Steel and Promise

by Alexa Black

  Cailyn reached a hand up to her neck. “You pricked me.”

  “Yes.” Teran sucked hard at Cailyn’s wound. Cailyn yelped. Her hand went to her mouth. Courtesans should never make noises like that, she chided herself.

  “I like touching you,” Teran said. “But do you think I would have stayed interested in you if that had been all I did that night?”

  “No, I don’t.” Cailyn reached out to wrap her arms around Teran. “But I’m glad you did it, all the same.”

  “So am I.” Teran raised her head and licked the blood off her lips. “But that’s not why you’re here.”

  Cailyn’s mouth twisted into a wry grin. “I know.”

  “I never understood what other people did. I knew what they wanted, or said they wanted. But why settle for touching someone’s skin when I could find my way inside it?”

  Her lips brushed Cailyn’s wound again. Pain flared through Cailyn’s flesh again as Teran’s lips dragged slowly across the cut.

  Cailyn gasped again. How could she answer? She had never thought of pain at all, not until one of the nobles told her that he’d dabbled on the dark channels, years ago. He’d missed some of the things he’d tried, wanted to flog her. She’d wanted to please him. He hadn’t seemed the type to try anything extreme.

  It hadn’t hurt. Not the way he did it. Like Lord Darien had the first time. The rhythm against her skin had felt like massage. She’d liked the experience but hadn’t wanted to repeat it. Why seek out pain for its own sake?

  “I don’t understand, my lady.”

  “Why not?”

  “People who don’t want pain confuse you? You don’t want it yourself.”

  Teran smirked. “Is that so?”

  She sat up and gestured for Cailyn to do the same. Wondering what this portended, Cailyn obeyed.

  Teran grabbed at Cailyn’s hand. She guided it to her other hand and laid it there. Cailyn raised an eyebrow and wrapped her hand around Teran’s.

  The claws extended, peeking out from under their hands. Teran brought them toward her own chest but stopped just when the claws nearly touched her.

  “Go ahead.” Teran let go of Cailyn’s hand. Her claws hovered just over her own exposed skin.

  “I can’t,” Cailyn said.

  It was one thing to let Teran hurt her. By now, Cailyn was used to that. But to hurt Teran? She’d never bargained for that.

  Teran snickered. “I’ve tasted your blood. Don’t you want to taste mine?”

  Cailyn bit off the words No, of course not. This is insane.

  Teran Nivrai had said so much about blood and skin. Now she offered them to Cailyn. What would she do if Cailyn didn’t take the offering?

  “I’ll cut you too deep,” she mumbled.

  “It’s my own finger. I only want you to guide it.”

  Cailyn closed her eyes, mumbled a short prayer, and opened them again. With halting movements, she brought their hands downward.

  Teran hissed as the claw dug into her skin. The small sound became a deep, full moan as Cailyn dragged their hands along her skin.

  Did it feel the same way to Teran as when Teran did it to her? Cailyn had made vows years ago, devoted herself to her work, to her goddess, to offering service in her goddess’s name. If she enjoyed what Teran did to her, she enjoyed it because she liked giving pleasure.

  Did Teran like the way this felt?

  Cailyn drew their hands away and stared at the bright red line the claw left, vivid crimson against Teran’s skin.

  Her stomach turned. Had she really just done that?

  Teran grinned. “Now taste it.”

  “My lady, I’m not like you. I don’t want the things you want.”

  A steel-tipped hand circled the back of her neck and pulled her head down. “What makes you think you have a choice?”

  Cailyn opened her mouth. Warm, coppery liquid filled it. She choked, coughing at the unfamiliar taste. Teran’s hand pressed and held her there, pitiless, unforgiving.

  Teran gasped, a ragged murmur of pleasure.

  Sometimes Cailyn moaned or pleaded not because she wanted something but to encourage her lady or lord. Did Teran like the pain or just like toying with Cailyn?

  Whether Teran meant it or not, heat stirred in Cailyn’s flesh at the sounds Teran made.

  What the hell was she doing?

  Teran’s grip relaxed. She snatched her hand away. She stared down at the wound and the smeared blood like it had seared her.

