Agent in Distress Ch. 02

Lana gasped, and struck him in the chest, then shook her hand in pain. It felt like punching stone.

"Show me more of your abilities," said Warrick quickly, changing the subject. Then he pointed toward the edge of a beautiful rock garden. "Can you . . . make that stone rise into the air?"

Lana smiled. "Of course!" She reached out with her mind, and caused the hand-sized stone to rise into the air, to the level of Warrick's chest. Then the stone floated in the air toward them, until it was nearly within arm's reach.

"Truly remarkable," murmured Warrick. He reached out to wipe his hand under the stone, then all around it. Then he touched it, and it wobbled but remained floating in the air. Then he let out a surprised breath as another stone rose up from the garden and floated toward them, joining the other stone, and resting on top of it, both stones floating in midair.

"As a child you must have given your parents all manner of trouble," observed Warrick, still mesmerized by the floating stones.

Lana giggled, nodding. "Yes, but I didn't learn how to control about my abilities until I was recruited by the Institute at age 18. They used to manifest when I was angry."

"I can imagine," said Warrick with raised eyebrows. "It is no wonder you are so inexperienced with men, they must have been terrified of you."

Lana opened her mouth in protest, and the stones wobbled in the air, dropping a bit before stabilizing. "I am not . . . inexperienced . . . I simply had other priorities."

But he wasn't finished. "So then you can assure me that when we are deep in Lord Nikos' territory, your inexperience with men will not be a danger, to me or yourself?"

Lana frowned. "I'm not sure I understand."

Warrick explained patiently. "When you are posing as a slave, there may come a time when you are subject to . . . interrogation." When she looked alarmed, he held up his hand. "Let me explain. Newly captured slaves are often interrogated, to determine their experience, their background, their suitability for slavery . . . this may happen to you."

Lana held her hands up. "Yes, I understand. You needn't worry about me, I've been trained in withstanding interrogation, like all Arbiters. We have excellent mind control, it helps us to withstand pain or psychological abuse that would break a normal person."

Warrick raised his eyebrows. "I'm impressed. But slavers may use some techniques you're not accustomed to." His hand went to his chin in thought. "I have an idea, and you may refuse if you find it the least bit distasteful."

Lana watched him with fascination as he reached up and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Let's test your ability. I want to see if I can distract you while you are exercising your abilities. I'm just going to touch you, in a way that a normal female of your . . . experience, would find very distracting."

Lana smiled. "I'm not a complete innocent, Warrick," she scolded. "I see how you look at my breasts sometimes, if you want to touch them, and see if I react, go ahead."

She laughed at the look of surprise he was not quick enough to hide. He shrugged, smiling back, "I'm only a man, no special ability to help me not look at you."

Lana grinned. "So this is all a scheme just to touch me."

Warrick rolled his eyes. "This is simple mission preparation, do not flatter yourself, Miss Torina. Now, focus on the stones, young lady."

"Wait!" said Lana. "If I win, you will take me to where they train the slave girls, for a tour."

Warrick sighed. "Very well, if you win," he said. "Now, the stones, young lady!"

Lana chuckled, looking at the two stones, floating in the air. They practiced these games often in the Institute, and she was very good at them. She closed her eyes, calming her mind, reaching out to feel the stones, almost as if she were touching them. She was expecting him to grab her breasts like an oversexed teenager, so when his hands simply came to her sides, she was caught off guard. Warrick had moved around behind her, and his hands were reaching to hers, gently taking her wrists.

"You must do as I say, that is part of the test," whispered Warrick in her ear. His soft, deep voice tingled inside her head, a pleasurable feeling like listening to her favorite orchestral music. His strong hands were guiding hers upward, until he placed her hands against the back of her head. "Lace your fingers together, good. Now don't move your hands," he said gently but firmly. Lana felt an odd thrill to be commanded by the enigmatic warrior.

"Yes, Master," said Lana in an exaggerated sweet voice that made Warrick chuckled. She closed her eyes again, reaching out with her mind to his, but again, she could read nothing from him, it was as if her shield were up. Whether it was his closeness, or the wine, or something, her whole body felt tingly and alive, such that when his hands touched her sides, she jumped, the stones jumping in the air along with her.

