by Joanna Wylde
The noise died down, and then a new noise began. The main door to the slave barracks was opened, and suddenly the bustle of a hundred men preparing themselves for a day of work flooded the air. The barracks were fully sound-proofed, he realized. Interesting…
The door opened suddenly. He barely managed to drop his head in time, and for one minute he thought she’d caught him sitting up.
“You’re safe, it’s just me,” Bragan said. “I’ve come to check on you. She’s very excited that you’re awake, you know…and concerned,” he added with a laugh. “She wanted to make sure that I helped you with any ‘personal’ needs you might have before I leave for the mine.”
Jess looked at him, startled. Then a sly grin stole across his face.
“I hadn’t thought about that,” he said slowly. “This is going to be even better than I thought,” he said quietly. Bragan gave him a stern look.
“She’s a sweet little thing,” he said. “I have to admit, I like her. I don’t want you hurting her…”
“I don’t plan on hurting her,” Jess said. “But remember, she’s one of them. And they’re the reason we’re here. Don’t be getting too soft on her just because she’s a woman. If we’re going to escape this place, people are going to get hurt. Some of them may be women, you know.”
“I know,” Bragan said. “And I understand what you’re saying. I want to get out of here, too. But we’re a long way from any kind of successful escape attempt. And remember, you’re the only one who doesn’t have an implant. We still need to figure out how we’re going to be dealing with those, too…Logan wants me to do the surgery. I can’t do anything without some kind of pain killer, and she insists she can’t get any.”
“I have great faith in your abilities, Bragan,” Jess said. “You managed to get it out of me without killing me. I’m sure you’ll be able to do the same for the others when the time comes.”
“And suppose we pull this all off,” Bragan said. “What am I supposed to do? There’s no one to remove my implant.”
Jess stared hard at him.
“We’ll find a way to get you out too,” he said. Then he grinned. “Look on the bright side. We probably won’t survive the escape attempt. Don’t borrow trouble, Bragan.”
The doctor snorted, then looked to the door.
“I need to get going,” he said. “How are you feeling?”
“Pretty good, all things considered,” Jess said. “My head still aches, and I don’t have all my strength yet. But I’m doing considerably better than you’d think”
“Well, try to pretend you’re in terrible pain today. I want her to be worried about you, so worried that she’ll risk stealing those pain meds,” Bragan said. “Before I go, do you want me to help you with your ‘personal needs’?” he asked, grinning. Jess glared at him in response.
“I’m fine, thanks,” he said. “I’ll take care of myself.”
“Just don’t let her catch you doing it.”
“I know what I’m doing,” he replied. “You let me and Logan worry about the escape. You think about the best way to remove the implants.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Bragan replied, his tone turning serious. “Otherwise we’re all going to die here.”
“We’re going to die here anyway,” Jess said quietly. “I don’t know about you, but I’d rather die fighting.”
* * * * *
The slaves had eaten and were starting to put on their suits by the time she was able to get back to Jess. He looked so pale and weak…At least the bandage on the back of his head had stopped oozing. Bragan said he would need to continue using the antibiotics for the next two weeks.
“How are you?” she asked softly as she came into the room.
“My mouth is dry,” he whispered. “I can’t drink by myself.”
“Didn’t Bragan come in to see you?” she asked. “I thought I saw him in here.”
“Yes, he did,” Jess replied. “But I’m thirsty again. Can you help me?”
“Of course,” she said, kneeling next to him. Her breath caught, and she blushed. He was still naked under the covers; she was going to have to touch him. Not that she hadn’t touched him before, but this time he was awake and alert. It was totally different.
“Can you raise your head at all?” she asked.
“No,” he said, his voice thready. “My neck feels so weak. And it hurts. Bragan says I nearly died.”
“Yes, you did,” she replied. “It was horrible when they brought you up from the mine. I was sure you were dead.”
“Can you lift my head a bit so I can drink?” he asked, his eyes meeting hers. They were dark blue. Her breathing stopped. He was so handsome, better to look at than any man she’d ever met before. Without thinking, she raised her hand and pushed his black hair away from his eyes. He gave a feeble smile, and she smiled back. Even the scruff of hair along his chin was mesmerizing.
“Water?” he whispered again. She started in surprise. She’d forgotten all about the water.
“Sorry,” she replied, feeling a hot blush start up her cheeks. For some reason she just didn’t seem to think very well around this man.
Now, how to do this? She was going to have to raise him, and support his head somehow with her arm. Otherwise the water would just choke him.
“Bragan tells me you don’t have any paralysis. You’re lucky,” she said, leaning over him. He nodded, closing his eyes in exhaustion. Moving carefully, she rolled him to one side and slid her arm under his back. She lifted a bit, allowing his head to rest against her shoulder. It worked; he would be able to drink now. But his cheek was pressed squarely against her breast…
She grabbed the water with her other hand, roughly sloshing some of it onto the floor. He didn’t seem to notice, she realized with relief. Instead, he drank deeply as she held the cup to his mouth, lifting his head slightly as he did so.
