Enslaved

by Evangeline Anderson

  Not that she’d want to be bonded to me—not now that she knows my past. They’d never really gotten to discuss what she’d learned about his first time as a slave back on Yonnie Six but Thrace thought they didn’t really need to. It was clear from her actions that she wanted to distance herself from him and while some of that was probably due to the awful things that had happened to her in the temple, he was certain that his own terrible past played a part in it too.

  Sylvan frowned. “That could be a problem if the bond was completely destroyed. But if it’s only blocked, the compound can still be effective simply by removing the block.”

  “You think I haven’t tried? You think I haven’t been reaching out to her, here on the ship?” Thrace demanded. “I don’t even think she feels me. I’m telling you, Commander, she wants nothing to do with our bond. In fact…” He took a deep breath. “In fact, I’ve decided to leave here. My own ship, The Empress, is still in dry dock on Padge and my first mate, Solar is missing. We were drugged and taken to the Flesh Bazaar to be sold as slaves at the same time. If I can’t help Trin, I might as well go and help him. If he’s even still alive.”

  “Your duty to your friend and shipmate is admirable,” Sylvan said seriously. “But your duty to the female you are bonded to must take precedence.”

  “And it would, if she still wanted me.” Thrace let his fingers wander up to touch the black collar he still wore. Then, with quick, decisive motions, he took it off and laid it on the chair beside him. “If she would let me in. But she won’t, so I have to go.” He looked down at the collar. “Knowing she’s just down the hallway but being unable to talk to her or see her or hold her…it’s too fucking painful.”

  “I understand,” Sylvan said quietly. “The pain of a rejected bond is excruciating.”

  “Which is why I have to go.” Thrace turned away. “In fact, you caught me in the middle of packing—not that I have much to pack. I was hoping I could borrow a shuttle—just until I get The Empress out of drydock. I—”

  “Hello, Thrace.”

  The soft, familiar voice startled him. He turned to see Trin standing in the doorway, a look of uncertainty on her face. She was wearing a white, sleeveless gown that showed the long, angry red welts which marred her creamy brown skin. Her eyes were huge and hurt-looking as they flicked first from his bare throat and then to the discarded black leather collar which lay on the arm of the chair beside him.

  “Trin?” He took a step towards her but she shook her head and stepped back.

  “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “Your door was open so I thought…but if you’re leaving now, I won’t bother you. Don’t…don’t let me stop you.”

  She turned but Thrace wasn’t about to let her go. In one stride he was across the room, taking her by the arm.

  Trin winced and made a little sound of pain as his hand made contact with the welts on her skin.

  “Sorry, I’m sorry!” Thrace dropped her arm hurriedly. “I just…didn’t want you to go.”

  “Why not?” She turned to face him again. “You are.”

  “I have to find my first mate, Solar. He was sold as a slave too,” Thrace reminded her. “And besides, you didn’t want to see me—didn’t want anything to do with me.” He tried not to let the hurt and frustration creep into his voice but it was hard. “Why are you even here?” he asked bluntly.

  Trin bit her bottom lip. “To…to be healed,” she whispered. I was told that I needed to seek help and Commander Sylvan said he had something that might heal these…” She gestured to her welted skin. “But that you were the only one who could give it to me.”

  “Indeed, and Yipper and I just came to drop it off.” Sylvan, who had been standing quietly to one side, nodded at the little vial of blue liquid Thrace still clutched tight in his hand. “In fact, I think we ought to leave you alone now.”

  “The compound is best applied in private. Yes it is, yes it is.” Yipper nodded vigorously.

  “Good luck.” Sylvan put a hand on Thrace’s shoulder and squeezed briefly. “Come and see me after…one way or the other.”

  “Thank you.” Thrace nodded and looked at the vial in his hand uncertainly.

  “It becomes effective the moment you take it. Yes it does, yes it does,” Yipper told him and then he and the Kindred commander left, shutting the front door of Thrace’s guest suite quietly behind them.

