The Healer's Kiss: Book Four of the Forced To Serve Series

by Donna McDonald

  Of course, Malachi could well imagine Conor Synar thinking he could get by with debauching an emissary of the Creators. He was just grateful that he had more control over Conor’s physical form than Conor had ever had. Otherwise, he’d be taking the divine smelling, faux Ethosian to his room, and doing what he wanted with her unconscious form, no matter what his keepers thought. He stood staring at her, sighing in consternation as images of bonding with her swirled around in his head.

  “Someone get the female calling herself Seta Trax. I doubt she’ll wake up until this one does. I agree with Ania that they are linked energetically. Let’s get them to Medical and make sure they didn’t get any head bumps when they fell,” Malachi ordered. “Somebody call Chiang and let him know we’re bringing in two for treatment. Boca’s way too tired to do any bonding with him tonight anyway.”

  Ania looked at Malachi, not fooled at all by his feigned nonchalance, or his attempts to redirect everyone’s concern from the Trax siblings to Chiang and Boca. The demon had not been bested by anyone with more power than him since his conversion. It didn’t surprise Ania that Malachi would be drawn to the deceitful Ethosian, if only out of curiosity. Of course, if the emissary of the Creators had been a male, Malachi might have killed the creature’s host body before she or Liam could have stopped him from doing so.

  “Malachi? Don’t you want us to call for a transport? Medical is a fair distance from here,” Ania warned, sending a grin in his direction and getting a wicked look in return. Since Liam tuned into Malachi’s thoughts routinely now, she and Malachi were reduced to elaborate eye contact and brow lifts for private tormenting.

  “No, I’ve got her,” Malachi said as casually as he could to Ania, striding to the door.

  Enjoying the heady, female scent worn by the entity calling herself Rena Trax was obviously all he dared do, but he was going to enjoy it for as long as possible. Having already had a taste of her power, he knew to fear her. When the spiritual being chose to revive her physical form, who knew what she would do to all of them? Yet for some reason self-preservation seemed less important to him at that moment than carrying the female in his arms and indulging his fantasies. If she woke up enraged, it might be the last sensual act he got to have in his existence. Might as well make the most of the opportunity, he decided.

  “My strength has returned. Maybe I should carry her,” Ania offered, starting towards Malachi. “I’m the one who’s in the most trouble. After all, I’m the one who put her in a trance.”

  “If you must do penance, carry the other one,” Malachi ordered with a grin. “But I’m sure the effort would be less taxing on Lieutenant Zade.”

  Across the room, Malachi saw Liam still busy talking to Chiang on the conference table com link. He looked up at their joking conversation, glaring at both of them for daring to be amused.

  Go, Liam sent to him, not bothering with words. Malachi nodded at the curt command but didn’t answer since his master could plainly see what he was doing.

  Grinning back at Ania as he left carrying his nemesis, Malachi lifted Rena higher and waved his hand over the door panel to open it, running his hand caressingly over her very pleasing female rear in the process of adjusting her in his arms.

  Yes, he was probably risking being sent into oblivion if on some level of consciousness the emissary was aware of how much he enjoyed touching her physical form. Not that he could really help it. Her rounded rear was just too tempting to resist. And he had never been able to do that well, no matter which host body he had been occupying.

  ***

  The com unit on the tiny table next to the bed chimed, making Chiang growl in annoyance. And this time he heard himself.

  One of the first things the Captain had done after promoting him to Doctor was require him to keep a wrist com unit on or near him at all times. He briefly considered using his fist to silence the noisy device for good, but he didn’t want to wake Boca, who was finally sleeping peacefully on top of him. She had been in a lot of pain.

  He picked up the unit and pressed the button. “Chiang here,” he said as softly as he could.

  “We’re headed to medical with two unconscious patients. One is in a trance. We don’t know what’s wrong with the other,” Synar explained.

  “I will meet you there,” Chiang said wearily, pressing the button before putting the com unit back on the table. He ran hands over Boca again and felt her sigh against him. “Shhhh…sleep. There’s no reason for you to go this time. You need your energy to heal yourself.”

