by Tana Stone
“You should rest,” he said.
“Well, so should you.” She didn’t know why she was so snappy, except that stress made her act without thinking and talk without measuring her words.
“I am fine. Drexians do not need as much sleep as humans.”
She twisted around on the bed, propping her head up on one hand. “Oh yeah? How many humans have you met?”
He rolled over and mirrored her position. “You are the second.”
“That hardly makes you an expert.”
A smile teased the corner of his mouth. “Maybe not, but Drexians have been studying humans for many years. We know a great deal about your species. Even though I have never been to the Boat, I know much about your kind.”
“You mean because of the whole tribute bride thing?” She couldn’t help rolling her eyes when she said it.
He tilted his head slightly. “Yes. You do not like the fact that you are a tribute bride?”
“Would you like the idea of being kidnapped and then forced to marry a total stranger?”
He was silent for a moment. “I do not think I would. But you would never be forced to do anything. You can choose not to be a tribute.”
“And be kicked to the reject section?” She gave him a withering look. “Gee, thanks.”
Madeleine didn’t know why she was taking out her frustrations on him. He was only the guy sent to rescue her, and he obviously didn’t have anything to do with the whole alien-abduction, mail-order bride set-up. “You said you’ve never been to the Boat?”
He gave a curt shake of his head.
“I assumed all Drexians had been to get hitched.” She eyed him. “So, no tribute bride for you?”
“No.” His answer was clipped.
She probably shouldn’t push. She could sense that he didn’t want to talk about it, but she was curious. “Explain to me why a captain from the most elite fighting force in the entire empire wouldn’t have his pick of women.”
“Inferno Force fights on the outskirts. It is no place for a human female.”
That made sense, but she didn’t believe that was the only reason. “I’m sure some Inferno Force warriors get hitched. I’m pretty sure Serge told me about two or three Inferno Force weddings he’d planned recently.”
More silence. “Not every warrior is suitable.”
Her gaze moved down his body, taking in his tapered, rippled stomach, his muscular legs and his thick, inked arms. If there was a more “suitable” specimen of maleness, she hadn’t seen it. There was clearly something else going on, but he wasn’t going to tell her. “I get it. You’re not a one-woman-for-life type of guy. I’m the same.”
His brow furrowed. “You do not believe in one mate for life?”
She snorted a laugh. “I don’t really think about mating, but no.” She flopped back on the bed. “From what I’ve seen, most people don’t stick around. Friends move on or fall out of touch, co-workers move to different stations, family…” Her voice faltered but took a breath. “The only constant in life is change. It’s the only thing you can ever count on.”
“And you like change?”
“When I was twelve, I was in a train crash. My entire life changed in an instant. Everything I thought it was going to be was gone, and it was totally out of my control.” She twitched one shoulder up. “I decided to embrace the chaos instead of trying to fight it.”
He did not respond for several seconds, the silence yawning between them.
“I am sorry, Madeleine.”
She tried to clear her throat, but it felt thick. “It is what it is. I guess that’s why I was picked to be a tribute bride, right? Serge said you guys go for women without families or lots of friends. Who knew keeping to yourself would make you a prime candidate for alien abduction?”
She wanted to laugh at her own joke, but she couldn’t. Even though it had been a long time, the loss still lingered like an open wound deep inside her. It was why she’d avoided getting close to anyone. She couldn’t bear the agony of losing people she loved. She had no problem risking her life, but she couldn’t bear risking her heart.
“This is why you are so reckless?”
She didn’t like that characterization, but it wasn’t like she hadn’t heard it before. Her co-workers had called her fearless because she was always the first person to run into a dangerous situation. “The wave is going to hit you no matter what. Might as well run out and meet it head-on. At least you’ll have a little fun along the way.”
“You are sure you are not Inferno Force?”
Madeleine smiled. “Pretty sure, but I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
“You should.”
She blew out a breath, ready to be done talking about herself and her sob story. It had been forever since she’d even mentioned the train accident to anyone, and it always startled her that there was still pain there—and that it was so sharp. Despite trying to bury it long ago, it remained the driving force in her life.
“So, tell me about you and Inferno Force.” She twisted her head to look at him again. “How did you decide that living with a bunch of guys way out in the middle of nowhere and fighting aliens was your jam?”
“Inferno Force is for the bravest and strongest, the warriors willing to make the biggest sacrifice.”
Her gaze instinctively went to the slash down one side of his face. She wanted to know how he’d gotten that battle mark. Even though what she’d seen of his warrior prowess had been impressive, it had also been highly controlled. He was hardly wild or bloodthirsty, although she suspected you didn’t get to be a captain by being out of control.
That kiss wasn’t controlled, a little voice whispered in the back of her head. The kiss he’d laid on her in the corridor had been passionate and hungry, which was the opposite of everything else she’d seen of him. The kiss and the scar told her that there was way more to Brok than he wanted anyone to know. They told her that underneath the veneer of command and discipline, there was desire and impulse. Madeleine wondered what would happen if she could unleash more of that side of him. A shiver of anticipation skated down her spine.
