Ch. 26

Kathryn strode confidently down the middle of the large hall. She kept her chin up and her eyes on her target, which was the complete opposite of yesterday when she could barely see anything and had been doing her damndest not to trip. She had no armed escort or daughter in tow this time. The king, too, seemed to be taking this meeting differently as he sat waiting on his throne, no cheap parlor tricks or magical appearances this time.

Approaching the dais, Kathryn could only recall bits and pieces of yesterday. The initial appearance was branded solidly in her memory, but everything after the drugging came in flashes. There were two advisors standing to the right of the king; only one of them looked familiar to her. All of the guards posted and the entourage of people milling around struck chords of similarity in her mind, but she couldn't have pinpointed a single detail about any of them if her life depended on it. Which she sincerely hoped it didn't.

She stopped near the foot of the dais and eyed the king. They both waited for the other to speak first, and Kathryn took the opportunity to study him. Unsurprisingly, he exuded arrogance and masculinity and everything about his appearance was meant to enhance that affect. The dark boots and pants that appeared almost militaristic in nature coupled with another sleeveless shirt showing off his muscled arms. The raised marks stood out brightly on his skin as his hands rolled a jeweled dagger between them.

"Feeling better today?" he asked, a cocky smile on his face. The sycophantic laughter of his entourage predictably followed his comment.

"Yes, thank you," Kathryn replied tightly.

"That's good. I'd hate to have you drooling on our guests later." He frowned for a second. "What did you say your name was?"

"Admiral Kathryn Janeway." His question actually surprised her, and she had to wonder if he was feigning ignorance. "I demand to know why I've been brought here against my will."

"That's really your name?" He tapped the knife blade against his knee. "That's way too long. I'll have to come up with something better. Something more palatable."

"Only if you don't expect a response," she quipped, causing a stir from his aides.

Standing abruptly, the king descended the few steps towards her, waving off the guard that moved to accompany him. His eyes raked over her, slowly taking in every aspect of her. "I wonder if you truly are one of our demons. Your hair color certainly matches our demon of fire, but your eyes could easily be those of a sea spirit. Are you god or are you mortal?" he mused, circling behind her. "I can't wait to find out."

The last remark was said quietly in her ear, his hot breath brushing across her cheek as he leaned close to her. She refused to turn around to speak to him, knowing that's what he wanted her to do. "Why have you brought me here?"

One of his large hands wrapped slowly around her neck from behind, his fingers covering the entire expanse of skin, and she could feel the heat of his body against her back. He nuzzled her hair and pulled her back against him. She resisted the urge to throw an elbow back; she could tell he was expecting it. He was trying to goad a reaction from her.

"I was told," he said, drawing out his words, "that you were the strongest warrior of your kind." His thumb moved back and forth along her jaw as he spoke. "I was told that you had done great things unlike any other." She felt the tip of the knife touch her bare shoulder. "I was told you are a hero." He trailed the knife all the way down her arm. "Are these things true?"

"I did my duty," she hissed, feeling his fingers squeeze tighter on her throat as she spoke.

"Hmmm…you see the reason I ask is because if I was lied to, I'd have to kill you." He drew the blade across her exposed middle. "And I'd have to do it in such a way that death itself would be a release from the punishment of dying." The knife angled out from her, poised to drive straight through her. "Lying to the king is a most heinous act. One of which merits punishment not only against you, but against your progeny, as well." He spun Kathryn around and reasserted his chokehold, forcing her to look up at him. "So tell me, Ad-miral, are you a hero to your people?"

She hesitated, glaring at him. "Yes."

He stared into her eyes for several moments. "I believe you, and yet you resent this title. Why?"

"What do you want from me?" she growled, ignoring his question.

This time a smile crept across his face, and his eyes once again traveled the length of her body. "What do I want from you?" he mused. "Hmmm…so many things." He looked past her shoulder and gave a quick nod.

And then she could see what he had in mind. It was an assault of images. His hands on her body. Stroking over her breasts, moving further downwards, his fingers spread wide covering her entire belly. Her body framed by dark satin sheets, writhing underneath him. Her face twisted in an expression of sensual delight. His head moving lower on her body, her hands tangled in his hair. Raised marks on her skin, designs matching his. Her standing beside his throne, her belly swollen with child.

"No!" With an extreme force of will, she tore herself away from his grasp, away from the images. She only managed to stumble a step or two away from him, and she heard his growl of frustration. Kathryn's head was pounding as though she'd gone too long without oxygen, and then he was on her again.

She put a hand up, a single weak protest to ward him off. He caught and twisted it behind her back, the motion pushing her body further against his. The movement was abrupt, making her head spin, and Kathryn opened her eyes in time to see the lines of Chakotay's tattoo as the dark head of hair slipped past her and began raining hot kisses across her bare shoulder, traveling slowly up her neck, moving along her jaw. Was it really him? She sucked in a deep breath as he knowingly hit all the spots that made her weak. He knew her so well, it had to be him. She wanted it to be him. Needed it to be him. Needed to touch him. But he still held her hand trapped behind her back. She tugged at his grip, knowing he'd let her go, knowing that she loved to trace her fingers along the dark lines of ink that adorned his face. But his grip only tightened and his mouth was on hers. Hard and insistent. Wrong.

"NO!" Kathryn's body and mind screamed.

A cry of pain.

A man swearing.

And Kathryn found herself on the floor again. Alone. Her head spinning.

"I thought you said you could do this!" The king was raging at someone near the dais. "Can you control her or not?"

The melodic voice of bells sounded scared. "I just need more time. She is not like any other I've had before."

"Sire, please," another voice joined the fray, "she's already shown considerable improvement. Physical contact wasn't even necessary this time."

"I will have her! And when I do, I want her willing and eager," the king thundered. "I do not want to have to worry about her putting a blade through my neck during the night!"

"Of course not, sire. The imp will be able to control her," the male voice soothed. "She just needs a little more time."

"I have already waited for her!" the king raged, and a goblet crashed against the far wall, scattering people as its contents stained the stones. He turned on his heel, fuming, watching as Kathryn slowly regained her feet. His voice was a low growl. "How much more time does the imp need?"

"One more night, your majesty, please."

The waif's plea sent chills through Kathryn, but the idea of what she faced hardened her as well. "It doesn't matter how many nights you have," her voice surprised everyone in the room, "I will never come to you willingly, and you will never be safe around me…with or without a blade."

There were several surprised gasps in the room, and all eyes were riveted on the king. His hard eyes were on Kathryn; the look he gave her could only be called predatory. Pointing at the waif, his voice was menacing. "You have one more night. Don't disappoint me."