Vendel Rising Omnibus

by L A Warren

  His hand skimmed her belly, sending ripples of traitorous and unwelcomed pleasure straight to her core. She bit her lower lip, focused on his words, and not on what his hand was doing to her body.

  "When we descend, I'll show you to your assigned sleeping quarters." He gestured to the elevated observation platforms. "This entire area is observed by the WOR-guards."

  The brusque efficiency with which he described her new accommodations, and ignored her distress, told her much about her new master. A line in his registry for certain, she was his newest pet.

  "WOR-guards?" Did they not use video recording devices, or were the guards in addition to cameras? She needed to find out how much monitoring she would be subjected to. It would affect everything in her efforts toward escape.

  "The WOR-guards monitor compliance with the Tenders' training regimen."

  Monitoring compliance sounded like more torture. She made a mental note to steer clear of the WOR-guards.

  "Obey their orders as if they come from the High Tender himself or risk the consequences."

  "You mean more punishment. Torture like the High Tender put me through?"

  He stiffened behind her. "Consequences are meant to remind you not to repeat the same mistake. Remember, ultimately you are in control. Comply and things will be easy for you."

  "Everything is punishment with you Vendel." Denied curse words, she injected all the venom she could into the name for his people.

  He stiffened again and she used the opportunity to try, unsuccessfully, to withdraw. His grip held firm. His lips brushed her neck. "I warned you, my dearest opés, that Lord vlor'Vardhal would not be lenient. You chose to test him and he applied the consequences for your actions. Although, I did not think he would touch you with the braklav again so soon, not when a whipstick would have sufficed."

  A whipstick?

  She didn't know how a WOR-guard punished, but no way could it be worse than the braklav. Her body held no residual pain from the experience, but the same couldn't be said of her mind.

  It felt…splintered.

  Gregor heaved a heavy sigh and placed a chaste kiss to her temple. "You must obey him in all things. WOR training is the realm of the Tenders. I have limited authority here. He will not subject you to Tender Training without my consent, but do not underestimate a whipstick."

  "For a superior race, you're more barbaric than any of us. You disgust me."

  "We're not superior to earthlings, opés. We're your cousins, born and bred, and built from the same DNA. We bleed the same, love the same, and fight for the same things."

  "And murder on a much grander scale." She pinched his wrist and pulled at his arm. "Your touch disgusts me."

  "I know exactly what my touch does to you. I feel it just as you do."

  "You're wrong. I feel nothing for you. You did this. Are you so unsure of yourself that you need to use an aphrodisiac to force a woman to respond to you? You're a pitiful and weak excuse for a man, let alone an emperor. Even the High Tender bosses you around."

  Gregor spun her around. His hands gripped her arms tightly and the tattoo over his brow swirled with an angry intensity. "You have no idea of the things you speak."

  "Don't I?"

  "I understand how hard this is on you, and I feel your anger and fear, but I am not the monster you think I am. With time, you will see your way through and past this. We will be together for a long time, opés. You can't sustain your hatred forever. Your feelings will turn toward affection. Our bond ensures it."

  He didn't know her very well. "There's no fuc–," Not being able to use curse words put a cramp on her vocabulary. "There's no bond. There's no us. Get that through your head."

  "You are wrong." His brow arched with conviction. "I felt it the first time I laid eyes on you, and I know you feel it, too. It is a rare gift for the spark between vlor' and s'vlor to ignite. Ours enflamed on first sight. For many, it barely lights. You and I have been blessed by the Gods. It has only happened twice in known history. Deny it all you want, but you cannot fight it. Run from it, but you will fail. Eventually, you will run straight to me."

  "There is no spark," she lied. A brushfire burned in her veins. "You're delusional if you think I feel anything for a monster like you."

  "Delusional?" He cocked his head. "I don't think so. We both touched the callidor."

  "What the hell is that?"

  "I rubbed the callidor into your wrist the night we met, opés. It confirmed the truth of our bond."

  "That voodoo love potion? Whatever was in that shit, and everything I feel for you, isn't real."

  He silenced her outburst with his lips, using warmth and power to overcome her objections and her curse. Liquid heat devoured her as he drove his tongue past her lips. His passion destroyed her. She clutched at the fabric of his shirt, trembling in his grip, and opened to him, despising her weakness, yet unable to resist his rich, spicy taste.

  Then suddenly, the kiss ended.

  His breathing, ragged and deep, filled the air between them and mirrored her own panting. He cupped her chin, his fingers sweeping the line of her lips. Blown pupils revealed the depth of his desire and a wide-eyed concern lingered there, too.

  "You must stop with the profanities. If your High Tender hears it…" Gregor tugged in a deep lungful of air and clutched her to him. His voice caught on an exhale. "I may be the emperor, but in this, in your training, I am unable to protect you. He holds authority over you until our blood mingles. You must understand, obey, and comply with the teaching of the Tenders. I would shield you if I could, but in this, I cannot."

  He bent down and brushed his lips against hers, lighter this time, but more damaging than the fire of the previous kiss because now he showed compassion. He moved to her ear, whispering again.

