Rebel by Aubrey Ross

she dragged her gaze back
to his face. “For about a year after my father died I had a belated
fit of adolescent angst. I experimented with a lot of things,
including reality simulators.”
    “That’s how you knew about the Pleasure
Palace. They have the best reality simulators in the sector.”
    She laughed. “They have the only reality
simulators that provide the sort of experience I was after. I only
went a couple times. I…saw someone I knew really well and never
went back.”
    “Hundreds of people visit the Pleasure
Palace every day. Why would—”
    “My brother was one of the Pleasure Masters.
I only used the simulators, but I was taken on a tour of the
dungeons and there he was. He was masked of course, but he has a
birthmark on his thigh. I just couldn’t go back, knowing he was
there.”
    “That would definitely ruin the mood.” He
held out his hand and smiled. His gaze warm and inviting. She
joined him on the pallet, curving her legs to one side. “So, you’ve
experienced the simulation of two lovers, but you’ve never—”
    “The simulation progressed in stages. That would have happened during my fourth session.”
    His dark gaze caressed her face, searching,
assessing. “If Lutton risked his life to help us, we need to help
him, but I’m sensing something else. You want to do this. The
tribal test, the moonlit ritual, all of it excites you.”
    “I… It’s not like I want to… This isn’t that
much different than the simulation. We can abandon ourselves to the
pleasure, knowing we’ll never see these people again.” She took a
deep breath and rushed on. “Besides, we have no choice.”
    He stroked her face, his dark eyes
glistening. “You used that excuse on the schooner. When are you
going to be honest with yourself? You want to be overwhelmed. You
want to be stimulated until you scream.”
    “What do you want?” She glanced at him
through her thick lashes, uncertainty tightening her belly.
    “I want to prove my worth to the tribe and
revel in the Celebration of Life.”

Chapter Eight
     
    At sunset Ashton and Corry were ushered to
the clearing in the center of the Perrlain settlement. Despite the
balmy breeze a fire burned in a shallow pit. The fire crackled and
popped, shooting sparks into the hazy sky. Wavering light
illuminated a sea of curious faces. Lutton indicated a large mat
situated slightly apart from the others. Ashton sat in the middle
and pulled Corry down beside him, forcing Lutton to take his place
on Ashton’s other side. If Lutton noticed the possessive maneuver,
he didn’t react.
    Drums throbbed in the distance, giving the
night a distinct pulse. The rhythm sped as five men emerged from a
dwelling on Ashton’s right. Their swarthy skin gleamed in the
firelight and their long black hair had been decorated with tiny
pieces of polished stone and what looked like bleached bone. With
regal features and watchful eyes, they sat across the fire pit from
Ashton and Corry.
    “The man in the middle is my father,” Lutton
said. “The other four are our village elders. They are here to
observe the festivities, not participate.” A row of women exited
the dwelling on the other side of the clearing. Bare-breasted and
graceful, they knelt on a mat beside the elders. “The high
priestess and her acolytes. They will dance for you in a short
while. The one near the end, with the red flowers in her hair, is
Serena, my youngest sister.”
    Ashton gazed at the young woman and
acknowledged the beauty of her face and form, but he felt nothing
more. Turning his head, he looked at Corry and tenderness swelled
within his heart. Her features might not turn heads, but her spirit
captivated him and he felt triumphant each time she graced him with
her smile.
    Bowls of sliced fruit and fresh vegetables
were passed along the rows. Everyone ate with their fingers and
spoke in hushed tones, studying them with obvious curiosity. The
primitive setting had a certain charm. Sweet berry wine was