The Healer's Kiss: Book Four of the Forced To Serve Series (33 page)

It was seeing the only one she had ever really cared about lying on the cold stone floor of their cage.

“Be at peace,
Che’ta
. I am here.”

Boca moved into a defensive stance at the sound of the voice. It was coming from the other side of the bars. “Have you truly come to help, Emissary? Or point out the Creator’s will for me and Chiang is to be in this cage instead of helping Kefira? I do not need more lectures.”

“I have come to help you, but unfortunately not as you wish. And I have come with another gift from the Creators, even though you scorn them as well as me. You are blessed that they favor you anyway. The Creators have said you may choose greater proficiency in battle or increase your healing abilities. Which do you choose?”

Boca snorted at the stoic emissary whose gaze never revealed any emotion. Suddenly, she realized that she did not want to go through her own life pretending that she was as impervious as the being presently tormenting her.

“I
want
the key to this cell and an unblocked path of escape,” Boca said, her tone adamant.

“Choose one of what I offered, Boca Ador. You can do nothing else. Neither can I.”

Boca closed her eyes, clenched her hands into fists, and swore richly in both Sumerian and English, thinking of her hot-tempered commander and wishing she were here. When she opened her eyes again, her gaze automatically dropped to the semi-conscious male on the floor.

Chiang was annoying, but he could easily bend the metal bars and free them. She had seen him bending metal on the ship. He could also carry Kefira to freedom. All she needed was to be able to heal him so he could do what was needed.

“Will Chiang die if I don’t take the healing gift?” Boca asked, still looking at him.

“No, but your mate will not recover quickly from the drugs. Your personal fate is uncertain along that path as well. This is all I know. Your spirit has a strong will to survive. Both gifts would honor you.”

Her gaze swung in the direction of her frustrating benefactor. If she had demon power, the female would be ashes right now. “You know I could never risk Chiang dying. You know how it is between us. There is no choice for me in what you offer.”

“There is always a choice,
Che’ta
,” the emissary said softly.

“You are wrong, but arguing serves no one. I have made my decision. Give me the healing gift,” Boca all but yelled.

The emissary raised her hand, and Boca instinctively raised her own to shield her face from the light that suddenly filled the darkness. When it faded, the cell door was still closed, but her hands burned. Boca studied her scarred palms and the symbols that were now visible there, carved into swollen red ridges of skin. The energy vibrating in them was the strongest of anything she had ever felt, even that of Malachi’s.

“
Slaggika
,” Boca exclaimed, feeling it coursing through her.

She walked to where Chiang lay and knelt down on the cold floor. Holding her hands above his body, she moved them until the feeling in her palms made her almost call out in pain. It was worse than the wiring or the Xendrin collar.

She lowered them to the area that called for attention, and moments later, Chiang called out as if in great pain himself. When she pulled her hands away, Chiang’s eyes blinked open. They were foggy, but she could see his consciousness returning.

“What happened?” he asked.

“The guards behind us drugged you before you could react. Come—stand if you can. You must break us out of the cell. The high ambassador’s daughter is next door,” she said, standing and reaching down a hand to help him up.

Once standing, Chiang grabbed Boca’s wrist when she started to pull away. “What did you do to help me?”

“You are healed. What does it matter?” Boca asked tiredly.

Chiang noticed her hands then, the healing scar tissue made his gut churn, but the symbols…he’d never seen them before. “Are you okay?”

“I am well enough,” Boca declared. “Are you okay?”

Chiang released her wrist. He was a bit wobbly but mostly fine. He put a hand to the back of his neck. The injection site was still sore. They had indeed drugged him.

“Orem Sel has no honor. How long have we been in here?” he asked.

“Too long,” Boca said softly. “The others must be in danger as well or they would have freed us by now.”

Chiang walked to the front of the cell, took the bars in his hands, and pulled them apart until both Boca and he could pass through the opening he had made.

“Kefira is in there,” Boca declared, pointing to the cell next to the one they had exited.

Chiang squinted into the darkness of it, barely able to make out the figure curled on the sleeping platform at the back. He tried the lock. It was loosely connected and not very secure.

