The Vilka's Servant: Scifi Alien Romance (Shifters of Kladuu Book 1)

by Pearl Foxx

  “The servant tunnels are adequately lit at all hours,” Decallian answered without slowing. And without really answering the question, Vera thought.

  They reached a pond fed by two waterfalls, which, if Vera’s internal directional sense was accurate, were fed by the river she’d seen yesterday on her walk to Rayner’s. The air was more humid here, and steam rolled over the water’s surface. Servants lined the pond’s stony banks with their arms elbow-deep in sudsy laundry. Several paused to stare with hostile expressions at Vera and her escort. “This is where you will wash your benefactor’s linens.” Decallian pointed to the waterfalls. “That side is hot, and that one is cold. There is a drying area over there.”

  Barely pausing for Vera to look around, the keeper continued walking. Between keeping up with Decallian and the humidity, Vera was beginning to understand why many of the servants might prefer the more revealing clothing. Already, sweat coated her exposed skin.

  Down another set of tunnels, the scent of food intensified until they entered a huge kitchen. What seemed like miles of countertops were covered in varying stages of food preparation, from skinned carcasses of unidentifiable beasts waiting to be carved into steaks, to surfaces overflowing with chopped green vegetation. Decallian wove through the swarming workers and paused at an oven built into one wall. The flushed young man working there had just removed several steaming loaves of bread.

  “Your benefactor prefers the darker bread, without seeds, for his table.” Decallian pointed to a round loaf with a crisscrossed pattern on top. “At the next hearth, we have …” She stretched to look into one of the pots sitting on the hot surface. “Stewed pryll meat today. You will need to clarify with him his preference for fruta and nuts on a daily basis.”

  Vera picked up a loaf of bread, raising it to her nose for a deep sniff. The unfamiliar grains had a bitter note, a little bit like coffee, combined with the familiar sour hint of yeast. Saliva filled her mouth. Rayner had sent for a basket of food last night, which she and Niva had devoured, but she was still hungry.

  Before she could tear off a chunk, Decallian took the loaf from her and set it back on the cooling rack. “You are only to eat the portions your benefactor provides after his meal is over, and you are never, ever to eat in his presence. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes,” Vera said, feeling the bread maker’s eyes on her. Sweat ran in rivulets between her breasts, and he tracked each drop with lip-licking focus.

  Decallian continued onward, showing Vera the cellars where the ale and mead were kept, the larders where Vera was to turn in any game Rayner brought back from his hunts, and the mechanical rooms where she could seek assistance should any of the household amenities need maintenance. Everywhere they went, Vera felt the unfriendly eyes of other servants following her, along with the male servants’ unabashed stares. Were they really that prejudiced against a human when they all looked just as human as she did?

  By the time they were finished, Vera was completely lost, and her bare feet ached from what felt like miles of walking through the stone corridors deep within the vast mountain.

  They ended at the pond again, and Decallian said, “Your benefactor is working, so you can make yourself useful at the laundry.”

  She deposited Vera at the bank near a stack of dirty linens that was almost as tall as Vera. “I have to do all of this?” Vera asked in shock.

  “You’ll have some help,” the keeper said.

  Just then, from across the pond, a young female voice called, “Vera!”

  She looked up to see Rebeka, the strawberry blonde from the ship, along with the group of human women being led by another alien servant. The women all wore scraps like Vera, their bodies on display for all to see. She noticed the women got as many hateful looks as she had.

  A hand gripped Vera’s forearm. She glanced back to find Decallian step closer to her. In a quiet voice, she said, “If you’re thinking about escaping, don’t. It’s not worth it.”

  Vera’s eyes stretched wide at the warning. “What will happen?”

  “Exile.”

  “Really?” Her heart quickened with hope. Exile sounded perfect.

  As the women rounded the edge of the pond, Decallian added, “It’s not what you think. Maybe you could make it somewhere safe before the Draqons or Katu found you, but those women”—Decallian nodded toward the approaching women—“would be dead in a day. Whether you want to admit it or not, Clan Vilka is the safest place for a group of pretty human women. You need to get that in your head before you get them killed.”

