For one, they could have tested it on Ambassador Onin. That female would have enjoyed the pain, and it might have met some need in her that few males were willing to indulge. Chiang frowned thinking about the many bonding propositions he’d personally turned down from the wicked ambassador. It had been no hardship on him declining her offers. Perhaps he was traditional, but he simply did not derive bonding pleasure from inflicting pain on his female partners.
“How does it feel?” he asked, stepping back to visually inspect the fit around her throat, before coming back to slide fingers between the collar and her throat to check tightness.
Though average in height, he still had to bend his body to see it well. Boca was diminutive, smaller than all the other females now on the Liberator, and in his opinion, way too emotionally fragile to be testing a pain collar. Chiang still didn’t understand why Captain Synar had ordered him to use Boca despite his protests of her total unsuitability.
Seeing Chiang’s concerns for her reflected in his gaze, Boca lifted damp hands to the collar around her neck to test its tightness around her throat for herself. She was nervous about wearing any kind of restraining device but determined to rid herself of fear of all such things. In fact, she was determined to never fear anything or anyone again. It was both a personal and professional goal.
Malachi had counseled her to face her fears by placing her fate in the hands of others not likely to harm her, but who had the power to do so. He had said it would make her more confident of her escape from those who meant her harm if she “practiced” escaping. But why had she stepped up to volunteer for testing the collar Commander Jet would wear as part of her disguise? Did that mean she trusted the virile male studying her with a concerned expression scrunching up his face every time her gaze met his?
It was a truth she didn’t understand that the Greggor and the demon were the only males she trusted onboard the Liberator. Even Lieutenant Zade scared her, especially with his ability to see right through her shields.
Her trust of Malachi was counter-intuitive, but the demon never tried to intimidate her with his power, just the opposite in fact. And Chiang—well, that was complicated, but she did not fear him in a bad way.
“It feels okay. More comfortable than one would think. Are they really like this?” she asked, because knowing and understanding the power of what was hurting you was the first step to finding a way to overcome it.
Chiang nodded. “Mostly the collars are tolerable to those wearing them. I would forget I wore it at times, but then my strength allowed me to ignore its weight.”
“It is heavy, but not unbearable. Perhaps the wearer adjusts to the weight,” Boca said, fingers straining at the collar again. She chastised herself for the panic that threatened to sweep through her as she tugged without a response.
Chiang nodded again, wanting badly to tell the brave female in front of him how much he hated seeing the slave collar on her. Yet in her gaze was a determination to deal with it that he did not understand, but reluctantly respected. So he said nothing.
“I’ve dialed back the sensations. You should feel them, but they should not be so painful as to stop you from functioning. We want it to look real and act real without impairing Commander Jet’s ability to fight,” he directed.
Boca nodded and firmed her jaw. “I understand the purpose. I will strive to provide feedback that will aid Commander Jet. You may proceed with activating the device.”
Resigned, Chiang picked up the remote and turned the collar on, watching Boca’s hands come to the collar again in surprise.
“The humming is normal. It scrambles the wearer’s energy signature and makes those sold into slavery very hard to find,” he explained.
“Why don’t the slave traders just remove the ID chips from their captives?” Boca asked, forcing herself to drop her hands.
“Can’t bypass the self-destruct mechanism which turns the person into a giant homing beacon. Scrambling the ID signal constantly is expensive, but probably more effective in keeping valuable slaves in custody,” Chiang said.
“My people know how to remove the ID chips without them self-destructing. It is not common knowledge, but I have seen it done many times,” Boca said.
“How do you know for sure it worked?” Chiang asked.
“The removed chip is placed in a stasis container which continues to broadcast the location while the person can move around freely undetected and untraceable by anyone, including the Peace Alliance,” Boca explained. “I know someone who worked covertly for them and his chip was removed.”
“Where is he now? Or does anyone know?” Chiang asked, grinning at his joke.
