“I…what if I disappear?”
“We will come and find you,” Ellard said in a firm voice. “But I think his disappearance has something to do with the ship.”
“All right,” she said, but her voice lacked confidence. “I’ll do it now.”
“Stay alert, and keep talking to us the entire time.”
“I’m going now,” she told Ellard. “I’ll morph up to the sturdy branch up there and stand on it. Should I become visible?”
“No,” Gweneth said. “Save your energy. Just keep talking to us.”
Gweneth glanced at Ellard when Sheera popped from view. “You think the ship knew his location and captured him somehow?”
“Yes,” Ellard said in a low voice, his gaze on the bushy pink-and-green leaves of the surrounding trees. A faint breeze had sprung up, the scent holding a pungent bouquet, which didn’t agree with his feline. He sneezed.
Gweneth scowled at the mass of trees and plants. “I don’t like this.”
“Me neither.” Ellard studied their surroundings. Narenda’s star pierced the canopy, creating flickering shadows. Dead leaves crunched beneath his boots, and to his right, a bright yellow climber wound around a dead tree, a jarring contrast to the feathery pink-and-gray trunk. But no matter how hard he concentrated, he couldn’t hear birds or insects or any other animal life. Instead, a preternatural silence hung over the forest.
“I wish we had weapons.”
“At least we have your knife. That’s a start.”
Sheera’s head shimmered into sight and Gweneth managed not to make a sound, although Ellard saw the way she clamped her mouth shut. Glittery tears ran down the woman’s cheeks, her panic evident. “I couldn’t see Leeam or the ship.”
“What about the force field?”
Sheera wrinkled her nose. “It’s like a bubble over the area. I could see the curve of it over the flat hill. The sky is a weird color outside. A muddy yellow with streaks of red.”
“You can see through the force field?”
“Yes, but it gives me the creeps. It’s like something rubbing my skin in the wrong direction, and the field saps my will power. I want to reach out and place my hand on it.” Sheera blinked, her long eyelashes sweeping her upper cheeks. “Leeam said that wasn’t natural and we should keep away.”
“The field of debris has moved even closer. That would be why no one has come to search for us. That thing doesn’t behave like any storm I’ve witnessed before. We should get moving and explore the rest of the area.” Ellard commenced pacing.
“But what about Leeam?” Sheera asked.
Gweneth went to Sheera and put her arm around where she thought the girl’s shoulders would be. Her arm cut through air, and Sheera giggled, the sound a welcome mood lightener.
Ellard stopped and Gweneth ripped her gaze off his muscular backside. Not quick enough, judging by his stern look before he addressed the Incorporeal woman. “Sheera, do you have any weapons?”
“No, but I can make them as long as I have enough energy.” She sent them a shy smile. “You produce tasty energy during lovemaking.”
“Good to know,” Ellard said in a dry tone that made Gweneth grin. “They know we’re here. They’ll return for us. The force field must be a trap to catch something.”
“Us or Sheera and Leeam?”
“Do outsiders know you come here?” Ellard asked.
“We have always lived with the dragon shifters. Until Ransom took over as chieftain, outsiders never visited our planet,” Sheera said. “We are a secretive race and don’t appear to strangers.”
“But you were very open with us,” Gweneth said. “We haven’t been here long, but already we know a lot about your people.”
Sheera blinked out. “I need to conserve my energy.”
“That is fine,” Ellard said. “Remain close though so we can protect you.”
“That is why you were given our secrets,” Sheera said.
Gweneth shared a quick look with Ellard. “Pardon?”
“We can read minds. It is how we are able to fashion what each recipient requires. Niran judged you both pure and good people and worthy of our secret. Your first instinct was to protect me. You helped join the search to find Leeam and me when we went missing. You fed us, and now you’re trying to keep us safe. That is why we gifted you with our secrets. Some seek to exploit us.”
It was the most Sheera had said since they met her and her words rang with passion.
Gweneth thought about the dragons. “Ransom doesn’t have a mate.”
A tinkly laugh rang out. “No, but he is a lusty male. His energy is piquant and sustaining. All the dragons are lusty lovers.”
