The hand reached his face and something soft and cool and slightly damp caressed his forehead. Thrace jerked again—this time in surprise.
“See you big silly? It’s just a wet cloth. Just to make you feel better.” The girl spoke to him in a soft, coaxing voice, almost as though she was talking to a wounded animal or a sick child. “Not gonna hurt you, big fella,” she went on, stroking his hot cheeks with the cloth too. “Just trying to help you get well.”
Thrace stared at her uncertainly. He had nearly choked the life out of her—why was she touching him so gently? And why was she talking to him like he could barely understand him? He opened his mouth again.
“Un…tie,” he finally managed to croak.
“I can’t do that, sorry,” she said.
“Un…tie!” Thrace demanded more forcefully, though it hurt his throat.
“I can’t and it’s your own fault.” The girl frowned at him. “I can’t let you go, not after you did this.” She touched her bruised throat with her fingertips again. “Not that I think you did it on purpose,” she went on quickly before he could formulate a reply. “But I’m pretty much the only person who feels that way. The rest of the crew all think you’re some kind of crazed psychopathic monster and honestly, they didn’t have that high of an opinion of you even before you tried to strangle me. Because you’re male, I mean.” She sighed and shook her head. “If I let you up to roam around the ship I’d have a mutiny on my hands.”
Thrace looked at her appraisingly. So she was the captain of a ship—which was probably where he was being held. The question was, how the hell did he get loose and get out of here? Experimentally, he tried the manacles again but they were incredibly strong—some kind of alloy maybe. Thrace doubted he’d be able to break them.
“Those are plasti-dura-steel,” she said conversationally. “We used them last cycle when we transported a Gox. Have you seen them? They’re these huge, hairy beasts—about your size but they have two hundred times the strength of a normal male. So you might as well give up. You’re going to be manacled to your cot until I can be sure you’re not a risk to me or my crew.”
Thrace opened his mouth but his voice didn’t want to work at all now. Damn it, when would the paralytic wear off? Or were his problems vocalizing due to the merciless bout of agony he’d experienced when the slaver used the pain collar on him? Either way, when he tried to speak, all that came out was a croak.
“Look, you’ve been out for hours,” the girl said. “Are you thirsty?”
Thrace tried to say “yes” but again, only a dry croak came out this time.
“Don’t try to speak—your voice needs to recover like the rest of you,” the girl admonished. “Just nod your head if you want a drink.”
Stiffly, he nodded.
“Good. Here.” She was already holding a long silver metal container with a flexible straw stuck in it. She put it to his lips but Thrace turned his head away as more memories washed over him.
Drink it up, there’s a good slave, crooned the Master’s physician. It’s to relax you…it’ll get you ready, make things a little easier…
The girl frowned, clearly not understanding his silent refusal of the drink.
“I thought you said you were thirsty? Don’t worry—it’s just nutrient water. See?” She wrapped her lush, berry-colored lips around the clear straw and sucked, letting Thrace see her drink and swallow. “See?” she said again when she was finished.
He looked at her for a long moment. Surely she wouldn’t have taken a drink of the stuff herself if it was drugged or poisoned. It was just that his head was still fuzzy and the past kept getting tangled up with the present.
The girl looked at him and held the cup patiently, waiting for him to make up his mind. At last Thrace decided he had no choice but to trust her. Slowly, he inclined his head.
“Good,” she said briskly. “I’m glad you’re willing to at least try it.”
She placed the straw gently between his lips and held the cup for him while Thrace took an experimental sip.
The minute the cold, slightly sweet liquid hit his tongue, his thirst exploded. He drank quickly, almost gulping in his eagerness.
“Whoa…whoa—take it easy, big fella,” the girl cautioned. “You don’t want to make yourself sick. Take it slowly—there’s more where that came from.”
Thrace finished what was in the cup and lay back, letting his head rest on the pillow.
“Good. That’s good.” The girl seemed pleased.
Though she wasn’t really a girl, Thrace thought, studying her. He estimated her age to be somewhere in the mid to late twenties—younger than himself but old enough to know what she was doing. She had a calm self-confidence about her that was impressive.
She was studying him as well.
“I guess I’d better come up with a name for you.” She sounded thoughtful. “I can’t keep calling you big fella and big guy.”
He glared at her.
“Have…name,” he croaked, finally getting a few words out. “Thrace.”
“Thrace, huh? Okay.” She nodded. “I’m Trin—Captain Lonnara Trin of The Alacrity. I wasn’t sure if your people had names or not—some species don’t, you know.” She shrugged. “Anyway, you’ll have to excuse me. I’m from Zetta Prime so I don’t know much about males. Also, I’ve never owned a slave before so there’s going to be a pretty steep learning curve here.”
Thrace glared at her, his arms tensing in the manacles until his biceps bulged and the chains rattled menacingly.
“Not…” He choked, his voice failing him again. “Not…slave!” The harsh words were tearing his throat to ribbons but he’d be damned if he let her think she owned him. “Not…slave!”
She frowned. “So you weren’t raised in the Carnal Houses and trained to serve all your life?”
He shook his head violently.
“All right.” She nodded. “I believe that. But I don’t believe you’re not a slave. Why else did you call me ‘Master’ when you tried to choke me?”
Thrace subsided, looking away. Even if he could have talked, there was no way in all the Seven Hells that he would tell her about his past.
“Uh-huh.” Trin was looking at him thoughtfully. “Hit a nerve, didn’t I? Don’t suppose you care to tell me what happened to your last master, do you?”
He turned his head to look at her, letting all the hated and rage show in his eyes.
Trin flinched away from his look of hate.
“All right, so you don’t want to talk about it. Fine. We can discuss it later. But just so you know, I’m not unchaining you until I know what I’m dealing with.”
Thrace just kept glaring. Never—he was never going to speak aloud what had happened back so many cycles ago. To speak memories aloud was to give them new life…new power. And this slim girl with the creamy brown skin and big, dark eyes already had much too much power over him to start with.
He rattled his chains again menacingly. Not that she would have him in her power for long. Thrace was going to be certain of that.
* * * * *
Trin watched the emotions play over his strong features. Clearly he was angry that she’d dared to question him. Well, he could be angry all he wanted—she wasn’t letting him up until she had some answers.
He shifted on the cot, his big body straining against his bonds. His biceps bulged and his torso and hips moved as he shifted, causing his abdominals to ripple impressively.
Trin had never seen a being who was so muscular before—with each muscle group so well defined. It was…interesting. It almost made her want to touch him—to pet his smooth, tan skin which was several shades lighter than her own—but something held her back.
She’d been treating him like one of her horses—like a big, dumb animal that needed patience and understanding. But there was a fierce intelligent blazing in those extraordinary silvery-blue eyes. It made her question her people’s long held belief that males were little better than animals with limited understanding and brainpower.
Maybe it would be better just to leave him alone for a while. She was about to get up and go when she realized what all the shifting around was about. He wasn’t just trying to get free—he’d been out for hours and a few minutes ago he’d drunk a huge cup of liquid. He needed to relieve himself.