The Starlight Rite

by Sinclair Cherise

  Mella shoved back from the table and charged the blond enforcer even as he stabbed Pard. He blocked Mella’s first punch, and the dark one threw her into a bulkhead. She slammed hard and dropped, hitting her head on the rigid deck. Stunned. When she opened her eyes, she stared at Johnnie, into his lifeless blue eyes. An hour earlier, he’d shown her the picture of his petite girlfriend on Delgato. He’d asked Mella to help him pick out a pretty gift.

  “I wish these benighted zappers would hold more than one charge,” one enforcer said.

  “You should carry two, like I do. Is she alive?”

  Something dripped on her face, and she struggled to look up. The blond stood over her, his knife bloody. “Yeah, she’s moving.”

  “Don’t kill her. She’s got to read that letter before the ship blows. With our luck, her husband is a truth-reader.”

  The ship blows? Husband? Pain stabbed through her skull when she tried to move. What did he mean? She couldn’t look away from Johnnie’s face. They’d killed him; he was only twenty-two, and they’d knifed him. They’d only zapped Cap, though; surely he’d be alive… She pushed up on an elbow. Her breath hitched as she saw the blood pooling around the captain’s body. They’d stabbed him too, that sweet old man so full of stories of his early adventures.

  “By Mardun’s sword.” Still standing over Mella, the blond turned to glare at his companion. “You’re as timid as a greiet. Let’s just get those explos—”

  She’d kill him. Kill him dead like Cap and Pard… Head splitting with pain, Mella kicked hard and connected with the blond enforcer’s leg. He fell back.

  A high whine… Her body spasmed as streams of agony seared down every nerve. Paralyzed. She couldn’t even moan. Every breath hurt, and drool ran from her mouth.

  The dark enforcer glared at the blond. “Cretin. Get her out of here so I can finish. We don’t have time to screw around. I still don’t like this.”

  “Yeah, but we’ll be set for life. Lie low for a while. Then go off-planet and never return.” Taking a handful of her clothing, the blond dragged her to her cabin. “Here, Earther, your husband sent you a message.” He stuffed a holocard into her tight top, groping her in the process. “There, now we can honestly say you got the card.” He stepped out. Her cabin door slid shut, and something thudded on the other side.

  After a minute, she rolled over. Her muscles spasmed and burned. Two tries to stand; two falls. Stomach heaving, she lurched to the door. It didn’t open.

  Dear Prophet, he’d destroyed the controls. Legs buckling, she fell against the door.

  She could hear them moving through the ship, discussing where to put each bomb. Bombs. They were going to blow up her ship?

  Terror filled her, drowning her beneath its weight. Screaming, she slammed herself against the cabin door again and again, clawed the controls.

  Laughter.

  The sound sliced through her hysteria like a knife. Panting, heart hammering, sweat cold on her body, she stared around the cabin. What would open the door? Nothing. Cabin doors were recessed, airtight in case of hull breach. Nothing would… Her gaze fell on the tiny refresher.

  She fell once on the way, and then she stood in the coffin-sized shower stall. Hands shaking, she pushed on the plas-tiles like Cap had shown her. “Four down, two across, one up.” With the seventh tile, something clicked. She set her shoulder against the wall, shoved, and a three-foot section opened like a door.

  Behind the wall was only blackness. A chill shuddered through her. No flashlight. Could she open the hatch at the far end by touch, or would she die there in the dark?

  She sucked in a breath. Hesitated. Silence. The men had gone. No time left. After scrambling into the access tube, she crawled until her head thudded into the outside hatch. Where were the manual levers? She fumbled blindly, remembering the day Cap had shown her his secret. Six locks to ensure an airtight seal. Five of them flipped under her fingers. Where is the last one? Her hands felt numb, icy as she started from the top again. Halfway down, she found the one that she’d missed before. Please, Prophet… She shoved the lever and jammed her shoulder against the door, pushing with all her might.

  It opened soundlessly. The old smuggler had even mentioned that. “After all, little miss, you don’t want anything squeaking when you’re illegally off-loading.”