  With that, the keeper straightened her tunic and waddled away. Vera watched her go, her mind tumbling over the woman’s words. She almost fell over when someone pulled her into a tight bear hug.

  “You’re alive!” Rebeka said against Vera’s ear, squeezing her tighter. “I’ve been so worried about you and Niva! Do you know what happened to her?”

  “Niva’s okay. She was found in time.”

  “Oh, thank goodness.” Rebeka released Vera and stepped back. Vera nodded at the other women, who all looked exhausted and terrified. Some looked like they hadn’t stopped crying, while others looked hollowed out, gutted, and empty.

  “Let’s sit here and talk some,” Vera whispered. She nodded at the laundry. The other women shuffled around to take a seat at the pond’s edge beside Vera and Rebeka. They took up a linen each and set to work. “How are you?” Vera asked, her hands prickling as she submerged them in the hot water. “Are you being treated well?”

  “They put me in a dorm near the hydroponics and had me hand-squashing caterpillars as if they don’t know about pesticides or something.”

  Vera scrubbed at a stain as the other women spoke of their assignments. She listened intently, but thankfully, no one had any horror stories like Niva’s to tell. They all seemed to be taken care of, at least on the basic necessities level. None had been beaten or abused, and they’d all been fed. Vera let out a little sigh of relief.

  “We need to make a plan to get out of here,” Rebeka hissed. The other women nodded in agreement. “This place is barbaric! We shouldn’t have to wear clothes like this. Have you seen the way the other servants look at us? They hate humans. It’s only a matter of time before something horrible happens.”

  “Okay, calm down. We have—”

  “How can I possibly calm down? Look at us!” Rebeka gestured to the group’s skimpy clothing, her voice rising and attracting the attention of nearby servants. “Isma has a daughter back home! We all have families who are probably worried sick. We have to leave. Now!”

  “Slow down.” Vera sat aside the stain-free linen and picked up another. “And keep your voice down. I know you’re scared, but we’re safe for now. Rayner says—”

  “Who’s Rayner?”

  “He’s the man I work for.”

  “More like the monster you work for. Nothing about these creatures is human.” Rebeka frowned, deep furrows forming between her light-colored brows. “Wait, do you mean the Beta? I’ve heard his name before.”

  “He’s treated me fairly, and he rescued Niva. I think if I can talk to him some more, I might convince him to help us leave.”

  Rebeka’s eyes flared with hope. The other women stirred behind her, casting glances at each other. “You think he really will?”

  Vera nodded, hoping she was right about him. “He’s kind and genuinely regrets what happened to us. But we have to be careful with our actions here. If they think we’re trying to escape, they might exile us.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad. We get out of the mountain, and we find some way to get a message back home.”

  “I don’t think it would be that easy,” Vera said, remembering Decallian’s warning. The older woman didn’t seem inclined to hand out words of wisdom very often. “I’m trying to collect information on this planet, but it seems there are really awful clans out there who will treat us far worse than the Vilkas if we’re caught. We need to use the exile escape plan as a last re
sort.”

  “Okay. So what now?”

  “Keep our heads down,” Vera said. She met all the women’s eyes until they nodded. “Don’t do anything rash. We need to stick together and try to find out as much information about this place and the outside as possible.”

  “Good.” Rebeka splashed her hands into the water, angrily scrubbing at the cloth. “We get a plan together, and then we get the hell off this freaking planet.”

  At the end of the day, Vera left the women and a clean pile of laundry to report back to the kitchens, where she assembled a meal basket to take back to Rayner’s house.

  The bread maker from earlier handed her a loaf of the dark bread to put in her basket. When he didn’t release it, Vera looked up at him, cocking a brow. “Problem?” she asked.

  “Why don’t you come back here after dinner and we get to know each other?” The young man grinned at her, his beard patchy with youth, his hands covered in flour as he swiped at his running nose.

