“Truth is that I’m fine when we’re flying by the computer, but there’ll be times I’ll need your vision.” He tapped the patch over his left eye. “This affects my depth perception. You’ve always had better hand-eye coordination than me. I expect you’ll become a skilled pilot.”
“So I was actually better at something than you were?”
He cocked a brow at me in humor. He was doing something with my hands, but I didn’t look. Moving caused the room to tilt.
“Let’s see…. You consistently bested me with short blades and hand-to-hand, while I excelled in wrestling and long blades. You also bested me with pistols, though not the longer-range weapons. You’ve always been better on the skimmers, while I fought better on horseback.”
“Horseback?”
“Yes, Lio. We managed to bring many of our horses away when we fled. We captured your old stallion, Pax. He’s put several foals on the ground these past few years.”
My arms were nearly too weary to lift the sword, but I hefted it up, tip to the ceiling.
“This? Are you better with this weapon?”
“No. The kilij is a weapon of the Sun Priests. You are one of the few among us who knows the kilij forms. I’ve never trained on it.”
“Yet you’ve had it with you all this time.”
He gave a curt nod and turned to leave the practice room. I followed him into the curving hallway.
“You knew you’d find me.”
He paused and then turned to face me fully.
“I have reason to believe that Markus was a spy and a conspirator against our people. When I partnered with him at the beginning, I knew it was a risk, but I expected he’d eventually lead me to you. I was right.” He leaned back against the smooth wall of the tidy cruiser, weariness etched on his face. “He obviously knew you were on Warlan, living with U’shma. This planet wasn’t on our flight plan. Markus coaxed me into stopping there. He insisted that the ship needed maintenance.”
“While in reality, he was looking for me.”
“You weren’t where he expected you to be. We’d been planetside for three days, and Markus had vanished on me. He damned himself by knowing you’d be with U’shma.” Fortunately Griffin was a better gambler than U’shma; otherwise I’d have been at home, exactly where Markus expected me to be.
Wearily, I leaned against the wall opposite him. “Did you suspect I’d be on Warlan?”
He sighed. “Actually, no, I didn’t. I thought Markus just wanted some planet time. I sometimes planted a tracker on him when we landed on a suspicious planet, but this one slipped past me. I was just happy to get away from him for a few days. You and I being in the same bar at the same time was strictly serendipity.”
If Markus was indeed a spy, Griffin had to have lived with his guard up every minute. No wonder he’d needed some downtime. The pity was that he’d had to take it on Warlan.
“He looks like me.”
“Markus is your cousin. I’d suspected that he was involved in the invasion of our planet. He was probably hoping to be elevated to some position of leadership. Under your uncle, he was simply another member of the extended family. With their deaths, and then yours, he’d have been within striking range of the throne. Following your death, only your sister and your son would stand in his way.”
Any sympathy I might have had for the man we’d left in U’shma’s house suddenly evaporated. In fact, I rather wished we’d killed him. Anger curled in my chest, tight and hot. Though I had racked my brain for an alternative explanation, I could only conclude that Markus had nothing but ill intentions toward me. He was my cousin, and his betrayal left me feeling sick and frightened.
“Why did you have my sword with you?”
His gaze dropped to the golden blade in my hand. He then looked at me.
“It’s all that I had left of you. And I’d lost so much already.”
“I’m sorry, Griffin.”
His face was gaunt with old pain, years of suffering.
“It killed me to be with him, day in and day out. Seeing your face in his and yet knowing that he could have been involved in the deaths of so many of our people. Knowing he might have been involved in your disappearance.”
“Why do you suppose he was looking for me?”
He shrugged one shoulder, leaning his head back against the bulkhead. “Perhaps they’d lost track of you. Perhaps he’d decided enough time had passed that he could safely assassinate you. I doubt he had your well-being in mind.”
And this was a member of my family.
“If this is what I’m returning to….”
“What you are returning to is not an easy life. We’re still struggling just to eat and keep ourselves warm in the winter. We are finally settling into a method of governance that most are comfortable with.”
