Surrendered Read online

  “It’s all right, sweetheart,” Neh’sa heard him murmur as he stroked her hair. “It’s all right. Whatever it is, get it out. Just get it all out.”

  It occurred to her then, in the midst of her pain, that she had never cried for Heloth’s death before. When it had first happened, she’d been too numb—disbelieving of the evil sequence of events that had torn her lover from her. And afterwards, she’d thrown herself into the clinic, into memorializing his memory and into her anti-cruelty and anti-pain collar causes. She’d worked herself to exhaustion almost every single night that first year after he was gone. All so she could fall into a dreamless, death-like sleep instead of facing the pain of her loss.

  Now it was as though ten years of grief had finally caught up with her. She buried her face in Thorn’s broad chest and sobbed, not caring that it wasn’t proper protocol to allow her slave to comfort her this way. It was as though the pain of Heloth’s death had been chasing her all these cycles and she’d been afraid to turn around and face it until now—until she had a pair of warm, solid arms to hold her and help her bear it.

  Thorn didn’t try to stop her weeping. He only held her close and stroked her hair, whispering soothing nothings, telling her everything would be all right, that she was going to be okay.

  At last, Neh’sa felt as though she’d cried herself completely out. She felt hollow inside, like someone had scooped out all her internal organs and left nothing but empty air in their place. Her head ached and her eyes felt swollen. In fact, all of her ached. Her body was letting her know she’d pushed it too far tonight, drained herself to the point of exhaustion and beyond.

  Goddess she was tired!

  Dimly, she was aware of Thorn sitting her down on the blue, fuzzy Gerna-grass mat that covered the bathroom floor which lived off the condensed steam and stray water-droplets that inevitably dripped on it after a bath or shower.

  This is it, she thought dully. Now he’ll leave me to myself to try and collect my emotions. Goddess, how could I have shamed myself so badly? I’ve ruined his training for certain this time. He’ll never respect me or want to submit to me as his Mistress again after the display I put on tonight!

  But to her surprise, Thorn didn’t leave. Instead he hummed softly under his breath as he ran hot water into the huge soaking tub. Scented steam began to rise and after a moment he came back to her and started taking off her clothing.

  “What…what are you doing?” Neh’sa tried to make her voice stern but it came out wavering and uncertain.

  “Giving you a bath,” he replied matter-of-factly. “I know I’m turning the tables here—you’re usually the one who takes care of me. But tonight I’m going to take care of you, Mistress. Because I think you need it.”

  He didn’t make it a question or ask if his actions were acceptable to her. Neh’sa tried to find it in herself to protest but somehow she couldn’t. She let him undress her in silence, not protesting a bit even when he scooped her up as easily as he might lift a child.

  “All right now, Mistress,” he rumbled as he lowered her down into the hot, sweetly scented water. “Let me know if this is too warm for you.”

  “No, it…it’s perfect,” Neh’sa whispered, finding her voice at last.

  “Good. Then just relax and let me take care of you,” Thorn ordered.

  And to her surprise, Neh’sa did.

  * * * * *

  She didn’t say a thing as he bathed her, Thorn noted. She just closed her eyes and allowed him to wash her in silence. He used the same synthi-sponge she always used when she bathed him, stroking it tenderly along her slender limbs and over her narrow shoulders and back and respectfully over her breasts and belly and thighs.

  Before washing her hair, he wrung out a cool facecloth in the sink and put it over her eyes, which were red and wet from crying. Her long, dark tresses rippled in the water and Thorn couldn’t help thinking how beautiful she was with her full curves on display.

  Gods, had he ever felt so much for a female before? Only once. And that had been long ago…so long he could almost make himself forget it. He’d never thought to have those feelings again but Neh’sa had changed all that. Somehow when his Mistress had touched his body, she had touched his soul too.

  Thorn made himself get on with the business at hand. His heart hurt for Neh’sa’s pain, but he was glad to have a chance to take care of her for a change. She was always so careful with him—washing and touching him without allowing him to return the favor. Now he relished the chance to pamper her and show her some of the devotion he felt by bathing her and washing her hair.

  When her hair was finished, Thorn allowed her to soak a little longer and then, when the water began to grow cold, he lifted her out of the tub and set her on her feet while he reached for a towel.

  The moment her feet touched the blue grass mat, she gave a little hiss of pain.

  Thorn looked at her sharply.

  “What is it, Mistress? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing…” She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered in the cool air. “I’m just a little achy is all. When I use too much of my power…expend too much energy—” She broke off abruptly, as though this wasn’t something she felt she ought to be talking about—at least not to him.

  “Like I said, you nearly killed yourself.” Thorn frowned and added, “It’s all right—I can tell you’re not all Yonnite anymore than I’m all Kindred. You don’t have to tell me what you are—what gives you your power—if you don’t want to.” The Goddess knew he certainly hadn’t told her much about his own half-heritage.

  “I’m half Lylasian,” she said hesitantly. We have empathic abilities—well, full blooded Lylasians do. I can’t feel all emotions—only pain—the pain of others, I mean.”

  Thorn thought of how she’d told him he was broken inside when she first saw him at the auction—she must have somehow tapped into the pain of his past. The pain he took great care never to think of himself. And how difficult must it be for her to live on a planet like Yonnie Six where there was pain being inflicted all around her all the time?

  It must be like living in the lowest level of the Seven Hells, he thought grimly. It gave him new insight into her methods as a Mistress. She must feel every pain she inflicted as her own—it must certainly give her the unique ability to push a submissive right to the edge without quite going over, as she had done with him on several occasions.

  “Is that also what gives you your healing abilities? Your Lylasian blood?” he asked, choosing not to comment on her pain remark. It was too much to get into now.

  Neh’sa nodded.

  “My mother, who was full blooded Lylasian, was a much better healer than I am.” A sorrowful look passed over her face. “If I was the healer she was I could have saved…” she cleared her throat. “Could have saved so many people.”

  “Including the body slave who died? The one you dedicated your clinic to?” Thorn asked, deciding to take a chance.

  She frowned at him. “How do you know about Heloth?”

  “I don’t—don’t know anymore about him than that he died and you miss him.” He began rubbing her dry with a big, puffy red towel, admiring the contrast of the scarlet fabric against her pale skin. “You can tell me if you want,” he added, in as off-hand a tone as he could manage.

  Neh’sa frowned and lifted her chin.

  “No, as it happens I do not wish to tell you my private affairs, Thorn. Nor is it appropriate for you to ask.”

  “Too bad we’re not being appropriate tonight then,” Thorn murmured and swung her up into his arms.

  “Thorn? Wait—what are you doing? Put me down,” she demanded.

  “All right.” He carried her into the bedchamber and put her face down on the towels he’d had the house-droids lay out on the bed. Then he picked up a bottle of hisen-flower massage oil gel.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Neh’sa demanded. Now that the worst of her grief had expended itself, she seemed to want to go back to