Vanquished (11 page)

For now he knew. She’d been
procured for Baraith, the Monarch of the Juxtants, snatched from the field of
battle and, instead of being killed, was transported with all the other spoils
of that war into the clutches of the worst Juxtant in their long history. Vayne
didn’t believe in coincidence, but fate was a different matter entirely. Once
again the skeins had been spun to bind all the loose ends together. For surely
Neira’s connection with Baraith was but another step toward apprehending that
monster.

Baraith, who was no longer on
Ureses but holed up somewhere else, stripped of his wealth and power. He had
only a few followers, most of them scattered throughout the quadrant. Vayne’s
own hunters were systematically tracking them down and disposing of them, but
no one knew where Baraith was, or they weren’t telling. The source of the
precise marks on the back of Neira’s body was now explained, and he wondered
that the rest of her was unblemished. Not that it mattered. It had been her
spirit and determination that drew him, and her austere beauty, her body
virtually invisible beneath the shapeless, black clothing she’d worn at the
time.

Meantime, he fervently hoped once
her trauma was purged, that spirit would again present itself and refused to
think that it wouldn’t.
But you want her
for your own, for her to join with you and lose herself once again. How does
that make you any different?
He
was
different, he assured himself. He had chosen Neira because of his reaction to
her, beyond physical attraction. Chosen her according to Shadalla ancient
proclamations and hadn’t had her procured for him, or assigned politically with
genetic manipulation. Perhaps he’d procured her himself, but if she hadn’t been
his chosen she would have become his concubine, or be sequestered with the
others, awaiting further opportunities on Nibiru.

Even the thought of another male
choosing her, sharing a holding period with her, enraged him. Her body
responded to his strong emotion with a faint shudder. Immediately, he calmed
himself and applied his formidable intellect and logic to their situation. They
were now into the
Falls
and shielded from any pursuit
as effectively as if they’d thrown up a shadow field. But at some point they
would have to cross open space to his planet and if the Outriders had reason to
believe the Shadalla were involved in the looting of the
Astris
, they could be waiting. It had been a mistake for the
pirate captain not to destroy that pod.

Carefully placing Neira on the
bunk, he covered her again and lay beside her, relishing the position. As sovereign
he never had to deny himself a woman’s body, especially during his travels
unless it was of his own choosing, but this feeling of protecting her,
nourishing her with his presence, was entirely satisfying. Well, perhaps not
entirely. He needed to join with her, to sink deep into her welcoming, slick
heat and give her his seed. She would beg for it, as he’d told her, for there
was no other choice, but perhaps she might not shutter her mind against him.
The thought of Neira being unable to deny her physical will yet refusing him
her heart was a lance to his own. At some point in their brief time together,
past the brain chemistry that proclaimed her as chosen, this woman had
vanquished him, and no position, no bloodline, was defense against her.

After considering any number of
variables and considerations, supplemented by additional information Leric
compiled and sent to him, Vayne came up with the most likely explanation. When
Neira awoke and partook of a meal, he would discuss it with her. She would receive
additional medication, offered of course, but administered regardless, in her
best interest. It was imperative that she be helped to address whatever Baraith
had done to her. The holding period was also irrevocably counting down. No
quarter was given for any kind of circumstances, which included absolutely no
time extensions. As sovereign, he expected to face enormous challenges and to
shoulder huge burdens, but once again he wondered about his capabilities when
it came to this female.

Chapter Six

It seemed all she
did was sleep and eat on this cursed ship. The
Tomodr
was much smaller than the
Astris,
of course, but surely there was more to do than
be
confined to the cabin, sleep and eat. Aside from that one
sparring match and the meal with the others she hadn’t left these quarters.
Neira preferred not to think about the reasons she’d been sleeping and avoided
at all costs the thought of certain other things she might be doing with her
time. Vayne was still feeding her, the intimacy of the act infiltrating her
senses, chipping away at her will.

He’d also helped
her cleanse, if help was the proper way to describe it. Sure, she had been weak
and uncertain on her feet after her stupid breakdown, and probably because of
the drugs that medic, Stenlor, had administered, but she still thought she
could have looked after herself. And the sovereign conveniently ignored her
order about not touching her. She couldn’t fault the almost impersonal way he’d
washed her body, although the feel of his strong fingers against her scalp
nearly made her moan. There was no one else to care for her, as he said, and
she pretended not to hear his comment that it was his privilege.

All of her
high-minded intentions had seemed to fall by the wayside, and she’d become a
new poster child: Miss Pushover. Lurking behind her muddled thinking, a
bogeyman with razor sharp teeth and curved claws waited to spring, but it was
held at bay in Vayne’s presence, her lack of control somehow less of a concern.
It made no sense, because it was the sovereign’s insertion into her life that
initially chiseled away at her walls… She wasn’t tracking well at the moment.
They were still in his quarters, and Vayne was watching her pretend to get more
comfortably seated.

