Soul of a Predator

by Angela Verdenius

  She spoke first. “Where are we heading next?"

  "We'll follow the route Crighton was taking. Can you get him on radar if I enter his coordinates and ship's make into the system?"

  "If he's close enough, yes."

  "Then once back on the ship, I'll enter the coordinates and we start on his trail."

  "We could contact him, find out if he still has the kids.” Elyse did a quick check on the radar and scanners, but no one was following them. “Save some time."

  "I don't want to tip him off, and he may lie."

  "Brina or one of the others could contact him."

  "Your friends don't deal with slavers."

  Elyse smiled a little to herself.

  "Don't tell me you've dealt with slavers.” Distaste was more than rife in Shaque's voice.

  "No."

  "No, you're not telling me, or no, you don't deal with slavers?"

  "No, I don't deal with slavers."

  "Your friends?"

  She shrugged. The Saucy Rose crew steered clear of slavers, but that was none of Shaque's business.

  Silence descended again, and then Shaque stood up abruptly and left the control cabin.

  Relaxing, Elyse rolled her shoulders and watched the planet approach. The trip was proving to be stranger than even she could have predicted, thanks to a certain blonde bounty hunter.

  * * * *

  Leaning back in the office of Sabra's spacious home, Abra scrolled through the wanted posters on her viscomm. There were some high-profile outlaws that had been spotted on the outskirts of the Outlaw Sector, and he was thinking of heading towards there.

  He leaned forward in interest as the Bounty Hunter's private frequency came on, then Shaque's personal mark. Suddenly information started scrolling down the screen, and Abra's brows shot up in surprise.

  "Well, well, well,” he murmured. “Shaque, you've hit the jackpot!"

  Names, places, frequencies. The information continued to pour forth and fill the screen. Profiles of high ranking space pirates, outlaws, petty thieves. Those who lived on the outskirts, where they laid low, safe houses. Those who lived deeper in the Outlaw Sector.

  Shaque had dropped a bonanza into the laps of his pack.

  Abra started laughing.

  * * * *

  The girl sat in the room, shivering. It wasn't cold, but fear that made her shake. She had food, warm clothes, was clean from a bath. But she knew where she was, because she'd heard the name.

  The Overlord.

  She was in his domain.

  Biting back the tears, she looked around. The things that happened here were whispered about, the stuff of nightmares. The Overlord, the bogeyman of naughty children everywhere.

  And she was here, in his domain.

  Sitting on the bed, she shuffled back against the wall and drew her skinny knees to her chest. Hugging them close, she rested her chin atop her bony knees and stared at the closed and locked door in a mixture of fear and dread.

  * * * *

  The Overlord looked at the glowing ball that Phemar had sitting on the low table. The spaceship was heading deeper into the Outlaw Sector. The Man from Shyton was dead. Information had been stolen and sent to the Lawful Sector.

  "You have been busy, hunter.” He smiled in genuine amusement. “So very busy."

  Phemar looked up from the glowing green liquid frothing in the silver bowl. “The mutant is under control."

  "For how much longer?” The Overlord looked at him.

  "I don't know. She is unstable."

  "Makes it even more interesting.” Stroking his chin, The Overlord turned his attention to Veknor as the ebony pirate entered the chamber. “News?"

  "Sarita's whereabouts is close to being discovered."

  "Where?"

  Veknor stopped at a respectful distance. “Her trail, which left the Outlaw Sector awhile ago, is now deep into the Lawful Sector."

  "How close to discovering her whereabouts?"

  "A couple of days at the most. Everything proceeds with caution and haste."

  "Good. Good.” The Overlord nodded. “Time is of the essence, but again, only the right moves should be made.” He looked back at the spaceship in the glowing ball. “Only the right ones should be chosen. And it seems we have the right ones."

  A piece of rotting flesh dripped from under Phemar's hood and sizzled as it landed in the green liquid. Steam rose, the liquid bubbled madly. A dark shadow slipped through the room, but Veknor didn't flinch.

