She waited for Senth to plead for his brother's life. How could she bear it when she had to turn him down? What could she possibly say that would make him understand her parents' technology must never fall into Destoiya's hands?
Millions of lives were at stake and the freedom of planets not yet discovered. With this technology, Destoiya could send in one lone assassin behind enemy lines, or an entire army. The Conqueror would not stop until she ruled a thousand worlds.
But instead of pleading, Senth sank into a chair in silence, leaned forward, and buried his face between his hands. Saint-Cyr laid a hand on Senth's shoulder.
Neither of them looked at her.
The Praetorian spread his hands. “Your response, Captain?”
“I need time to consider it.”
“Not good enough, Captain. Her Majesty wants your answer now.” Jhareen tapped a wristband communicator. “She's waiting to decide Mr. Antonello's fate.”
Senth clutched his hands together as if he were praying. Still, he did not lift his head.
He trusts me. Even though I hurt him, he trusts me.
How could she let him down? He sat there in silence, waiting for her to do the right thing.
This is what a true man does. He loves his woman enough to trust her, even with a decision like this. This is the kind of man I've waited for my entire life.
“Mr. Saint-Cyr?” NarrAy asked. “How can the Empress have Khyff? I thought he came home.”
The Harbinger's whiteless eyes gave no indication of emotion. “According to the starlines, Khyffen checked in at the gate on Tarth, but he never boarded the ship. I've had locals searching for him.”
“Lieutenant Jhareen, I want proof Khyff is safe before I even think about complying.”
Senth's head jerked up, hope and pride clear. He turned to watch the Praetorian.
Jhareen produced Khyff's work ID, a small lock of hair, and a flatpic.
In it, Khyff stood against a stone wall, bound at wrist and ankle, a leather collar around his neck, shirt torn open. The Conqueror stood beside him, one hand on his bare chest.
Prurient, whoring bitch.
NarrAy showed the pic to Senth and Saint-Cyr.
Senth made a low growling sound. Saint-Cyr turned aside, but gripped Senth's shoulder more tightly. Not at all the response from either that NarrAy expected. They were waiting for her to respond.
“I'll need five days.”
A whispered prayer left Senth's mouth.
Jhareen shook his head. “You have two.”
“Five, or no deal.” NarrAy held her arms out at her sides. “I no longer have possession of the data. I need travel time, time to retrieve it, and time to get it to Destoiya. That's going to take five days.”
“No.” Jhareen shook his head again. “The most I'm authorized to allow is three.”
NarrAy rubbed her chin. “If I can get Senth's help…”
Saint-Cyr tapped him on the shoulder.
Senth stood.
“And,” NarrAy said, capturing Saint-Cyr's immediate attention, “assurances Senth won't be punished for anything he might have done while with me.” She added, “Or will do in the near future.”
Darkened cheeks revealed Senth's embarrassment.
Saint-Cyr's brows shot up. He turned to Senth, head moving as if he appraised him head to toe. “Very well, Captain Jorlan. Done.”
“Where is Khyff now, Jhareen? Is he being cared for?”
“Oh, he's quite safe, Captain.” The Kin's mouth twisted in a sarcastic smile. “Her Majesty admitted him to her stable last night. I imagine he's happy to wait for the three days.”
“You bastard!” Senth was brought up short by Saint-Cyr's hand on his arm. He shook it off and took another step toward Jhareen. “You don't know anything about my brother.”
Jhareen sidled away from him.
“Khyff's not a piece of kkkhh whore like you!”
“Take your answer to the Empress,” NarrAy told the Praetorian. “We'll deliver the goods in three days on Tarth. And if she lays one hand on Khyff…”
Jhareen smirked. “I suspect it's a bit late for that requirement.”
Senth roared like a jungle cat and lunged for the Praetorian.
NarrAy threw herself in front of Senth, dug in her heels and pushed back on his chest with her full weight. She slid backward on the floor, unable to slow him down.
“Take it back!”
“Senth, no!” NarrAy wrapped her arms around him. “He's a Praetorian! He'll kill you.”
