have put a plan into action. We’ll have her back in hand shortly. In the meantime, you will best serve me here. The Bastard is planning something—I can almost smell it on the wind.” His long nose twitched, as if catching Kuarc Lorezo’s scent.
“Don’t worry about Kuarc.” Gerik’s hand tightened on his sword. “I’ll deal with him.”
Umar lifted that brow again. “You’d better. If you fail this mission, my son, there will be no others.”
FOUR
Zarifa could feel Mad Dog walking behind her, pacing like a great animal. Something about him seemed to broadcast raw sex. She could feel his intense sensuality in every hair that stood on the back of her neck, in the nipples that rose to hard, tingling attention, in the tension that clenched between her thighs.
We’re going to make love. Then she corrected the thought with the brutal self-honesty her father had taught her: No, we’re going to fuck.
The idea shimmered in her mind, dancing on the waves of heat that surged in her blood. It had been six years since she’d known a man’s touch, six years since she’d dared risk the fumbling rush and furtive pleasure of sex. After watching her lover’s execution for treason, she’d had no taste for risking another man’s life. Not when Umar had made it so viciously clear that he’d do anything to control her and keep his grip on power.
A grip she was damned well going to break. Escaping him and his son had been only the first stage of the plan. There would be more to do later, but for now she was free—free to sample her seductive Mad Dog.
Unfortunately, she had no idea how to go about it. Asking him to make love to her seemed a bit too bald, but her personal experience didn’t extend to seduction.
Still wrestling with the problem, Zarifa led the way down the vast, echoing corridor that was the Gamma Deck, past the endless rows of airlocks that led to umbilical docking tubes. Each tube held a ship at a precise distance from Market Station. Some of the tubes were scarcely wide enough for two people to walk abreast, while others—those for cargo vessels—were as big around as some ships.
