Ai No Kusabi Fan Fiction ❯ The Lost Cadre ❯ Chapter 12 ( Chapter 12 )

Author's Notes: Ai no Kusabi and its characters do not belong to me and I make no claim on them. But…. Everybody else IS my own creation that I have plopped down into the Ai no Kusabi world. The things that they do and their interaction with the other characters of Ai no Kusabi are purely my fabrication.

 

Thanks goes to my invaluable betas on this slightly AU endeavour. You guys know who you are. *kisses*

 

Musical Notes: The music I've used here remains the rights of the artists. The list of the songs used for Jolen's performance is as follows:

 

1. We Want Revolution - Covenant

2. Tears - Cruxshadows (Fictional remix)

3. Industrial Love - In Strict Confidence (Funker Vogt/Ravenous remix)

4. Inferior - Flesh Field (SIM mix)

5. Horrible Dream - Ayria

6. The Hand That Feeds - Nine Inch Nails

7. Android - Icon Of Coil (Combichrist mix)

8. Blue Monday - Orgy

9. Master & Servant - Depeche Mode

10. Mine/Beast Of Prey - Project Pitchfork

11. Solitary - VnV Nation (Deathstar Disco remix by Covenant)

12. Love Never Dies - Apoptygma Bezerk

13. Avalost (instrumental) - Seabound

 

Total play time: 1 hour 11 minutes 55 seconds

 

 

The Lost Cadre 12

 

Jolen did some stretches to keep his muscles limber as he waited for the house lights to dim, amazed all over again at how fast things had fallen into place once Lesula had set her hasty plan into motion. Less than a day after he made the initial offer to dance for the Blondies of Amoi, he'd received word that they'd be honoured to have him perform for them. The message had been delivered by Iason Mink, the man who spoke for Jupiter in all things. Jolen smiled to himself after the call ended and wondered if he should offer Lesula a position as his manager. She'd done a phenomenal job in selling the idea of him dancing to the insular Blondies and, more importantly, to the computer that had the final say in whether or not he'd be allowed on the planet. Lesula had most definitely earned the right to have front row seats to the performance he was about to give.

 

To say Iason was attractive would have been an understatement. Jolen had rarely seen a better looking specimen of man. With the exception of some teenage fooling around with his twin, Jolen didn't often find himself attracted to men. Iason was stunning enough to almost make him re-think his position on male lovers until he remembered that Lesula heard rumours that the Blondies didn't engage in sex themselves. Jolen shook his head with a rueful smile. He thought it a terrible waste of a fine looking man.

 

Taking a look over the crowded theatre from his place in the catwalks, Jolen was pleased with the turn out. Considering the short notice, the house was packed. Nearly every head of hair in the vast space was a varied shade of blonde. Jolen hadn't realized that “Blondie” was more than a title but also a physical description. He was starting to wish he'd asked Lesula for more information about the Blondies. He was beginning to understand that the brief info blurb he'd read from a data file had been light on information about the people he was shortly going to be interacting with. Jolen assumed the smattering of other hair colours present were the special guests he'd been told would be attending in addition to the Blondies.

 

“Two minutes, Master Jolen,” said a middle-aged male with a clip board and a headset.

 

Jolen absently noted that the man had medium brown hair and he wondered where the man fit into the Blondie society. The information Jolen had access to revealed that there was a fairly strict class system on Amoi and considering that the stage manager wasn't a blonde, Jolen assumed he had to be either a Pet, a Furniture or a mongrel. Jolen still wasn't very clear on what a Pet, Furniture or mongrel did. The data had been frustratingly vague in stating only that a Pet was for pleasure and Furniture looked after Blondies and Pets. Mongrels weren't even given any explanation.

 

“Thank you, and Jolen is fine. I'm nobody's master, least of all yours.”

 

The man looked startled for a moment before smiling tentatively at Jolen. He'd seen the videos of Jolen Helki from years ago, and never in his wildest dreams thought he'd ever have the chance to see a live performance. The very idea that he was working as the stage manager for Jolen's début show on Amoi… it was nearly more good fortune than the Furniture could comprehend.

 

“I'm hoping to meet a man named Mingan Zenos after the show. Do you think you'd be able to arrange that for me? I wouldn't need more than an hour's time with him.”

 

The Furniture paled slightly at the name but recovered quickly. “I'll see what I can do for you, Mas… Jolen. Thirty seconds to curtain.”

 

Jolen thought the man's reaction to Mingan's name was odd but quickly dismissed it from his mind. He needed to be focused to perform his act even if it was a rushed one and cobbled together from several different performances he'd done over the years. What little information he'd managed to get about Blondies led Jolen to believe that they'd best appreciate a performance that involved beauty, skill, violence and sexual overtones. Jolen decided to go with a modified tale of finding love through hardship and trials as it'd been his experience that everyone seemed to enjoy a story about love conquering impossible odds. He just hoped his performance impressed his audience and gave him the chance to speak with Mingan Zenos as he'd been instructed to.

 

Jolen's opening entrance was a tricky and dangerous move. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly in and out several times to calm his mind and push away everything but the requirements of his performance. Jolen stepped over the edge of the catwalk, gave the red silk cloth a tug and made a slight adjustment to the length of silk wrapped around his waist. He grinned at the stage manager and accepted the curved sword and prop rifle he was handed. The house lights dimmed and Jolen clamped the blade of the sword between his teeth. His opening music started and he let himself fall forward towards the stage thirty feet below him.

 

 

We want revolution....

 

 

A computerized voice boomed out into the theatre. Stage lights flashed off the silver of the blade as Jolen unrolled from the red silk cloth. He came to the end of the cloth ten feet above the stage and dropped the last few feet into a graceful crouch. He slid the curved sword from his mouth and swept the rifle across the crowd. Heavy bass music pounded through the sound system as Jolen began the first part of his performance.

 

 

We want revolution; constant evolution.

Start your engines; blow your fuses.

Burn your bridges for the future.

This is our solution.

