“I don’t sleep with my controller,” she said, getting into the role. “And I’m not starting with you, even if you did kill Jareck.”
Conor paused in the doorway. “Since there’s no other bed, you can sleep with me or on the floor, suit yourself. I don’t think the floor will be too good for your cracked rib, do you?” He tossed her one of his soft T-shirts. “You can sleep in this. Your turn in the bathroom, but leave the door open. I promise not to peek. Too often.”
Miriell rose, clutching the shirt, which carried a faint hint of his warm, reassuring scent, and passed him on her way to the bathroom. When she’d changed and taken care of the personal necessities, she re-entered the bedroom, the T-shirt covering her to the knees, to find him waiting on the bed. He raised the comforter, revealing he’d gone to bed attired only in sweat pants, and motioned.
“All right, come over here. I’m tired, and I’ve got a long day tomorrow.”
She crawled into the bed as he did something to turn off the lights and lay stiffly on her back, the cracked rib aching with every breath. The bed was huge, and Conor left plenty of room between them, making it clear he wasn’t going to make any moves. Miriell thought of her sister and the others, realizing again that she’d probably never know their fate. Tears fell, and she put a hand over her mouth, trying to keep the grief inside.
“Hey,” he said quietly. “It’s all right to cry it out. You’ve had a rough day, Priestess.”
Blindly, she shifted toward the sound of his voice, and he drew her close, holding her tight with only the blanket bunched between them. She could feel his arousal as they lay together, but he made no effort to initiate anything more than an embrace meant to comfort her as she wept. She cried until she could hardly breathe, lost in her grief and pain, and all the while he held her, murmuring reassurances in her ear, combing her hair with his fingers, letting her know she’d found a safe harbor, for the moment at least. Eventually, she was cried out, a shell of herself, weak and tired.
“Better now?” he asked. “Think you can sleep?”
She nodded.
“Change your mind about a painkiller?”
“No, I try not to take human meds, too uncertain what effect the drugs might have on me. But thank you.” Miriell made to slide back to her side of the bed.
He held her a second longer, speaking softly, barely above a whisper, the words meant only for her and not Opherra’s listening devices. “I’ll get you back to the garden, I swear. I know you must need another dose of energy pretty badly, but we can’t risk it for a few days. Boss lady will be keeping a close eye on me. Can you manage?”
Making her voice equally subdued, she said, “Yes. Unless I’m required to exert my power, because right now I have virtually none. I even tried striking at Jareck, although he is—was—immune.”
“All right, then.” He released her, and she scooted to the left onto now cold sheets. “Good night and good dreams, Priestess.” He rolled onto his side, facing away from her.
Worn out from the weeping and the emotions, she soon drifted off to sleep.
When she woke in the morning, a bit disoriented, Conor was already up and getting dressed. A room-service cart sat at the foot of the bed.
“Hey, doing okay this morning?” he said with a grin, fastening his shirt.
Rubbing her eyes, she sat up against the pillows. “Do I smell breakfast?”
“I have a standard order, so we’ll have to share this morning, but tell me what you like, and I’ll have the kitchen add the new items tomorrow.”
Laughing, she moved to the foot of the bed and started uncovering the plates. She took a slice of melon and savored the sweet juice as it soothed her throat. “On Devir 6, the keepers shove a bowl of gruel and a tube of water through the slot in my cell door twice a day. Here, Jareck gave me ration bars for breakfast, when he remembered.” She took a forkful of spicy eggs and inhaled the scent for a moment. “This is heaven.”
Conor stared at her. “I didn’t think I could get any angrier at the way you’ve been treated, but whenever you give me more details—” He stopped himself, glancing at a spot on the ceiling where she guessed there was a voice sensor. He went to the closet and selected a jacket, dropping it on the back of a chair while he strapped on the shoulder holster, checking the small but efficient-looking blaster.
“What’s on the agenda for today?” She spread orange jam onto a slice of dark, grainy bread. Despite Conor’s good intentions, this might be the one and only special breakfast she got, and she didn’t plan to hold back. Her body required physical fuel as much as it needed the energy of growing things.
