Surrender: Saving Setora (Book Six) (Dark Dystopian Reverse Harem MC Romance)

by Raven Dark

  I looked at each of my men. My heart broke at the thought of Julian ending them, of his killing Sinister and his group or Mayhem and his men, of him doing Maker knew what to the women here, and especially Cherry and my mother.

  My gaze snagged on Hawk as he assessed me. I couldn’t read his expression. He began to pace.

  Doc stood, went to a small table by the bed, and grabbed his stethoscope from his kit. “Let’s focus on you, Setora. I want to check your vitals. You have quite a concussion, plus a dislocated shoulder.”

  I closed my eyes briefly, then opened them, meeting his grey ones. “So that’s why they hurt so bad.”

  Doc’s strained smile was empathetic. “Yes. And even with your Violet healing, it’s going to be slow going for you the next day or two. But at least I know for sure there weren’t any lasting effects to your memory or nervous system.”

  I almost glanced at Hawk and Steel, wanting to assure them that I was, indeed, going to be okay. But I had a feeling that if I looked at them now, they’d feel even more guilt than they obviously already did.

  “Masters,” I said, turning my focus to the dream. “What about the woman I saw?”

  I could visibly see all of them trying to get a handle on that one. Sheriff cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. I could feel it; none of them thought she was real.

  Doc’s smooth and cool stethoscope touched my chest, his hand warm on my wrist, feeling for my pulse.

  “Setora, tell me something.” He kept his eyes averted as he listened to my heart. “In your dream, was this warrior a Violet?”

  “Well, yes. But—”

  “With purple hair and eyes?”

  I knew where he was going. “Yes, she was a True Violet. But she—”

  “Setora, you are a Violet,” Doc said slowly, removing the stethoscope and placing it on the bed. “What is more likely? A female appearing in your dream to save you from a man who has abilities well above your own, or that you created the image of a warrior version of yourself so that you could escape him?”

  “Doc.” I held up my cuffed wrists, showing him my palm. “How would I cut myself? Why would I have? And if it wasn’t me, then how did I get this? I’m telling you. The warrior that saved me was female, and she was real. As real as Julian. Trust me. And what’s more, she was Yantu. She—”

  “Yantu?” Pretty Boy said in disbelief.

  “Yes!” I snapped without thinking.

  “Princess, calm down. We—”

  “Okay, look,” Sheriff said simply. “We don’t know how you got that cut, but however that happened, even if a woman could be a fighter, the Yantu order doesn’t allow women. What you’re saying is ridic…” He coughed, then cleared his throat. “It’s just too unlikely, sweetheart.”

  I heard his omission. They thought it was all in my head. The feelings rising to the surface at such a thought were enough to make me scream.

  “It’s impossible,” he repeated.

  “No, it’s not.”

  My gaze jerked to Hawk, who had stopped pacing and was looking at all of us. He’d said the words so quietly I almost hadn’t heard him.

  “Master?”

  Knowing what I did about the Yantu, Hawk had been the last person I’d have expected to agree with me. Sheriff was right, they didn’t allow females in their order.

  I glanced at the others, all of whom had gone silent, and found them looking at him as they had been at me a moment ago, as if he were insane.

  Hawk sighed and clasped his hands behind his back as if waiting for something.

  “Hawk?” Sheriff blinked at him. “Care to elaborate?”

  Hawk cleared his throat. “Strictly speaking, the Yantu do not allow females beyond the gates of any temple. But on occasion, the higher masters have allowed a woman to practice. It’s extremely rare, but it happens.”

  I stared at Hawk, open-mouthed.

  “But how?” Pretty Boy demanded. “How does that even work? Don’t the Yantu call for an apprentice to fight men of higher levels or something as part of their tests? Even if a woman could do that, if either were caught, the master and the student would both be…”

  “Killed, yes,” Hawk said. “That’s why it’s always done in secret. In the rare instances that a woman is allowed to become an apprentice, she must always disguise herself as a man. She is accepted only if she presents some sort of unusual situation that warrants the risk posed both to her and to the master who trains her. Her disguise must be kept in place so that only the tai dan who chooses to teach her knows she is a female.”

