Bonded Page 3

  “But—”

  He smiled, but the expression looked more grim than happy. “My divorce wasn’t quite as expensive as I expected. I can afford a few extravagances.”

  “Your divorce?”

  He tilted his head and arched a single brow. “You didn’t think I would stay married to someone who tried to kill me, did you?”

  Taimi blushed. “Of course not. I—”

  He stopped her with a single finger against her lips. Despite her doubts, she couldn’t resist the temptation. She snaked her tongue out to touch his rough skin.

  Jaren drew in a sharp breath but didn’t look at all displeased. Instead he leaned forward, as if to kiss her, but the transport shuddered to a sudden halt.

  He looked away. “That was a quick trip.”

  Unfortunately. “Yes.” Through the heavily tinted barriers, she saw the nondescript shop building with its unremarkable sign. “What are we doing here?”

  “Getting you something to wear. Remember?” He started to push open the hatch. Hesitated. “Do you feel up to getting out in public?”

  As long as you’re not embarrassed by me. She nodded. She was half-afraid to let him out of her sight more than absolutely necessary, imagining he might disappear on her if she did.

  Jaren helped her out and ordered the driver to wait. An unnecessary precaution, of course. The man wanted to get paid for the full trip.

  The shop owner looked up at their entrance, and only the slightest flicker marred his otherwise serene expression when he looked at Taimi’s clothing. “Good evening. How may I help you?”

  “We need an outfit for her. Quickly,” Jaren said. “Something sturdy and appropriate for space travel.”

  The merchant took her measurements and disappeared into the back of the shop. He returned with a heavyweight skirt and blouse, plain and unornamented. “This is the closest I have to her size in ready-made.”

  Jaren frowned briefly. Nodded. “Go see how it fits.”

  Taimi entered the curtained dressing room and quickly discarded the flimsy tunic. The skirt was a little too long, but the waist fit perfectly. The blouse was also large, the cuffs of the sleeves hanging well below her fingers when she let her hands rest at her sides. She lifted the skirt and hurried to show Jaren.

  He looked at the merchant. “How long would it take for alterations?”

  “My seamstresses have departed for the evening to prepare themselves for the festival. I cannot do anything until morning.”

  Taimi saw the frustration on Jaren’s face. “If we could acquire needle and thread, Captain, I can do the alterations on the ship.”

  “Perfect.” His relief was so obvious, she couldn’t help smiling at him, though he didn’t seem to notice. “Can you help us with that?”

  “Of course.” The merchant was clearly amused but named a mostly reasonable price for the garments and the sewing supplies.

  While they finalized the details of payment, Taimi retrieved the sheer shift from the dressing room but decided not to change. A quick roll up of her new sleeves made them serviceable, and with her hands free, she could hold the skirt so she wouldn’t trip. She rejoined Jaren, and he ushered her back into the hover-hack.

  “I forgot about the customs here, regarding women’s clothing. It would be more practical for you to have trousers, but I suppose that was out of the question.”

  “Practicality would depend on what duties you intend for me, Captain.”

  “Jaren,” he corrected, almost absently. “And what you do is completely up to you, remember? I told you I’m freeing you. I’ll transport you anywhere you decide you would like to make a new life.”

  Pain, sharper than the one between her legs, lanced through her. She’d thought she would be staying with him. She wanted to stay with him. “I haven’t thought about it.”

  He stared at her slave collar for a moment. Looked away. “No, I guess you wouldn’t have, would you?” He pulled out his pocket assistant and stared at the tiny screen as if expecting to see the answers written there. “I obviously didn’t think this through. I should have realized you wouldn’t have any resources of your own. I don’t suppose you have any family?”

  “I never knew them.” She had been born and bred to be a slave, raised by strangers and trained to serve as soon as she was old enough.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I can’t miss what I’ve never known.”

  “Is that what they trained you to believe?”

