Enslaved Page 8

  She wanted to open her mouth and say something to salvage the situation but the tingling in her lips and tongue had become partial numbness now and speaking was difficult. Still, after swallowing a few times, she was able to interject between the angry insults Thrace and B’Rugh were trading.

  “So you’re saying, B’Rugh,” she said, being careful not to slur her words. “That your only interest here is preserving the deal. That you only offer yourself as my temporary mate in order to conclude our transact…” She swallowed, her tongue feeling thick. “Transaction? Correct?”

  “Of course.” B’Rugh nodded stiffly. “Though I admit to finding you most desirable, if you had come with a mate to effect the transaction, none of this would be necessary.”

  “Good, then all our problems are solved.” Thrace leaned forward and glared at the Lud’om. “Because I’m her mate.”

  Chapter Eight

  “I’m her mate,” Thrace growled again, wanting to get the point across. “And I’m here to ‘effect the transaction’ as you keep saying.”

  “What?” the Lud’om blustered, spraying bits of slime on the black grass table. “But Trin stated she had no mate!”

  “She never said that. She said she didn’t have one with her. But here I am.” Thrace grinned, really enjoying the look of fury on the lumpish, oozing face of his opponent. The look on Trin’s face was equally amusing. She looked like she wanted to say something but wasn’t quite sure how to say it.

  Or maybe she was just about to lose consciousness. The bastard with the steel teeth had put no less than three passion berries in her wine—enough for a person three times her size. Thrace only wished he’d been able to knock it from her hand before she took the first drink but he’d wanted to hang back in the shadows and hear what was going on. He’d told himself that he would just watch and listen—and if she wasn’t in trouble, he would simply go get The Empress out of dry dock and leave her alone forever.

  So much for that plan, he thought grimly, trying to keep an eye on B’Rugh and his weird second in command at the same time. The male with the steel teeth had sidled around behind his boss and was looking at both him and Trin as if they were interesting exhibits in a zoo. There was something not right about that son of a bitch…something not quite sane, Thrace thought.

  “But this is impossible,” B’Rugh blustered. “You cannot be Trin’s mate.”

  “I most certainly am. Aren’t I, baby?” He looked down at her, giving her an encouraging smile. Would she play along? She’d better if she wants to get out of here in one piece with that pretty pile of crystals!

  Trin was still looking up at him, probably wondering how he’d gotten loose in the first place and what he was doing here aboard the Demon’s Eye. But finally, she nodded in confirmation.

  “Yes, Thrace is my…mate.”

  “You told me that your people did not allow penetration by males!” B’Rugh accused her. “You sited it as your main objection to taking me as a temporary mate.”

  “I highly doubt that was her main objection,” Thrace said dryly. “But just to let you know, there are a hell of a lot more things you can do with a female besides just penetrate her. If you don’t know that by now, you’ve got less going for you than I thought. Now…” Reaching around Trin, he scooped up the handful of golden cred-chip coins and held them out across the table. “How about making that deal?”

  “I…I never…” B’Rugh tried to protest.

  “You said you wanted to do the deal and only Trin’s lack of a mate was stopping you,” Thrace reminded him steadily. “Yet when her mate shows up, you try to go back on your word?” He shook his head. “That doesn’t look too good, B’Rugh. Especially not to the Elders of your Tribe.”

  Though the Lud’om was a feared and hated criminal, Thrace knew that the crime lord would still be bound by the mores of his people. One of which dictated that a deal, once offered, must always be honored.

  B’Rugh seemed to know when he was beaten.

  “Very well,” he burbled brusquely. Scooping up the sack of crystals, he held them out to Thrace who took the sack and handed over the stack of coins.

  “Thank you.” He checked the crystals, nodded politely, and put a hand under Trin’s slim elbow to help her up. “Come on, baby—let’s go,” he muttered.

  Trin didn’t move.

  At first he thought she was resisting him—then he realized she was still under the effects of the drugged wine and probably about to pass out. He lifted her by main force and helped her stand. Her eyes were partially glazed as she nodded her goodbyes to B’Rugh and his strange second in command. Then Thrace hustled her out the triangular doorway as quickly as he could.