  “You’ve seen a woman in the order?” Doc asked, his expression one of incredulity.

  “I thought I did once. I’d heard stories that a master in another order was teaching a woman warrior. I told myself when I saw her that I was imagining it. Obviously, I wasn’t. Or at least, the stories must be true.”

  “What master would allow that?” Doc asked. “It would be dangerous for both of them.”

  “One of them obviously did.” Hawk shrugged. “There is something I find more interesting, however. Whenever the stories of female fighters have arisen, the woman is always a Violet.”

  I tried to absorb what I was hearing but thinking about it made my head pound even more. “Wait, Master, there’s something the woman said.”

  Hawk raised one dark brow.

  I thought back, trying to remember the words. “She said, ‘I’ll be waiting at the Mountain.’ Or something like that. Does that mean anything to you?”

  He looked thoughtful for a moment, but then shook his head.

  I wasn’t remembering the phrase exactly right. I squinted through the dull ache in my head.

  Apparently picking up on my discomfort, Doc put his hand on my shoulder. “Setora, take it easy. We don’t have to talk about the dream anymore for now.” He handed me a mug of water poured from a pitcher on the table, and a small white pill. “Here, take this. It won’t make you sleepy, but it will help with the pain.”

  Sheriff pushed to his feet beside me and scrubbed his face. “This is fucking insane.” He glanced at Hawk, then at the rest of us. “Well, even if this savior in Setora’s dream was a woman…” He sounded like he choked on the word woman. “Even if it was, and even her being a Violet, that doesn’t explain how she managed to cut Setora in a dream and the cut is still there now.”

  I turned my eyes to Hawk, waiting for him to explain.

  “You’re right, it doesn’t. And I have no answer for that. No matter what she is, she shouldn’t be able to affect the waking world from a dream. Not even Master Leif can do that. It makes me wonder if Julian can do the same.”

  “If he can, we have a whole other set of problems,” Steel said.

  “But if he could, why hasn’t he done it already?” Doc asked.

  “And there is something else,” Pretty Boy added. “If Setora was in Julian’s head instead of him being in hers, then you were right, Hawk. She might be able to find him for us, and even sever the link between them. We’d just have to figure out how she did it.”

  “And I’d have to teach her to do it at will,” Hawk finished. He smiled, looking proud of me.

  “Do you think you could do that, Master? Teach me how to control it?”

  “Hold on a minute.” Sheriff’s voice was stern. “We talked about this before. We’re not letting her knowingly seek him out unless we have no choice.”

  Everyone else nodded as he continued.

  “Let’s see what this specialist has to say. And see if we can get any closer to finding those Ladies of Shana Whatever-They’re-Called before we worry about the next step. So far, we haven’t been able to nail down their location; all we’ve been looking at are maps and old documents, and neither one has told us a thing.”

  Just then, Horse rapped on the glass door. “Legion?”

  “What’s going on, Horse?” Sheriff went to the glass, looking like he was glad to be talking about something else.

  Horse slid the door open. “Ge
neral. Mayhem wanted me to tell you the specialist is here.”

  “Already?” Pretty Boy set his hand on my good shoulder, his blue eyes hopeful. “He’s early.

  “Thanks, Horse. We’ll be up in a minute.” Sheriff shut the door and turned to me with a glance at the others. “Setora, I want you to tell this doctor everything, no matter how small. Any piece of information could help us stop him and stop what’s happening to you.”

  “I will, Master.” Even though I was still miffed about his patronizing comments from earlier, I knew that he was just as worried as the others.

  “Maybe now we’ll finally get some answers.” Doc handed me the cup of water until I drank the rest of it. “Let’s get you into some clean clothes. Pretty Boy, can you dress her while I check on her shoulder? I’ll have to take off the sling. Setora, you aren’t to move this arm until I say so, understood?”

  I nodded, my mind whirling with everything that had transpired since I’d awakened. I shut the thoughts down. Now that the specialist had arrived, everything else would have to be set aside.

