Territory Slaves

Chapter Six - Touch

After a cold shower and lukewarm mush for breakfast, Jahhan waited for the cell door to open. When the cell freed him, the lift acknowledged his fingerprint and automatically took him to the correct floor.

At first, he’d had a hard time memorizing the complicated route through the corridors to his lessons, and he had been forced to walk the route until he collapsed as punishment for getting lost and being late for his lessons. Thankfully, all his lessons were on a single floor and of course he knew how to find each lesson room now.

He enjoyed the safe uniformity of the morning routine, even though a preprogrammed system controlled his every movement. It was most of the rest of his days he hated.

He entered the bright room with his eyes down, quietly took his place away from the ranked students, and began the warm up exercises. The instructor’s voice cut over the murmur of the other students. “Sesul asked me to inform his slave to expect him at the slave’s cell after the slave’s final class.” His spoke as if in general to the class. Even though he hadn’t been acknowledged, Jahhan bowed. Then broke into a cold sweat.

Sesul, despite his threat not to neglect him, hadn’t spent much time with him in the last few weeks. Sesul had administered punishment twice during his lessons, bending Jahhan over a desk for a caning in front of the other students, a mockery of his adulthood. The memory still made Jahhan sick with humiliation. He hadn’t seen Sesul otherwise. And no one came to Jahhan’s cell except to escort him to the session room. He had the entire day of classes to ponder the upcoming session with his master.

The instructor began directing them in their exercises. Jahhan had been in good shape before, but his muscles were becoming more toned with the vigorous daily exercise, even as he grew thinner from his light meals.

Jahhan never thought they would spend so much effort on him. He had thought his days would be filled with terrified boredom, waiting for rape and torture. Not filled with morning exercises, Bese language lessons, Territory and Baceti history, Territory and Baceti current affairs, protocol and obedience lessons, domestic service lessons, and sexual technique instruction.

Though they kept his days filled, and he spent most of his time around people, he was alone. Other students wore tunics (he remained the only unranked, naked slave), could speak with one another and look each other in the eyes, though their freedoms decreased around higher ranked slaves and free people. They didn’t have enough rank to grant him permission to speak, though, and they never spoke to him unless they had to for the class.

They had personal screens. Unlike classes in Matujen, the screens taught the lessons, while the instructors worked with the students having difficulties. He borrowed a screen from the instructor for each class, but could not take it from the class. He couldn’t study in the evenings and he fell behind, especially when he missed days for a session and healing.

Other students ate real food in cafeterias. He ate his tasteless mash in his cell twice a day. Hunger gnawed at him between meals, especially as he studied while waiting for the other students to return from the midday meal. He sat on the floor away from the other students on their cushions. He could at least look at the instructors, but not speak to ask questions.

The classes were filled with Matujens since the instructors spoke the students’ native language while the students learned Bese. The screens and instructors had filtered more Bese into the lessons as time passed. The Matujens knew of him, knew he hadn’t been given the name “slave” at birth. They went by Matujen names, maybe even their birth names. No one ever told him he couldn’t have his name, but no one ever used it.

The instructors reviewed his performance and assigned punishments. Usually at the end of their ten day week, someone met him after his last class and administered the punishments. If the fault was too great, he’d be taken to the session room. He wished he could grow accustomed to the punishments, but each one was excruciating. Walking past the Matujen students with welts or bruises never got easier either. No other student suffered such punishments.

Jahhan had also endured three non-punishment sessions with unknown torturers, and a traitorous, pathetic part of his mind wished Sesul or Lehu worked on him instead. A particularly foolish wish since none of the other torturers made him feel so broken, begging to be violated, like Sesul had.

The exercises ended and the students filed out of the room. Jahhan waited for dismissal, his face hot from more than just the exertion, remembering pleading with Sesul and the painful intrusion into his body. He forced himself to practice Bese in his head, to push out memories of that intrusion and those that had come since.

