The Healer's Kiss: Book Four of the Forced To Serve Series (28 page)

“Silence, demon. Let me get this done,” she whispered.

“If you ever want to test the limits of that form you’re in, will you
please
let me know?” Malachi asked. “My skin suit—as you call it—craves yours.”

“I crave nothing but to return to energy and leave this bag of organics to rot as it was doing when I found it,” Rena said fiercely.

“Pity,” Malachi said stoically, even though he felt none for her at all. “Commence your invasion, Angel. I open my spirit to you.”

“Stop calling me that,” Rena ordered.

She took two cleansing breaths to calm her emotional state and then brought her hands to each side of his head, holding their sixth chakras together. What she saw was illuminating and humbling. She dropped her hands and slipped away from him.

The demon was one of the chosen—selected by the Creators for many sacred tasks to come. It was impossible from all she had known, heard, and been told about demons—yet that was what she saw. The mark was too clear to mean anything else. She also knew it was not for Conor Synar but only for the entity known as Malachi.

Yet nothing within her could accept it.

“How many beings have you killed?” she demanded, the question jagged in her throat.

“In two thousand years? How am I supposed to know? Please do not suggest an accounting to Ania Looren, or she will have me keeping a log. Why do you ask?”

Malachi frowned at her pale face as he waited for a response.

“I have killed none in that same time period. Not one creature. Yet now I am being punished and you are to be exalted. I do not understand their reasoning. Would you kill again if you felt death was needed?” Appalled to feel moisture gathering in the physical eyes of her host body, she thought again about how much she hated emotional reactions. She lifted fingertips to touch the hot streams, making a sound of disgust when she pulled them away and saw tears on her fingertips.

“Yes—I would kill again and fully expect to do so,” Malachi said, walking slowly towards her, stopping when she backed away. “Cease crying if you do not want me to touch you. I have to console all crying females now whether I wish to or not. I can see you’re not going to be an exception.”

Rena snorted, blinked hard, and then laughed humorlessly. She closed her eyes and called the names of the Creators. The light around her brightened and soon the tears were no more. She turned to leave without saying goodbye, but found she couldn’t take a step beyond his threshold. There was a wall of energy preventing her exit.

A loud command bloomed within her, demanding she use her power to do its bidding. She hadn’t heard from the Creators directly in so long, that doing so, even in this horrible instance, brought on moisture again as relief swept over her.

Cursing the emotional weakness of her female host body, she kept her back to Malachi while she fought down the reaction. Then she turned reluctantly and walked back to where he stood, confused but patiently waiting. She glared up into the face of his borrowed form.

“You have been chosen by the Creators to help end this quickly and save the Lotharians that need saving. They have commanded me to give you a…a
gift
to aid you.”

Malachi’s eyebrows rose. “Are you sure that message was for me? Maybe your host body is not receiving signals correctly.”

“Your false humility does not fool me. Bend down again,” she ordered tightly, reaching forward with her hands.

Dazed again by her insistence, Malachi bent, but put his hands over hers as they clamped hard onto his shoulders. “Wait. Do I have a choice about this…
gift
? If so, I would trade the gift the Creators are offering for a single night in Rena Trax’s arms,” he said quietly, his tone as sincere as he could make it. “You have no idea how much I want to mingle our energies. Consider that sharing your purity with me might redeem me beyond anything Ania has dreamed of happening.”

She drew in a shocked breath but immediately forced it out again. What capacity did the demon possess to evoke emotions in her host body that turned it into this mess that wept and hurt and hungered for such temporary things? She felt punished by every moment spent in his company.

“Do not be disrespectful of those I serve,” she ordered, her throat tight and her eyes burning as more hot tears escaped.

“It is not disrespectful to speak the truth. If it were, I would be doomed daily because I can do nothing else,” Malachi said flatly. “I desire you. Why is it wrong to say so?”

“Be silent then—just this once. I don’t want to do this task, but I must,” she declared, appalled to hear herself sniffling again.

