by Reagan Woods
Tixerian psychic powers weren’t widely known, but their role as Imperial Slaves was common knowledge. It wouldn’t do to have Bram casually mention that he’d seen a “free bug,” as the Tixerians were called, in the company of a few rogue Lyarans. That would paint an even bigger target on all of them as Hash-Han already wanted them dead.
Lyon was clearly of the same mind. “Better Bram doesn’t find out Ssszit exists.”
“Best if he didn’t return to the CGA at all,” Zocan corrected, deliberately distracting his mate with a tantalizing glimpse of his plans.
Lyon raised an inquiring brow. “You mean to kill him when we get to Xani, then?”
“I must be getting soft,” he denied, shaking his head. “I’d rather convince him that returning to CORANOS space, especially after his commander left him for dead, is a bad bet. Step one, is to get him to violate the Warrior Code by killing the assassin. The Council wouldn’t look outside the Warrior ranks for an assassin.”
“Why not just push him out an airlock?” That bloodthirst was one of the reasons he loved Lyon so much.
“The same reason I let the Novink Warlord keep Lara’s friend,” Zocan told his mate. “If things go our way, a war is coming. We will need all the experienced fighters we can call on, and he will be grateful.”
Lyon frowned. “Grateful?”
“Yes,” Zocan smiled. “He’s clearly a half-breed. His kind have no chance at female companionship in the social structure of the CGA. We’re giving him the opportunity to win one.”
Pride lit Lyon’s face. “You would have been a fine ruler, darling, you’re always thinking ten steps ahead.”
“In the meantime, there are many situations to monitor.” Zocan released an exhausted breath. “It was a risk even waking the Doranos. What if he tries to contact the assassin and double-cross us?”
“I think I know how to keep his focus here,” Lyon’s smile didn’t dim.
Chapter Seven
The infuriating alien ignored her. Again. This was one characteristic it seemed all the invaders shared. Ass hats. Whenever they didn’t want to answer a question – bam – their faces went blank and they walked away.
Bram couldn’t exactly mosey off as the cabin, if you could call it that, they were in was only twelve by twelve. And yet, he busied himself with something close to the wall. She tried to peek around his broad back but whatever he fiddled with, he blocked completely from view.
Intimidating didn’t even begin to describe her babysitter. Thick with muscle, his build was the exact opposite of the Doranos men she’d met in the prison camp. Her eyes returned time and again to the flex of his wide shoulders beneath his black uniform, the strong column of his neck. He wore his white hair cut close to the scalp at the back and sides, it fell a tad longer on top. It made him look dangerous. The neon white, flowing locks of the prison overseers had given the illusion of angels fallen to Earth; though they were anything but angelic.
She told herself she stared because she hadn’t seen many of the albino-like aliens with short hair and hulking muscles. In truth, there was something about him, the possessive way he looked at her that made her uncomfortable, hyper aware. Topin – she remembered him better now - the Doranos who’d taken her from Earth, had stared at her like that, but, she reminded herself for the hundredth time, this wasn’t Topin.
It was wrong to stereotype, Lacy knew that, but her experiences with alien men hadn’t been good. In truth, her experiences with most men weren’t positive. Her alcoholic dad, a single parent who ran her mother off with his shitty behavior, vacillated between fatherly doting and abusive sonofabitchery. When his antics attracted too much of the wrong kind of attention at the Western Central Government settlement they lived in, a glorified trailer park, Lacy ditched him to make a life in the seedy Outside.
In the scuzzy underbelly of society known as the Outside, things had gone from bad to worse, but it was too late to go home. By then, the war raged between the Western Central Government and the Pan Asian Union. People like Lacy stayed alive because they provided an outlet for the baser needs of the highest ranked men in the land. Oh, she wasn’t good enough, pure enough to be a permanent bed warmer, but whenever they wanted to dominate someone, they came looking for women like her.
