by Reagan Woods
“I did it!” She crowed, bouncing from foot to foot victoriously.
With effort, Bram peeled his eyes away from the slice of firm, peach hip peeking out of either side of her tunic’s open seams. “Good,” he grunted.
Confidently, Lacy stepped up to the clear tube of the sonishower. She reached through the open door and tapped the user interface. When nothing happened, she turned to him with a frown. “I thought I was getting the hang of it.” Her shoulders drooped as she stepped back and studied the tube.
Bram realized his mistake and bit back a tortured groan. Big blue eyes blinked earnestly up at him as he shifted his weight uncomfortably. He shouldn’t have agreed to teach her about the sonishower.
Reluctantly, he stepped into the tube. It, too, was old CGA tech but it had been designed for civilian use. A sonishower created for Warriors would have been much roomier.
Bram held out a hand, silently inviting Lacy in. For a moment, she hesitated, but then, she drew her shoulders back and took his hand. Pride filled him at that small token of trust.
He pulled her into the shower. There was barely enough space to maneuver so she stood with her back to his front. When he pulled her flush with him, the door slid shut and the touch screen lit.
“Oh,” her soft voice echoed off the walls. “You have to be inside.”
“Yes.” Taking her small hand in his, he slid her fingers over the appropriate command sequence. “Clean clothes, hair, teeth and skin,” he told her.
“That’s convenient.” The air around them heated with invisible sonic waves and Lacy pressed against him as the tube began to subtly glow. “Um. Should it be doing that?” She asked.
“Safe,” he reassured, resting his hands on her slight shoulders.
When the cycle ended, Bram helped Lacy from the tube and studied the results of their shower. Her skin flushed a rosy hue and those blue eyes sparkled with life.
There was a pang of disappointment when she twisted her red tresses into a messy knot atop her head. He much preferred the waterfall of rich color cascading over her shoulders and down her back. If she were his -
Lacy drew a breath as if prepared to speak, but three hard raps on the door heralded the moment he’d been waiting for.
Bram didn’t fancy himself clever and he knew his place in the order of things; he was expendable. That gritty truth had the angry beast in his breast constantly gnashing to get out, to wreak havoc. His career through the Warrior ranks had been driven by that perverse rage. He’d honed it, channeled it into vicious productivity and attention to detail. That’s how he earned his commission as navigator aboard the Horizon, and it was how he’d garnered the invitation to join Vank’s highly regarded Track Team.
These Lyarans were either here to attempt to throw him out an airlock or to tell him their intended destination. Bram hoped they would leave Lacy in this cabin if they intended to lay hands on him. He didn’t want her to witness it when he sent these males to their ancestors. This expendable wasn’t going down easily. Absently, he patted his left cargo pocket where he’d stashed the laser sharps he used to work on the generator.
He schooled his features in to a serene expression as he palmed open the door to Zocan’s lazy smile. “Care to join us on the command deck?”
Zocan was alone. Eyes alight with curiosity skimmed Lacy from head to toe. “She’s looking much better. You seem to be as gifted at mending flesh and bone as you are at repairing wormhole generators.” His lips turned down ruefully. “If I’d found you at another time, I do believe I’d be giving you a permanent spot on my crew – whether you wanted it or not.”
Bram laughed as was expected, but he wasn’t lulled by the other male’s easy conversation. Zocan was a pirate, and, as such, an expert in misdirection. Right now, Bram was more interested in where Lyon might be hiding, waiting to strike when his guard was down.
“Bring your female along and we’ll find some suitable clothing,” he paused, frowning down at Lacy. “Though, she is very small. I don’t think we can do much better for a top, actually, but I can probably find some slippers and leg coverings.”
“You have my gratitude.” Bram kept his eyes on Zocan and curled the fingers of one hand in Lacy’s direction. “Come.” He couldn’t insult the other male by rejecting the show of hospitality. Plus, Lacy needed more to wear than a cut up emergency blanket, no matter what happened.
She placed her hand in his with a muttered, “I’m not a dog, dude.”