“Your hate of me is a grievous state I would change if you would just let me,” Malachi said, frowning as he watched her frown. “Never mind. I have finished wasting my unwanted physical interest on you—at least for the present.”

She spoke sacred words that had their own unique vibration, being half energy and half resonating sound.

Malachi felt his body tighten, and his first thought was that the emissary was hurting him again. But as the sound of her commands echoed and faded within the room, all he felt was a deeper awareness of every cell in his borrowed form.

When his reluctant bestower of the gift pulled away from him, Malachi saw even more tears welling in her eyes, though she lifted her chin rebelliously. When he reached out, she backed up quickly. Never could he recall an entity more resistant to comfort. Not even Boca was this bad.

Malachi sighed and clenched his teeth. “You would be wise to cease the tears immediately if you do not want to be in my arms.”

“Touch me at your peril, demon. Now be still and listen to my words. When you leave your host body in the future, it will do nothing but wait patiently for your return. The empty form will obey whoever is closest that has the proper accord with you,” she said wearily. “From what I can read of the change, I believe your host body can survive for two Earth days until it must be committed to stasis. That should be sufficient for your needs.”

Not doubting her words, Malachi lifted himself from Conor’s body, amazed to see it remain in an animated state.

Ignoring his mist form, she pointed to the bed, glancing at the still animated shell in disgust. “Go lie on the bed,” she commanded reluctantly, unsurprised when the demon’s host body did as she ordered.

Malachi hovered over the body, looking down at it with growing affection. It was not his best host, but the body was all his for the moment, which made it infinitely special. He went back into the body and was able to immediately sit up.

“I have to admit, this is a great gift,” Malachi conceded.

She nodded and turned to leave.

“So would have been spending the sleep cycle with you,” he added firmly, saying the words loudly to her rigid back. To his great disappointment, the female he both desired and feared walked out the door and never turned around.

Chapter 18

The second wave rescue crew was meeting in the conference room one last time before deployment.

“Tell me again why we are meeting,” Rena demanded, walking quickly to keep up with Seta, who hated being late.

“Captain Synar wants to discuss the details again about his ruse. The intention is to pass the medic off as another Synar who allegedly was a black market slave trader,” Seta repeated. “The explanation is not going to change with more retelling. I know no more than this.”

Seta’s mind was going over the puzzle of such an odd plan when she opened the door. Inside she saw a tall male with broad shoulders and a very thin braid trailing down the center of his back. With hands behind him, he appeared to be surveying the conference room furnishings as if he intended to purchase them. Such familiar arrogance about all he surveyed could only belong to one owner, Seta decided, frowning and sighing for having to deal with him today when her mind was on more important matters.

“Captain Warro,” Seta said as respectfully as possible to cover up her annoying reaction of nervousness every time she confronted the male. Hearing Rena sigh in resignation beside her brought a reluctant soft smile to her face as she sighed herself. If she could have discreetly glared at her dual-birth sibling she would have, but Seta didn’t want the Siren to know how much his mere presence bothered either one of them. That would just feed his already colossal ego.

“Seta,” Ji said softly, ignoring her title as he acknowledged how happy he was to see her again. His gaze raked the length of the female that haunted him, no matter how many others he bedded to try to remove his unwanted interest in her. Apparently, his body was as stubborn as the female object of his bonding interest. If Seta Trax would just once consent to bonding, he felt sure that would banish his irrational need.

“You look…well,” he said, wondering if his relief about the matter was obvious to her.

Seta bowed her head respectfully. “Indeed, I find I am well here on the Liberator. Have you come to discuss the mission?”

Why had it never occurred to her that she would see him on the Liberator at some point? Of course, Captain Ji Warro would have to come to see Captain Synar. Ship-to-ship transmissions might be picked up by the Lotharians. The risk was too great, so he had to come in person. Why else would he be here?

Ji walked to where the females were standing just inside the door, nodding his head to the always frowning Rena, whom he had not missed having on his ship at all. That particular female’s energy made him wary.

Her sibling made him…Ji moved his gaze back to Seta, looking down into her gaze from his much greater height.
Just once
, he thought, falling into her eyes as he always did.
Be with me just once Seta Trax and remove this curse of desire that neither of us has time for in our lives.

