Unleashed by the Defender: A Kindred Tales Novel

by Anderson, Evangeline

  Twenty-Eight

  Imani walked into the courtroom on shaky legs. Though the massage had been meant to calm her and ease her tension, she couldn’t help feeling more tense than ever.

  Shouldn’t have done that, whispered the little voice in her head. You know you shouldn’t have let him do that to you, Imani. How can you keep any professional distance between yourself and your client when you let him lap your pussy and make you come all over his face that way?

  Imani didn’t know but she did her best to push the scolding little voice away as everyone rose for the entrance of the judge. Opposite her were Mistress Bittlebum and the green-haired Prosecutor, as well as another one of the morphids. The way the light caught on its shiny pink shell made her feel sick to her stomach.

  Judge Thoughtgood had lime-green hair today and an outfit to match. She looked sternly down her nose at Imani.

  “Well, Councilor, I thought you promised me you could prove that big brute of a Kindred was safe to be around?”

  “I beg the court’s pardon, your Honor, but what do you mean? My client is perfectly well behaved.” Imani nodded at J’are, who was sitting quietly and wearing the thick leather harness around his arms again. She had hated to put it back on him, but she knew the judge wouldn’t be happy to see him without it. Still, as big and menacing as he looked, he had been as quiet as a lamb. So what could Judge Thoughtgood be talking about?

  “I’m referring to the fact that he blew a hole in the wall of the Luxx hotel and caused thousands of credits of property damage!” Judge Thoughtgood exclaimed. “I find it truly shocking that you would dare to show your faces in my courtroom and pretend like nothing happened this morning!”

  “What? But your Honor, that is simply not true!” Imani exclaimed. “J’are wasn’t responsible for the bomb that went off—it was planted there by a third party. Possibly the same one that attacked me on the access bridge last night, as we were leaving court and trying to get back to the hotel.”

  “Is this true?” Judge Thoughtgood frowned. “You were attacked?”

  “I have had two separate attempts on my life since leaving your courtroom yesterday, your Honor,” Imani said, nodding. “And both, I believe, involved morphids.”

  She looked pointedly at the huge pink praying mantis sitting beside Lady Bittlebum. The immense insect looked back, it’s vast, compound eyes completely blank.

  “That’s ridiculous, your Honor!” Lady Bittlebum cried, before her lawyer could say anything. “Everyone knows that morphids are completely harmless. They can only mindlessly obey the one who owns or controls them—the person they acknowledge as the ‘queen’ of their hive.”

  “Well maybe this ‘queen’ of theirs is the one having them attack me,” Imani shot back. “And you’re the only one I see with a morphid sitting beside you, Lady Bittlebum.”

  “Oh, how dare you? How dare you?” Lady Bittlebum sputtered, her lemon-yellow hair quivering with rage. “Your Honor, I must protest this rude talk, right here in the courtroom!”

  “Careful, Councilor.” Judge Thoughtgood glared at Imani. “You’re on very shaky ground right now. Unless you have better proof that Mistress Bittlebum was trying to kill you than just the fact that she happens to have a morphid servant, I’ll ask you to keep your suppositions to yourself.”

  “I apologize, your Honor,” Imani said coolly. “My nerves are just a little on edge right now—considering that someone has tried to kill me twice in the past twenty-four hours.”

  “Well, that would tend to unsettle one,” the judge admitted grudgingly. “Still, I also had reports of your client running down the hallway and having to be restrained by guards. From what I heard, many Mistresses were frightened out of their minds by the display.”

  “He was trying to catch the morphid who set the bomb in the first place,” Imani protested. “I’m sorry if anyone was frightened but J’are was just trying to protect me.”

  “Yes, well, he does seem very attached to you,” Judge Thoughtgood mused. “But I’m still not convinced that he can be allowed out in polite society safely.”

  “We were at the public anti-grav pool for several hours today,” Imani offered. “And absolutely nothing illegal or improper happened.”

  She felt her cheeks get hot as she spoke. Nothing improper except the fact that she’d allowed her client to go down on her and massage her with his tongue. God, she still couldn’t believe she’d let him to do that! What was wrong with her being so unprofessional?