“Stand aside,” he ordered, barking the order at Boca more harshly than he had meant to do. His concern for her and his anger at Orem Sel made gentleness an impossibility. One hard yank broke the lock.

Boca rushed ahead of him into the darkness, running to where a beautiful young female lay groaning in the dark. She gently shook the sleeping form until her eyes opened. “Kefira, wake up. It is Boca. It is finally time to escape.”

“Boca? I cannot move. The pain is too much…it never lessens. I am ill from it,” Kefira said.

Boca walked to the bottom of the sleeping platform and reached her hands up under Kefira’s long tunic until they covered the wiring wounds on the female’s long legs. Closing her eyes, Boca trembled as her palms burned into still healing skin. Kefira called out, but Boca kept her hands in place until she felt them go cold.

“The pain. . .it is gone at last. What did you do?” Kefira asked, struggling to rise.

“I chose the right gift,” Boca said flatly, sliding her now limp hands down to Kefira’s knees, having to use them to push herself upright.

Strength returning, Boca finally looked up only to see Chiang’s admiring gaze on the young female’s bare legs. Temper rose inside her, along with a deep mortification that she was jealous. Disgusted with herself more than Chiang, she swore in Sumerian.

She craved his full attention, even knowing she was probably never going to have it. Chiang was the kind of male who would always draw females and always reciprocate their interest. She didn’t hate him for his very natural lust—he was just a male. But she hated herself for wanting to compete. She hated herself for even wondering how attractive Chiang found the pale, sick female.

“Can you focus on what we must do instead of on Kefira’s legs?”

“Of course. Sorry. I’ve never been immune to beautiful females,” Chiang said, offering the only defense he had for his stray thoughts.

And that was her answer, Boca decided. He did not even try to deny it to keep her favor. Chiang didn’t care what she thought or how she felt. It was typical, so very typical of all males she had ever known.

“I’m not in the mood to be reminded of my misfortune to be your current female of interest,” Boca said sharply. “Carry her. Kefira still cannot walk, and I can’t heal her fast enough. Her body is not adjusting to the wires. They need to be removed as soon as possible.”

Chiang picked up the fragile young female, hoisting her slight form into his arms. She was so frail. Boca could have carried her if she had been taller.

The diminutive object of his musings shot a hot, disapproving gaze in his direction as he lifted and cradled the high ambassador’s daughter to his chest. She glared and swore in Sumerian as she headed out of the cell door. Chiang tried to lose the satisfied smile as he followed her, but her jealousy over the younger female thrilled him.

It meant Boca wanted him, despite what she said to the contrary.

He watched as she charged ahead taking the steps two at a time to stay in front of them. His smile of admiration faded before he even started his climb with his cargo.

Two Lotharian male guards coming down the stairs ended up catching the worst of Boca’s anger. They never even got a chance to pull their weapons before they were crumpled heaps. Chiang stepped over the body of one to follow a winded but now calmer version of Boca as she slowly resumed her climb up the winding, dark stairway.

“Regardless of any stray thoughts of admiration I may have for others, there is no female but you for me,” Chiang said to her back. “We are mates in a way that I would never dishonor.”

“Shut up, Chiang. I don’t want to hear about your devotion. I saw you looking at her legs. Know I will never share you with another female. Do not ask,” Boca ordered, not turning around. “I would kill you first.”

“I would never ask that of you. My admiration was just my common reaction to beauty,” Chiang protested. “This only bothers you because you now know my deepest thoughts. So read more—you will see my longing is for you.”

Her bare feet moved as fast as possible on the stone steps. She wanted to escape the darkness but also to put as much distance as possible between her and the male whose hot gaze followed her. Next time she was offered a gift, she would choose strength so she could kick Chiang’s irreverent male ass whenever he annoyed her.

Gwen would be so proud.

***

The floor of the now familiar hallway was littered with guards and weapons as they traveled back through it. On the way back, they encountered Malachi, Lieutenant Trax, and Captain Synar, who was carrying the other Trax sibling.

“What happened to Rena Trax?” Boca asked Malachi.

“Poisoned. Seta has been too. Lieutenant Trax is temporarily running on another kind of power than her own,” Malachi said.

Chiang and Boca looked at Seta, whose eyes were glowing white.