“I have to be gone most of the day. I have a lot of responsibilities on Opherra’s behalf, since she has, shall we say, diversified enterprises. I don’t like leaving you alone here, but it would raise a lot of questions if I took you with me. I should be back in the late afternoon.” He pointed at the bed. “I left you the trideo controls so you can watch something to pass the time, if you want to.”
She located the small AI next to his pillow and picked it up to study the controls, labeled in Basic, which she couldn’t read. Hopefully, the device would be simple to use. “Thank you.”
“Miriell.”
The serious tone of his voice caught her attention. Stomach sinking, she saw he was holding the shackles. She set the toast down, not hungry any longer. Why did I let myself think he’d be any different than the others? I thought he trusted me. Disappointed, angry, she scooted back on the bed until she hit the pillows.
He sat beside her, his face troubled. Setting the shackles on the bed between them, he reached for her hand and dropped the key into her palm, folding her fingers over it. Leaning in as if to kiss her, he said in a husky whisper, “We have a truce, you and I. But I know Opherra doesn’t trust me where you’re concerned, and I know how she thinks. She’ll probably send someone to check on you during the day, and if you’re not restrained, we’ll both be in trouble.”
“What do you want me to do?”
He took the cuffs and fastened one to the ornamental rail of the bed, checking that the ring would slide so she had some range of motion. Miriell clutched the key, watching him in disbelief and with the beginning of hope. Conor moved back to her. Whispering in her ear again, he said, “If you hear someone at the door, snap the other one on your ankle quick, okay?”
Swallowing hard, she nodded. He patted her shoulder and rose, going to collect his jacket. “I’ll see you later, then.”
CHAPTER FIVE
While he was gone, she had two quick visits from Opherra’s henchmen, who checked the security of her ankle cuff and left without saying anything. Miriell decided to leave herself chained to the bed after the second visit, afraid she might be taken by surprise and ruin whatever Conor was trying to accomplish. Even if all he was attempting was to improve her life for a few days, she was grateful and she’d take the break in her routine. She had no wish to bring trouble to him.
She heard the door open for the third time, but Conor’s voice was reassuring as he called a greeting to her. He walked into the bedroom, taking off his jacket and pausing for a moment as he took in her fastened shackles. “Company?”
“Twice.”
“No one touched you, did they? I made it crystal clear you were not to be molested.”
“Neither of them said even one word to me, just checked the cuff and left.”
“Good. I’m going to take a shower. We’ve got to accompany Opherra tonight, so Tamlu will be here in a few minutes to get you dressed and made up.”
“Will I be targeting Bazin again?” She surprised herself by asking a question. Usually, she stayed stubbornly silent with those who held her in chains, outwardly uncaring about their uses for her power. But we have a truce, Conor and I. The idea was pleasing.
“No, Opherra has a standing dinner appointment with the various heads of her operations once a quarter. It’s part business meeting, part team building, part she’s a queen and her unde
rlings better goddamn worship her. Kiss the ground she walks on. She gets off on that.” He disappeared into the bathroom.
Although surprised he’d make the scornful observation where Opherra’s listening devices could overhear, Miriell wondered why her presence was required at the meeting if all the participants were already under the crime boss’s thumb.
As if he’d heard her inner musing, Conor stuck his head out the bathroom door. “She wants you to assess the key people, see if any of them are less than loyal. You can scan them, right?”
Miriell nodded. “But my power is still low.”
“Oh, you’ll like this restaurant, I promise.” He disappeared from view without explaining the odd remark, and a moment later, she heard the water running.
“Hello?”
It was Tamlu’s voice, coming from the sitting room.
“In here,” Miriell said. She almost unlocked the ankle cuff before remembering Tamlu wasn’t a person to be trusted.
“Well, you’ve certainly improved your situation. Sleeping in Conor’s bed now, better than the cold couch all alone, I’m sure.” Tamlu winked. She dumped the armful of dresses onto the end of the bed. “I need you in a chair to do your makeup.”
