Slave (7 page)

“I am Carkdacund Tshevnoe,” he replied, taking my hand in a firm, warm grasp. He was recovering quickly, it seemed. “But you may continue to call me Cat.”

“Thanks,” I said, grateful for not having to wrap my tongue around a handle like that every time I spoke to him! “What the hell do your friends call you for short?”

“I have no friends,” he stated simply. His voice held no expression of regret. It was merely a statement of the truth.

“Sorry,” I muttered ruefully. “Should have thought about that before I opened my damned mouth.” I heaved a sigh and added: “My friends call me Jack, but you can call me anything you like.”

“Jacinth is a very beautiful name,” he observed, and, you know, it really
did
sound beautiful the way he said it—almost like it had more letters in it or something.

“Yeah, I know,” I grumbled. “Too bad it doesn’t suit me. I think I look more like a Jack, myself.”

“I disagree,” he said. “To me, you look like a Jacinth.

I will call you that.”

Which was about the nicest thing anyone had said to me for quite some time—perhaps ever. I did my best not to let it show, though. “Sure,” I said with a nonchalant wave of my hand. “Whatever.”

Standing as close to him as I was now, and without the benefit of a respirator, my nose told me that a bit of
washing up might be in order. I just hoped I didn’t have to do that for him, too, but was surprised when just the idea of bathing him gave me a little twinge of…well, I don’t know exactly what you’d call it, but suffice it to say that it revised my opinion of whether or not I would refuse to do it should it ever become necessary.

Clearing my throat and backing out of range of whatever it was about him that was making me
not
want to move away, I said briskly, “Okay, then, Cat, why don’t you go get cleaned up a little and I’ll fix you something to eat. What would you like?”

He looked up at me as though I’d completely taken leave of my senses. “I was a slave up until a short time ago,” he reminded me, “and I have not eaten in two days.

I will eat anything you give me.”

“Silly me!” I commented dryly. “Well, it looks like you’ll be an easy keeper, at least. And you don’t seem to like wearing clothes much, so I won’t be having to buy you a very extensive wardrobe, either.” I was thinking of something along the lines of maybe, say, a loincloth and a vest at the very least, but, actually, I think it would have taken an awful lot more than that to camouflage his appeal.

“I have been in armor or restraints for most of my life,” he said. “I think I would like to feel free to wear nothing for a while, if you do not object.”

“No,” I lied. “It won’t bother me a bit. Just let me know if you get too cold.”

He nodded and went to take a shower. I would have to remember to put some of the Derivian ointment on the sores on his back when he was clean and dry. And
while he was gone, I thought perhaps I should turn down the temperature on the environmental controls.

Maybe if he got a bit chilly, he’d at least put on a tunic—a really
long
tunic.

Slave 221107.qxd 1/30/08 4:36 PM Page 57

CAT STAYED IN THE SHOWER FOR A LONG TIME. AT SOME

point I’d have to tell him that, though the water supply was recycled, it took a little while and he might run out at some point if he stayed in there forever. But since it was possibly the first bath he’d had in years, I figured I’d let him enjoy it, at least this once. Apparently he didn’t have the aversion to water that some Earth cats did, and it made me wonder just how many feline characteristics he had in common with them—did he purr, for example, and what would it take to make him do it?

I took him some shampoo while he was in there—it was the stuff I used myself whenever I happened to spend a little too much time around someone that I suspected had lice of some form. This was another commodity that I’d bought several cases of, and it sells well, too, especially on these dirty little back worlds like Orpheseus. I didn’t have anything on hand to take out his tangles since my own short hair didn’t require it, and I hoped we wouldn’t have to end up chopping off those long tresses because I thought they would be quite attractive when they were clean. Maybe I’d have to comb it out for him—I could do it while he ate. After all, once you’ve pulled a ring out of a man’s cock, combing his hair should be no big deal. Besides, I didn’t have anything better to do while we flew to Statzeel, since
apparently I didn’t need to find another planet to drop him off on after all.