Focused on Zocan, he swung her slight weight up and settled her against his chest. “Not a child, either.”
Bram ignored her grumbling and followed close on the Lyaran’s heels. Like this, he hoped to keep Lacy warm and out of harm’s way. He didn’t know where Lyon was, and, if the other male attacked from behind, Bram had easy access to the laser sharp in his pocket.
Peripherally, he saw Lacy’s eyes narrow as she studied Zocan’s back. Smart female that she was, she wiggled around until she could see over his shoulder behind them. She didn’t say anything, but he knew she kept watch.
Bram was pleased with her instincts despite the situation. He gave her back a pat of approval before urging her arms around his neck. She would have to hold tight while he climbed the ladder after Zocan.
Chapter 12
Lacy squirmed in the squishy chair as she scanned her surroundings. When she was young, before the splintering of the nations and the ugly wars that followed, she loved video games, particularly space-related games. She’d been Queen Bitch of the trailer park when it came to action-oriented deep-space fight sims.
Now, she was really on a spaceship command deck, and she felt ripped off. This hunk of junk was more Atari-era Space Invaders than Mass Effect or Elite Dangerous.
The floor was dull metal with a sticky, nubby coating. There were two utilitarian consoles bolted to the ground, each lined with chairs that looked like hollowed out eggs with a hole cut out of one side. Bram deposited her in the weird seat and stepped away to speak with the pirates.
There were no windows into space, no cool swipe screens, and no amazing weapons in sight. The whole room felt cobbled together and generic. Wires with odd little boxes dangling at the ends hung from the ceiling in clusters every few feet looking like half-assed electrical work.
“We are so screwed,” she mumbled to herself. Even from afar, the CORANOS ships had appeared far more sophisticated than this. If this alleged stalker really was a CGA assassin, there was no way they could outrun him in this junk-ass ship.
She shifted uncomfortably as the grunts and growls of the three alien men rose in volume. Eyes, one set pink and two of yellow, flicked in her direction too often for her to mistake the topic of conversation.
Lyon, the alien with the short hair, broke off and prowled her way. His yellow eyes hungrily raked over the soft black ankle boots she wore before moving up to stare holes through her slick white pants. Unease pricked her spine. Her body tensed, ready to run.
He spoke softly in a rolling, lilting language she never heard before as he moved steadily closer. Her eyes shot to Bram, silently pleading for him to do something. Lyon scared the crap out of her – and she didn’t scare easily.
Bram barked a string of harsh consonants that ended on a hiss of clear displeasure. The gold-skinned alien stopped uncomfortably close, his big body looming ominously as he reached out to finger an errant strand of her hair.
Lacy jerked away from his touch and jumped to her feet. On shaking legs, she made her way to Bram, unabashedly reaching out for the big Doranos. He pulled her close and tucked her slightly behind his broad form as he spoke to Zocan and Lyon in the snapping growls of Corian Standard.
She didn’t understand it, but somehow, she’d come to associate Bram with safety. This language barrier between them was hell on her nerves. It was stupid not to tell him she spoke Doranese, she realized that now. He would have relayed at least some of what was said to her.
The atmosphere was heavy and rife with anger. Zocan wore
a pissed-off expression but hadn’t verbally entered the fray. Eyes slitted in displeasure, Lyon appeared ready to take a swing at Bram. Bram’s wide, protective stance said he was ready and willing to fight if that’s where things were headed. None of this boded well for working as a team to thwart the CGA hunter.
A shiver worked down her spine. All three men’s eyes shot to her again. “What?” She muttered, turning her focus to Bram while doing her best to ignore the other two.
His nostrils flared, a spark of something she couldn’t name flashing in his pink eyes. “Lyon want trade.”
“What?” Lacy repeated, at a loss. She chewed her lower lip while she debated. Her Doranese was way better than Bram’s English, but would he lose it on her when he realized she’d been holding out? Her silence hadn’t made his life easy lately.
“Lyon want –,” he broke off. One long finger came up to scratch his ear.