Senth's chest reverberated and vibrated against her hands. His throat emitted a series of deep, booming growls.
Fangs glistened in his mouth. He roared again.
The Praetorian backed toward the exit.
Senth roared and lunged.
The Praetorian fled without looking back.
NarrAy nearly fell trying to keep Senth from following, but Saint-Cyr brought Senth up short with a leather loop around his throat from behind.
“Down!” Saint-Cyr commanded.
“Stop it!” NarrAy pushed at the Harbinger. He ignored her.
Senth hissed and yowled and twisted like a mad cat, clutching the collar with both hands.
“I said, down!” The Harbinger dragged hard on the collar with one hand. In the other, he jammed a short prod against Senth's back.
It emitted a spark of voltage that forced him to his knees.
“Stop it!” NarrAy threw herself between them. “What are you doing? Stop this at once!”
Senth choked against the collar, his lips blue.
“Let him go! He can't breathe.”
Saint-Cyr ignored her and jabbed Senth again.
This time, Senth hit the floor and lay twitching.
NarrAy punched Saint-Cyr square on the jaw and sent him reeling across the room. She knelt and loosened the leather from around Senth's neck.
He gasped for air, a dark line of bruises already appearing around his throat. She drew his head onto her lap and stroked hair away from his face.
“When he turns feral like that,” Saint-Cyr said, rubbing his jaw, “it takes violence to bring him out of it. I assure you, he needs a strong hand to rein him in. Kin are hardly the domesticated kittens people think they are.”
“Is that how you punish him? Tie him up and shock him? Is that why he's so terrified of you?”
Seeing Senth was all right, NarrAy eased his head off her lap and rose, advancing on the Harbinger.
He took one step back. “I warn you, Ms. Jorlan…”
“That's Captain Jorlan, and you'll warn me of what?” She jerked the prod out of his hand. “You're pretty fearsome when you're holding one of these.” NarrAy turned it on. It arced in her hand.
The Harbinger retreated a few more steps. “You don't know what Senth's like when he's feral. It takes everything I've got to control him.”
NarrAy thrust the prod at him, and Saint-Cyr jerked back.
“Is that why you drug him?” She set the prod on a higher setting. “What is it you say to control his mind? Do you tell him he's feral? That he needs you? What is it, Saint-Cyr?” She swiped at him again. “Do you tell him to fear you?”
Saint-Cyr bumped up against the wall, both hands lifted. He twisted his head, avoiding the prod.
“Don't, NarrAy.” Behind her, Senth sounded weary and weak.
She never took her eyes off Saint-Cyr.
“I deserved it,” Senth admitted. “I'd've killed Jhareen if I'd gotten my hands on him. He has to punish me. I deserve it. I need him to keep me out of trouble.”
“No, you don't.” NarrAy turned off the prod and hurled it at the wall. It broke into pieces. She walked swiftly away from the Harbinger. “He controls you so you won't leave him, Senth. You bring in a huge amount of income for this man, and you don't need him. The truth is, he needs you.”
Senth shook his head, eyes down. “I have to obey him. I know the rules. I feel better when I do what I'm told.”
“No!” NarrAy st
ooped beside him, one hand stroking Senth's face. “That isn't feeling better, my tiger. That's feeling owned.”
He lifted those pale blue cats' eyes to hers a long moment before he turned to look at Saint-Cyr, still standing across the room.
NarrAy stood. “I want Senth's freedom, Saint-Cyr. I know his contract's almost up. Name your price.”
“You don't want him, Captain Jorlan.” The Harbinger straightened his jacket. “Truth is, Senthys has already grown too strong for me to control him much longer. I had to use his desire to help Khyffen to manage him.”
Senth accepted NarrAy's hand for balance as he stood, and then drew her close to him.
“You used my brother to control me?”
Saint-Cyr made an offhand gesture. “I didn't buy Khyffen's freedom, Senthys. It was handed to him in a legal decision against Stalkos.”
Senth flinched at the name. He looked down at his right hand, his left hand covering it.
