Soul Bond

by Christine Price

  Some bonds can’t be broken by time. Or space. Or death.

  When Captain Julian Gaspar captures an enemy spacecraft, he takes aboard a sapphire-eyed stranger who captures his heart. The powerful attraction that draws Julian to the mysterious Ellis is instant, undeniable, and throws Julian’s well-ordered life into chaos.

  The heat they generate burns as brightly and naturally as the stars—until Ellis is stolen away by a merciless pirate who trades in lives. In a heartbeat, Ellis is gone, leaving Julian broken and haunted by his last, angry words to his lover.

  After five years of searching, Julian is finally reunited with Ellis, only to find him dying, imprisoned by a strange, ring-bound enchantment that is slowly draining his soul. Removing the ring will mean his immediate death unless Julian can find a source of powerful, ancient magic. Older than the stars. Older than time…

  Warning: Contains spaceships, explosions, spiteful aliens, not-so-spiteful aliens, sarcastic alien yentas, the occasional naughty word and plenty of steamy man sex.

  eBooks are not transferable.

  They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

  577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520

  Macon GA 31201

  Soul Bond

  Copyright © 2010 by Christine Price

  ISBN: 978-1-60504-993-9

  Edited by Deborah Nemeth

  Cover by Kanaxa

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: April 2010

  www.samhainpublishing.com

  Soul Bond

  Christine Price

  Dedication

  For my mother, Jon and Bailey. Thank you. For everything. And O.W., my secret inspiration throughout it all.

  Prologue

  Glemisia

  Coalition Standard Date 113-226.5

  The alley outside the bar was dank for this time in the Glemisian summer season, the air heralding an early autumn. Ithivar pulled his thin jacket tighter around his shoulders. A low groan from behind him had his hand going to his blade. A cube of pressed garbage was knocked over as an approaching man tried but failed to use it to support himself and tumbled to the ground.

  Ithivar waited in tense silence for him to rise. When the man remained supine, Ithivar grinned. Looks like the night’s off to a good start.

  The nearby bar was the closest one to the port. Most of the patrons were on shore leave and spending their recent pay, hot, horny and—by this time of the evening—completely drunk. Glemisia was home to half the galaxy’s seediest elements, and Ithivar had always been right at home here. Years of mining had rendered the strong rock beneath the planet’s surface a maze of twisting tunnels and corridors that were next to impossible to navigate. Murderers, slavers, blackmailers and pirates crawled across every inch of the world, and the Coalition of United Planets had long ago given up hope of routing the worst of its inhabitants.

  Ithivar moved to the man’s side and knelt down, his hands immediately moving to the prone figure’s waist. Pick-pocketing was not particularly glorious, but it kept food on the table on a planet notorious for its starving poor. A quick search of the man’s unfortunately empty pockets drew his lips into a sneer. Damn.

  As the clouds passed from across Glemisia’s third moon, he saw a bright flash from the man’s hand. Uplifting it to get a closer look, he studied the large ring wrapped around the index finger. His brow drew together in surprise. A Zzesstari soul ring. This man was a corpse-feeler’s property and was keeping an alien alive at the expense of his own life. Not a particularly glorious death. Not one that obviously paid either. He dropped the hand, leaving the ring untouched. The trouble wasn’t worth the money. He lifted the man’s chin to check for other jewelry.

  He paused.

  “Well, then.” He produced a small hand torch from his pocket and cloaked the alley in a too-bright white light. “Huh.”

  He had seen this face before. Although the human’s sharp cheekbones and slightly pale features were yellowed by sickness, Ithivar could easily imagine the alabaster shade staring back at him from an old bounty poster. He roughly pushed an eye open. The striking blue confirmed his suspicions. The captain of the Maligned Kestrel had posted a bounty on this man. Surely he was still worth a few eiroes.

  Ithivar grabbed him under the shoulders and hoisted him up. Captain Gaspar was an honorable sort. It wouldn’t hurt to get on his good side.

