by Ivy Barrett
Another harsh sob escaped her, and then she sneered, “You own my body, not my mind.”
He backed Moxtel off with an upraised hand and touched the side of her face. “I’m asking, not commanding. Why are you so upset?”
Moxtel’s brows arched. Going soft on me, brother?
He ignored the jibe and focused on their female. She was doing her best to hide her sobs, but her shoulders shook with them. He stroked her back for a few minutes, waiting for her to calm down. When she didn’t, he carefully lifted her into his arms. “Form a cot, thick padding.” After the system complied, he sat down and slowly lowered her to his lap. She cried out as her sore bottom made contact with his legs, then her body tensed and shuddered in a shockingly familiar way. “Did you just come?”
“I’m sorry,” she cried. “It just happened.”
“Too much dopamine.” Moxtel watched the exchange through narrowed eyes. “I’m not sure she learned her lesson. Should have used the paddle.”
He might have wanted the chastisement to be more severe, but she had clearly had enough. “Did you learn your lesson, pet? Moxtel thinks you’re manipulating me with your tears.”
“I’m not.” She sniffed, then wiped her cheeks with her fingers. “I never cry like this.”
“You’ve never been kidnapped by aliens before.”
Belton hadn’t meant it as a joke, but it made her smile. “True.”
Not wanting her to calm down completely, Belton said, “Tell me why you’re upset or we’ll complete your punishment by leaving you alone in here until morning.”
She looked up at him, gaze wide and filled with dread. “It’s a long depressing story.”
“Then, you better get started.” He stood and carried her from the training room to his bed. Instead of sitting down with her on his lap, however, he turned and carefully placed her on her stomach. Moxtel handed him a jar of ointment, easily guessing his intent. “We’re listening.” Belton opened the jar and began spreading the healing ointment across the welts on her ass. The skin wasn’t broken. Drawing blood on any female was considered abuse.
“My parents died when I was nineteen,” she told them. “We had no aunts or uncles, so I was approved as guardian of both my sisters.”
“There was no male to provide for and protect you?” Moxtel sounded shocked. “How is that possible?”
“Earth isn’t like Yashontara.” She winced and inhaled sharply as his finger encountered a particularly sore spot. “Some females take care of themselves and their offspring their entire lives.”
“That’s unnatural,” Belton muttered, taking longer than necessary to spread the ointment. But her skin was so damn soft, her shape so inviting. He couldn’t make himself stop touching her.
“What happened?” Moxtel prompted. This was obviously the beginning of her story, not the end.
She sighed, resting the side of her face on her folded arms. “I was young and foolish. I trusted the wrong people and ended up losing almost everything.”
Belton paused, troubled by the shame he heard in her voice.
“It was not your fault.” Moxtel beat him to the words as he sat on the edge of his bed, so he could look into her eyes. “Neither was Brianne’s capture. You know that, don’t you?”
“Did you find her? Will you please tell me what you learned?”
Moxtel tensed, and stubbornness took over his compassionate expression.
Tell her, Belton urged. She needs a glimmer of hope.
Moxtel’s gaze locked with his, then narrowed speculatively. Why is she affecting you so strongly? I’ve never seen you so protective of a female.
I don’t know, but I’m asking you to do this.
With a sigh, surprisingly, Moxtel gave in. “I have a strong indication of where she is, but not an exact location.”
She pushed up with one arm, eyes wide and hopeful. “Then she’s still on one of your ships? Someone mentioned an auction. I think it was Tarn. That hasn’t taken place yet, has it?”
“How long was Tarn in here?” Moxtel shook his head in displeasure. “She’s not usually so talkative.”
“And we’re back to evasions.” She plopped back down onto the bed with a heavy sigh.
“It wasn’t an evasion,” Moxtel said. “I don’t have a better answer right now.”
“What’s your ‘strong indication’?” she persisted. “What do you think happened to her?”
She’s not ready to hear about Exotic Pets, Belton insisted. If that’s where your search led, tell her nothing more.