 

 

Mingan knew he wasn't the only Blondie staring in shock at the man moving around the stage. The lyrics were skirting what Jupiter would allow as references to the failed rebellion and the incident at Dana Burn but that wasn't the only thing raising Blondie eye brows. The man on the stage was entirely blue. He was also moving with a fluid grace in what Mingan thought looked like modified martial arts moves but ones unlike anything he'd ever seen. His eyes tracked the man's movements and marvelled at the grace Jolen was displaying. Once the Blondies in the theatre got over the scandal of the lyrics, Mingan could hear them murmuring in appreciation at the show being put on for them. Mingan found himself regretting that Sevilen hadn't been able to accompany him. His Pet would have greatly enjoyed the show.

 

At the end of the first song, a group of dancers in military gear moved onto the stage and cornered Jolen. They surrounded him, hiding him from view but not before the sword he'd wielded with such skill went spinning from his hand to embed itself point first in the floor of the stage. It swayed back and forth slowly like a pendulum. The lights dimmed briefly before coming back up when the next piece of music started.

 

 

Come, bring back now can't explain; the measures swept away in pain.

Hatred, will I escape your grasp?

Buried feelings let me pass.

 

 

Raoul watched the dancer with wide eyes. He'd never seen anyone move like Jolen. The stage had large metal poles to simulate prison bars and Jolen was moving between them as he dodged the dancers that'd “captured” him at the end of the first piece. Raoul was quick to note that Jolen's shirt was now open, and what he'd first took as a helmet was actually a braid of hair wrapped around his head that was starting to come loose.

 

Jolen swung around the poles, eluding the other dancers with an air of eroticism to his movements. His escape was abruptly cut off when several of the other dancers caught his arms and held him while he struggled and cried out from a very realistic looking caning administered by the other dancers. The Blondies in the audience murmured approval. Jolen raised his head, pain etched on his face. He locked eyes with a lone dancer standing slightly apart from the ones administering his caning. Jolen lifted his hand towards the dancer as the dancer took a step towards him. The dancer stopped as if suddenly realizing what he was doing, whirled around, and slipped off into the wings. Despair settled on Jolen's face and he curled his body as the other dancers surrounded him and sounds of a cane striking flesh cracked through the theatre.

 

Raoul shifted in his seat, the erection springing to life in his pants making him uncomfortable. Zesiro laughed softly near his ear and the tip of his tail rubbed suggestively over Raoul's cock.

 

 

Industrial love is turning our hearts to stone.

Industrial love is keeping mankind alone.

Mankind as machine…

 

 

Zesiro continued to tease Raoul's cock although his attention was on the blue-skinned dancer on stage. He'd kept his gaze riveted on the man from the moment he realized Jolen was doing some Lua H'te moves that only an Awh'anise trained in military warfare should know. The moves were a closely held Awh'anise military secret. Zesiro was intensely curious where the dancer could've learned them and from whom since Jolen was very good and that spoke of the skill of his teacher as well as several years worth of learning and training to perfect the movements.

 

The part of the performance Jolen was doing now was more of pure dance than the previous martial arts inspired sets. Jolen moved across the stage, concentrating on the feelings of being trapped and alone in a prison, putting his emotions into his steps. He spun and leapt, his hair falling a little further undone, his shirt now in tatters on his back from the caning in the previous set. The lone dancer was back and watching Jolen intently as he moved fluidly across the stage. Jolen approached the dancer, entreating him, a pleading expression on his face. The dancer leaned towards Jolen, a hand coming up to caress his face. Jolen's face reflected naked hope before the dancer dropped his hand and walked away without a backward glance. Jolen hung his head and slowly sank to his knees.

 

 

We own today; we own tomorrow.

We own everything you are.

We took your lives and we'll never let go; until you become what we want you to be.

 

 

Iason watched the blue-skinned dancer and a rare smile teased his mouth as he thought Riki would certainly have enjoyed this performance so far. The Blondie was actually quite surprised that Jupiter was allowing the show to continue on as it was. The material seemed to almost urge insurrection. Although, given what Iason had seen thus far, the rebel that Jolen was portraying was paying for his earlier defiance.

 

The stage was now set to look like an elaborate Pet house. Jolen was being artfully manhandled by the dancers. His arms were pulled behind his back, arching his body backwards to expose his tight stomach muscles. The other dancers fondled his body, their hands sliding over his belly and between his legs to grope him. Jolen's arms were eventually released and he was pushed forward until he was bent double and his chest was touching his thighs, his hands gripping his ankles. His ass was soundly spanked much to the delight of the Blondies in the audience. Jolen was released from that humiliating position only to have his feet kicked apart and a dancer push down on his shoulders, forcing him into doing the splits. More than a few of the audience members winced even as they marvelled at Jolen's flexibility. All the while that Jolen was pushed and pulled into positions by the dancers; they fondled and groped his toned body.

 

The dancers further commanded Jolen into contortions, making him hold his position for long seconds that taxed the body while showing off the sleek line of muscle. They had him perform tumbling passes as if he were a trained circus animal. The slightest hesitation on Jolen's part was corrected by the sharp strike of a crop wielded by a dancer. By the end of the song, a broken, dejected air hung about Jolen. His feet were bare; his shirt gone and his pants beginning to look a little worse for wear.

 

The lone dancer appeared suddenly and yanked Jolen from the group that'd been forcing him to perform. Pet chains dangled from the dancer's hand. He dropped them to the floor and waited until Jolen picked them up and snap them into place himself. A sharp tug had Jolen following the dancer from the stage.

 

Iason gave a soft snort. If only a rebellious Pet were actually that easy to break.

 

 

Diffuse it; destroy it.

Abuse it and enjoy it.

This horrible dream; a horrible nightmare.

A wonderful dream; a wonderful nightmare.

 

 

Several Blondies in the audience were leaning forward in their seats. They'd expected something along the lines of a classical dance routine that would be nice to watch and discuss over the next gathering. What they were seeing was so much better. Jolen put on a show that combined some of the Blondies most loved things; art, music, beauty, violence and sexuality. Given his exotic looks and the fact that as the show went on, he was revealing more and more skin in a blatantly teasing manner; the Blondies could easily see why he was still sought after as a performer even at his age.

