Chained (Brides of the Kindred) (8 page)

“I don’t blame you for feeling that way,”
Maggie said quietly. “And I don’t blame you for doing whatever you had to in
order to get free.”

“Oh, I didn’t kill my master to gain my
freedom,” Kor said. “I killed him for revenge. Some things…” He looked away,
staring out the window which showed the blackness of space speckled with stars.
“Some things can’t be forgiven or forgotten.”

“Oh,” Maggie whispered. Would she ever
understand this enigmatic man? “But—”

“Mistress, we are now making orbit around
Twidal,” the voice of their Sporran driver came over the speaker mounted in the
ceiling. “Touch down will be achieved very soon. I will strive for the softest
landing possible.”

“Oh, uh, thank you,” Maggie said. But
before the words even left her mouth, the hovercoach was descending toward a
bluish-pink planet. It landed with a barely discernable bump—apparently the
ride was over.

Maggie hastened to put back on her shoes.

Well, so much for
understanding Kor. As soon as we get out of here I’m headed straight for the
nearest phone or whatever they have that makes long distance calls so Ferna and
Ratner can come get me.
She wondered why the
thought didn’t make her happier. But a look at Kor showed he didn’t seem to
think their time together was done.

“Here we are,” he murmured, sitting up
straighter and squaring his massive shoulders. “Follow my lead and remember to
act the part. It’s time to put on a show.”

Before Maggie could ask him exactly what
he meant, he had stepped out of the hovercoach and was holding out a hand to
her.

“Come, my lady,” he murmured. “Your future
awaits.”

Chapter Seven

Maggie allowed Kor to take her hand and
help her out of the cab though she clearly had no idea what he was talking
about. Luckily for both of them, he did. For a time he’d had a wealthy elderly
patron who came to him, simply because she wanted to talk. Kor couldn’t understand
why she was willing to pay his stud fee simply to pass the time but he had
grown to enjoy her company and looked forward to her visits. One of the topics
she talked about had been the elite society that attended the
Lo’thian
spa. From talking to her, Kor knew what was expected—even if Maggie didn’t.

The hovercoach had brought them to the
edge of the Grand Promenade, which was traditional. It was a long, white carpet
which ran from the very front walkway of the
Lo’thian
spa to the
reception desk where helpful and obsequious attendants waited to take the guest’s
name and escort them to their rooms. At the edges of the carpet, other spa
guests loitered with their slaves. Kor also knew there were hidden recording
devices implanted in the graceful white trees with black leaves which lined the
carpet. This was so the other ladies who were making use of the spa facilities
could watch the entrance later. It was vital to make a good first showing
because it would be remembered and discussed for the entire duration of their
visit.

“My Lady Pope’nose,” the Sporran burbled,
coming around to bow to Maggie. “It has been a pleasure serving you. Before I
go, please forgive my ignorance but I believe your orders specified that you
would need one of the spa’s slaves to help you to the reception desk. Therefore
one is waiting.” He nodded to their left where a burly slave with white-blond
hair and chiseled features stood with his arms clasped loosely behind his back
and his legs spread.

Probably to show off
the size of his cock,
Kor thought and felt
a growl rising in his throat. This idiot wasn’t getting anywhere near his
female—not if he had anything to say about it.

“Oh, well…” Maggie was clearly confused.
“Thank you, I guess,” she told the Sporran. “But I don’t know what help he can
really be. I mean, unless he wants to carry the bags but—oh, the luggage was
sent a long time ago, right? So I really don’t know how—”

The spa slave came forward with a sneer.
“My Lady,” he began. “I would be more than pleased to escort you to the
reception desk if you find your own slave…” Here he eyed Kor up and down.
“Unacceptable.”

“My Lady needs no help from anyone but
me
.”
Kor glared at the other male trying to horn in on his territory. A possessive
rage swept through him, making his eyes feel hot with fury. It was the same way
he felt when he fought in the arena. He’d be damned if he let another male lay
a finger on Maggie, let alone escort her all the way to the reception desk.

Speaking of Maggie, she was tugging
anxiously at his arm.

“Kor, no—your eyes,” she whispered when he
looked down at her. She had a worried expression on her face as though she
expected him to explode in rage, just as he had when he’d almost killed Lady
Pope’nose.

