What would she do if the Outcasts refused to let her stay in their compound? She could survive in the forest for a time, but the sun would rise and she would be exposed to its toxic rays. Maybe she could find a cave or—wild karrons lived in caves. She knew almost as much about battle cats as Lady Isolaund, but all the cats they trained were born in captivity. In the wild, karrons were vicious and unpredictable. Panic built inside her. Her heart pounded, and a strange buzzing filled her ears.
“Are you all right? All the color just drained from your face.” Torrin’s deep voice washed over her raw nerves like warm, healing salve. Her master had returned. Some time ago, he’d muttered something about going to work and then rushed from the strange round room. She’d figured she would have to search for him, or at least learn where he lived so she could await his return in his residence. He’d just made the situation so much easier.
Lifting her head, she shifted her gaze to his face. He was not handsome by Sarronti standards, but she found him captivating. His features were too bold, too harsh to please most Sarronti females. He looked unapproachable, even dangerous. His dark hair was pulled back from his face and secured at the nape of his neck. The stark arrangement made him appear even harder. But it was his lethal aura that drew Arrista. She needed to feel safe and protected after her ordeal. Who better to shelter her than a massive male who would kill without hesitation?
She took a sip of water so she could speak. “I am fine. Just tired. I thought you had to work.”
His gray-green stare bore into hers, searching, assessing. “My tasks have been reassigned. I am to...remain with you.”
Thank the gods. Her heart beat a little faster, and she took another drink. She had been so worried that she would be left alone. Even now, the Outcasts in this healing center stared at her with curiosity and mistrust.
“You do not sound pleased by this development,” she noted. “Who told you to remain with me?”
“The overlord.” The admission sounded gruff and resentful.
Lady Isolaund recently learned the overlord’s name was Kage Razel. It meant nothing to Arrista, but Lady Isolaund liked to learn everything she could about her adversaries. Would she consider Arrista an adversary now? It was irrelevant, so why did the possibility make her heart ache and her stomach twist? As long as General Alonov lived, it would not be safe for Arrista to go anywhere near the underground.
Which meant Arrista needed a new mistress. Or master. Torrin was her first choice, but he was obviously uncomfortable with her. She must do something about that fast. She quickly finished the water and set the glass aside, focusing entirely on her reluctant companion. “If you take me to your dwelling, I will begin my tasks while you return to work. As long as there is some way of locking me in, I will be content until you return. My service to you need not be bothersome.”
One corner of his mouth twitched as if he would smile, but he made a strange growling sound instead. “You’re on bedrest, sweetheart. There won’t be any tasks in your near future. In fact, I’m supposed to take care of you.”
Her eyes widened, and she shook her head. “That is impossible. I am Niffal. You are Jintta. I must serve you.”
His lips pressed into a disapproving line. “What is Jintta?”
The question surprised her. “Your society really has no designations? The tracker told me this, but I did not believe him.” The tracker had been attempting to locate the kidnapped humans when Sara, the bolder of the two, struck a deal with Isolaund and was released. Arrista’s interaction with him had been brief, but interesting.
“What Xorran told you is true,” Torrin stressed, “but you didn’t answer my question. Why would I be part of the Jintta designation?”
She licked her lips and adjusted her position on the narrow table. His unwavering stare made her feel antsy, oddly defensive. “Those in Jintta risk their lives for others. The designation is reserved for the brave and selfless. Warriors, enforcers, rescue workers, these sorts of people are given the Jintta designation. It is one of the few upper designations that is earned rather than inherited.” When he didn’t comment, she added, “Jintta is the second highest designation. Only the Ayrontu are more revered.”
“I’m a common soldier, nothing more. And Xorran was right. There are no designations among the Outcasts.” His voice was hard, as if the concept insulted him.
“But how can a society operate without structure and expectations?” She shook her head. “It does not make sense.”
“Let’s get you settled, and then I’ll tell you all about my society’s structure and expectations. You need to rest so your body can fully recover. That bastard didn’t just hit you. He broke a bone in your face and gave you a serious concussion.”
She’d been told the extent of her injuries, but his obvious displeasure confused her. She was nothing to him. Her service had yet to begin, so why did he care about the abuse she must endure? “The bone is repaired and my brain regenerated. I am capable of serving you. I am a good worker. I learn quickly and—”
Rather than argue, he scooped her up in his arms and strode from the circular room. No one questioned his actions or did anything to stop him, further proof that he was not a common soldier.
“You were told to rest, and I’m here to make sure you do.” He glanced into her eyes, his gleaming with determination. “No more arguments.”
The message was loud and clear. She was his, and she would do whatever he told her. End of story. He was fierce and powerful. Any other behavior would have been out of character. She must surrender to a stronger being, as she’d done her entire life. But he didn’t want her to perform tasks for him. Did that mean he wanted access to her body? Her heart fell, and hopelessness crept over her soul. What else could it mean? He had offered to protect her. He had a right to want something in return. She’d just hoped that something would be less demeaning.
