The Siren's Call (Fantasy, Science Fiction, Romance) (FORCED TO SERVE)

by McDonald, Donna

  He paced and then sat down on the bed, which was the only real surface in the area allotted to him. “Actually, I did not. I had bad dreams. I dreamed a female shot me with a weapon at close range. It was not you.”

  He noticed she smiled at his last statement, obviously pleased about it somehow. He wanted to tell her that he wished now that his attacker had been more successful because he might not still be trapped in a cage making idle conversation with a lying female he detested on sight.

  “I think we’ll be able to go home soon,” she said softly. “My bed is lonely without you. Is there anything you wish?”

  A thousand things rolled through his mind, but he let none of them escape his mouth.

  “I only wish for my life to be normal again. This space is very confining,” he replied, forcing himself to smile at her.

  The female practically beamed through the bars.

  “Soon, my prize. Soon,” she said, twirling on heels and walking away.

  He clutched his stomach and looked for a place to hide the food he had no intentions of eating that night. If they came to give him drugs again, they were going to get a surprise, pain or no pain.

  He was tired of being controlled.

  Chapter 7

  Guards escorted Ania and Gwen into a building just inside the city walls. Gwen was immediately put into a cage with several others wearing collars like hers. She could see everything happening in several rooms from her location, including the one where Ania had been taken. A large male in a pressed uniform greeted her from behind a desk.

  Gwen watched as he smiled and motioned Ania to a chair. She couldn’t hear the conversation clearly, but she picked up the gist of it being an explanation from Ania. The male ordered one of the guards to fetch her a drink. Gwen had a tiny moment of envy because she was thirsty herself, but then a wave of dread and a vision of Ania in shackles wiped it away.

  “No—don’t drink it,” she whispered, clutching the bars of her prison and wishing she dared free herself.

  Then it was too late. She watched Ania lift the glass, drink, and swallow. Waiting for her vision to come true, Gwen breathed hard and bit her lip. She was positively shocked when Ania rose and walked calmly to the cage to talk to her.

  “Sorry you’re in a cage. You’ll be released shortly. It’s standard procedure to secure slaves when they are not working or serving in some manner. We’ll be on our way as soon as I convince the chief that we have nothing but honorable intentions,” she said.

  Gwen nodded and watched Ania turn and start back to the male, who saw her coming and rose. He smiled and said something to Ania that made her gasp.

  Then she saw Ania fall unceremoniously to the floor a short distance from the desk.

  The giant male walked to her and toed Ania’s fallen body with the edge of his boot, then motioned to two guards to take her away.

  Then he walked to the cage where Gwen couldn’t help glaring at him from behind the bars. She stepped away preparing for a fight, but trying not to look like she was.

  “Hello there, my beautiful prize,” he said to her.

  “Hello,” Gwen said back, thinking playing nice and acting afraid instead of disgusted was probably better than indulging her sarcastic streak at the moment.

  “You owe me your life,” he said, smiling at her as his gaze swept her body. “Your previous captor was one of the walking dead. She carries a demon’s power, but the entity does not seem to be within her at the moment. Fortunately, we have drugs for controlling just about every possible entity that has ever graced the land of Terris Rein. And I happen to be in the market for a demon.”

  He turned and spoke to the guards in a language Gwen didn’t understand. They looked at her and nodded.

  “Do not fear for your safety. I have claimed you,” he said gently. “Later I will expect a proper show of gratitude in return. If you please me, I might not sell you. You’re just my kind of female.”

  “I don’t think so,” Gwen said automatically, thinking he was too, too much like Fener Sel for her allow him any liberties for the sake the escaping. Either he would die or she would. “If you touch me, I will have to kill you. This is my only warning.”

  The male laughed at her words and picked up a controller from a nearby table. He pointed it at Gwen, running through several settings before locating the frequency that sent her collar shooting vibrations through her.

  Gwen called out and fell to the floor clutching at her neck like she was enduring great pain. “Stop. Please stop,” she begged, glad she had practiced until even Chiang had stopped laughing and believed her.

