The Starlight Rite Page 5

  “And for those thirty-eight days you will have to eat, true?” Pleased with getting the last word, the cook beamed and returned to peeling a red-skinned vegetable.

  A few minutes later, as Mella eyed a pink cherrylike fruit and wondered if it would fit in her full stomach, footsteps echoed in the hallway. In the doorway appeared a dignified woman in a white tunic with black embroidery, a loose golden skirt, and discreet pearl jewelry that blared aristocrat. Her dark hair was arranged in the latest swirling-braids fashion.

  “Algraina,” Idesta said with a slight bow of her head.

  “Is my son in the kitchen? Yorest doesn’t know where he has gone.”

  “He’s not here, ma’am. In his office doing business, he had been.”

  “Not anymore, and I don’t have time to wait. Please remind him of the Arewell clan festivities tomorrow.” The woman turned to leave. Her gaze passed over Mella, then returned as if jerked by a leash. “You. Are you the unshuline whose contract my son purchased?” Her lips pursed at the word unshuline as if she’d tasted something rancid.

  Darned if she’d stand and bow to this woman. Instead Mella inclined her head politely. “Yes.”

  Algraina’s gaze traveled over Mella scornfully. “Most unusual coloring. But so short and fat. I cannot see how you attracted my son.” Turning her head, she spoke to the cook. “Inform my son that his unshuline is not to leave the house.”

  As the woman exited the room, Mella placed her hands flat on the table to still the trembling. Humiliation created a nauseating feeling in her stomach, drowning out her anger. She’d been embarrassed at the auction yesterday, but somehow Algraina’s contempt made her slavery even more real. Bending her head, she stared at the remains of her breakfast and blinked hard to hold back tears. Please, someone, get me off this horrible planet and let me go home.

  “Mella, are you—”

  The cook interrupted Blanesta. “Leave her be for a bit, young-un. Here, wash these taters from the bin.”

  The water in the sink was turned on.

  The sound of footsteps came from the hallway again. Maybe Dain’s mother had thought of another insult to add to Mella’s store. Mella folded her hands, unwilling to look up and let the woman know how effective her verbal abuse had been. Because she did feel like trash. Stinking, foul trash. She was a thief. She’d been auctioned off naked in the plaza. She’d coupled with a stranger. She deserved every bit of the woman’s scorn.

  Forcing air in and out of her tight lungs, Mella stared at her hands. In a bit, she’d thank the kitchen staff for the food and go back to her room. With any luck, she could just hide there until her days were up.

  After a minute, she realized the room had gone silent. A chair beside her scraped against the brick floor, and someone sat down. Black trousers and black boots appeared in her downcast vision. Oh no.

  A hand wrapped around her arm, turning her firmly toward…him. Warm fingers cupped her chin, tilting her face up to meet a dark gray gaze. With his free hand, Dain brushed away the few tears she hadn’t managed to contain.

  “I’m sorry, Mella,” he said. “My mother is overly judgmental, especially when it comes to unshulines. My father was neither discreet nor responsible when he was alive.”

  Pushing his hand away from her face, she forced a smile. “I didn’t notice your mother being here. I’m merely weary.”

  Anger flared in his eyes.

  Heavens, if he yelled at her, she really would cry. Shaking, she pushed her chair back, only to have two hard hands grip her shoulders, holding her in place.

  “Mella,” he said and stopped, waiting for her to look at him. When her eyes met his, he continued, “Nexans have no patience with lies, and I have no tolerance for them. I require honesty from the people around me.”

  She tried to pull away, but his fingers tightened. He leaned forward and spoke into her ear, his deeply timbered voice level. “In your case, honesty in bed and out, hiding neither your body nor your emotions from me.”

  The thought of being so open to anyone, especially this man, made her mind quail, and she cringed. His hands gentled. “Come, let us walk in the gardens.” Hard muscles bunched in his forearms as he easily pulled her to her feet.

