Sevin: Lords of Satyr (29 page)

She hesitated, holding the clipboard tight to her chest as if unconsciously trying to hide from his intent study. “Because they believe I have some effect on you and ...”

He nodded in the direction of his prick. “Obviously.” In spite of the fact that the attendant had wrestled a pair of loose drawstring trousers onto him earlier, there was a sizable bulge under the sheet at his crotch. One that had hardened upon her arrival.

Her voice became irritated, but her gaze refused to venture below his waist. “A
calming
effect. You need healing, I’m a healer. End of story.”

“You know what I think?” He nodded again, this time toward the glass window. “I think that someone out there wants you to pry information out of me.”

A guilty silence fell.

He closed his eyes and laid his head back on the mattress. “No, don’t stop. Keep talking. It helps my head.”

“You have a headache?”

Her voice came closer and she rested a light hand on his forehead. He drew away, a kneejerk reaction. No one touched him! Even the attendants here had figured that out after he’d given them enough bruises.

Her hand lifted away. Their gazes clung, each searching the other’s face. Hers was kind, intelligent, her features strong. Her brows and lashes were naturally dark. The skin at her throat was a pale gold. His eyes traveled lower. A good Italian woman with curves in all the right places.

“If you want to get out of here, you need to cooperate. Let me treat you. Your treatment won’t proceed well if I’m not allowed to touch you.”

“If you want to soothe my aches, start with the one below my waist,” he said crudely. He was shocked to hear himself make the suggestion. He, who abhorred touch. Was he actually encouraging her to—

“Your headache. Can you describe it?” Ignoring his suggestion, she’d moved to stand behind him at the head of his bed, where he couldn’t see her without straining. “Common headaches produce a dull pain around the front, top, and sides of your head, almost like someone stretched a vise around it,” she went on when he didn’t reply.

“But a migraine is different.” As she spoke, her fingertips came, stroking his temples in small, light circles. When he didn’t object, she moved on to his cheekbones, then his head, combing her fingers through his hair to remove more of the marble that still clung to him here and there. He tensed, waiting for the customary crawling feeling to assail him. Incredibly, he instead felt himself relax under her touch. His eyes drifted closed.

Her hands moved to the sides of his neck, stroking the long tendons, releasing the tension. “Symptoms include throbbing and aches on one or both sides of the head. Do you feel dizzy or sick to your stomach?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Her hands stilled. “You do? Now?”

“No. But sometimes, with the arrival of these damned headaches.”

“You have them often?”

“Only since ... after an accident I had back in my world. I saw ElseWorld physicians some months ago in Enclave a Toscana for treatment. They couldn’t help. You won’t either.”

Another silence passed, and Luc felt her curiosity. But she didn’t inquire about his
accident
. Her hands went lower, working on the muscle of one shoulder, then down his arm. He felt her brush away more of the bits of marble that still stubbornly clung to him. Her voice came again. “I’ll describe more of the symptoms of a migraine, and you can tell me if any are familiar.”

“Mmm.”

“The heart pounds faster, breath quickens, muscles tighten, your senses become sharper.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“These physical changes are nature’s way of increasing your strength and stamina. Your body is preparing you to defend yourself against a danger that doesn’t exist.”

“Or for one that does,” he murmured.

He felt her consider that. “Do you believe yourself to be in danger? Were you when the headaches began?”

Yes.

Unlike his previous ElseWorld doctors, she didn’t seem to mind when he didn’t answer her questions. When she didn’t badger him, it made him relax further. She’d folded the sheet aside in a clinical way that revealed one of his legs but kept his prick shielded. The heel of her hand rode the length of his thigh muscle.

“Mmm. That feels damn good,” he told her. After working that leg, she covered it and worked her way around to his other one.

His lashes lifted and he watched her through slitted eyes. She was intent on her work, a small frown of concentration on her sweet face. He was melting into butter under her hands. He wanted nothing more than to lay her out on this bed and slide his cock inside her.