  Ithivar made his way towards the spaceport where the Kestrel was docked, no one sparing him a second glance despite the limp form slung over his shoulder. He kept mostly to the side streets, to avoid whichever Zzesstari held the man’s leash, and wracked his brain for the name of the man he held. Erris, Eros, Alice, Ellis…Ellis, yes. It was Ellis. And Ellis had done something rotten and pissed off Captain Gaspar, prompting an incredibly generous bounty. Strictly alive, with an unvoiced threat of dire consequences should anyone try to turn in the body. For the reward involved, it tempted even the hardest bounty hunters to change their tactics.

  The Kestrel was docked alongside several other commercial vessels. Though the Kestrel had served in the fleet during the war with the Frenze, Captain Gaspar had retired the ship from federal service and moved into a less-regulated sector, and—from what was bandied about in bars and dives across the galaxy—it had not been an amicable parting. Years of dwelling outside the rigid structure of the Coalition fleet had done its work on the rig, and it looked more like a smuggler’s vessel than anything that had ever been distinguished enough to serve the Coalition.

  Ithivar moved quickly up the covered gangway that led to the loading bay and his charge groaned in protest. He ignored the pathetic sound and hit the intercom on the side of the ship.

  “What?” a surly voice growled out a second later.

  “I have a package for Captain Gaspar.”

  An audible snort came through the intercom. “A package? What sort of package?”

  “A breathing one.” Ithivar chuckled. “For now.”

  After a long pause, the groaning sound of moving metal forced him back as the gangplank began to lower. Amidst a cloud of condensed air, a squat figure stepped off the ship. Through the fog, Ithivar made out slightly crumpled features and a nose ridged with large cartilage deposits. The bat-like features marked him as Cembrian, a race not known for gentle mannerisms. The sound of his thick talons on the gangplank sent shivers up Ithivar’s spine.

  “Do I know you?” His words came out as a broken mix of Coalition Common and whatever language they spoke with their noses on Cembri.

  Ithivar shook his head and tried to remember what he knew about the Kestrel’s crew. The Cembrian must be Chief Engineer Barth Erinyes. According to reputation, he rarely bit.

  “No.” Ithivar dropped Ellis’s half-dead body gracelessly to the ground. It didn’t merit a second glance from the Cembrian. Not even a flicker of emotion passed across his twisted face. “I’ve come to claim the bounty on this one, if it’s available.”

  Barth snorted. “We posted that years ago.” He poked Ellis’s side with his tertiary claw. “Did you work him over?” Despite the deceptive calm of his face, something in his words made Ithivar suddenly nervous.

  “No. I found him like this.” Ithivar offered
a smile. “If you don’t want him, I could try and locate his corpse-feeler.”

  For a brief moment, something ugly flashed in the Cembrian’s eyes and Ithivar fought to keep a sudden surge of panic from showing on his face.

  “No need. The bounty is as good as ever it was.” Barth waved Ithivar forward. “Carry him inside, won’t you?”

  Ithivar smiled. “I think I’ll take my eiroes now, thanks.”

  “Very well.” The Cembrian pulled a palm-sized communicator from his pocket. “Medic to the gangway. We have a package for the captain.” He waited for the acknowledgement, then tucked it away and held out a hand. Ithivar swallowed nervously at the sight of the thick black talons adorning his short fingers. “Let’s have your datapad, then. And we’ll settle up.”

  Reluctantly, Ithivar held out his ’pad. Without sparing a second glance for the crack in the screen, Barth pulled up Ithivar’s accounting information and, a few terse moments later, he handed it back. “There. Off with you.”

  Ithivar gaped at the number gracing the screen, double the already substantial amount from the bounty poster.

  Before he could take another breath, thick claws had wrapped themselves in his jacket and pulled him flush against the Cembrian’s space. The rank smell of bog water filled his senses. “You understand that we were generous with our interest?”

  Ithivar nodded quickly.

  “You understand that we’re paying premium for your silence?”