His language class helped clear his head. Each student concentrated on the screen in front of them and listened to earpieces sounding out the words for them. Jahhan was actually allowed to add his voice to the others murmuring around him, repeating Bese words and sentences.

The history lesson distracted him further. They had finished the fairly mundane history of Mijre’s rise to power. Princes schemed. Mijre won, and preceded to rule an expanding Territory for the next 200 years. Because he was so isolated, this was the first time Jahhan discovered their slow aging process. He learned it was caused by artificial means and could only be afforded by the wealthiest people. The discovery left him feeling cold. Would they extend a slave’s life so they could torture him for another 200 years? His owner was wealthy enough to be able to waste the money.

Jahhan didn’t know how much of the rest of the history they taught could be believed. Even they admitted their advanced data archival materials degraded over time, and their recorded history extended back 10,000 years.

The story was certainly hard to believe. Inhuman, technologically advanced aliens found humans and made them slaves. Several thousand years later, the slaves overthrew the aliens and killed every alien they found. The humans had been taught a lot about the alien technology during their subjugation, but a great deal of knowledge was lost during the uprising and the chaos that followed. After deposing the aliens, the humans battled each other for power. Losers were enslaved. Why not? Slavery was all humans had known.

During the chaos, groups of humans escaped to planets terraformed by the aliens. Records containing the locations of several terraformed planets as well as the planet of human origin were lost—either hidden by the people before they escaped, destroyed during the chaos, or destroyed by the aliens as they lost their empire. According to the Territory version of history, Safar was one of the planets colonized by refugees since the chaos happened between 3800 and 4000 years ago and Safar archeologists had never found human fossils dating further back than a little more than 3000 years. According to Territory historians, planets colonized by the aliens before the revolt, would have older human fossils.

Eventually, the people who won the battle for power settled their borders, and formed the Council to prevent the Territories from falling into another devastating full-scale conflict. After that rulers came and went, minor wars changed borders, Territories grew or were consumed.

Jahhan found the history fascinating, accurate or not, and could lose himself in study. He had no such luck with current events lessons. These were tales he’d heard before. The power hungry and the powerless. Posturing and maneuvering. The information about Mijre and Baceti Territory dripped with propaganda. They even tried to claim Mijre had vigorously opposed taking people from Safar as slaves.

Protocol, obedience, and service lessons grated on what little pride he managed to cling to, but he applied himself completely to learning. Failure to observe proper protocol to a superior resulted in far more severe punishment than forgetting who turned Baceti Province into Baceti Territory.

The last class of the day was usually more pleasant than he would have guessed before his experience in Baceti. Sexual technique training required touch. Like the other classes, the other students were Matujen. Unlike the other classes, they had to interact with him at times. The group was small and comprised of people well-suited to their purpose. They came from brothels on Matujen and handled the sudden change in their lives with more ease than anyone else Jahhan had seen. He gathered life in Matujen brothels wasn’t secure or comfortable. One man openly considered Baceti an improvement over the grim brothel that raised him.

They touched him impersonally, when it was required, but gently. He drew the sensation of warm human skin against his around himself like a plush blanket. The strange comfort was denied to him that day though. The day’s lesson was screen taught.

Too soon, the lesson ended and Jahhan was released to his fate.

Sesul met him at his cell as promised and informed him he had too many infractions for a mere weekly punishment. Jahhan had no idea how he’d earned so many. Sesul, in a rare gesture of helpfulness, gave him the screen listing infractions. Dozens of them cited disrespect of the instructor by making eye contact. He’d been told he could make eye contact before.

He returned the screen to Sesul and followed him. His situation was getting worse. The rules multiplied, the instructors increasingly failed to inform him, and the punishments wore him down and affected his work, increasing his errors even more.

Despite his best efforts, he would lose the game, his life, and his children’s safety. His wife would meet Sesul and Lehu in the session room.

Trapped in the paralyzing thought, Jahhan’s pace slowed a bit too much. Sesul stopped and turned to study him. “Are you distressed?” he asked mildly. “You have permission to speak.”