Boca nodded, or at least she tried. The collar did not allow for much head movement. “Yes. Rogan has gone to be with the Creators. He was poisoned while on a mission and did not make it back to us in time to remove the poison. He died a few days after his return.”
“Poison—not an easy death,” Chiang commented, sorry now he’d tried to take her mind off the collar testing with a joke.
“No, you are correct. It was a painful death. As a healer, I tried all I knew to save him. Nothing worked. The Creators took him anyway,” she said, looking away.
“Did you know him personally?” Chiang asked absently, then placed the remote on the bench. “I have the controls set on a timer which will randomly send the charge to the collar. Be alert that it is coming, but we need to catch you off-guard. Gwen will have no way of knowing when they’ll be hitting her with it. Anyone with a controller set to her frequency will be able to set off her collar at a close enough range.”
“Understood,” Boca said, trying to nod again, ultimately sighing at her inability to remember that she couldn’t move her head.
Talking with Chiang, she kept forgetting what they were doing and how important it was. She kept forgetting her physical discomfort. She kept forgetting everything but how relaxing his voice was and how it soothed her.
“Sorry. Where were we in our conversation—oh yes, the person who was poisoned. So you knew him?” he asked more reverently this time, leaning against the tall bench he was using as a build table, supporting himself on one of his hands.
“Yes, I knew him well. We were mated for sixty-two earth years,” Boca said softly.
Chiang’s hand slipped at the sad look on her face, sending tools scattering across the floor. “Shades of Kellnor, I’m sorry I asked so…I didn’t mean to pry into your past.”
He bent to retrieve the tools, placing them randomly back on the bench.
Boca smiled softly at his embarrassment. “Your questions do not upset me, Chiang of Greggor. I sense your compassion. As sad as my Sumerian’s mate’s end was, I prefer thinking and talking about Rogan to remembering the unscrupulous male I spent the last four years of my life with who forced me to serve as his mate.”
“I’m sorry to bring up both situations,” Chiang said sincerely, preferring her not to think about any other males at all in any discussion with him. He would have preferred Boca Ador to focus her attention on the future, preferably one including time spent with him before he went crazy with longing for her.
“I find you easy to confide in and talk to about my life. You pass neither judgment nor leap to fix my flaws, though I know you sense my struggle. It is a very appealing quality in a male to be so patient,” Boca said. “I have not been around many patient males.”
“You are not flawed,” Chiang said, grinning at her. “You are as brave as you are compassionate. That is an appealing combination in a female.”
“Some would say Commander Jet possesses similar qualities,” Boca said.
Chiang nodded as he thought about it. “Yes. I suppose she does. Though in Gwen’s case, all admirable qualities are buried beneath layers of angry female and subject to the mercy of her irreverent tongue. Good can get lost on its way out her mouth. Do you ever get angry, Boca?”
“Sometimes,” Boca said truthfully, “but I have a tendency to destroy things when
I do. Knowing this, I fight my violent tendencies and am mostly successful in controlling the darkness within me. I imagine I have much left from my…Lotharian captivity.”
She was not going to continue calling that male her mate regardless of what her body said about it. Somehow he would be forgotten, ignored, or whatever it took to banish him from her energy completely.
“I can’t imagine what you’re like when you’re angry,” Chiang said truthfully in return, thinking instead that if she were that passionate, such intense energy could be put to much better use than venting her temper.
Boca shook her head. “I see your musings within your gaze. My anger has nothing to do with how passionate I am, so you might as well give up that line of thinking. This is true for most females. A female can bond with a male and still be angry when they are done. Many males have been killed in their sleep for not being aware of this fact. I would have killed my false Lotharian mate if I had not feared my own death would instantly result.”
“I know both Gwen and Ania think you capable of such an act,” Chiang said, watching her shrug and shift her gaze to the floor. He raised his eyebrows as he remembered her other comments. “How did you know what I was thinking? Are you reading my mind?”