Kor took a deep breath, fighting to
control his fury, trying to calm himself. Slowly the burning in his eyes cooled
and the red veil that had dropped over his vision cleared. But the damage was
already done—at least as far as the other slave was concerned. He had been
staring at Kor with growing apprehension and now he took an involuntary step
back.

“My apologies,” he said quickly. “I can
see the lady has all the help she needs.”

“You’re damn right she does,” Kor growled.
“And you can spread it to the other males in this place as well—no one touches
my lady but
me.”

“Understood.” The slave bobbed his head
quickly and scurried away, much to Kor’s satisfaction.

Maggie watched the slave go, clearly
confused by the whole episode.

“What was
that
all about?” she
asked, turning to Kor.

“This.” Without warning, he lifted her swiftly
into his arms and began the long walk up the Grand Promenade to the reception
desk.

“Wait—what? What are you doing?” Maggie
demanded, but in a low voice, Kor was glad to note, since many avid eyes were
watching them eagerly.

“Escorting you to the reception desk,” he
answered matter-of-factly.

“But you don’t have to
carry
me,”
she protested.

“Yes, I do. That’s the whole meaning of
escorting you to the desk. It’s the tradition here at the spa,” Kor explained. “A
mistress who doesn’t have a slave strong enough to carry her at least most of
the way to Reception is scorned and laughed at by the other patrons.”

But Maggie continued to protest.

“You don’t know how many cupcakes I’ve
eaten lately—I’m
way
too heavy.”

Kor burst out laughing. “What? You’re
light as a feather, blondie. I could carry you all day.” He frowned. “And what
the hell are cupcakes?”

“Little tiny cakes that have crazy amounts
of fat and sugar and carbs.” Maggie sighed. “Seriously though, you don’t have
to pretend I’m light. I nearly broke poor Jonas’s back on the way from my ship
to the chasm.”

“That skinny little slave.” Kor didn’t
even try to keep the scorn out of his voice. “He probably couldn’t lift a
child. His weakness is no reflection on you.”

“Oh, well…” Maggie seemed somewhat
mollified. “I guess I never thought of it like that. But you know, he can’t
help being skinny and I
can
help being…uh,
not
skinny if I would
just diet and exercise. And skinny guys aren’t all bad—my fiancé, Donald, is
pretty, uh, slender.”

Kor frowned. “You keep bringing him up. You’ll
have to tell me more about this skinny weakling you’ve promised to join with
soon.”

“Hey!” Maggie protested. “Donald’s not—”
But just then they arrived at the end of the Grand Promenade. At the far edge
of the pristine white carpet the reception desk loomed, a high, polished structure
made of solid black Korthinian marble. Two spa attendants—Sensorians, if their
milky white skin was any indication—sat behind the desk.

“Yes, slave,” one said in a clear,
bell-like voice. “Whom have you brought to us?”

“May I present Lady Pope’nose,” Kor said
clearly. He set his lady gently on her feet before the desk and then took a
step back and bowed his head. Now it was up to Maggie.

* * * * *

Maggie wasn’t sure what to do.

“Um, hello?” she said uncertainly, looking
up at the strange beings staring down at her from behind the black, shiny desk.
“I’m here to check in?”

“Very good, Lady Pope’nose,” the one who
had spoken first said. “You are expected.”

“And may we congratulate you on a very
fine entrance,” the second continued smoothly. “It will surely be recorded in
the annals for future contemplation.”

“Oh, thank you, I guess.” Maggie smiled at
them.

At least, unlike the Sporran chauffeur,
the desk attendants looked vaguely humanoid in the face. Their skin, however,
was a strange milky white and both had long, white, tentacle-like hair which
waved gently around their narrow heads like seaweed in some underwater current
only they could feel. Their eyes were large, perfect ovals, the palest
imaginable shade of pink with light blue stripes. They reminded Maggie
strangely of Easter eggs.

The first attendant nodded at her. “Your
room is prepared and your luggage is already installed. Your gowns have been
pressed and are hanging ready for your use.”

The second attendant frowned. “But your
slave’s clothing has
not
been unpacked. It was our understanding from
the call you made last night that you would
not
be traveling with a
slave after all. I believe you said that the one you had planned to bring was
still
unbroken?”
He glared meaningfully at Kor who was standing quietly
behind her with his head bowed.

“Oh!” Maggie took a deep breath. “Well, as
a matter of fact, I
did
manage to, uh, break him at the very last
minute,” she improvised quickly. “And so…here he is with me. So I don’t need
any other slaves,” she added, remembering how angry Kor had gotten when the
other slave had offered his assistance. Really, she had been sure he was about
to blast the poor guy when he offered to help her to the reception desk.