  "The callidor only strengthens what is already there. It cannot create something from nothing." He straightened and composed himself, checking to see who might have witnessed their passion.

  "You're lying." Her words garnered a lift of his eyebrow and a swirl of the imperial tattoo over his brow, as if challenging her to deny the truth of his words. A truth she felt inside.

  "That perfume did more than change me. It brought disease and death to everyone I held dear. I will never forgive you for that."

  The shaking of his head confused her. "The callidor did not contain the Vector."

  The memory of Elenor sneezing after inhaling the Vendel's gift flashed in her mind. "But, after the banquet Elenor died. She got sick after you gave her the perfume. That's when everyone started dying."

  He pursed his lips. "This is not the best topic for us to discuss."

  "Not the best topic? What exactly would be the best topic? You killed everyone I know. What other topic is relevant? If you want me to become your perfect pet answer the fuc—"

  He pressed a finger over her lips. "Let me explain something, Tender Training is measured in hour-long increments. Lord vlor'Vardhal had you less than ten minutes before I knew what was happening. It took five minutes to get to you and pull him off. I will have to deal with the fallout from that, because as I said, you are his charge for now. You experienced less than a quarter of a true Tender Training session."

  A cold sweat broke out on her back with the memory of what had happened in that cold white room with the red circle. It had only been fifteen minutes? Gregor had that wrong. High Tender Marcus tortured her for hours. The memory sang clearly in her mind. The eternity of pain and the cracks in her mind proved it.

  "Swear again, or persist in calling me a bastard, and you will experience a full hour of what a braklav can do. I meant it when I said I do not want to see you harmed. You and I are meant to work in harmony, but to do that you must obey my commands, and you will have to obey Lord vlor'Vardhal as well as me."

  "You would let him do that to me?"

  He didn't say anything, but his look told her everything she needed to know.

  Her lower lip trembled. "You said you cared for me."

&
nbsp; "I do, but you must understand one thing. I am the leader of an empire. I have oaths to uphold to my people and obligations to the entirety of the human race. You will be trained. There is no other option. I hope you choose to comply, but one way or another it will happen."

  Whatever warmth she'd sought in his arms had been misplaced and she vowed never to make that mistake again.

  "Now," he said with a brusque efficiency. "I have the High Tender's job to finish."

  "What is that?"

  "Introduce you to your new home." He gestured out into the vast space, past the rows of beds and continued as if nothing had happened between them. "Beyond the sleeping area is a series of educational and training rooms. You will be given a schedule which you will follow."

  He pointed beyond the small circular rooms to larger square structures, also with no ceilings. Women sat within the rooms. Few were empty. It bothered her how orderly it all appeared, how compliant the women behaved. Soon, she would be one of them.

  "To the left are the privacy facilities, and to the right are the cleansing facilities. They are monitored."

  Of course they were. It would make covert conversations difficult among the captives, but she would find a way.

  "Beyond the educational rooms are the exercise facilities. You must spend two hours a day in appropriate exercise. You will need to devise a schedule for High Tender vlor'Vardhal's approval."

  "I get a choice?"

  "Of course, now that you are here we want you to be as comfortable as possible. You are incredibly precious to us, to me, and we want you to be as happy as possible. Any questions?"

  Only ten thousand. "Yes."

  "Now is a good time to ask."

  She turned away from his smile, unable to process what it must mean. But if he was giving her a chance to ask questions she needed to take advantage. "Why must I address you as Gregor and not Emperor?"

  "Women who are familiar with a man use that man's given name."

  "We're not familiar." She didn't like the sound of that.

  He gave her a look. "You're my s'vlor and I am your master. For now, that is enough."

  For now, but what about later?

  The lecture continued in an even cadence that made her skin crawl. "Names have significance in Vendel society, specifically as to who may use which names. You, for example, will never again use vlor'Vardhal when you speak to the High Tender, either as High Tender Marcus vlor'Vardhal or High Tender vlor'Vardhal."

  "Why is that?"

  "He has been assigned as your Tender. You will forever call him High Tender Marcus, a more familiar address. Just as you'll never refer to me as anything other than Gregor, whether speaking to me directly or speaking about me to others. Although for the High Tender, you may use High Tender vlor'Vardhal when speaking about him to others."

  She didn't like the thought of being attached to High Tender Marcus any more than she liked being tied to Gregor. It was a bit confusing. "What about Marcus? Is that his given name? If he's my Tender why am I not familiar with him as well?"

  Gregor stiffened, then relaxed. "Never. And that is one mistake I'll expect you to never make. Understood?"

  Elise swallowed. "Not at all. Tell me why not, so I can understand."

  He paused and seemed to take a moment to compose his answer. She surveyed the Confinement Deck and counted the numbers in swirling garb below. Just a few shy of a thousand. There were less than ten in the tunnel behind her waiting for processing with their wide-eyed stares after listening to her screams. The High Tender said they had collected them all. There must be other processing rooms.

  Finally, he spoke. "A man has several names: a given name, a personal name, and a family name. A man's given name is an intimate form of address. A name he shares with his mother when he's a child and later his wife after the sacrament of marriage is consummated."