 

A collective oh sounded when Jolen appeared not in fancy Pet chains but in sturdy shackles, his pants reduced to shorts that hugged his firm ass. His braid was finally free from the pins holding it up and the tip brushed his ankles. He was spun between the dancers, his chains chiming together as he moved. People in the audience leaned further forward in their seats or pulled out opera glasses in an effort to see if what they thought they were seeing on stage was really happening. From all appearances, it looked like Jolen was servicing the dancers as they abused his body with crops and whips. The pleasure on their faces was in direct contrast to the look of helpless horror and reluctant arousal on Jolen's face when he turned to face the audience. He scanned the stage but the lone dancer didn't appear. Jolen's movements became mechanical and his shoulders sagged as he seemed to do whatever he was commanded.

 

When the lights dimmed at the end of the song, a murmur of protest rose through the theatre.

 

 

Will you bite the hand that feeds?

Will you chew until it bleeds?

Can you get up off your knees?

Are you brave enough to see?

Do you want to change it?

 

 

Jolen stood in the center of the stage and gripped the chains around his wrists. He'd argued for over an hour with the stage director the previous day about this part of his show. It hadn't been until he showed the man what he intended to do that he'd finally agreed to the use of the androids instead of the regular dancers. Jolen waited for his cue and snapped out with the chains that were supposed to be keeping him captive.

 

The chains wrapped around the torsos' of two androids and Jolen yanked. The droids crashed to the stage and lay still as they'd been programmed to do. If they'd been human, the chains would have broken their ribs and the jagged ends of bone pierced their lungs. Jolen began whirling the chains around his body, taking out the androids one after another in moves of deadly grace until Jolen was the only one left standing on the stage. He stared out at the audience, defiance plain in his face and wrenched the chains from his wrists. Jolen threw the chains to the floor and stalked off the stage.

 

The house lights came up and the Blondies murmured in surprise. They'd expected the show to be longer than what they'd just seen. They were also unsatisfied that it seemed like a rebel turned Pet was beating the system and going free. The Blondies quieted when Jolen appeared back on stage a few minutes later holding a microphone.

 

“When I do a show I usually ask a member of the audience to come up on stage with me for one song. Because of the short notice of my performance here on Amoi, the usual process I use to choose couldn't be followed. So, if there's anyone out here who'd like to join me for the next piece, please stand up.”

 

The Blondies in the audience whispered amongst themselves. They much preferred to watch what others did than participate themselves in a show; regardless of how good that show was proving to be. Several of the dignitaries wanted to stand but weren't sure if they should or not when their Blondie hosts weren't standing.

 

“You don't have to do much of anything. I'll be doing all the work,” Jolen said with a smile while he wondered why none of the Blondies were standing. People usually fought over the privilege of joining him on stage. If nobody wanted to join him, he'd still continue with his performance but use one of the dancers in place of an audience member.

 

“I'm in,” Zesiro said standing and walking to the stage. Raoul hissed at Zesiro to sit down, trying and failing to grab his lover's arm. Zesiro leaped easily up onto the stage and smiled with a little more teeth than was strictly polite among the Awh'anise.

 

Jolen blinked in surprise. What was an Awh'anise doing on Amoi? Jolen's eyes widened when he saw the Neksha around the redhead's neck. Habit had him touch his left temple with two fingers and give the man in front of him a little head dip.

 

“Noru Shal-hazal, you honour me with your presence,” Jolen said with a smile that showed as much teeth as he'd been initially shown. One never backed down from any aggressive displays with an Awh'anise.

 

Zesiro narrowed his eyes at Jolen. Recognizing a Shal-hazal on sight and knowing the proper greeting of an unknown Shal-hazal told Zesiro the man in front of him had more than a drop of Awh'anise blood in him. The man was, at the very least, half Awh'anise. Physically, Jolen had the same elliptical pupils as Zesiro and those were most definitely fangs he'd seen in the dancer's mouth when he smiled.

 

“Sha or sho?” Zesiro asked curiously.

 

Jolen grinned. He loved answering this question from a Shal-hazal simply for the shock value. “Sho. Shal-hazal Warrior Litch-Hunter Nal'ger Sunki, retired. If you like, we can speak after the show but the natives are getting restless.”

 

Zesiro snapped shut his mouth that had dropped open in surprise at the name of Jolen's mother. No wonder Jolen knew Lau H'te as well as he did. His mother was legend among the Shal-hazal. The question now buzzing Zesiro's brain was what the hell Jolen was doing on Amoi at this particular time.

 

“Follow my lead. I think this will be much more interesting than I'd originally planned,” Jolen said with a grin that spoke to the trouble causing Awh'anise standing in front of him. Zesiro couldn't help but return the mischievous look. Jolen inclined his head and hurried from the stage, Zesiro trailing after him.

 

 

Will we fight it? Will we play?

Will we start all over again?

Well we'd better do something; I'm losing this game again.

 

 

The house lights dimmed and the stage was lit once again. Zesiro had his hand wrapped around a length of chain connected to a collar Jolen was wearing. The expression on Jolen's face was one of sulky defiance. A pleased murmur floated around the theatre. Zesiro smirked and jerked on the chain so that Jolen stumbled into him. Jolen bared his teeth at Zesiro and shoved him hard in the chest, sweeping a foot behind the Awh'anise. Zesiro landed on his ass and a surprised grunt left him. He looked up into Jolen's face and saw amusement and pleasure there. The Shal-hazal yanked on the chain, bringing them almost nose to nose and grabbed Jolen's thick braid of hair.

 

“You sure you wanna play with me like that?” Zesiro asked in a whisper against Jolen's lips.

 

“I always give a good show. I've heard Blondies like sex and violence. Come play with me, Shal-hazal,” Jolen answered just as quietly before scratching shallow furrows into Zesiro's chest with his talons. Zesiro released Jolen's hair and gave the dancer a toothy grin.

 

The growl Zesiro let rumble from his chest was heard by many of the Blondies in the first few rows of the theatre. Raoul swore under his breath. He knew what that sound meant. Zesiro was going to fight and he was aroused. Having been on the receiving end of one of Zesiro's more serious fights that had turned sexual, Raoul wondered if Amoi would be held responsible for any injuries done to the dancer since neither Zesiro nor Jolen were citizens of Amoi.