  It was time to get the hell out of here.

  * * * * *

  “Stay on your feet and don’t fall down,” the big Havoc muttered in her ear as he half carried, half dragged Trin down the wide metal walkway. “I can’t carry you yet—the bastards around here will see it as weakness and be on us like a pack of wild ferals.”

  “I’m…trying,” Trin slurred, stumbling along beside him. The tingling and numbness in her mouth had become an odd, lightheaded feeling that made her feel extremely weird and strangely relaxed at the same time.

  In danger—we just crossed the most notorious crime lord in the galaxy and we’re in terrible danger—screamed a little voice inside her head. But it seemed muffled and faint…unimportant even though Trin knew it was pretty damn serious.

  She was aware that the thugs who had watched her first passage down this corridor were back. Their eyes gleamed from the shadows and a couple of them looked like they would have liked to challenge Thrace. But since the Havoc was bigger than any of them and had a naked blaster in his hand, they hung back. Still, it was probably only a matter of time until one or several of them got over their uncertainty and stepped forward. Only—

  She stumbled and Thrace dragged her upright again, hooking one arm around her waist to keep her moving.

  “Almost there,” he muttered. “Almost to the exit airlock. Come on, baby—you can do it.”

  Trin wanted to object to the demeaning nickname but she couldn’t seem to form any words. What had Thrace said the man with the steel teeth had put into her drink? Passion berries? Trin had never heard of them but they must be incredibly strong. She’d taken the tiniest possible sip and she still felt close to passing out. Had B’Rugh’s second in command been trying to kill her? Or simply drug her so completely she couldn’t protest anything that was done to her? The thought made Trin shiver, even in her drugged haze.

  Suddenly, as if her thoughts had called him, the male with the steel teeth and rotting brain popped up right in front of them. Trin blinked at him owlishly. How did he move so fast?

  “What in the Seven Hells?” Apparently the male’s sudden appearance had surprised Thrace as well. He halted abruptly, keeping one arm firmly around Trin and pointed the blaster at the center of the other male’s narrow chest. “Get out of the way,” he growled.

  “In a moment,” the male said pleasantly. “I just had a quick question for you before you go, my good Havoc.”

  “I’m not your good anything,” Thrace snarled. “Now step out of the way or I’ll blast a hole in you big enough to walk through.”

  “My, my—such a violent temper!” The male with steel teeth shook his head and made a tsking sound. “But listen—you said that B’Rugh’s people tried to take over the mud flats on your planet—is that correct?”

  “They tried. Didn’t succeed,” Thrace snapped impatiently. “What of it?”

  “Well, it’s just that mud flats are a very unusual geographical feature.”

  “Not really.” Thrace frowned. “They’re what happen when the desert meets the sea. Most of my home planet, Xander Prime, is either huge oceans or barren deserts. Not the most hospitable place but it’s ours and we weren’t going to give it up to those Lud’om bastards.”

  “I see. Of course not.” B’Rugh’s second in comman
d nodded thoughtfully. “Well, thank you very much. That was all I wished to know.”

  Thrace stared at him. “Seriously? You stopped me to ask about the mud flats of my home world?”

  “That’s all. I simply have an interest in different climates and geographical features. Call it a…hobby of mine.” He grinned, exposing his horrible teeth again. “Well, I must be going and I can see you are in a hurry as well.”

  “Damn right,” Thrace snapped. But before they could start moving again. the male with steel teeth leaned forward and put one cold finger under Trin’s chin.

  “Goodbye for now, my dear,” he murmured, his one normal eye gleaming. “But not forever because I will see you again. I can promise you that.”

  He’s crazy! Trin thought, another cold shiver going down her spine. Completely insane.

  “Get your fucking hands off her.” Thrace jerked her away and shoved the muzzle of the blaster in the other male’s skinny sternum. “Touch her again and you die.”

  The male with metal teeth didn’t seem in the least concerned. He simply smiled.

