She’d devised her plan very early this morning after a shouting match with the elder Alonov. He’d only backed down because she’d told him about an advantage she would have much rather kept to herself. Using a karron’s bite, she’d cunningly injected “Shadow” lenitas, microscopic biomechanical devices capable of producing a wide range of results, into one of the Outcasts. The Shadow agent would become Isolaund’s obedient servant once the lenitas had taken control of strategic areas of their mind. Alonov wanted Isolaund to use the Shadow to eliminate the only witness to his assault on the captive, namely Arrista. Isolaund assured him she would do as he directed.
Instead, she’d set a very different plan in motion.
The massive door at the far end of the training hall banged open, snapping her attention to the intruder. Rather than General Alonov, who had developed an infuriating habit of barging in on her, she found her brother, Indrex, striding toward her. He was dressed simply, at least simply for Indrex in black pants and a white shirt topped by a heavily embroidered vest. His pale blue hair flowed freely to his shoulders and impatience shown in his shimmering crystal eyes. Though she was his elder by two season cycles and her accomplishments far exceeded his, Indrex had been chosen by the Ayrontu to represent them on the Guiding Council. The blatant sexism never failed to chafe, but it was a fact of life among the Sarronti.
“What do you want?” he demanded as she reached her. “I don’t have time for one of your dramas today.”
She’d nearly forgotten she’d summoned him, had never dreamed he’d actually respond. She’d sunk beneath his notice the moment he was elected high councilor. Whenever she wanted to speak with her exalted brother, she had to go to him and hope that he’d honor her with an audience. It was ridiculous.
“Well?” he prompted, foot tapping.
“Has the council decided what to do with Toxyn Jow?” The idiot had been arrested when his unauthorized attack on the human females resulted in Alanov’s son being captured by the Outcasts.
“He will be stripped of his possessions and designation. As of this morning, he is a member of Witernel.”
She shuddered. Witernel was the designation given to manual laborers. Most of the Ayrontu would consider that a fate worse than death. “What about Farlo Alonov? Are you going to sanction an attack on the Outcasts? The general is anxious to rescue his son.”
“We haven’t decided yet.”
Her brows arched at that. “And General Alonov is allowing your indecision?”
“General Alonov is commanded by the Guiding Council, not the other way around.” He sounded indigent, so she let the subject drop. She needed him calm and agreeable, not riled. “Was that it?”
She swept her arm toward the door leading to her workroom. “The rest must be spoken away from curious ears.”
He rolled his eyes but followed her into the adjoining workroom.
She carefully closed the door before she explained. “I know the younger councilors would like to get rid of Alonov, but he’s still popular with the older generation.”
“Tell me something I don’t already know.” He crossed his arms over his chest, looking annoyed and bored.
“I have a recording of Alonov attempting to rape one of the human captives. He also punched Arrista in the face hard enough to knock her unconscious. His behavior has been unacceptable for a long time. Now we have irrefutable evidence that he’s out of control.”
His arms slowly unfolded, and he stepped closer. “Show me.”
Meticulously suppressing her triumphant smile, she motioned him to her workstation and accessed the slightly edited file. His eyes widened and his head began to shake as he watched the events she’d just described.
“That looks like the grotto,” he pointed out. “There is no surveillance in that area. How was this captured?”
“As you know, I don’t trust anyone. Arrista wears a pendant that conceals a tiny camera.”
His laugh sounded more like a scoff. “Were you spying on her or those around her?”
“Both. The device is on a twenty hour loop, so I checked the recording shortly after I learned that the Outcasts had abducted her.”
“That is still in debate. It’s just as likely that she went willingly because she is spying for them.”
Isolaund’s compulsion made that impossible, but the detail was irrelevant to what she wanted him to do, so she ignored his argument. “Will this help you curtail Alonov’s power?”
“Absolutely.” He looked at her and smiled. “I’m glad to see you’re finally coming around. Transmit the file to me, and I’ll do the rest.”
Coming around? It was all she could do not to laugh as he left the workroom. She would never “come around” to the belief that some sort of peace could be established with the Outcasts. This planet belonged to the Sarronti, and no one else! Her attitude was much closer to Alonov’s than Indrex’s. Too bad the myopic general kept attempting to control her. If he’d been willing to work with her, they could have been an unstoppable force.
ARRISTA WOKE UP ALONE and disorientated. She blinked away sleep’s muddle and looked around the room. This wasn’t the underground. She was in the metal monstrosity the Outcasts called the Wheel. This bed and the suite surrounding it belonged to Torrin. Her new master, an offworld mercenary.
She took a deep breath and sorted through her memories of the day before. Physically, she felt much better. Her headache was gone, and her face felt completely normal, which was miraculous after the abuse General Alonov had delivered. She felt rested and well-fed for the first time in many season cycles. Lady Isolaund didn’t intentionally starve Arrista or deprive her of sleep, but her mistress was so encumbered by responsibilities and concerns that she often lost track of the simple things.
