The Siren's Call (Fantasy, Science Fiction, Romance) (FORCED TO SERVE) (29 page)

Chapter 19

Dorian sat with his face in his hands, contemplating what to do while his birth parent sighed heavily.

“Eli’oh, you’re being too critical of your actions—as usual,” Sarinnea said firmly. “Did Gwen seem upset? I can tell you she has not been so before now. Her crew whispers behind her back about how sweet she has been since you have returned.”

“I do not know what is truth. My head aches and my body is on fire. I can barely think in her presence, much less read her energy,” Dorian complained. “I don’t understand why she didn’t stop me.”

“An Earthling female stop a Siren male? A Siren’s mate stop him from claiming what he has made his in every way except physically? My child—there was no stopping you—or her, for that matter. Now stop brooding and admit the real problem,” she ordered, fist on her hip and glaring. “You’re upset because you don’t remember your first time with her.”

Dorian rose and stomped to the door of her room, turned back, and covered the distance in two steps. Sarinnea’s quarters weren’t even as big as his cage had been on Terris Rein.

“I’m upset because I’ve been using her as nothing more than…than…I cannot say the words and link them to her. It makes me ill to think I have abused her in such a manner,” Dorian declared with a swing of his long arm that Sarinnea had to duck because he was so close.

Sarinnea felt heat flood her face when the limit of her patience had been reached. Her answer to her child was a string of Siren swearing that had him cowering back and sliding out the desk chair to sit. She paced and lectured him on his Siren responsibilities to his mate, not letting him interrupt her.

When her temper was vented and her system had settled, she sighed and closed her eyes, returning to English because it served the higher purpose of slowing her thoughts.

“Dorian, look past your desire. For what purpose could the Creators have taken your memories? Was there a lesson to learn? Was it punishment? Was it to help Gwen in some manner? You are so caught up in what is not in your control to change, as are all things past, that I fear you are missing the point. Your mate—your very worthy mate, I might add—has accepted you, given herself over to you, and held nothing back. So stop your whining and go to her. Let go of your regret,” Sarinnea ordered.

Dorian took a deep breath, closed his eyes in return, and then bowed his head to the wisdom of his parent. It was the hardest concession he could remember making since the early days of his spiritual training.

“Thank you, Sarinnea. Will you perform a Siren mating ceremony for us later? Just for a few witnesses, not for the whole crew. I wish to make it formal before I—
Sherelaq
,” he swore. “On Earth, they call it a wedding. I want her to have one.”

Sarinnea sighed and ran a restless hand through her hair. “So long as we can do it today. I will also give my blessing. In fact, my wish to do so is much greater than with the other two females you mated.”

Dorian bowed his head again, relief sweeping through him. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome, child. Now go—see the female—find her and seek enough relief to function,” she ordered.

He headed for the door, barely noticing the male who leaned against the hallway outside. Dorian started to walk away, but something stopped him. When he turned back, the male straightened.

Walking back to stand in front of him, Dorian looked down on the Norblade male in wonder. First because he was able to so clearly read the male’s energy. But mostly because his birth parent had not mentioned the depth of her relationship to the male, even though Sarinnea’s energy marked him clearly as hers.

Dorian put out a hand. “Hello. I am Dorian Zade, Sarinnea’s child. It is a pleasure to meet my birth parent’s current partner.”

Jordon raised an eyebrow at the description the large, intimidating male put on his relationship to Sarinnea. But sensing no threat, he offered his hand. “I remember you quite well, Lieutenant. You do not remember helping rescue me?”

Dorian sighed at the further proof of his memory loss. “I remember being captured, then nothing more until today.”

Jordon nodded. “My name is Jordon Zelax. Your captors must have given you Argen Weed. It stifles higher thinking and somehow represses everything but your physical urges. Over time and continued use, memories are slowly erased. I was under its influence for many years myself. My last owner took me off of it because he expressly wanted to enjoy my discomfort at having to service a male.”

“Did your memories of lost time ever return?” Dorian asked, dropping the male’s hand when he realized he had been retaining it.