  Anger again, just under the surface. It seemed Captain Caradoc truly despised the institution Taimi was born into. He didn’t like what she was.

  Tears threatened again.

  She’d never known any other life, and to have him disapprove of her for it stung. “I had no control over my past or what I was taught, Captain.” She bit her lip before pointing out he’d had no objection to one of the other things she had been trained to do.

  He smoothed his thumb against her lower lip. “Don’t, Taimi. Don’t ever feel like you can’t say what you’re thinking. Not with me.”

  “We all have things we try not to say, Captain.”

  “That’s different.”

  “Is it?”

  “Yes. But we can talk about that another time. Maybe.” One corner of his mouth curved upward, and a sparkle of mischief lit his eyes before he resumed a more solemn expression. “We were discussing your future, remember?”

  “I remember.” She wished he would smile more. He had always been rather serious, even when they’d first met, but now there was a permanent air of sadness and anger clinging to him. “Do you have an idea?”

  He dropped his hand, leaving her oddly bereft without his touch. He drew away and looked out the shields at the dusty city buildings. “Actually, I do. If you’d like a job, my crew can always use another medic.”

  “Medic?”

  “You saved my life. Admittedly, I’m a bit fuzzy on the details of just how you did it, but you had to know something about healing to do so.”

  “Plant and herbal healing. An old woman who lived on the plantation I was raised on felt sorry for me. Taught me something she hoped would make me more valuable, since I was always considered undersized for any real work.” She was never considered pretty enough to be a traditional concubine either. Her only value on the sex-slave market had been her innocence.

  She looked at the device he held so easily in his hand. It represented just one example of the vast differences between his culture and her upbringing. “I know nothing of medical technology, not even what little is used here on Lorus.”

  “You can learn.” He returned the pocket assistant to his coat and held out his hand, palm to one side. “Will you accept?”

  She looked at his hand, then up at his handsome face. His expression was closed. Unreadable.

  The full meaning of his words sank in.

  She could remain with him.

  Not as his sex slave.

  Nor his lover.

  Just an employee. A servant of sorts, but a paid one.

  Could she stay with him, work with him, and not spend every moment of every hour longing for him? Forced to control her desire and pretend she had never known his touch?

  If it was the only way to stay by his side…

  Taimi took a deep, shaky breath and placed her hand in his. “Yes. I will.”

  Chapter Three

  “Everyone’s waiting for us.” Jaren watched Taimi struggle with the ungainly skirt as she followed him into the port, but it wasn’t just the excess of cloth making her awkward. It had been a long time since he’d been with a virgin, but he knew she had to be sore. The memory of how tight she had been, tight and slick around his cock, sent a fresh surge of lust through his body, only partially tempered by his lingering guilt.

  His trousers were uncomfortably tight. He imagined carrying her inside, straight to his quarters and—

  No. She was off-limits. She was working for him. A part of his crew. He forced his thoughts awa
y from the heated images. “We might as well get all the introductions done at once.”

  She nodded, looking distinctly nervous. He wanted to draw her into his arms, to comfort her on this first step into a new life, but held back.

  If he touched her, he couldn’t guarantee his control would remain intact.

  If he touched her, he might give in to temptation.

  He led her around to the rear of the Marama. The loading hatch was open, with most of the crew scrambling to secure the last of their cargo before takeoff.

  Dev met them at the bottom of the ramp, looking at Taimi with definite appreciation, even as he snapped off a quick salute in Jaren’s direction. “Welcome back, Captain. Took you longer than we expected.”

  “I wasn’t as familiar with the Lorus laws as I should have been.”

  Dev raised a brow. “That sounds interesting.”

  “I won’t be sharing the details, old friend.” He resisted the urge to draw Taimi close to him, to claim her as his. If Dev persisted in staring at her like this, Jaren might just have to hurt him. He was extremely glad he’d insisted on changing her out of that transparent slip of nothing the auction house had dressed her in. “This is Taimi. She’ll be joining us as a medic. Taimi, this is my first mate, Lieutenant Dev Geithin.”