Make up your fucking mind, Moxtel snapped. But when he spoke aloud, his voice was firm yet patient. “You’re being rude. I will tell you more when I learn more, if it pleases me to do so.”
“Yes, Master,” she muttered, sounding sleepy. The ointment often had that effect, but it was working unusually fast.
Could be because you applied twice as much as she needed, Moxtel grumbled. Couldn’t drag your hand away from her ass?
Can you blame me? Look at her. She appeared peaceful and perfect lying on his bed. Her elegant back and freshly disciplined ass made him want to part her thighs and push his cock back inside her. He’d be gentle this time, take her slowly while she trembled and moaned.
Moxtel nodded toward the outer room.
Reluctantly, Belton followed his cousin out of the bedroom and closed the barrier. “Does Xarr have Brianne?” He knew the answer before Moxtel nodded. “Damn it. Does Ram know?”
“He wants me to see if Eltor will buy her.”
Belton considered the dismal possibilities then threw up his hands. “That might be our best option.”
“No fucking way. You’ve known Eltor almost as long as I have. He’s a ruthless bastard when it comes to exotic females, especially virgins.”
Belton tensed. The implications were daunting. “Brianne is untouched?” The hunters focused on areas where females of child-bearing age gathered: universities, bars, and social events. It prevented them from capturing females who were either too young or too old to provide sexual comfort. “Is Brianne not as attractive as the other two?”
“From all accounts, she’s even prettier. Why do you think she was sold to Exotic Pets? Xarr doubtlessly paid a small fortune for her.”
“And he’ll double it at the auction.” Selling a small percentage of the captured alien females was an element of this rebellion Belton despised even more than the body-slave program. But they needed the credits. Revenge was expensive, especially on such a massive scale. And the Yashonty dead must be avenged. Without a blood sacrifice, they could not transcend to the next stage of existence. “If you don’t want to contact your uncle, how do we get her back?”
“I’m not sure yet, but I’ll think of something.”
Belton nodded, but his gaze drifted toward the bedroom door. “We didn’t hear the end of her story. She distracted us again.”
“You’re right.” Moxtel shook his head. “And I didn’t even realize it until now. Obviously, I’m besotted with her too.”
“You’ve touched her mind. What do you think upset her like that? It has to do with her sisters, but I’m not convinced she’s riddled with guilt.”
“That’s part of it, but I sensed more frustration than guilt. She’s angry at life and angry at her family, both her parents and her sisters.”
“And it’s her anger that makes her feel guilty.” Belton nodded. That explanation better fit her personality. “I’d better sleep out here. I’m hard as a rock, and she needs to rest.”
“She’ll be out for several hours thanks to your overindulgence with the ointment. I’ll sleep in your bed if you’re really worried about fucking an unconscious female.”
“I see your point.” They walked back into the bedroom and silently undressed. Belton lay on his side and slipped his arm under her neck. She moaned softly, then plastered herself against his side and rested her head on his shoulder. He closed his eyes and smiled into the darkness, ridiculously happy just to hold her in
his arms.
* * *
“Let her sleep,” Moxtel insisted as Belton turned toward the bedroom for the third time since they woke up. “Yesterday was traumatic for her. She needs time to adjust. We’ll see her again at the midday meal or at shift’s end at the very most.”
Belton grumbled something Moxtel didn’t hear but headed for the main door instead.
They were both dressed and ready for the day, were expected at their stations shortly. They really didn’t have time to start anything with their lovely body-slave. Still, he understood Belton’s reluctance to leave, felt the same hunger himself. “Ram wants us to stop by his cabin before we report for duty.”
Belton looked back, brows drawn together. “Do you know what he wants?”
Moxtel shook his head. “Didn’t ask.”
Facing Moxtel again, Belton appeared almost panicked as he asked, “There’s not a chance he’ll revoke my claim, is there?”
“If he’d wanted Lorna, he would have taken her yesterday. What is wrong with you?”
Belton just shot him an impatient glare and stormed out into the hallway.