Another of Lady Isolaund’s spies reported that the Outcast males had just begun pairing off with the human females. Did Torrin have a mate, or had he identified the female he would eventually claim? Maybe that was what made him so resistant to Arrista’s desire to serve him. She inwardly shook her head. If he had a mate, he would be less likely to demand sexual service from her. Still, she wanted to know what would be expected. “If you are worried that your mate will resent me, I can—”
“I have no mate, nor am I likely to ever acquire one.” He glanced at her just long enough for her to see pain flash in his eyes. “I’m not compatible with any of the humans, or any other species that I’ve encountered so far.”
His superficial nonchalance was not believable. To know for certain that he was not compatible with multiple species meant he had been searching for a potential mate. “I’m sorry your search has been in vain. That must be frustrating.”
He looked at her, then away without saying anything. His features remained stern and unreadable.
Luckily, the Sarronti didn’t require genetically compatible mates. They were able to create soul bonds and offspring with anyone their hearts desired. At least anyone who was Sarronti. The thought was bittersweet. It might be easier for her species to mate, but not her designation. Niffal females did not attract mates. They attracted males who enjoyed their bodies for a time, then walked away.
“You need not carry me.” She squirmed in his arms, pushing against his chest. “Please, put me down.”
With obvious reluctance, he set her on her feet and watched to make sure she was steady.
“Lead on.” She punctuated the suggestion with a quick smile she didn’t feel. He had no mate and did not want her as a conventional servant. That only left one reason for taking her to a private place. She needed to accept the inevitable and prepare herself emotionally for what was about to happen. She’d been through this before. She would survive this as well.
He continued down the corridor, and she lengthened her strides to keep up. Isolaund had told her that this place had been created by connecting twelve of the massiv
e ships the Outcasts used to reach Sarronti. Obviously, they had no intention of leaving. The corridors were rounded, rather like the tunnels in the underground. But these walls were smooth and gray with subtle swirls of color. In the world below everything was rough-hewn and natural. She’d only gotten a glimpse of the outside of the complex through a haze of pain, but the shape had been bizarre, like pieces to a puzzle that didn’t quite fit together.
Tension built with each step they took, drawing her thoughts back into the present. She was relieved that another female would not complicate the situation, yet she dreaded the inevitable end. It was not that Torrin was unattractive. She found him physically pleasing. She just wished that once she would be allowed to choose a sexual partner, maybe even spend the night with someone who genuinely cared for her.
“Arrista.” He stopped walking and faced her.
She jerked her head back and looked into Torrin’s eyes, shocked that he knew her name. She’d told Toxyn Jow her name repeatedly, and he still called her nothing but girl. “Undress, girl.” “Bend over the table, girl.” “On your knees, girl.” Her throat burned and her lips trembled as she stubbornly drove his image from her mind. Thankfully, he had quickly fallen out of favor with Lady Isolaund, so Arrista had only been required to serve him twice. Both encounters had seemed endless and humiliating. The shame was with her still.
“You don’t need to fear me,” Torrin insisted, faint gold rings forming in his gray-green eyes. How strange. Why hadn’t she noticed the shimmering circles before? “I will not harm you.”
“Why do you believe I am afraid?” It was a deflection, but she was curious how he’d known.
“Your entire body tensed, and I can detect shifts in your scent. Whatever you were thinking about just now frightened you.”
Her emotions had been more complicated than fear, but she didn’t deny it. “The unpleasant situation is in the past.”
He nodded once, then continued down the corridor. He didn’t speak again until they reached a vertical conveyance. Elevator. It took her mind a moment to come up with the correct Rodyte word.
“My cabin is up on five.” He motioned toward the elevator.
The statement snuffed her last spark of hope. She moved into the elevator and waited for him to join her.
He stepped in with a sigh, setting the device in motion. “Your anxiety just spiked again. This wasn’t my idea. The overlord wants you guarded at all times, and at least you know me. I’m not going to hurt you. What do I need to do to make you believe that?”
She couldn’t meet his stare. There were many ways to hurt someone. He might not beat her into submission, but he would hurt her. Everyone did. “Why does the overlord want me guarded? Am I in danger?” Or did he not trust her alone inside their compound? The latter seemed more likely.
“You tell me.” The door slid open, and he motioned for her to precede him out into another corridor. This one was lined with doors spaced at even intervals. “Will Alonov come after you?”
“It’s unlikely. He will be desperate to rescue his son, but I was not the focus of his obsession.” She shivered, remembering the stricken look on Heather’s face as the general prepared to defile her.
“But you saw what he did, or was trying to do. Will that put you in danger?”
She shook her head. “Everyone in the world below knows of his evil desires. The Guiding Council puts up with his brutality because he serves a purpose and never harms anyone of importance.”
“Everyone is of importance in the world above. No one deserves that sort of abuse.” When she had no response, he asked, “Will Alonov come after Heather again?” He didn’t touch her, left a cushion of space all the way around her. Still, tension built as he led her onward.
“As I said, Farlo will be his focus now. If he can find a way to...sample a human during the raid, he will likely indulge himself. Still, nothing is more important than Farlo.” She looked up at him to make sure he was giving her words due consideration. “Guard your prisoner well. The general is Ayrontu, and they are used to receiving whatever they want. He will try again and again until Farlo is returned to the world below.”