“Did you tell her how you got that scar, Senthys?”
“What did you do to him, Saint-Cyr?” NarrAy stepped in front of Senth.
“That scar is from nothing I did, Captain Jorlan. It's from what Senth did.”
She turned back to her young lover, but he refused to look at her.
“Shall I tell her?” the Harbinger asked.
Senth remained quiet.
“I suppose I have to then. She needs to know what you're capable of.”
“Master, don't. Please. I'll stay with you.”
“No.” NarrAy slipped an arm around Senth's waist. “Let him tell me. I want to know.”
Senth stood so still she could hardly tell he was breathing.
“A petty thief working for a former partner of mine named James Stalkos broke into my house one night,” Saint-Cyr said. “I had something that belonged to Stalkos and he wanted it back. Senth heard the thief downstairs and went after him.”
“A thief named Rokko. You had his hand nailed to a table, the way I heard it.”
“You've done some homework. But that story about Rokko dying in prison was an elaborate ruse and completely false. We gave it out to protect Senth. He attacked the man and killed him with his bare hands, and Senth's scar is from Rokko trying to protect himself. Senth took the knife away from him and plunged it through Rokko's hand, pinning him into place. He then cold-bloodedly tore out the man's throat with his fangs.”
NarrAy set a hand over her heart. Beside her, Senth tried to draw away, but she tightened her arm around him.
“The only way I could pull Senth off Rokko was by shocking him until he let go. He was drenched in blood, gnawing the man's throat.” He added, “Senth was twelve years old and just starting into puberty. Kin males only get more aggressive after that age. I started giving him Shackle the next day, and I've kept him on it ever since.”
She clasped Senth's right hand in hers, squeezing it.
“Not to control Senth, Captain Jorlan. To protect him. And to protect everyone else from what he might do.” He brushed at his jacket. “That innocent-looking young man you're holding hands with is a merciless killer.”
NarrAy brought Senth's hand to her mouth and kissed the scar. “I think the only one here who's merciless is you, Saint-Cyr.”
Senth came to fierce attention his gaze riveted on her.
The Harbinger narrowed his predatory eyes.
“All these years, you've let Senth think he was some kind of animal you had to control, instead of teaching him how to overcome his aggression. I've worked around Kin all my life. I know how territorial they are. A HalfKin child who's never been taught how to use his strength can be dangerous, yes. But he doesn't have to be. Senth was protecting his family when Rokko broke in, wasn't he? No one else came to help. When Rokko stabbed him, that's when Senth attacked, wasn't it? When he was hurt and afraid. He thought if he didn't protect the others they'd all suffer like he did.”
Saint-Cyr's nostrils flared. His mouth tightened.
“Isn't that what happened?” NarrAy waited.
Beside her, Senth huffed in his throat like a caged tiger, his body humming with restrained growls.
“You made me lie,” he told Saint-Cyr. “You said I could never tell anyone what happened. You said that was the only way you could make sure no one took me away from you.”
The Harbinger hesitated.
“You said they'd kill me for slaughtering a human.”
“I wanted to protect you, Son.”
“Don't call me that!”
NarrAy drew closer to Senth.
“I've never been your son, and you sure as hell aren't my father.”
Go, Senth! NarrAy smiled with pride.
“I won't let you drug me any more.” Senth lifted his head. “I owe two years on my slave contract, but when that's over, I want my freedom. And if NarrAy will have me…” he met her eyes, drawing their joined hands to his mouth for a kiss, “—I want her, too.”
NarrAy put her arms around his neck and kissed him. “I want you forever, my tiger. I was trying to protect you from being punished when I attempted to end our relationship. I couldn't stand the thought of him hurting you.”
“Nothing he could ever do to me could hurt as much as losing you.”
“Oh, Senth!” She threw her arms around him and pressed her mouth against his.
His arms wrapped around her, hauling her halfway off her feet while his rough cat's tongue licked at hers. He devoured her mouth with kisses.
Saint-Cyr coughed.
They both turned toward him.