Even though the cloth of her dress separated his body from hers, it felt as if a red-hot brand were touching her chest. She knew she must be blushing brightly. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to be noticing. He was focused on the water.
Then his head sank back against her softness. She started to lower him, but he spoke.
“No, I want more water,” he said. “But even this is very tiring, and I’m in a lot of pain. Can I just rest for a moment?”
“Of course,” she said, feeling guilty. She’d been so eager to get away from his touch that she hadn’t even thought of his needs. Some nurse she was turning out to be.
They sat there like that for at least five minutes. At first she was tense, but he seemed to be completely unaware of the inappropriateness of their position. He might be naked, she reminded herself, but only because he’s so sick. She must be some kind of pervert for reacting so strongly to his body. Why, he could be no more interested in her than a newborn baby was interested in its mother, she told herself. He needed food, water and care. She would provide it for him. If she did a good enough job, they would both survive this ordeal.
He was breathing slowly and steadily against her breast. Was he asleep? It seemed strange that he would drop off so quickly, and while he was thirsty. On the other hand, he did have a serious head injury, she reminded herself. Probably maintaining consciousness even briefly was difficult for him. She looked down at him with interest. He certainly seemed to be asleep.
She should really lay him down and get back to work.
But his breath against her breast was warm. Not warm, hot. She could feel his heat penetrating her clothing each time he exhaled. Her nipples hardened in response and she felt a tingle of sensation start right at the tip. Giving in to temptation, she closed her own eyes and leaned back against a storage unit, still holding him cradled against her body.
She told herself she was just taking care of him. She knew she was lying. Each breath sent a new tingle of sensation winding through her. They started at the peak of each breast, then shimmered down through her stomach toward that secret spot betwee
n her legs. Oh, it was wrong. He was sick; he wasn’t even conscious. But just holding him was so good she couldn’t make herself stop.
Feeling very daring, she raised her free hand and touched a strand of his hair. It was soft, and would hang around his shoulders when he was upright. Of course, she knew that from before. But somehow seeing it so close was different. Each strand was like silk. Bragan must have been helping him keep it clean somehow, she realized. She rubbed the lock of hair between her fingers. It was thick…what would it feel like to stick her fingers into it? She shivered.
He gave a little moan in his sleep. Guilt washed over her.
The poor man was probably in pain. His neck was injured; there was a terrible wound on the back of it. What kind of sick person would hold him this way and cause him more pain?
Moving carefully, she lowered him to the pallet. He was difficult to maneuver, and at one point she accidentally pressed both breasts against his face. He moaned again. Such suffering… She felt so bad for him. Perhaps she could find a way to steal some painkillers like Bragan had suggested. They were locked up, but still, she owed it to him after the way she’d hurt him.
Leaving the cup of water next to him, she stood and brushed herself off.
She had work to do. And when she finished, she was going to find him some painkillers. It was the least she could do, under the circumstances.
* * * * *
Jess gave a moan of relief when she closed the door behind her. Touching her was heaven and damnation all at once. The softness of her breasts against his cheek was the most wonderful thing he’d felt since he’d come to this hellhole. And when she’d almost dropped him she’d crushed his face against both her breasts. It had taken everything he had in his body to keep from reaching his arms around her, pulling her down to him.
Of course, his neck still hurt. He was weak. But he wasn’t dead.
She was incredibly naive. She had no idea the effect her touch had on his body. No one could have missed an erection the size of his under the blanket, yet she had been oblivious. It was a good sign; she may not be a virgin, but she wasn’t used to a man’s body. That meant she probably wasn’t married. It had been a long time since she had had sex, if ever.
One less person for him to kill, he thought darkly.
Because if she did have a husband, he would kill him. Of course, if their escape plan worked he’d have to kill a lot of the Pilgrims. This was about survival. But killing Bethany’s husband would have been more.
He reached down under the blanket, feeling his rock-hard cock. He was swollen, close to exploding. It was a mixture of exquisite pain and terrifying pleasure to be near her. Hopefully she would be checking on him regularly during the day, he thought with a grin. He had a feeling he would be very thirsty, and he would need a lot of help with his slow recovery. A part of him—the part that used to be human rather than a disposable life on a mining station—reminded him that he probably shouldn’t manipulate her like this.
Fortunately, that part of him was no longer in charge. She was all his, whether she knew it or not.
Chapter Four
Stealing the painkillers was much easier than she’d thought it would be. Just as she was waking the next cycle, her father came home drunk. Within seconds, he was bellowing at her to find “something to make his damn head stop hurting.” She had her excuse.
There were a few pain tabs in fresher, but she quickly pocketed them and went out into the living area. Careful to keep her eyes downcast, she folded her hands before her and waited for permission to speak.
“Where the hell are my pain tabs?” Bose demanded.
“You used them all last cycle,” she said quietly.
“You’re lying,” he said, words slurring together. “I would have remembered to get more. I never forget them. There were two left.”