  Glancing over her head, he told the cook, “Send for a seamstress. Set an appointment for tomorrow and have her drop off some ready-made clothing today, starting from the skin out. Can you make an estimate as to size?”

  Idesta looked at Mella. “Yes, Kinae. Do you have a preference as to color or style?”

  He stroked a hand down Mella’s hair, and she stood rigid under his touch. “She has beautiful hair and coloring and a lush figure. Tell the seamstress to showcase those without being vulgar.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Her skin was satin against his fingers, and Dain couldn’t resist stroking her arm as they walked out the back door to the clan gardens. His jaw tightened when he thought of his mother’s meddling. Although cool, she normally didn’t descend into cruelty.

  Mella didn’t deserve such abuse. Odd how he felt such a need to protect the little thief.

  He glanced down at the top of her head. Even now, she kept her gaze averted, not looking at him unless he forced the issue. His mother had undoubtedly contributed to her withdrawal, but there was more going on here. Was Mella shy? Or angry after his use of her last night? Or should he say, their use of each other? He had scratch marks down his back from her uninhibited response to his touch.

  And just the memory of her screams of climax made him harden.

  But this was not the time for shulin, not when she had drawn back into herself like an Earth turtle into its shell. As they reached the grassy path, he changed directions, heading toward the shade garden. “Did you have enough to eat in the kitchen?” he asked.

  “Yes.” At his silence, she obviously realized her answer had been less than polite. He watched her take a deep breath and straighten her shoulders before she looked up.

  The bright daylight turned her eyes to a clear emerald. “You have a very talented cook…and a beautiful home. But Idesta said you were doing business this morning. What business are you in?”

  “Ah. Just estate dealing. As clanae, head of the Zarain clan, Grandsir does the majority of the work, but as kinae, head of our family line, I have various matters to tend to.”

  “So this place—the enclave—belongs to the clan? Who lives here?”

  “Many of the clan’s kinlines reside here. Others prefer the farm enclave.”

  She slowed to look around, then nodded at the thick adobe wall. “Why the frontier-stockade look? Do you have wars here or something?”

  “No wars. Our small population couldn’t survive such needless waste.” He touched her braid and watched the red strands glint gold in the sun. “The walls are to keep out the predators. During their migrations, very little else will stop them.”

  She glanced around uneasily. “Predators as in animals? Are they big?”

  “Regstal are about seven feet or so, but they can’t climb.” He nodded up at the sky. “Berstal fly, and that’s why our windows are small and the inner courtyard has a wire covering. The agrustal are four legged.” He held his hand thigh-high. “Agrustal come from the sea during the rainy season and will eat anything in their path. Since our fields are not inside the enclaves, our warriors guard the new plantings until summer forces the creatures back into the ocean.”

  Her eyes widened. “They eat people?”

  “People are just another form of meat.” Although scars might excite some women, this one would probably flee if he showed her what a regstal’s double rows of teeth could do to a man’s leg.

  “Dear Prophet.”

  Her reaction demonstrated why the so-civilized planet of Earth didn’t understand the necessities of the frontier worlds. Time to change the subject. He guided her through the wide arch in the larrien bushes and past the small altar to Cernun, god of winter. “This is the shade garden.” He smiled at the profusion of blue f
lowers climbing up the dark adobe walls. Thick purple grass covered the ground broken by tiny pools of water. The cool, moist air was filled with the sounds of a myriad of fountains and the chirping of parogans. The miniature yellow birds preferred to raise their young near water, and he’d spotted two nests in the last week.

  “It’s lovely.” After a moment of stunned delight, Mella started down one of the narrow, winding paths. Dain dropped back a step, enjoying her obvious pleasure. Off-worlders rarely left Port City, so the beauty of the enclaves wasn’t common knowledge.

  Dain saw the ever-mischievous felin named Arala break out of cover and streak after a parogan.

  Mella jerked to a stop. “What was that?”

  “A felin. I believe they were called cats on Earth, but like everything else here, they have mutated.”