I heated up some more of the stew I’d had for dinner and set it out for him, wondering if he would use a spoon or eat it right out of the bowl. I’d seen some strange eating rituals during my sojourn in space; maybe I’d have to teach him how to use a knife and fork, too. After all, he’d said he would eat anything; he just didn’t say
how
….

I’d seen the man naked, restrained, unconscious, sexually aroused, angry, terrified, and in pain, but I was wholly unprepared for just how incredibly good he would look right after coming out of the shower. The mere sight of him took my jaded, cynical, and completely unromantic breath away, and it was all I could do to point out the food that was waiting for him on the table. Cat didn’t seem to notice my sudden afflic-tion, but merely smiled and pulled his hair back over his shoulders as he sat down to eat. I did have enough wits left to notice that he seemed to know how to use a spoon, but the rest of what I saw was pure animal attraction.

I drifted back over to the pilot’s console and sat back, toying with my flight controls, but not really doing anything in particular while I watched him eat.

Hungry as he must have been, I noted that he didn’t wolf down his food, but sat there quietly savoring every mouthful. The stew was decent, but it wasn’t
that
good and it made me wonder just what kind of garbage he’d been living on.

After studying him carefully, I came to the conclusion that if he were a typical specimen, then his people must have all been downright beautiful. As a general rule, I’d
found most aliens to be unattractive, if not repulsive on the whole, but this one was decidedly the opposite, for, in addition to the other attributes which I have already described, his hair was the shiniest, blackest mass of spiral curls I’d ever seen on any native of any planet in any system. It was thick and luxuriant and made my fingers itch to delve into it, but I was denied that treat because he’d managed to get the tangles out all by himself and had even dried it using my handy-dandy Insta-Dry shower attachment that pulls the evaporated water back in to be recycled. He wasn’t too stupid if he could figure out how
that
thing worked; I’d had to try twice before figuring it out myself.

Unfortunately, being clean and dry made his wounds and scars that much more prominent. He was nearly finished eating when I finally gave in to temptation and picked up the tube of Derivian ointment from where I’d laid it and went over to put some of it on the open sores on his back, firmly telling myself that I was
not
doing it just because I wanted to touch him. I had to move his hair out of the way to get to some of the sores and discovered that those curls truly felt every bit as good as they looked. I stood behind him, breathing in his essence, noting that whatever had smelled bad on him before was now completely gone. The funny thing was that I couldn’t actually smell anything, but it did something to me anyway; and after the stench of Orpheseus Prime, he was a welcome change.

I had applied the ointment to all of his wounds and was recapping the tube when he got slowly to his feet and turned around to face me. “You forgot a place,” he said.
Seemingly of their own accord, my eyes swept downward to follow the treasure trail of dark curls down to his groin. The spot to which he was referring was patently obvious, for his penis was fully erect and a droplet of blood had oozed from the site where his piercing had been. Surely he wouldn’t insist that I do that as well!

He gazed down at me with those dark, but glowing, eyes and blinked slowly. He was so much more attractive now that he was relaxed and comfortable, and his nostrils flared ever so slightly, just as they had done when I’d been standing close to him in the plaza. Whatever it was that he had smelled then to arouse him in such a fashion, he must be catching whiffs of right now.

What was it the Cylopean had said? A receptive female in the area? Oh, surely not! I chided myself. No one’s sense of smell could be
that
good!—could it? And I certainly wasn’t receptive—was I?

Then another of my questions about him was answered, for—honest to God!—he began to purr. He gestured toward his cock, and I pulled the cap off of the tube of ointment and held it out to him.

“No,” he said, still purring softly, “do it for me, if you will.”

I felt as though I were in some sort of trance and he was controlling me by the power of suggestion alone—I mean, I can’t explain why I would have done what I did otherwise. Reaching down, I applied a small amount to the affected area and my eyes widened as his cock pulsed beneath my fingers.

“It has been too long since I have felt the gentle touch of a female hand,” he murmured. “Too long.”
Oh, how on Earth could I have been so stupid? Of
course
, any slave I bought would have been deprived of any pleasant experiences! He probably hadn’t been with a woman in years, and now, here I was, alone on my ship with him! He was clean and well-fed and comfortable for the first time in who knew how long; the only thing missing was the sex. This was a factor I hadn’t considered when making my plans for Ranata’s rescue.