  Thrace sighed and looked down at the vial.

  “Well, here goes.” He unscrewed the lid and put the vial to his lips, downing its contents in three quick swallows.

  * * * * *

  Trin stared at him blankly.

  “What are you doing?” She shook her head. “Why did you drink the medicine that was supposed to be for me?”

  “Why did I…oh Gods…You mean Commander Sylvan didn’t tell you?”

  “Tell me what? What are you talking about?” Trin asked, frowning. “He just told me to meet him at your suite.”

  “Gods…” Thrace went to the couch and sank down on it, putting his head in his hands.

  “Thrace?” Trin went to him. Her hand hovered over his head but she didn’t quite dare to touch him, though she longed to bury her fingers in his thick, wild hair. “Did I ask the wrong question? What was Commander Sylvan supposed to tell me?”

  “That the medicine he gave me wasn’t for you to drink. Or to rub on your wounds.”

  “But then…how was it supposed to help me?” Trin shook her head, not understanding.

  Thrace looked up at her, his silver-blue eyes blazing.

  “It was for me to drink. It enables my body to make a healing compound I can apply to your cuts and abrasions.”

  “Apply…how?” Trin was beginning to feel uncertain all over again.

  “By licking you,” he said softly. “By bathing your hurt areas with my tongue. Apparently it’s the only way the medicine is effective.”

  “I…I didn’t know that.” Trin edged away from him. “No one told me that.”

  “Because I’m sure you wouldn’t have come if they had.” Thrace’s deep voice was hurt and bitter. “I know how you feel about letting me touch you intimately. Letting me taste you intimately—especially now that you know my past. I understand how wrong it makes you feel so I won’t even ask. I’ll just go.”

  He turned away, presumably to get back to his packing. But something inside Trin couldn’t let that happen. She couldn’t bear to watch him walk away—couldn’t let him leave not knowing when or if she would ever see him again.

  “Thrace, wait.” Hesitantly, she reached for him and let her fingertips drift lightly over the back of his arm.

  A visible shiver ran through him at her light touch. Turning, he faced her once more, a look of pain etched on his strong features.

  “What is it, Trin?”

  Trin bit her lip. Not “Mistress,” not “baby” just Trin. Was that all she was to him now? Had she pushed him away for too long? Would she ever be able to get him back?

  “I…” She didn’t know what to say but she couldn’t remain silent. If she did, she would lose him forever.

  “Yes?” Thrace asked impatiently. “What is it you want?”

  “I want you to try it.” Trin lifted her chin. “I’m not afraid. Well…not much,” she added honestly.

  Thrace sighed and went back to the couch. “I don’t even know if it will work. It’s supposed to be for bonded couples and you and I…I don’t even know if we’re bonded anymore.”

  Trin looked down at her hands.

  “I know I’ve been blocking you,” she whispered. “I started it for your own good—because I didn’t want to hurt you or drag you down with me. And now…now I can’t seem to stop.”

  “Well…” He sighed again. “I guess you can’t help it—I don’t blame you after what you found out about me on Yonnie Six. Not to mention everything you went through in that fucking temple. Come here.” He gestured for her and Trin came to stand between his thighs.

  She could feel the h
eat of his big body and the warm scent of his skin seemed to envelope her. He was wearing black leather trousers and a deep red long sleeved shirt which looked like the uniforms the Kindred wore. For a moment she was tempted to unfasten the buttons that held it closed and caress the strong chest she knew lay beneath…But she held back. Would her touch be welcomed? Or was Thrace still too angry with her to want anything to do with her?

  “So you want to be healed?” he asked, taking her hand in his.

  “I…I’d like you to try. If you don’t mind.” Trin could barely look him in the eye.

  “I don’t mind.” His deep voice came out sounding rough.

  “It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Trin said quickly. “I mean, if you don’t want it to. You can…can still leave after if you want, of course. I wouldn’t presume to keep you.”

  “You wouldn’t, huh?” He looked up at her, his pale eyes narrowed.