With Arrista’s physical needs examined, she turned her thoughts inward. Emotionally, she was not nearly as well-adjusted. She was confused, frustrated, and...enamored? She didn’t understand what she felt for Torrin, had never felt like this before. He fascinated her, yet when she looked at him, she felt much more than curiosity. She wanted to touch him, kiss and press against him. He stirred her desires like no one she’d ever met. He’d rejected her when she offered sexual service, yet responded when she simply kissed him.
I never go where I’m not wanted. That had been his explanation. The attitude was so out of character for a Jintta male that she struggled to believe him. He claimed not to be Jintta, said he was no better than any other. But she knew from a lifetime of experience that designations didn’t need to be specifically defined to be present. This suite of rooms and the deference with which others treated Torrin proved that he was every bit as much a Jintta as any Sarronti warrior.
She sighed, wishing life didn’t need to be so unmerciful. There was still a very real possibility that Torrin’s behavior was some sort of game, a psychological manipulation that increased his pleasure. Was he trying to make her fall in love with him so he could ridicule and objectify her once she offered her heart, as well as her body? Some members of the upper designations could be incredibly cruel.
Pushing back the covers, Arrista crept across the room. Her borrowed clothes were ugly and slightly uncomfortable but still relatively clean. She cautiously triggered the door and surveyed the outer area without leaving the safety of the bedroom. No one was about. Apparently, Torrin had returned to his duties. Good. This would give her an opportunity to be useful.
She quickly moved about the cabin returning items to their places, if those places were obvious. She made the bed and folded up his discarded uniform, which he’d left on the floor. Her forehead wrinkled as she performed the simple task. Where did he keep his garments? There was no obvious wardrobe in the bedroom, and the cabin didn’t have a dressing room. Unsure what she should do with the clothing, she set them neatly on the foot of the bed.
In the underground, she would have prepared a light meal for Lady Isolaund, but Outcast food seemed to come from that strange device over by the table. She
would have to request instruction on its use and the sorts of food he enjoyed.
She looked around pleased, yet frustrated. That hadn’t taken long at all, and there was nothing left for her to do. Maybe this was why he insisted she not serve him. Had Outcast technology replaced the need for servants? The Sarronti had advanced technology also, but they tried not to depend on it unless there was no other choice.
Her stomach grumbled, and she realized she hadn’t ingested her morning portion of lortim. She sighed. She’d hoped serving Torrin would be easier than serving Lady Isolaund, but apparently he was also preoccupied with his responsibilities.
He entered the cabin a few minutes later with a mid-sized bottle filled with a light green liquid. Was that the Outcast version of lortim? Why had she presumed it had anything to do with her? Ashamed of her arrogance, she lowered her gaze.
“Good morning.” His voice was deep, as always, but oddly cheerful. “Did you sleep well?”
Was he mocking her? She’d fallen asleep safe and comfortable in his arms. “Yes, sir. If you will show me how to use the...creation device, I will make your morning meal.”
“I have a better idea.” Rather than moving toward the device he’d used the night before, he moved toward a similar one inset into the wall by the bedroom door and brought it to life with a series of flowing gestures. “Did that uniform fit? There are a couple of size variations.”
“The fit is not the problem, sir. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but I would be much more comfortable in a skirt or dress. If you could possibly create some fabric and a needle and thread, I can sew my own garments.”
“I know Kage is working on another upload from the battle born. It will give us a wider range of female focused options. This will have to do for now.” He activated the machine and handed her a uniform identical to the one she wore. “Dr. Foran wants you to try this lotion.” He handed her the bottle as well. “If it works as he intends, it will allow you to stay outdoors for longer periods of time.”
She nodded, raising her gaze. His appeal was magnetic. She couldn’t seem to keep herself from looking at him whenever he was near. “The upper designations use such ointments. They are much too costly for the Niffal.”
“Do they work?” He looked rested and clean, his hair drawn back and secured as per usual. Last night it had been free, falling in soft waves around his face. She’d run her fingers through the long strands while his mouth moved over hers.
Shaking away the stimulating memory, she said, “I believe so. Lady Isolaund seems to go wherever she wishes day or night.”
“The doctor said to use a lot, and to reapply at midday.”
She thanked him and hurried into the bathroom. After slathering her body with lotion, she put on the new uniform and opened the door to ask, “What shall I do with the old uniform?”
He grabbed his uniform off the foot of the bed and joined her in the bathroom. His tall form seemed to shrink the already small room. “Everything is recycled on a spaceship, and I do mean everything.” He kept a respectful distance, not even trying to touch her. She couldn’t decide if she was relieved or disappointed, but his gaze lingered on her face and awareness pulsed between them. “The items we discard, even water, and bodily waste, are broken down into energy molecules and used to create something new. There are two recylers in this cabin, one beside the nutri-gen, the other right here.” He pulled open a flip out compartment and stuffed both uniforms into the angled space before closing it firmly. Something deep in the wall rumbled as he motioned toward the door.
“What is a ‘nutri-gen’?” she asked as they returned to the outer room.
“It’s a three-dimensional printer. This cabin has two. The nutri-gen produces anything that’s ingested, food, beverages, even medications.” He nodded toward the device he’d used the night before. “The utility generator creates everything else.” The second device was inset into the wall by the door to the bedroom.
