Mercenaries by Angela Knight Page B

Dead center under the vaulted ceiling stood a towering black marble statue of a naked woman kneeling before an armored man. Her wrists were bound behind her back, and she was sucking her conqueror’s cock with submissive enthusiasm.
    â€œYou’ve got to admit, it makes a statement,” Sebastian commed finally, after a two-minute gape.
    â€œYeah, but a statement of what?” Nathan folded his arms and rocked back on his heels, looking the statue over with a raised brow and a grin.
    â€œHow about, ‘We’ve got more kinks than a corkscrew’?” As he glanced at his captain, Sebastian caught the gaze of a hard-eyed palace guard watching them suspiciously. He was unable to resist giving the man a taunting wink. Without an implant of his own, the guard couldn’t hear the conversation no matter how hard he tried to eavesdrop.
    â€œI can’t believe they put that thing out where anybody can see it.” Trinity sounded so scandalized, Sebastian had to grin.
    He wasn’t surprised at her reaction, though. Trin had spent her teenage years on Orville’s Paradise, a planet colonized by a rabid religious cult. Nathan had expanded her horizons considerably, but even after a year of marriage and her new life as a mercenary, she was still easy to shock.
    Frowning, Trinity added out loud, “I hope they don’t let children in here.”
    â€œChildren,” a stuffy male voice announced, “are not permitted in this section of the palace.”
    The three pivoted to see a man striding toward them. In contrast to their own conservative blue dress uniforms, he wore a pair of tight leather pants with thigh-high black boots. Black buckled straps circled his flabby biceps, and a leather breastplate covered his chest. It was sculpted to look a lot more muscular than he was. A leather codpiece completed the ensemble, draped with gold chains that jingled musically as he walked.
    â€œEither he’s way too happy to see us,” Sebastian quipped, “or he stuffs that codpiece.”
    â€œHe’d have to, or he’d get calluses on his dick,” Nathan commed. “All that leather’s got to chafe.” Spotting Trinity’s wicked smile, he added, “And what are you grinning at?”
    â€œActually, I was wondering if I could get the name of his tailor,” she purred. “You’d look a lot better in that rig than he does.”
    Sebastian bit the inside of his cheek to control a bark of laughter. Maybe Nathan had done a better job at expanding Trin’s horizons than he’d thought.
    Leather Man came to a jingling halt a pace in front of them, shoulders drawn back, both chins lifted. “Welcome to the Dominality of Rabican,” he announced. “I am Dom Javier Grosvenor Bayard, adviser to the Dominor—”
    â€œNot on matters of fashion, I hope,” Sebastian commed, keeping his face straight with an effort.
    Trin made a strangled sound. “Sebastian, if you make me laugh at this self-important clod, I’m going to spank you.”
    â€œOh, would you?”
    Trin’s snicker at his mock plea had Bayard peering at them in puzzlement.
    Nathan, ignoring the byplay, introduced the three of them in grave, rolling phrases. Sebastian had no idea how his captain always managed to treat Bayard’s ilk as if he took them seriously. Sebastian himself didn’t have the patience, which was how he knew he had no business captaining a ship.
    Oh, he might have the knowledge of strategy and tactics, even the necessary leadership skills, but he was just no damn good with idiots.
    When Nathan finished his spiel, Bayard gave them all a short, stiff bow. “Very good. If you will accompany me, I will take you to His Dominance.” Turning on one high, booted heel, he marched off down the corridor, right past a wall-length mural of a naked woman writhing in a particularly uncomfortable arrangement of ropes.
    â€œYou know,