 

Mingan responded to the sound of aggression Zesiro made and tensed in his seat, wondering if he was going to have to step in and save the dancer from Zesiro. He knew from personal experience that the Awh'anise was wickedly fast. The dancer seemed to know a few moves that appeared martial and he did move with a fluid grace but he doubted the dancer would be a match against the Awh'anise. Mingan kept to his seat deciding that if it appeared Zesiro was getting too violent, he'd take to the stage and snatch Jolen from Zesiro.

 

Zesiro kept the chain wrapped around his fist as he'd been instructed and used it to reel Jolen in. Every time he got within grabbing range, Jolen would bend his body or move in such a way so that the only thing Zesiro caught was air or the stray strand of hair. The Shal-hazal was impressed with the modifications Jolen had made to the basic steps of Lau H'te, turning it into a true dance of graceful death. For all that he found it frustrating, Zesiro was thoroughly enjoying himself. He hadn't had the opportunity to play like this since he'd been home. Raoul was certainly strong enough and hardy enough to fight with, but the man wasn't trained in martial arts. Jolen was an entirely different case.

 

Realizing holding the chain wasn't helping him any, Zesiro decided to ignore the instructions he'd been given and let go of it. He slowly circled Jolen looking for an opening to launch an attack. Jolen smirked and quickly wrapped the length of chain around one arm. He knew that eventually the Shal-hazal would win. A full-blooded Awh'anise against anything less than another full-blood in unarmed combat was a losing proposition. Considering that Jolen intended to lose to Zesiro to segue into the next part of his show, he decided to step up the pace. On his next pass, Jolen reached out and caught Zesiro's tail, gliding his hand down easily half the length. Zesiro whipped around in a blur of speed that made the people in the audience gasp in surprise. Zesiro growled in frustration and arousal when his fingers just missed Jolen once again.

 

“Xa' madna,” Zesiro said in a low voice that still managed to travel in the theatre.

 

Raoul gripped the arm rests of his seat. He very clearly remembered what that phrase meant. The dancer was in deep trouble now and so was Amoi if Zesiro pressed the issue. Somehow, Raoul was fairly certain Jolen wouldn't look very kindly on being fucked on stage in front of a crowded theatre. No matter how titillating that thought was to the Blondie.

 

Jolen judged the song was nearly over. He knew exactly what he was doing when he'd grabbed Zesiro's tail. Just for good measure, Jolen stroked it several more times working the Awh'anise up into a state of high arousal. He was glad as he was finding it harder and harder to stay out of Zesiro's grasp as it gave his performance an even greater air of realism. He'd also managed to push the Awh'anise into uttering the phrase he'd been waiting to hear. On his final pass, Jolen deliberately stepped too close to Zesiro, allowing the man to snag him and jerk him to his chest. Lust was plain in the Awh'anise's eyes and Jolen could feel the man's cock digging into his hip. Zesiro pulled Jolen's head back by his braid, exposing his throat in a long line. Sharp fangs nipped the delicate skin.

 

“Xa' madna,” Zesiro growled loud enough for most of the audience to hear him.

 

The stage lights flicked off and sounds of protest moved through the theatre at being denied what looked like a highly charged sexual encounter. Jolen waited for a few seconds before speaking in a whisper near Zesiro's ear.

 

“Tay, Noru Shal-hazal.”

 

Zesiro shuddered and gave a pained groan at the same time that he shoved Jolen from him. He marched from the stage, need and violence coming off him in waves. Jolen felt a little guilty at pushing the Awh'anise to such a state and then denying him but the performance between the two of them had been spectacular. Jolen made a mental note to send both a thank you and an apology to the Shal-hazal after he'd finished his business on Amoi. When the stage lights came up again, Jolen was ringed by dancers.

 

 

How does it feel?

To treat me like you do?

When you lay your hands upon me and told me who you are.

 

 

Jolen writhed around on stage using the other dancers to enhance the eroticism of his show. The lone dancer was back and stood motionless, watching the other dancers simulating a sex act with Jolen. Jolen made sure that, as the song progressed, his moves became more of an enticement for the lone dancer who watched him intently. He kept his eyes fixed on the lone dancer even as it appeared that his body was being used to satisfy the other dancers' needs. At the end of the song, the lone dancer finally moved to Jolen and pulled him from the group he was being passed around. Jolen smirked at the dancer holding him in a clearly possessive grip and followed willing when the dancer stalked off the stage with him.

 

 

It's a lot like life,

This play between the sheets.

With you on top and me underneath.

Forget all about equality.

Let's play master and servant

 

 

Jolen and the lone dancer re-appeared on stage creating a silhouette behind a backlit gauzy curtain. The audience watched as one figure appeared to whip another before drawing them close for a kiss. One of the figures pushed away and attempted to run only to be caught and punished again for trying to flee. After several attempts at escape, the audience realized they were watching an erotic game being played out and a murmur of pleasure flowed through the theatre. Before long, the two figures were moving against each other, thrusting and grinding to the beat of the music. The music reached a crescendo at the same time as the dancers behind the curtain. Soft sighs of appreciation from the audience turned into whispered questions as several dancers moved quietly towards the couple wrapped in each other's arms. The intruders were nearly upon the couple when the stage darkened.

 

 

Stop searching.

Hell is already here.

Yes we made it happen.

Worst than any beast of prey.

 

 

Jolen appeared on stage again, his movements furtive. A long knife was clutched in his hand. His hair was nearly unbound and only a loin cloth covered his groin. The lone dancer stood off to one side of the stage, oblivious to Jolen stalking him. Jolen was using Lau H'te moves again as he inched closer to his target. Every now and again, a dancer would appear and Jolen would quickly and quietly take the dancer out. The closer he moved to the lone dancer, the more Jolen let his Awh'anise side reign. He bared his fangs and extended his talons as far as they'd go. Jolen smirked a little at the thought that if he'd also inherited a tail from his mother, the image of a beast of prey would have been even better.