  “A knee-high cat?” She stared at the bushes. A second later, Arala padded back to her hiding place, sleek black tail twitching in annoyance. “It’s huge.”

  “Big enough to bring down deerlets. The mountain clans hunt with them.” He tugged on her braid lightly. “You know so little about my planet that I must wonder what brought you to Nexus.”

  Her gaze moved away from his. Was she planning to lie to him again? His jaw set. After twenty years in law enforcement, he had a profound dislike for being lied to. Although Nexans rarely lied, off-planet strangers had brought the filthy habit with them.

  “I was traveling to see the sights.”

  Interesting. Not entirely a lie. “And did the sights include a stint as a thief?”

  “Well, no,” she said lightly, kneeling to touch a slender violetta flower with gentle fingers. “It happened I lost my money first, and your planet”—a hint of anger darkened her words—“doesn’t have any help for the indigent.”

  “Actually, we do. There’s an abundance of help for victims of crimes. Did you report the theft to the police?” He took her arm to assist her in rising.

  “Ah, of course I did.”

  Lie. “Indeed. What did the thief look like? And where did this happen?”

  She tried to pull away, and he kept his hand on her arm.

  “Near the port,” she said. “I didn’t really see the man. Tall. His face was covered.”

  With his fingertips over her inner arm, he felt her pulse increase as lie piled upon lie. She’d probably stowed away on a ship, perhaps to evade arrest on her own or some other world, and then been discovered and tossed off on Nexus. Criminals did not knowingly come to Nexus.

  Well, now he knew how much he could trust her—not at all. And the beginning of his pity had disappeared entirely.

  Chapter Five

  Since Kinae Dain had ordered a supper tray delivered to his office, Mella ignored Idesta’s hint she should join the Zarain family in their dining room and ate in the kitchen with the rest of the staff: Idesta and Blani, two housemaids, the butler, a gardener and his young apprentice, and three security men. Although everyone was polite, she saw the curiosity in less guarded eyes: what crime had she committed?

  After helping the kitchen staff clean up, she returned to her rooms with a sense of relief. There she discovered several articles of clothing on the bed: a pale gold nightgown, a blue satin skirt with a silky cream blouse, and a stretchy breast undergarment. No panties or facsimile thereof. The lack sent a quiver through her.

  After taking a hasty bath, fearing Dain’s arrival, Mella donned the nightgown and gasped at how much it revealed. Not only was the fabric nearly transparent, but the bodice curved almost to her nipples. She started to take it off but heard footsteps in the isolated hallway. She had barely enough time to yank on her robe before the door opened.

  Dain strolled into the room as if he owned it—well, yes, he did—but it was still her room for the duration. And she was his, she thought, her mouth tightening. He too wore a robe, and the black silk displayed the broadness of his shoulders and darkened his eyes. “Did you have supper?” he asked.

  “I did. Did you get your business finished?” she asked politely in return. How could two people be in bedroom attire and conversing so stiffly?

  He shook his head, moving steadily toward her, reminding her of a popular documentary that showed a lion stalking game across an open plain. “I have several full days in front of me.” His smile creased his cheek. “But my nights are free.”

  At the smoldering look in his eyes, she stepped back, but he caught the lapels of her robe. “Your nights are free also, aren’t they, little thief?” He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her answer.

  “Apparently so,” she said, bitterness searing her veins like acid.

  “Ah. Back to being angry.” He shook his head. “Then I will start from the beginning again.”

  What exactly did that mean? She tugged at his hands as he firmly pulled the front of her robe open. He looked at what the sheer nightgown revealed, and his eyes heated. Oh Prophet. She really, really didn’t want to couple with him—nor with anyone. She tried to push his hands away.

  He ran a finger over the top of the bodice, obviously enjoying himself, but all she felt was irritation and embarrassment. No drug controlled her now, and the cold had returned to her body.

  His eyes narrowed. “Well, this is more than back to the beginning, isn’t it, laria?” he asked softly. “I know you can feel passion.”

  She shrugged, wanting to look away, but caught in his steady gaze.