God, this was painful. The other times they’d interacted, they used body language and tone to give the other cues. With the pirates studying them, their rhythm was off.
Lacy glared openly at the interlopers. They ignored her blatant discouragement and approached.
“Say it in Doranese,” she blurted in that language.
Bram sucked in a breath as his eyes widened. The shock on his face quickly gave way to jaw-clenching anger.
Lacy instinctively flinched, but the slap she expected didn’t come. Peeking through scrunched eyelids, she saw the unguarded horror on his face.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, heat clawing up her neck and face. The floor seemed the best place to focus as she fiddled with the hem of her silver tunic. “I should have told you I spoke Doranese.”
With slow deliberation, he smoothed an errant lock behind her ear and murmured, “We will speak of your reasons for holding back later. When we do, you can explain why you believe I would assault you.”
“Shit.” Lacy ran clammy hands over her hot face. He might be angry, but he wasn’t going to harm her. “That wasn’t anything you did. As for me – um – withholding my knowledge of Doranese, surprise, I guess,” she finished lamely.
Bram shook his head as if to clear it. Then, he explained, “When you were still in the regen bed, Zocan and I agreed I would help you heal. Then, at an agreed upon time, you and I would be free to go.” His easy tone was in direct contrast with the hard eye he kept on Lyon.
That didn’t sound so bad, from the pissy looks the men tossed around, she was missing something. Something big.
“And?” Lacy whispered, turning her face up to his. There was no way to know if either pirate spoke Doranese. She probably should have thought about that before she opened her mouth. Though, it was a safe bet they didn’t since neither interrupted the conversation.
“Now, Lyon would like to barter for you,” Bram relayed grimly.
Lacy reared back, jerking angrily away. “Excuse me!?!”
Bram’s posture went rigid as he winced at her shriek. “You’re going to have to trust someone at some point,” he growled. “Never mind. We’ll talk about this later.” Like a shutter dropping, his face wiped blank. Those pink eyes went as cold and flat as his voice.
The reality of her situation hit viscerally. Panic nearly doubled her over. These three aliens were the only people in the universe who knew she lived.
Any of them could overpower her with minimal effort. Things could get bad. Fast. She needed to make a stand and show a preference for one of them.
Lacy shivered and worried the inside of her cheek as she thought. From his behavior, she knew Lyon wanted her in the most basic way. Hadn’t she spent years around men like him?
Zocan was courteous but coldly uninterested. He might keep her for amusement, or he might slit her throat. Nothing about him gave her the warm fuzzies.
Bram, though, had been downright accommodating. There wasn’t so much as a hint that he would take what she wasn’t willing to give. His behavior was unusual for a Doranos, but welcome.
Before the invasion, having flexible morals kept her alive. Working at the club was technically her choice, but there hadn’t been a lot of options for a runaway trailer park princess with daddy issues.
Whatever came next, one thing had to be clear: she wasn’t a commodity to be bought, sold or given away. Not anymore. She was sick and damned tired of being railroaded into dicey situations.
Hands fisted on her hips, Lacy told Bram, “I don’t want to talk later. I want to talk now.” She squared her shoulders, tossed her hair back and stomped a foot for good measure. Childish? Yes. Whatever. It got the point across.
Chapter 13
Eyes wide, Bram made an excuse to chaperone Lacy off the bridge. As illuminating as his conversation with the pirates had been, he didn’t want to do this here. She appeared nervous and angry – a volatile mix.
Zocan’s mouth tilted with amusement, and Lyon continued to eye her hungrily. Their frank interest spurred him to ask, “To room, yes?” He invited her to lead with an upturned palm, careful not to touch her in any way.
“We’re back to English now? Why?” She stalked to the small landing where the ladder descended to the lower decks and waited, toe tapping.
“In room.” He sat her aside and preceded her down. If they slipped or were jostled, he would rather she fall on him than the other way around.
When they hit the catwalk, she stomped off. She had a good sense of direction, Bram noted as she arrowed toward their cabin. He followed sedately.
