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

by Donna McDonald

  “Chiang is just glad the demon’s attention is directed to someone other than—” Chiang looked up from examining Lieutenant Trax and straight into Gwen’s and Dorian’s knowing gazes. Chiang could only shake his head as they laughed at him.

  “Don’t you guys have a room?” he grumbled, seeing Gwen wrapped around the Siren male. Lucky bastard. He couldn’t even imagine Boca being half that willing. “Go to your quarters and be grateful your bed is big enough for two people.”

  “What are you complaining about now? Boca’s too tiny to require much room. I’m surprised you don’t make her sleep on top of you,” Gwen teased, tugging on her dazed mate’s hand and guiding him out of Medical.

  After everyone had left, Chiang decided to trust Rena Trax’s statement about the demon in the new lieutenant not causing any harm. He walked to the com port on the wall to contact a senior medic to come watch over his patient so he could be with one who needed him more.

  When the medic arrived, he pulled up a chair and portable desk next to the patient to do some reports.

  “Call me if she wakes up or there’s a problem,” Chiang ordered, pocketing some pain relievers before heading back to his quarters.

  Chapter 8

  “Hey, slow down. What’s the big rush?” Gwen asked as she laughed at her mate’s hands making quick but unsteady attempts to undo the buttons on her shirt. He was usually a lot smoother about undressing her, mostly because he got a lot of practice.

  The cool air in their room hit the exposed parts of her bringing momentary relief from at least a little of the enormous heat her Siren mate always generated in her.

  “Dorian? Hey, Big Guy—talk to me. I feel the trembling in your hands. Are you okay?”

  “The being in Rena Trax—”

  “The so-called angel?”

  “Okay, yes—the angel,” Dorian bit out the term. “She froze you. When Ania pulled me out of the stasis state, I opened my eyes to see your still, unmoving form near me. I thought you were dead. I would have killed her if Ania hadn’t stopped me.”

  “Well, as you can see, I’m perfectly fine except for worrying about you. It unnerves me to see you like this again. I don’t like it when you’re vulnerable,” Gwen said more softly.

  “Vulnerability is the other side of great strength,” Dorian reminded his mate, sighing and putting his forehead against hers. “Thinking I had lost you was bad enough, but now to know that I abused you when we first mated. . .I feel totally unworthy to touch you now and yet if I don’t I will absolutely go mad.”

  Laughing and trying not to be unkind about it, Gwen pulled his hands from her clothes and tugged hard to bring his body flush against hers. “Well, I don’t remember the stasis state, but thanks for looking out for me. For reasons I haven’t figured out yet, I’m not really worried about Rena Trax. Maybe it’s Ania’s energy reassuring mine. She’s not going to let that being control us.”

  “Indeed—that is a profound truth,” Dorian said softly. “Ania restrained her and then freed me so I could help.”

  “And Malachi—I still can’t freaking believe he kissed that female and gave her a big—” Gwen snickered against Dorian’s hand as it covered her mouth.

  “I may not be feeling compassion for the entity, but it is probably not wise to speak disrespectfully—just in case there is negative energy in your words,” he advised.

  Gwen laughed softly but nodded so her mate would pull his hand away.

  “All I’m saying is that claim of hers to be—an emissary of the Creators, angel, or whatever—seems questionable to me. Rena Trax didn’t look like anything but a regular female when she hit the floor. But if she’s as special as what you believe, then I can’t imagine what kind of brass bonding equipment Malachi must possess to risk doing what he did. If Rena Trax had been like one of the avenging angels of Earth lore, she probably could have just poofed him right out of existence.”

  “Indeed, the demon was most irreverent in his actions towards the emissary’s physical form,” Dorian agreed, going back to his work of undressing his mate. “What is poofed?”

  “Poofed? You know—Abracadabra, and then poof! It indicates magic. Ummm . . . it’s like wishing hard for something and having it instantly come true. Though I’m kind of glad that kind of power doesn’t really exist because so many of us would wish for things and then regret them instantly”

  Gwen frowned as her mate hesitated over unfastening the last buttons on her shirt. What was wrong with him? Zade never hesitated. “If you let me help, we would get me naked a whole lot faster.”