“We need to have a
discussion, little warrior.” He wasn’t giving her a choice. Oh, his tone was
gentle, even compassionate, but implacable. Those strong, handsome
features, that
level stare, made her want to tell him
everything. And lately she felt like his little warrior.

“Why were you banned
from the Home World?” Where had that come from? Maybe the drugs were unlocking
some of those elusive memories associated with Vayne and the Shadalla.

A sparkle of
amusement shone in his turquoise eyes and a corner of that sensuous mouth
quirked up. “So you knew of that.”

“Just
remembered.”
Like she now recalled more about why the
troops called him His Lordship with something like awe and a hint of reverence.
It had been before her time, which made this alien considerably older than her,
but the war stories tended to live on through the generations. His troops
literally laid their lives down for him and he never squandered them.
Never.
So unlike her superiors.

Vayne reached out
and ran a fingertip down her cheek. Neira didn’t flinch away. She barely
managed not to press into his touch and suppressed a shiver of longing.

“It was during the
treaty negotiations. I overstepped my…boundaries.”

She waited,
insatiably curious, yet not wanting to show it. She could feel the heat of his
body. It rolled from him in waves despite the barrier of his uniform, and she
well knew how warm and protected he made her feel when he divested himself of
his garments.
Protected!
What the
hell was going on? He
took
her,
kidnapped
her and wasn’t going to let
her go. She struggled to put her situation back into perspective and resist
whatever impact he was having on her.

Lifting a shoulder,
he smiled fully. “There was an ambassador’s daughter.”

The rush of emotion
enveloping her insides and cooling her skin was unmistakable, if not terribly
familiar. It was insane to feel such intense jealousy. He meant nothing to her
that way, and they both had pasts. The convoluted thinking didn’t escape her,
and Neira swallowed any words that came boiling up her throat, contenting
herself with a raised eyebrow and set lips. Something else niggled but was
quashed by her jealous response.

“It was a long time
ago, Neira. I was arrogant and held the belief that all women were my right.
And it served a political purpose. I was compiling information.”

Had he recognized
her reaction for what it was? Neira gritted her teeth, noting he’d called her
by name, trying to ignore what felt like a bridge to heal her furious rejection
of him. Confusion and annoyance surfaced and she managed to address him. “I
don’t see how anything has changed.”

A burst of startled
laughter escaped him before he clearly shut it down and narrowed his eyes. “I
find myself torn between appreciating your feistiness and the need to remind
you of the issue of respect.”

“Perhaps the truth
stings, Sovereign.”

Another
laugh,
and she badly wanted to smile back. “Like many
Shadalla who fought in the wars, I availed myself of the females. Not by force,
ever, and there were no offspring from those unions because we were at war. I
wouldn’t leave any innocents to face that. I can’t change what happened then,
but I assure you, little warrior, you are my last woman. And if that sounds
arrogant, I still stand by it.”

“And I told you—”

“I know what you
told me. I well remember. I can’t say that I’ve ever been rejected before, and
to be rejected by one’s lifemate…”

She studied him,
drawn by both his physique and good looks, and appreciating, despite herself,
how he’d opened up and shown some vulnerability. Did she actually have an
effect on him? The little hint of power tasted fine, and it wasn’t one she
wanted to twist to use against him. Her heart kick-started at the thought and
she sucked in a deep breath to calm it. Where was her earlier resolve? She
should be taking any opportunity to talk him into releasing her from this
ridiculous pursuit. She needed to gain her freedom.

“You feel it,
Neira. Just as I do, though it’s understandable you’ll take somewhat longer to
come to terms with it. I was anticipating finding you and it came to pass.”

“You’ll forgive me
if I’m skeptical. How long would you have looked?”

“Until
I found someone compatible.
A chosen.
But I am blessed that I
didn’t have to look past the
Astris
.”

This time bitter
disappointment flooded over her, washing away all those softer feelings.
Someone.
Not a
fairy tale, then. Not one in a million, a billion, chances. She shook her head
against the fanciful thought.
Stupid.
Even as a girl
she’d scoffed at fate and true love and all. So allowing even a hint of fancy
to impact
her
was insane and moronic. Vayne could have
easily spied
someone
compatible
amongst the rest of the
women. He still could. And that fine, flowery assurance of her being the last
woman would be just another broken promise in her life.

“What convoluted
thinking just passed through your mind?”

Ah, now he was
being condescending, paternal.
Asshole.
She forced a
smile. “I’m still not interested in being your mate and broodmare.”

His sensuous mouth
flattened for an instant and his eyes iced over before he visibly collected
himself. “Your body tells you—and me—otherwise, little warrior. I take
exception to you referring to yourself in a deprecating manner. And you think
too much. I expect it’s a combination of your military training and what you
suffered at the hands of the Juxtant.”