“My return will upset that as well.”
“Your return will give us hope. You will bring the stability that we haven’t had in years.”
I clenched my fists, feeling the sting of raw flesh. My arms hurt, and my body was weary. But thoughts raced one after the other. A future that had been bleak and amorphous yesterday was suddenly full of promise as it loomed before me, yet it was also full of fear. My body sagged. Panic gripped my chest. Something was happening to me. For a moment, I thought perhaps I was dying. I rubbed a hand over my heart and noticed that it was bloody, but I didn’t care. I needed… I needed to go back. Back to Warlan…. I gasped, my knees buckled, and I fought to stay on my feet.
“Lio. Right now. What are you feeling?” His voice was low and urgent.
I shook my head in frustration.
“One word, Lio. What are you thinking?”
“U’shma.”
The word broke from my lips painfully. Cold sweat trickled all over my skin, and nausea carried bile into my throat. I hadn’t eaten in hours, but my stomach cramped and roiled. The need to crawl away and hide battled with the desire to go back, to return to the safety of my life.
Griffin crossed the corridor with dizzying speed, lifted me off my feet, and slammed me hard into the wall.
“He is no longer your master.” He shook me, his harsh face contorted into a snarl of anger. “Do you understand, Pasha? You no longer belong to U’shma. You’re with me now!” He spun me, forcing me face-first into the smooth wall. My arm was wrenched back in a vicious hold. “Mine, Pasha! Do you understand?”
Pain seared through my arms and up into my shoulders. Anger rose, cutting through the haze of panic and loss. The use of my slave name infuriated me… and filled a void.
“Fuck. You!”
I shook with confusion and quaked with fear. I was hot with fury. I struggled against his hold, and he pushed me harder, wrapping a fist into my braid, dragging my head back to look into his face. I kicked backward, connecting with his knee. He had the advantage; his heavy bulk kept me trapped and helpless. My free hand tried to clasp the wall, searching for a grip. Long streaks of blood marred the white surface. I twisted to look at this fearsome man; his face was cold and hard. It was the face of a stranger.
“You no longer belong to the beast. You are mine, Pasha!” One big hand fumbled at the waistband of my pants and brought them down past my hips. He thrust his hard, leather-covered cock against my ass in a brutal show of dominance that left me breathless and afraid.
“I will fuck you if I want to fuck you…. I’ll beat you if that is my will.” He thrust hard, pushing my pelvis into the wall. “Your life is mine, Pasha. If I wish you dead, you’ll die.”
His breath was hot against my face. Blood rushed through my body. My ears rang. My vision began to grow dark. All I could hear was the frantic beat of my heart.
“Say it, Pasha. You do not belong to U’shma.”
Frantically I shook my head in denial. That couldn’t be! He was all I knew… the only safety in my life. I felt Griffin’s hard hand on my flaccid cock, pulling, pumping, forcing me to erection. I opened my mouth to swear, to shout, but instead, I screamed. It
was a primal shriek of rage, of pain and denial.
“Say it, Pasha….”
“No… not… no….” My hips bucked and jerked under his rough handling. Behind me, he’d kicked my legs apart and kept one hand buried in my hair, pressing my face into the wall. I sobbed in pain and arousal. I sobbed in denial.
“Say it, Pasha!”
I resisted, fighting to keep my voice sealed. But he would not be denied.
“Say it,” he whispered harshly.
“Not his! Not U’shma’s!”
The words released a torrent of emotion that threatened to drown me. I was lost, blinded, held on my feet by hard hands and an iron personality. Tears mixed with blood and sweat smeared the walls. I panted, gulping deep, searing breaths.
“You aren’t Pasha. You are Helios. Say it.”
I swallowed hard. The words caught in my throat. I forced them out, my voice sounding like glass shattering. Somewhere deep in my brain, something else shattered, something old and fundamentally wrong.
“Not Pasha.”
I still struggled, twisting my hips away from that brutal hand. I was hard, my cock painful and weeping. I wanted to run, to be free of this stranger. I wanted him to take me, to fuck me. The sound that came from me wasn’t the sound of a grown man, but rather a wounded, frightened animal.