Miriell raised her leg enough to make the chain visible.
“Seven hells.” Tamlu pounded on the bathroom door. “I need her on the loose so I can get her ready.”
Conor emerged from the steamy room a moment later, a towel loosely wrapped around his hips. “Sorry.” He bent over the cuffs, hiding his actions from Tamlu with his body, and the restraint opened smoothly, even though he had no key. He gave Miriell a conspiratorial wink. The towel slipped, and before he caught it, Miriell caught a glimpse of his impressive thigh muscles and long, thick cock. Desire pulsed deep inside her as she remembered the feel of his arousal against her belly last night, but she pushed the thought away. Rising from the bed, she stretched to unkink her muscles and then walked to the chair Tamlu indicated.
“Maybe I won’t have so many bruises to cover up now that your creepy controller is out of the picture,” Tamlu said, picking up an applicator. “Unless you and Conor get too into each other, like to play rough.”
“It isn’t like that.” Miriell bit her lip, annoyed at getting drawn into a discussion. Conor could defend himself if he felt the need.
Tamlu didn’t say anything else, concentrating on finishing the elaborate makeup. Then she went to study the dresses she’d brought. Conor came into the room while she was debating. Leaning on the door, he said, “Why don’t you let her pick? She’s not some doll you get to play dress-up with, you know.”
“I didn’t think she cared.” Blushing, the assistant pivoted to where Miriell sat. “All right, you choose, then. The black, the yellow or the white and green?”
Miriell shook her head. Ignoring Tamlu, she addressed Conor. “And if I decide to wear my gray tunic and leggings from Devir 6, rather than some bespangled castoff from Opherra’s closet, will my selection be all right?”
Brow furrowed, he shot her an exasperated glance. “No, it’s a formal dinner.” He gestured at himself, attired in another obviously expensive suit. “We have to fit in.”
“Then it doesn’t matter what I think, does it? I’m not making my own choices, not even whether to go to dinner or not, in fact.” She shrugged. “Still a prisoner.” Make it clear to gossipy Tamlu that I know my status hasn’t changed.
Frowning, Tamlu looked at them and then went to the chair and picked up the black gown. “Guess we’ve settled the issue. Here, this one will go best with his suit. And it clashes the least with the hideous necklace you always wear.”
Miriell allowed the woman to help her dress, while Conor retreated to the bedroom. Paradoxically, she appreciated his discretion, not lingering to watch as she stripped and dressed in the elaborate, lacy, black, boned underwear required to make the gown fit properly. Thinking of his eyes on her as she dressed or undressed made her want to press her thighs together to stop the delicious sensations building there. Will he ever make a move toward me, despite his scruples? Would I welcome his advances? Miriell admitted to herself she would. Conor attracted her in many ways, not to discount his kindness or his appearance. He re-entered the bedroom as she was sliding on the shoes and picked up a shawl to drape over her shoulders.
“We’ll be late if we don’t hit the gravlift now,” he said, taking her by the elbow. “Thanks, Tamlu.”
“Have fun, kids. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She started cleaning up the makeup table.
When they reached the lobby, there was no sign of Opherra. One of the other Amarotu soldiers, whom Miriell recognized as one who had checked on her earlier in the day, waited by the pillar where the group usually convened to wait for the boss. She shivered a little, realizing that the last time she’d stood there, it had been with Jareck. And now he was dead, his presence erased as easily as if he’d never been, apparently.
“Where’s the boss lady?” Conor asked.
“Not coming. She decided to take care of something else, so she told me you’re in charge and to give her a full report later.”
“All right, let’s get going, then.” Conor took Miriell by the elbow and headed outside to the groundcar.
“Is that usual? For her to skip the dinner?”
Conor handed her into the backseat of the car. “Yeah, happens occasionally. I know what she wants accomplished and who she wants leaned on.” He settled in next to her, his hip pressing against hers. “Word is she might be in line for a big promotion, and then yours truly would step in to take over this branch of the business. She trusts me to watch her back and keep the profits high.”