“I sort of want to ask how we measure up,” Ellard muttered.
“We’ve told you already,” Sheera replied. “You produce tasty energy. Leeam and I feasted well and we needed it.”
“Good to know,” Gweneth murmured, shooting a smirk at Ellard. He looked kind of cute with the hint of color high on his cheekbones.
“One more question before we move,” Ellard said. “How long will Leeam’s energy supplies last?”
“We feasted well last eve but we used up some of our energy providing you with food and clothes. Unless Leeam is able to find another food supply, maybe two cycles?”
“Let’s move,” Ellard said and strode along the defined path leading through the trees.
“Sheera, how close do you need to be in order to feed?” Gweneth asked.
“We need to be near the location. If a couple is in a room, we must be outside. We are not peepers. Not usually,” she added in a sheepish tone. “Leeam and I will never disclose details either, Gweneth,” Sheera said in a stiff voice. “It is a basic tenant of our culture. We rely on others to provide our food, and we never, ever wish to make them uncomfortable.”
Ellard heard the hurt emanating from the girl’s voice and exchanged a glance with Gweneth.
“I’m sorry. Ellard and I…this is new to us. We’ll learn together, all of us. Now let’s find Leeam.”
“I’m sorry too,” Sheera whispered. “Friends?”
“Yes.” Ellard spoke for both of them. “We’d better cut the conversation. We’re coming up to a clearing and it’s full of those plant things. I can hear their drones.”
For half a cycle portion, they navigated the trail, brushing past sharp leaves and rough vines. Sweat trickled down his backbone, his tunic clinging to his chest and back. The squawk of a bird and heavy footsteps had them stepping off the track once to allow a flock of the big birds to amble past.
The tinkle of running water became audible and the trees thinned. Ellard slowed and scented the air in the same way she’d seen Ry and Camryn, and recently, Jannike.
Gweneth stopped at his side and jumped backward without warning.
“What is it?” Ellard demanded, alarm tightening his shoulder muscles.
“Baby plants.” She pointed at the ground then frowned at her right boot. “At this rate I’m not going to have any boot left. With each encounter, that hole becomes bigger.”
“We’ll have to cross the river,” Ellard said.
“What about the animal that howled all night?”
“Sheera, did you see it? Do you know what it is?” Ellard asked.
“No to both questions,” she whispered.
Gweneth stared at the river. “I guess we need to find a place to cross. It looks deep. And cold.”
“Can you swim?”
“I’m half feline. Of course I can swim.”
“I can build you a—” Sheera broke off. “The ship is returning.”
“New plan,” Ellard said. “Sheera, I want you to become visible and stand between us. Wrap your arms around our waists, so they’ll have to take all of us.”
“Face the danger without hiding,” Gweneth murmured. “I like the way you think.”
“But—” Sheera began.
“At least this way we will know what we face.” Gweneth reached for the girl�
�s hand as she shimmered into sight. “Hopefully, they’ll put us with Leeam, so he won’t be in danger of starving.”
“And we’ll discover if they’re friend or foe,” Ellard added.
Sheera trembled like a tree leaf in the middle of a violent storm. “I’m scared.”
Ellard tucked her against his right side, leaving his arm free. Gweneth nudged closer and looked up at the hovering ship, visible through the bubble of the force field.
“Tracking beam,” Ellard said.
A ray of illumination shot through the bubble and focused on them. Gweneth’s skin tingled, and Sheera whimpered.
“It’s okay,” Ellard said. “This is a good plan. We’ll know what we’re facing, and once we’re out of the bubble, the dragons will have a better chance of finding us.”
He broadcast confidence, and Gweneth worked on presenting the same air of self-assurance. As the beam enclosed and lifted them, he prayed this idea worked.
Tension gripped Ellard’s chest, a tight band of steel restricting his breathing as they whooshed upward toward a ship hovering above the dome of the force field. Sleek and long in shape, the hull bore a patchwork of paint, which told its age and pedigree. An older ship of military origins sold for scrap. Someone had patched her up and done a reasonable job, given the purring of her engines.