 

A murmur rose from the Blondies in the audience, words of warning to the dancer rippling through the crowd. The dancer jerked his head up and half turned just as Jolen pounced. The Blondies gasped as Jolen barrelled into the dancer and ah-ed in surprise when he turned so that he crashed to the stage on his back, holding the dancer safe in his arms. The knife he'd held arced into the air to land with a solid thud at the feet of a group of dancers that materialized from the shadows of the stage. Jolen rolled to his feet, grabbed the dancer's hand and fled the stage, the remaining dancers giving chase.

 

 

With this line I mark the past

As a symbol of beginning

I have no doubt from what I have seen

I have never wanted more

 

 

Jolen and the lone dancer appeared on stage again. They stared off into the distance for several seconds before looking at each other and smiling softly. The danced around the stage, joy and laughter in their movements. The dance was teasing and playful, and every time they moved close to each other, the time it took for them to separate was longer and longer. They eventually made their way off the stage together, their intent obvious and causing several members of the audience to lean forward in their seats.

 

 

Forever in your arms

You said forever in my heart

My love for you will make us both climb higher

 

 

Jolen and the lone dancer were back on stage behind a series of gauzy curtains that billowed softly in a breeze. Tantalizing shots of the two of them were glimpsed when the curtains moved. Most of the audience was sure they were seeing Jolen and the lover he'd escaped from Pet status with having sex. Jolen looked to be riding his lover in a show of sexual excess that the Blondies could almost discern.

 

Curiosity made Mingan slowly inhale, the blue lines on his skin flickering briefly. He laughed softly at himself when he realized that, even with Jupiter's help, he'd never be able to pick up the subtle scent of desire from the people on stage with so many people in the room who'd been turned on by Jolen's performance. The man gave a damn fine performance and Mingan wanted to meet him to tell him so.

 

Raoul's gaze was riveted to the stage. His body hummed with desire and he was grateful he had Zesiro staying with him. The Blondie figured he was going to make good use of the Shal-hazal's sexual stamina when they got home. Zesiro had come back to their seats shortly after the lights had dimmed on his performance with Jolen. A rough, growly purr had been almost inaudible coming from Zesiro and the first thing the Awh'anise had done upon sitting down was kiss Raoul with barely simmering passion and aggression. Raoul shot a quick glance at his lover and smiled. Energy almost poured off Zesiro. His tail tip lashed against his leg and his talons retracted and extended. To say that the Awh'anise was primed for a nice, long romp in bed was the understatement of the week. Raoul wondered if Jolen would appreciate a bottle of the very nice, fifty year old red wine in his cellar in thanks for working his lover up into such a state. When Raoul thought about the new toy Zesiro had promised they'd play with if the Awh'anise was allowed to attend the performance, Raoul smirked to himself and decided that the one hundred year old cognac would be a more fitting gift to Jolen for what he'd done to work Zesiro up into such a state of arousal.

 

Iason wished that the curtains would part so he could clearly see the action on stage even as he appreciated the artistic elements. A tiny smile twitched his lips when he thought of what he'd do with his own wild Pet when he got home. Iason idly wondered how much convincing it'd take to have Jolen stay a few more days. He'd done a little research, and knew the man could sing as well as dance. He was curious to hear him live as he reasoned that if the man's live dance performance far outstripped the recorded versions, a concert of him singing would likely produce the same kind of result. Iason also thought that Riki would be pleased about both seeing and hearing Jolen perform. His Pet enjoyed music, and Iason smirked slightly when he thought of exactly how Riki would show appreciation for a gift like that.

 

The music reached a crescendo and two voices rang out over the instruments. One a shout of completion and the other an eerie near howl that sent a shiver over the audience. The stage went dark and the house lights came up. Silence stretched for several seconds then Jolen appeared on stage wearing only a loin cloth looking slightly flushed, his hair a wild tangle around him. He had the look of someone called from their lover's bed and the Blondies loved it. Jolen bowed deeply and extended his arms out to encompass the dancers who'd walked out on stage behind him and helped him put on the show. Applause thundered through the packed house. Jolen waited until the sound died down a little before bringing a microphone up

 

“Thank you very much. I hope you've enjoyed the show, it was a pleasure to perform here on Amoi for all of you.”

 

Calls for an encore echoed through the theatre until Jolen raised his hand for quiet. On one of his hurried changes in the wings, the stage manager had told him that he'd been unable to get an audience with Mingan. Jolen had shrugged and decided that at the end of his performance he'd make a plea to get himself the meeting he'd been sent to Amoi to have.

 

“Since you've been a very appreciative audience, I'll do one more song. I do have a slight condition to it though. There's a man by the name of Mingan Zenos in the audience and I have a message I've been asked to deliver to him. As long as this man agrees to meet with me, I'll give all of you one hell of a finale.”

 

Dead silence greeted Jolen's words. Mingan narrowed his eyes at Jolen and stood, his suspicions about the timing of Jolen's arrival on Amoi returning stronger than ever. He was about to speak when a wave of startled voices made him turn to look up the aisle. Striding down towards him was someone he'd begun to doubt he'd ever see again.

 

“How?” Mingan said in surprise, moving to meet his fellow Cadre member.

 

“Been a long time, hasn't it? Interesting Pet you've gotten yourself. Sloppy security though. You should do something about that. All kinds of undesirables could get into your house.”

 

The two men smiled in genuine pleasure and wrapped each other in tight hugs. The Blondies in the crowd whispered in shock at seeing a man nearly the mirror image of Mingan. Zesiro nudged Raoul sharply in the ribs.

 

“What's up with the twins and why do all the Blondies in the audience seem ready to pop a blood vessel?”

 

“I don't know who he is. I had no idea there was another man like Mingan.”

 

Zesiro leered at Raoul. “Twincest is so fucking hot, don't you think?”

 

Raoul stared at Zesiro and shook his head refusing to dwell on the very, very naughty thoughts the Awh'anise stirred to life in his mind.

 

Akando smiled at Mingan. He looked mostly the same as he did the last time they'd seen each other fifty years ago. His hair was a lot longer, and when Akando tucked stray strands behind Mingan's ear, he saw the sides were shaved. Mingan looked surprised to see him, and Akando wondered why when the note he'd found had been signed with Mingan's initials. Something strange was definitely going on.