Not that she was a victim, because she wasn’t. Everything she did started of her own volition; however, not all of it turned out to be ‘safe, sane and consensual,’ as the philosophy went. Rather than let bad experiences deter her, Lacy went to work at the underground club for WCG officers. The rules were clear and enforced with safe words and the whole bit. She had been alright there. Until the aliens showed up and ended the party.
Bram had been part of that mess. Now, he appeared unwilling to tell her exactly which way the winds blew in this new shit storm. A cloud of doom lurked on the horizon, that much was clear from his grim demeanor, and she wanted all the facts. The situation called for a new approach.
“If you won’t tell me what is going on, I’m going to assume the worst,” she told him. He stilled but didn’t turn around. “Are you taking me somewhere to trade me for goods?”
That had been a favorite scare-tactic of the monitors in the camp. Bram made no answer, so she guessed again. “Is there some sort of brothel where I’ll bring a pretty penny? Is that it?”
He growled, slapping a meaty hand against the dark wall, and spun to face her. Pink eyes narrowed, he stalked toward her, speaking rapid-fire Corian Standard.
Lacy scooted slowly across the mattress as he came closer, dread creeping on needle-like feet up her spine. “I t-told you I don’t understand,” she stuttered, regretting her decision to push for answers.
He stopped talking but continued his advance. Their eyes locked. His eyes were like pink fire in his pale face, but she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
When he reached the edge of the mattress, he didn’t relent, walking on his knees until he had her pinned against the far wall. The cold surface at her shoulders had her shivering as sweat rolled beneath her foil covering.
Moving quickly for such a large man, he snatched her up in his powerful arms. She expected to land with a jarring thud and flinched, knowing it would hurt her aching body. Instead, he laid her back with careful, deliberate actions.
Apprehension created a lump in her throat, she was vulnerable and hurt. And he was huge. Though she felt weak, Lacy fought his hold, clawing the arm pressing her down. “No!” The long, bloody welts her nails sliced didn’t deter him.
His palm pressed heavily between her breasts. She knew he could feel her heart pounding beneath his hand. God, that cold look in his eyes was terrifying, it froze the air in her lungs.
Face set in an emotionless mask, Bram pushed the blanket from her body, exposing from her flank up the curve of her ribs carelessly. Instead of breaking eye contact, he held her gaze as he pushed a thigh the size of a tree trunk between her knees. His hand moved from her chest to support the pillar of his arm next to her head. Her hair, trapped underneath his hand, pinioned her to the mattress now.
Slowly, he pressed forward, levering his weight above her until he was so close she tasted his breath. The shock of fear overcame her, and she drew a lungful of air, prepared to shriek, to fight, and, ultimately, to lose. She could never physically match his strength.
There was a loud snap that made her jump. It settled into a buzz before it dropped to a low hum. Warmth began to seep into her exposed side. Breaking eye contact, she shot a disbelieving glance down her body to where he ran the healing wand over her ribs with his free hand.
The corner of his mouth ticked up, and relief washed over Lacy. Trying not to show how scared she’d been, she glared into his amused face and growled, “You’re such a dick.”
“No,” he shook his head, a frown creasing his brow. “I. Am. Bram,” he enunciated each word slowly.
Exasperated, she trained her eyes on the dark metal of the ceiling while he continued moving the wand in sure strokes above her s
kin. “I mean you’re being an ass,” she mumbled, so exhausted with relief that she couldn’t work up a good mad.
His eyes held silent mockery as he sat back on his haunches to treat her abdomen. Bram’s sense of humor could only be labeled as sadistic, she decided, unable to stop staring at his pale, alien face. “But I see that you knew that. Very funny.”
His chuckle surprised her; deep and rich, it slipped over her like a physical caress, a trail of gooseflesh rising in its wake. She shivered, telling herself it was the cool air rushing around her skin in the sudden absence of his body heat. “Paybacks are a bitch.” She didn’t put much behind her words, but she felt the need to say something, to let him know she wasn’t going to take his bullying – playful or otherwise.
The wand sketched warm lines over her stomach muscles. For the first time in recent history, she began to relax, her body loosening as some of the pain eased. God, that felt nice.
