Chained_Brides of the Kindred Read online

  * * * * *

  He heard them coming down the hall well before the door to his prison opened. The clatter of high heeled shoes was unmistakable. Pope’nose was on the way for another one of her gloating sessions.

  He gritted his teeth, clenched his jaw, and prepared to endure her visit. There was nothing he could do to break free at the moment so the best he could do was to be silent and not give her the satisfaction of seeing his pain.

  As the door opened with a loud creak, he kept his eyes down. He saw two pairs of feet enter the room, both wearing ridiculous three inch platform heels that were apparently the fashion this season on this fucked up world.

  “This,” he heard Lady Pope’nose say, “is the reason I so wanted the Hurkon collar. He is a fighter from the Blood Circuit—or he was until he killed his master. They wanted to put him to death but I bought him instead. I like a challenge.”

  The prisoner kept his head down, not caring to hear the visitor’s reply. This was not a new occurrence for him—ever since she’d bought him, Pope’nose had been bringing guests down to show him off. Apparently holding a multiple murderer in her dungeons made her feel important.

  But instead of words, all he heard from the guest was a low gasp. The sound made him look up involuntarily, though he had been determined not to. What he saw took his own breath away.

  It’s her! The one in my dreams! The one I see when I manage to nod off for a moment. Her!

  The girl—because he could tell she was a girl now, not a cyborg, despite the strange oculars on her eyes—was staring at him with a look of shock and confusion on her lovely face. He still couldn’t quite tell what color her eyes were but they were fixed on him and her entire body was tense. Could it be that she recognized him as he had recognized her?

  “You,” he growled hoarsely. “It’s you.”

  Chapter Three

  “You’re absolutely right, it’s me,” Lady Pope’nose proclaimed, obviously misunderstanding the prisoner’s meaning though he was clearly staring at Maggie. “I’ve come to see if you’re ready to submit,” she continued, frowning at the bound man.

  “Never,” he rasped, switching his attention to Lady Pope’nose. He glared at her, his slitted blue eyes filled with a fury that was almost palpable. Maggie shivered, glad that his anger wasn’t directed at her.

  “Is that right?” Lady Pope’nose frowned. “So stubborn, this one,” she said to Maggie. “I’ve had him for weeks and still he refuses to acknowledge me as his mistress.”

  “Um…uh…” Maggie didn’t know what else to say. She was still stunned that the huge man in her dreams was somehow real. How could this be? He was exactly how she had dreamed him, right down to the last detail. Huge, mostly naked—he appeared to be wearing nothing more than a ragged loincloth— muscular and covered in that silvery-gray dust. His cheeks were rough with stubble which might have been black but it was hard to tell because of the dust. He was even kneeling beside a small, chattering brook which somehow ran right through the middle of his prison, just as he had been in her dreams.

  Maggie wondered if he was thirsty—her own throat ached for him as she watched him kneeling there, glaring up at his captor defiantly. A phrase from some half-remembered poem came back to her—“Bloody but unbowed.” Yes, that fit him exactly. Here he was with his hands chained behind his back, being held captive by the sadistic Lady Pope’nose but still he refused to submit to her. Maggie felt a surge of admiration but it was clearly an emotion her hostess didn’t share.

  Lady Pope’nose took a step toward her prisoner. “Say the words, slave. Beg my pardon and kiss my foot as is your duty. The key to your chains is right here.” She indicated a large grey metal knob hanging from a hook on the wall across from him. “Your freedom from pain is within your sight.” There was a taunting note in her voice and a cruel little smile was playing around her thin lips. “I leave the key here with him on purpose,” she told Maggie. “To remind him how quickly he can be free if only he will submit.”

  “Never,” the prisoner growled again. “And if you put your foot in my face I won’t kiss it—I’ll bite it. So stay the fuck away from me!”

  The smile left Lady Pope’nose’s mouth and her face turned dark with fury. “How dare you insult and threaten me in front of my guest?” She pointed at him with one long finger. “Trab!”