Torrin acknowledged the advice with a solemn nod, then stopped before one of the identical doors. “We’ll be ready.”
Clearly he believed it, but the situation was worse than he realized. Until now, all the Sarronti attacks had been sporadic and isolated. They were sparks on the wind compared to the damage General Alonov could unleash with an army of Sarronti warriors at his back.
After triggering the door with his palm print, Torrin ushered her inside. The room—make that rooms—were spacious and meticulously clean. The furnishings were clearly focused on function rather than aesthetic appeal. They stood in the main living space with an eating area tucked in one corner. The bedroom was visible through a doorway, and the bathing room could be accessed from the living area or the bedroom. The design was clever, maximizing the available space.
He’d already said he had no mate, but did he live alone? Much like starships, space was limited in the underground. Only those with wealth and power were allowed private apartments. “Do you share these quarters with anyone?” She tried to sound casual, but she was terrified. If he had a roommate or roommates, this could go from unpleasant to horrific in the blink of an eye.
“Only you.” He softened the statement with the shadow of a smile. “You can have the bed. I’ll sleep on...” His gaze moved to the sofa, and he chuckled. “I’ll figure out something.”
None of the Sarronti males had wanted her around once they’d found their pleasure, so his attitude didn’t surprise her. Still, the sofa was much too small for his tall body. “There is no way you are giving up your bed for me. I slept on the floor in a room with five other Niffal until Lady Isolaund chose me as her handmaiden.”
Without committing one way or the other, he motioned toward the sofa. “Have a seat. I’ll print you a drink. Would you like hot or cold, spicy or sweet?”
She was seldom given choices, especially about something so incidental so it took her a few moments to decide. “Hot and not too spicy.”
His face scrunched up as he considered the choices, then he made a strange snapping sound with his fingers. “I know just the thing.”
Feeling awkward and out of place, she moved to the sofa and sat. Her dress was grimy, and she smelled of sweat. Would he allow her to bathe before he demanded sexual service? Would he punish her if she asked for the privilege? Without the rules that governed Niffal behavior, she felt lost.
He crossed the room and triggered a holo-control grid similar to those used in certain areas of the underground. Though the Sarronti preferred a natural aesthetic, they understood the benefits of technology and weren’t opposed to using it to make their lives more comfortable or efficient.
He returned a short time later with a mug in each hand. After handing her one, he sat in a chair facing her. “This is call blish. It’s Ontarian, but I think you’ll like it. Most of the human females do.”
She took a tentative sip and found the mild flavor both spicy and sweet. She could detect a citric tang and something richer, but the flavors were unfamiliar. “It’s nice, soothing.”
“Good. You need to relax.”
Lowering her gaze, she silently sipped the unfamiliar beverage. This was so awkward. She’d been summoned by Sarronti males four times. Three times before Lady Isolaund chose her as handmaiden, and once at Lady Isolaund’s request. The first time had been the worst, but each had left her feeling worthless and dirty. Utterly used.
The tracker and his mate made the Outcasts sound like freedom fighters, crusading for the benefit of all. Clearly, a society without distinctions wasn’t all that different from the underground. She set the mug aside and cleared her throat. “I would very much like to bathe before we begin. Is that permitted?”
“Of course. You can do whatever you like. You’re our guest; not our prisoner.”
He kept saying things like
that, assuring her that she had choices and he wouldn’t hurt her. Then why had he brought her to his private apartment? The contradiction was frustrating.
She followed him into the bathroom and watched intently as he explained the controls and showed her where to find various cleaning agents.
“Take as long as you like. Put your dress in the recycler, or I can have it cleaned. Either way, I’ll print a couple of uniforms for you so you’ll have something new to put on once you’re clean.”
She nodded and thanked him, voice shaking. Why must he be so polite? It made the coming events even harder to bear. The others had been cold and matter-of-fact, completely focused on their own pleasure.
“If you need anything, I’ll be out there.”
He finally left, and she quickly undressed, unsure how long he would actually give her. It was likely he’d wait until she rinsed off the grime, and then he’d jerk her out of the shower. The Ayrontu bastard that summoned her first had forced her to wash in front of him. He’d kept her in his quarters for three days, naked and defenseless, watching every move she made. The memory still made her queasy and sad. Why did others have to be so cruel?
The warm water felt amazing, yet she was too afraid to linger beneath its soothing spray. She quickly shampooed her hair, then washed her body and deactivated the shower. She watched the door as she dried off and combed the tangles from her hair, expecting him to rush in at any moment. When he didn’t, she triggered the door and crept into the bedroom.
A neatly folded stack of garments had been placed on the foot of the bed. Did he want her to dress so he could undress her? Or did he want her to undress for him? Some males enjoyed that sort of thing. She shook away both possibilities, wanting this finished as quickly as possible.
Covered in only the towel, she walked into the living room and positioned herself right in front of him. His eyes widened, then narrowed. “I put clean clothes on the bed. Was there a problem with them?”
Assassin Page 2
