Neh’sa wandered down the long, narrow corridor that led to the Mistresses’ fresher, feeling blindsided by Lady Thrust’much’s strange decision. What could possibly be going on with the Grande Dame of the Council? Why would she make such a move—confer such an honor on someone like the sadistic, reprehensible Lady Wraith’neck?
She glanced down at the personalized, self-heating branding iron which bore her crest on it—a scripted, curving capital N in the center surrounded by glyphs for self-control, open-mindedness, and justice. These were the things Neh’sa believed in—not the heedless, petulant, sadistic form of punishment which would lead her to brand an unwilling body-slave. As if she would ever even consider using such a thing!
Neh’sa was tempted to throw the hateful brand from her and she almost did but then she considered where she was. Club Carnivorous was packed tonight and the building that housed it was old and probably had more than a few code violations. There was alcohol everywhere, not to mention the highly flammable spiked dream gas floating above the dance floor.
In short, the place was a tinderbox waiting to be lit and the stupid self-heating brand was a fire hazard. Reluctantly, Neh’sa kept hold of it.
She finally reached the Mistresses’ fresher, and turned slowly into the pink marbled area, gilded with touches of gold and Vrian velvet. She didn’t actually have to relieve herself, she just wanted an excuse – any excuse – to get away from lady Wraith’neck and her horrible gloating. Sinking down onto a gold and velvet couch, Neh’sa dropped the hateful branding iron on the cushions beside her and put her head in her hands.
What was she going to do? The ceremony for the re-dedication of the Library of All Knowledge was just two days away. It was a cause she had worked for and truly believed in, in the past. But now the addition of Lady Wraith’neck seemed to sully it. Just the idea of appearing in public with the other Mistress and having to acknowledge her as one of the Sacred Seven made Neh’sa’s stomach turn. How could she align herself with such a woman? How could she ever…
A soft hissing sound cut through her thoughts and made her raise her head. Was there a dream gas leak somewhere? But how could that be this far from the dance floor? But if it wasn’t a leak, what could be making the strange sound?
Neh’sa had thought she was alone in the fresher but now she rose slowly and craned her neck to try and peer over the tops of the pink marble stalls to her right.
“Hello?” She called uncertainly. “Is anyone there?”
The hissing grew louder. It appeared to be coming from the stall furthest from her. For some reason the sound gave Neh’sa a very bad feeling. She felt the short hairs along the back of her neck begin to rise and her stomach clenched like a slow, slick fist.
“Hello?” She said again, this time backing up instead of walking forward. “If someone’s in here, let me know. Are you all right? Are you sick? I can get you some help…”
Her words died away as the stall door slowly swung outward. Crouched inside the plush necessary room with its seat of velvet and its walls of shiny pink marble was the strange pale, bony beast Lady Wraith’neck had brought as her body slave.
“Oh…” Neh’sa breathed, uncertain of what to do.
The blind bulbous head turned towards the sound of her voice, the nostril slits flaring to show a red lining that pulsed like blood through an artery. There was no muzzle on the creature now and when it opened its mouth, it seemed that its teeth had grown. The long, thin needle-like fangs were at least the length of Neh’sa’s index finger and when the creature’s lipless mouth stretched into a grin, they grew longer still.
Horrified by the sight, Neh’sa bit back a gasp and took another shuffling step back. At once, the creature’s head jerked up, its nostrils flaring again as though it was tracking her.
Oh my Goddess it’s hunting me, she thought. It seemed that her heart had lodged itself right in her throat, blocking her airway and making it difficult to breathe.
What is it doing out of its restraints? How did it get off the muzzle it was wearing?
She had no answers but she was about to have plenty of problems if she didn’t get away from the night slinker before it found her.
Neh’sa wondered if she was agile enough—quiet enough—to sneak around it and out the fresher door. After all, it was blind. She took a slow step to the right, trying to be as noiseless as possible.
But the blind white head jerked up again, still clearly tracking her location. Slowly it raised itself to its full height of nearly 8 standard feet tall and hissed again—a low, somehow horribly curious sound. It seemed almost to be staring right at her, even though that was impossible because it couldn’t see. Could it be that its other senses were so acute there was no hiding from it even though it was blind?
Neh’sa certainly hoped not. Though Lady Wraith’neck had claimed that night-slinkers were semi-sentient, she saw nothing but animal cunning on the strange alien face. Nothing but the blind hunger of a predator searching for its prey, and she was that prey.
Goddess help me, she prayed, feeling sick with fear. What am I going to do?