“Thank you, master. Yes. I’m confused. I’m given rules, then punished for following them, master.”

“You want consistency?”

“I don’t know what to do, master.”

Before his mind registered movement, Sesul had him by the throat against the corridor wall. He head rang from the impact with the wall.

“You do what you’re told,” Sesul snarled. He hit Jahhan in the gut with a quick, hard jab before resting his palm on the wall beside Jahhan’s head. The blow forced the remaining air out of Jahhan’s lungs. His body tried to fold, tightening the pressure on his throat. He clutched at the hand around his throat. Surely a punishable action. He forced his hands to let go.

“Look at me.” Jahhan fixed his tearing gaze onto Sesul’s hard sapphire eyes. “Please your superiors. If we desire your pain, then we’ll hurt you. If your actions displease us, then we’ll hurt you. Whether or not your pain is due to our pleasure or displeasure is none of your concern. Obey or suffer; obey and suffer. Never question your superiors.”

Sesul backhanded him almost offhandedly, knocking his head against the wall. “Keep your eyes where they belong.” He released Jahhan and stalked down the corridor.

Jahhan steadied himself quickly and followed Sesul to the session room, breathing hard and cold with fear. He’d angered his master before a session.

An impressive array of vicious implements waited for him on a table in the session room. He shuddered. The shackles arranged wide apart on a steel frame didn’t make him feel any better. Blood ran down his chin from a split in his lip. He didn’t know if he was allowed to wipe it. Considering blood might cover the room in a couple of hours, it hardly mattered. He let it be. He walked to the frame to wait for Sesul to shackle him.

Sesul divested himself of his wrap, tunic and gloves, dropping them into the arms of a slave. He slipped an earpiece into his ear, in order to hear the desires of Mijre, watching beyond the false wall with her elite guests. He listened for a moment, then said to the air, “The slave decided to whine.”

For a few minutes no one moved, then slaves entered the room and removed the torture devices, to Jahhan’s confusion. More slaves brought an elegant chaise and arranged several bright pillows on it, and one handed Sesul a handkerchief. Jahhan wondered what punishment running would be earn him.

After the slaves left them, Sesul approached him. “Look at me.” That wasn’t unusual. Jahhan was often encouraged to be free with his eyes in session, so the torturers could better gauge his suffering. But Sesul’s eyes were transformed—jewel-edged sharpness replaced by a warmth Jahhan had never seen. Jahhan took an involuntary step back and Sesul’s eyes narrowed a fraction. Jahhan quickly stepped forward again.

“Our owner thinks I should forgive you for our quarrel in the corridor.” Sesul dabbed his chin and lip with the handkerchief, folded it and tucked it into a pocket, then guided Jahhan to the chaise.

Sesul pushed him back until he was reclined on the pillows, then knelt between his legs. He reached out to Jahhan’s face. He flinched, but Sesul only brushed his long hair off his cheek, then ran his fingers down Jahhan’s neck and across his collar bone. Jahhan lay tense as a strung bow, staring over Sesul’s shoulder.

“Look at me.” Sesul said for the third time that day, but without harshness. He began speaking to him in a silky, warm tone, assuring him he could relax just for now, that he could enjoy himself just for a time.

Kindness in this place, and especially in Sesul, had to be a lie to sharpen his agony later or to amuse the spectators. But after the unrelenting callousness he’d endured the last few months, he felt a response being dragged out of him.

He managed to fight the lulling touch and voice until Sesul began working the tension out of his shoulder and chest muscles with skilled hands. The loosening of the tension that had been a part of him so long was too much for him to resist. He sank into the cushions.

Sesul’s hands worked down his stomach, across his groin, and over his thighs before sliding back up to his hips. Soft fabric, warmed by Sesul’s body, brushed his chest as Sesul leaned close. He touched Jahhan’s lips with his own, then whispered, “I forgive you.” Jahhan knew the head games his tormentors played, but he couldn’t stifle his relief.