  Teran drew Cailyn’s mouth to hers. Her tongue lapped at the blood on her lips and in her mouth. Cailyn shuddered, but at least Teran’s lips and tongue would wipe away the stain. She opened her mouth to offer better access, wanting all of it gone.

  “So,” Teran said, “did you enjoy tasting me?”

  “I—my lady—you know I’ve never been one for blood.”

  “Is that so?”

  “I’d never want to do that to you.”

  “You seem to like when I take it from you.” Her head bent to Cailyn’s wound.

  Her hand slid down to Cailyn’s vulva, smearing Cailyn’s wetness on her fingers. “See?”

  Cailyn twitched. She heard the familiar click of the claws retracting, took a deep breath. She braced herself for the inevitable, and a moment later, the fingers slammed inside her, sudden and pitiless.

  Teran’s lips sucked hard at her wound. Cailyn shivered as the fingers drove into her again and again. She bucked again, barely aware of what she was doing.

  Teran slipped another finger inside. Cailyn writhed, overwhelmed by sensation. Did Teran have to start again so soon?

  Cailyn trembled, overloaded. She twitched like a marionette as Teran’s fingers moved inside her, panted as they plunged into her again and again. She gulped in air and shuddered. Her flesh clenched tight around Teran’s fingers.

  The fingers slid out of her as her mind spiraled to earth.

  “I ought to arrange something for you,” Teran said.

  “Arrange something?”

  “You’re used to me.”

  Cailyn blinked. “My lady, I don’t think I will ever be used to you.”

  Teran snickered. “You are. Used to me and used to serving. But you were so reluctant just then.”

  “My lady, I’m not like you. I would never choose to give pain like you do.”

  “What would happen with someone else?”

  Cailyn shivered. “Someone else?”

  Teran kissed her. “People on the dark channels would be delighted with you, my little one.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  “So you’re not going to resist, then.”

  Teran shook her head. “I have nothing to gain from defying the Councils.”

  “Nothing to gain? How can you say that?”

  “Neither Darien nor Ben will do anything for me.”

  Cailyn kept her hands at her sides, but clenched them into tight fists. “This is about them, my lady? What they’re willing to do for you?”

  “Without Ben’s help, Darien’s help, or both, there’s nothing I can do.”

  “My lady, they aren’t asking you to make some unpopular political move. They’re asking you to torture someone!”

  “I know that!” Teran snapped.

  “How can you just give them what they want?”

  Teran stared down into a glass of vakren. She took a sip of the bitter drink, grimacing as it went down. “It is unfortunate, but…”

  Unfortunate. That damned word again.

  Cailyn’s face must have shown how much she’d grown to hate it.

  Teran lifted her head and stared straight at Cailyn. “Defying them won’t change anything. We both know that.”

  “Do we?” Cailyn snarled.

  Teran scowled back at her. “They’ll just find someone else. The man they’ve captured will either confess or he won’t. Who did what will hardly matter.”

  “Except to you. And to me.”

  Teran’s thin fingers tightened around her glass. �
��To you? Does it matter to you more than it does to anyone else? The people who do this professionally have friends, families, consorts.”

  “My lady, that’s not relevant. Not to you. Not to this.”

  “Are you really so special, Cailyn Derys, that you knowing I’m doing it matters more than one of them knowing the same thing?”

  Cailyn winced. Had she ever thought of that? She’d always figured the people who interrogated prisoners must be strange people. People suited to the job of cruelty. Maybe even people who enjoyed it. She’d never thought further than that. Politics was for courtesans who hoped to gain something from intrigue. She’d never wanted or needed any of that.

  Then she’d met Teran.

  “Listen to me.”

  A hand gripped at Cailyn’s shoulder. She brushed it away, but it came back, insistent. She turned, trapped by Teran’s unblinking gaze. The thin lips below them curled into a sneer.

  “I have no desire to do this. To beat a man like a piece of meat for a government I don’t give a damn about.”

  A hand reached under Cailyn’s chin. Steel sprouted from it. Cailyn froze, afraid to move. The tips of Teran’s claws rested against her skin.