  At once the lights on the slave’s collar lit up and began to blink. At the same time, he went rigid with agony, his face contorted in a mask of pain. The cords on his strong neck stood out and his huge hands knotted into fists. But though it was clear he was in anguish, he didn’t make a single sound.

  “Wait! What are you doing to him?” Maggie stepped forward, wanting to end this awful show. She had never been able to stand to see a helpless creature hurt or in pain. Once when she was nine she’d taken on three older boys who were torturing a small, defenseless dog. She’d gotten a black eye and a bloody nose before her protective older brother, Michael, found her fighting but the dog had lived. In fact, it had been her pet for years. Scrappy had been a fighter and so was Maggie—especially when it came to helpless creatures who couldn’t defend themselves.

  “I’m punishing him.” Lady Pope’nose’s face was twisted into a sneer of triumph. With a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, Maggie realized that she liked this. That she was getting pleasure from it.

  Sick! She’s sick! she thought. She’s not just hypercritical—she’s a sadist!

  “Well, stop it!” she said desperately. “Whatever you’re doing, stop!” She ran forward, her hand outstretched to the prisoner, as though she could somehow stop his pain. It was the same, blind impulse that had gotten her beaten up when she rescued Scrappy and it had a similar effect now.

  The moment her hand touched his naked shoulder, Maggie felt a jolt of pain lance through her. She gasped and went rigid—it was as though she’s been suddenly struck by lightning. Agony ripped through her, setting her nerves on fire, making her feel like she was going to die.

  “Krelb!” Lady Pope’nose shouted, ending the pain. She rushed forward to pull Maggie away from the chained man. “Are you mad?” She shook Maggie roughly. “What’s wrong with you, getting so close?”

  “I…I…” Maggie couldn’t think—could barely even breathe. The pain was gone now, as though it had never happened. Not even a faint tingling remained. But she remembered it well—it was the worst thing she had ever felt even though it had lasted less than five seconds. How long did the prisoner have to endure it every time Lady Pope'nose came to torture him? “That…that was awful,” she finally managed to gasp.

  “Of course. The collar is set to maximum.” Lady Pope'nose shook her head. “That was a very foolish thing you did and not just because you gave yourself a nasty jolt. This prisoner is extremely dangerous—even bound and restrained he could kill you if you get too close.”

  Maggie looked again at the chained man. His huge, muscular body had gone limp and he sagged, his knees splayed apart. His head hung down and he was panting like a wounded animal. He didn’t look like a threat to her—not in his current state, anyway.

  “Why did you do that?” she demanded. Now that the pain was gone, she was so upset tears had come to her eyes. She took off her glasses and swiped at them angrily. “How could you? He’s helpless! How could you hurt him like that?”

  “My dear Lady Jor’don.” Lady Pope’nose frowned. “I’m simply trying to break him so he can be of useful service. And I’m not doing anything he doesn’t richly deserve. Remember, my dear, he’s a murderer many times over.”

  “I don’t care what he did,” Maggie said firmly, replacing her glasses. “No one deserves to be tied up and tortured.”

  Lady Pope’nose looked at her blankly. “But my dear, it is the only way to break a defiant slave. Just think—he would be dead if not for me. If I hadn’t bought him, he’d be rotting in a shallow grave somewhere with no one to mourn his loss. At least in his way he may be made to be useful…if he will eve
r learn manners.” She frowned at the still panting slave who was looking up again, studying Maggie’s face.

  Anyway, Maggie hoped it was her face he was looking at. The dinner gown that Lady Pope’nose had loaned her was positively indecent. It was a dark green velvet and it dipped low—very low—in front, barely covering her cleavage and then clung to her hips like a second skin before falling to her feet which were stuffed into the crazy high heels her hostess had insisted that she wear. For some reason, even though it was the prisoner who was half naked, Maggie felt completely undressed when he looked at her.

  “Just…don’t hurt him any more,” she begged, turning back to Lady Pope’nose. “I can’t stand to see that. We don’t treat our, uh, slaves this way back home. I’m not used to it.”

  “So I see,” Lady Pope’nose murmured dryly. “Apparently you come from one of those misguided societies where they believe in being lenient with their slaves. More’s the pity.” She sighed and shook her head. “Well, I suppose everyone must have their own view.”

