Surrendered Read online

  Though it had been part of his job in the past, he didn’t particularly like lying and he really didn’t like it now. It rubbed him the wrong way to swear total honestly and obedience to a female he meant ultimately to betray. Even now Greed’lik had gone to prepare a rendezvous where they would meet once he’d gotten into the Library of All Knowledge and his mission was complete.

  What would Neh’sa think if she knew?

  It doesn’t matter what she thinks, he told himself fiercely, looking down at his bloody knees. And it doesn’t matter what you have to do to get the information about the Hive. The fate of the Kindred and the Earth depend on it. So get over your distaste and just do whatever you Goddess-damned have to in order to get this mission done!

  The hum of the engines made him look up from his contemplation of his shredded knees. The damn razor-gravel had really done a number on him. Of course, Kindred healed fast but that didn’t mean getting his skin nearly ripped off his body in places was fun. Still, he’d lived through worse—he would survive.

  I’m lucky the damn gravel didn’t get to my shaft, he thought dryly. That might have been a pain even I couldn’t ignore. But he’d carefully kept his knees together when he had slid into position to catch Neh’sa with his back. He’d had at least that much self-preservation left.

  Speaking of his shaft, he’d been lucky that the knot of leather around it had been connected to the bands around his wrists which his new Mistress had untied earlier. He’d been able to slip it off along with the steel-leather thongs. Otherwise he might still be running around with a ridiculous and completely inappropriate hard-on.

  Looking down at his still naked crotch, he hoped he would be given a pair of trousers without the air conditioning when they reached her estate on Yonnie Six.

  “Are you settled?” Her low, feminine voice broke his silent contemplation.

  Thorn looked up at her—though not very far. Though he was seated and she was standing, they were still nearly eye-to-eye due to their height difference.

  She’d put on a new pair of boots, he saw—these had lower heels than the others which made her even shorter. Goddess, she really was a tiny little thing. Tiny and delicate and beautiful…

  Stop it! he told himself sternly.

  “I’m fine,” he said harshly and cleared his throat. “I mean, yes Mistress—I’m settled.”

  “Alright then let’s get you cleaned up and see what we can do about those wounds.”

  She left the small luxurious cabin for a moment and came back holding a large basin of steaming water.

  “Wait, I can do that,” he protested as she knelt on the floor before him and picked up a sponge.

  “No, you’re my responsibility now.” She looked up at him, her large dark eyes serious. “I own you so I have to take care of you. That’s part of being a good Mistress.”

  A good Mistress? Thorn stared at her uncertainly as she began to sponge the blood off his lacerated knees. She seemed to know exactly what she was doing—her touch was gentle but firm and she was very thorough. Her hands when she touched him were warm—almost hot—but it was a soothing heat. For a moment he thought he saw a pinkish glow emanating from her palms as she touched him… but that didn’t make any sense. Thorn decided he must have imagined it.

  It wasn’t her apparent medical knowledge that occupied his thoughts though—it was her words and actions.

  Whoever heard of a Yonnie Six female caring about the state of her slave? All the horror stories he had heard made him wonder. He had expected to be bought by a sadist, put in a pain collar, and tortured within an inch of his life, in that order.

  Instead his new Mistress was kneeling before him, tending to his injuries as tenderly as a parent might tend a child. Her actions put everything he knew or thought he knew about the Yonnite culture into doubt and Thorn didn’t know how to feel about that.

  “Well, that razor gravel certainly did a number on your knees and feet,” Neh’sa said, frowning. “I’m afraid these injuries are going to be challenging to heal.”

  “No they won’t,” Thorn said confidently. “I only need to clean them and they’ll be fine. Kindred are fast healers.”

  “Kindred and what else?” She arched one perfectly formed black eyebrow at him as she sponged gently at the sole of one foot. “You never told me the other part of your heritage.”

  “That’s right, because I was too busy being a disrespectful bastard. Sorry about that, um, Mistress.”

  Thorn took a deep breath wondering how she was going to take what he was about to tell her. He considered lying to her but he had already done enough of that for one day.

  “My mother…” He had to stop for a moment to clear his throat—he almost never allowed himself to speak of his past aloud. “My mother,” he forced himself to continue, “was Enfuego,” he said in a low voice, watching to see her reaction.

  She frowned. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that people.”

  “From the Double Nerix star system,” Thorn told her, feeling a stab of relief. “We have…control issues at times.”

  “Oh?” she raised an eyebrow again. “How so?”

  Thorn shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not a problem I have. Or not one I’ve had for a long time, anyway.”

  She stared at him intently for a long moment and he wondered if she was guessing at the “control issues” he’d had in the past. It didn’t matter now, though, he told himself. He’d kept the fire inside him in check for years—he wasn’t going to let it out now.

  When Neh’sa spoke at last, her tone was deceptively soft.

  “I can tell you have very tight control over yourself, Thorn.” She finished his feet and knees and straightened up to begin bathing the lacerations on his bare shoulders and upper arms. Her touch was warm…soothing. “You’re going to have to let some of that go if we’re going to make you into a good submissive.”

  “Let go of my control?” Thorn gave an incredulous bark of laughter. “Believe me, Mistress, you don’t want that.”

  She eyed him sternly.

  “Actually, I do.” Her eyes softened as she finished cleaning his shoulders and dipped the sponge into the steaming basin again. “Look, Thorn, I can tell the idea of losing control—of giving it up to someone else—is frightening to you. But it can also be very freeing, especially for a male wound as tightly as you seem to be. You’ll see.”

  Thorn made a noncommittal noise and then sat quietly as she cupped his cheek in her hand and dabbed lightly at the cut over his cheekbone. Once more he could feel a healing kind of heat radiating from her hands…and he could feel his body reacting to her gentle touch.

  It disturbed him that he couldn’t seem to stop himself from getting hard when she was near him, touching him. Goddess, she was so close—her perfect face and those lush red lips…not to mention her scent which was driving him crazy…

  “I’m already giving you more control than anyone has ever had over me,” he pointed out in a slightly strangled voice as she smoothed antibiotic cream over the small wound on his cheek. “I’ve never allowed another to tend my injuries since I was a small child.”

  “There’s nothing childish about giving power over your body to another,” Neh’sa told him seriously. “It takes a very strong person to allow someone else to direct your fate. You might even say it takes more strength to submit than to dominate.”

  Thorn could certainly believe that was true. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, wishing she would stop touching him and wishing she would never stop at the same time. He could feel the fire, buried so long within him, flaring to life with each soft stroke of her small hands. Gods how he wished she would touch him lower! But that would mean giving up even more control because he was reasonably certain he wasn’t going to be allowed to touch her back.

  He wondered how it would be to sit back and let her stroke him without touching or kissing or stroking her in return. The thought gave him an uncomfortable feeling—his natural male do