  Vera jerked the bread from his grip. “Why don’t you get to know your hand better instead?”

  She stalked off as the man’s face burned red with anger. It probably wasn’t the best idea to piss off her fellow servants, but after the long day, she really didn’t care.

  Letting out an exhausted sigh, she snuck a sliver of dry meat from the basket to nibble on during her way back. Refusing to meet any of the judgmental gazes of her fellow servants, she marched back toward the central corridor, only getting turned around once.

  As she rounded a corner, she bumped into a child carrying a basket of clothes as tall as he was. The basket went flying, and pristine white fabric fluttered to the rough stone floor.

  “Oh, excuse me!” Vera bent to help pick up the clothes.

  The little boy scurried to gather the items as well, tiny whimpers echoing at the back of his throat.

  “It’ll be all right,” Vera soothed, shaking out a shirt and folding it as neatly as it had been.

  “There can’t be a smudge of dirt.” The little boy spread a section of cloth, examined it closely, and promptly burst into tears.

  Vera looked closer, spying a barely noticeable gray smudge marring the cloth. Nothing a child should be forced to worry over. This close to the boy, she noted his narrow features were more gaunt than they were slender, and a line of yellowing bruises in the shape of someone’s fingers dotted his forearm. She went to touch the bruises, but the boy flinched away. “Did your mas—your benefactor do this to you?”

  “If she finds any stains, she takes it out of my wages.” The child sniffled.

  Vera lifted the basket, holding it against one hip, and took the boy’s small hand with her free one. “I’m the one who made the mess, so let me help you clean it up.”

  Only two articles of clothing had even the smallest speck of dirt, and she helped him spot clean them back at the laundry, showing him how to blot the area using another clean cloth she’d begged off a nearby woman. The woman watched Vera closely, but said nothing. At least she wasn’t scowling, which Vera saw as an improvement of sorts.

  When she’d helped the boy get his laundry back in order and he’d scampered off into the tunnels, she picked Rayner’s food basket back up and retraced her path to the central corridor. It was late, and she passed few servants. They were most likely assisting during dinner in their benefactors’ homes.

  Eventually, Vera reached the top of the tunnel into Rayner’s house. Entering from behind the swath of silk, she pulled another bit of meat from the basket before setting it on the small table in the front room.

  “Niva?” she called. “I have some food for you.”

  The bedroom door was open. Vera went inside, glancing around. But Niva wasn’t in sight. “Niva?”

  Vera went to the bathroom and peeked inside. No sign.

  Her heartbeat quickened. Had Drausus returned for more? She scoured the rooms again. Then she went outside, circling the nearby alleys to no avail.

  Niva was gone.

  8

  Rayner

  Rayner returned to his quarters after a tedious afternoon of trade negotiations with Clan Arakid. Kaveh’s state of mind had been wandering today, and he’d caused more strife than necessary. Because of it, the Arakid ambassador had left with a pinched look on his pale face, his bony shoulders hunched beneath the elaborate silken cloak he wore.

  Rayner barely had time to get his front door closed before he caught a glimpse of red hair. Vera’s spicy scent threaded up his nose before she shoved him back against the door. “Where’s Niva?” she demanded, shoving him again. “What did you do with her?”

  Rayner took her wrists in one hand and eased her back. She was stronger than he’d anticipated, and he needed a second to recover from a day away from her enticing smell. If she pressed herself up against him again, even if it was only to shove him back, he might take her mouth in his.

  She stepped back, her hands on her hips. She wore a long tunic made of disturbingly familiar cloth. “What are you wearing?”

  “Never mind my clothing. Where’s Niva?” She paced in front of him, the long, white silk tunic clinging to her every move.

  His heart raced. He could see less of her flesh, but the outfit made her more appealing. The fabric gathered at her shoulders, leaving her arms bare, and hung down to just below her knees. And for some reason, she smelled … like she belonged to him. He answered, “I’ve found her an assignment in the royal’s donjon. Drausus cannot reach her there. Now tell me,” he said, reaching out to draw her to a stop. He pulled her closer, his eyes on the tunic. He traced a finger over the buttery material covering her shoulder. “Where did you come by this?”