The teasing lips traced a shivery path up Jahhan’s jaw until warm breath tickled his ear. “Roll over.”

Jahhan obeyed, still grateful for the comforting touch, even knowing what would come next would hurt.

Yet Sesul took his time, massaging his back and buttocks as he had the front. He lubricated him, opened him with gentle fingers, and entered him slowly. Pleasure twisted through Jahhan like a knife, cutting away at his self-respect. He whimpered from the hurt of that pleasure, and Sesul soothed him. In the end, Jahhan surrendered self and self-respect in trade for temporary peace.

He suffered later in his cell, shivering with more than the unending cold, still fearing for his family, and feeling like a traitor to himself. He hadn’t felt relieved when the session ended. He ached for more of Sesul’s warm touch, more false kindness. If Sesul always faked care after the pain, Jahhan thought he’d love the man.

Obey and suffer.

***
Kinnet caught Lehu after his conference with the chief military commanders of Railu and Duarya. She hooked an arm through his and walked with him to his room. Lehu thought nothing of the gesture until his door opened. A slave woman stood by his bedroom door. Lehu looked from the woman to Kinnet, then back to the woman.

“I've selected a slave for you," Kinnet explained in a low voice. Lehu stared at the woman standing with her eyes downcast.

“She’s terrified.” The woman actually trembled.

“So unterrify her,” Kinnet said, unfazed. “I insist.”

Sex on command. Not a new task for him, but he never expected the command from Kinnet. He thought the hurt in his eyes would affect her, even a little, but she just put a hand on his back and gently pushed him into the room.

“Take your time.” She sounded cheerful. The door closed behind her as she left him trapped in her scheme.

Lehu sighed. He’d forgotten. When Kinnet started asking disturbing questions, it was wise to avoid her for awhile.

Trying to appear like the woman’s presence didn’t unnerve him, he strolled into the room. He unwound his wrap, a habit when he reached his suite, and the woman flinched. He set his wrap and gloves on a table while studying her. Third rank slave: long-sleeved shirt, long pants, long tunic, without the wrap or gloves. Her honey blond hair hung over face, and he could see her pale complexion touched with rose and a hint of brown eyes through the locks of blond. Not a pleasure slave. Pleasure slaves didn’t wear anything particular to indicate their duties, but Lehu knew one when he saw one.

He stared at the woman, completely at a loss, which Kinnet would say was precisely the reason she had done this. Unbalance him, so he couldn’t make excuses and get away. As a commander of troops, an occasional diplomat, and a former pleasure slave, he should be able to handle one frightened woman.

“Please have a seat.” He indicated a small, cushion-covered chair. Comfortable, but with room for one. Hopefully, she would feel at ease knowing he didn’t intend to attack her at the first opportunity. The woman perched on the chair, touching as little as possible as if the fabric might molest her. “Would you like a beverage?”

She shook her head.

“What’s your name?”

“Aliesin, sir.”

“Please just call me Lehu.” He attempted a friendly smile.

No response.

“Listen, Aliesin, you can leave.” Her head snapped up, eyes on his, full of uncertain hope. “Even though if I allow you to leave, I’ll be displeasing my superior.”

She understood the seriousness of pleasing someone as powerful as Kinnet and the hope in her eyes died. “You’d be punished.”

“Well, maybe. Who knows. Kinnet is tolerant and patient with those in her care.” And it was her care that could leave him in situations like this. “I’m generally obedient to her wishes, but nonetheless if you cannot handle what she’s asked of us, I want you to leave. I’ll tell her you were charming, but I sent you away.”

Aliesin said nothing, obviously conflicted.

“Please be honest. Displeasing Kinnet would not be nearly as bad as hurting someone.”

“You hurt people all the time.” Her eyes widened the moment her words left her mouth. Obviously, whatever position she held as a slave didn’t require her to mind her tongue. She looked at his expression, then turned away, terrified.