  “Regular rest is impossible on this ship. Why can’t our crew leave each other alone long enough for us to go more than three or four sleep cycles without an incident?”

  Chiang laughed at Boca’s complaining and rolled with her until her body slid down off his to the bed. “The demon—I mean—Malachi can assist me. If we need your expertise, I will call you on the wrist unit. I will not need it next door.”

  “Okay,” Boca conceded, her body hurting too much not to take advantage of his offer. “Perhaps you might bring back something for the pain to help me rest better?”

  “Of course,” Chiang replied, petting her long hair one final stroke before rising to put on his clothes.

  Chapter 7

  “One has a tiny lump from the fall, but nothing serious enough to cause the unconscious state she’s in. Why did you not contact Medic Lor? He could have brought an ice pack for her while you waited on transports,” Chiang said, walking to the second female. “What happened to the other one? I never quite got the whole story. I was practically asleep when Synar called.”

  Chiang looked at the captain, Zade, Ania Looren, and Gwen all lined up along the wall at the foot of the medical tables. They looked guilty of some wrong. Malachi was walking from table to table, adjusting covers and pillows to make sure the still comatose females were as comfortable as possible. It was strange to see the demon being solicitous without being coerced. The subdued manner of the others was setting off all kinds of intuitive warnings, putting him and his instincts in a sour mood.

  “Are you going to tell me what happened? Or should I start guessing?” Chiang demanded.

  “I put the one in the gown in a trance,” Ania admitted finally, studying the females.

  “Rena Trax,” Gwen said, offering the name.

  “Fine. Yes. The one calling herself—Rena Trax,” Ania said, repeating the name the entity was using. “We didn’t call a medic because I purposely put her in this state. She was emitting an energy signature stronger than the Azron crystals powering the ship.”

  Chiang put his hand on the mid-section of the elaborately-dressed female again. “I sense nothing. Are you certain?”

  “Aye,” Ania said. “She is cloaking it, but the energy is there.”

  Malachi looked at Chiang. “The other reason we didn’t call Medic Lor was that I was there to help. Oh, and by the way, Seta Trax, the other female, hosts a demon. Not nearly as powerful as I am, but still dangerous to the ship and its crew.”

  Malachi ignored the Chiang’s standard expulsion of frustrated breath, preferring to shock the Greggor and just get it over with.

  Chiang walked to the second one, their alleged new lieutenant, and held his hand palm-down over her mid-section as well. “Okay. I do sense something deep in the lieutenant, but no darkness. Her energy does not read like yours.”

  Malachi snorted. “Her demon is obviously not as developed or the host would still be conscious.”

  “Not necessarily,” Zade interjected. “We don’t know what they are capable of or why they are even here.”

  “Actually, I do. Rena said they had waited a long time to serve on Liam Synar’s ship,” Malachi reported. “Those are close to her exact words. She is here because of Liam.”

  All eyes turned to their captain. Synar sighed and stepped away from the wall. “I have no idea why. We can stand here guessing all night, or Ania can release her from the trance and we can find out. None of us can read them, not even you,”
he said, looking at Malachi.

  “Are you willing to take that risk, Liam? If Rena Trax chooses to harm someone, I may not be able to stop her.”

  “Well, what else do you suggest? Shoot their unconscious host bodies out escape pod tubes and forget about them?” Synar challenged. His irritated gaze swung first to Ania and then to Dorian. “You two are the spirituals experts. What’s the call here?”

  Dorian sighed. “If Malachi is correct about her power, their unconscious states may be just a ruse to give us time to come to terms with it all. It could be some kind of spiritual test for all of us.”

  Malachi shook his head. “I’m not completely disagreeing with you, Lieutenant, but Rena Trax was adamant about only two things when we spoke. One—that I not touch Seta because she said her sibling had an aversion to be touched by males. And two—that Seta never know she hosts a demon. At the very least, I would suggest the use of extreme discretion concerning the new lieutenant. We need only question Rena to find the whole answer. It is she who controls both their fates—and likely ours.”

