“Dorian Eli’oh Zade—you should not—” Sarinnea saw his grin and stopped, unwilling to destroy his tentative smile with chastisement over being indiscreet.
“Yes?” he asked, waiting for the pronouncement he could almost see hovering on her tongue.
“You are a lucky male to have a female who speaks her mind about what she wants to do with you,” Sarinnea said instead, hoping Gwen and her son managed to work things out.
“Indeed. Today I feel lucky,” Dorian said, smiling in agreement as he walked into the bathroom.
Chapter 12
“The results are unknown,” Chiang said, peering into the container. “It should work, but I can’t be certain until it’s tested. It’s not my fault there’s no time to test it.”
“Unknown isn’t good enough. I did not kill those guards trying to save his host body only to have it destroyed by a defective stasis unit that you are unsure about,” Boca declared.
“It is not defective. That is not what I said,” Chiang yelled. “And what do you mean you killed guards? What guards? Are you talking about the life force all over that tunic you refuse to stop working for two minutes to take off?”
“We are not discussing my clothing,” Boca stated coldly. “Will this machine keep Malachi’s host body alive or not? If so, what is its effectiveness?”
“Were you not listening to me?” Chiang bellowed. “I. Don’t. Know.”
Malachi crossed his arms planning to wait out the fight. Normally it was enjoyable to listen to all the yelling and soak up the angry energy rolling off the debating entities in waves. But when Ania moaned he knew it meant she was fighting her way out of her drug-induced sleep. Pentanes might keep most creatures sedated for three days, but not a demon host. He uncrossed his arms, walked to the converted incubator, and lay down in it. He had to roll to his side and bend his knees since it wasn’t long enough for his body’s full length. Now he knew precisely what a growing creature in a womb endured.
“Time to stop arguing you two. If the body lives, good for me. If it doesn’t live, I have a home in Ania. Either way, you both have tried your best. Blah, blah, blah—thank you. Now let’s get on with it before Ania wakes up. I’d just as soon spare her the trauma of being awake and hurting,” Malachi said. “Plus I don’t think your captain could handle the strain of her continued suffering right now.”
Chiang swallowed hard and looked down at the glaring male in the incubator he’d converted. It reminded him too much of a Greggor burial chamber.
“You can leave the body any time. Your host body can be hooked up to life support afterwards. Once the lid is closed, the body should be preserved for a week or more if given the proper care.”
“Before a few weeks ago, I hadn’t had a body of my own in a thousand years. Your efforts to save it are appreciated, Chiang of Greggor. Now, Boca dear, let go of your warrior anger and be a healer for a little while. This is a risk that must be taken. Ania and I both need you to be a helpful little healer right now,” Malachi said, prying her hand off the edge. “Talk to Chiang later. Tell him about what you did with the guards. Be honest. It is a better way to deal with your situation.”
Boca nodded. “Yes—fine. We will take the risk. When should the knife be pulled from her?”
“Give me a few minutes. I’ll tell Liam—I mean, Captain Synar—when it’s time,” Malachi said, looking at both of his worried helpers, disgusted with himself for liking them. “Now don’t fight until I get back into my host body. I don’t want to miss anything good. It’s more fun for me to see and hear it.”
Chiang and Boca watched the black mist leave the body in the container and head to the female on the medical table. They had sent the other medics away so none would have to witness what Malachi was doing. But eventually all who worked in Medical were going to have to be told if Malachi was going to make a habit of being out of his host for long periods of time.
Boca hooked up the body to life support, while Chiang set the controls.
“I am finished,” she said finally, keeping her tone even and as devoid of emotion as possible.
Chiang nodded and set the dials, watching the numbers climb as the body entered a semi-cryonic state. By slowing down all the body’s functions, the stasis slowed down the decay. It wouldn’t stop it from happening eventually, but it would delay it for hopefully enough time to help Ania.
After the dials were set, Chiang looked at Boca, who was frowning at the body that was now in stasis.