  “So protective despite the fact that she doesn’t allow you to penetrate her. That’s interesting. Very interesting,” he murmured, finally stepping aside. “Goodbye then. For now.” Slowly, he backed away, still grinning.

  At that point, Trin’s head began to spin and the world around her started to gray out. She saw the interested looks of the thugs in the hallway around them—clearly the pause for conversation with B’Rugh’s second in command had given them time to gather their courage. Trin knew she needed to stay on her feet, but she couldn’t even feel her feet anymore. She sagged in Thrace’s grip, unable to stand, let alone walk.

  “Trin?” He glanced at her quickly, while keeping most of his attention on the circle of interested thugs.

  “Sorry,” she whispered. “Just…can’t…”

  With a low curse, he bent down and swung her into his arms as easily as if he was picking up a doll. “Hold on to me,” he muttered. “Or try, at least—we’re going to have to fight our way out.”

  The last memory Trin had was of resting her head against his muscular, bare chest as a hoard of hungry eyes closed in on them.

  Then…nothing.

  Chapter Nine

  “Stav? Stavros?” Charlie snapped her fingers in front of her lover’s face worriedly.

  Stavros was sitting on the side of the bed, wearing nothing but his black satin sleep pants and a blank expression. His hands lay open on his thighs, palms up. Other than the rise and fall of his broad chest and some slight twitching of his fingertips, he was completely still.

  Completely gone.

  Charlie stared at him with growing concern. This wasn’t the first time he’d drifted off into a weird, blank-eyed trance—the brief fugues had been happening for weeks now, ever since they’d returned to the Mother Ship from destroying the Collective on the Dark Kindred home world. It was almost like a petite-mal seizure, the way he just blanked out suddenly and for no apparent reason but the Kindred didn’t get epilepsy.

  The trances scared Charlie, mostly because Stav had been a Sin Eater most of his life—what the Blood Kindred called a Cursed One. He’d had a parasite which grew on his back and forced him to feel the physical pain of others. It took the form of intricate, curving black lines which looked like an elaborate tattoo.

  Killing the Collective—the group of thinking computers that ruled the Dark Kindred world—had also killed the parasite, leaving Stav free of its influence for the first time in over twenty years. Then the Goddess had healed his heart and declared he would have a normal life span instead of the scant six months he had originally been given. It seemed they were destined to live happily ever after aboard the Mother Ship with the rest of the Kindred and their wives.

  And then the trances started.

  Stavros kept saying it was nothing to worry about and it really wasn’t very dramatic. He would just blank out occasionally, freezing in place wherever he was and staring into space for a few seconds. It happened infrequently—maybe once or twice a week—and never lasted very long. Still, Charlie was worried. In light of his medical history, she didn’t like anything out of the ordinary.

  And this was definitely out of the ordinary.

  It was also by far the longest trance or fugue or whatever you wanted to call it he’d had. She’d been calling his name and trying to bring him back for the past five minutes and Stavros hadn’t so much as blinked. It was like he had gone far away—somewhere she couldn’t reach him.

  “Okay, enough is enough,” Charlie muttered to herself at last. “I’m calling Dr. Sylvan.”

  Stav had talked her out of involving the Kindred doctor several times in the past but this time she was getting some answers. There was a think-me in the nightstand on her side of the bed. She would bespeak her new friend, Sophia, to ask if her husband was around, Charlie decided. Sylvan was a nice guy—he wouldn’t mind her calling late.

  But just as she was rummaging in the nightstand for the thin silver wire think-me which enabled telepathic communication, Stavros blinked and took a deep breath.

  “Charlotte?” He looked like a man coming out of a dream…or maybe a nightmare. His indigo eyes were dark and troubled and he ran one hand through his gorgeous mane of deep auburn hair distractedly.

  “Stav, honey…” Charlie had been digging in a drawer for a think-me but she went to him at once, relieved to have him back.

  “Charlotte,” he murmured again and put his arms around her. Though he was sitting and she was standing, he was tall, as all Kindred were. So when he pulled her close, his head pressed against her chest, his gorgeous hair spilling over the deep red nightgown she was wearing.