  Docking cribs usually lit only a ship’s side hatches and front. The stern lay in a pool of darkness. She dropped the ten feet or so to the asphalt. Her legs buckled, and she fell hard, scraping her hands, bruising her knees. She clamped her lips tightly over her whimpers of pain and fear. Pushing to her feet, she staggered through the shadows toward the far end. She made it past an empty dock, another ship—

  With a series of ear-deafening blasts, her ship exploded. She went face-first into the concrete.

  Bleeding, aching, and crying soundlessly, she hid. People arrived, running. Yelling. Medics and port staff. And enforcers.

  In the midst of the chaos, she walked right out of the port.

  Two miles later, in a small park, she remembered the holocard the blond had stuffed into her shirt. She pulled it out.

  Nathan’s face appeared above the card, bobbling since her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. “You’re going to die now, Armelina. Sorry. You shouldn’t have taken an interest in your accounts.” He smoothed his hair and smiled. “I’d hoped you’d kill yourself, but nooo. So I’ll help.” When he smiled, she’d taken a step back. “You always like the cards I give you for special occasions. I thought you’d enjoy one for your death.”

  She stared at the card, stomach twisting. No…no! Although silent now, the hologram of his face still hovered above the card. His eyes gleamed. Amused. She remembered how two dogs had fought to the death in their street. Rather than pulling them apart, Nathan had watched, the same look in his eyes.

  Mella’s fingers clenched convulsively, closing the card, making the hologram disappear. Just as Nathan had made her whole life disappear.

  A sparkle of song broke into Mella’s thoughts, and she shook herself and blinked. The enclave. The courtyard filled with bright flowers and birds. The high melody had come from a tiny golden bird on the rocks. It finished its song and sidled closer to its mate. Mella choked on a bitter laugh. Her mate hadn’t been so loving. She wrapped her arms around herself.

  What she couldn’t get past was that Cap and Johnnie and Pard had died because of her. She hadn’t killed them, but if she hadn’t been on the ship, they’d still be alive.

  Tears seared her cheeks, and her breath hitched. She’d never told them how much she cherished their friendship. Their laughter in her gray life. How Cap had teased Pard about adding hot sauce to everything. Johnnie’s addiction to magnetic jigsaw puzzles that always had a piece missing. The card games and how they’d taught her to bet. The fact she was quiet and solemn hadn’t annoyed them like it had Nathan. They’d treated her so gently. Sometimes Cap would wrap an arm around her and squeeze her, as if to let her know she wasn’t alone.

  And he was dead now. I miss them, miss them so much.

  Mella hauled in a shaky breath and wiped her face. Nothing had changed, even if Nathan had arrived on the planet. Her plan to wait out her servitude, take her earnings, and return home would still work. Her fingerprints and retinal patterns were on file on Earth, and once she’d proven her identity, things would change. She had a few friends—very few—who would help her obtain a lawyer, police, whatever she’d need. Even on paternalistic Earth, money still talked loudly.

  She looked down at her hands and watched them close into fists. And then she’d make sure Nathan paid for what he’d done to Cap and Johnnie and Pard.

  Chapter Ten

  “A dance?” Mella pressed her hand over her chest, trying to settle her pounding heart. “Now? Tonight?”

  Dain turned away from his bedroom armoire to look at her. “An evening meal and then dancing, yes. At the Felin’s Rest Hotel. The Council of Five begins a new session, and they like to mingle in th
e evenings. As one of the council, Grandsir will be there, so it’s expected that I will attend.”

  She didn’t move, and he frowned. “Go to your room and get dressed, Mella. Attire is festive, but not formal. We’ll leave in about an hour.”

  Nathan might be there. The monster loved parties, and as the widow of a galaxy-famous star, he’d surely receive an invitation to any prominent events. “I won’t go,” she said. She gripped her hands in front of her. “I don’t feel well.”

  Dain’s eyes narrowed. “Mella, have I mentioned how I dislike being lied to?”

  “Fine. But I won’t go. You don’t want to drag a kicking, screaming slave to a party, do you?”

  Crossing his arms over his wide chest, he leaned against the wall and studied her. “Why now? You’ve accompanied me before.”