  “No, thank you. You are well aware that I prefer to build my anticipation by undressing you,” Dorian said firmly. “You have already agreed to give that up to my control.”

  “Yeah? Well, what about my anticipation?” Gwen demanded, smiling about his busy tongue now tasting the exposed flesh of her shoulder. If she could twist her head just a little more, she might actually be able to see it. Drat, she thought, when Zade raised his gaze to hers, no tongue in sight.

  “You are absolutely right. I’m thinking only of myself,” he conceded, pulling away again.

  With a tortured groan Dorian ripped open the few inches of shirt left fastened sending last few buttons flying in various directions around the room. Then he swept her hygiene straps down and away from her breasts in one quick motion that had them bouncing against him as they were released from their confinement. Her voluptuous body always excited him, more so when she was thoroughly aroused in return and her nipples peaked in anticipation.

  Dorian pulled his attention from her breasts when Gwen’s quick intake of breath finally allowed him access to her mouth, which he gladly took advantage of while his hands worked at her pants. She fought him to free herself, inciting the need to conquer that he for damn sure was going to control tonight. There would be other times for ravishing. He was still trying to come to terms with knowing for certain that he had done nothing but ravish her during the first week.

  “Last good pair. Last good pair,” Gwen called excitedly, panting between his probing, aggressive kisses. “I concede control. Please don’t destroy them.”

  Smiling at her pleas to spare her clothing, Dorian slowed his hasty struggles, flicking open the fasteners with slow, deliberate intent instead. He liked the way Gwen quivered with every brush of his fingertips against the new skin he revealed in the process. Falling to his knees, he worked the pants over her rounded hips and down thighs that enclosed all the delights a male could ever hope for in any life.

  When he had to stop tugging to unclip the thigh holster for her weapon, Dorian felt his hands trembling again. Raging fires of Helios, the warrior in her always called to the one in him. It was all he could do not to throw her on the floor and unleash the anxious Siren side of him wanting physical proof she still lived.

  But with his memories of their mating week now restored, Dorian suddenly knew with startling clarity that he was the first bonding partner Gwen Jet had ever let have control over her. They hadn’t even gotten a chance to discuss that yet. Thinking that they might never have gotten that chance shook him.

  The swift change of fierceness into tenderness brought a sweep of compassion so encompassing that it threatened to dissolve him into a puddle at her feet. Nothing would scare his warrior mate more than to know he wept over her.

  Leaning his forehead against Gwen’s belly to soothe his spirit and to reassure her of his desire, Dorian whispered a prayer for his mate’s continued safety. Then he simply refused to think anymore about the possibility of losing her, even though such a threat was always going to be a reality for as long as they served on the Liberator. Yet he wouldn’t ask her to leave the ship yet—couldn’t take her command from her even after she’d offered to shorten her contract for him. But for the first time, Dorian found himself eagerly looking forward to a couple years of relative peace on his own planet. His mate would enjoy bossing around all the cadets and trainees. That should keep her both busy and happy while s
he carried his children. He just had to survive two more years of service.

  “If you want my complete devotion Sweet Joy, you must say please again and mean it,” Dorian demanded in a harsh whisper, trying to restore his seducing mood while kissing down the front of each thigh as her pants finally fell to her ankles.

  “Why? Did you get bored while you undressed me?” Gwen asked with a snort.

  “Never going to happen,” Dorian said, pressing his lips to her belly as she laughed.

  Gwen looked down on her mate’s head wondering how in the hell Dorian Zade kept convincing her to play the conquered maiden. Maybe it was because Zade was so pretty. And really, she only cared about getting him inside her every chance she got anyway, so why not go along with what made him happy? Even when it kicked her pride’s ass now and again.

