The Healer's Kiss: Book Four of the Forced To Serve Series (16 page)

“In fact, I would say you and I are kindred spirits of a sort, Lieutenant. We feel in competition with everyone. I imagine you fight most fiercely when roused as well.”

“Indeed I do,” Seta agreed, coming to inspect her sister’s mark. “How long are you planning to hold Rena’s arm and blow on ink that is already dry? If you are quite done fondling her, I would like to seek food before having to prepare for my bridge duty this evening.”

“Seta, stop that,” Rena warned, hearing the brash tempered female winding up for a round of complaining about having to do bridge duty. “Can you not see he is almost finished?”

Malachi laughed softly again, but he finally dropped her arm. “I’m not nearly finished with you, but I suppose this will have to do for now. I would not risk earning your sibling’s ire because of her empty stomach.”

“Would you like to come to the evening meal with us, Medic?” Seta asked pointedly, just to see Rena glare at her in disbelief over the invitation.

Malachi smiled, not missing Seta’s attempt to win at sibling rivalry if not at holding his interest. “Thank you for the kind offer, but I have night duty myself. I have to go prepare. Enjoy your evening, Lieutenant. Rena, blessings on your journey.”

He watched Rena straighten in surprise at his formal well-wishing. Nodding to each of them separately, and holding Rena’s gaze longer than was necessary or polite, Malachi finally looked away as he slipped quietly out their door.

Rena reached out and smacked Seta in the shoulder. “Provoking the medic was quite unnecessary.”

Seta laughed. “Do you know how extremely happy it makes me to see my stoic sister being the one pursued by an inappropriate male? That is almost worth coming to this dreadfully tiny ship to see. I can’t believe I am envious of you for once.”

Rena let out the frustrated breath she had been holding. The Demon of Synar’s presence always unnerved her, but Seta could never know that. Complaining would not help distract Seta.

“Malachi’s attention is not a problem for me,” Rena declared firmly.

“If the Norblade male’s attention meant nothing, you wouldn’t already be saying his real name,” Seta replied, holding the door open for her irritated sibling. “You are Ethosian and not given to quick familiarity. You never even used Warro’s name on the Paladin. You called him ‘arrogant captain’ and ‘insufferable male’ all the time.”

“That was a completely different situation—trust me,” Rena said tightly.

“Rena, listen to yourself. Why can’t you just admit that those vows you took are unnatural? For all its negative points, one positive of my new position is that the Liberator is full of attractive and unmated males. There are many who might be appropriate for even you. Lots of Greggors, Rena. I know you like Greggors. I see you stealing looks at the doctor all the time.”

“The doctor is meant for the Sumerian healer. And I have no need of any male,” Rena said. “You may have them all, Seta. Find a bonding partner and enjoy yourself. Life can be fleeting, especially serving on an active rescue ship.”

“In good time I will find one that pleases me,” Seta declared. “One day I’ll figure out how to move past the aversion I have for taking a bonding partner. For now, I will just enjoy living vicariously through you as you handle Malachi’s infatuation.”

“He is
not
infatuated with me,” Rena denied.

“He most certainly is,” Seta argued. “And Malachi Synar is a good-looking male for a Norblade. Do you not think so?”

Rena could not lie outright. The denial wouldn’t leave her tongue. “Cease your teasing debate. It serves no good for either of us.”

“I have never seen you show the least bit of interest in a male on all the ships we’ve been on. It is very entertaining to watch you return one’s interest,” Seta said.

Rena’s tongue loosened then. “I am not returning his interest. Physical things are only temporary. They matter not to the endless spirit.”

“You just keep telling yourself that, Rena,” Seta said, pointing in the direction they needed to go. She had figured out the Liberator’s entire layout in the first hour onboard. “I know what I saw. I thought for a moment there the medic was going to lick your face. He was eyeing your neck and ear very suspiciously. And he was all but leaning on you. I didn’t see you pulling your arm free when he was blowing his hot breath on it either. I got very tingly when he did that to me. Are you going to lie about your own reaction?”