 

“Should I assume one of you gentlemen is Mingan Zenos?” Jolen asked from his position on the stage. The men exchanged subtle glances with each other and nodded as one to his question. “Then, if I dance one more time, which ever one of you is Mingan, will you grant me a few moments of your time to pass on the message I have for you?”

 

Akando slid a look at Mingan. His brother was radiating tension although he probably looked perfectly calm to everybody else. Something was going on, and the strange words of Mingan's odd little Pet floated through Akando's mind. Akando knew his brother wouldn't be reacting as he was if something hadn't led up to this. Whatever it was, Akando was confident he and Mingan could handle it. They were Cadre after all.

 

“Dance, and if you please us, we'll listen to what you have to say,” Akando said in a dismissive tone, paying little attention to the dancer.

 

Jolen opened his mouth to tell the rather rude man that he only wanted to speak with Mingan. He snapped his mouth closed when he realized he wasn't entirely sure which of the two men it was. The resemblance between them was enough to mark them as twins. Jolen shrugged and decided that it really didn't matter who was with Mingan when he asked about Sevilen. The two were obviously brothers and Jolen respected the closeness that siblings shared.

 

“All right. Please be seated and enjoy,” Jolen said with a little nod before turning and leaving the stage, ushering the dancers ahead of him.

 

Mingan led the way back to his seat. A simple look from him at the Blondie occupying the seat next to his had the young man hurriedly moving for Akando to sit down. Akando smirked at the Blondie's back and settled himself into the seat. He didn't care about the encore, but Mingan seemed to want to know what the strange man wanted to tell him. Agreeing to watch a dance performance was a small enough thing to do to help Mingan out.

 

“How did you send that note to me and why?” Akando asked in a voice lower than any normal Blondie would be able to hear. He was startled when a finger traced down his neck and a man leaned into his space, brushing their cheeks together.

 

“I had you write the note down when I visited you while you were sleeping. That's one of my talents and I did it because my Vi'deshron asked me to. Any chance of me watching you two screw each other? Bet it'd be fucking hot.”

 

“Zesiro!” Raoul gasped in shock. He'd known it was a mistake to bring the man anywhere that manners might be needed.

 

Akando's hand shot out to catch Zesiro's wrist, surprise registering on his face when he caught nothing but air. Zesiro grinned and fingered a strand of Akando's metallic silver hair. While nowhere near as long as Mingan's, the Shal-hazal thought it was just as pretty.

 

“Ignore him. I certainly try to,” Mingan said with a frown. “He's trouble on two legs.”

 

“Yeah, I am. Keeps life interesting,” Zesiro said with a small laugh. “Kinda like how it's interesting that Jolen is half Awh'anise. His mother is a legend among the Shal-hazal and he shows up now with a message for you. You mind if I hang around for that conversation Jolen wants to have with you? After all, it might have something to do with Sevilen, and as his Shal-hazal; it's my duty to watch out for him.”

 

“Sevilen is none of your concern. He is my Pet and mine to keep safe,” Mingan said with a scowl.

 

“Sevilen is my concern,” Zesiro insisted in a serious voice.

 

Mingan made a frustrated sound in his throat. “I doubt it'd make any difference if I said no, would it?”

 

“No, not really. I was only trying to be polite,” Zesiro said with a broad smile, satisfied he'd made his point. He sat back in his seat.

 

Akando watched the exchange with a little frown. He'd never known Mingan to behave this way. The Mingan he remembered never let anyone talk him into doing things he didn't want to do. Akando wondered if the intervening years had made his brother go soft. He was about to question Mingan when the house lights dimmed and music started. Akando turned his attention to the stage.

 

Jolen appeared on the stage again. The music he was dancing to was an instrumental piece that he loved. Jolen had helped Jenlen compose it and hadn't danced to it since their last performance together nearly twenty years ago. He had no idea why the idea to use this piece had come to him for his encore but, it felt right. Jolen wondered idly if the urge to use the piece was the result of the fire snake that'd appeared to him in his dream and instructed him to come to Amoi in the first place. He wouldn't put it past the creature considering how it seemed like it'd meddled in not only his life but that of his brother, Jenlen as well.

 

Jolen moved with fluid grace over the stage. He leapt impossibly high and twisted his body sinuously. The music moved through him, filling him with fond memories of performing with Jenlen while adding a sense of melancholy at not knowing what had become of his twin. Jolen pushed his tired body to the limits. He knew he needed to impress the silver-haired men to be able to speak to them. After travelling as far as he had, Jolen wasn't about to let a little thing like weary muscles stop him.

 

Akando was leaning forward in his seat gripping the arm rests. While he hadn't paid much attention to the dancer initially, he did now. He'd never seen anything so heart breaking yet so beautiful at the same time. The emotions the dancer was putting into his performance were stunning and Akando was suddenly sorry that he'd missed the rest of the show. The way the dancer moved was elegant and erotic. There was something vaguely familiar about the dancer, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. The longer he watched, the more interested Akando became. He'd never seen anyone move as the dancer did and was surprised to find himself responding strongly to the dancer on a physical level. A slow smile graced Akando's face and he relaxed back into his seat, his mind made up. While the dancer was past the age that his typical Pets were, he was utterly fascinating. The dancer was going to be his.

 

With a final spin, Jolen collapsed artfully to the stage, breathing hard. He hid a wry smile against his arm. He'd let himself get slack if dancing one encore put him out of breath. Jolen made a mental note to increase his daily workout routine. Thunderous applause filled the concert hall and Jolen pushed himself to his feet. He bowed deeply and smiled at the crowd. There was no doubt in his mind that he'd get to speak with the man he'd been sent to speak to. His performance had been flawless.

 

Akando stood when Mingan did. Even if Mingan hadn't wanted to speak with the dancer, Akando would've gone to find him back stage. He had a Pet to claim after all. Even for a man obviously past the first blush of youth, Akando believed that, if the dancer could move like he'd just done, he'd be a most interesting bed partner. A grin stretched across Akando's face and he nudged Mingan to move. The two Cadre members made their way to the stage and stood in front of Jolen. Zesiro sauntered after the two Blondies and stood slightly off to the side. Akando noticed the puzzled look the dancer gave the irritating alien and wondered if there was already some kind of claim on the dancer. Akando shrugged his shoulders. It didn't matter. He was Cadre and everybody bowed to his wishes.