As they neared the open cargo hold, the urge to roar his frustration almost overwhelmed him. Instead, he worked hard to channel his training and keep alert for escape possibilities. Of course, one part of his plan might get them killed. Gut instinct told him they’d wanted the young couple for their special abilities and knew of their existence. If their captors decided he and Gweneth were surplus to requirements, nothing would stop them.
He might have led the woman he admired into a trap.
A trap that might end with them both dead.
No wonder he was having trouble breathing.
“Recognize the ship?” Gweneth murmured against his ear.
His respect for her rose another notch. Most woman would’ve embraced full panic mode by now. Sheera continued to tremble and shudder between them, but not Gweneth.
He studied the black-and-gray ship again with no recognition. “Not yet.”
“They might kill us.”
Ah, that sharp brain of hers had already played the angles.
“At least we’ll be outside the dome.”
“There is that.”
A frisson speared him, the sense of someone brushing his fur the wrong way as the beam drew them through the force field without difficulty. A mustard-colored cloud obscured the ship for an instant, the oily and sour stench making his breathing raspy. A cough racked Sheera, her slight body twitching uncontrollably between them. The cloud skittered away and the hovering ship grew closer, bigger, and something about it that pulled at his memory. Something familiar.
“If a debris storm didn’t do us in, I have no doubt we can get through this too,” Gweneth said.
“That’s my girl.”
Neither of them commented on the tremor in her fighting words.
She smiled and the warmth almost penetrated the anxiousness shadowing her green eyes. “Am I your girl?”
“Sheera, make yourself invisible. I want you to do something important for us. The instant we’re inside the ship and on solid footing, move away and try to find Leeam. Can you do that?”
The girl sniffed and swiped the back of her hand over her nose.
“Leeam is counting on us,” Gweneth said in a low voice.
The girl pushed back her shoulders at the reminder, gave a curt nod and faded from sight. “Yes, I can do that.”
The beam guided them into the open hold, a cavernous space, previously used to hold military supplies. At present, the area stood empty. Ellard scowled. A quick jaunt then. They wouldn’t have much time to effect an escape. The cargo doors slid shut behind them, the protesting creaks continuing for some time before the ship became sealed again. Without warning, the beam loosened its grip on them, and Ellard tensed, ready to fight. Nothing to use as a weapon in this dingy hold. The walls and floor bore evidence of rotations of service, the walls a military gray covered with dents and scratches and graffiti.
A door creaked open, as grumpy as the main hold door, and four bearded men strode through. Ellard took one look at their swinging leather kilts and assortment of weapons—swords and blasters—and groaned. Bloody Scothage reivers. At one time, reivers had preyed on the few trade ships visiting Viros. Lynx and Shiloh had seen them off, and he hadn’t heard of them traveling near Viros since.
“Where is she?” The man’s bushy black beard didn’t hide the knife scar on his cheek. His grease-streaked plaid shirt in checks of red and green also bore a chieftain’s badge. His black boots slapped the dusty floor as he strode toward them, his leather kilt swinging.
“I suppose this isn’t the best time to ask him what he’s wearing under his skirt,” Gweneth murmured.
Ellard barked out a laugh, the sound attracting attention.
“Where is the girl?”
“I’m here,” Gweneth said lifting her hand in a friendly wave.
Ellard slid his hand behind his back and pinched Gweneth’s butt. She jumped, shot him an apologetic look and buttoned her lips.
“I know him,” one of the other bearded men declared, his green-and-black-plaid shirt straining over his barrel chest. “That be Ellard, aye.” He approached and nodded. “Aye, he be the king’s bodyguard. The Virosian king. I heard he lost his arm.”
The chieftain halted in front of them, his fingers rubbing the hilt of a massive broadsword even as his gaze lingered on Gweneth. “Use the weapon. I want that woman contained and incarcerated with the other Incorporeal.”
