16. Kaelus #3
“Infected males were brought here when they became dangerous.” He walked past one of the chairs and ran his hand across its back. “Some remained restrained for days. Others for weeks. The most severely affected were kept here until the infection burned through their systems or they died.”
Kaelus looked at the heavy wrist cuffs. He imagined what it would be like to be trapped there, out of control of his own mind and body, knowing that if the restraints failed, he might hurt the female he loved. His stomach tightened.
“Why preserve this place?” he asked. The old restraint lab seemed like something out of a nightmare.
“Historical interest, mostly,” Sendar said. “The Council considered dismantling it several times, but Varell believes we should remember what we once were.”
“What changed though? When did the virus stop turning males savage?” Kaelus asked in frustration.
Sendar gave a humorless laugh.
“You truly wish to know what I think?”
“Yes, of course,” Kaelus said impatiently.
For several seconds, Sendar studied him. Then he gestured around the abandoned room.
“Our men were once strong. So strong these restraints were needed.”
Kaelus frowned.
“Being violently insane is not strength.”
“No. But independence is,” Sendar countered.
Kaelus’s unease sharpened. What was he talking about?
Sendar continued walking slowly among the restraint chairs, running his hand over their backs.
“Eventually our healers discovered that the presence of women—particularly intimate contact with them—appeared to calm infected males,” he said.
“The customs grew from there. Men began staying close to their wives—serving them, touching them constantly. Kissing them. Pleasuring them. Then came the rituals, the vows, the absurd concept that a woman must be treated like a goddess merely because she possesses female flesh.”
There was bitterness in his voice now—real bitterness as though he blamed the women he was speaking of for something.
Kaelus stared at him.
“What are you saying? You disapprove of your people’s customs?”
Sendar shot him a look.
“I’m only saying that I think our society has forgotten the difference between devotion and servitude.”
Kaelus frowned.
“So…you believe the men of Titus Four are servants to their women.”
Sendar’s metallic eyes flashed.
“Do you not? Is it not obvious?” He pointed toward the dark silver band around Kaelus’s upper arm. “You are wearing a symbol declaring that you are owned by a woman even now.”
Kaelus stiffened.
“Clair is my wife—my mate,” he said and in that moment, it felt true.
Sendar gave him a searching look.
“You carried her belongings yesterday. You served her food. This morning you allowed her to dress you. You knelt before her and kissed between her thighs in front of a room full of people because another male told you that was how a husband should behave. Does none of that strike you as humiliating?”
Kaelus thought about it. Irritating, yes, because Clair loved to tease him.
But deep down he had to admit, he’d gotten used to her banter.
Maybe even come to enjoy it, in a way. But he hadn’t felt humiliated by any of the customs they’d had to adhere to on Titus Four.
If anything, they had drawn him and his “wife” close—probably too close.
“No,” he said. “I do not find your customs humiliating.”
Sendar blinked in apparent surprise.
“How can you say that? She had you on your knees, man! You’re wearing a band that says she owns you!”
Kaelus looked down at the silver band around his biceps.
“I see nothing humiliating about caring for one’s mate,” he said stonily.
“It is not care if it is demanded,” Sendar pointed out.
Kaelus shrugged.
“Clair demands very little of me.”
Sendar snorted.
“She already has you carrying her belongings and kneeling at her feet.”
“Those were your customs, not hers,” Kaelus pointed out.
“But you went along with them,” Sendar said. “Tell me, customs or not, would you truly allow a woman to own you?”
Kaelus looked at him. The image of Clair fastening the band around his arm came back with disturbing clarity. Her small fingers against his skin. Her brown eyes looking up into his.
“You don’t mind being owned by me?” she’d said in that soft, teasing voice that drove him crazy.
His answer then had been evasive. This time it wasn’t.
“If Clair truly wished to own me in order to claim me as her mate,” he said slowly, “I believe I would consider it an honor.”
The words startled him as much as they appeared to startle Sendar. For a moment the other male’s face went completely blank. Then he laughed.
“How very Titus Four of you,” he sneered.
Kaelus scowled.
“I am Kindred.”
“So you keep reminding me.”
Sendar turned away.
“My people did not always think this way, you know,” he said. “There are scholars who believe our culture developed because our males became chemically dependent upon our women.”
Kaelus’s attention sharpened.
“Chemically dependent how?”
Sendar was suddenly evasive.
“It was only a theory. Nothing has been proven.”
“That didn’t sound like an unproven theory to me,” Kaelus growled.
Sendar shrugged.
“Women consume substances males generally do not. They produce different hormones…different metabolites. Perhaps over generations our males learned that staying close to females kept the worst effects of the virus under control.”
Kaelus thought immediately of the unidentified compound in every male blood sample.
“Then your males are not enslaved.”
Sendar frowned at him.
“No?”
“No,” Kaelus said. “They are being treated.”
Sendar’s mouth twisted into a sneer.
“By women,” he spat out the word as though it tasted bad in his mouth.
Kaelus nodded.
“Yes. By women.”
“And that does not trouble you?” Sendar demanded.
Kaelus shrugged.
“Why should it?”
Sendar’s metallic eyes narrowed.
“Because dependence is weakness.”
Kaelus shook his head.
“Every living organism depends on something…air…water…nutrients…other organisms. Mutual dependence is not slavery—it is biology.”
Sendar’s expression hardened.
“For a male who claims to be an outsider, you sound very much like a male of Titus Four.”
“I’ll try not to take offense,” Kaelus said dryly. For a moment he thought the other male might become angry. Instead Sendar laughed.
“You are amusing, Doctor Kaelus,” he remarked.
“I have been told that far too often lately,” Kaelus muttered.
Sendar raised an eyebrow.
“By your goddess?”
Kaelus frowned.
“By my wife.” The more he claimed Clair as his wife and mate, the more real it seemed.
“Of course, of course. By your lovely little wife.”
Something about Sendar’s tone made him want to hit the male. Instead Kaelus walked over to one of the restraint chairs and examined the cuffs.
“Do these still function?”
Sendar glanced over.
“I believe so.”
“Why?”
“Why not? The systems are mechanical and the metal does not corrode.”
Kaelus pulled one of the wrist restraints open. The cuff was wide enough to fit even his massive wrist. When he released it, it snapped shut with a heavy metallic click. The sound set his teeth on edge.
“Has anyone used this room recently?” he asked.