He forced anger out of his expression and voice. She couldn’t understand. “I said displeasing Kinnet would not be so bad. Displeasing my owner is another story, and entirely out of the question. Fortunately, she has not given me any orders concerning you.”

“I’m sorry. . .”

She was more frightened than ever and less likely to give him a straight answer. He had to try a different approach.

“Tell me the truth,” he said with enough hardness to make her wince. He wanted her to take the command very seriously. In a softer tone, he asked, “Are you involved with anyone?”

“No,” she answered quietly. He figured Kinnet would have made sure she wasn’t ordering the woman to betray a trust.

“Interested in anyone?”

She considered, then shrugged, “Not really, no.”

“Attracted to men?”

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Yes.”

He frowned. “Have you . . . been with a man?” He hated asking such a personal question, but he would send her home straight away if she was a virgin.

“Yes. More . . . than one.” She blushed.

She was pretty when she blushed. His heart beat a little faster. Maybe he didn’t want to find a reason to send her home. He continued anyway. “Do you think I’m attractive?”

The blush deepened enough to answer his question. She said, “Of course.” As if only the blind wouldn’t.

A faint smiled curled his lips at her tone. He knew his effect on women. His looks and his brother’s had caught Mijre’s interest in the first place. Better if they had been plain. His smile faded. He had eased her nerves, but she wanted to leave. When he was sent to a patron, he had always just wanted to leave. How could he keep her?

“I think you should leave,” he said, deciding.

A frown creased her brow. “You may get into trouble.”

“I can handle Kinnet.” He rose. However much he hated disobeying her, the consequences were nothing compared to the consequences of disobeying Mijre. He’d forgive her for crossing a line and she’d forgive his disobedience. He smiled. If she gave him trouble, he’d convince Mijre she needed tundra survival training.

“Maybe I shouldn’t.” She wasn’t standing. She was blushing prettily again. “I think I might like to . . . try to, um, stay.”

He sat slowly.

“If we could talk first, maybe, and . . .”

“And . . . ?”

“If I could ask you a question, which may make you angry, will you promise not to be mad?”

Though he couldn’t promise not to be angry, he wouldn’t take his anger out on her. “Go on.”

“What you do. You know, for our owner. I only hear stuff, but do you . . . ?”

She made no sense, and seemed to have frozen, too nervous to say another word. Considering what her greatest concern might be, with what she had managed to say, he guessed. “Do I hurt people in private, for my own pleasure?”

She nodded, brown eyes wide.

“No. Never.” She relaxed a little into her seat.

She watched him. He watched her back. He’d rarely been required to make small talk in his duties as a pleasure slave, but he had some practice as an ambassador. Why should this be so much harder? He didn’t know, but it was.

“I assume you live here on the station?” he asked, finally.

“Yes.”

“What sort of work do you do?” The question seemed safe. Her demeanor, even with the nervousness, was bright and innocent, not the type of person forced into unpleasant labor.

“Historical research.”

Lehu’s attention sharpened. “What area?”

“Ancient history of Duarya.”

“That must be fascinating.”

She looked at him skeptically, searching for deception in his enthusiasm. His enthusiasm wasn’t faked, though. He regretted how little time he had to devote to learning the history of planets long inhabited like Duarya. She must have seen the real interest in his expression, because she smiled.

“Yes. I love my work.”

“I’ve been to Duarya often and I’ve always wondered about the ancient ruins in the capital. Have you been allowed to visit the planet?”

Her smile widened. “I had the privilege of seeing Mictál in person.”

The ruins of a small city unearthed only a decade before. They were so old, the aliens might have walked through their streets. Lehu hadn’t had the opportunity to see them. “Please, tell me everything.”

Kinnet was as precise as she was devious. Aliesin’s husky voice entranced him, and not solely due to her extensive knowledge of Duarya’s past. Of course, Kinnet knew about his unfulfilled desire to learn more about Duarya’s ancient history, Aliesin’s particular area of expertise. Lehu wondered how Kinnet had known her voice would be so lovely.