  His first mate shot him another sideways grin and reached for Taimi’s hand. “Welcome to the Marama, Taimi.” He gave the young woman another appreciative once-over. His grin widened, and he offered her his arm. “Would you like me to escort you aboard?”

  The man was deliberately trying to provoke him. “There’s no need, Dev. You know the rules.”

  Taimi drew her hand out of the first mate’s grasp. “Rules?”

  “I’ll explain later.” The gold of her slave collar glinted under the harsh lighting. “Let’s get you introduced to the rest of the crew. Then we need to take off that collar.”

  Dev followed them up the ramp, his heavy footsteps making the sturdy metal shudder. “Where were you planning to have her bunk down? Every spare space is filled with cargo, since this is our final trip to this system.”

  Jaren swore.

  “Too bad you didn’t tell us earlier. But I don’t mind; she can stay in my room.”

  “Only if you’re planning on spending every night on the bridge, sleeping in your chair.”

  Dev laughed and clapped a beefy hand on Taimi’s slender shoulder. She staggered and gave the man a look bordering on fear, mixed with a spasm of pain, but his first mate didn’t seem to notice. “Now, isn’t that something? Not even my best friend trusts me to be a perfect gentleman.”

  “That’s why I don’t trust you.” Especially with the way he kept eyeing Taimi. Like a starving man looking at a banquet. “I’ve known you too long. Heard a few too many of your stories. She’ll stay with me, in my quarters. It’s the safest place.”

  “Safe. Right, Captain.”

  Throughout the introductions, Jaren noticed his crew spent an inordinate amount of time staring at that damned slave collar, though none chose to question it. He gave orders to begin the takeoff sequence and placed Dev in charge of the bridge.

  Ignoring the knowing looks passing among his men, he led Taimi to his quarters.

  He wasn’t going to touch her again.

  He wasn’t.

  Maybe if he kept telling himself that, he might begin to believe it.

  * * * *

  The bars of Lady Ethlinda’s cell clanged in the particular rhythm only one guard used, the ringing metal sounding almost like a melody. Out of place in this disgusting pit. Ethlinda took a deep breath of the foul air and prepared to face him. She knew what she would see.

  Men were so predictable.

  Especially this one.

  Another deep breath. Control. Composure.

  She turned. Expected to see him pressed up against the cell, his trousers open and his cock poking through the bars. He always hoped for a reaction, though she’d never given him the satisfaction. He enjoyed his privilege of waving a hard-on in her face whenever he wished, though his vanity was decidedly misplaced.

  His cock was nothing to brag about. Short and stubby and with a definite crook to one side, it barely peeked out from under his not-so-flat belly. His pride far exceeded its merit. Perhaps that was why he seemed desperate to offer its use to her at every opportunity. He certainly didn’t have enough appeal to find willing partners easily, if at all.

  Several times, she had been tempted to use her magic to teach him a lesson. Two options were particularly delicious.

  One, to shrink his cock so he would need an alchemist’s scope to find it again. Or, and equally amusing, to expand only the head, so he could no longer draw it back between the bars.

  That would leave him in an interesting predicament with his fellow guards and his superiors.

  Unfortunately, the spell-worked walls and bars neutralized her powers. It was frustrating to be so helpless. The lack of magic bothered her far more than the physical bonds.

  Today, he kept his cock in his pants, but the heavy heat of lust in his gaze remained. Puffing his chest out more than usual, he waved a heavy packet of folded parchment in the air, brushing the ends against the bars. “Special delivery for you, lady.”

  She ignored the particular edge he placed on the pronunciation of her title. It was a common insult. Ethlinda had not been born to her rank, and her jailors would love to see her beaten down to what she had been, so long ago. An ordinary nothing. Like them. She stood. The chains on her wrists and ankles clanked in time with every step, and her strides were reduced by half, thanks to the chain linking one ankle bond to its mate. Plus, it was difficult to manage her skirt with her hands bound. “What is it?”