This time without an audience. And with him on top. He’d thought her a harlot when he’d first awakened at the temple. A professional temptress like those in Sevin’s salon, who were free with their favors for payment. Those women would not blush at carnal suggestions, and would have taken him up on the offer of sex in a heartbeat. This was a different kind of woman, one who for some reason fascinated him.

“Why were you with me on that altar?” he asked and felt her hands falter.

“I was coerced.”

His eyes went hard and his wrists tested his restraints. “By whom?”

“It’s hard to explain.”

“Try.”

She sighed. “What happened was a tradition. Part of a festival that centered on you. When you appeared so suddenly twelve years ago, seemingly out of nowhere, everyone believed you to be some sort of god.”

This woman who hid her body behind a clipboard and would not even peek at his male parts when she thought his eyes were closed was not the sort to engage in such a ritual without extreme enticement. “Did I hurt you?”

She folded the sheet firmly over his legs again, not looking at him. “Yes.”

Luc frowned. “Gods. If I’d known ... I’m sorry, Natalia.”

She only nodded and changed the subject and he let her. “These headaches. Do they increase your sensitivity to light, noise, or particular smells? Do you experience blurred vision?”

“All that. They’re at their worst during my Calling.”

At last, something sent her eyes up to meet his again. “C-calling?”

“A rite performed in the worship of Bacchus, my family’s god.”

Natalia’s hands left him. She went for her clipboard, making notes and hoping he didn’t see how they shook. His file was accurate, then. He’d as much as admitted he was a Satyr. That must be the reason she felt so drawn to him, she reasoned. Why she’d always avoided the statue. Because of what
she was.

Would he guess her long-held secret? And if he did, what would he do then? One thing was certain. She must make absolutely sure that neither she nor Sophie was in his vicinity when he was Called. It was imperative that she learn whatever Advisor wanted of him well before her deadline.

He groaned and she turned back to him, her brow knit.

“Are you feeling ill?”

“No.” He sighed, obviously lying.

She patted his arm, and reached for a syringe. “Your body has been through an ordeal.”

“You have no idea,” he said obliquely, and she sensed a hint of self-deprecation in his voice. Was he teasing?

“You need to rest. I’ll give you something for the pain.”

“No.”

She soothed him with words. “You’re going to be fine. Stay calm. I can take your pain away.”

He felt something prick the vein in his arm.

Then sleep came.

Day three

The healer was back. Sitting in a chair alongside his bed, she was scribbling notes on her infernal clipboard. Luc stared openly at her, enjoying the prim way she held herself and the serious expression on her face. And thinking how much he wished she were naked.

Her eyes met his and she canted her head slightly in that intriguing way that displayed the soft skin of her throat. “Do you know how you came to be encased in stone?”

He shook his head. It had been pounding this morning. Within minutes of her arrival, the pain had virtually faded away. “I’m guessing it was caused somehow by my crossing into this world.”

“How did you accomplish that exactly?”

He shrugged. “I don’t remember.”

“Liar.”

He smiled. “Some healer you are.” She was right, though. He was close to remembering how everything had come to pass. He could feel the memories lurking around the edges of his mind, now that it was clearer.

“Why did you come here?”

“Revenge.”

This got her attention, and he saw the surprise in her gaze when it lifted. “Against whom? Or what?”

“That’s my business.”

“A word of caution then. Be careful what you wish for,” she told him softly. “Revenge may not prove to be as sweet as you believe in the end.”

“Oh, I think it will be very sweet.”

“Truly? If you destroy whomever or whatever you hate so desperately, will you be completely happy then? What happens after you do so? Have you considered that? What will your goals be then?”

She was questioning the reason for his very existence, and it made him mad. “Release these fucking restraints. I have to piss.”

She stood with an irritated twitch of her skirts. “I’ll call an attendant.”

“No.” Luc’s voice lowered. “Hells, Natalia.” His head fell back. “I don’t need to relieve myself. I just want you to ... release me. To trust me.”