“You are imagining all manner of things that are not true,” Rena denied, frowning at the memory of Malachi whispering in her ear. It lingered still in her mind as much as his demon breath lingered in Seta’s.

The physical form she was in hadn’t been handled by a male in many years until just before the spirit reached the crisis point and left it. Why was she even allowing the demon’s attention to unsettle her? She could control the urges of the physical body she was in, even if she had not been corporeal this long in centuries.

And
leaning
? What did that mean? It was nothing—an inclining of the body. Why was Seta trying to worry her about Malachi’s intentions?

To be safe, Rena searched the storied memories of her host body for bonding preliminaries but came up with nothing. When the original Rena Trax had returned to the Creators, she had taken the best of her life’s memories with her. All that remained in the cell memory of her abandoned physical form were the much less pleasant ones of the final male who had given her to a group for their use.

“Well, don’t let Malachi do anything to the tips of your ears,” Seta warned. “He’ll figure out your control center and have you begging for bonding in three seconds. I don’t think the irreverent medic would be worth you breaking your vows.”

“At last, we agree on something,” Rena said, sighing when she heard Seta laugh.

Chapter 10

“How tight is the fit?” Chiang asked, studying her gaze to make sure she was being truthful with him.

“It is only a little uncomfortable,” Boca replied dryly, putting her hands over his, which were exploring her neck, chin, and chest. Chiang’s innocent touch today made her just as nervous as the first time he had put his large hands on her. “Isn’t it supposed to be tight?”

“Yes. Too much movement will rub and cause a friction rash,” Chiang explained, walking to the work bench. “Comfort is important. I intend for you to wear the Xendrin collar the whole time we are on Lotharius. We may be there for days. If we need to escape in a hurry, the explosives hidden in it might be necessary.”

“It contains explosives?” Boca asked, swallowing at how much tighter it felt just knowing that fact.

“None are in it at the moment. And they require a considerable amount of force to use, so they will not go off accidentally,” Chiang said, frowning at her alarm.

Boca held his gaze for a few long moments, the trepidation Chiang always felt about the mission within it. “If that is the case, then I shall wear the collar continuously for the next few days to get used to it.”

She picked up the remote and walked it to Chiang, holding it out for him to take. “Here. Test the current flow to make sure it works.”

Chiang shook his head. “No need. It was set for Gwen, and I have dialed it down a bit more. Actually—it’s on the lowest setting that still emulates a real collar.”

Boca shook the remote at him. “Test it. I am ready this time and prepared for the pain. I believe you have done all you can to spare me as much as possible, but I want to master this.”

Irritated at her command, Chiang took the remote and pressed it instantly, flinching as Boca gasped, her hands flying to the collar. He tossed the remote on the bench and turned his back on her efforts to recover.

“I hate this,” he announced, his tone as harsh as he felt.

Ignoring the feeling that her head was going to explode, Boca lifted her chin and walked to Chiang’s side, standing where she could look up at him. “We are only doing what has to be done. As you said, I was not harmed by the surge. It’s just an adjustment for me to feel the pain. I can learn to bear it.”

“Yes, let us learn to bear the pain,” Chiang said fiercely, his tone laden with sarcasm over her bravery. “We wouldn’t want two Guardian level airships to bring a few thousand warriors in to do the dirty work. No, let’s send two medics and put them in danger instead.”

He turned away from her disappointed expression and slammed a hand down on the work bench, making all the tools on it jump. “There are ways to handle this mission other than sending you back to be a captive again.”

“Such an attitude serves no purpose, Chiang. You know the risk of the high ambassador’s daughter being harmed is too great to take until we have determined her location. Once we locate her, then thousands of Peace Alliance warriors will arrive and change the situation for the other captive females,” Boca declared.

“Aye—I know you believe this will happen,” Chiang said fiercely. “I am not sure I share your faith in the Peace Alliance.”

“I have no doubt it will come to pass. Now test the Lotharian device in your hand. Remind me of what I endured so I can learn to cope again,” Boca ordered, crossing her arms as she returned his glare of frustration, but for a different reason.

