Thorn couldn’t understand her effect on him. What was it about her touch that had awaked the fire inside him?
And for him, that wasn’t just a romantic phrase or a euphemism for desire. Being half Enfuego—or Pyro as his people called themselves—he literally had a fire inside him—one he had worked for years to smother.
He hadn’t had a flame-up in more years than he cared to count now. Even under the direst torture or the most blatant seduction, he was able to remain hard and cold—impervious to both pain and desire.
But now…
With just a touch of her hand she woke me.
He looked down at himself, at the hard shaft throbbing between his thighs. When was the last time a female had had such an effect on him?
Never, Thorn thought. Indeed, he worked hard to keep his libido in check—it, like all strong emotions, was tied inextricably to the fire inside which meant it was dangerous to allow himself to become too aroused. Though he was able to rouse himself to perform with a female if the situation called for it, he was also able to hold that part of himself back—the dangerous part—the deadly part. The last time it had gotten loose…
No! Thorn pushed the old, bad memory away. There was no point in rehashing the past—there was no way to change it and anyway, he had to concentrate on his future and the future of the entire Kindred race.
And right now that future was literally walking away.
If Lady Neh’sanna didn’t buy him, he would never gain access to the Library of All Knowledge and if he didn’t gain access, he would never get the all-important information on how to defeat the Hive.
Realization hit him—he had completely misplayed this situation. He’d believed that she would be attracted to a challenge—a disobedient slave she could whip and punish to her heart’s content. But that wasn’t what Neh’sanna wanted at all.
“I’m sorry,” she’d said. “I don’t have the time or the means to heal you.”
Which was ridiculous, of course—he didn’t need healing. There was nothing broken about him—she’d only thought so because she’d seen the marks of the fire whip on his back. And as he had told her, pain didn’t bother him. Hell, he practically endured torture for a living—it was part of the job when you worked in espionage.
You know what’s a bigger part of the job? whispered a little voice in his head. Getting into position to do what needs to be done in the first place. And right now you’re fucking that up royally.
He wondered if the diminutive Mistress would choose another slave instead of him but she didn’t even glance at the rest of the males on display. Instead, she headed for the exit door of the auction hall, pushed through it and was gone.
If he didn’t do something quickly, his chance of getting into the Library of All Knowledge was going to be gone with her.
Quickly, he descended the steps, leaving the auction stage.
“Wait! Stop, slave!” one of the auction attendants called, seeing him go. “You are not free to leave until the bidding is complete.”
Thorn didn’t bother to answer. Though he still had his hands tied behind his back with the reinforced leather-steel bands, he was by no means helpless. When a guard tried to stop him, he kicked out, catching the male in the throat with the heel of one bare foot. The guard crumpled in a heap to the ground but Thorn barely saw him. All he knew was that he had to get to Lady Neh’sanna and change her mind before it was too late.
* * * * *
Neh’sa felt her eyes sting with tears for some reason as she left the auction. Why had the big Kindred affected her so strongly? Why did she wish even now that she could go back and bid on him?
Maybe it was his pain that called to her. Neh’sa wasn’t full blooded Yonnite any more than he was full blooded Kindred. Her mother’s people had come from Lylas, a planet in the Trilba system. Due to a chemical in the atmosphere there, the population were extremely empathetic, feeling the emotions of others keenly.
Neh’sa was only part Lylasian so she didn’t feel as much as a true native of the Empath Planet, or the Feeler and Healer world, as it was sometimes called, would have. But she felt enough to perceive and sometimes to heal the pain of others—it was part of what made her a good Mistress. And there was so much pain inside the big Kindred—some of it fresh but most of it buried under layers of self-concealment.
It would take immense strength to face such pain, to unearth it and work through it in order to become a good submissive. And though the Kindred slave had been massive and physically strong, Neh’sa didn’t think he had the kind of inner strength needed to face that deep turmoil—almost no one would have.
The unexpected tears made her vision blurry and she wobbled on her six inch heels. They made an excellent showing in the auction room but they weren’t so good for the diamond-cut razor gravel strewed in the parking area.
The gravel was supposed to deter thieves, though apparently it hadn’t worked—one of the attendants had confided to her that some of the precious Druvian E’lo stones had been stolen just before the auction.