The iron, whispered a little voice in her head that didn’t sound like her own. Remember the branding iron. You left it on the couch behind you. It’s your only weapon – use it.
Heeding the voice, Neh’sa took another step back towards the pink velvet and gold sofa. The night-slinker tracked her alertly, its head moving in quick jerking motions almost like a bird’s as it registered her movements.
Heart pounding in her chest, Neh’sa felt blindly for the long metal pole of the branding iron, not daring to take her eyes from the pale beast even for a second. She had an idea that it would spring the moment it didn’t think she was looking. It made no sense really, but she couldn’t help thinking it. So she kept her eyes glued to Lady Wraith’neck’s pale beast, hoping against hope that it would leave her alone. But she couldn’t forget the other Mistress’s words:
“I’m afraid once one of these magnificent beasts decides it finds your personal scent alluring it won’t stop tracking you until it finds a way to get you alone.”
Was that the problem? Did the night-slinker like the way she smelled? It certainly hadn’t seemed to like the way Lady Wraith’neck smelled – that was, if the way it had jerked away from her every time it got near her was any indication. Neh’sa remembered the strange, unpleasant, musky perfume the other Mistress had been wearing. Perhaps it was some kind of repellent? Some way to keep the strange beast she had brought from fixating on her?
Neh’sa’s thoughts were interrupted when the night-slinker took a slow measured pace towards her, its blind head cocked to one side as though listening intently. Its long, snaky black tongue with the forked end slithered out, as though tasting the air.
Looking for me, Neh’sa thought numbly. It’s tasting the air to see if it can catch my scent.
She gripped the heavy metal branding iron tightly in one sweating fist. She had to get out of here, slip past this thing and get back to the banquet hall. She had to…
At that moment, the night slinker launched itself at her.
It happened so fast, Neh’sa almost didn’t see it coming. One moment she was staring up into the strange blind face with its long snaking tongue and slitted red nostrils, and the next it was flying through the air directly towards her.
Its mouth gaped wide, its needle sharp teeth as long as her hand now. There could be no doubt about its intentions. It was going to take her head off with one monstrous bite.
She was going to die.
No, I can’t die – I won’t!
Neh’sa swung the iron, almost reflexively. If she had taken time to aim it, she probably would’ve missed. But her protective instincts kicked in and her body seemed to go into automatic mode. She saw her arm draw back and swing the heavy metal brand at the creature rushing her. Then she felt, rather than saw, the brand connect with its blind white face.
It made a hissing scream and jumped back as though it had been burned.
Which it hasn’t, because I forgot to turn the damn branding iron on, Neh’sa thought semi-hysterically. What the hell is wrong with me?
She fumbled at the handle looking for the button to turn the brand on but she was almost too late. The creature, still clearly intent on having her for dinner, sprang at her again.
Neh’sa swung as hard as she could but the brand was only half hot when it connected with the thin, white shoulder.
It gave another screaming hiss, its nostril slits wrinkling in rage. Crouching in the corner of the fresher, it prepared to spring again.
Clearly it wasn’t giving up any time soon.
That’s all right, Neh’sa thought grimly. Neither am I.
The iron was red-hot now, the metal a glowing rose-gold that reminded her of the flames that grew in Thorn’s eyes when he got angry or upset.
Thorn, she thought, her heart squeezing painfully in her chest. If only I’d let you come with me to the fresher like you wanted to. If she had, she might not be fighting for her life right now. The night-slinker was strong and horribly fast but Neh’sa had an idea the big Kindred would somehow be able to handle it.
Of course, she would never know because she had foolishly come to the fresher by herself.
“Come on,” she said to the crouching white beast, its blind head turned towards her, its maw wrinkled in a hissing scowl. “Just come on and try it.”
The slinker sprang at her a third time, but this time Neh’sa was fully ready for it. Instead of swinging, she crouched and held the burning hot iron at an arms length, gripping it tightly with both hands.
The night-slinker ran right into the iron, its bony chest connecting with the heated surface of the brand as its hideously long teeth snapped in her face.
Neh’sa cried out breathlessly, the sound torn from her by fear. And then the alien face was gone as the slinker yanked back from the burning brand with a shriek.
But it only disappeared for a moment, just long enough for the heavy branding iron to sag in Neh’sa’s grip. Then, suddenly, it reappeared, the knife-like teeth going straight for her throat as it pushed her over backwards.