Despite Moxtel’s continual ribbing, he was encouraged by Belton’s reaction to Lorna. In their youth, Belton had been carefree and quick to laugh. Moxtel had always been ruthlessly ambitious and a bit brooding, so the Skarilians hadn’t changed his personality, just his immediate goals. Belton, on the other hand, had been completely transformed. He’d been captured during the massacre and spent three years on a Skarilian mining outpost. It wasn’t surprising that the experience had changed him, but Lorna was the only person, male or female, who had penetrated the icy darkness Belton used to protect his shattered soul. Belton didn’t understand what he was feeling, wasn’t ready to examine the cause. Moxtel’s objective perspective and empathic receptors helped him see the situation more clearly. Whether she meant to or not, their fragile body-slave was bringing Belton back to life.
Smiling with private insight, Moxtel moved into the corridor and headed toward Ram’s cabin. Belton had already entered by the time Moxtel reached the door. The panel rolled upward and Ram said, “Get your ass in here. Vikrin is about to arrive.”
Vikrin? The prime gatekeeper? Ram had given the Tavorian seven days to—
Before he could finish the thought, light burst through the fabric of space, forming a jagged line in the center of the room. A rush of energy followed, whipping Moxtel’s hair and shaking small objects all over the room. Belton gasped and staggered back a step, then a strange resonance like white noise muted all the other sounds. Only Ram and Moxtel knew about the Skarilian base and Ram’s secret meeting with the Tavorians, so this had to be confusing for Belton. Moxtel had seen video images of Tavorian gates opening and closing. Still, watching the phenomenon on a holo-display didn’t capture the power and intensity of a Tavorian portal.
The jagged line expanded, growing longer and wider until a passage was visible inside the oblong opening. A chalk-white hand and a booted foot appeared, then the rest of the gatekeeper’s body. Moxtel only had an impression of pasty skin and smoke-like hair before a second figure emerged, and then a third.
Belton lurched into action, drawing his ion blaster as he positioned himself in front of Ram. Moxtel reacted a millisecond later, pulling his sidearm as well.
“I gave permission for you to board my ship. No one else.” Ram moved to Moxtel’s side as he addressed the Tavorian who’d arrived first, the one with waist-length hair. He spoke Ventori, likely the only language in which they were both fluent. “Explain yourself, Vikrin.”
“We mean you no harm.” The prime gatekeeper held up both hands to shoulder level but appeared slightly smug. “I didn’t realize the Yashonty were so easily frightened.” All three Tavorians had white skin, not pale like Lorna’s, but actually white. Vikrin’s eyes were blue, the color so vivid it appeared backlit. The other two had eyes the same color as their hair, a smoky mixture of gray, blue, and white.
Immediately disliking the arrogant gatekeeper, Moxtel moved closer, his blaster targeting the center of the Tavorian’s forehead. “You will address General Dulvet with the proper respect or this conversation is over.” Ram preferred the title Commander, but the other rebel commanders took orders from him, so General was more accurate.
Ram’s mental chuckle rumbled through Moxtel’s mind. Has your body-slave made you both paranoid? Tavorians don’t carry weapons. They are pacifists.
Another word for cowards, Belton responded, his weapon remaining in his hand.
Moxtel opened his mind, allowing the Tavorians’ emotions to wash over his empathic receptors. They were confused and uneasy, a bit resentful, but not hostile. Vikrin’s emotions were more aggressive than the other two, but even he was no threat to Ram, or anyone else. With a frustrated sigh, Moxtel intensified his mental shields and returned his weapon to the bracket on his thigh.
Belton’s job was to protect Ram, so he lowered his arm, but didn’t put his blaster away.
“Introduce me to your companions,” Ram prompted, his tone steely.
“Tavorians believe there is power in knowing a person’s name, so both have asked to be addressed by position.” The prime gatekeeper motioned to the reed-thin male on his left. “This is one of our top scientists. He specializes in genetic manipulation.”
Ram nodded.
Moxtel watched carefully, still unsure of the meeting’s purpose or why Ram had asked for Belton and him to attend.
“And this is my personal assistant.” Vikrin motioned to the female on his right. “She is here to bear witness and record anything on which we agree. I asked that you have at least one trusted crewmember on hand for the same purpose. May I presume these are the two you have chosen?”