  But here in court was not the time for self recrimination. She pushed her guilt aside and concentrated on keeping her face blank.

  “Be that as it may, I would like to see this exemplary behavior for myself,” Judge Thoughtgood said.

  “Can your Honor not see now?” Imani gestured at J’are. “Look how calm and composed my client is.”

  “Yes, but this is a quiet setting, not a crowded area with a lot of noise and people, Councilor.” The judge gave her a stern look. “I cannot have this bodyslave unleashed upon the public until I see with my own eyes that he won’t become triggered in some way and go berserk in a public setting.”

  “But—” Imani began but Lady Bittlebum interrupted.

  “If I may make a suggestion, your Honor,” she said. “I’m having an intimate little party at my house tonight—just fifty or sixty of my closest friends. Why not have the Defender and her client come? And your Honor is, of course, invited as well. That way you can observe the brute properly.”

  “Well, now that’s an idea.” Judge Thoughtgood looked thoughtful. “I suppose a gathering like that would be an ideal setting to judge if the Nightwalker can be trusted in public.”

  “I also have Horvath guards on hand, in case he gets out of control,” Lady Bittlebum said.

  “Your Honor, I must object to this idea,” Imani protested. “The Horvaths abused my client when he was down in the “hole” in the Yonnite detention facility. Seeing them again is difficult for him. Also, Mistress Bittlebum’s home is the place he grew up with his adopted mother, Mistress Hownow. Being in that setting—in a home which would rightfully belong to him if he hadn’t been cheated out of it—will be extremely stressful!”

  “Which makes it an even better test of his self control,” Judge Thoughtgood said decisively. “I like this idea, Lady Bittlebum. It was very kind of you to suggest it and offer your home as a setting for this test,” she added, nodding at the lemon-haired Mistress.

  “Thank you, your Honor. I just want to see that justice is done.” Lady Bittlebum preened importantly. She turned a poisonous gaze on Imani. “The reception starts at nine tonight. See that you and that scruffy bodyslave aren’t late.”

  J’are glared at the lemon-haired Mistress, a low growl rising in his throat.

  Quickly, Imani put a hand on his arm to calm and silence him.

  “May I ask if the court is doing anything to find the real killer of Lady Zangelo?” she asked, arching an eyebrow at Judge Thoughtgood. “Since it has been proven that my client is innocent?”

  Judge Thoughtgood frowned.

  “That is a matter for the Yonnite Peace Keepers force and not you, Councilor. Kindly confine yourself to your own case.”

  Imani wanted to protest that the murder which someone had tried to pin on her client was her case—or an integral part of it, at least. And she also wanted to protest the idea that she and J’are go to the reception at his old house. But it was clear that the judge’s mind was made up.

  “Yes, your Honor,” she said woodenly.

  “Very good. Then I’ll see you tonight at Lady Bittlebum’s party. If I judge that your client is behaving himself in a civilized manner and that he poses no harm to those around him, I’ll release him permanently into your custody and you can take him wherever you like,” Judge Thoughtgood said. “If, however, I do not like his behavior, it’s back to the detention center he goes and from there, immediate execution. Do I make myself clear, Councilor?”

  “Yes, your Honor
.”

  Imani swallowed hard. Tonight would be a test and failing it would mean J’are’s life. Could he pass this trial? Especially during the evening hours, when his feral side would be so much harder to control?

  He’ll have to, she thought, casting a sidelong glance at the big Nightwalker. If he doesn’t, he’ll die.

  And there would be nothing she could do to save him.

  Twenty-Nine

  “How do I look?” Imani held out her arms and did a slow turn.

  “Well, the pain collar remote is very prominently displayed. Judge Thoughtgood will be pleased” J’are said dryly.

  He nodded to the beaded necklace she wore with the remote dangling from it like some kind of strange ornament. They had decided it would be best for her to wear it openly, so that the judge could see that Imani was being prudent and responsible—not that she would ever use it. She had assured J’are of that and he believed her.