Somehow, though she was flat on her back, Neh’sa managed to keep her grip on the branding iron. She shoved it, one-handed, between the gnashing teeth, wedging it as far back in the night-slinker’s gaping maw as she could.
It screeched at her, its dagger-like teeth grinding against the metal. Then it yanked the hot iron from her hand and slung it away with a jerk of its bulbous white head.
The branding iron clanged on the marble and came to a stop in the corner of the fresher, glowing like an abandoned star. Neh’sa stretched out her fingers, reaching for it desperately, but the brand was far beyond her reach.
The night-slinker pinned her shoulders to the ground with its claws and hissed in triumph. Despite its bony appearance, it was horribly strong and heavy—there was no getting away from it. As she stared up into its nightmarish face, Neh’sa could have sworn it was grinning.
“No…no,” she heard herself whisper in dismay. She was weaponless now—completely unprotected. Her heart seemed to freeze in her chest for a long moment, as though it was afraid to keep pumping. A cold sweat had broken out all over her body and she felt completely numb.
Bet that numbness won’t last for long, a sarcastic little voice in the back of her head whispered nastily. I bet it will wear right off the minute that thing sinks its teeth into you.
As though to prove her point, the night-slinker struck again—its ghastly mouth stretched wide to reveal the razor-sharp teeth and a long black tongue which drooled weird, blue saliva.
Neh’sa closed her eyes, unable to watch her death coming at her, not wanting to see the moment it ripped off her head.
Please, Goddess, she prayed fervently. Please, just let it be fast…
But though she felt the heat of the creature’s gaping mouth and smelled the fetid, rotten-meat reek of its hot breath blowing in her face, the teeth didn’t touch her. Neh’sa heard them click together angrily, but they closed over empty air.
What in the Goddess’s name was going on? Was the monster teasing her?
Slowly, Neh’sa opened her eyes and saw that two strong, long-fingered hands were wrapped around the skinny white throat. Thorn was behind the night-slinker, looming over its shoulder, with a look of fierce concentration on his face. The sparks in his blue and green eyes had grown to flames—the fire dancing higher than Neh’sa had ever seen it before.
“Neh’sa” he growled when he saw her looking at him. “Try to…roll out from under when I…pull it back. Hurry—it’s fucking strong.”
The paralysis which had somehow gripped her limbs suddenly eased. When the big Kindred gave a mighty tug, every muscle in his body straining with the effort to lift the creature off her, Neh’sa rolled away, her dress slithering on the cold marble floor as she scrambled to get free of the night-slinker.
It hissed and writhed crazily in Thorn’s grip, slithering like a snake, snapping and clawing wildly to get free. Somehow it managed to twist around so it was facing him but the big Kindred refused to loosen his grip. Grimly, he held on despite the way its razor-sharp talons raked his broad chest, leaving bloody gashes in his smooth, tan skin.
“No, you fucker,” Neh-sa heard him growl. “You’re not going anywhere. You don’t get a second chance to hurt my female.”
The night-slinker hissed and writhed, its long talons finding his face and leaving ugly, bloody scratches down one high cheekbone.
“Gods damn it!” Thorn snarled. “Son of a bitch!”
Suddenly, something strange happened to his eyes. The flames which she’d seen so often dancing in his mismatched irises seemed to spread outward, licking down his cheeks to the sides of his corded throat and then to his broad shoulders. Neh’sa watched in disbelief as tongues of fire stroked down his muscular arms and forearms, encircled his wrists and suddenly burst from the tips of his fingers.
“Oh my Goddess,” she breathed, scooting back against the wall, her own eyes wide. What was happening? How was he suddenly on fire? Was it some kind of spontaneous combustion? But he didn’t seem to be in pain, at least, not from the fire.
From the face and shoulders down, Thorn’s big, muscular body was wreathed in flames. But though the fire licked all over him, bathing the dim fresher in a savage, flickering light, they didn’t consume him—didn’t even hurt him as far as Neh’sa could see. It was like being on fire was his natural state or fire was his natural element.
The same couldn’t be said for the night-slinker. Scorch marks were appearing on its white hide like black fingerprints. It began to shriek—a high, unearthly, piercing sound that made Neh’sa clap her hands over her ears, fearful that it might burst her eardrums.
Still Thorn held it and wouldn’t let go.
“Die, you fucker,” she heard him growling in a deep, beast-like voice. “Die for daring to threaten my female. She’s mine, damn you! Mine!”
