The Siren's Call (Fantasy, Science Fiction, Romance) (FORCED TO SERVE) (17 page)

Sarinnea turned away from the compassion for his mate that she saw in her son’s gaze. Even without knowing who he was, Dorian was a good male. So they could drug him and they could make him forget the people who loved him. But they could not really change the male he’d made himself to be. Closing her eyes, Sarinnea thanked the Creators of All for their support.

“Why are you in deep emotional pain? Were you abused in some manner by those who bought you on Terris Rein?” Dorian asked.

Sarinnea nodded, unable to lie to her son. “Yes…but not as badly as I might have been. I used my Siren gifts to avoid the worst of the abuse. But Dorian, I continue to allow Jordon to believe it happened to me as it did to him. I have many reasons for doing so, but partly it is because I wish for him to consider me an unfit partner.”

“I don’t understand. Why practice such a deceit on someone you only met in captivity?” Dorian asked.

Sarinnea lifted her chin. “It is to help both of us and help me undo some unintentional harm I have done to him. I regret sharing my full compassion with a mated male. Jordon already has a mate in his life, and Norblades are usually very faithful creatures. If his female has been waiting for him all this time, he must return to her both morally and by the laws of his people. Jordon needs and deserves a chance to have a normal life, children, and a female who can offer him forgetfulness. I could only serve as a constant reminder of what we endured.”

“But where does that leave you? The Norblade male still has your full compassion,” Dorian said firmly, suddenly knowing it for a truth, though he was not sure how.

Sarinnea bowed her head. “Yes my child, he does. You have intuited the truth, but I pray Jordon does not. I request that you please keep my confidence in this matter.”

“As you wish,” Dorian said, bowing his head back in answer.

What did he know of the strange Norblade male? Or even of this female professing to be his parent? In light of what Sarinnea had shared with him, he now had doubts about his connection to Gwen Jet as well. How could he have spent nights with the hot-blooded female and not availed himself of her willing body? Not only was it illogical, his physical body indicated the impossibility of such an act of restraint.

“I will wait while you get cleaned up, and then we will go for food together. Perhaps Jordon will be awake by then and can go with us. I left him sleeping in my room,” Sarinnea said. “Do you need medical attention for anything?”

“No—I am uninjured, but can we go by Medical and check on…who was the injured female I carried?” he asked. “I felt a connection to her as well.”

“Ania Looren,” Sarinnea said, nodding. “Yes. We can go check on her. She was your teacher and your friend for many centuries. Her mate, Captain Liam Synar, is like a sibling to you. The Liberator is the third ship you’ve chosen to join just because that Norblade male was on it. You even stood for him at his mating ceremony to Ania.”

“How can I not remember these intimate connections?” Dorian asked, closing his eyes against all he had forgotten. “Was the one entity a demon? I heard them say that about him, but did not feel I could ask for confirmation. His energy is very dark, but I was not afraid. No one seems to harbor fear of him though I sense great power in him—not all of it benevolent.”

“You may have lost your memories of us, but I see your intuition still serves you well. Yes—Malachi is a demon, but he is mostly benevolent. He is bound to Ania and Captain Synar,” she told him.

Dorian thought about the entity and how surprised he had been by his lack of fear of him. He had lifted the host body and treated it kindly. It had just seemed the right thing to do when the demon had asked for help.

“Dorian, I have heard that memory loss usually heals itself, and that time is the best medicine. Jordon said you were likely drugged daily, since you spent almost the entire time in the doctor’s torture cage. I wanted to come and get you out. In fact, I have never wanted anything more fiercely,” Sarinnea said, turning her face to bite her fist, trying desperately to prevent the tears that only weakened her.

He rose and went to her, putting his arms around her, allowing her to bury herself in his embrace. If he’d had words, he would have said them, but he wasn’t sure what would help. Their connection was real—he felt the energy—but he still couldn’t feel the emotions.

“Each day of our abduction, I prayed your warrior mate would find you and kill your captors,” Sarinnea said.