“We will monitor the host body through even sleep cycles for a few days to be sure the machine is functioning properly. While we wait on Malachi to require us, can I clean your wound and find you a shirt that doesn’t make me ill? What you are wearing is very disturbing to my healing energy,” Chiang said, uncaring if his tone had reached the stage of sounding desperate.
“If you insist,” Boca said resentfully, walking to the table next to Ania and jumping up to sit on it.
She watched Captain Synar holding Ania Looren’s hand with closed eyes and a bowed head. Hips lips were moving. Praying, she realized. The strongest male on the Liberator was praying over the warrior female who was his mate. Most mates would just have been worried and angry. The captain could give lessons about being truly supportive.
Chiang brought cleaning supplies and the first aid kit over to her table. Under his arm was a clean tunic shirt. He whipped the privacy curtain closed around them.
“Now take off that filthy shirt,” he ordered, relieved to give voice to what he’d been wanting to command her to do.
“Remove it while you watch?” Boca hissed the question, narrowing her eyes.
“Yes—Shades of Kellnor—while I watch,” Chiang said stiffly, biting off his answer as he tried to restrain his resentment that she still questioned him. He had no rights to her. He knew that. But it felt like he did—or should.
“I will not believe you are unhurt until I have seen for myself. Now remove the soiled tunic before I do it for you,” Chiang demanded.
Whipping her shirt off over her head in frustrated obedience, Boca felt the air hit her skin and looked down to see one breast totally exposed where the hygiene strap had broken during her struggles to subdue the guards. She looked up just in time to see Chiang’s interested gaze taking it in, his face flushed with proof of his interest. The same interest that had offended her in the guard’s gaze now pleased her in the Greggor male’s.
And made her completely disgusted with herself. She lifted the broken strap to cover her arousal as much as her unclothed state.
Because he had been trained to think like an engineer as well as a healer, Chiang took a piece of wound sealing tape and repaired the hygiene strap she was holding in place over her formerly naked and perfect breast. His gaze searched the rest of her quickly for signs of injuries as he mended the broken strap, while a part of him dealt with his urge to strip the rest from her. The knot in his gut finally unwound when he found no evidence of harm other than a few bruises.
Keeping a tight rein on his reactions, Chiang picked up the clean tunic and held it over Boca’s head for her to slip on, amazed when she let him assist her in doing so. Her gaze on his was sharp, but also considering.
“Feel better now?” she asked, her tone sarcastic and bitter as he met her glare calmly, saying nothing bitter in return.
Chiang ignored her outburst and continued to treat her wounds. He kept his touch on her as gentle as possible, but couldn’t prevent the trembling in his hands. It was just the effect she caused in him.
Feeling his hands shaking against her cheek as he worked on her, her sharpness with him suddenly made Boca ashamed. When he applied the stinging cleaner to her cheek, a tear rolled down her face, but not because of pain. She regretted trying to hurt him. She regretted the distance between them. But she didn’t want to regret it. She simply wanted not to feel anything for the male in front of her at all.
Chiang ignored the emotion Boca was showing to finish cleaning the wound and gently a
pply a healing ointment to it.
“Done,” he said gruffly.
Then he pushed her knees apart and stepped between her legs to wrap his arms tightly around her, not asking permission because he didn’t need anything more than to feel her need to be consoled reaching out to him.
The sob she had held in echoed through his chest as Boca finally let go the energy of what she had suffered.
“I’m sorry to respond so poorly to your kindness,” she whispered between sobs.
“You’re not the first female to have done so. I doubt you will be the last,” Chiang said softly, shifting a surprisingly nonresistant Boca closer to him.
He ran a soothing hand down her neck and across her back, pulling her flush against him until her thighs almost surrounded his hips. As she hugged him, he was studying her neck, realizing he had never seen her hair down. He wondered how long it was. When Boca worked in Medical, her hair was always caught up and fastened behind her head.
His growing interest in her was soon obvious to them both, as he fit tightly between her legs and was not the size of male that could hide his reactions. Still, he merely leaned his forehead against hers, making no move to increase their intimacy—no matter how badly he wanted to.