“Some would say it is a Sumerian trick, and perhaps it is something like that—” Boca began, then screamed as the pain shot through her, taking her to her knees.
Chiang was on his knees in front of her, hands grabbing and breaking the collar, ripping it off her before he could stop his reaction. Then seeing the broken collar in his hands, he realized his only thought had been to free Boca and stop her pain. Using the controller hadn’t even crossed his mind.
“Are you okay?” he asked tightly.
Boca nodded. Then she dove into Chiang’s arms, which came around her automatically clutching her now shaking body. He heard her choke back a sob.
“It’s okay. Shhhh…it’s okay. You’re safe. No one is going to hurt you anymore. I swear it,” he said, wrapping her even more tightly, the broken collar dangling from his fingers. Both his hearts beat hard, vibrating through every nerve cell as they touched. Closing his eyes, he savored the moment, trying to memorize the feel of her in his arms.
Suddenly aware of the strong, solid male pressing along her body, Boca pulled away. He felt good—really good. It had been a long time since a male had felt good to her.
But the last time a male had felt this good, she had changed her life and her destiny, given up her dreams to become something she had never planned, something he’d chosen for her. Never again would she let anyone else become the master of her fate. Boca backed away from Chiang, willing her senses to forget the pleasure of being near him.
“I’m sorry. I—perhaps I’m not as free of my ordeal on Lotharius as I had hoped,” she said quietly. “Forgive me for ruining the test. Did I break the device?”
“No,” Chiang said, frowning at her and how right it had seemed comforting her. “I think I broke the lock, but it will be less trouble to mend than you would be if the collar had truly hurt you.”
Boca bowed her head in shame. “Thank you for saving me.”
Chiang frowned at her bowed head. “Did it hurt as bad as it looked? You went down immediately and hard. It wasn’t set to harm.”
Boca shook her head. “I was just caught completely off-guard and I—I fear I am weaker or more sensitive for having suffered the wires. I do not think the commander will find it as much a challenge. She is…perhaps it is ready to test on her.”
“Perhaps,” Chiang agreed, ready to say anything that would keep her near him. “Are you sure you…”
Boca held up her hand and climbed to her feet. “I am fine. It’s passing already. I simply was… not ready. Do not be concerned. I regret not doing a better job in helping you.”
“Will you have dinner with me tonight? Just dinner. I…I,” Chiang stopped and sighed. “I’m interested in getting to know you, Boca. You can talk more about your Sumerian mate if you want. I don’t mind hearing about your life, and I think you should talk to someone about it.”
Boca looked at the floor, studied a spot there, but it held no answers on how to tactfully decline.
“I am having my evening meal with Malachi. I will talk to him,” she said.
“The demon?” Chiang asked. “You trust him to know your weaknesses.”
“I sense he wishes to help. He feels compassion for me as you do,” Boca said softly. “I think I will return to Medical now. If you get the clasp fixed, I will come back to test and try to do better next time.”
“No need,” Chiang said, setting the collar on the bench. “I’ll contact Gwen for the next test. Thank you for helping.”
Boca bowed her head to Chiang, and then despite how much she wanted to stay, she fled to Medical.
Chapter 4
“We’re still six hours away,” Gwen said, pacing. “I’m wearing out the carpet Zade probably spent several months of credits to buy.”
Ania laughed. “Want to go the training room and see if we can work some of this out of you?”
Gwen shook her head. “It wouldn’t help. Jurek had me work out with several of the Ensigns he’s instructing in the Yokar method. I fought all five and didn’t even get tired. Two ended up in Medical for sprains. Synar hired a bunch of babies barely out of academy. I don’t know what he was thinking.”
Ania snickered. “I can’t wait until Dorian sees you fight now. Next time he takes you on, he’s in for a big surprise.”
Gwen stopped her pacing.
“Thanks for saying that,” she said, looking at Ania, who looked confused. “Not just for the compliment—you know—thanks for thinking we’ll find him, that there will be a next time.”