“It’s okay, Sarinnea. The last time they tried to drug me, I ended up killing them myself,” Dorian said simply, hearing her groan and start to sob. “By the time Gwen and I located each other, she had killed five of her six captors. She said she was on her way to me, so your prayers were well placed. I think the female claiming to be my mate is quite capable of anything.”

“Indeed she is,” Sarinnea said firmly, pushing away and rubbing the tears from her eyes. “That is a profound truth if I ever heard one. The only fault Gwen Jet seems to have is that irreverent tongue of hers. Since you only seem to find it appealing, I overlook it to focus on her more pleasing qualities to my sensibilities.”

Reminded of Gwen’s teasing in the elevator, Dorian smiled as he walked to what looked like a clothes chest as Sarinnea worked to compose herself. Inside the chest he found clothing that seemed like they would fit. He pulled out pants and a loose shirt in a color he liked.

“Gwen said I liked her irreverent tongue, and she promised to remind me why later,” he said.

“Dorian Eli’oh Zade—you should not—” Sarinnea saw his grin and stopped, unwilling to destroy his tentative smile with chastisement over being indiscreet.

“Yes?” he asked, waiting for the pronouncement he could almost see hovering on her tongue.

“You are a lucky male to have a female who speaks her mind about what she wants to do with you,” Sarinnea said instead, hoping Gwen and her son managed to work things out.

“Indeed. Today I feel lucky,” Dorian said, smiling in agreement as he walked into the bathroom.

Chapter 12

“The results are unknown,” Chiang said, peering into the container. “It should work, but I can’t be certain until it’s tested. It’s not my fault there’s no time to test it.”

“Unknown isn’t good enough. I did not kill those guards trying to save his host body only to have it destroyed by a defective stasis unit that you are unsure about,” Boca declared.

“It is not defective. That is not what I said,” Chiang yelled. “And what do you mean you killed guards? What guards? Are you talking about the life force all over that tunic you refuse to stop working for two minutes to take off?”

“We are not discussing my clothing,” Boca stated coldly. “Will this machine keep Malachi’s host body alive or not? If so, what is its effectiveness?”

“Were you not listening to me?” Chiang bellowed. “I. Don’t. Know.”

Malachi crossed his arms planning to wait out the fight. Normally it was enjoyable to listen to all the yelling and soak up the angry energy rolling off the debating entities in waves. But when Ania moaned he knew it meant she was fighting her way out of her drug-induced sleep. Pentanes might keep most creatures sedated for three days, but not a demon host. He uncrossed his arms, walked to the converted incubator, and lay down in it. He had to roll to his side and bend his knees since it wasn’t long enough for his body’s full length. Now he knew precisely what a growing creature in a womb endured.

“Time to stop arguing you two. If the body lives, good for me. If it doesn’t live, I have a home in Ania. Either way, you both have tried your best. Blah, blah, blah—thank you. Now let’s get on with it before Ania wakes up. I’d just as soon spare her the trauma of being awake and hurting,” Malachi said. “Plus I don’t think your captain could handle the strain of her continued suffering right now.”

Chiang swallowed hard and looked down at the glaring male in the incubator he’d converted. It reminded him too much of a Greggor burial chamber.

“You can leave the body any time. Your host body can be hooked up to life support afterwards. Once the lid is closed, the body should be preserved for a week or more if given the proper care.”

“Before a few weeks ago, I hadn’t had a body of my own in a thousand years. Your efforts to save it are appreciated, Chiang of Greggor. Now, Boca dear, let go of your warrior anger and be a healer for a little while. This is a risk that must be taken. Ania and I both need you to be a helpful little healer right now,” Malachi said, prying her hand off the edge. “Talk to Chiang later. Tell him about what you did with the guards. Be honest. It is a better way to deal with your situation.”

Boca nodded. “Yes—fine. We will take the risk. When should the knife be pulled from her?”