  Synar nodded. “Agreed. We will keep the information about the demon in Lieutenant Trax confidential until we determine the nature of the threat. Ania, let’s wake up the being calling herself ‘Rena Trax’ and see what she has to say.”

  Ania walked to the female in the trance, spoke the words of release, and saw Rena immediately rise into a sitting position. She held up her hand and all froze—except Ania and Malachi. Chiang was poised over the new lieutenant, his hand just above her mid-section. Liam, Dorian and Gwen looked stunned.

  Ania lifted a brow in amazement as she looked at the female responsible. “Thinking you were an emissary of the Creators, I was going to apologize for my earlier defensive actions, but now I’m not so sure I regret rendering you unconscious.”

  Rena turned her attention to Ania and Malachi, but when she held a hand up to them both and made a fist, only Malachi fell into convulsions of pain.

  Ania merely looked down at herself and found she felt—nothing. She looked up again, feeling Malachi’s power igniting within her. It had been weeks since she’d had to contend with demon rage, but it all came flowing back in a rush.

  Approaching the bed where the emissary of the Creators sat staring at her with condescension, Ania felt her anger growing even more. She was upset about having to face the darkness inside her again, as much as at having to fight the up-to-now mythical being she had long idolized. As she prepared for battle, her most prominent repeating thought was that she was getting really tired of losing her illusions.

  “Despite any exalted purpose you serve for the Creators of All, my patience with you is now limited. You seem to have control over the others, but evidently I have control over the form you’re hiding in. Never doubt I will use that control to save those on this ship. This is going to be my only warning to you. If you wish your host body to come to no harm, release them immediately.”

  Believing the Pleiadian female’s quietly spoken words since they were backed up by the demon power lighting her angry gaze, Rena uncurled her fingers and watched as Malachi rose gagging from his efforts to breathe normally.

  It was most unexpected to feel neutrality from the demon, and yet righteous hatred from the being who was obviously his willing host. Rena knew the Creators were displeased with her, but many times she had put a restraint field around beings and always with their blessing. The field merely slowed their vibrations and took them out of their participation in time. No harm was ever done.

  Why were those actions wrong with these creatures?

  And why were the Creators supporting and harboring one of the walking dead? The Pleiadian’s immunity was another surprise she hadn’t been expecting, not to mention further chastisement from those she served. Who was this female with power over her? She had been promised no being’s power would ever be greater than hers.

  “Now release the rest,” Ania ordered, seeing Malachi quickly recovering.

  “No. Not yet,” Rena began, shaking her head, too late registering that it must have been some sort of sign the unholy female had been waiting to see. The Pleiadian had the audacity to whisper the Creators names, followed by the ancient words of restraint that even she could not control.

  Rena gasped in shock to discover that she could not move her host body’s arms or lift her hands. She made a frustrated sound that was just short of a scream. “What power lets you restrain me? Do you have any idea what I can do to you or those you care about?”

  “Seems to me the Creators don’t approve of your actions towards us anymore than I do,” Ania said with great relish, pacing around her trapped quarry. “I’m not going to ask for what I want so nicely next time.”

  “Release me, Warrior of Darkness,” Rena ordered.

  Ania crossed her arms. Warrior of Darkness? Well, it wasn’t the first name she had been called since she’d merged with Malachi. At least ‘Warrior of Darkness’ sounded respectful rolling off the angry female’s tongue.

  “Why should I release you?” Ania demanded, waving an arm at all the frozen people around her. “You refuse to release them.”

  “It is for their protection…and Seta’s,” Rena said tightly.

  “Yes, what about Seta. She hosts a demon,” Ania said. “Do not lie. Malachi and I are both aware.”

  “Yes. But the entity only keeps her alive. It does not serve her like Malachi serves you,” Rena declared.

  “Malachi serves the Synars. He does not serve me. Malachi and I are. . .friends,” Ania said with a shrug.