  “No, of course not. After all…I have no hold on you anymore.” Trin let her fingers drift lightly to his throat, where the collar had been for so long. “I’m not your Mistress anymore. I’m nothing to you.”

  “Oh, Trin…” He closed his eyes briefly and for a moment she almost thought she felt something through their blocked bond. Some deep current of emotion she couldn’t name. Then it was gone and when he looked up at her, his eyes were hard. “Fine,” he said flatly. “I’ll do my best to heal you and then I’ll be on my way.”

  “All right.” She lifted her chin. “If that’s the way you want it.”

  “That’s the way you want it.”

  Before she could answer, he seized her hand in his and bent down as though he meant to kiss the back of it. Instead he licked it—dragging his tongue in a long, slow caress up her wounded arm, bathing the welts made by the hrakka in a single stroke.

  “Oh!” Trin gasped. But it wasn’t just his gesture that surprised her—it was the cool tingling which immediately followed it—like a hundred tiny bubbles popping at the same time on her wounded skin.

  Thrace stopped at once and released her.

  “I’m sorry—did I hurt you?”

  “No—it didn’t hurt, exactly.” Trin examined her arm. “It was more like a tingling sensation.”

  “Did it work?” Thrace was staring at her arm too. As they watched, the long, red welts made by the cruel instrument of torture slowly began to heal. Trin gasped as she saw the red turn to white. After a moment the only thing left to show where the hrakka had marked her were four parallel scars, thin but visible white lines running up the smooth brown of her arm.

  She looked up at Thrace.

  “You healed me!”

  “Not completely.” He frowned at the scars. “Let me try again.”

  But though he licked her arm several more times, the scars didn’t fade.

  At last, Trin drew back.

  “I know the scars are ugly,” she said quietly. “But…well, at least it doesn’t hurt anymore. That’s wonderful.”

  Thrace shook his head. “I just wish I could do more.”

  “You can,” Trin said softly. “You can heal the rest of me…if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course, I don’t mind. But…” He hesitated, frowning again.

  “But what?” Trin asked softly.

  “Well, those marks…they’re all over your body.” He gestured at the white shift dress which covered everything but her arms and her feet. “I mean, if I remember right, they’re everywhere. Are you going to be all right with me licking you every place you need to be healed?”

  Trin bit her lip.

  It’s wrong…letting a male do that to you, it’s wrong and you know it. The ugly, judgmental voice—a voice that sounded very like the high priestess’s—was whispering in her ear, making it hard to think, hard to be brave. But then she remembered the light in Nadiah’s true green eyes when the Goddess spoke through her and lifted the blood curse. Take a deep breath, Trin gathered her courage.

  “I want you to do it,” she said firmly. “I want to be healed.”

  “All right.” Thrace rose from the couch and held out a hand to her. “Let’s heal you, then.”

  Biting her lip, Trin put her hand in his and let him lead her into the sleeping chamber.

  * * * * *

  Thrace couldn’t believe she was going to allow him to do this—that she was willingly going to let him lick every inch of her sweet body. After what she’d learned about how his old Master had treated him on Yonnie Six, he’d been afraid she would never want him to touch or taste her again.

  Don’t get too excited, he told himself sternly. After all, it’s not like she’s here asking to renew our bond. She just doesn’t want to live the rest of her life in fucking agony—that’s all. After this is over, you’ll part for good and you know it. Didn’t she say you were nothing to each other? So don’t read anything into it and don’t try to make it last. Just do what has to be done and let her go.

  Let her go forever.

  But despite the warnings he tried to give himself, he couldn’t help the wave of love and devotion that washed over him when she lifted the white dress over her head and let it fall to the floor. She was so beautiful, so perfect even with the angry, red welts marking her skin. He wanted nothing more than to lavish her with kisses, to worship her body with his tongue, to heal her and make her whole…at least on the outside, which seemed to be all he could manage.

  “Where…where do you want me?” Trin asked softly, lifting her chin. Thrace recognized the tremor in her voice and the steel in her eyes—she was trying to be brave. Trying to let him do this without losing her nerve.