“You’re right.” She turned to peer up at the ceiling again. “If I were Drexian, I’d want to be Inferno Force, too.”
Chapter Fourteen
Vekron leaned back and raked his finger through his long hair, pulling it up and tying it into a loose knot on top of his head. He blew out a breath as he stared at the incoming transmission.
“This can’t be right,” he muttered, lifting the mug of hot Chedi tea to his lips and flinching from the heat but welcoming the sweet berry tang of the drink. His beverage of choice was usually Cressidian gin, but not when he needed to stay awake and stay focused.
It was long after his shift had ended, but he hadn’t been able to sleep well since the captain had left to go down to the surface of Spartos. He knew it was probably because Captain Brok was using his latest technology upgrade for the first time. It was always nerve-wracking to have an invention taken on a mission, especially when its performance was a matter of life or death.
That wasn’t the only reason he was up late in his quarters, however. He’d been doing a deep dive into the mysterious planet of Spartos, and their even more mysterious residents. There was so little information out there—the result of being xenophobic and walling off outsiders—that he found the challenge exhilarating. He’d always loved searching for an answer no one else had found, whether that meant creating a new weapons modification, or hunting down the hidden origin of a species.
He peered at the screen, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He’d definitely been at it too long, because he was starting to stumble onto bizarre snatches of information and whispers of rumors that were more than unsettling.
Of course, at this point, almost everything he had tracked down about Spartos had been a rumor. The planet did not conduct diplomatic relations with other species, or engage in trade. They appeared to be self-sufficient, with advanced enoug
h weaponry to fend off unwelcome attacks or advances. As far as he’d been able to discover, the last alien race that sent a landing party to Spartos had never heard from their crew again. They’d managed to get a transmission off to their home world before being blasted out of the sky for violating Spartosian space. That had been twenty astro years ago.
He stood and paced a small circle in his cramped room. He knew Captain Brok had insisted on going to the surface himself, but he hated the idea of his captain and mentor down there alone, especially since this unknown species seemed to have zero tolerance for intrusion. If they discovered him, they would most certainly kill him. But they would only discover Brok if the device he’d created failed.
“Which it won’t,” he insisted to himself.
Vekron calmed himself and sat again, tapping the keyboard and scrolling through more accounts of Spartos. There were almost no firsthand accounts, but even the stories passed down said the same thing—fearful of outsiders, interested in little but pleasure, technologically advanced but still lived with ancient traditions. He found a few reports of them acquiring slaves, but it was always through a procuring agent. As far as he could tell, no Spartosian ever left the planet. They had the ability for space travel, but apparently no desire for it.
That was something Vekron could not understand. Since he was a child, he’d longed for adventure and challenge. It was why—despite his talent for science—he’d joined Inferno Force. Besides, no part of the Drexian military needed innovation as much as Inferno Force. They were on the front lines of every battle, and his modified weapons had saved his ship’s ass more than a few times. The fact that his weapon modifications were then shared with the entire Drexian fleet was an added bonus.
Taking another sip of the sweet tea, he delved even deeper into the astro-net, using his skills to dip behind firewalls and enter dark places few could find. Searching the dark net was not something he did often, because the things he saw haunted his dreams, but he felt compelled to know more about the planet they were secretly orbiting.
After searching for so long that his tea went cold, he was about to click out and give up when something caught his eye—a report from a ship that claimed to have taken a Spartosian hostage. The ship was a smuggler vessel, and the crew almost entirely wanted criminals, so it appeared that their claims had been widely ignored, but what they said made his blood run cold.
Vekron leapt up and rushed out of his quarters, not even bothering to throw a shirt on top of the drawstring pants that he slept in. His bare feet padded on the cold, steel floor as he nearly ran through the Inferno Force battleship.
When he burst onto the bridge, he saw that it was manned by a skeleton fifth-watch crew, with only a handful of officers standing at the dark metal consoles. The blue planet swirling with white that was Spartos lay out the front view screen, although he knew that no one from the planet was aware they were hovering above the atmosphere, fully cloaked.
Scanning the officers, his gaze locked onto Kalex, standing at the captain’s post. He let out a relieved breath. Just the Drexian he’d been hoping to find.
“Kalex.” He crossed quickly to the first officer.
The Drexian glanced up and eyed his bare chest and low-slung, drawstring pants. “Not wearing full uniform does not mean this, Vek.”
Vekron gave his friend a look, then glanced down at himself. He’d almost forgotten he was barely dressed and barefoot. “It’s not my shift yet, but I had to tell you what I found.”
“What you found? I thought it wasn’t your shift.”
Vekron grabbed the fellow Inferno Force officer he’d gone through the Drexian military academy with, and Kalex’s teasing expression dropped from his face. The warrior knew him well enough to know when he was serious.
“What is it?” Kalex asked, giving him his full attention. The rest of the bridge had also gone quiet, as if everyone was holding their breath to hear what he’d discovered.
“It’s Spartos. I think the captain is in more danger than we know.”
“Why do you think this?”