“Don’t let it worry you,” Malachi said flatly. “The demon she carries is on our side for now.”

Liam lifted his wrist com. “Warro. We’re heading back with two wounded. We have the target and are on the way to you now.”

“Want me to come get you?” Ji asked.

“Not necessary,” Synar replied. “We have a cover, and I don’t want to risk our transport. Be ready when we get there. The wounded need immediate treatment. Synar out.” He lowered the wrist unit. “Malachi, let Boca control your host body. Cloak us while we leave. Orem Sel will be freed soon, but it won’t matter.”

“We’ll be gone before that happens,” Malachi said stiffly. “I sealed Orem Sel and the wicked ambassador in the room after we left. He can’t be trusted at all, Liam.”

Synar laughed. He wasn’t even sure why. Malachi was acting so strangely. “Fine. Can we leave now or do you want to torture them all first?”

“I prefer to see us all to safety,” Malachi said quietly.

Synar looked into eyes like his own, but it wasn’t the similarity to Conor he was seeing this time. “Perhaps we can devise some clever punishment for them after the planet has been secured by the Peace Alliance.”

“Ania would probably enjoy helping,” Malachi suggested. He turned to Boca. “Guard my body, Little Warrior. The host will obey you.”

With that he lifted from his body and spread out his energy, encompassing the entire group inside a bubble of black mist. The trek back to the shuttle was accomplished in silence.

With the shuttle’s engines engaged and standing by, Warro met them at the bottom of the ramp. The bodies of several guards were stacked off to one side. A gash in the side of his uniform pants was the only remaining sign of his struggle. He put out a hand to detain the one person he had wanted most to see return.

“Seta. Thank the Creators you survived,” Ji said.

Zorinda stopped the host from walking by. “On the contrary, Seta Trax is in the process of dying. I have delayed it, but I am unable to stop her demise.”

“What are you talking about?” Ji demanded, grabbing both her arms. Then it hit him. The dark energy radiating. It wasn’t her, wasn’t Seta he felt. “Who are you?”

“I am Zorinda. I am the demon who resides in Seta Trax,” she said.

Warro dropped his hands and stepped back. “No. This is not possible.”

Synar looked down the ramp at the Siren who looked ready to implode. “I regret you found out this way, but we have to leave, Captain Warro. The important fact at the moment is Seta is not dead
yet
, which is why we need to get back to the Liberator.”

Ji looked at the female he had thought he would mate. She turned away without a word and walked up inside the shuttle. Inside, something in him still leaned towards protecting her. He charged up the ramp, glaring at Liam Synar. “You knew this and didn’t tell me?”

“I know a lot of things,” Synar said coldly. “But I don’t know when the Lotharians are going to figure out what we’ve done and try to stop us. We need to leave.”

More angry than he could remember being in while, Ji pushed past and went to the pilot’s console. He wasn’t surprised when the Norblade male took the co-pilot’s chair, or at the urge he had to hurt him.

“Your betrayal of my trust will not be forgotten, Captain Synar.”

“Warro, Seta’s demon is the least of my concerns. There are three demons on my ship,” Synar said flatly. “The one residing in Seta Trax has been under the control of an emissary of the Creators.”

“Emissaries of the Creators do not exist. They are myth,” Warro insisted.

“They are real,” Synar informed him, quickly explaining Rena’s possession as well as Seta’s. Warro looked shocked, but nodded briefly to show he had heard. “I was not able to tell you because I had an agreement with the emissary that in exchange for my discretion, she would not harm my crew. Now you know all I know.”

Swearing in the native tongue of the Sirens, Warro pulled back on the launch lever and lifted the shuttle, shooting it to the sky at the maximum speed the small craft could safely attain. It was like piloting a toy.

Synar lifted his wrist com. “Commander Jet, we’re on our way back to the ship. Any word from the Dread Nought?”

“Yes. They’re here and preparing. Captain Za is on his way to talk to the Paladin’s commander. Ground forces should be mobilizing soon. Does the planet have the resources to retaliate this far out?” Gwen asked.

“Unknown,” Synar replied. “Stay on guard. Orem Sel wasn’t inclined to be helpful.”