Bram appeared detached, his gaze clinical as he evaluated, rolling her this way and that with strong, callused hands and an impersonal touch. When he was finished, she realized he had rolled her into a human burrito with the blanket from the bed. “Heal good,” he grunted. “Next, broth. Then, sleep.”
“How about ‘next, broth. Then, answers,’” she suggested dryly as he helped her free her arms and propped her upright.
That chiseled jaw turned to stone again. “You no like answers.” He bared straight, square teeth fiercely. “But you live.”
Chapter Eight
Bram knew Lacy baited him to get information, but the crack in her voice when she hurled the ugly accusations gave credence to her fear. What kind of a male did she believe he was? A civilized male didn’t stoop so low as to sell a female – certainly not to places like brothels or meat markets. That was just nonsense.
He understood her mostly, yet he wasn’t fluent enough to set her straight. This was not a problem he expected to encounter. Everyone adopted into the CORANOS Galactic Alliance, the CGA, by petition or by force, went through reconditioning – a system of psycho-adaptive reeducation. Bram couldn’t fathom why the Earther didn’t comprehend Corian Standard, it was the first language introduced via the reconditioner, but the blank look on her face whenever he tried to communicate wasn’t faked.
She sipped the nutribroth without complaint, her features haggard with exhaustion as she studied her surroundings. The tiny room had to be totally alien to her with its old Warrior-issue sonishower, an even older sleep surface and the privy as ancient as the freighter itself.
The injuries she’d sustained were healing, but it was slow going. Studying her closely as he shucked his boots and prepared to sleep, he saw deep circles beneath her odd blue eyes. Her face settled into groves of jaw-clenching pain. And yet, she didn’t complain.
He liked her spunk, her willingness to face a grim situation head-on, but her body needed to heal. Fast. If they had any hope of escaping this situation with their lives, she needed to be physically strong. Right now, her vulnerability had new, protective instincts swirling through him.
It left him with an unfamiliar tightness in his throat when he realized he might not be able to keep her safe. He didn’t know why her wellbeing mattered to him, but it did.
“I’m finished,” Lacy told him, holding out the shallow bowl as proof. “I’ll take those answers now.”
Conscious of her delicate state, Bram climbed onto the meagre sleep surface, shooing her gently toward the wall. He needed to be between her and the door. Zocan claimed he wasn’t interested in Lacy, but Lyon was another story. He’d been openly attracted, his behavior in the med bay spooking her into Bram’s arms.
Bram couldn’t complain about the way she’d clung to him. It made his cock swell and his chest puff with pride that she’d taken his protection so willingly. The idea of escaping someplace safe with her flirted at the edges of his consciousness. He firmly put that fantasy aside. It was nothing but a manufactured distraction.
She wriggled over, obedient for once. It was going to be cold without a blanket for himself, but he’d experienced worse. He slid his finger over the manual control next to the sleep surface to extinguish the cabin lights.
“I’m serious,” she pressed, her soft voice floating through the darkened room. “What’s happening here?”
The pirate ship was steadily weaving from one asteroid field to the next, but they were approaching the leg of the journey that worried the Lyarans – any proficient navigator could see that from the star charts. He assumed they would tell him the exact plan soon. That, or decide he wasn’t worth the hassle, now that the wormhole generator was repaired and Lacy was on the mend. Either way, they’d make their move sooner rather than later.
“Bad things,” Bram began, not sure how to continue. He cursed softly in Doranese. “Not many words…”
“You already told me the pirates are pissed because your Commander took off with their woman,” she prompted. “How much worse could it get?”
“Much,” he bit out. She fell silent and Bram hoped she’d fallen asleep.
He wasn’t that lucky. “Exactly how far from Earth are we?” The softness of her words, the vulnerability of her question, tugged at something inside him.
From what he understood, the general population of Earth hadn’t realized life beyond their little planet existed until they were already under the CGA’s control. Finding herself in space with aliens had to be like a nightmare for her.
“Too far.” He answered, knowing she wished to return home. Earth was beyond their reach now.