  Malachi laughed. “Good to know, especially now that I see the Creators favor you over their own kind,” he said, walking slowly to Ania and poking her with one finger, not stopping even when she looked at him strangely.

  “A little busy here for your jokes,” Ania said hotly, yanking her arm away. “Why are you poking me?”

  “Why are you not affected by her power?” Malachi asked with a frown. “I made you. You’re the copy, not the original.”

  When he would have started poking again, Ania smacked his hand away hard, making him yelp.

  “Cease the poking! I do not know why. I bow to the will of the Creators,” she announced fiercely, annoyed further when Malachi laughed harder. She turned her irritation with Malachi’s poking into irritation at the still restrained Rena Trax. “Be truthful. Are you indeed an emissary of the Creators?”

  Rena hissed her displeasure. “By what right do you ask me anything? You are not a creature of any world. You are the walking dead.”

  Ania narrowed her gaze and turned to Malachi. “That does it. I’m tired of her disrespect. Toss her over your shoulder and bring her along to Dorian’s meditation room. If she won’t answer my questions, I’ll ask the Creators myself. It is not just her energy filling the ship. They are near to us.”

  “No. Don’t do that. Please—I was not to interfere with your fate,” Rena said quickly. “Indeed, I am one of their emissaries. I do not understand why they have made one of the walking dead my equal.”

  “Your equal?” Ania repeated happily, ignoring the ‘walking dead’ insult she was all too used to hearing by now.

  Testing Rena’s words, Ania turned and held out her hand towards Dorian. She spoke the Pleiadian words of release. Slowly Dorian resumed moving and looked around, staggering in shock when he saw the others still frozen around him.

  “Gwen—no,” Dorian choked out in panic, feeling for her pulse and sagging with relief when he found she still lived. Turning to the other moving people in the room, he swore in Siren and started toward the female on the bed, intending to force her to release his mate before she went to meet her makers.

  “Dorian—stop! You don’t want to take that action yet,” Ania said, stopping her friend’s stride with a firm hand on his arm. “I can release them whenever I want, just like I did you. I only hesitate because something tells me not to do so yet.”

  “Are you sure they all live?” Dorian demanded.

  �
�Aye. I released you because I wanted you to hear this exchange. As my spiritual counselor, I need you to help guide my actions. I can’t afford to misuse the power over this being that the Creators have given me,” Ania exclaimed, squeezing hard to hold him back.

  Dorian yanked his arm away and took a calming breath. “Very well. Do you understand her intentions?”

  Ania shook her head. “No—I have no idea yet.”

  Dorian could tell this was a time to use logic, not emotion, but another glance at Gwen’s unmoving body alarmed him too much to focus on the higher path. “How can you be so calm? Do you not fear for your mate?” he demanded when he could no longer hold all the fear inside. He swore in Siren at his own distress and ran a restless hand through his hair. It wasn’t often that he came so close to a full emotional melt-down.

  Ania looked at Synar frozen in a mid-glare and smiled. “No. I do not fear Liam’s fate. Or at least not nearly as much as I fear using this power to evoke that same state in him whenever I wish. It would be a great temptation to me. I’m fairly sure I would prove unworthy to carry this gift for long.”

  Malachi laughed behind her and found himself quickly on the receiving end of Zade’s angry glare. “Sorry. Frozen mates are not funny—not funny at all,” he stated firmly, shaking his head and waving his hand apologetically at the worried Siren. “Your mate is fine lieutenant and totally unaware of her state. I swear by the Creators.”

  Ania sighed in response to Dorian’s sigh of distress. Playing nice was getting them nowhere, she decided, turning back to the female that had caused the situation. “I have suspected for some time now that this ship is under the greater protection of the Creators. They seem to be having a grand time wreaking havoc with crew members while each is set on whatever personal journey the Creators deem necessary for them.”

  “You expect me to believe the Creators talk to you about their will? Your energy is as dark as his,” Rena declared, tilting her chin towards Malachi, who arched a brow.