  “Sitting on the edge of the sleeping platform to start with,” he said gently. “We’ll go slow…as slow as you want.”

  “All right.” She settled on the sleeping platform, making a soft noise of pain as the dark blue coverlet rubbed against the welts on her backside. Thrace made a mental note to attend to them soon but he wanted to start someplace safer first—someplace that wouldn’t make her feel threatened or uncomfortable.

  Kneeling before her, he took her other arm, the one he hadn’t treated yet, and looked into her eyes.

  “May I?”

  “Please,” Trin breathed. “Yes, please do.”

  Keeping his eyes locked with hers, Thrace licked her second arm as he had the first, dragging the flat of his tongue up and over her skin, erasing the red welts that marked her.

  As before she stiffened and gasped but when he raised his eyebrows at her—a silent question—she shook her head.

  “It doesn’t hurt. It just…tingles.”

  Thrace nodded as he finished with her arm. Gods, her skin tasted sweet—salty and fresh and completely delicious. Completely Trin. He knew that even if he was destined never to see her again, her taste and the soft little gasps that came from her throat as he healed her would stay in his memory forever.

  At last he leaned back and looked at her.

  “Legs next?”

  Trin twisted her fingers together in her lap nervously.

  “…all right.”

  He could hear the hesitation in her voice. No doubt all the horrible rhetoric which had been pounded into her head while she was a prisoner at the temple was still there, poisoning her thoughts and emotions. But she was trying her best to overcome it—trying to let him help her without feeling guilty or wrong.

  “How about everything but your inner thighs?” he asked and saw the relief flit across her face.

  “Yes.” She smiled gratefully. “Yes that would be…that would be good.”

  Thrace nodded and encircled one delicate ankle with his fingers. Gods, whoever had done this to her had been really thorough. The red welts ran in unbroken parallel lines from the graceful curve of her arch all the way up her thighs. Probably that bitch of a high priestess! He felt a rush of rage and wished for a moment that he could hurt the evil female the same way she’d hurt Trin—that he could make her pay for the wrong she’d inflicted. But there was no time for ange
r now—it wouldn’t help Trin for him to get worked up. All he could do was try to help her.

  Taking a deep breath, Thrace pushed the useless anger aside and tried to concentrate on Trin. He lifted her lower leg to his mouth and began to lick…began to heal the female he loved so desperately as best he could.

  Trin gasped and then sighed as he made his way slowly and methodically up her leg. He could feel her trembling beneath his tongue as he sealed the welts, turning them into nothing but scars.

  Thrace only wished he could do more. She was beautiful to him—always beautiful—but the scars marred her soft brown skin, making a permanent reminder of what she had endured on her home planet. He wished he could erase them for that reason if no other—he didn’t want her to look down at herself and remember what had been done to her every time she saw her arms or legs…

  And speaking of her legs, he was finished with them now. All but the area around her inner thighs which he had carefully avoided. He sat back and looked up at her, considering what to do next.

  Trin looked back at him and the red scratches on her face, four parallel lines on each cheek, caught his eye.

  “My lady,” he murmured, falling into the old way of speech by force of habit. He rose slowly, so as not to startle her, and sat beside her on the bed. Very gently, he brushed just the tips of his fingers over her wounded flesh. “Your face…”

  “Oh…” Trin put a hand to her hurt cheek and nodded. “Yes, she…she scratched me everywhere. She said she wanted…wanted to leave permanent scars—so everyone would know what I had done.”

  “Baby…” Thrace felt a lump in his throat he couldn’t seem to swallow. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “This is my fault—all of it.”

  “No, it’s not.” Trin looked up at him. “It’s mine—I went to the temple willingly, of my own volition. I thought I had to…thought I had to be punished.”

  Thrace wanted to ask what she thought about it now but he didn’t dare. He was afraid she would say that she still felt the same way, that anything they did together was wrong and sinful—worthy of punishment and death.