“I’m sorry, father,” she replied quietly. Her heart raced. If she got caught in her lie, she was done for. But she owed it to Jess to help him… “But you called me late last cycle and had me bring you the rest of them. I believe you had more to drink, then.”
Bose wrinkled his forehead. She knew from experience that he had occasional blackouts. Not that he would admit it, of course.
“Oh, I remember now,” he said expansively, and she gave a sigh of relief. He was too proud to admit he might have blacked out. How much of his life was he missing, she wondered? He drank every night. What else could she get away with?
“But that’s no excuse for not having pain tabs when I need them,” he said, his voice growing angry.
“Father, I am not authorized to get pain tabs from the medical storage area,” she replied quietly. “I want only to serve you, but I can’t get you the medicine unless you give me that authority.”
He glared at her.
“I’ll take care of it,” he finally said, his voice tight. “You go to the infirmary and get the damn drugs. I’ll call ahead and let them know you’re coming.”
“I believe they’re closed for the cycle,” she added in a soft voice. He threw his glass at her, grunting in disgust. She ducked, and the clear liquid splattered against the wall behind her. It had been a mistake to provoke him, but failing to bring back his pain tabs would be a bigger mistake.
“I’ll call the medic in his rooms,” Bose said. “Now get my pain tabs, and then clean up this damn mess.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, making for the door. She had to hide a smile. The first part of her plan was working out just fine.
Most of the corridors were deserted as she made her way to the infirmary. The only people still awake were the women who prepared food for the returning blasters. They also prepared the gruel for the slaves. Bethany knew the tasteless mixture that formed their entire diet was nutritious. But it was also disgusting. Until she had started caring for the slaves on a regular basis, she hadn’t realized how good her life was, she mused. They certainly had a more difficult time of it than she did.
Garand, the station’s medic, didn’t look happy to see her when she arrived. He paced nervously outside the infirmary door, pausing only to glare at her.
“You shouldn’t have let your father run out of pain tabs,” he said tightly. “He’s a dangerous man when he’s angry.”
“I realize that,” she said dryly. “But if I had come to you before now, would you have given me pain meds? I was under the impression that all narcotics are restricted.”
“Well, they are,” he acknowledged. “But in your case I would have made an exception. We both know your father goes through a lot of them. From now on you can come here and get what you need. I’ll key your thumbprint to the lock. I can’t afford to have your father angry at me again.”
Bethany stared at him, shocked. Without thinking, she blurted out a question.
“What did he say to you?”
“He threatened to have me put outside the airlock,” Garand said, hands trembling. “He said he’d do it without taking me to the council first. I believe him, too.”
“I didn’t realize that,” she said slowly, mind spinning. Bose’s actions were completely out of line, even for an elder. “I can’t believe he’d do that. It would be crazy; it could cost him his seat on the council.”
“Do you really think he’s still sane?” Garand asked, his voice bitter. “I don’t.”
“I can’t believe you just said that,” she replied. “If Bose heard that he’d—”
“What? He’d go crazy?” Garand gave a harsh bark of laughter. “Too late. Beside that, you’re the only one who’s heard me say it. It would be my word against yours. Bose hates you and the entire station knows it. I don’t have anything to fear from you. You’d better keep him happy or you’ll be the first to go.”
With that, he thrust a bottle of pills into her hand. She backed out of the infirmary, shivering. Garand hated her father, and he seemed to hate her, too. How many others here shared that malevolence?
Suddenly, she didn’t want to know.
Turning a
way, she started walking quickly back toward her father’s quarters. She palmed the door open, only to find her father holding Moriah in a tight embrace. She gave a little gasp of surprise, and he turned to her.
“Good, you’re back,” he said. He wore a broad smile, seemingly unaware of the impropriety of the situation. His features were flushed red, and he wobbled unsteadily. Moriah looked terrified, but she stood beside him, propping him up as best she could.
“I have good news for you,” Bose said. “You’re going to have a new mother. Moriah and I will be marrying soon.”
Bethany looked at Moriah, compassion for the younger woman filling her heart. She didn’t deserve this. But there was nothing she could do about it…
“Congratulations, father,” Bethany said. “I look forward to your wedding.”
“Oh, you won’t be there,” Bose said. Her heart froze. Why wouldn’t she be there? Was he planning to put her outside the airlock already? Had he changed his mind about giving her two weeks?
“You’ll be sleeping,” he said. “You’ve got work to do while the rest of us sleep. I won’t have you neglecting your chores because of a wedding. Now where are my pain tabs?”
“Here they are, father,” she said, quickly taking two out of the bottle. “Shall I get you something to wash them down with?”
“No, Moriah will do that,” Bose said. He wavered, then stumbled over to his chair. Collapsing in it, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “Moriah will be taking care of me from now on. You’ll stay here for now. Until I find a better place for you. Now get to work.”
Shivering, Bethany handed Moriah the two tabs and then quietly opened the door to leave. Moriah clutched her hand, and leaned over to whisper, “Please don’t tell anyone I’m here. You know what will happen if they find out.”