She understood what he was saying, knew what a three-dimensional printer was, but couldn’t even begin to comprehend how it was accomplished. “Are the devices hard to operate?”
“Not at all. Let’s eat first, then I’ll show you.” He made a sweeping gesture, drawing her attention toward the small table on the other side of the room. A tray rested in the middle, heavily laden with food and beverages.
“Is all of that for us?” He smiled, but she was horrified by the waste.
Apparently reading her expression, he said, “Anything we don’t eat is recycled. Nothing goes to waste on our ships.”
Relieved by the reminder, she followed him to the table, and they sat facing each other. The food was unfamiliar, but she ate whatever he offered, not wanting to offend her new master. If she had to serve someone, and every Niffal did, then she wanted it to be Torrin.
The conversation was light and moved quickly. He explained what the Outcasts were trying to accomplish and asked her subtle questions, trying to get her to open up regarding the world below. She offered generic information, trying to keep her answers factual yet harmless.
They finished eating, and he put everything, including the dishes, in the recycling unit. No wonder there were no Outcast servants. Machines did all the menial tasks. If he didn’t need her to clean and cook, or launder his uniforms, how would she ever convince him to accept her service? This was a disaster.
By the time they left the cabin, Arrista was tense and depressed. He led her a short distance down the hallway, then stopped in front of another door. “You’re not in the system yet, so I’ll have to let you in for the next day or two, but there’s a manual release on the inside. You’ll never be trapped, but it’s best if you don’t wander around without an escort.”
What was he talking about? Why were they here?
He scanned open the door and ushered her inside. The accommodations were identical to his. “This will be your cabin from now on.”
Her eyes widened as panic surged through her system. “Why?” she cried. “What have I done to displease you so?” The kiss. It had to be the kiss. She bowed her head, frantically blinking back tears. “I humbly apologize for kissing you. I know it was wrong, and I—”
His warm fingers curved beneath her chin, raising her face until their gazes met. “You did nothing wrong. This is not a punishment.”
Throat burning with suppressed emotions, she could do nothing for a moment but fight for composure.
He lowered his hand and stepped back, reestablishing the buffer he carefully maintained between them. It was as if he thought she were contagious with some horrible disease and simply brushing against her would contaminate him. “You are not a servant anymore,” he insisted. “You deserve your own space.”
She didn’t want her own space. She’d never been alone in her entire life. Just the thought was terrifying. Her lips trembled, so she pressed them together, scrambling for a defense he would understand. “You say that I am free to make my own decisions.”
“You are. Nothing will be forced on you. We want you to be happy here.”
Determination burned through her fear, allowing her to calm down and strategize. “It would make me happy to remain in your cabin. I choose to leave things as they are.”
He folded his arms over his chest, and his gaze slowly narrowed. “That’s not an option.”
“Then I am not free.” Her chin came up, and she dispersed the last of her panic with a deep breath.
“Being free doesn’t mean you get everything you want. It means you get to choose between the available options. Remaining in my cabin is not one.”
She had to convince him, had to make him understand. “I must serve someone. A Niffal has only one purpose. Without it, we are—”
“You are no longer Niffal.”
If Torrin didn’t accept her, she would be unprotected. She would be summoned again and again, and she would rather be dead than go through that again. She moved toward him slowly, but he caught her shoulders and kept her away with the str
ength in his brawny arms. “Please don’t send me away. I will do anything you want.”
“I know you will, and that’s the problem.” He waited until she looked at him to continue. “I want you, Arrista. I want you badly. If we kiss again, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop. This is for your protection.”
“I don’t understand. You would never harm me. The danger is out there, not in your cabin.”
He lunged so suddenly, she cried out. In an instant, her back was against the wall and his body pressed into her front. He dragged her hands over her head and bent to claim her mouth. This kiss was very different from the ones they’d shared the night before. He forced her lips apart, and his tongue pillaged her mouth, taking what he wanted with or without her cooperation.
Shocked by his aggression, she instinctively tried to twist away. She couldn’t move, could barely breathe. Fear sparked within her, and he immediately released her mouth. He remained close and kept her wrists firmly clasped in his fingers. His face was so near, she felt his breath on her lips.
“Do you understand now?” His voice was even lower than usual, and his gray-green eyes seemed to swirl. Or was her head spinning? “You’re afraid to refuse me, and I’m afraid I won’t be able to resist. I will not hurt you in any way, so this is how it must be.”
“But—”
He silenced her with another kiss, this one less forceful. His hands released her wrists, and he entwined their fingers, keeping her arms in place against the wall. She responded this time, stroking her tongue against his as his scent filled her nose and his taste flowed through her entire body. She felt hot, and her core began to ache. She moaned, arching her back, trying to press closer. He was strong and warm. Wasn’t this proof enough that he would keep her safe?
His lips tore away. For a moment all he did was pant, his forehead pressed against hers. Then he straightened and wrapped his arms around her, tucking her head under his chin. “Everything is new and strange up here. You need time to explore, to determine what you want.”
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