At any rate, she needed to be careful—a fall into the ultra-sharp gravel would mean some nasty lacerations. The demonically sharp rocks would cut right through clothing and flesh to flay anyone unlucky enough to land on them to the bone.
Frowning, Neh’sa looked for her small but luxuriously appointed ship. Where had her driver-droid parked it? Most Mistresses on Yonnie Six kept several body-slaves at a time and used one as a pilot but Neh’sa preferred to have just one slave and devote her time completely to proper training. Anyone could hire a driver—but not everyone could get a submissive who would be loyal unto death. That was much more important than learning to fly a ship.
At last she spotted her ship, parked at the far end of the lot. Damn that droid—she needed to look into his programming! With an aggravated sigh, she quickened her pace, her boots crunching on the razor gravel in staccato irritation.
And that was when her ankle turned and the thin, stiletto heel of her boot caught on a piece of gravel.
Neh’sa gave a little shriek as the long, thin heel snapped in half. Before she knew it, she was falling face first into the pointed, deadly rocks. She put out her hands to stop her fall, well aware that her palms would be shredded. Still, better her hands than her face. And if—
The sound of running footsteps behind her cut off her thought. And then a broad, scarred back was between her and the gravel.
With a gasp, Neh’sa caught herself against the big body that had appeared to cushion her fall. She found herself dazed but unharmed, draped across the bare back of the huge Kindred slave.
“What…how…?” Slowly, she levered herself up and off of him. He was kneeling on the ground before her, his arms still bound behind his back, his face turned towards her.
“Mistress,” he said hoarsely. “Are you all right?”
“I…I think so.” She was still hanging onto him with one hand but now she let go, balancing awkwardly because of her broken heel.
He straightened from his crouching position, though he was still kneeling in the sharp gravel, and looked at her.
“How did you know I would fall?” Neh’sa asked, wondering if his mixed blood gave him some kind of clairvoyance.
“I didn’t,” he said simply. “I came to ask you to give me another chance.”
Neh’sa raised an eyebrow at him.
“Another chance?”
“I was rude back there in the auction hall. Disrespectful.” He bowed his head. “For that I ask forgiveness.”
Neh’sa sighed. “It wasn’t your incivility that caused me to pass you over, slave.”
“Thorn,” he said. “My name is Thorn…Mistress.”
“Very well, Thorn, then.” She shook her head. “But as I said, it wasn’t your rudeness but your pain and turmoil that made me decide not to bid on you.”
“If this is about the scars on my back—” he began.
“Those are only part of it and I think you know it.” Neh’sa frowned, looking him over. “Such self-deceit only makes your pain worse.”
“Pain doesn’t bother me,” he insisted. “Just look at me and you’ll know it’s true.”
Neh’sa did. He was cut everywhere from the razor gravel. It had shredded the knees of his tight black leather trousers and sliced into the skin of his broad, bare shoulders when he had knelt to bear the brunt of her fall. There was even a small slice high on one cheekbone where his face must have pressed against the murderously sharp rocks. And as for his feet, well, his bare soles were bloody from running through the sharp stuff. But though he had to be in severe pain, his face didn’t show it a bit.
Immediately her mind kicked into Mistress mode and she felt responsible for him.
This is awful! I have to get him home and heal him! Those wounds might become infected otherwise. I can’t have a slave under my care—
Suddenly she realized what she was thinking. She couldn’t do this, could she? Couldn’t take on the big Kindred as a submissive when she’d just been telling herself all the reasons having him as her new slave wouldn’t work.
But the look in those mismatched eyes tore at her heart. He was staring at her steadily, waiting for her decision. He had already borne great physical pain for her and allowed himself to be wounded for her sake and she hadn’t even bought him yet.
“Please, Mistress,” he said quietly. “Give me a chance. Train me—use me however you see fit. Only don’t leave me behind.”
“I thought you didn’t want to be a slave? That was what you were shouting when the Horvath slaver dragged you through the artifacts sale,” she remarked. “What changed your mind?”
“You did, Mistress,” he said hoarsely. “Your touch…” He swallowed hard, the Adam’s apple in his throat moving almost convulsively. “Your touch stirred me as the touch of no other female ever has.” He looked at her appealingly. “Please…take me.”
“Well…” Neh’sa could feel her resolve faltering even though she knew it wasn’t a good idea. But there was just something about him—something she couldn’t say no to a second time.