  I wanted to do whatever I had to do to stop Julian, and if this specialist on Violets could help us deal with him, I’d do whatever he required of me, but medical professionals had always made me a little nervous. People in the medical field normally showed an unsettling fascination toward me, the kind that made me feel abnormal. When this one heard about the things I could do, he’d probably never leave me alone.

  I trusted Doc, but I’d gotten to know him over the last few months, and he’d never done anything to make me feel like a freak.

  As Doc took off the sling, Hawk grabbed a clean frock off of one of the shelves on the wall. Pretty Boy undid the cuffs at my wrists and kissed my forehead.

  “Don’t be afraid, Princess. We’re here, everyone’s okay, and we’re going to get some answers. And if this doctor or whatever the fuck he is doesn’t have anything helpful for us, then we’ll keep looking.”

  Steel came around to the foot of the bed, distracting me from the discomfort of what Doc was doing to my arm. “We’ll be right there with you the whole time. And if this specialist gets uppity with you, maybe you can just kick his ass.” He snorted.

  “That’s not funny, Master.” I looked pointedly at his splinted fingers, the ones I’d broken.

  “Yes, it is.” He rubbed my foot and grinned.

  I closed my eyes as Pretty Boy gingerly pulled the frock over my head and started helping me into the new one Hawk handed him. What would the specialist be like? What would he want me to do?

  The fear of the meeting with him, however, didn’t quite push aside the thought of the offer Julian had made me.

  He had said he’d keep my loved ones protected, but only if I willingly joined him.

  There was one comfort in what had happened in that dream.

  I never had a chance to answer him.

  Chapter 9

  The Coming Storm

  The long-awaited Doctor Sharland Olan was exactly as I had pictured—austere, removed, and as Steel had guessed, uppity. That he was knowledgeable wasn’t in question; on the contrary, he knew his stuff. He knew more about Violets than I’d ever imagined.

  About an hour after dressing—and after quite a bit of fussing from Steel and Pretty Boy—Sheriff had come back to the cell, telling us that Mayhem and my mother had wanted me in attendance for this meeting with the specialist. So now here we were, in the clubhouse again, gathered in the meeting area where my mother and I had spent precious moments getting acquainted the previous day.

  My Four and Doc were present, along with Mayhem and Mother, her doctor, Stitch, and Eagle Eye, Mayhem’s Captain of the Guard.

  Steel had assisted me from the cell to the clubhouse, insisting every few minutes that he carry me, but I declined each offer. I already felt weak enough, both physically and in spirit, and secretly begged my Violet healing acceleration to work double time. I was tired of being in the same predicament time and time again.

  Sweat beaded my brow after only a few minutes of walking. I wiped it away and joined the others on the meeting area’s large sectional. Sheriff sat on my right, Steel on my left. Pretty Boy leaned back on the sofa at Steel’s other side, and Hawk ignored the couch, standing at the end of the coffee table that sat in the middle of the group. Across from us, Mayhem and Mother were seated close together, Mayhem with his arm around her shoulder. To the right of them, in a leather chair, was a man whom I assumed to be the specialist.

  Mayhem was in deep conversation with the new arrival, so when we’d first found our seats, their attention wasn’t on us, giving me a few moments to observe the doctor.

  Appearing neither old nor young, so that it was difficult to tell his age, the specialist had a bald spot on the crown of his head surrounded by a wreath of silvery gray hair. His ageless face was ruddy with a tan complexion, the shade of cinnamon. He wore small spectacles with thin, metal frames perched on his bulbous nose. Compact and wiry with a slight effeminate air about him, he exuded culture. I couldn’t help thinking of Damien’s man, Griesha, my primary physician from the age of six until the day I was stolen from Hell’s Burning. Griesha and I had developed a very strange relationship—he, never trusting me, and I never trusting him. Both of us had always ignored that fact when dealing with each other.

  “And this is General Sheriff’s Captain of the Guard, Hawk,” Mayhem was saying, introducing Hawk last. “The Legion also has an interest in your being here, Doctor Olan. Their woman’s been hit with this ailment, just like Dalathine.” Turning to us, Mayhem gestured to the specialist. “Gentlemen, this is Doctor Sharland Olan.”