Warrick chuckled. "Keep those stones steady, milady," he admonished. His hands were wandering up her sides, only touching her with his fingertips. She was sure he would grab her breasts next, like the overeager young men at her secondary school, but again he surprised her, for his fingertips simply traveled up to her shoulders, then down the tops of her arms. Lana shivered slightly, for her skin felt terribly sensitive under his feather touches. With her hands still on the back of her neck, her arms were spread wide and bent at the elbows. His fingers were moving around the exposed skin of the underside of her arms, and she squirmed a bit. Again the stones wobbled, and she had to shift her focus from the gentle touches igniting her skin back to the stones.

His hands were traveling down her body again, and Lana realized her mind was focusing on wondering where they would go next, nervously, yet excitedly. Trying to focus on the stones only seemed to enhance her awareness of his roving fingers. The men she was familiar with would have long since moved on to more obvious targets, groping her like a hungry man given a meal. Yet this powerful warrior did no such thing, instead he seemed to be simply amusing himself, content to doodle his fingers over uninteresting parts of her body. Lana's vellana dress left much of her skin uncovered, and Warrick's fingers were now trailing down her bare sides to her hips, then they turned and moved slowly across her belly. Lana sucked in a breath at the exquisite sensations of rough fingertips on the bare sensitive skin below her navel. Then he dragged his fingers across the smooth, toned curve of her lower belly, and she nearly let the stones fall out of the air.

Luckily they didn't move from where they hung in the air, so she hoped the warrior had no idea how close she'd come to failing his test. His fingers were still at her sides, and she took a deep breath, alarmed at how sensitive her body had become. Then his hands were moving again, sliding around to caress her lower back, and she squirmed a bit as they touched a ticklish spot. "Your skin is exquisite," said Warrick softly, his warm breath touching her ear. Lana felt a thrill ripple through her, but she kept silent, for fear her voice might crack and betray her. His fingertips were trailing up the middle of her back, and they spread outward to her sides, stopping when they touched the strings that held her thin top against her chest. His fingers gently tugged on the string, and she felt her breasts move slightly as her top was jiggled. Lana glanced downward and then gasped softly at the sight of her erect nipples pressing against the white material that confined them. She hadn't realized the effect his touches had been having on her, and she prayed that standing behind her, he hadn't noticed either. She again reached out to his mind, for some hint about where he was looking, but as always she could sense nothing from him.

He gently tugged on the strings of her top again, and again her breasts jiggled gently. Lana closed her eyes, hoping he wasn't watching the show. Then her eyes flew open, as his fingers trailed upwards on her sides, caressing the outer swells of her breasts below her armpits. The two stones dipped in the air, and she had to lash out with her mind to arrest their fall. A bead of sweat began to roll down from her brow. In training, she'd been able to hold stones in the air for hours without so much as a thought, it was second nature. Yet at the Institute, she hadn't had to worry about male hands wandering all over her body. Speaking of which, the hands had moved up over her shoulders and were now trailing down her front below the neckline. She was sure he was going to touch her breasts now, and strangely she almost welcomed the thought, filled with curiosity of what it would feel like. Yet the hands traveled down, between her breasts, his palms carefully avoiding contact with her flesh. His fingertips only just caressed the inner swells of her cleavage before exiting onto the firm muscles around her rib cage at the top of her belly. Lana squirmed then, as the rough fingertips headed inexorably straight south toward her navel, swirling around it and heading further down. Her breath caught in her throat, and her thighs tensed as his fingers headed south until they touched the top of her panties.

Lana realized her breathing had become labored, and the stones were actually shaking in midair, her mind struggling to remember how to keep them aloft. His fingers were gently tracing horizontally now, tracing the top edge of her panties until they reached the thin strings that held them on her hips. His fingers entwined themselves in the strings, paused, and then suddenly pulled sharply but gently, pulling her panties against her flesh.

"Oh!" gasped Lana in shock, her eyes flying wide. Crack! She heard suddenly, as the two stones smacked into the flat stone floor at their feet. She'd lost! And he hadn't even touched her intimately. With disappointment, she realized his hands had left her, and she turned to face him. Her face felt flushed, and her breathing was still labored. Her body felt warm, heated, and unfulfilled. Strangely, a good part of her wanted to continue the game . . .