“You may,” Ram said in the same formal tone. “My first officer and my head of security.”
Vikrin nodded toward Moxtel and then Belton.
“Shall we sit?” Ram motioned toward the padded bench and backless chairs on either side of them.
The Tavorians sat together on the bench, leaving the individual chairs for the three Yashonty.
What do you sense from them? Ram asked Moxtel. What’s Vikrin’s true motivation?
“I have no hidden agenda,” Vikrin said, his expression closely guarded. “I can sense the power at Moxtel’s command. Empaths are generally banned from formal negotiations. We should have been notified.”
How the fuck had Vikrin known his name, much less the nature of his abilities? Ram had introduced them by title and Moxtel hadn’t felt anyone touch his mind. Unnerved, he silently waited for Ram to react.
“I apologize,” Ram said, then reluctantly added, “I will select someone else if you insist. However, my first officer has an extensive knowledge base as well as psychic abilities, so his insights are invaluable to me.”
“He may remain as long as he makes no attempt to penetrate any of our shields. We consider that a physical violation.”
“Understood,” Moxtel said grimly, reinforcing his mental shields. Vikrin could create tunnels between dimensions. Why was he surprised that the Tavorian could read minds? Despite Moxtel’s reluctant admiration of the gatekeeper’s abilities, Moxtel’s opinion of Vikrin’s personality hadn’t changed. He was an arrogant prick.
“Have you come to accept my offer?” Ram said with a half-smile. When it came to passive aggression, Ram was one of the best. “I thought you needed time to secure the cooperation of the other gatekeepers.”
“You didn’t make an offer.” Vikrin scooted to the edge of his seat, strange blue eyes seeming to glow. “You issued an ultimatum. Open a mega-portal or else.”
“I offered you an opportunity to assist me in obliterating the creatures who slaughtered nine-tenths of your population. I thought that the opportunity would be enough.”
“We are not warmongers,” the scientist said, his grayish gaze openly hostile. “Vengeance accomplishes nothing but more death.”
“Skarilian death,” Belton stressed. �
�The blood of our enemies must be shed before our dead can move on to the next plane of existence. If we fail them, they are damned, and we will know nothing but torment in this world and the next.”
“Tavorians do not believe in an afterlife,” Vikrin told him.
Moxtel and Belton exchanged dumbfounded looks. How could intelligent beings not believe in an afterlife? Why would the Creators pour so much time and energy into people who only lived one lifetime? The concept was foolish.
Before they could argue the point, Vikrin said, “I am here to continue the negotiation, not argue theology.”
“You’ll help us obliterate a common enemy or you won’t. What’s there to negotiate?” Ram absently rubbed his thighs as if he were trying not to clench his fists—or use them.
“It’s not that simple,” the scientist insisted. “We—”
Vikrin backed off his companion with a subtle hand signal. His gaze remained fixed on Ram. “We are not opposed to supporting your efforts to end this war. However, we cannot be directly involved in violence.”
“I thought I made it clear from the beginning that all we need you to do is get us there. We will do all the fighting.”
Vikrin dipped his head once, acknowledging the statement, but his posture and expression remained tense as if he were about to deliver devastating news. “I believe I can convince the others to form a mega-gate. It won’t be easy, but it will be impossible without one concession from you.”
Ram cleared his throat, a sound Moxtel had never heard him make before. Then Ram took a deep breath and said, “I don’t generally offer ‘concessions,’ but it would be foolish to throw you off my ship until I’ve heard what you have in mind.”
Something Ram said made Vikrin smile, and his amusement was echoed by the other two half a second later. Moxtel narrowed his gaze and intensified his empathic receptors. He’d promised not to touch their minds. That didn’t mean he couldn’t analyze emotions they emanated. Clearly, they were communicating telepathically, yet Moxtel had sensed nothing. Telepathy wasn’t his strongest skill. Still, he usually sensed when others were telling secrets. Vikrin came across mild and nonthreatening, but he was clearly more dangerous than he seemed.