  “Yes, well…” Maggie wanted to say that in her view, torturing helpless people was brutal and sadistic but she still didn’t have the documents she had come for. Reluctantly, she decided to hold her tongue.

  “I was hoping to have him broken by now,” Lady Pope’nose mused, still looking at the bound man. “I’m going off-planet to a retreat at the Lo’thian spa tomorrow morning quite early. It would have been quite a mark of status to have such a dangerous prisoner as my personal body-slave.” She frowned. “That is not to be, I see. I shall have to pick another slave or maybe just make use of the slaves they have at the spa.”

  Seriously? A spa? Was the sadistic Lady Pope’nose going to take time off of her busy schedule of torture and persecution for a spa weekend? Maggie felt hysterical laughter bubbling up in her throat and swallowed it down with difficulty.

  “You’re going to a spa?” she asked, instead.

  “Not just any spa,” Lady Pope’nose assured her with a superior smile. “The Lo’thian spa. They specialize in very particular treatments for the relaxation and pleasure of their guests. It’s lovely, I hear. I’ve never been before because I’m always so busy. But this year I decided to make time and go.” She smiled brightly. “Of course, I don’t want you to worry, my dear Lady Jor’don. I’m certain we can finish our deal before I have to leave tomorrow.” She turned to the prisoner. “And then you will be singing a different tune. Once you’re fitted with the Hurkon collar, you’ll beg to kiss my foot and call me ‘Mistress.’ Just wait and see.”

  He didn’t answer in words. Instead, a low, menacing growl rose from his thick throat. The sound made the hairs on the back of Maggie’s neck stand on end. Was Lady Pope’nose crazy, trying to tame a man like this? Clearly he would rather die—or kill—than submit. Unless the Hurkon collar thingy was even worse than the pain collar he had on now…The minute the question entered her head, she had to ask it.

  “Why is the Hurkon collar so effective?” she asked, turning to Lady Pope’nose. “I mean, I’ve never seen it in action—how is it different from what you’ve got on him now?”

  Lady Pope’nose put a hand to her narrow chest. “Oh, my dear—a Hurkon collar is vastly superior to anything else on the market today. Why, it’s actually sentient. It feeds on the pain of the prisoner so it’s constantly coming up with new and different ways to cause distress. In fact, I’m told that even if the slave behaves himself, it still gives out periodic shocks when it gets hungry.” She tittered, as though she found the idea amusing. “Keeps the slave on his toes, don’t you know. Also there’s a switch on the remote that’s capable of knocking out a rebellious slave—a failsafe or ‘kill switch’ as it’s called. Very useful for security reasons, I’m sure you’ll agree.”

  “Of course,” Maggie agreed dully. Inside she felt sick. What kind of horrible torture device had she just delivered to this sadistic bitch? How could the Kindred have let her do this? She sent up a silent prayer that Jonas would never find the remote. She couldn’t bear the thought of the chained man being tortured with an even worse device than the one he already wore.

  “Well…” Lady Pope’nose sighed. “I supposed we should go. I’ll just let the thirst work on this miscreant a little longer and come check him after I finish at the spa.”

  Her words brought the other part of Maggie’s dream back.

  “But…what do you mean thirst? He’s right beside a stream—within easy reach of the water.”

  “Indeed, but the verium keeps him from ingesting it. Speaking of which…” Lady Pope’nose walked over to a small wooden barrel which was directly under the hook with the strange round, knobby key. She pulled on a glove which was obviously provided for the purpose and scooped up a handful of silvery-gray dust from inside the barrel. Then she took two careful steps forward, reached out and sprinkled the dust over the top of the prisoner’s head.

  “Why did you do that?” Maggie looked at her doubtfully.

  “It wears off in time.” Lady Pope’nose removed the glove carefully and dusted her hands together. “Verium is extremely useful for sapping strength and suppressing power but you can’t forget to renew it from time to time. That should hold him for a week, while I’m off to the spa.” She gave a decisive nod. “Well, let’s go see if Jonas has managed to find that remote yet. I swear I’ll have his hide nailed to my front step if he hasn’t.”

