Wicked Beloved (14 page)

* * *

She could tell something weighed upon his
mind all that evening. He was pleasant and talkative enough, but
occasionally she’d catch his eyebrows slightly crinkled, with an
unfamiliar melancholy lurking behind his eyes, before he’d notice
she was looking at him and turn away.

Was he concerned about
having offended the senator?
Shit
. Offended, nothing. He’d broken
two of the man’s fingers. Of course he was having second
thoughts.

He was staring out the big window now,
gazing at the stars but not really seeing them, if her assessment
of his pensive countenance was correct.

“You wouldn’t ever trade me in, would you?”
The words tumbled out. She bit her lip, hoping the question
wouldn’t anger him.

“Hmmm?” She watched him gather his thoughts,
returning to the present, and yet when he fixed his steely gaze
upon her she was as overpowered by it as if she had been completely
unprepared for his attention.

“You wouldn’t…uh…trade me in for a newer
model or something, right?”

The hard thin line of his mouth softened.
“There is no chance of that occurring.”

“Oh good.”
Such glorious relief
.

“Because you are returning to your planet,”
he continued.

“I was worried—wait. What?”

“I am sending you back to your home
world.”

That was not how this conversation was
supposed to go. He was supposed to say something like how he
couldn’t live without her. Or at least that he cared for her a
little bit.

When she failed to respond he continued,
“You do not belong here. You believe killing and cruelty are wrong,
and aspire to kindness for its own sake. Your emotions encompass
everything I lack.”

“That’s not true,” she interrupted. “You
feel….”

He held up a hand, stopping her. “You remain
here and my darkness will contaminate you.”

“But I don’t want to leave.”

“Pardon?”

“I don’t want to leave. I want to stay with
you.”

“No…”

“Hey, it’s my choice.”

“No, actually, it is not. Any choice you
make now is made under duress, even if you do not feel that it is.
Your brain—”

“I know, I know. Stockholm syndrome. That’s
not what this is.”

He strode over to her. “Assuming that phrase
means brainwashing, you do realize that’s precisely what a
brainwashing victim would say?”

She threw her arms up in annoyance. “That’s
not fair. I can’t win.”

“Correct.” He placed his forefinger against
her lips, stilling her next protest. “If I were to die on a
mission…. Now that Senator Wrall has targeted you….” He shook his
head impatiently and began again. “I have sworn you shall not be
hurt. The only method of ensuring my word is kept is to return you
to your planet.”

“Okay, I release you from your vow. And I
just won’t go. That’s all there is to it.” She crossed her arms,
feeling like a petulant stamped foot would not be out of place.
This was ridiculous. He couldn’t send her away like this, like it
didn’t matter. He had feelings for her, she knew that. Somehow,
even on this twisted planet, he had developed feelings for her. And
she loved him. Earth was a barren rock compared to being with
him.

“Senator Wrall—”

This time it was her turn
to interrupt. “Wrall’s
my
enemy. He’s my risk to run. If I don’t mind
chancing it to stay with you, you should support me.”

Instead of answering, he gathered her into
his arms and kissed her. She melted against him, though aware this
argument was far from over.

* * *

“Why the spaceport?” She laughed and
Dzer-Jin would miss that pleasant sound as surely as he would miss
his trigger finger if it were removed. “There must be better places
for lunch.”

Her smooth, warm hand in his, he led her
into a secluded alcove, away from the bustle of the loading lanes.
“See that shuttle?” He pointed toward the little purple craft at
the end of the near dock. “That is the first step on your journey
back to your planet.”

She looked up at him as if her translating
collar had stopped working.

He cupped her face in his hands and tried to
memorize her countenance. “Go home. I free you. Be happy on your
Earth.”

“But I thought—no! I want to stay with you.”
Her words were practically a wail.

“My life is no place for you. We’re too
different, you and I.”

“I could be more like you,” came her rapid
reply.

“I would not want that.”

“You’ve already shown me how kind you can
be. I know we can make this work. Please.”

“I do not deserve your loyalty. You should
reside in a place that values what you value, with a mate of your
own kind.”