“I can’t help noting that your slave wears
no pain collar,” the second attendant said. “How can we be sure he is truly
broken to your service? How do we know that he will not cause a ruckus or
present problems to the other mistresses here at the spa?”

Maggie had no idea how to answer that.
Luckily, Kor apparently did. He stepped forward, nodding his head respectfully
to both the strange beings behind the desk.

“Your pardon for my interruption but I
wish to declare myself. I am a true and obedient slave to my lady. I serve her
with love and devotion so no collar is needed. I vow I will not cause any
trouble as long as my lady is safe.” He frowned. “If she is threatened, however,
then I cannot speak for my actions. I would give my life to defend her and kill
any who offered her harm.”

Maggie couldn’t help being impressed with
the speech. Kor seemed like a pretty straight forward kind of guy so the
flowery language was a surprise but he pulled it off well. Obviously the desk
attendants thought so too. They looked at each other and then nodded in unison.

“An impressive declaration,” said one,
looking at Maggie. “But are we given to understand that you have broken this
slave with no more than the power of your will?”

“I told you, I serve her from
love,”
Kor
insisted.

“But in her call to us, your lady said you
were completely intractable. She vowed you would not even kiss her foot—as is
right and necessary.” The attendant frowned at Kor in an accusatory way.

Maggie shivered, remembering the scene
between Kor and Lady Pope’nose where he had threatened to bite her if she stuck
her foot in his face. And then there was the vow he had made to never be a
slave again while they were talking in the hovercoach. Surely this gesture of
obedience was too much to ask of him.

“Oh,” she said hastily. “That whole
kissing the foot thing is such an old-fashioned custom and so unsanitary, you
know I—”

Kor cut her off by dropping to his knees
and kissing the top of her foot gently. But he didn’t stop there. Maggie
stifled a gasp as his large, warm hand slid up her ankle to caress her calf.
His lips followed, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses from the top of her foot
all the way up to the ticklish, sensitive spot behind her knee.

“Oh,” she whispered, reaching out a hand to
steady herself. Her heart was pounding and her mouth was suddenly dry. Somehow
she found her fingers buried in his springy black hair, almost as if she was
urging him on. His mouth was moving even higher now, inching slowly but surely
up her inner thigh. The coarse black stubble on his cheeks scratched her tender
flesh but his lips were as feather-light as butterfly wings. “Kor,” she
murmured breathlessly. “Kor, that’s…I think that’s enough.”

“Indeed it is, though you have been most
generous with your display, Mistress.” The high, bell-like voice of the desk
attendant cut through the spell that seemed to have been cast by Kor’s gentle
kisses. With a little gasp, Maggie looked up at the desk.

To her surprise, she saw that the two desk
attendants had changed. Their faces and forms remained the same but their pale,
milky-white skin was now a glowing pink and their tentacle like hair was almost
maroon. The hair waved more quickly too—whipping back and forth like a nest of
snakes someone had stirred with a stick.

“I…uh…” She shook her head, completely
unable to think of anything to say.

Kor was suddenly on his feet again and
standing beside her. “If you’ll give us the number of my lady’s room, I would
like to escort her there now. I must see to her needs.” He nodded at the
attendants meaningfully and they nodded back in unison.

“Of course, slave,” said one. He handed Kor
an envelope. “Here are the keys. You and your lady are installed in our Green
Suite. You will find it on the second level.”

“And may I recommend that you try the
spa’s facilities before the Grand Banquet tonight?” said the other. “The Dreaming
Wood is especially fine this time of year and our Remembrance Pool is beyond
compare.”

“Of course.” Kor nodded. He bent and
picked Maggie up again, as though it was no big deal for him to carry her
everywhere. She was beginning to feel like Scarlet in
Gone with the Wind
and
it was tempting to just let herself go with the flow. But there was something
niggling at the back of her mind—something she was supposed to do…

Right—of course! I’m
supposed to call Ferna and Ratner and let them know I’m here and they need to
come get me.

Maggie couldn’t believe she’d almost
forgotten it. It had been so exciting and interesting and different checking
into what amounted to a five star alien spa and having her own personal “slave”
to wait on her hand and foot, that she had nearly forgotten it wasn’t real. But
as pleasant as it all was, she had to get back to reality.