  Okay, maybe she didn’t mind conceding to her Siren mate because Zade scared the hell out of her annoying male parent. By the time her father had finally offered his ultimatum of returning in three years, Gwen would have said and done just about anything to convince her sire to go back to his own damn ship. When she had shared her father’s emotional blackmail with Zade, it had been all she could do to stop him from taking steps to change Cahir’s satisfied smirk into a grimace of pain. Zade’s fierce emotional protection of her never failed to make her hot to please him in return.

  Maybe that’s why she did the whole “I’m your female” thing with Zade. Who knew she’d ever enjoy someone else fighting her battles for her? Not that she ever intended to admit to Zade that she liked his controlling attitude—or at least not outside their private quarters.

  “What if I don’t feel like saying please again?” Gwen challenged, just to make sure she could still resist him when she wanted. Besides, she had a pretty good idea what her mate would do to her if she refused to beg. And Shades of Kellnor, she’d probably die of longing for it if he didn’t try those things.

  “If you don’t say please again, I will punish you as usual. There will be sexual torture, and I will make you beg for release,” Dorian promised huskily, his breath moving gently over the juncture of her thighs as he spoke. “Nothing is sweeter than hearing verbal proof of your need.”

  He lifted one foot out of the pants he’d manage to spare and draped the shapely leg attached to it casually over his shoulder. He ran his hand from ankle to thigh in satisfaction, smiling as the very strong limb hooked down his back, attempting to pull him closer to the source of her need. It was hard to resist his mate’s invitation to plunder without restraint, and not just because her increased strength beckoned him to test her boundaries. It was simply that Gwen was so alluring to him and he had a very hard time restraining himself.

  As if hearing his internal debate, his mate moaned, and her leg tightened further. Gwen was all fierceness one minute, and all needy female the next. May the Creators save his sanity, Dorian thought, because he was completely besotted with the contradiction.

  “Beg, and I will adore you beyond anything you can imagine,” he whispered, glad to find he meant it.

  “You’re out of luck, Siren. I don’t feel like begging tonight. I guess that means you have to torture me,” Gwen said finally, one hand playing with his hair that was finally longer than hers again. Evidently Sirens grew hair quickly. She hadn’t known until he told her that he had it cut regularly just to keep it at his shoulders. Lost in the feel of it slipping through her fingers, she almost missed his words.

  “Perhaps your resistance is understandable. Perhaps I am the one who should do the begging tonight after what I learned today,” Dorian admitted, licking deeply inside her with the Greggor tongue his mate pretended not to like, no matter how well he used it to pleasure her.

  “Yes—you should do the begging—all the begging,” Gwen said on a laugh, not believing for a moment her mate meant it. He was bluffing. It was the game they always played. Maybe tonight she’d pretend to weep or conjure up some real tears when she begged him. That usually drove him past that damn formal politeness she hated. In fact, she knew just how to sate that huge Siren ego of his and pretty much everything else Zade had.

  Dorian stopped what he was doing to kiss a trail across her belly. He whispered words in Siren and heard his mate’s tinkling laugh.

  “Oh no—sorry. Begging in Siren doesn’t count, no matter how sexy it sounds,” Gwen informed him, her own voice husky.

  “I said—please let me pleasure you,” Dorian repeated roughly.

  He slid his tongue through her now exposed core, over the center of her weakness, and deep inside to where she throbbed with the need for release that he had created in her.

  Above him Gwen moaned, her fingers tangling in his hair again, this time tugging him closer using her considerable strength. From his fierce warrior mate, the demand of her grip was his favorite kind of begging. The headiness of her desperate response made him feel like the luckiest male that had ever been given life.

  “Gwen Shenu Jet, if you must hear me beg tonight, then hear this. I beg you with all my heart to not die for several hundred years. I simply cannot bear the thought of losing you,” Dorian said fiercely, licking harder, deeper, sweeping along a pathway that would soon send them both over the edge.

  “Die? And leave you free to do this to some other female? Not a chance in hell Zade—or heaven—or wherever it is you all think the Creators live,” Gwen said between moans. “You’re mine, Siren. My mate. Now hurry and pleasure me so I can think clearly enough to return the favor.”

