Wicked Beloved (2 page)

Why was he thinking of her in his flat? She
was a slave, a weaker species, who—from the scars on her
back—demonstrably refused to learn her place. She deserved what she
got.

Of course, she had offered
to obey
him
. Even
with that unbroken temper she had shown when she looked daggers at
Lagi, she had offered to obey his wishes. Which, again, confirmed
her lack of judgment. His fellow Guild members would find humor in
torturing an obedient slave to death.

In fact, he guessed the
only reason she hadn’t been snapped up for personal death-play was
her hefty Tellurian price tag. Even a
recalcitrant
Tellurian must be
costly. Only the gladiatorial games had the budget to waste
expensive species, which was how they attracted an
audience.

He watched her stare at the ground and shift
her weight from one foot to the other, her limp gown swaying about
her shapely ankles. Cost wasn’t a factor for him. His recent
contracts had paid well and he hadn’t bought himself anything with
the extra coin. No sense saving it, really. Assassins didn’t live
to retire.

Suddenly she glanced up at him, and he found
himself once again fascinated by the intensity of her blue gaze, by
the quiet caged girl who appraised her prospective buyers.

“
How much?” he asked the
clerk, the words leaving his mouth before he consciously realized
he’d made the decision.

“
Pardon?”

“
How much for
her?”

“
And this one,” Lagi
called, standing in front of the Oide girl’s cage.

He let Lagi haggle with the clerk, that
being one of Lagi’s talents. It didn’t take too long to agree to a
price. Nevertheless, the sun had set by the time their transaction
was complete and they each stood with a bundle of ownership papers
in one hand and a braided leash attached to the collar of a girl in
the other.

During their walk home, Lagi’s girl kept her
eager eyes on her purchaser’s face and listened to his every word,
as if she worried he might slip an obscure order for her to obey
into his conversation. By contrast, his girl scanned her
surroundings. She studied Kefu’s architecture and vehicles but an
unmistakable loathing entered her eyes whenever her gaze
encountered an inhabitant. Except for him. But that was because she
wouldn’t look at him, even when he accidentally-on-purpose blocked
her view.

Thankfully, Lagi didn’t notice his wandering
attention. He was too engrossed in delivering pet ownership
advice—which whips were best, when to use them, and where one could
find the sharpest disciplinary tools. Dzer-Jin was rather impressed
that Lagi had yet to run out of pet topics when the street to his
hetaira’s apartment peeled off the high road and they were forced
to part.

Dzer-Jin and his girl walked in silence
after that. He glanced down at her. She should properly have been
two steps behind him, not by his side, but she must not have been
taught that yet. He didn’t mind.

A hovercart zipped past them, too close to
the walkway, and she shied away from it, pressing into his side.
She remained there, snug at his side for a moment before jumping
away like she’d been scalded.

“
You all
right?”

“
Yes,” she murmured.
“Sorry.”

He wanted to say something more, something
to draw her out so he could learn about his new possession, but he
couldn’t think of anything. And that annoyed him. He shouldn’t be
tongue-tied in the presence of his own pet.

She sighed softly and he wondered if she was
tired. After all she’d been through, here he was making her walk to
her new home. “Hasn’t exactly been a good day for you, has it?”

“
Oh, I don’t know.” Her
voice was quiet but distinctly lighthearted. “I’m beginning to
think any day I don’t get euthanized is a good day.”

He chuckled. “I see your point.”

Reaching his apartment building didn’t take
much more time. They took the lift to the top floor. Only one flat
was on that level. His.

The lift doors opened upon his front
door.

“
This is my place.” He
punched his code on the operating panel and ushered her inside as
the portal slid open. When it whisked shut behind them, she jumped.
“You’ll get used to that.” He watched her edge around the big main
room. “Go ahead. Explore.”

Tentative steps brought her close enough to
peer into the kitchen. Then she headed toward the washroom. The
fourth room, the bedroom, she skipped entirely.