“And what if I don’t want that? What if I
want you?”

“Ticket’s paid, and her quarters are set.”
Beaming a cheery grin, Lagi strode up to them, right on time for
Dzer-Jin’s pre-planned rendezvous. “Everyone knows she’s under your
protection and they’ve promised to treat her like the Queen of
Cthala.” He clapped his hands together. “All ready to go, then,
Tellurian?”

“Yes, she’s ready.” Dzer-Jin declared before
she could respond and, with the speed and force of long practice,
he punched her on the side of her chin.

The force of the blow spun her and she
collapsed to the ground in a loose-limbed, unconscious heap.

For a few seconds he and Lagi were as still
and silent as she was. Then Lagi broke the silence.

“Why’d you do that?”

“She must go back to her
home world. She
must
.”

He turned and caught sight of Lagi’s mouth
opening and closing a few times, like he was debating whether or
not to speak his thoughts.

“What?”

Lagi sighed. “You don’t want to know.”

“What?” Dzer-Jin snapped again.

“All right. I think…now, don’t get angry,
but I think…you might have a pair-bond here. No, wait, hear me out.
I know it’s an aberration, but something like ten percent of the
population have the bent toward pair-bonding.”

Dzer-Jin’s pulse quickened. A fear response?
What should he fear? Even if he possibly perhaps possessed the
smallest inclination to pair-bond with her, it was impossible. She
could not stay here, where pain encompassed everything. “Those
figures are disputed,” he scoffed.

“Doesn’t stop the fact that some perverts do
feel bond-desire.”

He scowled, careful to keep all other
emotions hidden. “And you think I’m one of them?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have thought so before,
no. But seeing you and her together….” Lagi shrugged. “You two make
the deviation seem almost natural.”

“It is irrelevant.” In a few weary but
deliberate motions, Dzer-Jin knelt beside her motionless form. The
sight brought him nothing but heartache. Guilt. Loss. Loneliness.
But that was his problem, not hers. He started to stroke her hair,
but drew back. He didn’t deserve to touch her. “She isn’t meant to
be here,” he admitted quietly.

“No?”

“No. Her life was interrupted. I am merely
hitting reset for her.”

“And that’s what she wants?”

“What do you care what she
wants?” Dzer-Jin bit back the snarl clawing up his throat. Normal
people
didn’t
care. Lagi was normal.
He
was the abnormal one. “It’s what she needs. She
needs to go home.”

“You don’t think she’ll pine for you at
all?”

“I hit her. That’s what she’ll remember.”
His eyes were watering for some inexplicable reason. “She’ll
remember I betrayed her trust, broke our agreement, and hurt her.
She’ll hate me and forget me.” His voice sounded embarrassingly
choked and thick. He averted his face, though not before he felt a
tear trickle down his cheek.

“You’re crying.”

“No I’m not.”

“But—”

“Leave it! And if she wakes up, don’t you
dare tell her about this.” He indicated his overflowing eyes before
swiping at them with the backs of his hands. “She must feel nothing
but hate for me. Or I swear….”

“You’ll kill me slow. I know.”

“Precisely. Now be off with her. Put her on
that shuttle. See to it that she gets to her private cabin
safely.”

With a groan of effort, Lagi hoisted her
over his shoulder. “You do realize nobody frees their slaves.
Nobody. And even fewer cry over them.”

“Just go.” He stood and cleared his throat
before calling after, “Lagi?”

“Yes?”

“I’m…I’m surprised you’re handling my
aberration so well.”

Lagi smiled. “I told you. I like kinky.”

CHAPTER
FIFTEEN

“Senator Wrall paid the Thieves Guild for
information on the movements of a female Tellurian?” Junior clerk
Hufa’s eyebrows climbed in surprise.

Sawlo frowned at him with all the
condescending disapproval years as a senior private secretary had
granted him. “I already said he did, no need to repeat me. And you
had best not let him see that expression.”

“Sorry sir.” Hufa picked up his stylus and
input pad, ready to receive orders.

