Page 12 of Rescued

“We have no Empath Kindred that I know of in my universe,” Davrik said thoughtfully. “Though it’s possible that a trade was done long ago and forgotten about. Anyway, I don’t mind dropping you and Nate off. From what the slaver said, Sonya was bought for the beauty of her voice. Not for…other reasons.”

His face grew dark and Lan’ara felt the protectiveness rising in him. He wanted badly to get to his mate and keep her safe from any who would harm her.

She didn’t blame him and normally she would have waited until he had secured Sonya to ask for a ride to her home world. But she could still feel the rage emanating from Nate and she feared for his emotional and mental well-being. Until she could free him of the stasis field and calm him, she couldn’t begin to heal the wounds in his spirit—of which there were many. She could feel them, each and every one, pecking at him like angry crows.

“Thank you—I promise it won’t take long to drop us off,” she said gratefully. “Come on—let me show you where Careesa Prime is on the star charts and you can put it into the Nav-com along with the coordinates to Yonnie Six.”

“Of course.” Davrik nodded and they walked together to the front of the ship. But Lan’ara couldn’t help throwing a glance over her shoulder at Nate, still frozen in the stasis frame.

Don’t worry, she thought, wishing she could reassure him in some way. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I’m going to get you help, Nate—I swear I will!

She just prayed to the Goddess that his pain wasn’t too deep to heal.

ELEVEN

DAVRIK

Davrik nodded a last goodbye as Lan’ara exited the ship and then closed the door and prepared to take the long-range shuttle back into space. Their stop on Careesa Prime had been, as she had promised, extremely brief.

Lan’ara had called ahead, asking for permission to bring Nate to a place called a “Healing Grotto.” Permission had been granted, after she explained the circumstances, and they had landed in the middle of what appeared to be a tropical paradise.

The broad, feathery leaves and flowers were all soft, muted shades of blue and purple and green—and so were the people, to Davrik’s surprise. The Careesans seemed to blend in with their environment and the pervading mood of the whole planet was that of peaceful reflection and healing.

The Careesan males who helped move the stasis frame with Nate inside it weren’t quite as tall as the Kindred of his own universe but they all seemed very fit. They wore long white trousers that billowed around their legs and were gathered at the ankles. They went bare-chested, not needing to wear shirts in the balmy warmth Davrik could feel flooding into the shuttle from the jungle outside.

The females wore long white gowns which flowed down to their feet in the back but were split high in the front. Both males and females were barefoot—Lan’ara had explained that there were no thorns or weeds but only soft grasses on the surface of the planet. They all nodded and made gestures of peace as they murmured a muted welcome.

Davrik had wondered if their calm and peaceful attitudes prevailed over the entire planet or were unique to the Healing Grotto. He supposed on a planet of Empaths, where everyone could feel everyone else’s emotions, it would be especially important to maintain a tranquil atmosphere.

But he couldn’t keep his mind on Careesa Prime for long—he wished Lan’ara and Nate all the best and hoped she could heal the fury festering inside her human mate—but now he had other things to attend to. At last he was headed for Yonnie Six and his beloved Sonya. He just prayed he was in time and nothing horrible had been done to her.

A short jump through a stable wormhole found him in orbit around the small but prosperous planet. If the Yonnie Six of this universe shared any physical characteristics with the Yonnie Six of his own universe, they were heavily into Dream Gas mining and production. It was the only planet where the hallucinogenic gas could be found and it was a much sought after commodity.

If he had been in his own universe, Davrik would have had to pose as the bodyslave of a rich Mistress to land on Yonnie Six. However, in this universe he simply stated that he was a wealthy male interested in visiting the Pleasure District and he was granted immediate entry.

He docked on the outskirts of the Pleasure District and took a luxury hovercoach directly to The House of a Thousand Flowers. His body was tight with coiled tension. Soon he would see Sonya—or at least, this universe’s version of her.

As he waited impatiently for the sleek, navy blue hovercoach to get to the club, he debated for the hundredth time on what he should tell her. He didn’t know if he should try to explain about the other Sonya—his Sonya—from his universe or not. After all, he didn’t want this new Sonya to feel like she was nothing but a replacement. She was going to be a different person—her life experiences and the trauma she’d been through would ensure that.

No, he decided, he couldn’t tell her about the other Sonya. Later, after he’d gained her trust he would be able to explain. But for now, he needed to approach this situation as though she was a whole different woman he was trying to woo—because essentially, she was.

I’ll just pretend to be a wealthy male interested in a beautiful woman, he told himself. Though of course he intended to buy her from the pleasure house as soon as possible, he wouldn’t let her know why he was buying her until much later.

The luxury hovercoach finally hummed to a stop in front of a soaring skyscraper with a golden awning over the large, double doors. The House of a Thousand Flowers! read a holo sign in glowing, florid lettering which floated above the awning.

Davrik climbed out and squared his shoulders. He had taken the time to change into his best clothing—a suit of heavy black sateen with a crisp white shirt and a deep blue Frizian silk cravat at his throat. Sonya had helped him pick it out to wear to her cousin’s wedding, what felt like a lifetime ago—she’d liked the cravat because she said it brought out his eyes. Davrik hadn’t worn it since, but he was glad he’d thought to bring it with him—it would help him play the part of a wealthy playboy interested only in pursuing pleasure.

The cred chips he had brought would also help with that illusion. They had been regular currency in his own universe, but in this one, they had turned into rare gold-edged chips that were worth ten times as much. He was grateful that Commander Sylvan had explained about the currency conversion between the two universes—apparently Commander Nox, the Dark Kindred who had first visited this reality—was the one who had discovered it.

So Davrik had a small fortune to bargain with and he was sure it would come in handy. He was willing to spend every last cent of it to get Sonya back. Or to get this version of Sonya, he reminded himself. He had to stop thinking of this as a way to get his old mate back—his Sonya was gone forever. Instead, he would be courting a new version of her, who was an entirely different person even if she looked the same as his mate. He had to remember that and be mindful of it.

The doorman, who was a short, squat Gordian dressed in golden livery, let him in at once. It was proof that his best suit and the attitude of wealth and privilege he had adopted were working, Davrik thought. He didn’t even acknowledge the male as he walked past him, keeping his chin high and a haughty look fixed on his face.

Inside, The House of a Thousand Flowers was ostentatious to say the least. The flooring was shiny black Barithian marble, polished until he could see his reflection if he looked down. Hovering over his head were expensive floating glows which hummed musically and tinkled against each other when they knocked gently together. The walls were covered in short, dense scarlet flowers which let off a subtle scent that smelled like sex and money put together, Davrik thought. At least Sonya had been taken to a nice place—he just prayed to the Goddess she hadn’t been mistreated here.

He walked briskly up to the front desk, which was made of pale blue Zrethian teakwood, and rapped his knuckles on it sharply. At once an attendant wearing the same golden livery as the doorman came out from behind the hanging curtains behind the desk and made an obsequious bow. He wasn’t from any species Davrik knew but he was short and slender and had springy green curls growing in a single line down the center of his scalp. It looked a little like the hairstyle he had heard humans call a “Mohawk.”

“Hello, my good Sir! How may I be of assistance to you, today?” the clerk asked, looking up at Davrik. “Are you interested in tasting the delicious and rare liquors of our collection or listening to the beautiful music in our lounge? Or perhaps you’d like to spend some personal one-on-one time with one of our incomparable ‘flowers.’”

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