LostwithLeo

by Shelley Munro

  Death, and her part of it, should have become commonplace—a means to acquire safety—but this broke her inside and the razor-edged shards dissected her psyche, ripping her apart. She’d admired Leo, the way he’d turned up as promised and approached Iseult with attitude. Not that his bravery had mattered in the end.

  Leo Mitchell was still dead.

  The man had family who’d wonder at his absence. She’d collected the details before Iseult took him for the first feeding. A sob escaped. It was easy to imagine their anguish and sorrow at his passing. She swiped away the rain of tears and wheeled the trolley along the passage to her private rooms. There she retrieved cleansing cloths and pulled back the sheet. Pride and decency wouldn’t allow her to send Leo on his final journey to the goddess in this condition.

  The scent of antiseptic cleanser sent her stomach heaving again, but she took small, quick breaths through her nose and began her self-imposed task. Iseult mightn’t care about the men she killed, but Betrys felt compelled to give them the dignity they deserved.

  With his back done she struggled to turn him again. She shoved and heaved, pushed and tugged, and managed to get him flat. Her quick gaze skirted his wounds, then she frowned. His erection had subsided. None of the other men…

  She shook herself and reached for another cloth. Quickly, she cleansed his shoulders, his arms and legs. His cock… She hesitated, grabbed another cloth and briskly cleaned his groin area. No different from bathing her son. No different from bathing her son. No different—

  Leo groaned.

  Betrys started and let out a shocked eep. She backed up, hand and bloody cloth pressed to her breast. What the goddess?

  Long, tense moments later, after staring at the trolley, the sound didn’t repeat, and the tension eased from her muscles. No, bodies made noises after death. That was it. Nothing to alarm herself about. She inched closer, poked his thigh with one finger and puffed out a breath when nothing happened. A light laugh emerged, filled with relief, a hairsbreadth from hysterical, and she resumed her task.

  “You gonna rape me too?”

  Betrys squeaked and scrambled backward, her feet tangling in the loose material of her robe. She struck the floor ass first and the pain on contact reverberated up her spine. Righting herself, she scuttled farther away until her rear hit the wall.

  His eyes were open.

  He was talking.

  Leo is alive.

  “You’re alive,” she repeated her thought, her mind navigating the tangled web of how and why. She came up with nothing that made sense.

  “Feel like shit.”

  Betrys’s thoughts skittered left and right, leaped over hurdles before she came to a conclusion. “Shush, Iseult mustn’t know you’re alive.”

  “Why?” he gritted out, but he did lower his voice. “She fuck her men to death?”

  “Yes. Always. No one has ever lived before.”

  He tried to move, moaned, his face contorting in a mask of pain.

  “Quiet,” she whispered, her mind jolting back into gear. “You must be quiet, otherwise I won’t be able to get you out of here.” She grabbed another cloth and resumed cleaning him while trying to form a plan. “I can wheel you out of here as normal. None of them will think anything of it. Do you have a shuttle?”

  “Yes, at the spaceport. Everyone dies? What does she do to them?”

  “She fucks them until they die.” Betrys made no effort to pretty her words. “Quiet, let me think. You’re in no condition to fly. Do you have anyone who can collect you?”

  “No one knows where I am.”

  The man seemed to recover a fraction, although he winced with each jerky shift of his limbs.

  “Let me get your clothes.” Dead men didn’t require clothes and her habit was to toss them, but he couldn’t travel home naked. “I doubt anyone will come in here, but I’ll cover you with the sheet. Please remain silent and don’t move until I get back.”

  Betrys tugged the sheet over his scowling face and hastened from the room. Goddess, Leo was alive. She checked her timepiece. If she hurried she could deliver him to the spaceport. She’d have to hire someone to pilot him home because she doubted he’d manage the task without aid. She’d need to use her own funds, take currency from her stash, yet suddenly, she didn’t care.

  Leo had lived and she wasn’t going to let Iseult near him again. He’d fulfilled his part of the bargain and deserved his freedom. She winged a prayer to the goddess that his wounds—especially the one on his stomach—wouldn’t putrefy and kill him anyway.