  With his hands pressed together at his knees, Doctor Olan regarded our party. “General, pleased to meet you. And your Violet.” His eyes turned to me for a moment, looking me over like a specimen in a lab. Then he nodded to a large man standing behind him. “Oh, and gentlemen, this is my assistant, Lan Greeger.”

  The assistant said nothing, giving us a nod. With a thick, but neatly cropped black beard and wearing the same white smock Doctor Olan wore but stretched over a much larger, barrel-shaped chest, he looked imposing, the kind of man who could handle any patient Doctor Olan dealt with. He held the doctor’s medical bag in front of him, standing at his employer’s shoulder like a guard on duty.

  Sheriff nodded to Greeger and then focused on the doctor. “Doctor Olan, you said you think you have an idea as to what’s wrong with our Violets? What did you call it again?”

  “A-V One virus, yes. As I said, the virus only affects Violets.”

  “Virus?” I asked, incredulous.

  “Setora,” Sheriff gripped my thigh firmly. “Go on, Doctor Olan.”

  The specialist turned then, facing his body toward us in a way that conveyed he was willing to share information.

  “Setora, is it?” At my nod, he continued, addressing me while he talked. “What a unique name. Anyway, I was telling both generals and their doctors that my staff at the Reach in Ulla have been working tirelessly with this virus. It made itself known to us a few months ago. Since then, we have been collecting samples from those infected from zones all over the world. Not only studying it, but also working on a cure.”

  Speechless, I could only stare at him. A virus? That’s what he and his colleagues thought this was?

  “Doctor Olan, if I may,” Doc said. “How does this virus present, and what is the prognosis?”

  Thank the Maker for Doc. I had a feeling he was having difficulty believing this theory as well. I looked over at Mother and noticed her pursed lips. If there were ever a sign of my mother’s temper, it was that expression. I tried to get her attention, but her eyes were glued to the specialist.

  “Interestingly, we aren’t sure of the initial symptoms. Since the A-V One virus is relatively new to us, first-person accounts aren’t as easy to come by. Not when Violets themselves are rare. Being as they’re so coveted, a slave falling ill with A-V One isn’t something most owners advertise.”

 
; He paused to look at my ‘owner’ and then to my mother’s. Mayhem raised an eyebrow. Doctor Olan cleared his throat.

  “Therefore,” he continued, “our initial findings are varied, leading to a lot of missing information. But to answer your question with something substantial, doctor, most symptoms make themselves known during the sleeping state. Erratic sleep cycles, restlessness, vivid dreams. When the virus is in full swing, seizures are common, as are memory and fugue-like states of hallucinations or apathy. Very like an illness in the Old World called—”

  “Wyn’s Disease,” Doc interjected. When everyone looked at him, lost, he added, “In the Old World, a man named Kaylan Wyn was given to the same symptoms. He was reported to claim he had bugs crawling under his skin when there were none. He believed he had another person inside his head who told him to harm himself or others. He would repeatedly slip into a prolonged fugue state. When he talked while in that state, he believed he was a long dead king.”

  Doctor Olan gave Doc a nod. “Precisely. You know your medical history, then.”

  I couldn’t help thinking his response sounded as if he were congratulating a child.

  By the way Doc stretched his neck, I knew he felt the same. Catching me looking at him, he winked. I smiled in return.

  “And the cure you mentioned…?” Mayhem asked, lighting a cigar.

  “An antiviral medication we’re calling Antivion. It’s a trial, of course, but something that we believe is showing promise.” Hands on his knees, Doctor Olan focused on Mayhem and Mother. “It has definitely proven to lessen the worst of the symptoms, the ones at the more rampant stages, if you will.”

  The aggressive stage, I guessed. The stage where Mother and I were.

  Hawk squatted and set his hands on the table. “Doctor, if this is a virus that’s causing the women to experience these episodes, how does that explain the similarities in their dreams and these possession states? Both Dalathine and Setora have mentioned a man named Julian, someone who talks through them.”

  Exactly. How would the great doctor explain Julian?