He followed her to the washroom. She was
running her fingers over one of his fluffy white towels. “You can
clean up and I’ll fix your back.”

She started at the sound of his voice. With
the plush carpeting in the main room, she must not have heard his
approach. Of course, he did tend to walk silently. Force of
habit.

“
Wash up and I’ll fix your
back,” he said again, softer.

She shrugged one shoulder. “There’s really
nothing to fix.”

“
You have scarring. I can
change that.”

“
Oh.”

“
Do you need anything to
eat?”

“
No, thank
you.”

“
Right, then. I’ll just
close this, shall I?” His hand went to the door panel. “If you hit
the yellow button on the left there,” he indicated the matching
panel inside the washroom. “It’ll lock. Remember to put your collar
back on when you’re through or we won’t be able to understand each
other.”

Once the door shut, he could hear shuffling
for a moment, and then the filling of the tub. He listened to the
water run. Odd to hear it from this side of the door. Sharing his
space was a new experience. He wasn’t sure what to make of it
yet.

He’d never owned a slave. Perhaps because of
the absolute finality, power, and control inherent in his vocation,
spending his free time dominating a trapped, weaker species had
never seemed particularly entertaining. Pet ownership was
purposeless self-aggrandizement for the insecure.

Wandering into the kitchen, he opened the
medicine drawer and removed the large tube of mending cream. Then
he retrieved her vet papers and read for a while. He’d already
noted how similar her exterior was to females of his race, and her
interior physiology was wasn’t too far off, either. But their
genetic compatibility was nothing short of amazing.

He’d guessed Tellurians could eat the same
foods and use the same medications, or the clerk who had pointed
out their sexual compatibility would have issued a warning, but
these papers confirmed that and more—including a remote chance of
viable offspring between them. No wonder Tellurians were so
expensive. Rather like having dominion over one of your own. He
understood the dark excitement inherent to such a situation, even
if it was too close to his job for him to feel the pull of it
himself.

A steady knocking caught his attention. That
shouldn’t be happening. He placed the papers and tube on the
counter, then followed the sound to the washroom. She was rapping
on the door. He hit the panel but the door only buzzed.

“
I’m stuck,” she called,
her voice muffled by the metal barrier.

He glanced at the panel readout. “It’s
merely locked. Hit the yellow button again.” He listened for the
click. “Now the purple one.”

The door slid open. She stood there wearing
an abashed grin, her collar and a towel wrapped around her body.
“Sorry.”

“
I’m beginning to suspect
you spent your entire previous captivity in a cell.”

“
I did.”

He nodded, feeling grim. Some people
shouldn’t be allowed pets. “Just remember, yellow operates the
locks. Purple opens doors.”

“
Even the front door?” Her
expression was very carefully neutral.

He smiled. She had to realize he could see
through that. But he didn’t mind. A desire to escape was natural.
“Even the front door. Now let’s fix your back.” He led the way to
the kitchen and retrieved the tube.

“
What are you going to
do?” Her voice was small and hushed. Worried.

“
Heal you. This cream can
regenerate anything. It’s saved my life a few times and I swear by
it. Lie down.”

She swallowed audibly. “Where?”

“
What?”

“
Where do you want me to
lie down?”

“
Wherever you feel like
it. Bed. Table. Couch.”

She wandered out and, deliberately turning
her back on the bedroom, glanced between and table and the couch.
He fought the urge to make up her mind for her. She seemed to
appreciate the freedom to choose and was taking her time with
it.

Eventually she headed to the couch and lay
down on her stomach, burying her face in the cushion, her elbows
bent and hands fisted at her shoulders. He followed and sat on the
edge, the side of his hip pressing against hers.

“
I must remove the towel
in order to proceed.” He took hold of the fabric’s edge below her
near shoulder blade, his fingers grazing her skin as he did so, and
she stiffened.