  She couldn’t answer that question. “I-I just hate being stared at…or looked down on like I’m dirt. It makes me sick.”

  “Bothers you, perhaps, but makes you sick is another lie,” he said softly. His face hardened. “Be dressed within the hour, or you will go naked. If you need to scream, so be it. The Felin’s Rest has a restraint pen for obstreperous slaves.”

  Damn the man. “I’ll be ready.” She walked out of his room on shaky legs.

  * * *

  After showering, Dain stepped out of the bathroom, thinking about the unusual reaction of his little thief. Although she had a sensitive nature, Mella hadn’t appeared quite so unnerved since she’d arrived at his home. Why now?

  Frowning, he turned away from the formalwear and pulled on a pair of casual pants and a loose tunic. Arriving late didn’t bother him; Mella’s attitude did. Before they left, she’d explain exactly why a party—this party—caused such concern.

  On the way out the door, he heard a soft chime. After returning to the bedroom, he pressed the house comunit button on the wall. “Speak.”

  “Sir, we have an alarm at the back gate,” reported the guard on evening shift.

  The little fool. As he moved up the ladder to his current position, the enclave’s security had increased until it now rivaled that of the Council Building. No one could enter—or leave—the grounds without the security staff’s knowledge. “Put a level-five charge through the gate, Garwell. I’ll handle the rest.”

  “Sir, don’t you want some guards to—”

  “No need.”

  By the time he reached the back gate, the little Earther had recovered enough to move. Somewhat. She tried to stand and made it to her knees. From there, she stared up at him, eyes huge in the light of the three moons. Almost unconsciously, she put her hand to her mouth, undoubtedly to soothe the burn on her palm from the charged gate. Dirt streaked her face and her clothing.

  Thank Cernun that she hadn’t made it past the gate, or he’d have been forced to cane her.

  “Not a well-thought-out escape, was it?” he asked. His anger faded slightly at her pitiful appearance.

  She shook her head.

  “Come.” He didn’t wait for compliance but grasped her wrist and hauled her to her feet.

  The walk back to the house and then to his rooms was accomplished in silence, his disappointment rising as his anger diminished. In his bedroom, he halted by the chair in the corner and secured both her wrists in one hand. It was past time for her to experience the consequences of dishonesty. “Mella, did I tell you not to lie to me?”

  She stood silent, not meeting his gaze. Would there come a time she would look him in the eyes without masking?

  “On Nexus, our children are spanked for lying. You obviously did not get those lessons in your youth. You will now.”

  Spanked? Horror filling her, Mella tried to yank her wrists away, but his grip didn’t yield.

  “You can submit to your punishment and receive seven swats.” His voice was low and even. The muscles in his face were hard, his eyes level. “The longer you fight, the more blows you will receive.” He paused. “Mella, you cannot escape this discipline.”

  She tried anyway. She couldn’t pull her hands free, so she kicked at him. He didn’t react at all to the impact of her soft shoes.

  “Eight.”

  She rammed her shoulder into him, hoping to loosen his grip. It felt like hitting a rock wall.

  “Nine.”

  Finally she stood, rigid, straining away. He’d never get her to bend.

  He sighed and shook his head. “Ten.” And faster than she could believe, he dropped into the chair and yanked her, stomach down, over his knees. With his left hand, he pressed on her shoulders, then swung his right leg over her ankles.

  She squirmed against his restraint, but his ruthless strength pinned her in place.

  “This will hurt more if your muscles are tight,” he remarked easily, not even out of breath.

  As he lifted her house gown, cool air touched her bare thighs and bottom. “No. You can’t do this to me.”

  “Actually, Mella, I can.” His hand came down on her buttocks with a resounding smack.

  She screamed, more from outrage than pain. He hit me. “Let me go!”

  Slam. Slam. Slam.

  Pain burned across her bottom like a fiery brand.

  He slapped one side, then the other—slam, slam—and stopped.

  Tears slid from her eyes, dropping to the wooden floor. “You barbarian,” she gritted out. “You stupid Nexan. I hate your guts.”