“I knew you felt you had to go and I wouldn’t have stopped you. My only wish after you left was for your success and safe return. I know you probably won’t believe this, but I swear by the Creators that I value you above all other females. There have been no bonding partners for me since the day I met you and knew you were meant to be with me,” Chiang whispered, closing his eyes at her tiny moan of disbelief.
He couldn’t blame her for doubting him. He barely believed it himself, but every female’s face was now hers. There weren’t any substitutes.
“But I do not want a mate,” Boca whispered back.
“Yet another agreement between us. I do not want one either,” Chiang said sincerely. “But I still want you in any way you will give yourself to me. I need you.”
He felt her small but very strong hands bracket his face.
“Slaggika,” he heard Boca swear roughly, just before she sought his mouth urgently, the contact just as amazing as it had been the first time.
“You do not know me,” Boca warned against his now restless mouth beneath hers. “I am not what you see.”
“Then show me what you are, Boca Ador. You have shown your truth to Malachi, and he still wants you. If you eventually choose the demon to share your bed, so be it, but give me a chance as well,” Chiang said, his tone defiant.
“Bed the demon? I do not lust for Malachi’s host body,” Boca said bitterly. “I think of him only as a friend. If he does not cease trying to deceive others about our friendship, he will lose that as well.”
“Good news for me, but I don’t think he’s going to like to know it,” Chiang said, stepping away while it still was possible.
The female’s kisses made him very possessive. It was not a comfortable feeling. Now she had all but admitted she wanted him—and only him. Chiang was struggling not to let the knowledge go to his head.
“Good news? It is not really,” Boca replied, jumping down from the table. “I lust for you, Chiang of Greggor, but I don’t want you either. Denial of my needs is second nature to me after three hundred years. I’ve become accustomed to not having what I want.”
“Perhaps your fate is about to change,” Chiang suggested, risking a smile as he moved the curtains back.
“Probably not,” Boca said sternly, looking in disgust at the Medical tunic that fell to her knees. It was obviously meant for a male medic. Were there no reasonably sized female ones to be had on rescue ships? It was why she so often wore her own meager clothing.
“Do not be so hopeful, Chiang. I will be leaving shortly. After I am gone, I am sure you will go back to being your normal indiscriminate self.”
Chiang opened his mouth to retaliate, but stopped when Synar lifted his gaze to them.
“It’s time. Malachi says to pull the knife out now,” he said
Chiang walked around the table and looked at the knife protruding from Ania’s back, wondering what direction to pull it out on exit and how much bleeding there would be. Would they need to suture the wound?
He started to ask Boca to get some bandages when she walked past him, examined the blade area, and pulled the knife out cleanly with one movement. Ania’s body flinched once but settled into quiet again.
Boca held up the wet knife and studied its blade in the light. “Good. It’s just a Zenos short sword. No poison carriage attached, but the Ceruse metal itself is poison to some. If she is affected, the weakness will linger in her body for several weeks.”
Looking down at the wound area, they both saw there was very little bleeding. Chiang took a wet cloth from the prep kit nearby and dabbed at the small amount of seepage. Boca found a tray and laid the knife in it, leaving it soiled.
“In case we need to know about the wound,” she said, answering the unspoken question in Chiang’s gaze on it.
“How is she?” Synar asked them finally, stroking Ania’s fingers with his, jerking when he felt her movement.
“Liam? What happened to me?” Ania asked drowsily. “My back feels like it’s on fire. Did I get shot with a stunner again?”
Synar smiled into her deep blue eyes clouded with pain but fired up with irritation. “No—I wish it had been a stunner. You were stabbed this time.”
“Stabbed? Is the one who did it dead?” she asked tiredly.
“Worse than just dead,” he answered. “Malachi turned him into micro dust.”
“Why would Malachi be so extreme over something he knows I don’t even remember happening? I told him not to do that anymore,” Ania said wearily.
