Wicked Beloved (3 page)

He warned her before he started applying the
cream. Her muscles tightened in anticipation. It did feel cold
going on, but warmed up considerably in a handful of seconds. It
tingled, too. Not unpleasantly. In fact, the sensation was the best
thing she’d felt since she’d been kidnapped from her bedroom and
woken up in the hold of a slaving spaceship.

She swallowed back the little sighs of
contentment trying to purr their way out of her throat as he spread
the healing relief along each scab, each sore, each ache with easy,
lazy strokes, like he had all the time in the world for this. Like
he didn’t mind caring for her. Perhaps finally she’d been granted
some luck.

His tenderness seemed too
good to be true. Could this man actually be different from any of
the other males she had encountered? When she’d first seen him at
the shelter, with his terribly, frighteningly handsome good looks,
she assumed he would be vain and cruel. But when he spoke, with
that gravelly, husky voice—
damn
, but she’d pay to hear him read
the dictionary—he had been polite. Almost kind. He treated her as
if she were of a similar rather than lesser species.

His hand reached her haunches. Snapped from
her thoughts, she stiffened again, embarrassed that he could see
her every clenched muscle but unable to stop her body from locking
up. This was when his attitude could change.

Owners had the right to do whatever they
wanted with their slaves’ bodies. And from what she had both
experienced and seen, they took full advantage of this. Her heart
careened around her chest as she held herself rigid, muscles
twitching at the strain, dreading probing fingers or groping
hands—or worse.

Yet nothing happened. His application of the
cream continued in the same professional, respectful manner. His
touch trailed lower to the backs of her thighs, still impersonal,
still performing nothing save the cessation of pain.

But a change came when, in following one
lash that had wrapped around her leg, he hesitated as his hand
approached the inside of her thigh. Then his progress stopped.

He had never completely stopped before. His
hot palm rested on the back of her thigh. Her breath caught in her
throat.

“
I’m going to need you to
part your legs.” His voice was particularly calm, like he was
talking to a spooked animal.

“
Don’t. I can’t.” The
cushion muffled her words, which was just as well since they shook
with panic she didn’t want to acknowledge.

“
Allow me to
finish.”

He could have forcefully repositioned her
limbs himself. He was right about her being unable to stop him. Or
he could have ordered her to obey. She had promised she would.
Instead, he was allowing her the semblance of being in control.

There had to be an ulterior motive in there
somewhere, but she couldn’t spot it. She was so tired of being
terrified. Her pain was almost gone and she wanted to relax.

She wanted to be able to trust him. She
wanted him to be trustworthy. Trust had to start somewhere. With
painstakingly tremendous effort, she parted her legs.

His hand continued its journey, healing the
welt, the cream very cold against the hot, sensitive skin of her
inner thigh. She was rather amazed that he was being honorable,
just healing the scar, like he said he would. Then his fingers
skimmed higher.

Her heart skipped in erratic panic. She’d
been wrong. Oh, she’d been wrong. He was going to….

She squeezed her eyes shut and wished she
could do the same with her legs. But he could overpower her in an
instant if he wanted to. Maybe if she didn’t anger him….

She stifled a whimper, biting her lip, as he
brought the icy paste in contact with her delicate, over-heated
flesh.

For a long moment, his hand rested there.
Just rested. It occurred to her that perhaps he thought she had
been raped and only wanted to provide the benefit of the healing
cream. With the wounds on her back, rape wouldn’t have been an
outlandish conclusion. She had been lucky in that regard. Her
former master had been uninterested in her sex.

His hand continued to linger and she braced
herself, every nerve in her body concentrated on that point, on the
heavy press of his palm right where she was most vulnerable. He
could do what he liked with her. She couldn’t stop him. She could
only hope her lack of resistance would encourage him to be
merciful.

“
Your knuckles are turning
white. You fear me again?”

At first words refused to come. She cleared
her throat. “Y-yes. Sorry.”

“
Don’t be. I wouldn’t
trust me either. But, for the record, I do not force myself on
females.”

His hand moved on then, tracing another
wound down her leg. In the absence of his touch, she realized how
soothing the cream was. Under different circumstances, she’d thank
him for being so thorough.

When he finished, he put aside the tube of
medication with a soft thump. She started to rise, glancing about
for her towel.

“
Lie down,” he ordered.
The snapped words were unquestionably a command and she obeyed
without a second thought.

His hands returned to her back, rubbing,
exploring, finding kinks of muscle she hadn’t known existed and
alleviating them. He certainly seemed familiar with anatomy.
Gradually she relaxed and welcomed his fingers, her embarrassment
at the absence of her towel finally forgotten.

Soon her skin was tingling from more than
the medicine. His massage had ignited a matching sensation in her
belly. Tendrils of excitement snaked up her spine—she was enjoying
this too much.

Even more damning, an ache
was building deep inside her body. She desperately wanted to be
touched there. Correction, she wanted
him
to touch her there. Her stupid
body wanted him to ravish her.
Unbelievable.
What had she
become?

Self-loathing brought the
first tears. She was so pitifully desperate for a little kindness
that his mere comforting touch pitched her headlong into arousal.
She barely knew the man.
Alien
, she corrected
herself.

Any moment he was bound to start hurting
her. Bound to. Torture seemed to be what slaves were for on this
planet. Fear made her tears fall faster.

And that was irrational. He’d said he
wouldn’t hurt her. She was afraid of everything these days. She was
a coward. Her dark emotional vortex circled back to
self-loathing.

Streaming eyes and a runny nose made
breathing against the cushion increasingly difficult. She didn’t
want him to see her tears, but her sniffles were getting louder so
he’d probably notice anyway. She twisted her neck to rest her cheek
on the cushion and sucked in a breath. He’d be able to see the wet
surface of her other cheek now.