  She snatched his clothes from the web and raced back. Her shoes slapped the floor and her robe rustled with her haste. One of Iseult’s guards appeared. She slowed and approached him with caution. Normally, they hissed at her, made a series of guttural clicks that raised the hair at the nape of her neck. This time the guard ignored her presence. He wobbled past on unsteady legs, his squeaks similar to Iseult’s earlier discordant tune.

  Betrys waited until he disappeared before darting back to the room where Leo was stashed. She found him off the trolley and slumped against the wall. With an annoyed mutter, she shut the door and hurried to his side.

  “I told you not to move. Iseult’s guards patrol the halls. I never know if I’ll see them. You might have attracted their attention.”

  “Needed to stand.”

  “Here are your clothes.”

  “Give me jacket.”

  “Let me help you with your trews and shirt first.”

  “Jacket,” he insisted, his voice belligerent. He reminded her of her son if he wasn’t getting his own way.

  “Here.” She thrust it at him.

  He wobbled, and she rushed to help him balance. He was taller, his weight a burden, and she struggled to hold him upright.

  “Fingers won’t work.” Frustration and panic laced his tone.

  “What are you looking for? Let me find it for you.”

  “Vial in pocket. Need to drink.”

  “Sit on the trolley. If you fall on the floor I won’t be able to pick you up.”

  He seemed to see the sense of this and let her guide him back. He half fell onto it and gasped for breath. Droplets of sweat beaded his creased brow.

  Once she was certain he wouldn’t topple, Betrys searched his jacket to find the vial he was so worried about. She discovered it in his inside pocket. A small glass vessel containing a milky liquid.

  “Do you want me to open it for you?”

  “Yeah.”

  The pungent scent from the contents made her eyes water. Her nose wrinkled and she held it at arm’s length. “Are you sure you want to drink this?”

  “Can’t feel any worse.”

  Guilt surfaced to thump her over the head. She’d recruited him, reduced him to this. She breathed through her mouth and approached him to hold the vial to his lips. She tipped it and he drank the foul-smelling liquid. He made a gagging sound and fought to hold it down. By the time he’d swallowed the contents, his face was the color of her robe.

  “Do you want to lie down?”

  “Yes,” he muttered.

  Betrys glanced at her timepiece again. “Which bay is your shuttle parked?”

  “C2,” he said, his eyes rolling in an alarming fashion.

  She’d dress him on his shuttle. The longer they spent here, the greater the risk of discovery.

  “I’m going to help you. I’ll put your clothes with you and help you dress later. Then I’m going to wheel you out and load you on Iseult’s fly-mo. You need to be quiet from the moment I wheel you out of here. Okay?”

  “Yesss.”

  His face had taken on a green tinge and he looked as if he might vomit at any second.

  She arranged him on the trolley with his clothes and boots and covered everything with the sheet. She grabbed currency from her stash, and with a quick prayer to the goddess, she opened the door and wheeled Leo outside.

  Although the procedure seemed to take ages, in reality, she made good speed.
She spied several of the guards from a distance, and they all staggered and scuttled in the same drunken manner as the first guard and Iseult. Something strange for her to puzzle out later.

  With Leo stowed onboard, she closed the door and piloted the fly-mo from the mansion grounds. Designed to seat eight, the vehicle was simple to operate, and Betrys used it often while undertaking chores for Iseult. Including the disposal of bodies. None of Iseult’s staff would think it strange for her to leave the mansion. She’d stop by the market and grab the items on Amos’s list along with some of Iseult’s favorite treats to serve at the celebration later tonight. That might improve Amos’s mood too.

  Betrys programmed in the directions for the spaceport—not far from the market—and went to check on Leo. His chest was rising and falling in rapid and shallow breaths, but the green tinge had receded from his features. A spasm vibrated through his muscles, locking his face into a contorted mask.

  Betrys gripped his arm to stop him falling off the trolley. If anything, he appeared worse. What the goddess had been in that vial?

  The spasm tapered off, and she left him to operate the fly-mo during the approach to the spaceport. Her com squawked, a terse employee from spaceport control demanding to know her destination.