Chiang looked at his palm and the neatly sown line of stitches Boca and Malachi had given him over the controller. The neatly sewn ridge of folded skin in the center of his palm made hitting the exact point very easy and very precise. It also helped him not to hurt her accidentally. He just had to avoid pressing the raised area.

“Is this really necessary?”

“Yes. You know it is,” Boca said flatly. “We cannot trust that I will fake it well enough. The experience will remind me why I am there trying to stop them. Do it.”

Chiang curled his fingers to his palm, pressed the pressure point, and down Boca went to the floor, doubled over and gasping, the shock of the wires obviously surprising to her after being free of it for so long. Closing his eyes to search for the strength to bear her suffering, he swore using every Greggor term he knew.

“Okay. It still works like it always did. Now help me up,” she ordered, lifting her hand to Chiang whose face had drained of life force color the moment she hit the floor. “It merely takes the energy from your legs until you get used to it happening. I used to have to prepare meals while my captor tortured me so I would move faster.”

Chiang walked to her, pulling her up with his other hand. His swearing in Greggor over her shared memory filled the area with his angry energy, but he could not stop himself from expressing the distress churning violently in his gut.

“It was not that painful, Chiang. Truly. Most of my reaction just now was surprise. I want to repeat this exercise tomorrow and every other day we remain here to build a tolerance,” Boca said.

Chiang nodded, unable to let go of her hand yet. “Fine. Right now, I need to hold you and reassure myself you do not believe I would ever willingly cause you harm.”

Not wanting to argue over meeting his emotional needs or soothing him, Boca lifted her arms obediently and Chiang caught her up. Her feet left the floor, and the next thing she knew, her butt was sliding back on the cold metal work bench. It was in direct contrast to the heat being generated by the angry Greggor in her arms.

Chiang stepped between her legs and pulled her forward immediately until the top of her was flattened against his chest and her crotch was pressed against something far more interesting rising over the edge of the table.

She kept forgetting how tall he was, as well as how very male he was. She also kept forgetting how much she was beginning to want him until he put his hands on her. At that moment, a large shaking hand brushed down the length of her back and then moved in circles over every inch of her, including rubbing each shoulder. Boca thought of the mark she had there that she had yet to show him and had to push the guilt aside.

“Are you going to be able to deal with this?” Boca asked. “I mean no criticism of your efforts. I just want to remind you that it’s not too late for someone else to go.”

“No one else is going. That would be even worse than having to shock you myself. I will do what I must,” he said bitterly. “But I…”

Boca heard English change to Greggor and got a bad feeling. Lately she had begun wearing the translator pin Gwen had given her, so in her mind she now saw images of Chiang’s concerns about physically harming her. She could think of only one way to ease his level of male torment.

Grabbing his now shorter hair at the back, cut to the standard length worn by Lotharians and most other males, Boca put her lips over his, whispering reassurances of her trust in him, but she did so in the Sumerian tongue she knew he didn’t understand. She couldn’t bring herself to say the words in English yet.

“I miss your longer hair,” she said instead.

“How much?” he asked, whispering the question against her lips. “Do you find me unattractive now?”

Soon she realized Chiang was docilely letting her kiss him, taking no action other than to bracket her hips with his hands. He leaned his forehead against hers when she pulled away. It was not the kind of reaction that would liberate his energy—also not the one she felt building inside him.

“I still desire you—if that is your question. Kiss me back,” Boca demanded.

Chiang kept his forehead on hers and his eyes shut tight. “Only if you let down your hair for me,” he ordered in return, giving himself time to calm, and to see if she would do as he asked. “One day I will tell you how I feel about it in great detail.”

He bent his face to her throat, pleased when her hands left his hair and went to her own. As soon as her hair tumbled down her back, Chiang wrapped a hand in it and used it to tug her head back and up to his. Normally she would have argued or at least glared at his aggression. Her silent compliance ignited something primitive in him.

“Having you in my arms makes me remember that I am a Greggor and a male with great needs. There are many things I wish to do to you,” Chiang said roughly. “Some of them might even cause a bit of pain because of the difference in our sizes. None require causing you the level of suffering I just did, which will always make me ill no matter how many times I have to do it.”