Jordon shook his head slowly. “No—but in my case, it was a blessing. Of my fifteen years in slavery, I have only the last few to forget. Your birth parent has been most compassionate in trying to heal me before I return to my planet.”

“Sarinnea is a very compassionate Siren,” Dorian said, searching Jordon’s gaze for his true feelings about his parent.

“Sarinnea is an extraordinary female in many regards,” Jordon replied, holding his gaze but keeping his reactions in reserve. It was only because of his other commitments that he couldn’t share them with Sarinnea. Since he couldn’t share them with her, he certainly wasn’t going to share them with her son.

“Excuse me, Jordon. I must go find my mate—Gwen,” Dorian said, looking off.

Jordon smiled. “Yes—of course. Another extraordinary female. I have to say you’ve done a remarkable job of making the commander happy this week. I can’t imagine that’s an easy task for the burden of responsibilities your mate bears.”

Dorian raised an eyebrow. “Gwen’s been happy? I mean—she has seemed this way to you?”

“Yes,” Jordon replied, seeing the concern in the Siren male’s gaze and wishing to lighten it. “Especially when that wrist unit timer goes off and she tears away from what she’s doing to run to see you. Nothing prevents her. She must value you above all else.”

Dorian stared, swallowed hard at what Jordon was sharing because it humbled him further, grateful for the male perspective just the same. “I appreciate your compassionate words. They are—much needed right now.”

Jordon reached out and patted his arm. “It is very little kindness compared to my rescue. If there is anything more I can do, just let me know.”

“There is something, actually. Be good to Sarinnea. She is not as tough as she acts,” Dorian said with a blooming smile.

“Being good to Sarinnea is like breathing for me. It is both necessary and a pleasure. I will miss her when it is my time to leave,” Jordon said, his eyes glazed with the knowledge.

“You can choose to stay with her,” Dorian suggested

Frowning, Jordon shook his head. “It is not possible at this time. Perhaps—well I don’t want to waste my time wishing. Good luck finding your mate.”

Dorian watched as Jordon waved his hand over the entry panel and walked through his birth parent’s door. He promised himself to look into the situation between Jordon and Sarinnea, just as soon as he could straighten out his situation with Gwen.

First he had to go to Medical and ask Chiang about Argen Weed.

Then he had to plan a wedding for his mate.

***

“This is ridiculous,” Gwen said, glaring at the females. “I’m by far the tallest and biggest female on the Liberator. Why don’t you just wrap a bed sheet around me and fasten it over one shoulder with a portable com unit? It will look just like the clothing Sarinnea wears all the time.”

Ania and Sarinnea looked at Gwen, both appalled at the idea of her wearing a bed sheet to her mating ceremony. Sarinnea also snorted at the subtle insult to her feminine attire.

“Not that you don’t look nice in your sheets, Sarinnea—I mean clothes—not sheets,” Gwen said quickly. “Dresses are just not the kind of thing a commander can wear on a ship. That’s why I don’t own any. Tell her, Ania.”

Ania laughed from the desk chair she’d nabbed the moment she’d come into the room. “I don’t know. Malachi says the ensigns keep hoping you’ll wear the slave girl outfit on the bridge again.”

“Too bad. It got recycled the day after I took it off,” Gwen retorted, glaring at Ania’s teasing.

Boca laughed as she sorted through Gwen’s shoes, coming up with the only non-uniform pair she could find. They were not much more than a series of straps but were at least female looking.

Gwen couldn’t remember ever wearing them and frowned when Boca knelt down to strap them onto her feet. She already felt on display standing in the middle of her old room completely naked except for her hygiene straps.

“Seriously, where are you going to get a dress big enough to fit me?” Gwen demanded, just as there was a knock on the door.

Gwen watched as Sarinnea glided to open it. The bursar was standing outside with an armload of pink fabric.

“Pink? Shades of Kellnor, what are you trying to do to me? On Earth, that is the color that marks an infant as female. I detest that color,” Gwen complained, exasperated at the insistence of the females in her room that she had to have a wedding dress for the ceremony Zade insisted they have. All she wanted was him back in her bed—or his bed. Hell, on the floor or standing in the middle of it. She no longer cared. It had been twelve hours now and she was tired of waiting.

