He turned away, presumably to get back to his packing. But something inside Trin couldn’t let that happen. She couldn’t bear to watch him walk away—couldn’t let him leave not knowing when or if she would ever see him again.
“Thrace, wait.” Hesitantly, she reached for him and let her fingertips drift lightly over the back of his arm.
A visible shiver ran through him at her light touch. Turning, he faced her once more, a look of pain etched on his strong features.
“What is it, Trin?”
Trin bit her lip. Not “Mistress,” not “baby” just Trin. Was that all she was to him now? Had she pushed him away for too long? Would she ever be able to get him back?
“I…” She didn’t know what to say but she couldn’t remain silent. If she did, she would lose him forever.
“Yes?” Thrace asked impatiently. “What is it you want?”
“I want you to try it.” Trin lifted her chin. “I’m not afraid. Well…not much,” she added honestly.
Thrace sighed and went back to the couch. “I don’t even know if it will work. It’s supposed to be for bonded couples and you and I…I don’t even know if we’re bonded anymore.”
Trin looked down at her hands.
“I know I’ve been blocking you,” she whispered. “I started it for your own good—because I didn’t want to hurt you or drag you down with me. And now…now I can’t seem to stop.”
“Well…” He sighed again. “I guess you can’t help it—I don’t blame you after what you found out about me on Yonnie Six. Not to mention everything you went through in that fucking temple. Come here.” He gestured for her and Trin came to stand between his thighs.
She could feel the heat of his big body and the warm scent of his skin seemed to envelope her. He was wearing black leather trousers and a deep red long sleeved shirt which looked like the uniforms the Kindred wore. For a moment she was tempted to unfasten the buttons that held it closed and caress the strong chest she knew lay beneath…But she held back. Would her touch be welcomed? Or was Thrace still too angry with her to want anything to do with her?
“So you want to be healed?” he asked, taking her hand in his.
“I…I’d like you to try. If you don’t mind.” Trin could barely look him in the eye.
“I don’t mind.” His deep voice came out sounding rough.
“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Trin said quickly. “I mean, if you don’t want it to. You can…can still leave after if you want, of course. I wouldn’t presume to keep you.”
“You wouldn’t, huh?” He looked up at her, his pale eyes narrowed.
“No, of course not. After all…I have no hold on you anymore.” Trin let her fingers drift lightly to his throat, where the collar had been for so long. “I’m not your Mistress anymore. I’m nothing to you.”
“Oh, Trin…” He closed his eyes briefly and for a moment she almost thought she felt something through their blocked bond. Some deep current of emotion she couldn’t name. Then it was gone and when he looked up at her, his eyes were hard. “Fine,” he said flatly. “I’ll do my best to heal you and then I’ll be on my way.”
“All right.” She lifted her chin. “If that’s the way you want it.”
“That’s the way you want it.”
Before she could answer, he seized her hand in his and bent down as though he meant to kiss the back of it. Instead he licked it—dragging his tongue in a long, slow caress up her wounded arm, bathing the welts made by the hrakka in a single stroke.
“Oh!” Trin gasped. But it wasn’t just his gesture that surprised her—it was the cool tingling which immediately followed it—like a hundred tiny bubbles popping at the same time on her wounded skin.
Thrace stopped at once and released her.
“I’m sorry—did I hurt you?”
“No—it didn’t hurt, exactly.” Trin examined her arm. “It was more like a tingling sensation.”
“Did it work?” Thrace was staring at her arm too. As they watched, the long, red welts made by the cruel instrument of torture slowly began to heal. Trin gasped as she saw the red turn to white. After a moment the only thing left to show where the hrakka had marked her were four parallel scars, thin but visible white lines running up the smooth brown of her arm.
She looked up at Thrace.
“You healed me!”
“Not completely.” He frowned at the scars. “Let me try again.”
But though he licked her arm several more times, the scars didn’t fade.
At last, Trin drew back.
“I know the scars are ugly,” she said quietly. “But…well, at least it doesn’t hurt anymore. That’s wonderful.”
Thrace shook his head. “I just wish I could do more.”
“You can,” Trin said softly. “You can heal the rest of me…if you don’t mind.”
“Of course, I don’t mind. But…” He hesitated, frowning again.
“But what?” Trin asked softly.
“Well, those marks…they’re all over your body.” He gestured at the white shift dress which covered everything but her arms and her feet. “I mean, if I remember right, they’re everywhere. Are you going to be all right with me licking you every place you need to be healed?”
Trin bit her lip.
It’s wrong…letting a male do that to you, it’s wrong and you know it. The ugly, judgmental voice—a voice that sounded very like the high priestess’s—was whispering in her ear, making it hard to think, hard to be brave. But then she remembered the light in Nadiah’s true green eyes when the Goddess spoke through her and lifted the blood curse. Take a deep breath, Trin gathered her courage.
“I want you to do it,” she said firmly. “I want to be healed.”
“All right.” Thrace rose from the couch and held out a hand to her. “Let’s heal you, then.”
Biting her lip, Trin put her hand in his and let him lead her into the sleeping chamber.
* * * * *
Thrace couldn’t believe she was going to allow him to do this—that she was willingly going to let him lick every inch of her sweet body. After what she’d learned about how his old Master had treated him on Yonnie Six, he’d been afraid she would never want him to touch or taste her again.
Don’t get too excited, he told himself sternly. After all, it’s not like she’s here asking to renew our bond. She just doesn’t want to live the rest of her life in fucking agony—that’s all. After this is over, you’ll part for good and you know it. Didn’t she say you were nothing to each other? So don’t read anything into it and don’t try to make it last. Just do what has to be done and let her go.
Let her go forever.
But despite the warnings he tried to give himself, he couldn’t help the wave of love and devotion that washed over him when she lifted the white dress over her head and let it fall to the floor. She was so beautiful, so perfect even with the angry, red welts marking her skin. He wanted nothing more than to lavish her with kisses, to worship her body with his tongue, to heal her and make her whole…at least on the outside, which seemed to be all he could manage.
“Where…where do you want me?” Trin asked softly, lifting her chin. Thrace recognized the tremor in her voice and the steel in her eyes—she was trying to be brave. Trying to let him do this without losing her nerve.
“Sitting on the edge of the sleeping platform to start with,” he said gently. “We’ll go slow…as slow as you want.”
“All right.” She settled on the sleeping platform, making a soft noise of pain as the dark blue coverlet rubbed against the welts on her backside. Thrace made a mental note to attend to them soon but he wanted to start someplace safer first—someplace that wouldn’t make her feel threatened or uncomfortable.
Kneeling before her, he took her other arm, the one he hadn’t treated yet, and looked into her eyes.
“May I?”