“I understand what is going to happen. I am quite tired. May we please begin?” Before he could answer one way or the other, she dropped the towel.
Chapter Two
Torrin’s jaw dropped, and his heart lurched inside his chest. For one blissful moment, he was paralyzed by shock and primal need. A goddess stood before him naked, offering her perfect body to him. High round breasts, tiny waist and softly curved hips combined to form the personification of his wildest dreams. A small patch of hair above her mound was the same silvery blue as the shimmering hair on her head. Her legs were long and shapely, perfect to wrap around his waist while he thrust strong and steady between her thighs.
“I am willing to serve you, but I need to know what pleases you.”
Her soft, tremulous voice snapped him from his lust addled stupor. He forced his gaze back to her face as he pushed to his feet. His ocular scanners provided information on her biological functions, but he knew nothing about the Sarronti, had no idea if the readings were problematic or not.
Still, fear smelled like fear regardless of the species and facial expressions were nearly universal. Her pastel blue gaze followed his movements with a mixture of dread and hopelessness. Her bleak resignation tore at his heart, and he’d thought himself much too jaded to feel pity. It was obvious she’d done this before, offered her body out of obligation and fear.
He snatched the towel off the deck and wrapped it around her, inadvertently trapping her arms at her sides. “This is not why I brought you here. If we share pleasure, it will be because you want me just as much as I want you.”
She stared into his eyes, clearly confused by his reaction. “You offered to protect me. I have no wealth, and you do not want conventional service. How will I compensate you for keeping me safe?”
Unable to ignore the aching emptiness in her gaze, he brushed her cheek with his knuckles and tried to gentle his expression. His resting face was a scowl, so people often thought he was angry when he wasn’t. “I don’t want anything from you that you don’t want to give. If you’re determined to ‘compensate’ me, then tell me about the Sarronti. We don’t know much about your people, and it would be really helpful to know more. Your body belongs to you now. If anyone touches you without your permission, no matter who they are, you immediately tell me or one of the other Outcasts. Females are precious to us. The things you’ve endured in the world below would cost an Outcast his life.”
Her gaze searched his for a long, silent moment. When she did speak again, her voice was barely a whisper. “But I am Niffal. What happened to me was not a violation of our laws. The Niffal were created by the Divine for the use of the upper des—”
He lightly pressed his fingertips against her lips, silencing her conditioned response. “You are free of your designation. Everyone is the same in the world above. The overlord asked me to keep you in my cabin to make sure you’re safe. You’ll sleep on the sofa, and I’ll sleep in the bed. No one will touch you unless you want to be touched by them. That goes double for me because I’m your protector.”
Her pale blue eyebrows drew together, and her lips trembled. Her heart rate increased, and her scent changed, fear polluting her natural scent. “Is this a game?” She carefully drew her arms out from under the towel and wrapped the damp material more securely around her slender body. “I don’t understand the rules or possible outcomes.”
He stepped back and raised both hands. “No games, no hidden agendas. We want you to be happy here, but you decide what happiness looks like. Tell me what you need, and I’ll get it for you.”
Her eyes grew wild and gradually filled with panic. She clutched the front of the towel with both hands, holding it securely in place. “I don’t...how can I... I don’t understand what you want from me.” The admission tore from her throat, followed immediately by a flood of tears. She held the towel to her breasts with one hand and covered her face with the other, looking utterly dejected.
Torrin acted on instinct, unable to ignore any creature in such obvious pain. He carefully drew her closer, patting her back and stroking her hair, without trapping her in his embrace. She sobbed, body shaking with heart wrenching sobs. She grabbed the front of his uniform, twisting the sturdy material with clenched fists. Her face pressed against his chest, tears quickly soaking the material, as well as her skin. He understood her pain, had experienced what she was feeling. His father sold him to the military when he was five, but he remembered the emotional devastation quite clearly. His reality had been shattered, and he’d felt completely alone, abandoned and betrayed.
“If I cannot serve you, I am nothing,” she whispered in-between sobs. “Without a purpose, I have no reason to live.”
If she hadn’t sounded so confused, he would have found the claims melodramatic. But she was serious. She honestly didn’t understand why she should exist if she had no purpose. Scrambling for a compromise she would understand, he thought back over what little he knew about her. “Didn’t you help Lady Isolaund with the battle cats?”
Wiping her eyes on the back of her hand, she sniffed several times, then slowly raised her head. “Yes. I helped train young karrons. Such tasks filled most of my days.”
“We have a karron cub that we’re responsible for, but we know very little about them. You could help Sara with...I can’t remember the cub’s name.”
“Weniffa,” she provided, her gaze starting to clear.
“That’s right. See, you already know more about it than me. Sara would love your assistance, but only if you’d enjoy helping her. Service of any kind is voluntary up here. The only thing we’re required to do is abide by the seven rules outlined in the Outcast Charter. Everything else is up to the individual.”
Her head tilted, and curiosity lit her expressive gaze. “What are the seven rules?”
