Living With Syn Read Free

bunk.
    “I’m familiar with the term,” Anya said.
    “I forgot you’re a doc.” Syn’s voice
chilled.
    Yeah, a doctor, but also, an orphan…I didn’t
use, but had friends who did. I even helped a few detox outside of
the approved system,” Anya replied, as if just stating the facts
but placing them back on a semi-level playing field. Anya put her
arm around Syn.
    “After a while, Osco said I needed to earn my
keep. So, I hooked for a bit, but didn’t like it. I told him if he
loved me he wouldn’t make me do it.” Syn looked down, ill at
ease.
    “I’ve observed that Earthen men have a funny
way of showing love. In my ER rotation I noticed that some shared
their love with their fists.” Anya took her hand.
    “Yes, exactly, he told me to shut the fuck
up. Cunts like me personified white trash, only good for pushing
pussy and floating until they died on the street from overdose or
the fist of a pissed off john.”
    Anya watched her as she continued the story
and giggled a bit because Syn’s vocabulary was a weird mixture of
Philly Street Kid and the cultured accent of the Main Line.
    She finished her story lamely, “…wound up
dumped in the street. I found a shelter and did the deal cold. They
helped me get on my feet. They called my parents, who’d already
declared me dead. They signed the certificate all made out, nice
and neat, and bribed the coroner to let them bury an empty casket.”
Anya let go and pulled Syn close for another hug.
    “Damn,” Anya said, as she shook her head.
“Goddamn, what did you do?” Syn shook her head.
    “Jonesy, a social worker at the shelter saw
to it that I had a DNA test and got a court order. I signed an
agreement that, in return for living expenses, college, and a small
settlement, I wouldn’t darken their door or file charges of abuse
or fraud. I also insisted that they give me the things my grandma
left me in her will.”
    Syn’s mouth straightened in a hard line. “I
stayed on at the shelter, went to Temple, and wound up with a
degree in social work and clinical psychology. I ran the shelter,
until all of this.”
    “Sounds like you got it pretty much together.
Why the fuss now?” Anya’s brow and the bridge of her nose crinkled
in distaste.
    “One of the bitches on board is the daughter
of my father’s friend, the one who started it all. He told his
family in confidence that I was a whore who attempted to seduce
him. He warned them so that his own daughter wouldn’t be tainted in
my company. The word spread here as well as home,” Syn finished,
shrugging her shoulders. She gave Anya a long look, expecting to
see rejection in her eyes.
    Anya rose and held out her arms and Syn flew
into them.
    Anya stroked Syn’s hair. “That bitch is not
going to get away with this. Don’t worry about her. I have a little
pull around here. Jonal and Tonas are not happy if I’m not
happy.”
    And with that enigmatic statement, Anya’s
face took on a whole new personality. She was scheming.
    “Why? Why would you help me? Why would they?”
Violet eyes filled with tears, staring at ice blue ones. She begged
whatever gods there were that she understood what Anya said.
    “Because I’m theirs; I’m also an empath.
Don’t panic. I don’t read minds, I just sense feelings. It’s
stronger now, since I mated. If you lied, I’d know.” Anya
smiled.
    “You are a cat person. Sarrans consider cats
special. The cats protect us, ergo, we’re special. Besides, cats
are picky. They don’t stay with bitches; they smell too much like
dogs.”
    Syn giggled in response; and the two Beasts
jumped into their owners’ laps and purred. A tentative friendship
and alliance forged…
    The yeoman interrupted her reverie.
    “I’m to take you through to the
disembarkation area. As soon as you are processed, the princess and
the admirals will meet up with you. May I carry the little
beauty?”
    Syn gave over Duchess’ basket and followed
the yeoman down the corridor.
    * * * *
    Syn