The last word ended in a roar and the fire licking from his big hands began to engulf the night-slinker’s head. It screamed and thrashed harder as its white hide turned black and shriveled up, its long, clawed feet kicking wildly, trying to disembowel its captor.
Somehow Thorn managed to avoid the kicking legs—he kept squeezing and burning until, as Neh’sa watched wide-eyed with horror, his strong hands crushed right through the creature’s wind-pipe and the intense heat of the flames severed its neck in a gout of black blood and ashes.
The night-slinker’s still burning head rolled across the fresher floor to come to a rest in the stall it had originally been hiding in while its long, bony body slumped to the floor, still twitching and spouting the foul, midnight-colored ichor it used for blood.
“Goddess,” Neh’sa breathed, her heart pounding. “Oh my Goddess.”
Thorn was kneeling on the pink marble floor, his eyes still burning, his arms wreathed in flames. He looked at her beseechingly and Neh’sa felt a great wave of painful terror and self-loathing rush through him.
“Neh-sa,” he whispered hoarsely. “Mistress, help me—I can’t turn it off. Can’t quench it on my own.”
* * * * *
It was the first flame-up he’d had in years and it was a bad one. Thorn could feel the fire starting to spread. If it engulfed his entire body it would have no place else to go but the building around him.
She’ll die, he thought desperately, staring at Neh’sa who was staring back at him with wide, horrified eyes. She’ll die because I tried to save her, to protect her. Just like before…
The memories of his past, which he had so often blocked and suppressed, began to flow like lava, seeping through the cracks in his conscious mind, making him feel sick and helpless to stop the fire, giving the flames that lived inside him the upper hand in his struggle to control them.
“A release,” he told Neh’sa desperately. “I need a release. It’s too much—I can feel it spreading…building up. If I can’t fucking control it, the fire is going to explode like a bomb!”
“A release?” She stared at him, uncomprehending for a moment. “Thorn I can’t…I don’t…don’t even have any equipment with me here. The silver wand I used last time is at home. I—”
“Fuck the wand,” he growled, hearing the desperation in his own voice and not liking it a bit. “It’s not pleasure I need now—it’s pain. I need something to focus me—something to help me regain control. Please, Neh-sa!” He stared at her with his burning eyes. “I’m going to burn this fucking club down around us if I can’t reign in the fire. I don’t…don’t want to do that. Don’t want to hurt you.”
Her eyes grew wide with understanding.
“This is what you were afraid of when I asked you to lose control,” she whispered. “This is what you feared would happen the last time when I used the wand on you.”
“Yes,” he ground out. Gods but the fire was strong! And so hungry. He hadn’t let it out for years—for over a decade. And now it was escaping the net he’d built around it, seeping out, getting away, hungry to consume everyone—to consume her.
Just like it did last time…no! Thorn tried to push the toxic memory away but it wouldn’t go. Every moment he felt his control slipping more…
“I’ll help you if I can.” Neh’sa’s voice cut through his anguish. “But I don’t know how.”
“The whip…the fire whip.” It was the only implement he could think of that was painful enough to do the job of re-caging the fire. “Flame…helps control… flame,” he ground out as Neh’sa started to shake her head. “Get the whip and use it on me—use it on my back.”
“I can’t do that!” she protested. “Your back…your limits—”
“Fuck limits,” Thorn growled hoarsely. “You think the fire inside me recognizes any limits? It’ll fucking burn this club and everyone in it to ash if it gets the chance. Please, Neh-sa—I can’t hold on much longer!”
By now he wasn’t even sure he could wait for the time it took her to run get the fire whip. The flames were spreading down the sides of his body, trying to take over.
Suddenly, his wildly searching eyes fell on the branding iron, lying abandoned in the corner of the fresher. It was still cherry-red with heat. Just looking at it made the fire inside him recoil…which was how Thorn knew he had found his answer.
“The iron,” he said hoarsely, pointing one flaming finger at it. “Neh’sa, there’s no time for the whip—use the branding iron instead. Hurry!”
Her eyes followed his and slowly—much too slowly for Thorn’s taste—she walked over and picked it up. She stared at the glowing brand at the end, a look of distaste coming over her lovely face.
“Thorn, I can’t—”
“Do it!” he roared at her. “Do it before the fire kills you! Before it kills you the way it killed her!”
A look of understanding and horror, sorrow and pain, passed over Neh’sa’s lovely features. Then her expression hardened into a determined stare and she stepped forward, the iron held in one hand. She spoke one word.
“Where?”