When Seta continued to stare up at him with no longing at all in her gaze Ji turned on his heel, too frustrated with her non-reaction to his nearness to continue looking directly at her.
Damn female.
Was she dead on the inside?
He was Siren. All females wanted him. All females except Seta Trax apparently.

As he had foreseen happening the day he first met her, Seta was proving to be nothing but trouble, in every way possible. That’s why he was here on a ship no bigger than most Guardian level shuttles. After not sleeping for several cycles, he had concluded that he just couldn’t let Seta go on a dangerous mission without going along with her. It was impossible at the moment with the way things were between them, whether Seta conceded to their connection or not.

“I have volunteered to be your—
shuttle pilot
,” Ji said distastefully, pronouncing the last with the same disbelief he had the first time he realized that he simply had to go along.

He looked away then to keep from glaring at Seta, since he knew it would have little or no effect. It was bad enough that he had been reliant on sleep aides ever since the Ethosian female had left the Paladin. And bad enough that no other female could pleasure him or appease him anymore…the last one he’d sent away barely satisfied.

He hated this…hated it truly.

Ji hadn’t been sure what would happen in his command with his worry for a single female cranked up so high. He was prone to imagining all manner of evil befalling Seta, who would mostly be one more helpless female among the Lotharians who saw the entire gender as mere commodities.

Not trusting himself to refrain from massive aggression against the males of that disgusting planet if harm was to come to her, Ji had turned control of his ship and its weapon arsenal over to his Commander. The Paladin, as well as the Dread Nought, was under strict orders from the Peace Alliance not to deploy their destructive weapons against the planet. Lotharius was thought not to have the capacity to attack beyond their atmosphere, but Ji had learned the hard way that the Peace Alliance was often misinformed about such matters.

From their unusual reticence to meet hostility with hostility, Ji had discerned that the high ambassador’s daughter was not the only valuable thing on the cursed planet. However, Peace Alliance Command was not saying why global restructuring was not an option. If it meant saving the female standing in front of him, Ji wasn’t sure what would or would not be ruled out for him—which was why he was here.

“Captain Synar and I have discussed this at length. Next to him, my level of flight skill is highest. With so many Peace Alliance officers at risk, I consider it my duty to help rescue the rescuers if it becomes necessary, not to mention we hope to have the high ambassador’s daughter with us as well by then,” Ji explained, shrugging off Seta’s reaction as she returned his glare with a disbelieving one of her own.

What did he care for her opinion? It was not her call
, he thought, seeing her resistance long before her body manifested it in actions.

Seta crossed her arms, a reflex action to deny his statements, but before she could formulate any answer, the door opened again. Everyone else involved in the second wave of the mission poured through it.

Seeing Warro talking to his lieutenant, Synar immediately walked to the Siren and handed him a cup of what Dorian had given him. It looked like tea but actually was the strongest alcoholic brew the planet of Rylen created. Dorian had used it for many years to constrain his physical needs because it contained a libido stifling agent. Hopefully, it would help the unmated Siren cope with his current situation.

Ji took the cup from Synar and sipped the liquid, nodding respectfully to the Liberator’s captain. Looking across the room, he spotted the true source of his relief.

He watched as Lieutenant Dorian Zade nodded back when he lifted the cup and smiled in gratitude. The hybrid son of Sarinnea was fairly notorious for his voluntary celibacy. Warro thought it would be preferable to be dead than without physical comfort.

On Rylen, the organics grown in the planet’s soil contained chemicals that naturally kept sexual energy in check. It was stifling enough that most Siren males naturally got along. On a ship where one Siren was mated, and one was not, well that was a bit more complicated. Lieutenant Zade’s relationship to Commander Jet hadn’t progressed to a safe point yet. Warro admitted that he was a bit tortured by the vibrations the Siren and his mate created with each other. Mostly because he wanted them for himself, and he wanted them with Seta Trax. That’s why measures like the Rylen brew were needed to keep an energetic balance.