Sarinnea accepted the armload of fabric from the bursar, gracing him with her most grateful Siren smile just before he turned and fled, unimpressed. It was obvious he did not want to hang around for his commander to try on the hasty dress he’d assembled. No doubt he didn’t want to hear all the fault finding she would do with work that he’d done in two hours that normally should have taken two days.

Sarinnea smiled as she carried the dress to Gwen and shook it out, holding it up for inspection. “Not as beautiful as I would have liked, but it will serve much better than a bed sheet.”

Gwen looked at the column of fabric, recognizing it at last. “You had the bursar make me a dress from the Rylen blanket Zade had stored in his clothing chest.”

“Yes. It was the blanket I lay on when I let his father impregnate me with Dorian. So I guess you could say the blanket was a family heirloom—of a sort. Dorian always favored it because it contained his father’s mating energy,” Sarinnea said wistfully. “I still miss that Greggor. Centuries have passed, and I’ve had many other males, yet I still miss him. I have many more blankets with his energy stored away on Rylen. When I return home, I will send Dorian a replacement.”

“Why in hell did you ruin Zade’s conception blanket for me—for this ceremony we don’t really need?” Gwen asked, shocked that Sarinnea would have done such a thing. She distinctly remembered the emptiness that had numbed her when Zade’s last robe had lost its traces of him.

“I did this because, like me, I am absolutely sure his Greggor father would have approved of you much more than his other mates. I wanted this day to be special. For Dorian, this will be almost like having his father there to welcome you into our family,” Sarinnea said.

“You really approve of me?” Gwen asked, bending to let Zade’s mother push the column of pink fabric over her head.

“Yes,” Sarinnea said, easing the entire dress past her shoulders.

Straightening, Gwen let it fall, and it slid down over her in a silky swish.

“Now I will give you a wedding gift from me,” Sarinnea said.

“Gift?” Gwen squeaked.

Sarinnea unfastened the jeweled belt she was wearing and deftly hooked it around Gwen’s waist, watching it sparkle and shine against the smooth pink. It was probably too feminine for a warrior, but she thought her son might appreciate the contrast. Dorian might not often see his mate looking so—female.

Gwen felt the belt catch her curves and marveled at how comfortable it was. The end contained a blue crystal pendulum jewel that swung neatly into the vee of her thighs. It gave Gwen a quiver of arousal every time she moved and the heavy jewel bumped against her nakedness beneath the thin cloth. Sarinnea had insisted she not wear anything under the dress, other than the hygiene straps Gwen insisted she needed.

“Now you need body adornments,” Ania mused. “Got any earrings? I didn’t bring anything with me from Pleiades. I guess I should ask my parents to send what is left of my belongings to the Liberator. Since I’m legally dead there, it’s doubtful I’ll be going back to my planet to live.”

Gwen sighed and looked at Boca. “In the bottom of my clothes chest is a wooden box with a lock on it. I’d get it, but I’m afraid I’ll rip the dress bending that far.”

Boca nodded and started digging until she found it. Taking the tiny box from Boca, Gwen put it on the bed. “Trouble is I lost the key to the lock,” she said, looking at Ania. “I don’t suppose you could open it, could you?”

“Do it yourself,” Ania ordered, giving Gwen a chastising look for even asking.

“It hurts when I do, damn it. I meant to ask you why, but I got distracted, and you are too injured to be fussed at—yet,” Gwen said.

Ania shrugged. “Using such a gift will always hurt some, but you will learn to bear that pain and much more before you finish your Khalsa training. This one should not hurt as much as a complicated Xendrin collar. It’s just a small lock.”

Gwen huffed and turned her glare on the box. She said the chant, grabbing her mid-section as she did so because the cramp was significant, but it didn’t make her ill. Sparing one glaring glance at the approving look on Ania’s face, she ripped the lock off and tossed it into the nearest waste collector for recycling.