“I had already told Khyffen I owed you your freedom.” Saint-Cyr withdrew a note reader from an inner pocket and tossed it to Senth.
He caught it.
“That's your contract. I've already marked it paid in full.”
“What?” Senth flipped open the reader and thumbed through it. He looked over at Saint-Cyr. “Then why did you do that to me? Shock me like that?”
“I couldn't let you risk your freedom attacking Jhareen. Not when your brother's life is at stake.”
Senth gave NarrAy a tremulous smile. “I'm free.”
“I'd like you to consider working for me, Senthys.” The Harbinger cleared his throat. “At union wages, of course.”
“Ffffftt that, Tiger,” NarrAy said. “I have a better offer. The resistance can really use a thief with your talents.” She fingered his shirt collar. “And to tell the truth, I could use a husband, if you're interested in the job.”
Saint-Cyr's mouth dropped open.
Senth laughed. “Fftt-fftt sha kee!” He picked her up and whirled her around. Letting her slide down the front of his body, he drew her tighter for a long kiss.
When he released her, NarrAy ran a finger along his lips. “I love you, Senth.”
“I love you, NarrAy.”
“Ahem.” Saint-Cyr interrupted. “I hate to break this up, but don't you have something to deliver on Tarth?”
“Deliver?” NarrAy shook her head. “You think I'd actually agree to hand over my parents' work to the Conqueror?”
“But…” Senth paled, “—you said … but, she'll kill my brother.”
“Oh, no, she won't, Tiger. You think I'm going to leave my future brother-in-law under that woman's control? No way. But we're not handing over the prototype for perjump technology, either.”
“Then what do you have planned, Captain?” The Harbinger took a step closer.
NarrAy slid both arms around Senth. “We're going to go visit with the Sleeper and offer to test the prototype for the resistance.”
“Test it how?” Senth asked.
NarrAy grinned. “We're going to go get your brother out of there.”
Chapter Twenty
All People's Liberation Army Ship Vandal
Officer's Quarters
NarrAy lay in bed, propped on pillows so she could feast on the sight of Senth shaving.
He used the same kind of razor her father had favored. High tech devices might have ruled in her father's lab,
but at home he'd liked the simple luxury of a good lather and a sharp blade.
Naked from the waist up, Senth had his thighs braced against the sink while he leaned toward the mirror. The muscles in his arm flexed and relaxed when he dipped his razor under water. He shook off the excess and raised the blade to his face again, dragging it slowly up under his chin.
NarrAy used to love watching her father shave. He'd made a game of it. He'd try to soap her nose and she'd dance out of his reach, giggling. She closed her eyes, listening to the scrape of Senth's razor across the stubble on his chin, remembering the sound when her father shaved.
He used to pick her up after he'd shaved and hold her in his arms to let her touch his smooth face.
So many memories, even more precious now that he was gone forever.
She flicked away tears, wiping aside melancholy thoughts with them. Time to get back to business.
O'Venna had been more than happy to agree to testing the prototype with a real jump, especially when NarrAy pointed out that her parents had designed the device using her DNA for all the initial runs.
“It's still only a prototype,” O'Venna had cautioned. “Perjump could be dangerous.”
Perjump, short for personal jump technology. She already knew some of its dangers.
“It's all we have,” he'd warned. “If anything happens to the prototype, there's no way for us to come after you. It could take years before we could reverse engineer what your parents built.”
Wearing the prototype on her belt, she and Senth would disappear from the Vandal and reappear inside the stable section of Destoiya's palace on Tarth.
If everything went right, they'd disable security, grab Khyff, and be back on board in no time.
If everything went right.
How did Senth put it when I first hired him? Oh, yes. “Count on it. Grab and go. Just like that.” She snapped her fingers the way he had.
Senth turned from the mirror, razor in hand. His lazy smile promised paradise. “Impatient, love?”
“Sorry.” She smiled at him. “I was thinking of something. Not snapping my fingers at you. Take your time. I wouldn't want a cut on that baby face of yours.”
At the Mercy of Her Pleasure Page 19