He waited. She didn’t relax. One inhalation
and he knew why. The sweet scent of her fear had returned. He
trailed his fingers up to her neck, stroked her wet hair out of the
way and, with minimal interference from her collar, found her
pulse. It fluttered so fast he wondered if Tellurian hearts ever
exploded.

Lowering his mouth to her ear, he whispered,
“Would I be correct in saying you’re terrified at this point?”

“
Yes.” The couch cushion
half smothered her word, but the tone was understandable
nonetheless.

“
Would it help if I tell
you this will not hurt?” He let his breath caress her ear and she
shivered in response.

“
Would you be
lying?”

He laughed. “No. If you’re like me, it will
feel cold at first. Then, as the mending gets going, it warms.”

Her fear was fading, her scent settling into
a combination of his spicy cleanser and water, and beneath that
something savory that was her essence alone.

He gripped the edge of the towel again. “I’m
going to ease this off you now.”

She shifted as he slowly pulled, helping him
free the towel from her body, though her face remained hidden in
the cushion. He pushed the wet coils of her hair off her shoulders
so they wouldn’t get mussed by the cream.

“
I’ll start at the top of
your shoulders and work down,” he informed her.

She made a soft sound of acquiescence
against the cushion.

CHAPTER
TWO

At first he simply brushed his fingers
slowly back and forth across her shoulders then up and down her
spine, like he was getting her accustomed to the contact. His warm,
dry fingertips created a slight friction against her skin, a
sensation that sent alternating waves of heat and tremors through
her marrow. Focusing on his touch, and not the knots in her
stomach, made her aware of the hypnotic nature of his strokes.

She inhaled a few shaky times before she was
able to manage a deep breath. He said nothing, just continued the
gentle passes along her back. Gradually she realized she was
allowing herself to melt into the couch.

Insanity
! How could she let her
guard down like this? Sure, he was being unbelievably humane, but
unbelievable was the operative word. It was a trick. It
must
be a
trick.

“
You’ve tensed up. What is
it?” When she didn’t answer, his hand returned to her neck. “Heart
rate back to racing as well. Talk.” His tone was
brusque.

The last thing she wanted to do was anger
him. Swallowing, she tried to form some placating words, and could
think of nothing.

“
You realize you haven’t
the power to prevent me from doing whatever I want to you. I’m a
fair bit stronger than you are. If I had a mind to hurt you, you
couldn’t stop me.”

She shivered. She was all too well aware of
that.

“
So you must also realize
I intend you no harm or I would not bother talking to
you.”

That was logical, not that her emotions were
quieted by logic. Shaky breaths interrupting her words, she finally
managed to get out, “Would you warn me if you were going to kill
me?”

He snorted. “Not normally.”

A moan of fear escaped before she could stop
it.

“
But I don’t intend on
killing you,” he added. “Or harming you in any way. Do you not
realize I’ve taken you up on your offer?”

“
My offer?”

“
What you said at the
shelter. I won’t hurt you and you’ll be my perfect
slave.”

Oh, yeah. That. She had said something like
that, in an effort to get the only potentially decent man she’d met
on this god-forsaken world to purchase her.

She cleared her throat. “For real?” Even to
her own ears, her voice sounded choked with tears. She lifted her
head enough to glance over her shoulder at him.

He gave her a small smile, the same crooked
grin he had flashed at the shelter, at once both unreservedly
heartening and adorably bashful. He really was a beautiful man.
Tall and muscular, with intense gray-green eyes and rich chestnut
hair, he could have been human, except for those odd olive irises
that glimmered as if lit from within. “Yes,” he answered.

Lying back down, and hoping he couldn’t see
how much that smile affected her, she tried to relax. Surely a
person who could smile like that couldn’t be all bad? And
muddle-headed thinking like that was precisely how serial killers
got victims. She was such a fool. But she’d better act relaxed or
he might lose his temper and she didn’t want him angry.