  Maggie reflected that before the savage display she had just witnessed, she would have thought that Lady Pope’nose was joking. Now she was pretty sure the sadistic mistress was speaking literally. If the hapless Jonas couldn’t find the remote, he was literally going to be skinned—probably while still alive. But if he did find the remote, the prisoner who was also the man in her dreams was going to live out the rest of his life in unspeakable agony.

  I have to do something, she thought as she followed Lady Pope’nose out of the dungeon. I can’t leave him like this—can I?

  Turning her head, she cast one last look behind her at the chained man. To her dismay, she found that he was staring right back at her, his pale blue eyes fixed on her every move. As she watched, he nodded at her gravely, a look of respect on his strong features.

  Maggie gave a quick, jerky nod in return—she didn’t know what else to do. Then she turned back to the door and fled.

  * * * * *

  She wept for me.

  For a long time after the dungeon door had clanged shut, the prisoner continued to stare at the place where the girl in his dreams had stood. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the spot where he’d last seen her any more than he could stop the endless circle of his thoughts.

  She shed tears for my pain. She tried to save me—to help me. She even shared my torment.

  No female had cared for him in such a way in more years than he cared to count. Not since before he had become the trained, deadly killer he was today. Pope’nose had told her all that—had told her about his past, his kills—and still she had defended him.

  Why? he thought, remembering the look in her big eyes. He longed to know their color. Why did she care? Was it because she dreamed of me too? Will she ever come back?

  But even if she did, what good would it do? He was nearly at the end of his strength—his power and stamina completely sapped by the damned verium. In fact, the extra scoop Pope’nose had sprinkled over him before she left might well mean his death. As strong as he was, the thirst and weakness were stronger—slowly they were killing him.

  He was already on his knees but now he sank lower, ignoring the jolts from the pain collar as he went. Finally, he lay on his back with his head in the stream. He could feel the cool water running through his hair but it did nothing to wash away the deadly verium. Nothing could do that until the seal was broken. Until he got at least a mouthful of the life-giving water past his lips, the barrier of the dust was complete and unassailable.

  And since there was no way to break the barrier without someone willing to help him—to give him
the kiss of life—he was probably going to die.

  As his eyes closed, his last thoughts were of the lovely girl with the sad eyes and the honey blonde curls. He hoped he would dream of her, just once more, before he went. Truly, she was a lovely sight—a beautiful last vision to rest his weary mind on before he crossed the threshold to the other world.

  “Goddess have mercy on me,” he croaked through parched lips.

  Then his eyes closed and he knew no more.

  Chapter Four

  Shouldn’t be doing this, Maggie thought to herself as she crept along the corridor that led to the dungeon. This isn’t part of the plan at all. I’m just supposed to get the documents and go—that’s all.

  But even though the remote to the collar had been found and she now had the Kindred documents in her possession—they were in fact in the compressed form of a pill-sized pellet and stuffed down the front of her bra—she found she couldn’t just leave. When Lady Pope’nose had politely asked if she wished to spend the night, Maggie had agreed without even thinking about it. She had lain in the plush bed she was given until the early morning, arguing with herself but she couldn’t talk herself out of the plan that had formed in her mind.

  Somehow, she was going to set the prisoner free.

  This is stupid, Maggie, she told herself even as she checked to see if the coast was clear outside his door. It was hard to tiptoe around in the tight green dress and ridiculously high heels and for a moment she wished she had left the shoes behind. But if she was caught, she wanted to say she was just out for a stroll. It would look bad for her to be sneaking around in her bare feet. It looked, well…sneaky.

  He’s a murderer—maybe even a psycho, she thought, as she surveyed the prisoner’s unguarded door. He might kill you if you let him go.

  But that was just what Lady Pope’nose had told her. Probably she was lying or exaggerating. But even if she wasn’t, Maggie couldn’t forget the look on his face as he had nodded to her. Had she been imagining the respect and gratitude she saw there? She didn’t think so. Are you willing to bet your life on that? asked a little voice inside her head. Maggie didn’t know.