  He cupped one breast and stroked his thumb over her nipple, watching her face. “Then again, a mind can overrule instincts. You don’t want to feel anything, do you?”

  His words touched her as intimately as his hand. She turned her head.

  “No, you will look at me as we speak.” He gripped her jaw, forcing her to meet his eyes.

  His touch, his words scraped against her defenses; his hard eyes seemed to bore into her soul.

  His thumb brushed over her lips. “Let’s try this. Mella, if you will answer my questions honestly, then I will not insist on shulin tonight.”

  Shulin. The Nexan word for coupling. Relief washed through her, and her muscles relaxed. She’d tell him what he wanted to hear and—

  “However, if you lie to me or evade my questions, then I will take you in every way that I know. All night.”

  She choked. “I…I won’t answer questions that will…incriminate me.”

  He smiled slowly. “Fair enough.” Gripping her robe, he backed up to the overstuffed chair in the corner and pulled her into his lap. She squirmed until he asked, “Would you rather talk on the bed?”

  She froze, sitting rigidly upright on his knees. Wetting her lips, she said carefully, “No. Here is fine.”

  When amusement flashed in his eyes, she hated him a little. He had her as trapped as if she were in one of their restraint pens.

  With firm hands, he leaned her back into the curve of his arm, increasing her feeling of vulnerability. And then he deliberately pushed her robe more open and set his hand on her breast. Even through the thin silk, his fingers felt warm on her chilled skin. “When did you make love for the first time?”

  “The first time?” She’d expected questions about her marriage. Nathan. Or stealing. “Um. Five years ago, when I mar—” She bit the word back. “Five years ago.” A fine and proper wedding with her parents so pleased and Nathan so attentive. She’d been excited, knowing she would soon discover the secrets her body had cried out for… She sighed at the dismal memory.

  “That is not the sound of a woman remembering passion.” He curled his arm around her, pulling her closer to his warmth, an almost comforting feeling. “When was the last time you made love?” he asked quietly. When she looked down, he murmured, “Keep your eyes on mine. How long ago?”

  His eyes were such a dark gray, almost black. “I think…” Why would she remember that? It wasn’t important. Nothing had been very important since her parents—

  “Stop. Tell me that thought.”

  She stiffened. “That’s personal.”

  “An
d you will have no personal secrets from me,” he said softly. “Tell me what put the look of grief on your face.”

  Did he see everything? He waited, stroking down her neck, massaging the tight muscles in her shoulders. His body felt solid and strong beneath hers.

  “My parents and sister died in a hovercar accident,” she said finally.

  “When?”

  “About a year ago.” A frozen year when nothing could break through the ice coating her emotions and heart. She didn’t need warmth; she didn’t want warmth.

  “Ah.” He ran his knuckles over her cheek, his eyes gentle. “I’m sorry, laria. That’s a devastating loss. Did your mate—”

  “No!”

  Dain tightened his arm around the stiff little body in his lap. She didn’t want him to know she was married. Why? Another rigid Earther custom?

  On Nexus, a contract for reproduction required fidelity only until confirmation of pregnancy and paternity. But Earth contracts might include more restrictions. “It is true that the law dissolves your marriage during your indenture. Afterward, will your spouse react badly when he finds you’ve served as an unshuline?”

  He saw the lie form in her eyes and get rejected before she spoke. She was learning. Good.

  “We’re not married anymore.”

  Her emotions jangled until he couldn’t get a clear reading.

  “He doesn’t even know where I am right now.”

  Truth.

  Was she married or not? Dain frowned. And did Earthers care so little for their mates that they’d lose them among the planets? He realized she’d made no attempt to notify a spouse that she’d been sold. He felt a surge of pity for this fragile woman who had no one to run to for succor.

  He’d known that she hadn’t been intimate with anyone recently. Her sheath had taken too long to adjust to him.

  Then there was her amazement at her climax. She should not have been so surprised, even if years had passed. In fact, he had to wonder if she’d ever reached release before at all.