The simple black shoes Zocan fabricated for her appeared comfortable and sturdy, and the tight white pants molded to her calves like a second skin. Even the makeshift top, wrapped tight around her middle and hanging to mid-thigh, complimented her vibrant coloring.
Lacy pulled up short at the door, waiting, arms akimbo, as she glared in his direction. She couldn’t enter the cabin without his palm print, and Bram unabashedly enjoyed her impatience as he sauntered up next to her. He reached over her shoulder to open the door.
“You’re smirking,” she accused, stomping through the portal.
When the door slid closed behind them, he told her, “You’re being feisty.”
Blue eyes, clear like the skies of her planet, narrowed and her pink mouth pursed for a moment before she continued in his language. “So? What are you going to do? Beat me?”
Lip curled, Bram reached for the healing wand and passed it over to Lacy. “No. I’m going to keep you on schedule. Now you’re feeling better, you can do the parts you can reach. I’ll help with whatever you can’t get.”
“I can handle it myself. Why are you being so nice? Because I supposedly belong to you?” She challenged, accepting the wand with a raised eyebrow.
She stood close enough for Bram to inhale the sweet, female scent she emitted. The flush that climbed her slender neck and lit her cheeks delighted and enchanted. He would never tire of witnessing such exotic displays of color and temper.
It was fascinating to watch her assert herself. Her hands went to her hips and she stared up at him defiantly. Quickly, he rolled his lips between his teeth to hide his smile.
“No,” he denied. “Because now our communication is better, and I know you’re feeling well enough to do some things yourself. By the way, I have questions about your miraculous ability to speak Doranos.”
“I don’t have to explain myself,” she blustered.
“Lacy, I’m not your enemy,” he rejoined calmly. After all the time he spent worrying over her, her prickliness stung.
“Not my enemy?” Her eyes widened to unbelievable proportions. “Really? Are you telling me you weren’t one of the alien soldiers who rolled through my home, hunted my people down, and forced us into prison camps?”
Wearily, Bram passed a hand over his face. The female gave him a headache. Not to mention, her insistence on translating English idioms and slang straight into Doranese was annoying. “Fine. If we’re enemies, can we please call a truce?”
“Depends on where we landed with
the whole ‘you think you own me’ thing,” she snapped stubbornly.
Sucking in a breath, Bram mentally counted to ten. “I don’t own you. Yet,” he told her flatly. “After my work here is done, I will. At least, as far as these pirates are concerned.”
“What does that mean?” She scowled, crossing her arms and pushing to her toes. The effect was less than imposing, but her intention was clear.
Nostrils flaring, Bram pulled a hand through his hair and turned away. “I did my job on your planet. I’m sorry you were hurt by that,” he apologized. He was proud of his position and accomplishments. That didn’t mean he didn’t regret her pain. “Here’s the situation: we’re going to Xani, a rogue planet overrun with flesh eaters, slavers and pirates. Our hosts, being pirates, believe they will find safety there. You and I, however, will not. You will be fucked and then eaten or eaten as you’re fucked.”
“That’s gross.” Lacy made a face.
Her shoulders slumped as his words took hold, and she backed up uncertainly. “What will happen to you?”
“I’m leaving.”
“That’s it?” She queried unsteadily. “Suit yourself, Lacy, you’re going to die?”
“I’m truly sorry you are in this predicament,” he told her softly, clasping his hands tightly behind his back. The urge to comfort her, to erase the forlorn look from her face, was strong. “If there were any way for me to take you safely back to Earth, I would.”
“So…what? I have to choose between belonging to you or dying? That hardly seems fair.” Her eyes glared blue flame, and her tiny fists clenched at her sides.
Bram rubbed his neck absently with one hand and scratched his ear with the other. He already knew she resented him for being a Warrior and for his alien-ness, so it was tempting to tell her those were her options and see what she chose. That was neither kind nor honorable, though. “I never said that,” he finally corrected. When she would have argued, he cut her off. “I said it is in your best interest to behave, as in act, like I own you.”