“Here.” Thorn turned from her, baring his back where he could feel the flames licking, trying to take over. But though they were spreading down his sides, and lapping around the back of his neck, there was still a cool spot between his shoulder blades—the scarred place where the fire whip had fallen during torture.
“I don’t want to do this,” he heard Neh’sa say, her words squeezed tight with tears.
And then the searing pain of the hot iron branding his back drove everything else out of his head. Thorn let out an agonized roar as the fire abruptly went out, fleeing back inside him as the burning catharsis of the brand forced it to retreat.
Gods, he thought, feeling his stomach fist into a knot as cold as the fire had been hot. Now she knows what I really am—what I’m capable of. Now she’ll hate me.
* * * * *
Thorn collapsed on the floor, panting and spent. The supernatural flames that had been threatening to take over his entire body had gone out as suddenly as they had ignited.
He was right, Neh’sa thought with a distracted kind of horror. He did need a kind of release in order to control them.
But it was a release she would have denied him if she could have—not because she didn’t want him to find relief but because she’d felt the wave of pure agony that went through him when she placed the hot brand.
She pulled the glowing metal away from his body, noticing with a kind of sick horror how her crest was now stamped into the scarred skin of his back. Those scars which had started to fade and loosen with her nightly application of salve were nothing compared to the angry, red, raised lines of ownership which marred his flesh now.
Goddess, what have I done? she thought, feeling ill. What have I done?
But she’d had to do it—right? He’d said the fire would spread, that the whole club would burn. And he’d been right—if it had spread to the dance floor with the flammable spiked dream-gas…
“What have you done? My night-slinker! My body-slave!”
Lady Wraith’neck’s piercing shriek jerked Neh’sa out of the dreamy horror she’d somehow fallen into. She looked up to see the other Mistress, along with several other attendees of the banquet, staring at the carnage left on the fresher floor.
“I…he…” She motioned helplessly with the still hot branding iron at the body of the night-slinker which lay twitching in a pool of black blood.
“Your fucking “body-slave” attacked my Mistress,” Thorn growled, raising his head and Neh’sa could see the bright sparks in his eyes beginning to dance threateningly again. “I barely got here in time to save her.”
“Liar! How dare you lie to me, slave!” Lady Wraith’neck exclaimed, turning red in the face. She glared at Neh’sa. “I can see what really happened here—you and your savage beast of a body-slave came in here for some pain-play and my poor Slinker got in the way. So you had your Kindred cut off his head just for fun—just for the sadistic pleasure of killing him!”
“No!” Neh’sa exclaimed, feeling sick. “No, I would never—”
“Then why is the branding iron in your hand and your brand burned into your slave’s back?” Lady Wraith’neck demanded. A slow, cruel smile curved her thin lips. “You claim to be so sweet and kind and tell everyone that pain collars and branding irons are wrong but look at you now, Neh’sanna—your secret perversion is finally exposed!”
“No!” Neh’sa gasped again. The branding iron fell from her nerveless fingers to clang on the fresher floor and she backed away from it, the way she would have backed away from a venomous animal. “I swear, I wouldn’t—”
“Except you did!” There was a vicious kind of triumph in Lady Wraith’neck’s yellowish eyes. “I never thought you’d use that branding iron when I gave it to you, Neh’sanna—not with your pious, goody-goody, saintly ways but it looks like you’re just like the rest of us. You couldn’t wait to mark that big brute as your own, could you?”
“It’s not like that,” Neh’sa protested. “I wouldn’t—”
“She didn’t brand me because she wanted to—I begged her to do it.” Thorn’s deep voice cut through the babble of raised female voices as more and more Mistresses from the banquet crowded into the fresher to see the awful scene. He rose from his crouched position on the floor and faced the crowd fearlessly.
“You what?” Lady Wraith’neck narrowed her eyes. “You lie! No slave asks to be branded. They hate and fear it.” She smirked. “That’s half the fun of it.”
“I’m not lying.” Thorn glared at her, staring her straight in the eyes as a slave was never supposed to do. “I wanted to be marked by my Mistress—to be owned by her completely. Because—”
He stopped abruptly and Neh’sa saw his big hands, so lately wreathed in flames, clenching and unclenching at his side.
“Because…?” Lady Wraith’neck prompted. “Do go on, slave. You’re weaving such an entertaining tale—you must let us hear the end of it. Why would you possibly ask your Mistress to brand you?”