“Sorry,” Synar told her. “I countermanded your niceness directive and ordered your attacker’s death. The demon master rules when the demon host is unconscious. Next time, don’t get caught if you’re in the mood to spare your attackers.”
He knew she was going to make it when she sputtered indignantly and tried to laugh at his statements.
“I guess I don’t need to ask where Malachi is right now,” Ania said softly. “As drugged as I feel, I can still sense him doing things inside me. He better not be messing with any of my memories again.”
Synar laughed, but her comments reminded him of Dorian’s dilemma.
“I am sure Malachi is too busy fixing your knife wound to get into very much trouble at the moment. Why don’t you sleep now? Let the drugs have you a little longer. Thank you for not returning to the Creators. I would have grieved you until my death, and there is no time in my schedule at the moment.”
“You are joking to cover your fear. Perhaps Malachi was not the only one afraid. Why don’t you come kiss me and reassure us both?” Ania demanded, tugging weakly on his fingers as she rolled almost to her back.
Synar stood and bent to gently brush his lips over hers. “You are everything to me, Ania Looren. More important than even my ship. I left it to Chiang and the ensigns while I came to rescue you.”
“Wow—you must have really been worried,” Ania said. “How close to death was I?”
“Not even that close. It was just a painful life lesson for me to learn that even with all the power you possess, you were not completely safe,” Synar told her.
“Liam, I learned that lesson long ago. I do not know why I didn’t perceive their treachery beforehand,” she whispered, lifting a hand to his jaw.
“I know why, but that discussion can wait until you are well enough to hear it,” he said, trying not to let his tone reveal how set his intention was on having his will be manifested in the future, at least his will concerning his ship and its crew.
“Fine—then tell me of the others instead. Did we all survive?” Ania asked.
He perched on the edge of the bed, noticing that she rolled even more to her back. Malachi was working fast now that the knife was out.
“As I understand it,
Gwen freed herself from captivity. While that was happening, Dorian freed himself and stumbled across her as he followed their mating cord. Together they found Sarinnea and a Norblade male that Sarinnea refused to leave behind. By the way, did you teach Gwen to curse metal?” he asked.
Ania laughed. “Hard to say. I gave her the word, but you know how she is.”
Synar laughed back. “You’ll be glad to know your teaching worked.”
“Good,” she said firmly, closing her eyes. “Dorian is safe then?”
“Safe—but…” Synar paused. “He does not know who he is. Gwen has been keeping him close and making sure he stays…calm.”
“Very wise of her. Have you seen a male Siren with no control over his energy?” Ania said. “They are like raging beasts. It is why they abstain from inebriation.”
“So far the only person he’s threatened is Chiang. Apparently some of the Greggor’s energy is still in Gwen’s aura. Dorian still has his intuitive gifts, but very little control over the course they take,” Synar said, stroking the strained muscles of her face, surprised when it creased in laughter again.
“What’s so funny about that?” he asked.
“I am wicked. I was just thinking Dorian and Gwen are a more perfect match now. I hope I heal fast enough not to miss all the fun. May the Creators help those of us who have to deal with them though,” Ania said on a snort, then her voice got serious. “His memory will return in time. It must.”
“Aye—it must,” Synar agreed solemnly. “Now will you rest while I go relieve Gwen? She’s been stuck on the bridge in her slave outfit. The ensigns probably can’t take much more temptation. Most of them have not bonded with any of the females onboard.”
Ania laughed again and closed her eyes. “Does Conor’s body still live?”
“The host body is fine,” Chiang announced, walking up to Ania and laying a hand on her to draw her attention to him. “Good to have you back, Ania Looren.”
“Good to be back, Lieutenant. Working in Medical again?” she asked.
Chiang started checking her vitals and noticed Boca lifting the covers to straighten them around Ania’s limbs. Whispering healing words, he slid a hand under her shoulder and sent energy into the wound while Boca rubbed her legs to ease her tension. After a short time, he stopped chanting and answered her question.
The Siren's Call (Fantasy, Science Fiction, Romance) (FORCED TO SERVE) Page 13