“Of that I have no doubt,” Ania said with confidence, standing and walking to Dorian’s upright clothes locker.
She pushed around his clothes but didn’t see what she was looking for among the shirts hanging there. Then she saw the flat trunk in the bottom, hidden back in a corner. Finding it unlocked, she opened it and lifted out a tattered shirt.
How many times had she seen Dorian wear the shirt to class? Too numerous to recall. She knew some of the slash marks were from her practice knife ripping through the cloth.
“Here is a distraction,” Ania said briskly, walking to Gwen with the shirt in her hands. “Put this on. If you are able to sense the energy from this shirt, you will know the Dorian Zade I knew—the less spiritual, less controlled one. He was quite the typical Siren male back then, so you might see more than…well no matter. You will handle it all, I’m sure.”
Gwen took the all-but-disintegrated shirt and held it up to her. “This was Zade’s? It’s full of holes. I can’t imagine him wearing a shirt in this condition.”
“Yes. Most of those rips and tears came from me. No one else would fight him after the first three months. He wore the shirt to remind himself to stay on guard and not become complacent with his skills,” Ania said.
“That sounds just like him,” Gwen said on a snort, pulling the shirt carefully over her uniform shirt. An image of Zade trapping her against the training room door filled her mind. She smiled to think that incident had taken him back to his youth.
Instead of letting the memory torture her, she gladly tuned her mind into the insistent male in him joyfully asserting himself. Though the memory of his hard body did make her groan a little, it also made her laugh to see how he’d felt about that day because she’d been mad enough to kill him with her bare hands.
“It appears I’ve met that side of him—at least once,” Gwen announced on a laugh.
Ania laughed with her.
“Indeed,” Ania said flatly, imitating Dorian’s favorite dry answer as well as she could.
Gwen laughed at her teasing. “So how come you and he never hooked up—I mean—you’re both so…intense and amazing. You’ve known each a long time. Was he like a brother to you or something?”
Ania laughed again as she pull
ed out the chair at Dorian’s desk to sit. “No. I was well aware of Dorian as an appealing male. But I was devoted to my spiritual quest then every bit as much as he was to his when you came along two years ago. There was no mating pull to fuel the interest like in your case, just normal curiosity between two unmated beings.”
Ania tilted her head, thinking about it. “Perhaps there was a tiny window once where I wondered what it would be like, but I never acted on the interest. Then he met the first human mate he took. Did he ever tell you about her?”
“No—he only mentioned his faithfulness. Before he left, I admit I tuned him out a bit, afraid to want him any more than I already did. I wish I hadn’t put that distance between us now, but. . .so okay, tell me about the first female,” Gwen said on a sigh.
“Her name was Zelphyria. I remember she was quite beautiful and one of those females who enthrall men with her appearance alone. My very tiny flicker for him faded away never to return when he claimed her. As far as I could tell, Dorian was very happy with Zelphyria. Actually, he was happy with both his mates in different ways, though Liam did not care for the second female. He still describes Talen as a doormat and says she let Dorian tell her when to breathe. I did not know her as well as I did Zelphyria. I was serving as ambassador then and went almost half a century without seeing Dorian much. In the time I didn’t see him, he lost Talen and went back to stay with Sarinnea until his grief passed. Next time I saw him, he was serving on Liam’s first ship.”
Gwen paced around the room wearing his shirt and thinking about the mates that preceded her. She felt no jealousy for the dead females. She knew she was nothing like either one of them. Sometimes she wasn’t even sure she was feminine enough for any male, much less a Siren. All she knew how to be was a warrior.
“I asked Zade once why he chose me. He said he didn’t. I think we ended up arguing about it. Yet I know the first time…well, it doesn’t matter. It’s like we’re starting over anyway,” Gwen said morosely. “I need to stop thinking about how it once was between us, but those memories are hard to put away.”
The Siren's Call (Fantasy, Science Fiction, Romance) (FORCED TO SERVE) Page 4