  “No, not the pain remote—the dress. Is it too much?” Imani asked anxiously, indicating the Yonnite dress she was wearing.

  It was the fanciest one she’d worn yet—a brilliant turquoise blue with a short cape of blue and green feathers which looked spectacular against her brown skin—and she looked gorgeous in it.

  But then, J’are happened to think she looked gorgeous in anything…or nothing at all.

  “Fucking perfect,” he said, trying not to look at the matching lace panties, which clearly showed the top of her pussy slit. But when he looked away from her pussy, his eyes fell on her breasts instead, which were barely covered by a band of turquoise lace. The plump, dark points of her nipples were pressing against the thin fabric, making him ache to suck them again.

  Gods, this wasn’t going to be easy, he thought, forcing himself to look away altogether. His feral side was so close to the surface. By rights, it should have free reign at this hour. But J’are was staying in his thinking mind with a conscious effort of will and holding his feral half at bay. He couldn’t let it take over tonight—the result might mean his death.

  “Are you all right?” Imani asked softly.

  “Fine.” He kept his eyes down on her feet, clad in dainty little black slippers.

  “Then why won’t you look at me?” Imani asked. “J’are, if this is about what happened at the spa—”

  “It’s not. Well, not exactly.”

  They’d already had a talk earlier about how the tasting at the spa had been a “mistake”—one Imani apparently didn’t intend to repeat. J’are had agreed that they shouldn’t have done something so unprofessional together and that they shouldn’t speak of it or do it again. But he couldn’t help the way he felt—couldn’t bury the knowledge that he was falling in love with his lovely Defender.

  “What do you mean ‘not exactly?’” Imani asked, frowning.

  “I mean my feral side…” J’are shook his head. “Look, I know we can’t repeat what we did at the spa. My thinking mind knows that, anyway. But my feral side…”

  “What…what about your feral side?” Imani put a hand to her throat and took a tiny step backwards. The fear and uncertainty in her eyes made J’are hate himself.

  “Never mind,” he said savagely, looking away.

  “No, tell me.” She took a deep breath and lifted her chin as though gathering her courage. Then she stepped towards him again and put one soft, little hand on his arm. “Please, J’are—tell me.”

  He sighed and ran a hand over his hair.

  “It’s just what I told you at the spa—we’ve done every part of the Claiming period—Holding, Scenting, Bathing, Tasting…every part except Bonding. And because we’ve gone though all the rest, my feral side expects that Bonding is next.”

  Imani’s dark eyes grew wide.

  “J’are,” she said softly. “I’m so sorry but I can’t…can’t do that with you. After this is all over and I get you free of Yonnie Six, you’re supposed to go back to your own home world.”

  “Because the other Kindred think Nightwalkers are dangerous, right?” he asked bitterly. “Because they don’t believe we can be trusted?”

  “I don’t know all the reasons behind the decision—it wasn’t mine to make,” Imani said softly. “But I do know that my work and my life—my family—are all back on Earth and the Mother Ship. I don’t know anything about your home world or how to live there.”

  “Neither do I,” J’are growled. “I was taken when I was only a child. I have no parents—no tribe to belong to.” He shook his head. “Maybe you should have left me down in the hole.”

  “J’are, no! Don’t say that!” She looked at him anxiously. When J’are wouldn’t meet her eyes, she reached for him and took his face in both hands, turning him to look at her. “Please,” she said. “Don’t ever say that. You were unjustly imprisoned and wrongly accused. You don’t belong there.”

  “I don’t belong on my home world either,” J’are said, but he couldn’t remain bitter when she was looking at him with those big, dark eyes. He could feel himself melting under her soft touch. “Imani…” He sighed and turned his head to place a tender kiss in the center of her palm.

  “Oh, J’are…” For a moment she looked like she might cry. “I’m so sorry I can’t…can’t give you what you want. But I can’t leave my family and my career and go live on an alien planet where I don’t know any of the customs. And besides, what we’re doing is very unprofessional.”