“The Combine is very complicated,” Miriell said, thinking of the small glimpses of the criminal conglomerate she’d had on various assignments.
“Makes us harder for the SCIA to kill.” Conor exchanged grins with the other soldier.
The two men fell into a conversation about some aspect of a gambling racket their branch was running, and Miriell sat back, seeking inner peace. Her power was at a dismally low ebb, and she hoped with Opherra not in the party after all, she wouldn’t be called upon for anything. She glanced at Conor as he laughed easily over something his friend said. How long can he keep his boss from carrying out her threats to get rid of me? Her frustration mounted, because they’d had no chance to talk privately, and she felt equally upset with herself at the way her attraction to the man grew the longer she was near him. I’ve no right to any personal happiness, not until the wrongs done to my people have been avenged. And he’s blood sworn to Amarotu, like all the rest, no better. But as lofty as her inner resolve sounded, the truth was, she was drawn to Conor as she’d been drawn to no other male, from her own world or in the Sectors. And there were those elusive blue flickers deep in his core.
“We’ve arrived.” The object of her thoughts nudged her gently in the ribs, apologizing instantly as she winced. “Sorry! How could I forget?”
“I’m better than yesterday,” she said, smiling.
He helped her from the groundcar, and they entered the restaurant. The manager was waiting, a short, plump, overly obsequious man who seemed much too upset when he learned Opherra wasn’t going to attend the night’s meal. Miriell found his demeanor so odd that she was tempted to send a tendril of power his way to seek out the cause of his nerves.
Conor distracted her. “There’s something I want you to see before we have to go into the reception.” He tugged her toward a door at the side of the hall the manager was escorting them down. “Saviano,” he said to the other Combine soldier, “tell the others we’ll join them shortly.” Opening the portal, he whisked Miriell outside, pausing as she realized he’d brought her to another garden.
“How beautiful,” she said, savoring her surroundings. One enormous tree whose branches extended over the restaurant itself stood in the center of the area, the centerpiece of a tastefully arranged space that included a fish pond, a bench, paths, shru
bs and flowers. A fountain burbled somewhere close by. The garden had been lit artistically and was incredibly appealing to her. She stepped onto the crushed-stone path leading toward the tree. “May I?”
Conor gestured her forward. “By all means. I’ll make sure we have time after dinner, but take a quick sip if you need to.”
“The energy will help me heal faster,” she said, laying her hands on the trunk. This tree’s bark was smooth, and she gasped at the sheer age of the plant. Whispering a small incantation to thank the tree for sparing her a drink of life-force, she felt happy and a bit dizzy as her power was restored. Her ribs tingled as the damage Jareck had inflicted repaired itself, cell by cell.
“The others are all waiting, Mr. Stewart. Perhaps you and your lady friend can admire the garden later?” The restaurant manager was standing on the steps, holding the door open, a worried frown on his face. A waiter hovered anxiously behind him.
“Maybe we should move the dinner out here.” Conor laughed. “My lady’s enjoying herself. It’s a mild enough evening.”
“Could we?” Miriell felt a definite reluctance at the idea of venturing inside again and spending the evening cooped up with a crowd of Amarotu captains and their arm candy.
“The…the garden’s not big enough for twenty-four guests and waiters. We’d have to move tables, the food is already cooked, the dishes would get cold—” The manager’s litany of excuses was stammered and staccato.
“All right, no need to work yourself up.” Conor slapped the man on the shoulder. “It was just an idea. Maybe next time we can book the garden ahead for an intimate dinner.”
Mopping his forehead with a handkerchief, the manager quickly agreed. “I’d be happy to take your reservation, Mr. Stewart, any time.”
“It’s a lovely idea,” Miriell said, giving the tree one last caress, as if it was a pet. She joined Conor as he followed the owner inside. “Is there anything you want me to do?” she asked Conor in a low voice before their small procession reached the big dining space at the rear of the building.
Danger in the Stars: (The Sectors SF Romance Series) Page 7