“Give me a few minutes. I’ll tell Liam—I mean, Captain Synar—when it’s time,” Malachi said, looking at both of his worried helpers, disgusted with himself for liking them. “Now don’t fight until I get back into my host body. I don’t want to miss anything good. It’s more fun for me to see and hear it.”

Chiang and Boca watched the black mist leave the body in the container and head to the female on the medical table. They had sent the other medics away so none would have to witness what Malachi was doing. But eventually all who worked in Medical were going to have to be told if Malachi was going to make a habit of being out of his host for long periods of time.

Boca hooked up the body to life support, while Chiang set the controls.

“I am finished,” she said finally, keeping her tone even and as devoid of emotion as possible.

Chiang nodded and set the dials, watching the numbers climb as the body entered a semi-cryonic state. By slowing down all the body’s functions, the stasis slowed down the decay. It wouldn’t stop it from happening eventually, but it would delay it for hopefully enough time to help Ania.

After the dials were set, Chiang looked at Boca, who was frowning at the body that was now in stasis.

“We will monitor the host body through even sleep cycles for a few days to be sure the machine is functioning properly. While we wait on Malachi to require us, can I clean your wound and find you a shirt that doesn’t make me ill? What you are wearing is very disturbing to my healing energy,” Chiang said, uncaring if his tone had reached the stage of sounding desperate.

“If you insist,” Boca said resentfully, walking to the table next to Ania and jumping up to sit on it.

She watched Captain Synar holding Ania Looren’s hand with closed eyes and a bowed head. Hips lips were moving. Praying, she realized. The strongest male on the Liberator was praying over the warrior female who was his mate. Most mates would just have been worried and angry. The captain could give lessons about being truly supportive.

Chiang brought cleaning supplies and the first aid kit over to her table. Under his arm was a clean tunic shirt. He whipped the privacy curtain closed around them.

“Now take off that filthy shirt,” he ordered, relieved to give voice to what he’d been wanting to command her to do.

“Remove it while you watch?” Boca hissed the question, narrowing her eyes.

“Yes—Shades of Kellnor—while I watch,” Chiang said stiffly, biting off his answer as he tried to restrain his resentment that she still questioned him. He had no rights to her. He knew that. But it felt like he did—or should.

“I will not believe you are unhurt until I have seen for myself. Now remove the soiled tunic before I do it for you,” Chiang demanded.

Whipping her shirt off over her head in frustrated obedience, Boca felt the air hit her skin and looked down to see one breast totally exposed where the hygiene strap had broken during her struggles to subdue the guards. She looked up just in time to see Chiang’s interested gaze taking it in, his face flushed with proof of his interest. The same interest that had offended her in the guard’s gaze now pleased her in the Greggor male’s.

And made her completely disgusted with herself. She lifted the broken strap to cover her arousal as much as her unclothed state.

Because he had been trained to think like an engineer as well as a healer, Chiang took a piece of wound sealing tape and repaired the hygiene strap she was holding in place over her formerly naked and perfect breast. His gaze searched the rest of her quickly for signs of injuries as he mended the broken strap, while a part of him dealt with his urge to strip the rest from her. The knot in his gut finally unwound when he found no evidence of harm other than a few bruises.

Keeping a tight rein on his reactions, Chiang picked up the clean tunic and held it over Boca’s head for her to slip on, amazed when she let him assist her in doing so. Her gaze on his was sharp, but also considering.

“Feel better now?” she asked, her tone sarcastic and bitter as he met her glare calmly, saying nothing bitter in return.

Chiang ignored her outburst and continued to treat her wounds. He kept his touch on her as gentle as possible, but couldn’t prevent the trembling in his hands. It was just the effect she caused in him.

Feeling his hands shaking against her cheek as he worked on her, her sharpness with him suddenly made Boca ashamed. When he applied the stinging cleaner to her cheek, a tear rolled down her face, but not because of pain. She regretted trying to hurt him. She regretted the distance between them. But she didn’t want to regret it. She simply wanted not to feel anything for the male in front of her at all.