“What is your name?” His voice was a threatening whisper in my ear. “What is your name?”
“Pa…. Helios. It’s Helios. Dayspring.”
“Say it all now.” His hand had grown gentler, a reward for right behavior. I trembled, grateful for the respite.
“I’m Helios Dayspring. I don’t belong to U’shma anymore.”
“Who do you belong to?”
I didn’t answer, and was rewarded with a sharp jerk on my braid.
“Who do you belong to?”
“You. I belong to you,” I whispered.
I’d submitted. Slowly my body began to relax; I slid forward into the wall. I might have climaxed, or maybe I didn’t. I don’t really know. I just knew that once the words came from my mouth, I broke, and the image of my former owner began to slip from my mind. The fear of the future became soft and distant. The hard body pinning me against the wall was the only reality in my existence.
I didn’t cry any more. There was no grief, only a painful shift in my mind. I went limp, and he caught me. Before my vision faded, I saw the face of Griffin Hawke looking down at me; a terrible pain had settled over his expression. I wanted to wipe that look away, but my arms were too heavy to lift. He dragged me back into the gym and laid me on the padded floor. I glanced at my reflection, and in distant shock, saw that my tears were blood; my face was white and ashen. Blood trickled from one ear down to the collar of my shirt. Something very bad was happening to me. Pain seared through my head, more powerful and potent than anything I’d ever before experienced.
My eyes slipped closed, and before I passed out, strong arms wrapped around me and held me close.
HELIOS LAY like the dead, blood pooling around his head, seeping from his hands. I fought down nausea, gathering him in my arms, resting my forehead against his. In spite of the sweat beading his skin, he was frighteningly cold. Occasionally he shuddered, a bone-deep convulsion shaking his entire body. I’d watched him for hours, repeating the same forms compulsively. It had frightened me, reminding me of slaves I’d seen in other places, their wills subverted by personality, training, and technology. I’d expected some sort of reaction to the separation from U’shma.
I hadn’t expected this.
Once he’d ceased shaking, I’d found towels and water, basic first aid supplies, and tended him, ordering the temperature in my own cabin up to preserve his body heat. I’d placed him on my bed like a virgin bride, covered him with a single white sheet, and studied him. I stared and stared, unwilling to look away, for if I did, he might vanish. That’s how magical it seemed to have him here with me, here in my bed.
Sun and Moon. How he’d suffered. How I’d crushed him, forcing my body and my will onto him, breaking the tenacious bonds that held him to U’shma. I remembered the blood on his face, the stink of panic and fear. My erection and his unwillingness.
I dashed to the toilet, knelt on the floor, and vomited into the receptacle over and over, till my throat burned with bile and my head ached and my hands shook. I pushed back from the toilet and leaned against the wall, letting my eye drop closed. I wanted to cry but hadn’t earned that right. I’d dominated him, broken him and patched him back together. It’d been crude and ugly. There was nothing else I could have done. Eventually, Helios would have gone mad, perhaps damaging himself far more than he’d done there in the gym.
In time, he might have been driven to taking his own life.
I’d done the right thing. That didn’t mean I had to congratulate myself for doing so. It was the single most brutal, cruel act I’d performed in my life, and in my life, I’d done some very dark things.
From the doorway I looked at him. His sheet-draped form was still, but I saw his chest rising and falling. His shockingly long hair draped to one side of the bed. Struggling to my feet, I walked to him, my steps heavy, as though I dragged granite feet through mud.
His pale face was still, devoid of dreams. At least I hoped he didn’t dream, because there’d been little joy in his life these many years.
If he did dream, did he have memories of me buried deep in his subconscious? Had he ever dreamed of me, only to forget upon awakening? I’d dreamed of him every night for over five years. Every night. I’d known he was alive and waiting. Had he known somewhere deep inside that I’d find him?
I’d probably never know. He’d probably never remember those dreams.