 

“You said you have a message for me?” Mingan said as he crossed his arms.

 

“I do but, are you sure you want to hear this on a stage in front of all these nice people?” Jolen said with the beginnings of a smile.

 

“I find the timing of this message suspicious given some of the things that have been going. I also find it highly suspicious given what I've just learned of your background. Tell me what you came all this way to say.”

 

Jolen shrugged. “I was told in a dream, by a giant silver and red fire snake, that I was to come to Amoi and talk to a man named Mingan Zenos. I was to tell this man that I was here to see Sevilen and that Sevilen is family.”

 

“Holy fucking shit! Are you serious? You had one of those creatures visit you? Are you a Spirit class Shal-hazal?” Zesiro asked as he elbowed Mingan out of the way.

 

“Me?” Jolen laughed. “No, noru Shal-hazal. I bear the Neksha but I'm not Shal-hazal. My twin also bore the mark, but he wasn't Shal-hazal either although, he did dream.”

 

“Sevilen is a Vi'deshron. My Vi'deshron. How exactly are you related to him? I can see a bit of him in you. Are you his sha?” Zesiro asked.

 

Jolen's eyes widened. He knew what a Vi'deshron was. He'd heard the stories from his mother about them. He frowned when he realized that Sevilen had been referred to as male. As far as Jolen knew, Vi'deshron were never male.

 

“Sevilen is my Pet. He's not going anywhere,” Mingan said in a low voice as unease curled in his belly. If Jolen really was related to Sevilen, he could conceivably demand Sevilen be handed over and there'd be nothing Mingan could do about it.

 

Akando's expression didn't change, but he was surprised at the level of possession in Mingan's voice when he mentioned his Pet. His brother seemed upset over the idea of a family member suddenly showing up and Akando wasn't sure why. Pets were readily available and he was sure there were dozens of Pets that could take the place of the one Mingan currently had. Akando mentally shrugged. If this one Pet was that important to Mingan, he'd do what he could to help. That his idea of helping also involved taking the dancer claiming kinship as his own Pet made Akando smile to himself.

 

“I didn't say he was going anywhere. I was instructed to ask to speak to him and tell you that we were family,” Jolen turned to Zesiro. “He's not my son, noru Shal-hazal. He could be a cousin or even possibly, my brother Jenlen's. I don't know. That's all the information I have. I really would like to suggest we move this conversation to a more private location. Sound carries quite nicely on this stage and we seem to have gathered a small audience.”

 

Mingan jerked his head around and squinted against the lights focused on the stage. Several Blondies were watching the conversation on the stage with open interest. He swore under his breath and waved Jolen on. Jolen nodded his head at Mingan and gestured to the wings.

 

“We can continue this in my dressing room if you'd like. I need to dress and remove some of this make-up.”

 

“Your blue skin and hair is a make-up effect?” Akando asked with a tiny thread of disappointment in his voice. He'd been looking forward to the exotic nature of having a lover with such unusual skin and hair colour.

 

“Nope. That's all me. My father's side of the family is a species in shades of blues and greens. I turned out pale blue while Jenlen was pale green,” Jolen said with a soft laugh as he gestured for Mingan, Akando and Zesiro to precede him from the stage.

 

Mingan's insides turned cold. Sevilen had faintly green skin. Now that Mingan was standing so close to Jolen, he could see that his Pet and Jolen shared the exact same eyes. The likelihood that they were closely related was becoming stronger and stronger with every word Jolen uttered. Fear settled like a lump in Mingan's gut. This stranger was simply not going to be allowed to take Sevilen away. Not when Mingan had come to the realization that he loved his Pet. Sevilen was his.

 

Jolen was turning to follow the Blondies and the Awh'anise from the stage when he heard a popping noise and something hit him hard in the shoulder, spinning him around from the force of the blow. He heard a man curse loudly and felt the vibrations of someone running across the stage. Jolen cried out in surprise as pain bloomed from the point of impact and he went down on one knee. He swore when a hand fisted in his long, unbound hair and jerked his head up. He caught sight of an older man from the corner of his eye before pain radiated from the side of his head and his world turned black.

 

Screams erupted in the concert hall at the sound of gun fire and a mad dash started for the exits. Mingan and Akando spun to face a man dressed in the clothes of a Furniture holding a now limp Jolen by the hair. The Furniture held a pistol and gave the two Blondies a savage grin.

 

“Don't know which one of you is Mingan, but I figure I just got lucky. Got me a two for one deal and maybe I'll get a bonus for this. Time to die, Cadre.”

 

Blue flashed over the marks on both Mingan and Akando's skin. A low rumble sounded from Mingan and his eyes gleamed with a feral intensity. Akando's form wavered and seemed to disappear. The man holding the pistol stared in confusion for precious seconds before he managed to get a series of wild shots off. He was knocked off his feet by a humanoid-shaped blur at almost the same time he fired the last of the shots. Zesiro straddled the man's chest, fingers of one hand locked around his throat while the other pinned the hand with the pistol to the stage. A snarl pulled his lips back from his teeth exposing his fangs.

 

“Don't kill him yet,” Mingan commanded in a deep voice.

 

Akando reappeared next to Jolen and carefully untangled the man's fingers from the dancer's long hair. His eyes narrowed in irritation. Nobody but another Cadre member was allowed to touch his Pet. His lip curled and he casually flicked his fist out to the man's knee. A muffled scream of pain escaped the would-be assassin and his body bucked at the agony of having his knee smashed. Satisfied that he'd reprimanded the Furniture for touching what was his, Akando picked Jolen up and stepped slightly back to allow his brother room to work. It was when he was holding Jolen that he noticed the dancer was bleeding from a shoulder wound to his back. Akando scowled and kicked the man's shattered knee, making the man scream again and writhe in pain.