  When Dorian laughed against her, ignoring her command to hurry, Gwen decided the begging had to be cranked up a notch. So she spoke the only words in the Siren tongue she had completely mastered. They were, she had discovered, the most useful for her in times like this. And she had even learned how to get a little weepy when she said them. It wasn’t all that hard to let herself get sentimental with Zade. He was the only male she had ever cried over anyway. “Pleora. Ma’ta pleora. Pleora.”

  “My Sweet Joy, I love you so,” Dorian choked out on the final sweep of his tongue that effectively tumbled his mate over his head as she fell in surrender.

  He caught her up easily, tossing her over a shoulder as he stood with her. They were both laughing as he rolled with her into the bed. But then he became irritated when he realized that he was still completely dressed.

  “Please, Dorian. I need you inside me now. Don’t make me wait,” Gwen whimpered. It would drive Zade insane not to be able to act on her husky demand immediately. She smiled in satisfaction as she heard him swearing viciously in Siren.

  “Stop laughing and help me get out of my clothes,” he hissed at her. “Blast it all. You know you distract me when you are naked and begging.”

  Gwen snickered and laughed the whole time she was unfastening his pants and having her wicked way with him in return.

  ***

  Chiang fetched a small glass of Sumerian tea from the food emulator in the outer room, one of the few perks of living in the doctor’s quarters. He had made the engineers program the ingredient list in when he was still chasing Boca around the ship, hoping to entice her with his desire to please her in ways other than bonding.

  When he sat on the edge of the bed, Boca’s eyes opened tiredly and finally focused on him. He opened his palm and showed her what he’d brought, eliciting a sleepy, grateful smile that twisted both his hearts. It upset him that simple acts of kindness always elicited surprise from Boca. It made Chiang wonder if anyone had ever looked after her.

  Holding out her hand, Boca took the herbal disks Chiang had brought and placed them under her tongue, grateful that he had remembered her aversion to synthetic aids. The bitter aftertaste of the natural pain reliever was almost enough to make her feel better because she knew relief to her aching limbs was finally on the way. She should have gone for them herself instead of passing out, but her body had been just too exhausted to put out the effort.

  “I know warriors are not supposed to admit any weaknesses, but even the
tips of my fingers hurt,” Boca complained. “Maybe being a healer isn’t such a bad job after all.”

  “As a sign of our new trust, I will not tell your trainers you said so.” Chiang grinned at her sleepy admission and handed her the tea. “Here. Chaser for the bad taste.”

  Boca took a couple cautious sips and sighed. “Tea from Sumeria. It always makes me feel better. Did you bring it over from Medical?”

  “No,” Chiang said softly. “I had it programmed into the emulator in these quarters, in case you ever got thirsty while you were here working—or temporarily visiting.”

  Boca snickered at his careful words about her presence, drained the tea container, and handed it back. She watched Chiang disappear to return it to storage so it could be sanitized again. It was impossible not to admire his strong body as he walked away.

  When he came back to the room, Boca lifted the covers, waiting for him to drop his clothes and climb in beside her. “Yes. This is an invitation. I am too tired to debate the wisdom of wanting your comfort.”

  “I’m starting to really like this new attitude of yours,” Chiang teased, making short work of getting naked. Once in the bed, he rolled the still sleepy Boca gently into his arms. “I swear I’d give six months of credits for a sleeping platform big enough for two.”

  Boca sighed against him, nodding her agreement as he lifted her hair and arranged it so she wasn’t lying on it. Even exhausted, she had woken twice while he was gone to deal with Synar’s emergency, just because she had missed him in bed. Her waning neutrality was a bad sign, but there was no use pretending away how nice it was to be cared for by the solicitous Greggor, even if it was just to make her want to bond with him. Any female would have appreciated his ministrations, and undoubtedly many had, but no male had ever sought to comfort her by stroking her hair. It was as relaxing as it was addicting.