  Don’t touch me. Not now. Not like this.

  “And yet he’s no less a piece of meat for them if I refuse. And their interrogators are trained for torture anyway.”

  Cailyn met her gaze. “But you’re cruel, too.”

  “I am cruel.” The claws twitched against the skin of Cailyn’s chin. “But I’m choosy.”

  Cailyn steeled herself, ignoring the newsteel crawling over her face. “This isn’t funny, Teran Nivrai.”

  “I didn’t say it was.”

  “Fine. You’re choosy. What happens when they choose for you?”

  “Is that what you think? That any time I have an opportunity to be cruel, I will?”

  Cailyn’s jaw tightened. “You toy with everyone. You lied to me.”

  Steel bit into her chin as Teran’s hand clenched around it. She fought not to flinch.

  “Why should you trust me? Why should I trust you, Cailyn Derys?”

  “What are you saying?”

  “You enjoy what you do. Surely that means that you’ll jump at the opportunity to get into anyone’s bed, no matter how boorish, rude, or stupid. Surely, the mere experience of opening your legs to them is so overwhelming that you simply can’t resist it.”

  Cailyn shook with the effort it took to suppress her anger. “Don’t even joke about that.”

  Newsteel slid back into Teran’s fingers with a small click.

  “Joke?” Teran snarled. “That wasn’t a joke. Do you think everything is sexual to me?” Her hand withdrew. “If it were, why would I need you?”

  Her hand slid to Cailyn’s blouse and tugged it open. Cailyn grabbed Teran’s hand. The thin fingers froze in place.

  Cailyn’s breast hung exposed, Teran’s gaze fixed on it. The newsteel emerged, sudden and shining, but Teran’s hand did not move.

  “Don’t you remember what I said to you? That you are a gem, a rare gift?”

  “I remember.” With a pang, she thought of Teran’s hands in her hair.

  Teran Nivrai, the famous recluse, parading her around on her arm. Hungry eyes following as they walked past together. Eyes filled with envy, or longing, or hot rage. Yes, she had enjoyed it.

  Cailyn sighed. Teran still wanted to touch her.

  “You really don’t understand, do you, my lady? You think this is nothing. This is an unpleasant chore, not someone else’s body and mind.”

  Teran jerked her hand away. “They’ve made their monster, little one. Now they want her to perform.”

  “And she will. After all she’s done—hiding from the nobles, hiding from her suitors, hiding from her own son—she will.”

  “Cailyn—”

  “Is that all this is to you? A performance?”

  “Would you do it, Cailyn Derys?” The voice, usually crisp and sharp, sounded heavy and cold.

  “Of course I wouldn’t!”

  “If the High Councils brought you to their meetings, ordered you to bed this man, told you to coax his secrets out of him, would you do it?”

  Cailyn cringed. “They couldn’t do that.”

  “Who says they couldn’t? Guild law? Surely the Councils could suspend such a thing.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  “This is a matter of state security. Who says it’s impossible? You?”

  Cailyn didn’t bother to keep her jaw from dropping. Even the Councils couldn’t suspend Guild law.

  Or so she would have thought a few weeks ago. But hadn’t the Councils just done the same thing to Teran?

  Their monster, ordered to perform.

  What would she do if Lord Keriel came to her and said the state needed her? If he ordered her to seduce someone, told her the security of the galaxy relied on it?

  She had never known any life but the one she chose. She’d gone to the academy even as a youth. For as long as she could remember, her friends and peers had been people like her, people destined to serve the nobility.

  If she defied them openly, where would she go if they rejected her?

  Could she start over? She could try to sell the techniques that had dazzled the nobility. But would it work? Would her new clients exult in her skills and training, or deride her for her disgrace?

  They might do both, thrilling to the very idea of using someone the nobility had cast aside. But could she find any joy in a life like that even if they did?

  “I—” She stopped herself.

  “The others can do whatever they like with me if I refuse them. I don’t have much faith in their tender mercies.”