During a lull in the conversation, he asked, “Have you met Kinnet?”

“Yes. She asked about a site developers wanted to demolish,” Aliesin answered with complete innocence.

So Kinnet even interviewed her. Lehu sighed, and returned to the conversation of mutual interests until a brief cascade of soft musical tones interrupted them.

More of Kinnet’s interference. Before she came into their lives, he and Sesul had kept erratic hours. She’d arranged a few reminders for them. Sesul adapted quickly to having a routine and shut off the reminders. Lehu adapted, with time, but he kept some of the alerts. He was still prone to losing himself in work.

Outside the security of the station or Mijre’s palace on Duarya, however, all three of them sacrificed routine for safety in unpredictability. But, when safe, the structure made them feel less on edge and improved their health.

Aliesin gave Lehu a curious look. “A reminder that I should be heading for bed,” Lehu explained.

Aliesin’s expression turned nervous.

“You still don’t have to stay,” Lehu added, allowing his voice to deepen just a bit into a seductive tone. He wanted her to stay, now. She’d shown interest, in warm glances and unnecessary touches. He thought he could coax her to his bed, as long as her fear didn’t return.

“I know,” she said, a little breathlessly.

He stood, took two deliberate steps towards the bedroom, leaving her closer to the outer door, and extended his hand. She walked to him and took his hand. A flush of desire spread through him. He smiled and he guided her to the bedroom.

Past the door, Aliesin turned shy. Shyer. So Lehu took time acquainting himself with her lips, her mouth, the silken skin from her ear to her collarbone. With a humming sigh, she leaned towards him and tilted her head back. One hand still holding hers, he let the other wander through hair so soft he almost moaned.

Perhaps, just perhaps, Kinnet was right if just the feel of a woman’s hair seemed like a rare pleasure.

Aliesin swayed slightly into the hand now cradling her head, then into the lips grazing the nape of her neck, as if she couldn’t choose between them. He settled the matter by drawing her closer. A bold hand traced the lines of his chest, dragging a moan from him. When the wandering hand brushed his nipple, his hands tightened involuntarily. She gasped and gripped his upper arm. He drew back enough to see her face. Her expression spoke of nothing except desire, a flush spread along her peaches and cream skin. Lehu vowed to cause her to flush a great deal more, and to see all the skin touched by that flush.

He let his own hands wander, feeling lightly muscled arms, the gentle curve of her belly, the feminine flair of her hips. Nothing like the hard, lean women he came in contact with when training troops and fighters. The contrast was erotic.

His hands teased her tunic up slowly. When it reached her waist, concern briefly touched her eyes before she relaxed and raised her arms. He dropped the tunic into a chair. His tunic followed quickly. She showed no further concern when, after several minutes of gentle exploration, the rest of their clothes went the way of their tunics.

Finally, Lehu guided her to his bed. Her brown eyes offered nothing but encouragement as he lay beside her. For the first time in his life, he had reason to be grateful for his training in the bedroom arts. He explored every inch of her skin until he’d pinpointed several erotic zones, causing her to squirm and mewl. Her touch was less experienced, but no less arousing. The uncontrived sensuality of her seduction drove him wild. She reminded him of the uncomplicated, innocent passions of his youth, before his youth was interrupted by Mijre’s schemes.

He moved down her body, to lay between her legs. With tongue, hands, and the occasional nip of teeth, he turned her little mewls into moans and her squirms into writhing. Ignoring the increasingly strong grip in his hair, he refused to be hurried in bringing her to orgasm. Finally, he felt her muscles spasm under his hands and she cried out softly.

When he kissed his way back up her body, she reached for him greedily. He didn’t have to ask if she wanted him to continue. Her body opened to him eagerly, legs wrapping around him as his erection nudged her entrance, arms clutching at his back.