  “You beg very sweetly, so I will,” he said, tossing the remote back onto to the table. “I’m going to enjoy you very much.”

  Gwen climbed slowly to her feet again. “Not as much as I’m going to enjoy killing you. I missed out on getting to kill the last male that tried to take advantage of me. If Ania wakes up before you let me out of here, I may miss out again. She is not as merciful as I am.”

  “If you’re referring to your previous master, I’m afraid she’s not going to wake up for days,” he said happily, “and when it does happen, it will be to find herself in the best shackles made in the universe. We’ll just be holding onto her until her entity shows up to save her, then we’ll capture him and dispose of the body. There’s a Norblade who’s been looking for a demon for a very long time. I’m sure it doesn’t have to be the exact one.”

  “His name wouldn’t be Conor Synar would it?” Gwen asked, snorting at the guard’s stupidity in thinking he could manage to capture Malachi.

  He frowned at her. “You have quite a bit of knowledge for a slave. So what if it is?”

  “Your potential buyer made other arrangements. So you can kiss that big sale goodbye,” Gwen advised.

  “Big talk for someone wearing a collar. Your master is not my first demon host, little girl, and you aren’t my first slave. See you later.”

  He turned to walk away and Gwen looked at the rest of the slaves huddled together in the corner. If she blew up the office with one of Chiang’s explosives, she might take out the innocents as well as the bastards. If she got past the locked door, they still would take her down because she was outnumbered.

  Dropping back to the floor, Gwen decided she might as well rest and conserve her energy for the next opportunity. They weren’t going to hurt Ania because they wanted her for demon bait. And they probably wouldn’t touch her otherwise because she was considered an unclean female.

  The guard walked back to the cell and pointed the remote at her again. “One more thing, Beautiful. Give me your shoes or you’ll get another dose. We don’t allow slaves to wear shoes on Terris Rein.”

  Grunting, Gwen pulled off one shoe and threw it out the bars and then the other while the controlling bastard laughed at her. He had no idea how badly losing her shoes pissed her off. She looked at her bare feet and cursed her intuition.

  “And everyone wonders why I never want to know these things ahead of time,” she said fiercely. “Raging fires of Helios, knowing didn’t do a damn bit of good. I still lost my freaking shoes. It just makes me more angry to have seen it coming and not have been able to stop it.”

  “Do not be disrespectful to the guards. It only makes it worse for all of us,” a sullen male whispered urgently to her.

  “Oh bite me,” Gwen said, leaning back against the wall. “You better be thinking of what you’re going to do when I get us all out of here later. I’m not a damn slave.”

  The male laughed softly. So did several others.

  “When you wear the collar, you’re a slave,” the sullen male told her.

  Gwen rolled her eyes up and closed them, trying not to think about both Zade and Sarinnea saying that to her in her visions.

  “Listen up, Creators of All,” she announced into the air, uncaring if her cell mates thought she was crazy. “I’m not up on religious protocol, but your intuition gift is not very helpful. If you’re going to warn me about s
omething like this shitty situation, stop hinting and just show me plainly.”

  “You have the most irreverent tongue I’ve ever heard on a female,” the sullen male said. “The chief guard deserves you.”

  Gwen’s only answer to her fellow captive was a laugh that was fueled by more evil thoughts than she’d had in a long time. If the chief guard touched her, he would die. Right now, she would be happy to kill him just for taking her shoes.

  ***

  He let the physician who had been drugging him for days check his current condition, even answering the questions about his well-being as honestly as possible without letting on how his mind was firmly set to end his torment that day. After the physician left, he toyed with the food they had brought, walking around as he pretended to eat it, all the while discreetly discarding it throughout the meager furnishings of his cell. The mess he was creating meant little because he didn’t plan on sleeping in the bed again after tonight anyway.

  Either he’d escape when they came in to drug him in his sleep or he’d die trying. Anything was better than continuing to tolerate the situation.