  The newsteel slid back into Teran’s fingertips. Her hand fell to her side. “And we both know they’ll have even less mercy for this boy if I refuse. He’s already committed treason.”

  Cailyn looked down at the exposed flesh of her breast. Teran’s eyes followed hers.

  Teran reached out again to caress Cailyn’s cheek. Cailyn let her, wrapping her hand over Teran’s.

  Teran made a small, pleased sound. The claws re-emerged with it. “Not leaving me yet? I feared you might.”

  Cailyn shook her head, so firmly it surprised her. “No, I’m not leaving yet. They expect me to be yours, after all.”

  Teran’s fingers tapped the collar around Cailyn’s neck. “Good.”

  Her hands traced downward. Cailyn shook.

  “I don’t like any of this, not any more than you do.”

  “I know.”

  Teran smiled, her lips tight. “But you want me to be braver. You’d like me to fight and lose.”

  Cailyn shook her head. “I’d like you to try to win.”

  Teran looked down. “I’ve already lost, little one. There’s nothing more to do.” Her face hardened. “Unless you want me to give—more—to Lord Keriel.”

  Would it help? What if it would? Cailyn bit her lip to keep from asking it. How could she even think a thing like that?

  “No, my lady,” she finally said.

  Teran turned toward her room. “Will you come to bed?” She slid down the zipper on her shirt.

  “I’ll come in,” Cailyn said. She slipped out of her clothes and nestled in beside Teran.

  Teran made no move to touch her. With a small sigh, she wrapped her arms around Teran.

  “I thought you wouldn’t want to touch me, knowing what I’m about to do.”

  “You haven’t done it yet,” Cailyn answered.

  “And when I do, it will poison my touch?”

  Cailyn moved closer. “Maybe,” she whispered, hoping Teran wouldn’t hear.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Cailyn’s eyes cracked open. The sun filtered in from the windows. Teran still slept, her body pressed up against Cailyn’s. Cailyn reached out her hand to smooth away a strand of Teran’s hair.

  Teran looked harmless now, her hands at her sides, the claws tucked away, the fingernai
ls glinting silver. Flecks of blood still dotted her lips, but they could have been anything: remnants of juice, or wine, or some exotic sauce.

  Cailyn slid her fingertips down Teran’s face. Was this really the face of a torturer? She traced her way down to Teran’s neck and felt for the heartbeat there.

  Lord Keriel said she was in love. Was it true? She’d loved Mariel enough to give herself to someone for him.

  Mariel.

  He’d been strong. Strong and big. How had he died? Teran had said he’d wasted away. Cailyn had heard of sickness like that, especially on remote planets like Nivrai. But she had never seen it, and Teran hadn’t told her enough to be sure.

  Had he taken a long time to die? What had he looked like, in those final months, the toned body ravaged by disease? Had Teran cared for him herself, like a servant would? She thought of Teran caring for her after their sessions together and guessed Teran had.

  Then she’d cared for Cailyn, in ways she said herself she did for no one else. But did that mean Teran was in love with her?

  Teran wanted her. She’d felt that desire in the fingertips that clove her skin and the biting leather that tore into her flesh.

  But Teran had also lied. She’d promised Cailyn she’d find some way out of this mess, but when it came down to it she’d barely even tried.

  Cailyn stilled her hands, and Teran’s eyes fluttered open. They looked at Cailyn a moment, then flicked to Cailyn’s hand against her skin.

  “Go on,” she murmured.

  Cailyn froze.

  “You want to touch me. Do it.”

  “My lady?”

  “You put your hands on me. It’s not my desire that sparked this.”

  She brought a clawless hand to Cailyn’s chin and drew it up to look her in the eye. “Is it?”

  Cailyn’s fingers twitched. This skin under her fingers—could she bear to touch it once it had harmed someone for real?

  She wanted to touch it now. For as long as she could before it revolted her.

  “No, my lady,” she said.

  “Then go on. You should know I crave your touch.”

  “I know. But you want my pain. I can’t give that any more. Not when I know what you’re about to do.”

  Teran lifted her hands. The claws extended with a soft metallic sound. She turned her hands over and over and watched the light play on the steel.