  Her stomach dropped and she gripped the rail in front of her, feeling suddenly unsteady.

  "But I am not to become your wife." She hoped that wasn't the case. Please let that not be true.

  He gave her a long stare. "No, s'lor and s'vlor are property. But they do acknowledge the intimacy of the Bond by using their lord's given name."

  "What intimacy?"

  He gripped her hands and warm steel encased her fingers. "Don't worry about things you cannot change. I have claimed you, therefore, you will address me as Gregor. The rest will follow. Do not fight the truth, opés. I see it in your eyes. The denial is there, but I'm telling you, you are mine."

  A surge of anger rose and she suppressed it just in time to avoid saying something she would regret. No more profanities, at least not where Gregor, or the High Tender, or any of the wor-guard could hear. "So, that's it. I'm a slave?" One he would eventually rape to establish this intimacy.

  "Slave is a distasteful term."

  "Just because you don't like the word doesn't mean that's not exactly what you've made me."

  "You are not a slave, Elise."

  She wasn't going to argue semantics with a monster. Changing topics, she asked another question that had been bothering her. "One of the men called High Tender Marcus, Master Tender. What does that mean?"

  "Master Tender is a title designating his rank among the Tender Conclave. He is their leader."

  "Is that why he bosses you around?"

  Gregor laughed. "He does not boss me around."

  "Sure seems like it."

  "He disagrees with my interest in you and fears the intensity of our Bond. His concern is appropriate for the Conclave Master. Speaking of Tenders, you will have an opportunity to meet many Tenders during your training. Since you are s'vlor most will be vlor’lords who are High Tenders, like Lord vlor'Vardhal, but others will be lor’lords with the rank of Tender. You will refer to all other Tenders using their family name. For example, Tender lor'Marthis, the lord who you met at the entry port, may participate in your training, but he is not assigned to you."

  "Your naming system is complicated. I hope I'm not expected to get it all right at once?"

  "You have plenty of time to work on it." He placed his hands back around her waist and stepped back, pulling her with him. He held out a hand to her. "Fifth dinner will be served shortly, and that leaves precious time to get you settled. Now come."

  He led her down into her prison, all the while speaking of daily routines, schedules, classrooms, and subject assignments as if this was any other normal day. Only there was nothing normal about this day.

  That morning she’d been picking grapes in her garden, on a planet whose population had been obliterated by these people, by him, and now he talked about mundane mealtime routines and exercise facilities. A fifth dinner?

  How was a person supposed to wrap their mind around something like this? She had no answer, except to take the next step, to take the next breath. And that kiss? It was the second time he'd kissed her, just as unexpected as the first. She wanted more and couldn't reconcile that thought with her desire for revenge.

  At the base of the stairs, he stopped by a console. "Put your palm on the access plate."

  She looked at the gel-like plate. "What does this do?"

  "It logs you in and out of the Confinement Deck."

  Her interest peaked at this. For an advanced society, so far, their technology had been relatively lacking, except for the lift tube and the teleportation. The lift tube scared her and she didn't understand teleportation, but this gel-like device was the first thing even closely resembling a computerized device.

  One thing she'd excelled at back home were computers, specifically breaking into their operating systems. The phrase 'back home' looped in her mind. Thinking about home and the possibility she might never see it again had her throat closing up.

  "One of your first priorities will be learning our language and culture. I suggest you focus on your studies." His voice lulled her with its gentleness.

  "What about your technology?" She pointed to the gel-plate. "Your computers and such?"
/>   He smiled. "Everything. It is imperative we educate you. An uneducated WOR is useless to the empire. Despite what you think, we have no intention of mistreating you. As long as you obey, your life will be rewarding."

  As long as she obeyed… The warning was not lost to her ears. "What am I to you?"

  "You are the most precious thing in the empire, a true treasure. It's why we came to collect you. Five Ranks in all."

  "Lucky me," she grumbled, then she flinched wondering if this violated the terms of not spouting off.

  "If you were not WOR, more than likely you would be dead right now. Few survive the Vector who are not WOR. You are fortunate to be alive."

  Elise was unable to process the callousness of his words and stumbled to a stop.

  Gregor took a step before realizing she was no longer with him. He turned and reached out a hand to lead her forward.

  They killed billions to harvest a thousand women? Her mind couldn't even begin to wrap itself around the number of people who'd been sacrificed. Hatred rose in the back of her throat, but she controlled the visceral reaction. She would turn her hate into a strength, but now wasn't the time. Revenge would come, but when she was prepared. First, she needed to learn everything she could about her enemy, and fortunately they were willing to teach everything she would need to know.

  She would learn their language, their culture, and everything about their technology. The gel-pads would be first. They granted access to the rest of the ship. From there, she'd find a way off this ship, for her, and for the thousand other women they'd taken.

  They'd return to Earth. No. That's the first place the Vendel would look. They would need to hide someplace else. She would find a place. It was only a matter of time.

  Her grandfather taught her nothing was impossible. As long as the task was broken down into bite-sized chunks, the impossible became possible.

  She looked at her new home with a fresh set of eyes.

  Chapter Five

  Gambit, Day 3