His reaction was immediate. “You’re crying.”
The words weren’t accusatory. Merely surprised. “Have I been
causing you pain?”

“
No. No, you’re amazing.
I’m just….” It would be so nice to be able to tell someone how she
honestly felt.
Begin as you mean to go
on
. She sniffled and then huffed out a
breath, deciding to admit the truth. “I’m afraid,” she
whispered.

“
Why?” His tone, although
mystified, was not unkind.

“
This is…I keep
expecting….” Her voice cracked.

He stroked her back, his touch reassuring.
“Remember. I won’t hurt you and you’ll obey me.”

“
Right. I know.
Right.”

He massaged her shoulders in silence for a
few moments. “Most slaves…. From what I understand, most slaves
enjoy their punishments.”

“
I don’t.”

“
I gathered. Your previous
master would have stopped once you broke for him.”

“
I doubt it.”

“
You never tried asking
for mercy?”

“
I couldn’t let him
win.”

“
Why?” He sounded
sincerely curious.

“
He was an evil piece of
garbage, may I live to spit on his grave.” She swallowed and made
an attempt to lighten her tone. “Also, I’m not very smart.” A smart
girl would have realized her predicament sooner and proved her
worth, not let herself be tossed away, to end up on death row.
“Thank you for buying me.” The words were awkward to say. They
shouldn’t be. He’d saved her life.

But the words reminded her of how foreign
the situation was. This man owned her. And he appeared human. But
he was a million miles away from being human. Maybe more.

“
You’re welcome.”
Amusement lurked in his tone. “So where is Telluria?”

“
Where?”

“
Your home
world.”

“
Earth is…uh….” This was a
good argument for making astronomy mandatory. She had no idea what
the names of the stars and planets were beyond Pluto—wait, Pluto
wasn’t a planet anymore, right? And even if she did, would her
names translate into the correct designations in his
language?

He had started chuckling.
It was a deep, seductive sound. “Earth? You call your planet
‘ground’?
You’re not a
very imaginative people, are you?”

“
I don’t suppose they ever
thought they’d leave it when they named it.”

“
Valid point.”

His good humor was catching. She let herself
relax a little. He sounded so different from anyone she had yet met
in this place. Kind. Considerate. Perhaps being his slave wouldn’t
be so terrible.

She took a deep breath.
“Can I ask you…er…
may
I ask you something?”

“
Certainly.”

“
Wh-what would you like me
to call you? Sir? Master?”

He snorted. “Master is the usual form of
address.”

“
Can you…would you…would
you please call me Slave? I don’t like Whore. Or anything you want,
actually. Just not Whore.”

“
Your other master called
you Whore?”

“
Yeah. I really, really
don’t like that.”

“
Slave it is, then.” He
gave her hip a playful slap. “You’re done. Here’s your towel. I’m
thinking of having an early night.”

She sat up and took the towel, quickly
wrapping it around herself. He wanted an early night. This was it.
Zero hour. He wanted to get started with the sex.

Panic pulsed through her system. She was in
for it now. Yes, he seemed nice. And yes, he had said he wouldn’t
hurt her. But did he truly understand what would hurt and what
would not? And what if he wanted to press the boundaries?

This place…country…hell, maybe the entire
planet had an unhealthy attitude toward violence and suffering, as
far as she was concerned. Or maybe only the suffering of slaves was
sanctioned. Maybe they were nicer to each other. Not that it
mattered to her. She was a slave.

Which meant she could do nothing. He was
going to have sex with her. That was why he’d bought her, after
all. She knew that. Sex was all her species was good for, according
to the repeated mumblings of the shelter clerk.

So there was going to be sex. She tried to
get comfortable with the idea as she stood to follow him. She had
heard about what passed for sexual titillation here from other
residents of the shelter. Hopefully she could talk him out of
strangulation or drawing blood. Those practices obviously involved
pain, so he should agree to refrain from them. Restraints might be
iffy. She might have to give him that, if they weren’t too
tight.

Her knees felt unnaturally heavy and rubbery
as she forced herself to wobble toward the bedroom. If only she
could faint. Fainting would be good right about now. Why couldn’t
she faint?

A few feet from the bed she stopped. Her
heart thudded loudly in her ears. She couldn’t catch her breath.
Instinct screamed at her to run but she couldn’t move her rooted
legs.

At least this master was nice. And sane. And
handsome. Her body had already reacted to him. How horrible could
the experience be?

Her few fumbling forays into sex had never
been the spectacular sessions films portrayed. The main thing was
not to get hurt. So as long as he didn’t hurt her, sex wouldn’t be
so bad. She kept telling herself that, hoping she’d believe it.

CHAPTER
THREE

An air of dread clung to her as she stared
fixedly at his bed, her eyes glassy. She chanted softly under her
breath, “Okay. I’m okay. ‘M okay.”

Dzer-Jin hadn’t been planning on touching
her while she was still healing. Apparently her first master would
not have shown similar consideration, for she seemed to expect him
to ravish her the moment she touched the sheets. Or maybe the mere
thought of his presence in a small, shared space frightened
her.

Females generally considered him either
intimidating or beddable. Sometimes both. Which way a Tellurian
would find him he didn’t know. But this one’s reaction looked
headed toward intimidating. And she didn’t even know him.

“
You needn’t sleep in my
bed if it terrifies you.”

Her eyes darted his way and the haunted
expression stamped upon her countenance inexplicably made the
inside of his chest ache. He shouldn’t care that much about her
state of mind. She was only a pet, after all.

“
Won’t…won’t you be angry,
Master?”

“
Not at all. I don’t have
another bed, but you’re welcome to anywhere else you can
find.”