  He nodded again.

  “If we ever so much as see your face at the same spaceport next time we dock, your body will be jettisoned so far out of Coalition space that you’ll fall off the edge of the universe.”

  Released, Ithivar stumbled backwards, barely able to keep a hand on his datapad. Once safely out of the Cembrian’s range, he took a last look at the alien’s hard features. For just a moment, before the joiner of the tunnel slammed shut behind him, he saw the Cembrian kneeling beside Ellis’s prone form. Those same features had pulled in worry and a single finger was brushing the limp tendrils of hair away from the human’s face.

  Chapter One

  Glemisia

  Coalition Standard Date 113-226.6

  “…as you can see, the Maligned Kestrel’s recently redesigned weapons array does offer us a unique and incomparable method of protecting whatever cargo we might be required to carry…”

  Julian paused at the buzz of the communicator in his pocket, just managing to withhold a curse at the abysmal timing. He’d been trying to win over the Zar Tef merchant family for years. If he insulted them by responding to the hail, the Kestrel would lose their business forever.

  It buzzed again. This time, the curse slipped out. The matron of the family regarded him with a mix of shock and horror—the aliens’ reputation for being easily offended was obviously justified—and covered the sound receptacles of her youngest spawn.

  “Pardon me. Apparently, my crew is in need of…guidance.” The excuse fell on deaf ears. Resigning himself to losing what could have been an extremely lucrative deal, Julian retrieved the small holoprojector and moved away from the small congregation of would-be clients. He pulled his communicator from his pocket, took a steadying breath to prevent himself from tearing into whichever member of his crew had inadvertently screwed them out of the deal, and answered the hail. “Gaspar here.”

  “We need you back here. Now.”

  He was accustomed to Barth’s gruff mannerisms, but this particular brand of anxious demand rarely reared its head.

  “End the meeting.”

  Near panic gripped his chest. He returned his attention to the Zar Tef. “I’m sorry, but we’ll need to postpone further negotiations for a later time.”

  From the matron’s expression, he doubted he’d ever be invited back. The Zar Tef, who resembled anthropomorphic whales, were overly scrutinous in their dealings. Considering how much will he had exerted to avoid cursing for the first hour of their meeting, he doubted their interactions would have lasted more than one contract. It was unfortunate—the proposed itinerary would have carried them through close Coalition space, and the trips would have been uneventful. He suspected that whatever had prompted Barth to call him was going to prove the opposite.

  He hastened through the traditional farewells and left them to ponder his sudden departure. He’d met the Tef in one of the few trading stations free of audio surveillance devices, but it was located a good distance from the spaceport where the Kestrel was docked. Although tempted to hail a mechanized rickshaw, he wanted to make sure he got back to his ship in one piece. The bars were emptying and he moved apace with the rest of the crowd, all headed back to where the ships were docked.

  Nearing the Kestrel, he studied his ship. As her captain for almost a decade, he knew every sound that purred out of the powerful engines and was intimately acquainted with every shift and sigh of the metal hull.

  All the signs suggested that she was ready to take off at a moment’s notice.

  The gangway was lowered only partway and Julian launched himself up onto the edge by bracing his foot against the side of the boarding tunnel. Just beyond the hull’s entrance, the cargo bay stood deserted and anxiety wound through his stomach. He hit the automatic close for the heavy hull door. The low scraping of metal on metal was loud to his ears and obviously drew some attention. The hatch separating the hold from the rest of the ship opened and his chief engineer appeared.

  “Captain.” Barth didn’t salute. They had been serving together since before Julian was named captain and had long ago passed from shipmates to friends. “Glad you’re back. She’s prepped for takeoff.”

  Julian narrowed his eyes. “So I noticed.”

  Barth looked unapologetic. “Follow me.”

  Making their way through the Kestrel’s winding corridors, Julian easily kept pace with the Cembrian, the limp in Barth’s gait more pronounced the faster he tried to move. The members of the crew they passed all eyed Julian with sympathy.