"You dropped your stones, Lana," said Warrick, looking down at her with his warm eyes that made her want to reach up and kiss him. "You may put your arms down now."

Lana lowered her arms, not even realizing they were still up. It occurred to her that she was dying to know what it would feel like for him to continue touching her, in more intimate places. Then she scolded herself. She'd only just met him, and since she couldn't read him at all, she had no idea if he even found her attractive. With her filter impaired by the wine, she said, "Warrick, do you find me attractive?" She instantly regretted it, and yet she had to know.

The warrior smiled down at her. "You tell me, Lana. You are the mind reader."

Her face contorted comically. Every instinct told her not to tell him, but she couldn't stop herself. "I can't!" she blurted. "I can't read you at all, my senses don't work on you!"

"I don't understand," said Warrick, innocently.

She searched his eyes, but she couldn't read him that way either. "Very rarely, I come across a person that I cannot read. Telepaths can hide their minds, but I can tell are not a telepath. Yet I cannot read you, not even a little. It is disconcerting."

"Not to me," replied Warrick, with a warm smile. "So . . . you have no idea if I find you attractive?"

"No!" wailed Lana. "With most men I can tell easily. But not with you . . ."

"Dellune females do not need your mind reading skills to know if a man desires them," said Warrick. He looked sternly at her. "Perhaps instead of reading other men's minds, you should actually pay attention to them?"

Lana's mouth fell open at his admonishment. "No, Warrick, I don't! I . . . I mean usually they are projecting, I cannot help but sense their thoughts."

"And you are happy to read those thoughts," said Warrick, his arms crossed in front of his broad chest.

"No!" she protested, putting her hand on his arm. "I can't . . . I mean, you are right, I shouldn't! But the men of your world . . . their thoughts toward me are so strong . . ."

The warrior seemed to be enjoying her embarrassment, and then he laughed. "It is ok, Lana, I am only teasing you. You are a very desirable woman . . ."

"Really?" she interrupted, looking up at him expectantly.

"I'm sure the men cannot help expressing their appreciation," he continued, a half grin on his face.

"The men . . ." said Lana, deflated. "What about you?"

Warrick's expression was unreadable. Then he winked at her. "You'll just have to learn to read my mind."

He was so infuriating. Lana punched him, but he only laughed. She punched him again, but he caught her wrist in his iron grip. He was remarkably strong, she couldn't even budge her arm in his grip. She reached up with her other arm, and he swiftly grabbed her other wrist. Lana drew in a sharp breath as she was held helplessly, inches from him. Her body still tingled from all his touching earlier, making her knees suddenly feel weak. Then she felt herself being pulled toward him, and suddenly his warm lips were pressing against hers. The shock rippled through her, and her mind recoiled in surprise at the sudden flood of sensation that jolted down toward her belly.

"Lords!" yowled Warrick, letting her go suddenly and reaching down to rub his knee. Lana looked down in confusion, then realized what had happened. In her shock, she'd mentally flung a stone at him, hard, and struck him in the knee.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she babbled. "Please forgive me!" she pleaded, reaching down for his knee, and bumping her forehead into his temple.

"Argh!" said the warrior again, standing up and holding his temple. "You are dangerous, woman!" he said to her.

Lana felt a little dizzy, it could also have been the wine. She took a step and nearly stumbled, but Warrick's arm shot up at lightning speed to take her by the arm.

"Are you alright, milady?" he said, nothing but concern now in his eyes. His hand on her arm was a sharp reminder of all the exploring of her body he'd been doing just moments before, and Lana again felt weak kneed.

"Ah—yes, I am good . . . well, I mean," she stammered, lost in his warm brown eyes. "A bit too much wine perhaps?" Then she remembered.

"You said you would should me where they train the slaves!" she blurted, her hand reaching up to touch his chest. "Could I witness an interrogation there?"

"I said if you won I would take you," corrected the warrior. "You lost. And I might add, it wasn't hard to defeat you."

Lana glared at him in mock anger. "You took so long I tired of holding up the stones!"

Warrick made a dismissive sound. "I suppose the men of your world would be much more brief?"

"Yes!" said Lana. Then she was confused. "No! I mean . . . I don't know what you are saying . . ." The wine was still making her head spin, she only knew he was teasing her somehow. She suddenly felt woozy, and she leaned on his arm to keep upright.