I touched him, his skin so soft and fine. It was so different than the last time I’d embraced him. Without his facial hair, his lips looked fuller and softer, his strong chin gentled by a slight cleft. I lifted a heavy lock of his hair and it slipped through my fingers. I should braid it, keep it out of his way and untangled, but it was so—beautiful.
Helios Dayspring was handsome. Striking. Compelling and charismatic. He was not beautiful.
The hair slipped from my hand, and I stepped backward, stopping at the doorway. I lowered the lights, not wanting him to awaken in the darkness. When I’d looked at him for longer than necessary, I continued to look. My heart shattered and slowly reassembled.
I’d always loved Helios, from the first day I saw him on the practice field, falling from his horse, then rolling to his feet as though he’d intended to do just that. He’d laughed—bold, brash, and with a touch of self-deprecation. I’d loved that boy, and the man he’d become.
But this man? I didn’t know him.
Or maybe I did. And if he was the man I remembered, he’d be horrified and humiliated by what I’d done to him in the practice room. He’d been prideful before, but now he was to be a king. In my experience, that didn’t always bring out the best in men, even the Daysprings, who’d been our hereditary rulers for countless centuries.
But I looked at the man on the bed, the stranger with a beloved face, and I felt a glimmer of hope. This wasn’t the arrogant young soldier I remembered and loved; this was someone else. Someone humble. Someone who could bend. Who could listen and learn. Maybe his experience would mold him into a better man.
He’d remember those things he needed to know. He would.
He must.
I slid the door closed and returned to the cockpit. We could only go so far on preprogrammed flight plans. A ship needed a pilot, just as a country needed its leader.
He wasn’t mine. I could never forget that. No matter what I felt for him, or the submission I’d forced on him, he was not mine. He belonged to our people. Those who’d trusted me to find our missing king.
I took the pilot’s chair and double-checked our headings and engaged the navigation, then sat in the cockpit, staring out into space.
Chapter Six
I WOKE alone, naked and warm. The b
lankets that I’d burrowed into were light and soft. For a moment I lay wondering where I was… and who I was.
For all my life I’d been called Pasha… slave. I had no real name of my own. Now I was Helios. I blinked and sat up, immediately surrounded by the spicy scent of man… Griffin’s scent. Vaguely I remembered a fight. I remembered anger and fear and insurmountable pain.
My hair cascaded around my body; I never slept with it loose. My arms ached and my hands were stiff and rigid with raw, blistered skin. A white substance coated the wounds. What had happened?
The room was bare and spartan. Weapons lined the wall: blades and energy weapons along with a savage-looking whip and an ancient leather shield.
Carry back your shield, or let it carry you.
It was a familiar old proverb that I couldn’t remember hearing. It was better to fall in battle than to be dishonored by the loss of the shield.
Pretty stupid, if you ask me. I figure you could always get another shield.
Moving stiffly, I rose and crossed the room to where an assortment of personal items lay neatly arranged. Images flickered through a holoframe, face after face that I didn’t recognize. Babies and children. A sweet-faced woman smiling happily. Griffin kissing that same woman. It was a wedding. Griffin’s wedding.
I started to turn away from this poignant reminder of his losses when an image caught my eye. I touched the frame to freeze the image.
It was Griffin, his arm thrown casually over the shoulder of a tall, bearded youth. Griffin’s face was whole and much, much younger. The other man’s hair was cut short to his skull. His stylized beard and mustache were darker than his copper-red hair. He grinned broadly. His posture was arrogant and sure. His left hand had come up to clasp Griffin’s fingers. It was a gesture of casual intimacy. The man was hard; his open shirt displayed roped muscles over his chest and abdomen.
I reached up and ran my fingers through the silky length of my hair, over the smooth planes of my face.
Me? That warrior was me? I looked closer and then blinked as the image shifted. The same copper-haired warrior knelt before an elderly man, his formal robes spilling out to pool on the floor around his body. I studied the face of the elderly man in the image. He was ageless and ancient, his face creased into happy lines. I touched, my fingers sinking through the holographic image.
An Uncommon Whore (2019 Edition) Page 6