Sawlo continued to scan the couriered
message. “Target embarked on a shuttle to the ship Oracle,
traveling alone.” He tossed the creased page onto his cluttered
desk. “At last. I didn’t think they’d ever find her alone. Assign
Fjormid.”

“Orders?”

He thought for a moment. “The captain of the
Oracle is to be told this female is a Creature of Interest and must
be detained. Fjormid may use force on her if she resists, so long
as the results are not fatal. The senator is insistent she be
delivered to him alive.”

“Acknowledged. And the senator is to take
delivery from Fjormid, where?”

Sawlo swiped through several screens on his
console. “The training hall at Mirawe.”

Hufa glanced up. “That’s not senatorial, is
it? I haven’t heard—”

“No, it’s private. This
entire operation is private. Do you understand,
junior
clerk?”

“Yes sir,” he responded meekly.

“Good. Prove your discretion in this matter
and perhaps one day you too may use government funds for personal
projects.”

“Yes sir!” Hufa started humming as he set
about his task. The Creature of Interest would soon be on her way
to Mirawe.

* * *

She woke with a sore face. The whole thing
hurt, throbbing and stabbing, and yet the pain in her jaw was
nothing compared to the ache in her heart. She’d always thought
heartache was a poetical term. A word songwriters used to
differentiate emotional pain from the physical. Nope. This was a
physical torment. An empty yet crushing pain in the core of her
being.

Turning sideways on the cot, she glanced
about at what had to be her cabin. Her cabin on a spaceship to
Earth. Because that’s what he’d said he’d do. Put her on a ship
bound for home. And here she was. And there wasn’t any Kleenex.

But that was okay because she wasn’t going
to cry. Nope. No crying. He wasn’t worth it. There might be
vomiting, though. She stood.

The room was compact, clean and orderly with
a berth, a pull-down tray table, a sink, and a box-like device that
was probably a toilet. She stumbled the few steps to the sink.

Interstellar space travel.
This should be exciting. She was going back to Earth. This should
be a happy moment. She stared at the tap and thought about all the
times she’d turned on the one at home to make bala.
The one at home
.

Her knees decided they didn’t want to work
anymore and she let them quit, sliding down the wall beside the
basin to the floor. He didn’t want her. Not the way she wanted him.
He’d been nice enough, loving enough, but when the going got tough,
well then he’d just slammed the door on her—no, he’d literally hit
her in the face while pushing her out.

She fought the lump in her throat, an
entrenched ball of despair that threatened to choke her. How could
he do that? After all they had shared, all his kindness, he
reverted to being a cruel, unfeeling monster just like everyone
else on his planet. She hated him for it.

Yes, that was it. She hated him. Sure he
rejected her, technically, but she was too good for him. And she
didn’t miss him and she wasn’t lonely and his betrayal was the best
thing ever because now she could be glad to never seen him
again.

Unless he’d done it on purpose, for
precisely that reason. She’d never know. She’d never see him again.
A wail of sorrow broke past her lips.

Hiding her face in her hands neither calmed
her nor muffled her sobs. Just made her jaw hurt at the contact.
Her weeping built and built upon itself until she could barely
breathe.

Vaguely she registered a
rapping on her door. Someone complaining about the noise?
Fuck ‘em
. They hadn’t
had their heart broken.

She continued to ignore the rapping until
she heard the sharp snick and immediate whoosh of her cabin door
opening.

CHAPTER
SIXTEEN

She next awoke immobile in an unfamiliar
room that smelled of urine and blood and fear. The stench made her
eyes water. She tried breathing through her mouth but it didn’t
help.

The flagstone floor upon which she sat felt
warm and slippery to her bare skin and what little air there was
hung close and humid. She wanted a shower. Her skin itched. She
recognized the chafe of rough cord. Blinking to clear her sight,
she took stock of her situation.

Ropes wrapped her entire body, twisting and
knotting in intricate designs from her throat to her ankles,
leaving her sitting with her legs bound together in front of her
and her arms behind her back. Gingerly, she tried twisting her neck
to see to what her wrists were attached. A metal pole? Something
like that. In the center of this dim stone room.