“Go put on some clothes, and I’ll tell you.” He pointed to the bedroom. “Make sure you trigger the door before you drop the towel.”
Her gaze lowered, and her expression fell. “How is that accomplished? Most doors in the world below operate automatically.”
“Just wave your hand in front of the rectangular panel right next to the door.” She still seemed confused, so he asked, “Did you have a question?”
“Yes, sir. I have seen you press your hand against this ‘trigger’. Should I not do the same?”
Impressed by her powers of observation, not to mention her inquisitiveness, he explained, “Most outer doors require a palm scan to unlock them. The doors inside the cabins only need to be triggered.”
She nodded. “Thank you for the clarification.” After a brief hesitation, she added, “And, sir, I did not mean to offend you with my unclothed body. I honestly thought sexual service was what you wanted.”
“I know, and Arrista, I was not offended. You’re the most beautiful female I’ve ever seen, and I’ve journeyed to many galaxies.”
Glancing at him then away, she used her amazing hair to hide her expression. “If you find me pleasing, why did you...why didn’t you...” She heaved an exasperated sigh and ran into the bedroom before he could respond.
She didn’t understand any of this. He could not let himself forget that simple fact. Freedom was alien to her. She was like a caged bird trembling in the corner rather than flying out the open door. She had no desire for freedom because she had never experienced anything close to being free. It was sad, no tragic, and it filled him with determination. He would not just keep her safe. He would help her understand this strange new world. He would lead her through the changes until she not only accepted this reality, but learned to thrive within it.
ARRISTA STOOD IN THE middle of the bedroom, shaking with frustration and fear. The world above made no sense. She didn’t understand what they wanted or how she should behave. Males from the upper designations never denied themselves anything they desired, so Torrin had to be lying. He had found her distasteful in some way. Her shape was as it should be, nothing deformed or unusual. Had he been put off
by her pale skin and blue hair? Maybe he was only attracted to females of his species. But he’d considered claiming a mate among other species, so the fault must lie with her specifically. These Outcasts were territorial and possessive. Perhaps he wanted someone pure, untouched by other males. Many of the Ayrontu and Jintta were like that. They were more than happy to use females for their own gratification, yet when it came time for a serious relationship, they wanted a virgin. The hypocrisy had always infuriated her. That had to be it. Nothing else made sense. Torrin thought she was unclean, promiscuous—a whore.
His attitude shouldn’t surprise her. No one considered the Niffal when looking for a mate or long-term lover. The Niffal were to be used, enjoyed, and then discarded. But the Outcasts had cared enough to rescue her. For one blissful moment, she allowed herself to hope that she would mean more to these males than she had meant in the underground. She should have known better. Despite Torrin’s strange claims, he obviously found her lacking.
Her lips trembled, and tears blurred her vision. It wasn’t her fault. None of it had been her choice. When an Ayrontu or Jintta commanded a Niffal, the Niffal was expected to obey. If they ignored the summons or refused to accommodate even the most perverse need, they were punished in horrible ways, some even paid for their rebellion with their lives. The underground was a cold, unforgiving place for those born to the lower designations.
After fortifying herself with a deep breath, she moved to the bed and picked up the first garment on the stack. It was a shirt similar to the one Torrin wore. Rather than opening in front, however, this one was simply pulled on over the head. She donned the shirt before dropping the towel, trying to keep her shameful body covered.
Wiggling into the pants was awkward and unfamiliar. Females did not wear such masculine garments in the world bel—She had to stop equating everything to the underground. She was no longer part of the world below. Sara and Heather had worn such clothing, so apparently males and females dressed the same in the world above. The clothing fit well enough. The pants were a bit snug through the hips, but the shirt was nice and baggy. She’d been worried that the clingy material would outline her breasts and reveal her nipples. Torrin had already expressed his dislike for her body, so she would try hard not to insult him again.
She retrieved the comb from the compartment where she’d found it earlier and ran it back through her hip-length hair, then worked the thick mass into a tight braid. She had nothing with which to bind the end, so tied the entire length in a knot at the nape of her neck. It made her look older and less vulnerable. Good. It was never wise to reveal ones weaknesses to an enemy. She would be more careful from now on.
Was Torrin her enemy? She had to think about that question. He was acting like an ally right now, but things could change quickly. She needed to be careful and not give her trust too easily. It was a skill she’d never quite mastered.
Barefoot but otherwise clothed, she returned to the living room and her lethal-looking host. He’d returned to the chair he’d occupied earlier, so she sat on the sofa again. “Thank you for the garments. They are—appreciated.” She stumbled over the last word, unable to find a complimentary description for the unsuitable outfit.
He chuckled, his gaze warming as he looked at her. “Not your usual fashion?”
“Sarronti females do not wear male garments.”
“Our apparel database is comprised of military uniforms. We were able to alter the sizes, but the styles and fabrics are fixed.”
“Why did the human females not bring their clothing with them?”
He smiled while his gaze drifted away from her face. “Let’s save that story for another day. You asked about the Outcast Charter. Are you still interested in the mandatory rules?”