“Because then I knew she couldn’t sell me,” Thorn burst out. “I knew no other Mistress would want me once Neh’sa’s permanent brand was on me. And I…” He cleared his throat. “I would rather die than be parted from her. The pain of the brand was a small price to pay to be certain I would be hers forever.” He walked over to Neh’sa and dropped to his knees before her. “I’m yours, Mistress,” he murmured, bowing his head. “Yours forever now.”
“Oh Thorn…” Neh’sa felt tears stinging her eyes, though she knew he must be putting on an act for Lady Wraith’neck’s benefit.
He looked up at her and for a moment, her certainty that he was acting was shaken. The expression in his mismatched eyes was so earnest, so heartbreakingly real.
“Mistress,” he whispered. “Neh’sa…I don’t deserve to be owned by you but still…I’m yours. Will you have me?”
Neh’sa opened her mouth, not certain what would come out. But just then, a new voice rose above the murmuring of the crowd.
“What’s this? What’s all this commotion?” Suddenly Lady Thrust’much was pushing her way into the crowded fresher. For an older female, she certainly was vigorous, Neh’sa thought wryly.
The Grande Dame of the Council narrowed her faded blue eyes as she took in the carnage on the pink marble floor, now stained red and black with blood from both body-slaves.
“What happened here?” she demanded. “What in the Goddess’s name went on?”
A rush of competing voices rose to try and explain but Lady Wraith’neck’s was the loudest.
“She had her body-slave kill mine! My poor Slinker who I had owned for just a few days. And Lady Thrust’much, this is the second such incident to happen in barely a solar week! This same body-slave also maimed my Clopsian at one of those ridiculous Devotion ceremonies Neh’sanna is always holding at her domicile.”
“Untrue!” Neh’sa protested, raising her voice. “Both times in question Lady Wraith’neck lost control of her body-slaves and they attacked me. Look at that creature—” She pointed at the corpse of the night-slinker. “She brought it in here in restraints because it was so obviously dangerous. Where are the restraints now? Somehow it got free and came stalking me!”
“Lies!” Lady Wraith’neck bugled. “She lies with every word she speaks! Lady Thrust’much, I demand a private hearing on this matter. Neh’sanna owes me hundreds of thousands of credits for the property damage she has cost me this past week!”
“I never—” Neh’sa began but Lady Thrust’much’s voice cut her off.
“Enough, the two of you!” She glared back and forth between Neh’sa and Lady Wraith’neck. “I want you both at my domicile tomorrow at midday—don’t be late. We’ll settle this once and for all. Until then, say and do nothing to each other. I will decide this matter.”
Without waiting to hear their replies, she swept grandly from the room and, at one imperious gesture of her hand, most of the other Mistresses followed.
Soon only Neh’sa, Thorn, and Lady Wraith’neck were left in the blood-smeared fresher.
“Well, well…I suppose we’ll see what happens tomorrow.” Lady Wraith’neck was smirking as though she’d already won the conflict.
It occurred to Neh’sa that she didn’t look nearly so outraged and offended now that her audience was gone. In fact, she had a smug, complacent look on her face. Like a feline that had gotten the laska cream.
“I suppose we will,” she said grimly. Gods, so much had happened she felt completely worn out! Looking at Thorn, she realized she needed to get him home and take care of him. There were long, bloody scratches down his broad chest, both thighs, and his high right cheekbone.
Not to mention that ugly brand on his back, whispered a nasty little voice in her head. The one you gave him.
Neh’sa didn’t want to think about that, even though she could feel his pain—the sharp, stinging ache of a deep burn that won’t be soothed.
In addition to treating his injuries, she also needed to get some answers. Things had happened in the fresher tonight that she had no reasonable explanation for. Clearly there was more to her big Kindred than met the eye. She needed to know what he was hiding.
“Come, Thorn,” she said tiredly. “We must go home.”
“Yes, go home, Neh’sanna,” Lady Wraith’ neck sneered. “Enjoy the company of that brute of a body-slave of yours. We all know what you’re going to do with him once you get him alone.”
“I’m going to heal the wounds your creature put on him while he was saving my life,” Neh’sa snapped. “Now get out of my way.”
She pushed past the other Mistress with Thorn behind her, glaring at Lady Wraith’neck, a low growl rising in his throat though he said nothing.
“Enjoy it while you can,” Lady Wraith’neck called after her. “Have him as many times as he can rise for you tonight because it’s going to be your last.”
Her words troubled Neh’sa, but she refused to rise to the bait.
“Come, Thorn,” she murmured, ignoring the other Mistress. “Let’s go home.”