 

“Would you quit fucking doing that,” Zesiro growled at Akando. “I damn near opened his throat when he squirmed around and we haven't questioned him yet.”

 

“Only Cadre is allowed to touch my Pet,” Akando said in a calm voice as he hefted Jolen in his arms.

 

Zesiro snorted and rolled his eyes. “I'm sure Jolen will have something to say about that when he wakes up. In the mean time, stop randomly taking shots at this guy and let me and Mingan have a little playtime with this piece of trash.”

 

Mingan leaned over the man and gave him a wolfish grin. “Yes, we do need you to answer a few questions. Who sent you and why do they want me dead?”

 

“He'll kill me if I talk. I don't know why he wants you dead,” the man said in a shaky voice.

 

“He's not here right now. I am. I'm sure I'll have some very willing help to force the answer out of you. The guy sitting on your chest with his claws around your throat? He thinks pain is fun. The one who broke your knee is my brother, and I'd say he's a little upset with you trying to take a shot at us. I don't think he liked the fact that you shot Jolen either. I actually like to hurt those who try to hurt me. I'll make you wish you were dead long before that actually happens. The last person who was stupid enough to try to kill me and failed lost his head. Do you know how hard it is to rip a person's head off with your bare hands?” Mingan asked in a conversational tone as he grabbed the man's free hand.

 

“You really ripped a guy's head off with your bare hands? Colour me impressed,” Zesiro said with respect in his voice.

 

“Maybe now you'll stop irritating me every chance you get,” Mingan said with a pointed look as he played with the assassin's fingers gently.

 

Zesiro snorted with laughter. “I can put my fist through nearly an inch of steel. You don't scare me. Arouse me, sure. Scare? Not in this life time. I bet you'd make me hurt really good.”

 

The would-be assassin started to shake from a combination of fear and shock. Even if the assignment had gotten him away from the insanity of living in Ejnar's household, it wasn't worth the pain he knew was shortly coming his way. He was proved correct when the big Blondie holding his hand casually crushed his fingers. The man screamed and thrashed under the alien holding him down, succeeding only in gouging furrows in his skin from the man's claws.

 

“Stars, will the two of you stop doing shit like that. I nearly took out his throat again. Have you guys never tortured somebody as a team?” Zesiro asked with a scowl as he shifted his grip to the man's shoulders, pushing his thumb through the flesh and hooking it under the collar bone. The man under him screamed again and made gagging noises in his throat.

 

Akando raised his eyebrow at the alien, impressed. Apparently, there was more to him that he'd first thought. He wondered briefly what the alien was doing on Amoi and just what his relationship was with Mingan's Pet. If he didn't believe the alien would be more trouble than he was worth, Akando would have taken him as a Pet as well as the dancer. He'd never had a lover with a tail and he rather liked the casual violence in the man.

 

“If you want, knock him out and I'll dream-walk him to get all the answers you ever needed out of him. We don't really need him alive after that so I don't need to worry about tearing his mind apart to get what we're after. Shouldn't take me long. Maybe ten minutes on the outside. Rap him a good one on the head and I'll do my thing. I'll even do it as a freebie since this is probably in the best interest of my Vi'deshron, too.”

 

The man under Zesiro struggled to make sense of what the alien holding him down was talking about. Whatever it was, it didn't sound pleasant, and he knew he was going to end up just as dead. He had no illusions about what would happen to him after his spectacular failure. If the men holding him, by some miracle, didn't kill him, Ejnar certainly would and he'd make sure it took as long as possible for him to die. The man closed his eyes and whimpered. He had no choice and he was very glad he'd planned ahead for just such a possibility regardless of the cost at the time.

 

He bit down on a small lump in the inside of his cheek. A tiny capsule slipped free from the pocket created inside his mouth and he crunched down firmly on it. The taste of burnt sugar spread over his tongue and he smiled seconds before his muscles snapped tight and his body started to convulse. His awareness faded away as his organs seized and stopped working. The last thought he had was that he'd managed to evade any more pain from the men who'd captured him or Ejnar.

 

Zesiro clung to the convulsing man, refusing to be shaken off. As quickly as it'd started, it stopped. Zesiro frowned and checked the man for a pulse, swearing softly when he found none. He moved off the body and nudged it with his toe, looking between Mingan and Akando.

 

“Fuck. He's dead. What the hell?”

 

Mingan leaned close, pulled back the man's eyelid and cursed softly. Filovir was a very fast acting poison with a distinctive scent of burnt sugar and turned the whites of the victim's eyes black. It was also hideously expensive and not something easily obtained. Mingan made a frustrated noise in his throat and stood.

 

“Filovir poisoning. He was a dead man as soon as he took the stuff. He must have known failure was a possibility and didn't like the way that would go over with his employer. Who ever hired him scared him shitless. Damn it, I wish we'd gotten a name from him before he killed himself. Fuck.”

 

Akando shifted Jolen in his arms. “Just in case there are any other surprises in the wings, we should go. Now. He's got a shoulder wound that needs to be dressed,” Akando said with a nod to Jolen.

 

Mingan exhaled loudly. He was irritated that he hadn't been able to question the man sent to kill him. The one good thing was that Sevilen hadn't been with him. Mingan had no idea how violent he would have become if the man had threatened Sevilen in some way. Thinking of his little Pet waiting for him at home, Mingan groaned softly and scrubbed a hand over his face. He just hoped Sevilen had the good sense not to say “I told you so” once he found out what had almost happened.

 

 

 

Translation Notes:

 

Noru Shal-hazal: Honoured Shal-hazal - honorific title greeting to a Shal-hazal when the speaker doesn't know the Shal-hazal's name, rank or the House they are attached to.

Sho: mother

Sha: father

Nal'ger: highest possible military rank for an Awh'anise

Lau H'te: Graceful Death - Series of martial moves used in unarmed combat by the military so named for the beauty and almost dance-like quality that hides a lethal capacity

Xa' madna: My fought for mate. -casual pairing, said by dominant.

Tay: No - Only used in connection to a sexual refusal. If this word is ignored, the one who ignored the word and forced sex anyway will often be put to death. True non-con has zero tolerance among the Awh'anise.