  Once in the lift that would transport them to the higher decks of the ship—and his quarters—he rounded on the alien. “Let’s have it, Barth. I feel like I’m heading towards a funeral.” Barth’s sloped forehead twitched a bit. “Who’s injured this time?” It would explain the anxious tone of his message.

  “Captain…” Barth paused. “Julian.” He took a breath, a slight wheezing sound emitting from his nose. “A dock thief approached us a little less than an hour ago to claim a bounty we had out.”

  Julian frowned. “I don’t remember any outstanding bounties.” His stomach churned. “And if that’s the case, shouldn’t we be headed towards the brig?”

  Barth’s gaze filled with grief. “No.”

  Realization hit him hard, a barbed cudgel of inspiration. He looked desperately at the side of the lift, marking their progress and cursing himself for denying Barth’s request to install a quicker system. He hit the button for his floor again. The sound of his fist hitting the plastiglass siding sounded loud, even to his ears.

  “How is he?”

  “Not good. I have our medic with him.”

  “How could he be here? We’ve scoured every planet in this entire damn system. Glemisia itself is home to a third of the galaxy’s blackmailers. He couldn’t have been hidden here!”

  “We don’t have the answers, Captain.” The force of Julian’s anger slid off Barth like water from a smooth surface. He was one of very few who were able to remain composed when Julian reached the end of the leash on his temper.

  “He’s been unforthcoming?”

  Barth didn’t answer.

  The lift ground to a slow halt. Barth followed him off and down the corridor towards his personal rooms.

  “If we’re readying the Kestrel for liftoff shouldn’t you be down in the engine room?”

  “Shouldn’t you be on the bridge?” Barth countered. “I’ve given the bridge crew orders to take us to the borders of Coalition space. If Ezvorkian comes for him, we’ll be able to settle the score.”<
br />
  Julian nodded numbly. Barth broke away from Julian’s side and headed back to the lift, leaving him alone in the hallway. Reaching the doors to his quarters, he swallowed back the anxiety in his throat and opened the doors.

  A pale, sickly figure was resting unconscious atop his sheets. The female medic seated next to the bed barely looked up as he entered. He made no move to come any closer.

  “He’s not dead yet.” Her clinical tones won her no favors and Julian drew his lips in a grim line.

  He needed no further prompting. He moved quickly to the bedside and knelt beside Ellis’s prone form, careful not to jostle the patch pressed against the inside of his elbow. It was hard to reconcile the ill man on the bed with his memories of Ellis’s vibrant personality.

  He gritted his teeth. “What did they do to him?”

  “He’s wearing a Zzesstari soul ring.”

  What the corpse-feelers used to prolong their wretched lifetimes—one life in exchange for another. His heart seized and nausea slid through his stomach. They had to be worn willingly.

  The medic let loose a long breath. “I give him a week. Less. And before you ask, we can’t remove it without killing him. I’ve read as much as is available on the subject. It’s not a lot.”

  He had asked himself the price Ellis had paid. Now he knew. He choked on the welling of emotion in his throat. He wanted to look away from the prone body on the bed and cursed himself for considering even that small betrayal.

  The gentle rumble of the floor indicated that they were taking off.

  “Chief Engineer Barth thought it best to bring him here instead of the medical bay.” Julian didn’t respond and the medic sighed. “The best we can do is make sure he’s comfortable, Captain.”

  “I can’t accept that,” Julian snapped.

  “I know.”

  Hesitantly, Julian reached out and took Ellis’s hand. It was frigid and the skin was waxy beneath his fingertips, but this bare contact was frighteningly real and he withheld a choked sob. He almost let go until the ring adorning Ellis’s finger drew his attention. How could he shy away from this contact when Ellis had paid so much? He tightened his grip and Ellis’s brow twitched in his fitful illness. A low gasp escaped Ellis’s mouth, and the sweat lining his forehead ran in thin rivulets across his skin. Julian touched the pale cheek.