  “Falling in love is unprofessional?” he asked, his voice husky with emotion he couldn’t seem to contain.

  Imani’s eyes widened.

  “J’are—”

  “Never mind—forget I said it.” He took a deep breath. “Thank you for coming to rescue me. And please forgive me for making you uncomfortable.”

  He took a step away from her and turned to look at his own outfit in the 3-D viewer provided in the hotel they had checked into. This place wasn’t nearly as fancy as the Luxx, but it was comfortable and had food he was pretty sure Imani would enjoy.

  He was wearing black leather bodyslave trousers with the crotch cut out to show his shaft, as was the custom for formal Yonnite parties. He was still half hard, despite the emotional scene between them—probably because he wanted her so damn much and she looked so enticing in the turquoise gown.

  “I think I’ll pass for a proper bodyslave tonight, don’t you?” he asked, trying to make his tone light.

  “J’are, we’ve been over this—you don’t have to act as my bodyslave!” Imani protested.

  He frowned.

  “Oh, yes I do. Judge Thoughtgood is going to be studying my every move and watching for ‘proper’ behavior. That means behavior fitting to a subservient male—a bodyslave. If she sees me behaving the way she expects a well-trained male to act, she’ll be much more likely to agree to let me go free.”

  “I suppose…” Imani looked troubled. “I just hate the idea of you having to act subservient to me—it really rubs me the wrong way.”

  “It’s only for one night,” J’are said shortly. “And anyway, it doesn’t bother me. I was raised with the idea that I would someday belong to the right female. It’s not just a Yonnie Six idea—my own people, the Kindred Nightwalkers—feel that way too.”

  “I know they do.” Imani sighed. “It just seems so…wrong. The idea of one person belonging to another…my country fought an entire war about how wrong it is.”

  “I agree that it’s wrong to own someone and treat them as your slave,” J’are said. “But being Claimed by the right female is different. When you’re bound to her by love—” he broke off, shaking his head. “Never mind. We’d better call a hover car—we’re due at Lady Bittlebum’s reception in thirty minutes.”

  “Will you be all right?” Imani looked at him anxiously. “I mean, it’s dark outside and you’ll be in your old house…”

  J’are lifted his chin.

  “I’ll be fine because I have to be,” he said.

  “And your feral side?” Imani raised an eyebrow.

&n
bsp; “In control,” J’are promised her. “It’s not getting out tonight—I swear it, Imani.”

  “Good.” She looked relieved. “Then we should be fine. We’ll just go to the party, make sure Judge Thoughtgood sees you behaving beautifully, and leave. We’ll be back here in two hours.”

  J’are hoped she was right. Because despite his iron will to keep his wild side contained, he could feel the feral part of him beating at the bars of the mental cage he had locked it in.

  It didn’t like being restrained—not one damn bit. It was going to take all his willpower to hold it back, J’are thought grimly. It was a contest of wills—one he had better not lose.

  If he did, it would cost him his life.

  Thirty

  “Welcome, Mistress Williams—your name is on the list.” The servant dressed in lemon yellow livery nodded at Imani graciously. “If you’d like to step to the back of the line and wait your turn to be announced, please?”

  He ushered her and J’are to the end of a short line of five or six other Mistresses who were waiting with their bodyslaves to be called up and announced to the party.

  “Oh, thank you.” Imani nodded at him and smiled. “Um, if you’ll forgive me, I haven’t been to one of Lady Bittlebum’s parties before. What exactly do we do when we’re announced?” she asked before the servant could turn away.

  “Oh, it’s the usual routine, Mistress,” the servant said casually. “Just step up on the stage, allow your bodyslave to kiss your panties, and then you can descend and mingle with the other guests.” He smiled at her. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I see more guests arriving.” And he hurried away.

  “Let my bodyslave…” Imani trailed off, feeling her cheeks get hot.

  “That’s standard here on Yonnie Six when you’re being introduced at a party,” J’are told her. He was standing beside her, in his crotchless black leather trousers and the pain collar and leash Imani had to make him wear in public, though she hated to. “Don’t let it bother you,” he added.