I couldn’t afford to let it happen, though, because sex
always
clouded my judgment, making me botch the simplest of tasks and blow every deal I was involved in.

This was definitely
not
the time to be making mistakes, for too much hung in the balance. I cleared my throat quietly.

“Perhaps we can find you a mate on Statzeel,” I suggested, hoping my tone was more casual than my nerves were. “If the one I saw myself was any indication, their women are all very beautiful.” I felt another twinge of pain in my heart when I uttered those words. It shouldn’t have hurt me to say that, but, for some reason, it did.

“I would not want a mate who was my slave,” he said quietly. “I would want someone like you, who was free and who wanted me.” He studied me carefully with those gleaming eyes and inhaled again, as though rechecking my scent to assure himself that he had gotten it correctly.

His purr grew louder as he breathed more deeply. “You do want me, do you not?”

My mouth went completely dry and my voice came out with a croak. “You can’t possibly know that,” I protested weakly. “I—I’m human. Have you ever met a human before?”
He shook his head. “Not before this,” he said. “But the scent of desire is thick around you. So thick I can almost feel it.”

I shook my head. Ranata, I reminded myself. Ranata must be saved! I can’t lose sight of that now. Not when I’m so close…. “You’re wrong,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t desire any man. I…can’t. And especially not now.”

His purr intensified and he stepped closer, the flared head of his cock nearly brushing against my hand.

“Touch me again, Jacinth,” he purred. “I want to feel your hands on me. We saved each other today: you bought me and freed me, and I kept my old master from killing you. We should come together and rejoice in the knowledge that we are both still alive.”

And suddenly, there it was again: that cloud, that fog in my brain that disturbed my normally well-ordered senses. I simply could not let myself fall victim to it! It could only cause me pain, for I knew he wouldn’t want me again—not once he saw my sister, anyway. No man ever did, and he was no different from all the rest. I could not let myself be destroyed that way, not again, and especially not now.

“Yes, we’re still alive,” I conceded, “and I thank you for what you did for me, but my sister is still a slave and a prisoner. I can’t let myself forget that, not even for a moment.”

And with that, I turned away from him and retreated to the pilot’s chair once more. I was Jack Rutland, I reminded myself. Captain of the
Jolly Roger.
I had deals to make and a sister to rescue. I didn’t need a big
pussycat to curl up with—no matter how attractive he was, or how good he smelled, or how fabulous he felt beneath my fingers. He would mess up my brain and fill it full of mush. I’d end up blowing everything and probably end up in slavery myself. Not that anyone on Statzeel would want me—though I’d probably be the type of slave that a man would leave at home to scrub the floors while he went out and paraded around town with one of his more beautiful possessions.

Of course, that way, at least I wouldn’t have to fight it anymore. I’d just do as I was told and not have to worry about where I was going, or who I could find to give me information about my sister, or try to find another planet to search. I could simply work my tired fingers to the bone for the rest of my life and then die. I sighed deeply, thinking that it would almost be a relief, even a blessing in disguise. I wondered if Ranata felt the same way, or if she despaired of ever being found, much less of being rescued. Closing my eyes, I could see her quite clearly in my mind. Once more the terror in her eyes haunted me.

No, I couldn’t stop now, couldn’t ever stop. Not until I found her and she was safe once more. Cat would simply have to get over it. I tried to blot out all that I was feeling, resting my forehead on the heel of my hand as though the pressure of it would force all the unwanted thoughts from my mind.

It was then that I discovered another thing about my shipmate that was very cat-like, for without all of those restraints dangling from his body, he could move without a sound. I had no warning that he was close until I felt his hands on my back.
“We will find your sister, Jacinth,” he said firmly, as he began to massage my shoulders. I know I should have insisted that he stop touching me, but it felt so damn good I had to bite my lip to keep from letting out a groan. “Have you any personal belonging of hers?”