  The drink they brought him wasn’t as easily disposed of, but he held most of it in his mouth as he pretended to knock over what left, spitting out the part he hadn’t swallowed as he stooped to retrieve the glass from the floor.

  He just hoped the amount he’d had to ingest didn’t affect him too greatly.

  When the guard who watched over him offered more to drink, he refused it with a frown, throwing himself on the bed with a sigh. He closed his eyes and tried to force his mind blank, thinking to lower his anxiety level. Instead, every time he closed his eyes he saw a tall, beautiful slave female with smooth skin, telling him over and over she was coming to get him.

  Thoughts of her usually comforted him, even when he wasn’t even sure there was anything worth fighting his way out of the cage for. More than once he wondered how much of his dreams were just an illusion caused by what they were doing to him. He certainly hoped the dream he had of her shooting him last night was drug induced. Seeing her in a uniform brandishing a weapon hadn’t exactly reassured him of her motives either.

  Soon—no matter how much he wanted to stop it from happening, he felt his eyelids drooping as he slipped into dreaded sleep.

  ***

  Malachi was walking down the hall with Boca when the vision of Ania in shackles hit him. Boca called out when he squeezed her shoulder tightly in alarm. It wasn’t the reaction to his touch he had been striving to get from her, but Ania’s condition had sent him into full alert mode and caused him to lose control.

  “Sorry,” he said, patting her in apology. “I…I can’t do dinner after all. Liam—I have to tell him Ania is in trouble. Sorry.”

  Not wanting to leave his physical body, Malachi took off running to the bridge, yelling “Move, move, move,” to anyone who got in his way. He found Liam and the newly appointed Lieutenant Chiang bent over the map console, studying the layout of the city on Terris Rein where they had concluded the Sirens were being held.

  “Liam—I’ve come to tell you that Ania has been captured. I saw her in…”

  Malachi stopped, realizing it was probably best to not share the exact details given his master’s possessiveness where his mate was concerned. Bogdan Synar might not have ordered the deaths of his mate’s captors, but his son Liam would do anything to protect Ania. Also, despite his compassion to his brother, the younger Synar would likely not think twice about forcing Malachi to leave Conor’s body unattended and dying in the process. In the end, it was simple self-preservation of his new host form that had him rethinking what he told Liam.

  Ania wasn’t in complete danger, just naked and restrained. She was tough enough to endure it. He had made sure of it.

  “Ania has been captured. She’s been drugged and needs our help. We need to leave immediately. She’s fine for now, but we need to go before her captors do worse to her,” Malachi said, figuring that even a partial truth held enough sincerity to merit action.

  Synar stood and walked quickly to Malachi, calling over his shoulder as he moved with Malachi to the door. “Lieutenant Chiang?”

  “Aye. I understand. I’ll contact dispatch and tell them to have the shuttle ready when you get there,” Chiang said, going to the com on the captain’s chair.

  “Wait—I need a guardian for the body. I can’t leave it until I must,” Malachi said, counting on Synar not wanting to risk the body either.

  “There are no warriors left to take with us,” Synar said harshly. “We can’t leave the Liberator unguarded.”

  “Take Boca Ador,” Malachi said. “She…” He looked at Chiang the Greggor and then back to Synar. Sooner or later the truth is always revealed, Malachi thought, pushing away the tiny bit of disloyalty he felt revealing Boca’s confidence.

  “Boca Ador was not always a healer. She was training to be a Sumerian assassin until her mate forced her to stop. I trust her to guard Conor’s body—and she has the medical training to keep it alive until my return,” Malachi said.

  Since Malachi’s competition with Chiang over the attention of the Sumerian female was the latest gossip on the ship, Synar had to assume the demon would not have risked revealing such an intimate piece of information unless it was truth in both what he said and crucial to help Ania.

  Glancing over his shoulder, Synar met his new lieutenant’s startled gaze. He well understood the shock because it wasn’t long ago he’d discovered Ania was a warrior. But there was nothing to do now but use the resources he had in order to do what must be done. Four members of his crew were in danger. The only other option was Jurek or an Ensign, but they didn’t know about Malachi.