  “Now how would I know that?”

  Ethlinda slanted him a quick look. She expected to have no privacy in her correspondence, though she rarely received any. All her previous acquaintances had been far too eager to drop their relationship after her sentencing.

  The seal on the parchment was intact, the red wax molded into the type of ornate medallion favored by the courts. No wonder it was unopened. Not even her guards would dare interfere with official business. She broke the seal, a little clumsily, still unused to the extra weight of the chains on her wrists.

  She didn’t need to open the packet. She knew what it was.

  A divorce decree.

  “After all this time…”

  “Good news, lady?”

  The guard’s words startled her. She didn’t realize she’d spoken those last words out loud.

  Prison was making her weak.

  Her control was usually better than that. Much better.

  She shuffled through the sheets to the last page. To the place she’d signed on all five copies of this packet a year ago. Next to her mark: Captain Caradoc’s signature.

  Dated today.

  He was back on Lorus.

  How nice.

  How predictable of him, though a little late. Still, Ethlinda was almost glad to find time had not softened his spite against her. It would have been disappointing to know he was so weak.

  Ethlinda did enjoy a challenge, on occasion.

  If he had signed the decree just that afternoon, there was a good chance he was still on the system. She remembered his complaints about the slowness of the takeoff procedures here. There would be many places to hide on his ship, if only she could get aboard. Perhaps she might be able to convince him to hide her.

  She assessed the guard through the screen of her lashes. Though he refrained from his usual vulgar display, his lust for her was pathetically evident.

  She could work with that.

  She allowed her lashes to flutter up, forced heat and hesitation into her gaze. Not too much heat—he wouldn’t like that. “I’m no longer a married woman.”

  He leered at her. “There goes your last excuse to say no.”

  Ethlinda shifted, and her tunic-style prison top slid down one shoulder, seemingly without her doing a
nything at all. His eyes widened. He began to rut against the bars, stroking himself through his uniform.

  She made a soft, dismayed sound, knowing this type of man always responded best to a little resistance. She fumbled with her clothing but allowed him a seemingly accidental glimpse of her breast before drawing the cloth up to her neck. “You must not think such things, sir. The warden will not be pleased if you try to take me. The rules…”

  “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” The guard dropped his keys twice before he managed to unlock her cell.

  Ethlinda stumbled back, falling onto the hard cot. He returned his keys to the loop on his belt, and she focused on the bits of metal that would free her. The guard’s ego would make him think she was staring at something else.

  What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Much.

  She opened her eyes wide, still clutching the top of her tunic. He knocked her hands aside and ripped open the fabric.

  Her breasts tumbled free of their confines, and his raspy breathing grew louder, filling the small cell. Ethlinda hid a small smile. She knew her breasts were particularly fine, not only for their generously large size but their shape as well. Every late husband of hers had made a point of telling her as much, and she’d never doubted the sincerity of their compliments.

  Her thoughts raced as the guard began to paw at her. Just how many liberties might she have to allow him to achieve her freedom? With her hands and feet chained… She took a deep breath, settling her mind. Falling deeper into her role.

  The guard’s hands were rough and callused, with odd lumps on the palms that scraped against her skin. He squeezed her breasts hard. She let a soft whimper escape, then immediately bit her lip as if trying to hide her pain from her tormentor. His grin widened, and his eyes brightened. “Not so proud now, are you?”

  “Don’t do this to me.” She dropped her voice to a wobbling whisper. “Please.”

  He laughed, just as she knew he would. “That’s it, lady. You’ll be begging me for a lot more by the time I’m done with you.” He forced her to turn so her body draped over the edge of the cot. Her chains twisted, tangling her ankles together. Her feet did not quite touch the floor, leaving her with no leverage to aid her resistance.