“Aye, laird,” one said and pulled a silver box from the waistband of his kilt. He strode to the door they’d entered through and fiddled with something on the box. He slowly circled, aiming the thing around the hold. When nothing happened, he frowned and exited the cargo area.
“So you be the king’s bodyguard. Have a score to settle with the Virosian people.” He continued to stroke the hilt of his weapon then grinned to display teeth unexpectedly white given his grubby appearance. “I be wondering how much they pay to get you back. Aye, hurtin’ their pockets be satisfyin’”
His gaze roamed Ellard before settling on Gweneth. Ellard bristled. His feline bristled, and he sensed an answering distaste from Gweneth. The man studied her as if she were a tasty morsel of food for consumption.
“Who be you, pretty bird?”
A scream sounded—feminine and rife with panic.
“Ah, we have the woman.” His voice radiated satisfaction of a job well done. “Take them to the lockup. All of them. I be feelin’ hungry. We break our fast while we decide our next move.”
Some of the tension faded from Ellard’s muscles. They had a chance of escape, and maybe now that they were outside the force field the dragons would manage to track them.
The chieftain wandered from the hold, toward the screams. As one, he and Gweneth bounded for the door, but came face-to-face with two of the Scothage reivers. With weapons in hand, they smirked at Ellard, their features full of bring-it-on smugness.
Ellard pulled up and Gweneth slid to a halt, holding her hands in front of her.
“Frisk ’em for weapons, aye,” the smaller of the two said, his wiry frame and braggart attitude bringing to mind one of Keira’s pouter-chicks—the birds she kept for eggs and meat.
Ellard held his hands out in the same manner as Gweneth as the beefy man neared. Ellard drew in a breath and wrinkled his nose. The Scothage needed to work on his personal hygiene. None of the Virosian felines would ever let themselves drop into that state of stinky, no matter how poor their circumstances.
The male frisked him with brisk and knowledgeable efficiency. He took his time, his search more thorough with Gweneth. When he grabbed her breast, Ellard snarled but Gweneth acted quicker and smacked the reiver over the head.
<
br /> “I have no weapons, you numbskull moron, and certainly none there. Stop trying to cop a feel.”
Ellard tensed, ready to spring if the stinky Scothage decided to belt Gweneth back.
Instead, Stinky chuckled, unabashed by her chastening. “She be right. No weapons. Soft, sweet-scented breasts.” He grabbed his crotch and did an offensive hip rock. “I be voting to keep her.”
“Darrack won’t agree if we be getting good currency in exchange for her safety,” Pouter-chick said. “Though she be a tasty wench.”
“I am not—”
Ellard elbowed her in the ribs, and she glowered, rubbing the spot. “Ow, that hurt.”
“Don’t you be beatin’ on her,” Pouter-chick warned. “We get top currency for her if she whole. Make someone a good rootin’ wench.”
“Ah…did you…” Gweneth trailed off, eyes wide and at a loss for once.
Despite the circumstances, Ellard bit back a grin. Gweneth’s splutters were very cute.
“To the cells with ye,” Stinky ordered. His long, single plait fell over his shoulder with the force of his gesture. “Ye be walkin’ in front. No skullduggery, aye, or there be consequences.”
“Consequences,” Pouter-chick taunted, his black beard bristling in silent laughter, the series of small braids holding his hair back jiggling. “That be fightin’ words.”
“Idjit,” came the reply.
Ellard witnessed the twinkle of the man’s eyes. These men were a solid team, knew each other well, but then, so did he and Gweneth. Somehow, they’d get out of this mess, since it was obvious the reivers didn’t intend to kill them. Opportunists, they wanted currency. He’d heard the Scothage race practiced thrift, and in this case, it would work to their advantage. Arranging a ransom or selling them to the highest bidder would take time.
Ellard took in their surroundings and memorized their route through the ship. Scuffed gray and more gray.
Gweneth walked at his side, equally attentive, and pride suffused him. She might be young but thanks to Ry and his crew, she acquitted herself well.
A feminine scream rippled along the gray corridor.
At his side, Gweneth tensed.
“Who are you torturing?” Ellard asked, with a glance over his shoulder.
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