He shivered violently then reached out to touch her . . .
The tune died. Slowly she looked to him, her dark eyes vague, part of her still there in that timeless realm. She gave a little shudder as if loath to return, then, her eyes focusing again, she smiled.
"Well?"
He smiled and nodded. Then, reaching out, he took her hand. She lay the lute down carefully, and, never once relinquishing his hand, moved closer, kneeling by his side. ' He caressed her cheek, her hair, then leaned closer to inhale a long, deep breath of her. That made her laugh; made her look up at him.
"You like that smell?"
Again he nodded.
Slowly her face changed, became more serious. She tilted her head, her lips falling open once again and, as if compelled, he put his mouth to hers, sinking down into the warmth, the sensual darkness of her kiss.
He felt her hands move softly to his neck, caressing his skin, sensed the growing stiffness at his groin, but for that instant it seemed he was entirely detached from that, his whole self focused into the meeting of their lips, the whole of him poured like molten metal into that single point of contact. Such gentle, moist surrender it was; such shivering, sensational delight. The wires of his nerves sang, as if a massive sensory link had suddenly opened between the surface of his lips and the deeper levels of his brain.
He pressed hungrily at her, his face forcing hers back, a sudden, animal savagery taking him. His hands tore at her clothes, ripping them from her back as he pushed her down. But his urgency was matched by hers. She grunted, her face mirroring the lust he felt, encouraging him. As he lifted her skirt her hands tore at his clothes, freeing him. For a brief moment she held him back with her left hand, the fingers pressed against his inner thigh, while with the other she gently traced the length of his swollen penis.
He groaned, wanting at that instant to thrust right through her, to pin her to the floor and stab at her time and time and time again, but still her left hand held him while her fingers stroked and caressed his shaft - those same long fingers which had coaxed the ancient melody from the air.
She was smiling now; a lascivious, animal smile of lust. "You like that, Tom? You like that?"
Again he groaned. It was unbearable, utterly, hideously unbearable. His penis hurt it was so hard, the skin so tight it seemed that at any moment it would burst. He pushed at her, trying to reach her, but still she held him, her strength matching his own.
She whispered, her breath hot against his neck.
"That's the secret, Tom. Don't you understand that? It's like the music. You have to want it. Want it beyond anything you've ever wanted. Only then is it any good. Only then . . ."
He groaned again, then suddenly, unbelievably, he was inside her, his hardness breaching her softness, her body pressing up against his, the hot wetness of her, the sensation of her flesh against his own exploding like a dark star in his head, blinding his senses. Mindlessly he thrust at her, again and again and again until, with a broken cry that was half sheer agony and half pure bliss, his body arched.
"Yes!" she said breathlessly. "Yes! Yes, my love, that's iff'
The spasm made him jerk like a dying man, his face grimacing in unseeing agony above hers, his arms locked stiff either side of her head, his teeth gritted as, with one final violent thrust he buried his pulsing seed deep within her.
"Jeee-eee-arghh\"
The sound - savage and inchoate - came from deep within, from a part of him that wasn't chained to silence.
Slowly, very slowly, he relaxed.
"That's it . . ." she said softly, gently stroking his back, caressing his tensed and naked buttocks. "That's it, my darling boy. You see? You see now what I meant?"
At this late hour, the massive hangar-like building that was Mashhad fast-track terminus was echoing empty. The crowds that had packed the station earlier had dispersed, some home to their quarters in the Warlord's sprawling mountain capital, others to their various destinations in distant East Asia and the neighbouring West Asian states. One name alone remained now on the destination board: Krasnovodsk.
In five minutes, that too would be gone and the station would be closed, its gates locked. Even now the guards were checking their timers, the last few late travellers boarding hastily, hauling their luggage up onto the narrow walkway that ran alongside the carriages.
As the three-minute warning hooter sounded, Eva gripped her brother tightly, then giving him a brave smile, urged him on board. They had said their goodbyes earlier, though whether they were temporary or final, neither knew.
"Take care, Alan," she said, steeling herself not to cry, not to let him down at the final moment. "And if you hit trouble, remember - save yourself, not the shipment."
He sniffed deeply, then nodded. "I shall, my darling Eva. Be assured I shall."
He turned to go, yet as the one-minute hooter sounded, he stepped back and hugged her one last time. Then, quickly, he climbed up onto the running board and hauled himself inside. And not a moment too soon. With a loud hiss the doors slid shut, the bolts falling into place with a soft double-clunk. Pressing his face to the window, he began to wave.
Slowly, very slowly, the fast-track pulled away, accelerating all the while, heading north toward the Gonbad Gap, then on to Ashkhabad. There it would stop to pick up passengers before travelling on north-west to Krasnovodsk on the south-eastern shore of the Caspian Sea.
"The gods protect you," she said softly, as she waved him out of sight. "And pray we'll meet again, sweet brother."
It was after two when she returned to her quarters in the palace, surprised to find the main lights on, guards everywhere. Arriving at her rooms, it was to find a young lieutenant going through her shelves and cupboards.
"What is it?" she asked him, suspecting the worst, but he was apologetic.
"Forgive me, Nu Shi Calder," he said, turning and bowing to her, "but I have my orders. We have been told to search the palace thoroughly. It seems a few things have gone missing from the Warlord's collection. Important things."
She swallowed but said nothing, gesturing that he should carry on. Besides, he would find nothing now.
"What has gone missing?" she asked after a moment.
He glanced at her. "I'm afraid that's confidential. But there's a hell of a stink about it. It seems security was breached at the highest level. Hu Wang-chih was livid when he heard."
"Yes . . ." She could imagine. Her heart was pounding now. She hadn't gambled on them finding out so soon.
"Do they know who it was?"
The young officer shrugged, then carried on his work, pulling things down from the shelf and shaking them, then putting them back in a desultory fashion. "No one can say for sure. It seems the security cameras were broken. But I'd put good money on it being one of the guards."
"Ah. . ."She hesitated, controlling herself again, then asked. "Why's that?"
"Because they had access."
"Ah," she said again. Yet others had had access too, herself among them. But then, Hu Wang-chih trusted her implicitly. After all, it was she who fed him, shaved him, bathed him, even - from time to time - slept with him.
She shivered, then, hearing the click of booted footsteps in the corridor outside, turned.
"Lieutenant Stocken?"
The young officer turned, then straightened up, facing the newcomer. "Yes, sergeant?"