He entered her slowly. She fit snugly around him, but he could move easily in her as her desire and previous orgasm left her more than ready for him. Again, he took his time, getting to know angles and rhythms that made her plead for more. When her release hit her, she dug fingers into his back with more strength than he’d given her credit for. He let go of his own control and followed her in completion.

With hazy amusement, Lehu wondered how someone without enhanced strength managed to hold themselves up at times like these. He eased out of Aliesin and collapsed by her side.

She chuckled huskily as they rested from the exertion. “Oh my.”

He agreed in a low, rumbling laugh, and said nothing. She had pretty much covered it.

To his delight, Aliesin agreed to staying the night. Well, her contented, sleepy mumble sounded like agreement. She rested her head on his shoulder. Her hair spread in a fan across his chest. His fingers toyed with the silken strands as he drifted towards sleep.

One thought surfaced before sleep claimed him—happy outcome aside, he needed to have a little chat with Kinnet.

***
Kinnet, Sesul, and a security detachment were scheduled to leave the day after Kinnet’s little surprise. Lehu wondered if Kinnet really thought she’d escape him by springing her trap before taking off for Elethera. He arrived at the docks before her and waited around the corner of the entrance. People often said she had a peculiar extra sense. Perhaps they were right. Her group hadn’t taken ten steps past his position when she stopped and glanced over her shoulder, most likely to see what was burning a hole in her back.

Sesul came to a stop a step after her. The security detachment carried on a few steps before noticing the loss of their leaders. With an amused expression, Sesul headed them off before they could rejoin Kinnet and ushered them towards the ships.

Kinnet at least had the decency to look concerned as Lehu stalked over to her. He grabbed her elbow hard and dragged her close.

“Do you think you can fix me in one night?”

She huffed in exasperation. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re a paragon of stability and well-adjustment next to Sesul and me. But you needed opportunity and you were being stubborn about it.”

Infuriating twit. “I don’t want you meddling in my personal affairs.”

“Then don’t make me have to meddle. I need you and I won’t let you be jeopardized. You had a problem. I put you on notice.” Her eyes took on the hard glint of mistress rather than friend. Suddenly, the look vanished and she laughed. “I assume your evening went well, then.”

“Excuse me?” Mere glaring was too good for her, but he had no other weapons on hand.

“If you two didn’t get on well, you’d be smug and daring me to be angry with you for sending her away.”

He ground his teeth. Definitely tundra survival training.

“Kinnet.” He shook her by her elbow. “I am not amused. You embarrassed me. You put me in a very uncomfortable position and reminded me of less pleasant times in my life. And I trusted you not ask certain things of me.”

Eventually she sighed. “I’m sorry. I am. I had an idea of what it would cost you. You needed intimacy. We’re surrounded by people who use and abuse friends, family, and lovers alike to further their own agenda or simply for amusement. I understand why you haven’t let anyone other than Sesul and me close, but we can’t give you everything you need.

“I tried to find a better way, but all I had was Aliesin. I knew you wouldn’t hurt her. I knew she couldn’t hurt you. I knew ugly memories would be stirred, but you’ve faced those memories before. I knew you’d disobey me before compromising her or yourself.

“Did you like each other? Did you see she has no desire to use you or anyone to advance her interests? If you did, then maybe you’ll see you can find other women who will not use you.”

Shaking his head to clear it, he said, “I don’t know.” Aliesin smelled nice, felt nice, sounded nice, especially when . . . He wasn’t going to say any of that. “I’ll keep it mind.”

He knew he should nurse his irritation for just a bit longer, but whether she had done him a favor or a disservice, she acted out of love. He hugged her. “Get out of here. Don’t annoy Sesul. And don’t hatch any other plots to aggravate me.”

Smiling, she raised up, practically on her toes, to peck him on the cheek.

“I only ask that you take care of yourself,” she said, seriously.

“Sweet dreams,” he said as she headed towards her ship.

---
DrkDreamer - Thank you! Perhaps I have a little too much fun thinking of mean things to do to Jahhan. He’s taken to trying to find hiding places in the character lounge.

***