  “She’ll really be safe?” Vera pressed, ignoring his question.

  “I vow it. Gerrit, the Alpha’s heir, will keep an eye on her.” Rayner’s eyes traveled the length of the roughly sewn seams of her tunic. “What is this?”

  “You said we had to earn our own clothing, so I improvised while I was waiting for you.”

  Now he recognized the cloth. It explained why she was covered in his scent. His voice came out in a low rumble. “What have you done to my bedsheets?”

  High-ranking clan members had cowered at the tone before, but Vera only crossed her arms beneath her breasts and scowled. “You were late, and I was worried about Niva. Besides, you have plenty of bedsheets.”

  “I told you I would provide you with new clothing as soon as I could.” Rayner wrapped one fist around the silk joined at her shoulder as if to rip it free. Sheets wide enough to cover his enormous bed cost a fortune, and she’d cut it into how many pieces? Not to mention even the Alpha’s servants didn’t wear cloth this fine, and white was reserved for mates only, or, as in the case of his bedsheets, for the act of mating. “You do not have the right to destroy property which doesn’t belong to you. You show no respect for our ways.”

  She grabbed his wrist and used her other hand to pry his fingers loose. “I didn’t feel safe in that excuse for a uniform. It might be okay for other Vilkan servants to wear it, but me and the other women draw too much attention being human. The women glared at me, and the men couldn’t stop staring at my cleavage.”

  His skin tightened. Other men had been ogling Vera. His Vera. “Take it off.”

  “I won’t.” Vera’s eyes burned with venom.

  He ground his teeth, his jaw muscles aching. She had a right to feel safe, but she also needed to learn their ways. “I promise I’ll get you something that covers you more. Something you’ll feel safe wearing. But you have to give me a chance to do it.”

  “You had all day.”

  That was true, he’d had all day, and he hadn’t even inquired about new clothing. He’d been trying to shut her from his mind by staying busy. “I give you permission to remain in the house until I can provide new clothes.”

  Something in her stance told him to be wary, like he’d crossed some territory line he hadn’t seen. She gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you, sir.”
<
br />   “That way no one can stare at you.” No one except me. He swallowed, resolving to place an order for clothing as soon as possible. For her sake and his.

  Her nostrils flared, and she turned from him toward the small table where he took his meals. “It’s your right to direct my services. Would you like something to eat, sir?”

  Her fire had turned to cold steel, and he didn’t imagine that boded well. But then he’d never noticed a female’s reactions so much before. He cleared his throat and answered, “Yes, thank you.”

  Moving to the small table, he sat and watched as she poured water for him to drink. When he reached for his glass, his fingers brushed hers. She jerked her hand away. She set a platter in front of him filled with dark bread, fruta, and pryll. His stomach growled.

  Then he realized what must be wrong. She was hungry. She’d been with Decallian all day, and he’d never given her authorization to eat. He wasn’t used to having a servant attending to him. His gut twisted with guilt. She had to be starving. He gestured to the chair across from him. “Would you like to sit?”

  She stared at the floor, her shoulders stiff. “No, thank you, sir.”

  “You must be hungry.”

  “Decallian instructed that I’m not to eat in your presence, sir.”

  “Stop calling me that.” He stood up, towering over her. He could handle her disobedience, her sass, her attitude. What he couldn’t handle was this cold distance.

  “Calling you what, sir?”

  “Is this a game?” Rayner willed her to look up at him. To meet him head-on like she had moments ago. Now, she was playing the part of servant all too well, and he loathed it.

  “I’m just following the rules I was given about my place as your servant.”

  Reaching out, he grabbed her chin and looked into eyes shining with anger and resentment. The fire was there, but dampened, smothered. Her full lips quivered slightly, and she clamped them into a tight line before dropping her gaze to his chest. She wasn’t broken, then. Just hurt. “I’m not a bad man, Vera.”