She looked at the big Kindred seriously.
“If I take you it will be on one condition,” she said, raising one perfectly manicured finger to make her point.
“Anything,” he agreed quickly. “Anything at all, Mistress.”
“Honesty,” Neh’sa told him. “I want you to be completely honest—both with me and with yourself.”
He took a deep breath and seemed to pale a little. Then, finally he nodded.
“Agreed,” he said hoarsely.
“There can be no lying. And you’ll have to be strong enough to face your pain—I think you know what I mean,” Neh’sa said sternly.
“I’m not sure,” he said. “But…I’ll try to understand.”
“I won’t keep you if you lie to me,” Neh’sa said sharply. “I don’t care how much I have to pay for you, I’ll turn you out if I catch you in an untruth. I’ve done it before.”
He nodded once, slowly. “I understand.”
“All right.” She sighed. “I’ll probably regret this but let’s go back to the auction house so I can bid on you and win you.” She frowned. “If we can find a way to get there. My heel is broken and your feet—”
“Are fine,” he finished for her quickly. “I’ll get us both there if you could just untie me?” He motioned to the leather-steel thongs that were lashed around his wrists, holding his large hands in place behind his back. “Damn things are unbreakable or I could have caught you in my arms instead of with my back.”
“It was good of you to sacrifice yourself for me,” Neh’sa said as she worked on the knots. Luckily years of bondage training stood her in good stead. There was almost no knot she couldn’t untie and the leather-steel thongs proved no different.
Thorn looked at her speculatively, rubbing his newly freed wrists.
“Isn’t it what any good body-slave would do for his Mistress? Sacrifice himself?”
Neh’sa frowned. “Is that why you did it? To impress on me what a good slave you’d make?”
“No,” he said at once, frowning. “I saw that you were going to fall and I couldn’t bear the thought of your soft skin being cut to ribbons on this damn gravel. I acted instinctively.”
He rose from his kneeling position and Neh’sa saw with some alarm the damage the razor-gravel had done to him. Both knees were bloodied and streams of scarlet were trickling down his tight leather trousers. His other cuts were likewise bloody, though luckily his shaft appeared unharmed. But his feet had to be in agony.
Somehow, Thorn seemed not to mind his injuries.
“Here,” he said, reaching down to scoop her up. “Let’s go back so you can buy me.”
His motion was unexpected and Neh’sa, who had been balancing precariously on her broken heel while they talked, gave a little gasp of surprise as he lifted her high into the air. Goddess but he was so tall.
“You shouldn’t carry me,” she protested. “The added weight will cut your feet even worse than they are already!”
Thorn snorted derisively.
“What weight? You’re light as a feather, Mistress Neh’sanna.”
“I am not,” she protested as he carried her, uncomplaining, across the parking area though the razor-gravel had to be shredding his soles. “And you may call me Mistress Neh’sa if you like.”
He inclined his head gravely. “Mistress Neh’sa.”
“I normally wouldn’t allow a new submissive this much contact,” Neh’sa informed him, somewhat breathlessly.
She wished he didn’t smell so good. The bewitching male spice that seemed to emanate from him along with his immense physical size and strength made him a little overwhelming, even for a seasoned Mistress like herself. Also, his Alpha tendencies and his obvious self confidence made him unlike her usual submissives, who were typically much more subservient.
She sensed she would have to earn his respect as well as his trust to make this work and in order to do that, she had to get to know him.
“I don’t understand you,” she mused as he carried her. “Do you not feel physical pain at all? Or is it muted in you somehow?”
“I feel it.” The tone of his deep voice was somewhat grim. “I feel it as much as any other male would. I just don’t allow myself to fear it or react to it.”
Neh’sa thought of the burn and/or whip scars she’d seen on his back. He might not react to most pain, but the way Thorn had flinched from her touch there, told her that whatever had made those marks had also made a deep impression on him.
Of course, whatever it was, she would never use it on him. Using the instrument that had wounded him so badly would be one of his hard limits, she was certain—a betrayal of the trust she hoped would grow between them.
So then how was she to punish him if pain was off the table?
Other Mistresses might have thrown up their hands but Neh’sa had been working with submissives for over ten cycles—she knew her trade. There were more ways than pain to make a slave behave.
She just hoped she didn’t have to use all of them on Thorn.