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Protecting His Mistress (Kindred Tales)

Page 79

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“Your dinner, Mistress,” he said, bowing respectfully. “Would you like me to put it down on the table for you?” He nodded at the low table before the couch where she had so often eaten with Karn, while they were watching a vid.

The thought made her sad all over again and Lilli was about to send the dinner away and say that she had no appetite when she took another look at the bodyslave holding the tray.

“You’re Priss’s bodyslave, aren’t you?” she asked uncertainly. “You’re H’rare—right?”

“Yes, I am. And I was hers until you and Karn won me from her, Mistress,” he said. “I can’t tell you how grateful, I am.” He dropped his voice. “Or how sorry I am for what happened to Karn—he was a good male.”

“Yes, he was.” Lilli felt a lump in her throat. “He told me that if we didn’t try to save you, you’d be sent…sent to the mines.” She could barely get the words out.

“He was right about that,” H’rare said solemnly. “Mistress Priss threatened me with the mines twenty times a day while she owned me.” He shook his head. “Never thought Karn would end up there while I stayed here safe in the kitchens.”

Lilli had a sudden thought—a hope so wild she was almost afraid to speak it. Trying to sound off-hand, she said,

“H’rare—while you were Priss’s bodyslave, did you ever fly her anywhere?”

“Fly her in a shuttle or a hover-ship you mean?” He raised his eyebrows. “Oh yes, Mistress. Lady Priss insisted that her bodyslave be able to do everything and anything for her, from massaging her toes to fixing her favorite rasta-bean smoothie to flying her to downtown Opulex for shopping whenever the notion took her.”

“I see.” Lilli opened the door wider. “Come in so you can put down that tray, H’rare. Let’s talk.”

“Of course, Mistress,” he said, frowning. “But talk about what?”

“H’rare,” Lilli said in a low voice. “How would you like to be free?”

“Free?” He looked around, as though he was afraid someone might have heard the forbidden word. “I don’t know that I rightly understand you, Mistress,” he murmured.

“Come inside,” Lilli said again. “And let’s talk about it…”

She felt that flutter in her belly again, but this time the feeling brought hope, not despair.

The Goddess was right, she thought. I will find a way to save you, little one. To save all of us…

She hoped.

Forty-Five

Gods he was hot. And thirsty. And so damn tired he felt like he could drop in his tracks—but he couldn’t because the fucking Obedience Skin just kept on going.

Karn swung the pickaxe again and felt the reverberations all the way up his arms as it hit solid stone. He would have liked to rest, but the skin wouldn’t let him. Hell, it would barely let him breathe, since the metal plate still covered his mouth.

The Horvath guards had dropped him off at the mines, given him the tool he currently held, and simply said, “Work.” The Obedience Skin had taken over from there and he had been chopping and hacking away at the greenish-gray rock face of the open Diluthian pit for hours now.

He wasn’t the only one working of course—there were hoards of unlucky slaves pounding away at the rock. None of them had tried to speak to him—not that he could have spoken back even if they had.

The toxic odors of the Diluthian being unearthed all around him stung his nostrils and made his throat raw. He wanted to retch but he was acutely aware that if he threw up, he would die. With his mouth blocked, he would choke on his own vomit. So he held onto his gorge grimly and tried to ignore the way he wanted to gag every time one of his blows unearthed a new vein of Diluthian and the more foul odors were released.

I’m going to die here, he thought, not for the first time. If it hadn’t been for the Obedience Skin, he would have escaped easily. He could have pressed the communicator on his nail and called for help at once. But his fingers were encased in the fucking skin—the same skin that forced him to keep working, even when the other slaves were allowed a five-minute break and a swallow of water.

Karn wondered what would get him first—the thirst, the toxic gasses he was breathing in, or simply exhaustion. He was well aware that if he hadn’t been in excellent physical shape, the grueling non-stop work for hours on end would probably have caused his heart to give out. But even the strongest heart couldn’t keep going forever.

And even the strongest heart could be broken.

Oh, Lilli—I’m so fucking sorry, he thought, his eyes stinging as he pounded away at the rock face. I didn’t know what we did together would hurt you. I just wanted to love you, baby. I’m so sorry…


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