  “Mitchell craft. Bay C2 delivery,” she said and thanked her foresight for requiring each male to complete a form with details of their background.

  “Go ahead,” spaceport control said.

  Betrys flew to the correct bay and parked by a medium-size shuttle. She put the craft in park and hurried to Leo’s side. The spasms had tailed off, and now he sprawled like a weak newborn.

  “Let me help you dress. Can you stand?”

  “Think so,” Leo muttered.

  He lurched off the trolley and almost face-planted the floor. “Think you overstated.” She gritted her teeth and struggled with his weight. Finally, she managed to prop him against the wall and yanked his trews from the trolley. His underwear would have to travel in his jacket pocket. “Lift your right leg.”

  He frowned then lifted his left.

  “Okay. I can work with that.” She eased the trews onto his legs and pulled them up. She wrestled him into his shirt and closed the fastenings. For a brief moment, she decided not to bother with his jacket, but he began to shiver. “Jacket next.”

  By the time she managed to cram his feet into his boots, sweat beaded on her chest and forehead and wisps of hair escaped her donut-bun.

  “Okay.” She shoved his underwear into his jacket pocket and slung her arm around his waist. “Let’s get you into your shuttle then I’ll hire a droid to pilot you home. Someone on your end will need to return him.”

  “’Kay.”

  Betrys urged him to the exit. Everything was weird today, and she had no idea how long Iseult would be resting. She couldn’t risk staying away from the mansion for too much longer.

  Leo stumbled, despite her help, and fell. He hit the floor with a thud, his shoulders heaving in rapid pants.

  Panic roared through Betrys as she bent to assist him to his feet. “You’re too big. Too heavy for me.”

  “Can’t…can’t…” Leo’s eyes rolled and the lights went out.

  Goddess, he couldn’t be dead now, not after all this…

  Betrys rested her fingers at the pulse point in his neck and found a heartbeat. A shaky laugh emerged, and she pressed the heels of her hands to her cheeks. On wobbly legs, she rose. The droid would have to help her load Leo into the shuttle.

  She hurried over to the hire desk and made her request. Thank the goddess. There was a free droid. Betrys tried not to think about the loss of currency as she handed over a large amount of shillars.

  “Want do you desire of me?” the silver droid asked on activation.

  “I need you to come with me, lift some luggage then pilot a shuttle to Ione Island on Tiraq. I will write you a note. Deliver this to the owners of the Middlemarch Resort and they will organize your return to Dalcon. Do you understand?”

  “Your orders are clear,” the droid said in a high-pitched voice.

  Betrys shivered. The droid’s squeaks reminded her of Iseult’s exultant singing. She gathered her wits. “This way.”

  Leo was still unconscious on her return. Concern had her sinking to her knees to check his pulse. His lashes fluttered at her touch, his lids lifting extra slow as if they were heavy and cumbersome.

  “Not dead yet,” he muttered.

  “You’re not going to die,” she said in a fierce tone. “Help me take him to the shuttle.”

  “I will carry him,” the droid replied. “Lead and I shall follow.”

  Betrys hurried to the shuttle door and pressed a button to open the door. It refused to budge. She tried again. Nothing.

  “The door won’t open. Do you have a key?”

  Leo’s head lolled against the droid’s silver shoulder.

  “Leo,” she said sharply. “Leo. The door?”

  He mumbled something intelligible.

  “Handprint pad,” the droid said. “Press his hand against the pad.” The droid shifted position and Betrys seized Leo’s hand. To her relief the door opened with a quiet whisper.

  She stood aside and let the droid enter. “Wait while I write the note, then you can leave for Tiraq.”

  “As you order.” The droid set Leo in the seat and secured the harness.

  At least he is an advanced model, capable of basic thinking, Betrys thought as she trotted off to procure a disposable genic mini-tab with which to send a message.

  She arrived back at the shuttle, puffing and out of breath. “Give this mini-tab to Leo’s family. I believe you will find them at Middlemarch Resort.”

  “It will be done,” the droid said, accepting the mini-tab. “Thank you for choosing Zionible Transport for your travel requirements.”