Vekron steadied his breathing. “I’ve been searching for any information about the planet, and I found something that explains why they don’t want anyone visiting, and why they never leave.”
“And it’s not just because they aren’t interested in making new friends?” Kalex asked.
“The Spartosians aren’t actually what we think they are, or what anyone thinks they are,” Vekron said.
Kalex stared at the blinking dot on his console that indicated their captain’s location on the planet and swallowed hard. “Then what exactly are they?”
Chapter Fifteen
“The Spartosians are out of their minds.” Serge looked down at the new outfit that had been delivered to him earlier in the morning. “They cannot expect me to wear this.”
Madeleine assessed the bright-green jumpsuit and peaked hat. He looked a little bit like a galactic Robin Hood. “I remember the clothes you wore on the boat. I know you don’t go for neutrals.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Those suits had style—flared collars, metallic piping. This has nothing.”
“Look at the bright side. At least it’s got color.”
“I suppose it is better than that dull thing they put me in yesterday,” Serge muttered. “But I am not wearing the hat.”
Brok cleared his throat gruffly to cover his urge to laugh. “Do you get new clothing delivered every day?”
He’d been able to quickly cloak himself when the attendant had entered the tower, but it had been a close call, and one he didn’t want to repeat. When he’d finally drifted off to sleep, it had been late, and he’d still been stretched out across Maddie’s floor when the heavy door at the end of the short hall had opened. Luckily, a tap on his device had rendered him invisible, but it hadn’t made him less solid. It had taken every ounce of self-control not to make a noise when the human had swung her feet over the side of the bed and stood on him.
If the Spartosian hadn’t been so distracted by carrying the clothing over her head, Brok was sure she would have thought it odd that Maddie appeared to walk on air for a few seconds before finally touching down on the stone floor.
“So far, they’ve brought us a new outfit every day,” Maddie told him. “Although, to be honest, we haven’t been here long enough to know what’s normal or not.”
“This jumpsuit is not normal,” Serge said under his breath, earning him a curious look from both Brok and Maddie.
“It must have something to do with the baccavalia that woman kept yammering on about,” Madeleine said. “She seemed pretty excited about it.”
“Really?” Serge wrinkled his nose. “I was too distracted by the hideous clothing.” His eyes dropped to Maddie’s outfit. “Although, yours isn’t so bad. It looks a lot like the other one, only with lots of sparkles, and fewer layers of the skirt.”
Brok looked at the new garment Maddie had put on under the attendant’s direction. The Gatazoid was right. It was similar to the other outfit, with a long skirt made of layers of sheer fabric with lots of high slits, and a barely-there halter top. Instead of the top being silky fabric, this one seemed to be made entirely of glittery beads, and there weren’t as many layers of tulle for the skirt, making it possible to see the outline of the female’s legs.
Brok tore his eyes away so he wouldn’t think about her bare legs under the skirt. He still had nothing to wear but his boxer-briefs, so getting aroused in front of Madeleine and Serge was not an option.
“She said the outfits went with your roles for the baccavalia,” Brok reminded them.
“Our roles?” Serge pulled the pointy hat off his head. “What does that even mean? Is this some sort of amateur theatrics hazing ritual?”
“Doubtful.” Brok crossed the window in Serge’s room and peered down. The patrols had lessened, and the usual laughter and frivolity had returned to the city. Either they’d decided there was no intruder after all, or they’d changed
their search tactics. “Not much is known of Spartos, but we do know they’re all about a good time.”
Madeleine made a derisive sound in her throat, which left no one in doubt of what she thought about the Spartosian version of a good time. Brok felt his own anger rise as he remembered her dazed and naked as she lay underneath the Spartosian prince. If he hadn’t been able to locate her in time, he knew what would have happened. No, he did not have much regard for the Spartosians’ concept of fun, either.
“So, you think this is a costume party of some kind?” Serge asked.
Brok hesitated, knowing that any party the Spartosians threw would probably rival that of any of the pleasure planet blowouts. He’d seen the way the residents acted in public. He could only imagine them at a party. “Of some kind.”
“At least we both spit out our pills today,” Maddie said to Serge, whose hair flushed slightly pink.
He ignored her pointed look. “How was I to know it was a feel-good drug? No one wants to get radiation poisoning.”
Brok furrowed his brow. “If you both have to attend this baccavalia, at least you’ll both be fully aware,”
“Just don’t drink the water,” Madeleine added.
Serge gaped at her. “Don’t drink the water? What kind of a thing to say is that? What are we supposed to drink?”
“Probably best not to drink,” Brok said. “But don’t worry too much. I’ll be watching you.”
“About that.” Serge tapped one foot on the floor. “What’s the plan to leave? As charming as it is being locked up in a tower and dressed up by strangers, if I don’t get back to the Boat soon, there are going to be lots of unhappy brides.”
Brok turned around. “My hope is to use the cover of whatever this baccavalia is to get you two out of the city and to my cloaked shuttle.”
“That means we’re going to have to play along with things for long enough for everyone else to be out of it or distracted.” Madeleine crossed her arms over her chest and the beads of her top jingled. “I can do that.”