  But Liam made a vow in that moment. When his crew was back where they belonged, he was going to make sure this never happened again.

  “We’ll call Boca on the way. Lieutenant Chiang, are you able to maintain and take care of my ship?” he asked.

  “Aye…” Chiang answered, wanting to say more, but all he could think of was Boca talking about destroying her former mate’s severed hand as if it were nothing of importance. Now he understood, even though he wished he didn’t. Now he knew why she was so strong even after what she’d endured.

  Synar nodded his head to Malachi and they hurried to the shuttle dock.

  They were climbing the shuttle ramp when Synar saw Boca Ador come running out of the elevator with his new lieutenant on her heels. He and Malachi headed inside the shuttle. The demon was reluctant, but Synar wanted Chiang to have a moment.

  “Come on. This is not for us. I want you to tell me what you saw in your vision of her.”

  Malachi looked at Chiang and Boca with a sigh of resignation before following his master as commanded.

  Boca was starting up the ramp when Chiang’s commanding voice called her name and stopped her. She’d never heard him use a harsh tone, much less yell. But then what did she know about the Greggor male? Nothing, she decided. She knew nothing.

  “Come back safely,” he ordered. “Do what you must to survive and come back. Nothing matters but that. Boca…” He stopped. What else could he say to her? Last time he saw her, she’d waved a bundle of scalpels at him.

  Chiang watched as Boca slowed, glanced back to nod at his words, and then continued up the ramp, only stopping at the shuttle’s door. He heard her swearing and was wondering what he had said to upset her just before he saw Boca’s fist slam against the door jam. Then she spun, running back in his direction, flying down the ramp to launch herself at him.

  Chiang caught her up, his mouth unerringly finding hers, realizing he’d been waiting since the day he met her to do just that. The sheer rightness of their kiss rocked him, but her trembling told him she wasn’t unaffected by the contact either. Her angry sob almost made him drop her in concern, so he tightened his hold.

  “I do not want another mate,” Boca said firmly against Chiang’s mouth, his lovely, warm, spicy mouth that she wanted to drink from until her thi
rst for him was quenched.

  “So? I never wanted one in the first place. Why are you bringing this up now when you’re leaving?” Chiang demanded against her lips, going back for just one more unbelievably amazing kiss before he could make himself let her go.

  Synar was waiting. Malachi—the demon who desired her—was waiting. And Ania and Gwen needed her help. But Shades of Kellnor, he didn’t want her to go.

  “This does not mean anything more than…we just…” Boca stammered, the words dying as she glared at Chiang, not wanting to leave with so much unsettled, so much unexplored. She ran a hand through his hair, then stroked his face.

  Boca finally stopped trying to talk, clamped her mouth shut and pressed her lips together to keep from saying something that would cause false hope.

  “I will be praying that the Creators bring you back to me,” Chiang said quietly, setting her back down and stepping back. “Now go while I can still let you.”

  Boca lifted her chin.

  “Let her?” she thought. While he could still let her. Chiang the Greggor was Rogan all over again.

  Well, she would not be controlled, no matter how appealing the male.

  “Wish for what you want, but I will not become your mate,” Boca warned, her voice firm, her tone uncompromising.

  Despite her furious glare, Chiang merely bowed his head to her respectfully. “Take care of yourself, Boca Ador,” he said calmly, fighting his urge to snatch her up again.

  She nodded once more, turned, and charged up the ramp, barely disappearing inside before the door closed.

  Chiang swore at how hard it had been to let her leave, then turned and ran to get out of the shuttle’s blast as it fired up all engines to full, preparing for flight.

  He barely made it back behind the vacuum shield as the Liberator’s docking-bay doors opened to let the shuttle out. Standing with both hands pressed against the transparent wall, Chiang watched the shuttle disappear into the darkness of space before dragging himself unwillingly back to the bridge.