This far out, the Cengemi Belt was the only protection available. From there, they entered the Dead Zone. That vast emptiness would take a full seven days and nights to traverse assuming this old ship performed without mishap. With no physical cover available and no place to run, they’d be incredibly vulnerable to the High Council’s assassin.
If they had shielding, using the wormhole generator would be the ideal solution. It would give them the opportunity to traverse the great distance without confrontation. Not that the assassin wouldn’t follow, but at least they could pick the place for the showdown. As it stood, Bram anticipated spending that week sleeping at a weapons station on the command deck. He and the Lyarans must be ready to fight or run at the first sign of aggression from the CORANOS hunter.
“Great,” Lacy’s voice turned petulant. “You say we’re in danger but won’t tell me from what. Now, I’m just supposed to believe I can’t go home? Why?”
“Too far, and…” Bram thought hard, absently scratching his ear as he sought the right words. “Killer follows.”
The breath she sucked in was audible, and he felt like he’d kicked a small, defenseless animal. “What? Why?” Her voice held shocked disbelief.
He growled, frustrated. That someone tracked them as they rabbited was a given. Lyon reported nothing on their sensor sweeps, but an assassin hired by the High Council would have patience and skill. It required wits and stamina to outrun such a determined adversary - especially in this clunky ship. Though, it was possible - he had to believe that.
Assuming they survived the Dead Zone, Coniru, a nasty, frozen world on the edge of a red-dwarf system, was the closest destination. The only thing of note on, or rather beneath, Coniru was the sub-surface slave auction. Bram would die before he let himself become a slave, and he shuddered to think of what would become of Lacy there. The Lyarans had given their word that he and Lacy would be set free. If they double-crossed him and ‘set them free’ on Coniru, he would make this assassin seem downright harmless with the fury he’d unleash on them.
There were two other, much worse, possible destinations nearby. The first was Siimcoe Station, an infamous hotbed of illegal activity. Banned weapons, illicit drugs and high-stakes gambling were just a taste of Siimcoe’s offerings.
Siimcoe Station revolved around the rogue planet Xani. Some species ate other sentient beings as rite of passage, a means to absorb power. They went to Xani’s flesh markets to ind
ulge in cannibalistic rituals. It was a horrific mix of slaughter house, hooker’s den and pirate haven.
By the ancestors, he hoped they weren’t headed to Xani. It would be difficult to smuggle Lacy out of there. Small and defenseless, she would be a prime target for the base creatures that haunted the dark world.
“Pirates bad. Council want gone, send killer,” Bram pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off the headache blooming behind his eyes. In some ways, he regretted that he didn’t have the words to communicate the severity of the situation. Mostly, he was just relieved he wouldn’t have to say any of this aloud just yet. He wasn’t smooth or polished, and there was no way to cushion the situation for her.
Stupid as it was, he felt responsible for her. His people had taken custody of her planet and she didn’t know enough to survive in the greater universe.
“Your Council is a high-handed bunch,” Lacy gritted. Then, as if speaking to herself, she murmured, “How do I get out of this?”
He swore again. The nuances of the situation, the danger they were in was impossible to communicate. “I get…both out.”
“Sure, buddy,” she snorted derisively. “Whatever you say.”
Lacy didn’t have to believe him. Not yet. But the time was fast approaching when she’d need to follow his orders without question. They could work on that tomorrow. After some much-needed sleep.
Chapter Nine
“They’re asleep,” Zocan reported, turning from the monitor where he spied on Bram and the female. The relief his words inspired was short-lived.
“We’re a day, two if we slow, from the Cengemi Belt,” Lyon prompted, spinning his chair to face the others. The time for talk was quickly winding down and Lyon’s blood sang with the promise of bloody battle. This was what he was made for, what he’d been molded to do. He was a fighter from birth.
The dim light of the bridge cast shadows over Zocan’s face as he leaned against a console, while Ssszit’s scaly hide gleamed dully from the shadows. It was risky for him to be out in the open like this, but they needed to peruse the star charts to plan their next moves. That was why they waited for their guests to settle before they met.