Knowing their laws would give her a better understanding of their priorities. She needed to learn all she could if she ever hoped to fit in. “I am very interested. Please explain.”
He extended his long leg in front of him, crossing them at the ankle. “When I’m finished, will you tell me about Sarronti laws? Who decides on punishments when laws are broken? That sort of thing.”
She nodded. Revealing anything about the underground still felt disloyal, but it was a reasonable request. “That seems only fair.”
“These rules are not prioritized,” he began. “All seven are vitally important. Number one, ‘obey the overlord.’”
“What happens if someone disobeys the overlord?”
“It depends on the severity of the disobedience. If they disregard something incidental, they are punished. But if they—”
“How? What sorts of punishments do Outcasts employ?”
“There are very few rules, so the consequences of breaking them are harsh. If anyone disobeys the overlord, it is considered a challenge. Kage can either fight him or banish him from the planet.”
That surprised her. Things were very different in the underground. “How long will the current overlord rule?”
“Until someone successfully challenges him. Six have tried and failed in the fourteen years Kage Razel has been in power.”
“What does that mean? What happens if someone challenges the overlord?”
He rested his hands on his flat belly, watching her closely. He seemed more interested in her physically than the conversation. If he didn’t want sexual service from her, why did he keep staring at her like he wanted to devour her?
“There’s a brutal fight,” he was saying. “The loser must beg for mercy or die. Most refuse to beg.”
“And the winner becomes the next overlord?”
He shook his head. “The winner must first be approved by a majority vote, or it is considered an unsuccessful challenge.”
“But what do the Outcasts do if the challenge is unsuccessful but the previous overlord is dead?”
Torrin smiled patiently, lounging in his high-backed chair. She wondered again if this were some sort of game. He seemed like a predator toying with his prey, entertaining himself until he lost interest and gobbled up his victim.
“The challenge is opened to all,” he told her. “The first two volunteers fight, and everyone votes on the winner. This continues until someone wins the fight and the vote or they run out of challengers. To my knowledge, that has never happened. It’s always the strongest and most vicious fighting, so the winner is generally approved.”
Inwardly, she shivered. She’d known they were mercenaries, but even their system of governance involved bloodshed. She hadn’t expected that level of barbarism. “How long have the Outcasts been together?”
“The group was founded about seventy years ago by three Rodyte techno-mages, so they were not hybrids. But frustrated battle born soldiers flocked to the group ten years later when military service became mandatory on Rodymia. Now the Outcasts have become a haven for hybrids from all over the known galaxies. About sixty percent are battle born. The other forty are a wide variety of those disenfranchised by their mixed blood.” He tilted his head and narrowed his gaze. “Have you heard of the battle born?”
She nodded. “They are children born of war brides, enemy females captured during the last Rodyte war with Bilarri. Girls are often born with their mother’s magic, while boys have large stores of dormant magic that can only be accessed once they claim a mate.”
“Very good.” Despite the praise, he didn’t seem pleased by her knowledge. “How did you learn all that?”
She shrugged, unsure why he was so annoyed. “Lady Isolaund has learned all she can about your people. Have you not done the same about the Sarronti?”
“We have, and we’d like to know more.” He paused, looking at her as if he were waiting for something.
She understood the inference. He wanted her to provide the information, but she wasn’t quite ready to share. “What is a techno-mage? I have not heard that term before.”
He studied her silently for a moment. It wasn’t fair that she kept asking questions if she wasn’t going to answer his.
Much to her surprise, he explained, “The primary conflict between Rodytes and Bilarrians involves magic. Bilarrians have it, and Rodytes don’t. The history is long and involved, but suffice it to say that Rodytes have spent all their time and most of their resources developing technologies that mimic Bilarrian magic. A group of Rodytes took this to the extreme and integrated technological systems right into their bodies. This allows them to perform feats so similar to Bilarrian magic that most cannot tell the difference. That’s why they’re called techno-mages. Magic through technology.”
“Are you a techno-mage?” She knew he was uncommonly strong, and his team had found their way into the underground. Something they should not have been able to do.
His features tensed and the warmth in his gaze cooled as he shook his head. “I’m...I’m not sure there’s a word for what I am. And to my knowledge, there is no one else like me.” He sat up a little straighter and cleared his throat. “Back to the world below. Does each designation have a representative on the council? Does someone rule over the council or are the council’s decisions final?”
She hesitated. He’d answered her questions. It was only fair that she answer some of his. Besides, what she was about to tell him was common knowledge and endangered no one. “There are six council members, one from each designation. Each designation chooses their leader in their own way. The choosing takes place after the seasons have cycled three times. Some vote, some are appointed. Much like your overlords, the Jintta are chosen through physical competition. Then the six council members elect a high councilor, which leaves that person’s seat vacant. So the high councilor’s designation ends up with two seats on the council. The past four high councilors have been from Ayrontu. Many think they bribe, or threaten, the other councilmembers. All I know is nothing ever changes. Lady Isolaund’s brother is the current high councilor.”
Assassin Page 3