The shrug she
attempted was spoiled by a shudder and Vayne scooped her up and held her close,
his warm breath stirring the hair at her temple.

“Share with me,
Neira. The medic will administer whatever medication you require, but this
thing
festers in you.”

“I don’t talk about
it. I had therapy.” Her assertion came out muffled against his shoulder and
while she knew she should be pulling away from him and keeping her distance,
she couldn’t do it. She was back to feeling protected and safe.

“We’ve extracted
part of your medical file,” Vayne offered, and it gave her the strength to lean
away and look at him. He made no apology for being so intrusive into her life
and she eased apart to sit farther away than she thought he’d allow.

“How did you get
access to my information?”

“Tools
of the trade, the secrets of war.
We keep our friends close and our enemies closer.”

“But,
the treaty.”

He scoffed. “Your
own experience tells you how honorable the old-world leaders actually are. Even
the heads of the military have no honor. We will always have evidence of this.”

She would have liked to delay
further, but resigned herself to dealing with him sooner than later. “So you
accessed my file.”

He caught up her hand and pressed
it between both of his, and she felt her pulse fluttering like a small bird in
a living, warm cage. “They tried to erase your memories of captivity, but there
was disagreement as to how successful they were. It makes me wonder why they
were so desperate to cleanse your mind instead of heal it.”

Tugging her hand free, she
wrapped both arms around
herself
in a poor facsimile
of a hug and forced her eyes to meet Vayne’s. Her breathing almost instantly
slowed and her heart rate calmed. He stared back at her with openness and
acceptance reflected in those turquoise orbs.

Striving for a calm tone, like
the one she used to report to her superiors, she said, “I learned what they did
to Petrov. There were certain drugs I couldn’t avoid, the ones administered
through intravenous, but I didn’t always take the others. So while I was
sedated and met with any number of shrinks, all provided by the military, I was
able to avoid a lot of the heavier stuff.”

She didn’t add that she had
allies amongst the hospital staff, soldiers like herself who did their best to
keep her educated and updated as to what was planned for her. They were the
ones who smuggled out Alexi’s files and information to others who secreted them
so she would have leverage to secure her discharge. It had been a delicate
balancing act but she’d succeeded, if not without considerable help. Neira
hoped her friends and allies remained undiscovered and were safe.

“You were interrogated
extensively about your time with…the Juxtant.”

Trepidation coiled in her belly
and mounted swiftly. She was not thinking about that time.
Nor
sharing any part of it with him.
“I don’t recall.”

“Neira.”
Once again it was as though he
was looking straight into her inner self, learning all her secrets. “I suspect
you possess something, some piece of knowledge perhaps those on the Home World
either wish to obtain, or to keep you from sharing it with others.”

Swallowing back an immediate
negative response, a literal pain grinding in her head, she considered his
supposition. He was basing it on certain facts that didn’t necessarily stand up
to close scrutiny. The Outriders might be searching for someone else—or the
pirate captain had been misled. There were a number of different explanations,
and she preferred to believe them, regardless of a swirling sense of dread that
Vayne was correct. She shook her head.

“We will keep searching, and it
may occur to you.”

“I have so much to thank you for,
Sovereign,” she retorted, sarcasm shoring up her denial. “Kidnapped, my future
mapped out in a manner I’d have never entertained, and now you want me to think
about a time in my life that…that will tear me apart.”

She was nearly whispering toward
the end of her attempted rant, and absurd tears welled. She scrubbed at them
with the heels of her hands and Vayne wrapped her up again, tucking her head
beneath his chin. Breathing in his scent, she settled in his arms and
cautiously thought about that first day she’d made Baraith’s acquaintance.

“
Neira Grekov.
Of the Orion Marines.
So very
few of you left.
Two that we know of.”
The Juxtant was
big. Bigger than either Somar or Modeed, even though the vulpine features were
the same, the wide, dark eyes with no pupils, soulless and cruel. It was like
looking into the abyss. He wore his clothing with casual elegance on his tall,
muscular body but she intuited the evil behind his trappings. She kept silent
and wished there had been any kind of weapon to be fashioned from the objects
in the room.

“I
am Baraith.
Monarch Baraith.”
At her sudden tension,
he smiled, sharp teeth gleaming in the available light. “Ah, my reputation
precedes me. Well deserved, I assure you. The Juxtant are losing this war,
Neira Grekov. I find myself reevaluating my future in the little time I
anticipate is left.”

“What
possible role can I play?” She could have slapped herself for responding.

He’d
been on her before she saw him move, a hand shoved into her hair to snag the
short strands and yank her head back. His breath was fetid, hot, and she saw
the craziness in his eyes. She regretted her offhand comment even more in that
moment. She’d been afraid when at Modeed’s mercy but interrogation was
expected. This was so very different. Modeed had a job to do, a goal to attain.
Baraith had no use for her other than as something to use for his amusement, to
toy with, break and discard. However long it took.