She hesitated, glancing over her shoulder at him. “Why should I? You’ve been rough with the guards and attendants. It’s in your chart.”

“I don’t like anyone touching me without my permission,” he admitted slowly. “I don’t like being locked up. Would you?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not making my job easy here.”

“Is that what I am? A job?”

Avoiding his question, she tapped her pen on her chin and then seemed to reach a decision. “All right.” She went to the door and locked it. Coming back to him, she released his restraints. Almost immediately, the door began rattling, those outside wanting in.

He leaped up, all male bluster, looking ready to do battle against them.

“I have the only key,” she informed him, unfazed. She turned to the glass, signaling to whomever was outside. “It’s all right,” she called out.

The doorknob stopped rattling.

She turned back to him. “I don’t believe you’ll harm me, but those outside aren’t so sure of you. If you act calmly, they’ll leave us alone.”

“How’s this?” Luc stood with his back against the door and folded his arms, looking pleased with himself that he’d convinced her to do as he wished. Then he reached out a hand to her.

She stepped back before he made contact. “Stand where the attendant can see you. And you’re not allowed to touch me, do you understand? I can touch you, but not vice versa.”

He put his hands on his hips, looking annoyed. But in the end, he nodded and did as she asked, moving to lounge against the countertop. Picking up her clipboard, he stared at the indecipherable writing on it.

Coming to his side, she took it from him, turning it face-down on the counter. Then her gaze slipped over his chest and she began rummaging through the drawers in the cabinet below the counter.

“Now let’s hope these cabinets are stocked with a robe that fits you,” she said. “Otherwise, we’ll soon have every female in the building flocking outside that glass to gawk.”

Days four and five

Natalia’s next session with Luc passed uneventfully save for a single admission on his part that his surname was Satyr. There were none in the community—hadn’t been for decades—but they were legendary for their licentious behavior and stories of their carnal feats still circulated. Just one week ago, she could never have imagined she would now be keeping company with one!

She left him in the early afternoon. On her way from his cell, she copied her notes and delivered the duplicates to Physician’s office as she did every day.

Since the institute was some distance from the Center, it would occupy most of one day to visit, and she made arrangements to travel there the following morning. She hadn’t heard from Sophie since the festival.

As she struck out from the Center the next day, guards flanked her carriage. “I don’t require protection,” she told them, and was summarily informed that their accompaniment was mandatory and they were under Advisor’s orders. This was unsettling, and she pondered what it meant all the way to the institution. How long would she remain so carefully guarded, and how would she ever manage to escape if Sophie agreed to her plan?

She found Sophie in the institute’s dining hall at nooning with a group of friends that included Leona. The latter girl looked chagrined to see Natalia and didn’t speak. The others noted her guards and then stared at her as if she were a bug on a pin. In fact, the entire hall seemed to be staring. After the events of the festival, she was infamous.

“Sophie, I would have a word with you,” Natalia said.

Looking irritated and slightly embarrassed by all the attention, her sister nevertheless rose and went outside to walk with her. The guards followed at a respectful distance.

“What is it?”

“You know I’m working at the Healing Center now?”

Sophie nodded. “Congratulations. It’s what you’ve always wanted.”

“I’ve had papers signed by Advisor to the effect that you won’t be inducted into the breeding program. And the priests issued documents that you and Leona and Rae cannot be coerced into marriage.”

“Rae has already wed.”

“What? Did she—”

Sophie shrugged. “Gentleman DiPietro offered for her and she agreed.”

“I see. And what are your plans?”

“Private.”

“Sophie,” she said carefully. “I hope you saw Gentleman Cato for the cad he is, when he attack—”

“He said you’d been flirting with him.”

Natalia put a hand on her arm. “No!”

Sophie shook her off. “Why are you here? What do you want?”

Natalia glanced back at the guards. “I want to know if you wish to leave the community. With me. If I were to go.”

“What do you mean if you go? You can’t just go, not without permission from the Advisors. Or ... oh, are they planning to trade you to another community for a female who isn’t barren?”