Harem Assassins : King Sekton's Harem Planet, Book 2: A Space Opera Harem Adventure by Baron Sord (mobi ebook reader .TXT) 📕

a dozen different devilishly delicious sexual possibilities involving me and Syx. Turning a corner, my eyes randomly met Theia’s and she gave me a look.

“What?” I snorted while we walked.

Theia offered a sly smirk.

“Oh,” I said, “because of Corporal Syx?”

Theia clearly knew what I’d been thinking, but she didn’t say anything.

Once again, I remembered what she’d said the other day about me being a good man. “I didn’t do anything,” I chuckled with a defensive smile.

“Yet.” Theia said with finality. It was a warning as much as a challenge.

“I won’t,” I said defiantly.

“We’ll see,” she said confidently. “Talk to me a month from now.” She was clearly implying I’d fall off the good path and into the bad within 30 days of being surrounded by adoring, naked babes.

“Were you not with me all of yesterday?” I chuckled guiltily.

“I was,” she smirked. “Were you?”

“Low blow, Captain,” I crowed, trying to cover my growing guilt. “Low. Blow.”

I didn’t have a better counter argument than that because it was very difficult to argue with a 300+ year-old woman who looked 25 and was basically naked at all times. You just couldn’t win because you couldn’t stop gawking and drooling over her breasts, flat stomach, flaring hips, thigh gap and gravity-defying butt long enough to formulate a sensible rebuttal.

Such was my life.

I believe it was William Shakespeare’s rakish cousin Drake Shakespeare who once wrote:

Swollen is the head that wears the crown.

Or was it:

Engorged is the sword that stabs the wet scabbard?

Elongated is the lance that slays the drenched dragon?

Stiff is the spear that pierces the maiden’s nether heart?

I couldn’t remember.

You’d have to ask Drake Shakespeare.

—: Chapter 51 :—

I walked quietly into the Bombshells’ dimly lit recovery room. Even though it was morning, it was quite dark.

Oia, Venus, Cygna, and Sirius each lay motionless in their beds.

“Anybody awake?” I whispered.

“Tim,” Oia whispered happily.

My chest sizzled at the sound of her voice and my fingers tingled. Say what you will about hot babes and boobs and orgies, but when your own Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue cover model called your name, and you remembered every risk she’d taken to save your life, and you hers, and you felt stirring in your boxers a plethora of sense memories from the incredible sex you’d had with her — not fantasized about, had — when that many intense memories came surging up, it just…

I couldn’t put it into words.

No, one word was all I needed.

Love.

I loved Oia.

I walked softly to her bedside.

Her face was hidden in shadow.

“Mind if I turn a light on?” I whispered. “I can’t see your eyes.”

“No, don’t,” Oia said, her voice strained with fear.

“Is something wrong? Where’s your reconstruction mask? The laser mannequin face?”

“A doctor said my ace is resting,” Oia said.

“Your ace?”

“My ace!” she hissed.

“Your face?”

“Yes!”

I realized she was having trouble enunciating her words. Probably had something to do with her getting her teeth knocked out, as ordered by Colonel Sadys and carried out by Sergeant Kane. I again hated both those women with a burning fury. I repressed a scowl and said softly, “Which doctor? Major Akeso?”

“Yes,” Oia said. “Eye mask goes back on in two hours.”

“Your eye mask? I thought it covered your whole face.”

“My mask!” Oia groaned in frustration. “My! Is eye tease. Air gone.” Translation: her teeth. It was her teeth. They were gone.

“Right,” I cringed, trying not to picture it. “Sorry.” I sat down in the chair beside her bed.

The silhouette of her profile was visible, but her features were obscured by inky black shadow.

“What’s wrong, Oia?”

She turned her head away until only the curve of her shadowed ear was visible.

“Oia?” I asked, worried. “Are you okay?”

Her head shook imperceptibly.

“What is it, babe? You can tell me.”

“My tease.”

“What?”

“My tease!” she hissed. “Air sill issing!”

“Your teeth are still missing?”

“Yeh,” she moaned in despair.

“Right. Sorry. You already said that.” I suddenly felt like a thoughtless, inconsiderate, heartless jerk.

She sniffed, her head still turned away.

“Are you crying?” I asked carefully.

“No.” She obviously was, and trying to hide it.

“Can I hold your hand? Or would that hurt?”

“No.”

I gently closed my fingers around hers.

She squeezed back hard. Sniffed. “I ought you a ban on us.”

“Abandoned you?” I snorted. “I’d never do that.”

She squeezed again.

“I love you, Oia.”

“Uh?”

“Oh, right. You don’t use that word on Zalaxia.”

“No, but I know it. Enus does too.”

“Enus? Do you mean Venus?”

“Yeh. When we less Zalaxia, we her it airy where. Airy where exce here on our home whirl.”

“You heard it everywhere except your home world?”

“Yeh.”

I nodded, “I said the word love to Sirius and Cygna once. I asked them if they were lovers but they didn’t know what I meant.”

“Ugh isn’t a par of Zalaxian eye.”

I had to consider the sounds of her words a moment before repeating what I believed she’d said, “Love isn’t a part of Zalaxian life?”

She nodded.

I squeezed Oia’s fingers gently and said, “It’s a part of mine.”

She squeezed back.

“Do you know what it means?” I asked. “Love?”

“Tell me,” she said gently.

“It means no matter what happens, Oia, I will always be here for you. Good or bad, better or worse, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” I realized I sounded like I was giving her my wedding vows, but I meant it. The experience of almost dying on the other side of that Chaos Gate at the Space Pyramid yesterday had put everything in perspective. Your life could be over in the blink of an eye. I was incredibly grateful I hadn’t lost mine, or lost Oia and the Bombshells.

Oia squeezed my hand very hard for a long time. Eventually, her hand started to shake erratically. “Do you een at? Een uh you say?”

“Yes I mean it,” I chuckled. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“E n ih I ook ike iss?” Oia suddenly ripped her hand out of mine and rolled over into a stark shard of light cutting into the recovery room from the corridor outside.

For the briefest second, my brain cross-wired an old memory, dredging up an unforgettable episode of The Twilight Zone I’d seen