  “I know, little thief. I know,” he said, gently. Slam. “Before you leave my estate, I will find you a better means of survival than stealing.” Slam. “And you will no longer lie to me or try to escape.” And delivered two more very hard slaps to her bottom.

  She went limp, tears scalding her face, the pain and humiliation overwhelming. When he turned her, she hit at his hands, trying to get away from him, but he handled her easily, sitting her on his lap. Fury burned within her so hot, she felt as if she’d smother with it.

  And yet his strength pulled her. The urge to confide in him and let him take care of her crept into her, sneaking around the rage.

  But she didn’t dare tell him. People would do anything for money. Look how easily Nathan was able to hire enforcers to do murder.

  Dain seems honest. And that meant nothing. She’d thought Nathan had loved her.

  And I have no one at all.

  “Let me go,” she gritted out, her breath hitching. His arms only tightened like steel bands, caging her. An ugly sound escaped her as she tried to choke back her grief.

  “I’m not going to let you go,” he murmured. His big hand pressed her face against his chest. “Cry, laria. Cry.”

  She held herself rigid. His lips brushed her hair, a kiss like her father used to give her when she’d skinned her knee. Like a hulled ship spilling everything into vacuum, she felt the pain ripping out of her.

  Sagging into Dain’s arms, she cried. Horrible, wrenching sobs that shook her body. She couldn’t bear it anymore. Betrayed, trapped here, humiliated. Her friends lost. Left alone—left alone.

  Her crying slowed to shuddering breaths. She blinked swollen eyes; her cheeks felt raw from the tears.

  He hadn’t spoken, hadn’t pulled away, just enclosed her in warmth. His hand stroked up and down her back. As she slumped against him, she felt the strength of his arms, the hard chest she rested her cheek upon. His heart beat slowly and evenly; punishing her hadn’t even raised his pulse.

  Her bottom burned like fire. No one had ever hit her or spanked her. And since she’d been a child, no one had held her when she cried. But Dain had cared enough to deal out punishment—and even comfort—despite his anger. Something tightened inside her. This felt right—too right.

  She sighed and pushed herself upright.

  Dain grasped her chin and wiped her wet cheeks. After a long minute’s study, he kissed her softly. “Tomorrow we will discuss your feelings about going out.” He rose and set her on her feet. “And we’ll both skip the party tonight.” A glint of humor filled his eyes. “Especially since sitting down at a dinn
er table might present a problem for you.” He slid his hand over her tender bottom.

  The stinging pain made her jerk, and she pushed him away. “Don’t.”

  His mouth firmed. “Little thief, I can touch you however and whenever I desire. Not only does the law state I have this right, but you gave me the right. Or have you forgotten?” He waited for her answer.

  “Please,” she’d begged him from the auction stand. “I remember.”

  “For twenty-nine more days, Mella, your only rights are water, enough food to prevent starvation, and protection from permanent damage. A lot can happen to a person before lasting damage is incurred.” He gave her a thin smile. “Perhaps the Indenture Hall didn’t explain, but I can also sell or give your contract away. Are you starting to understand?”

  She took a step back in disbelief. He could actually sell her? To anyone? “I understand.” And her emotions swung right over from gratitude to hating him with everything inside her.

  “Clean yourself and then return here in your robe and nightgown.” His hard look said he intended to couple with her this night.

  * * *

  When she returned, he waited in his chair, although he’d changed into his black robe. He set the reader on the side table and snapped off the light, leaving only the glow of candlelight. The open door to the courtyard let in the scent of moisture and the gentle splashing sounds from the fountains.

  He leaned back and considered her for a long moment. Her nipples tightened beneath the silky nightgown. How could she feel so angry and still want him? The shepherds were right—women were weak.

  He had noticed her response, of course. Crinkles appeared around his eyes.

  She flushed and took a step back toward the door.

  He shook his head. “Mella, I am too tired to play Chase the Thief Around the Bedroom tonight. I’m more interested in another game—an adult version of one that Nexan children play.”

  A game? From the uncompromising look in his face, she’d probably not like this sport. Her gaze dropped.