Warrick smiled, reaching around to place his arm to cradle the small of her back. "Milady, I think it is time I took you to your bed."

Lana's eyes widened. "You want to take me to bed?" she asked, breathless.

Warrick sighed. "To your bed, milady. To your bed."

"Oh, of course," said Lana with a nervous laugh. "To my bed. Just me, by myself." Part of her wanted to invite him, but she wasn't sure if that was the drunk part. How did one even invite a man to bed?

"Would you prefer to not be alone, in your bed?" Warrick was saying, looking at her with a half grin. She looked in his eyes, desperately trying to determine if he were teasing her. He bailed her out of her indecision. "I am only teasing you, my dear," he said. "You are much too drunk to decide these things. Come I will show you to your quarters."

Without another word, he guided her through the halls and up two flights of stairs, holding her by the arm when she became a wobbly after the first flight of stairs. By the top of the second flight, she was limp in his arms.

The next she knew, Lana found herself under the covers of a delightfully soft bed. "Oh!" she gasped, seeing a man sitting on the edge of the bed looking down at her. It was Warrick. "Oh dear, did . . . did you carry me here?"

Warrick smiled, "Yes, you . . . well you've had a lot to drink. I should have warned you of the strength of Dellune wine." He smiled, his tanned face lit by the flickering twin candles. "I'll leave you now, I'm sure you've had a long day." Lana watched his broad shoulders turn to leave, and she blurted without thinking.

"Wait! I . . . you don't have to go," Lana stammered. He paused, turning. Lana sat up, pulling the covers up to cover her bosom. She saw that she was still dressed in the white Vallana dress, not that she'd doubted the chivalrous warrior. Her head was spinning slightly, but it felt good to be seated.

"Just a moment, then," said Warrick after a moment. "I mustn't stay long, I don't want to soil your reputation so soon after your arrival." His smile made her laugh, and she pulled her legs up as he took a seat at the edge of her bed.

They looked at each other for what seemed like long seconds. Lana felt small in his presence, mainly because Warrick was so large, with bulging tanned forearms and a broad back. Men of her world didn't get so large, she wondered what they fed these men to make them grow so. She wasn't used to being around such muscular, physically imposing men.

"Is there something about me that makes you stare?" said Warrick, looking at her curiously.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" gasped Lana, her face reddening. "It's the wine, it makes me . . . stare . . . at people."

"I see," said the warrior, nodding and smiling. "it makes you blush as well."

That made Lana blush all the more, as she tried to find a suitable place to set her gaze, avoiding his muscled body, his thick dark hair, and his impossibly deep green eyes. She stared at her hands, where they rested on the bed covering atop her knees.

"Do I make you nervous, Arbiter Torina?"

Lana smiled, still looking down at her hands. She only nodded, without looking at him.

"Then I should go," said the warrior, standing up from the bed. He leaned down to kiss her gently on the forehead. "Goodnight, milady." And then he was gone, leaving her alone. Lana thought of her meditation exercises, but instead she stretched out on the bed. It was slightly firm and immensely comfortable. In seconds she was sound asleep.

As the morning sun cracked the horizon, Warrick and Lamare were discussing the mission with ambassador Veers over an elaborate breakfast.

"Tell me Max," said Warrick, chewing on a piece of bread, "do you think your young Arbiter will be able to pose as a female slave? Because my life may depend on it."

Max gave the two large warriors a helpless look. "I don't know - I mean, one minute she's calm and rational like an Arbiter, the next she's like a teenage girl. You two probably have more experience than I?"

"There is another issue," added Lamare. "It will not be so easy to access Lord Nikos, whether she's convincing or not. He will only admit the girl into inner chambers if he desires her. He has thousands of eager slaves to choose from, why would he pick her?"

Warrick nodded, using a stick of broiled meat as a pointer. "You are correct. I hadn't thought of that. Certainly our Arbiter is pleasing to the eye, but enough to attract Nikos' attention? What if she is not his taste?"

"He should like our Lana," blurted Max, who looked ready to lick his lips. "Did you two see the tits on her, once she was out of her Arbiter robes?"

"What are tits?" said Warrick, not looking at Max as he slathered a heap of butter on the bread in his hand.