  “What is it?” Charlie was bewildered and concerned at how tightly he was holding her. It was as though he was a drowning man and she was the only one who could save him. “What is it, honey?” she asked again.

  Stavros turned his head and pressed his face to her breasts but not in a sexual way—it was more like he was seeking comfort. The gesture tore at Charlie’s heart because she knew he had never been able to seek comfort from anyone before. His own mother had rejected him when the Mark that proved he was a Cursed One started to grow on his back when he was only six.

  “Sweetheart…” she murmured, carding her fingers through his long hair. “Stav, what is it?”

  He looked up at her at last.

  “I’ve seen him,” he muttered in a hoarse voice.

  “Seen who?” Charlie stared at him, not understanding.

  “Two.” He sighed heavily. “I’ve been catching glimpses of him with every trance—if that’s what you call it. But this was the longest one yet.”

  “What?” Charlie frowned at him. “You told me you didn’t remember anything about those trances—that you just spaced out for a second or two and it was nothing.”

  “I lied.” Stavros looked away. “I’m not proud of that. I just…didn’t want to worry you.”

  “Like I wasn’t worried thinking you were having some kind of mental fugue states for no apparent reason?”

  “There’s no apparent reason for this either,” Stav pointed out. “I just keep seeing him all the time. I don’t understand it.”

  “I might,” Charlie said thoughtfully. “Remember how he—well, how Ur—reached for you and touched you while you were filled with all that emotional energy from the Heart of Love?”

  “How could I forget it?” Stavros said dryly. “Ur’s evil combined with the positive energy is what caused the overload that killed the Collective.”

  “But it wasn’t just Ur—he was in Two’s body when it happened,” Charlie pointed out. “What if the two of you formed some kind of…I don’t know…some kind of mental connection somehow when that happened?”

  “I suppose that’s possible.” Stav sounded thoughtful. “Though it still isn’t pleasant.”

  “Has he been doing awful things that you have to watch?” Charlie asked sympathetical
ly. Two was a horrible person—if the word “person” could even be applied to him. Nothing he would do could surprise her.

  “Well, up until now I’ve only been catching glimpses. But just now I watched him drug some poor female’s wine.”

  “He drugged her? With what? Could you tell?”

  Stavros frowned. “I think it was passion berries.”

  “Passion berries? What the hell is that?” Charlie felt cold all over. As a cop down on Earth working in a college town, she’d dealt with her share of date rape cases. Though the idea of Two trying to roofie someone didn’t sit quite right with her. He struck her as being completely asexual—totally evil, of course—but sex didn’t seem to be part of his makeup at all. “Is it some kind of aphrodisiac?” she asked. “Like that bonding fruit the wives with Twin Kindred eat to uh, help ease the way?”

  “Passion berries are similar to bonding fruit but much more deadly.” Stav sounded grim. “The saying goes, one sip makes you cold, the next sip makes you hot and the third sip makes you dead.”

  “My God. So Two was trying to kill her?” That actually fit more with the profile she had of him in her head.

  “I don’t think so. You see, the third sip isn’t always deadly—not if you have the antidote at hand.”

  “And did he?” Charlie demanded. Though she had no idea who this girl was, she was feeling more and more worried about her. Of course, she would feel worried about anyone who found themselves at the mercy of Two—mainly because the sick bastard had no mercy.

  “The antidote is not a compound or elixir which can be administered orally,” Stav said dryly. “The only cure for a third sip of passion berry wine is penetration and insemination.”

  “What?” Charlie stared at him. “So in order to survive after drinking that third drink she has to let him…”

  “Have sex with her and fill her with his seed. Yes.” Stav nodded gravely. “Otherwise she will suffer an excruciating death.”

  “That’s horrible!” Charlie ran a hand through her hair distractedly. “That poor girl! So now she had to let Two…Ugh!” She shivered. “You know, I never thought he was the type to do anything like this. Anything sexual I mean. Horrible and murderous and disgusting, yes but sexual…not so much.”