  Betrys took one last look at Leo. He was slumped in a passenger seat, only the harness holding him upright. Or at least that was the way it appeared to her. His eyes were closed again, and his chin rested on his chest. Intermittent spasms danced along his muscles, making him cry out.

  Betrys bolted from the shuttle, but guilt followed like a tail. The door whispered shut after her and she hurried back to the fly-mo, regret chasing swiftly on her heels. But with remorse came a hint of satisfaction. If Iseult had realized Leo still lived she would have requested him for a fourth session and been within her rights. It was the way the contract was worded. And Leo would never survive another session with Iseult. Never.

  Betrys imagined the intrigue Iseult would have felt. Yes, she’d done the right thing. She prayed Iseult never discovered her disloyalty.

  Chapter Five

  “Sir. Sir. We have arrived.” A high-pitched voice spoke, inches from his ear.

  Leo tried to lean away from the irritating sound, but it droned on and on and on until Leo growled in self-defense. He cursed at the blast of light that seared his pupils.

  “Sir?”

  “Who the devil are you?” Leo asked.

  “I am droid 765432, hired to deliver you and your shuttle to the Middlemarch Resort. We have arrived, sir.”

  Leo struggled to rise.

  “Sir, should I remove your harness?”

  “What?” Leo sent the droid a look, felt puzzlement, the loss of time in his own mind.

  “The harness, sir?”

  Leo followed the droid’s gaze. “Oh.” He gave a cautious nod in deference to the ball of pain perched in his head. The careful action tormented him anyway.

  “I shall help you stand, sir.”

  With each squeaky syllable, Leo’s head did a samba. “Fuck,” he muttered when the harness released and his muscles needed to work to keep him upright.

  A silver metallic arm wrapped around his waist and hoisted him to his feet. Leo’s legs were weak and his knees folded. If not for the droid, he’d have dropped to the ground.

  “Have you been drinking, sir?”

  “No,” Leo gasped.

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nbsp; “Leo, you’re back.” Scarlett, his youngest sibling and only sister, skidded to a halt in the doorway of the shuttle. Her mouth dropped open, and Leo would have laughed if every part of him wasn’t aching as if he’d received several kicks from a cantankerous cow.

  “Are you related to him? I have a genic mini-tab for you.” The droid held him with one hand while he reached for the mini-tab with the other.

  Leo dangled, unable to get his muscles to work without red-hot pain stabbing every part of his body. He jerked, trying to remain upright under his own steam, and moaned.

  “You’re bleeding.” Scarlett tossed her black braid over her shoulder and leaned closer to survey him. She straightened abruptly, her sea-green eyes widening in alarm. “I’ll get Saber and Felix.”

  “No.” But his sister had already sped away. Now his older brothers were going to ask questions he couldn’t answer.

  “You are bleeding, sir,” the droid said. “I will help you outside.”

  Leo felt the wetness at his stomach and glanced down to see blood seeping through his white shirt. He frowned, his brain sluggish as he tried to remember how he’d received the wound.

  The droid helped him outside. Actually, no. The droid carried him outside because his messages to his legs refused to transmit.

  His two brothers burst from the resort gardens with Scarlett following. Damn, it was bright out here. So bright, and he couldn’t focus. His stomach was roiling and the scent of blood filled his nostrils.

  The droid halted on their approach. “Are you this man’s family?”

  “Yes,” Scarlett said.

  “I have a message for you.” He handed the genic mini-tab to her and allowed Saber and Felix to take Leo’s weight.

  Leo groaned, despite trying to hold the telltale sound at bay. His head throbbed, he ached everywhere…even his teeth.

  “What happened?” Saber’s expression held concern. The oldest of his brothers, and the head of the family, he’d softened after mating with Eva. He wore his black hair shorter now and his mate saw that it was neatly trimmed. The biggest change though—his mouth generally curved upward in a smile rather than dipped in a stressed frown.

  “Did someone jump you?” Felix, his second brother, ran a hand through his military-short black hair, his grass-green eyes radiating equal worry. He must look as bad as he felt.