Any urges I had, I satisfied with the Pleasure bots aboard the Kindred Mother Ship—I never got involved with regular females because I knew that as a Hybrid, I probably would never be able to bond one to me.
But seeing Isla’s reaction to my height and size bothered me.
“It’s all right,” I said to her. “I know I’m a big son-of-a-bitch, but remember—my size and strength are only going to be used for your protection.”
“I am not afraid of you, Guard.” She lifted her chin and shot me a defiant look, giving me another taste of the imperious princess who had ordered me not to call her by name and insisted that I give her “treatment” immediately.
I tried not to let my lips twitch up into a smile. I liked this side of her—the defiance that broke through her prim and proper façade once in awhile.
“No, of course not. Now that I have given you my oath, you know you can trust me,” I said. “Good night, my lady.”
Nodding respectfully, I went back around to the other side of her bed and got back into the cot. It creaked under my weight but held—I have to consider getting furniture from this planet—they make it really well.
I let myself drop off into a light doze but I heard Isla tossing and turning well into the night.
I wondered what she was thinking and if she would ever truly trust me.
ELEVEN
From the diary of Lady Isla, wife to Lord Baslik Le’rank of Telmar Two of the Orinthian System:
The next morning when I woke from a fitful sleep, I knew something was different. At first I couldn’t think what it was, but then I heard a soft grunting sound coming from just beyond the foot of my bed.
I sat up as quietly as I could and peered over the edge of the bed to see that the giant Kindred guard was exercising. He had removed his black leather vest and was down on the floor in front of my bed doing push-ups. The muscles rippled under his pearly gray skin most impressively, I must admit. Baslik has no muscles to speak of, though he is still much stronger than I am.
It has always seemed unfair to me that we women are the weaker sex physically—that even the scrawniest male can hold us down or hurt and abuse us. Why has the Goddess of Mercy made us this way? So vulnerable—so subject to abuse?
Of course, that line of thinking led me to remember the oath my new guard had sworn to me the night before and how he had promised not to hurt me or put his hands on me in ways I did not wish him to. Was he truly sincere?
He had certainly seemed so, kneeling at the side of my bed and looking up at me. He had lowered himself before me—something that Baslik had never done. Possibly he had done it out of respect to my rank. Or maybe it was to make himself less intimidating because he really was extremely large. For whatever reason he had done it, I appreciated the gesture.
Just at that moment, he looked up and caught me watching him exercise.
I gave an embarrassed exclamation and jerked my head back, hoping he would go on as though nothing had happened. But it seemed that he was finished for he rose from the carpeted floor and gave me a smile, which—though it was most inappropriate—I found I rather liked.
“Good morning, my lady,” he said, nodding at me. “I hope I didn’t disturb your rest?”
“Not at all. I must get up now anyway.” I felt flustered for some reason—the way I used to in a ballroom when a handsome gentleman was looking my way. For it cannot be denied that my new guard is quite handsome. I was too fearful of him to notice it last night when Baslik first brought him to my rooms, but now that I was more at ease, there was no ignoring his attractiveness.
One would think that someone so large might have thick or lumpish features but it is not so with my guard. His features are sharp—his nose almost aquiline—and his lips are thin but somehow sensual. And his eyes…well, I could not meet them long because of the fluttering in my stomach.
Baslik has never given me that fluttering feeling in my stomach—all I have ever experienced with him is a cold, leaden dread. I have lived with him and the fear of him for so long, it seemed strange to remember those old feelings I used to get, when I looked at a handsome gentleman across a crowded ballroom.
I pushed these thoughts aside and went to the bathing chamber which is also connected to my dressing room. When I emerged, freshly bathed and fully dressed, I saw that the servants had brought in the breakfast table in my absence. The giant was standing beside it, apparently on duty, but he had touched none of the steaming dishes and platters.