  "Once I have confirmation, then it will be time to act.” The Overlord's throne rose into the air and started to move towards the door. “I have watched, waited, judged, and the time of execution is near. I hold the key, I hold the weapons. Send Fredrico to the area, tell him to prepare, but he's not to move until I give the word."

  "Yes, Overlord.” Veknor gave a small bow.

  "I have chosen the weapon most carefully.” The Overlord looked at Veknor as he passed the ebony pirate. “There are just one or two more things I need to know about the weapon, and then we move."

  Veknor nodded.

  "Control,” Phemar whispered wetly.

  "Control,” repeated The Overlord. “Control is everything.” He glanced back at the glowing ball. “In more ways than one."

  * * * *

  The peace of the ship filled Elyse, and she was glad that Shaque had retired to bed without saying anything. In fact, they'd spoken not one word since he'd entered the coordinates of the slaver's ship into the scanners. They'd eaten in silence, she intensely aware of him, he not showing any emotion at all, and rather than linger after to read in the little cabin as they normally did, he'd gone back to his cabin and she'd gone to hers.

  Unable to sleep, feeling slightly nauseous as well as restless, she drifted back to the control cabin. There were a few things she wanted to ask the crew of the Saucy Rose, and doing it without Shaque's presence suited her just fine.

  Sitting down, she didn't have a chance of even trying to contact her friends before the viscomm flared to life and Brina was looking directly at her.

  "Thank the stars!” Brina exclaimed. “We heard you'd gotten into trouble in Shyton. What the hell happened?"

  "Just the woman I wanted.” Elyse sipped from the glass of chilled berry juice. “Someone tipped off Uncle Cy that Shaque was with me.'

  "What? Who knew apart from us?” Brina's eyes hardened. “You don't think..."

  "You mob did it?” Elyse shook her head. “No."

  "Good. Because you know we wouldn't.” Brina's eyes were steady. “We don't drop friends into the crap."

  "Glad to hear it.” Elyse wiped a drop of condensation off the glass. “But someone told Uncle Cy, and he was not a happy chappy."

  "I'll see if we can find anything out. Illona may hear something while screwing some poor bastard's brains out."

  Donika appeared behind Brina. “Elyse, what the hell is going on? I heard you turned full mutant.” Her expression was openly worried. “And what the hell has happened to your eyes?"

  Elyse shrugged. She didn't know herself, so how could she possibly explain it to her twin?

  "Damn it, Elyse, is there something you're not telling me?” Donika demanded.

  "You know as much as I do,” Elyse replied.

  "I thought the mutant part of you was deleted or subdued?"

  "Surprise, surprise."

  Donika's jaw clenched. “I think you need to come back to us."

  "Playing jailor, are you?"

  "God damn it, Elyse. We helped look after Sonja whenever she flipped out. We can help you."

  "That makes me feel warm and fuzzy.” Elyse smiled slightly as her twin gritted her teeth. “Donika, I haven't lost control of myself."

  "That's not what we hear."

  "Don't listen to rumours. I didn't turn on Shaque, did I?"

  "You turned on Uncle Cy."

  Elyse raised one brow.

  "But he can be a prick anyway.” Donika sighed. “Are you sure you're all r
ight?"

  "As fine as can be.” Considering.

  "This search for the hunter's sister ... it's not straight forward, is it?"

  "Turns out she was Celia, and Celia is dead. But she may have had a child of her own amongst the strays that were taken by slavers."

  "Hells bells. You're tracking slavers now?"

  "Yeah. So what can you tell me about Crighton?"

  Brina grimaced. “Mean bastard. No soul."

  No surprise there.

  "Maybe you should wait for us,” Brina said. “We can catch you up, go with you—"

  "If I need you, I'll call."

  "Be sure you do. If we can help in any way, we're here."

  "You could try and find out who notified Uncle Cy of Shaque's presence."

  "It was bound to get out that The Knifer was with you."

  "Yeah, but someone knew he was right with me in the settlement."

  "Right. I'll get onto it, put my feelers out."

  Elyse nodded. “Appreciate it. Oh, by the way, take care returning to the Outlaw Sector."

  "You know something we don't?"

  "Bounty hunters are going to be thronging the outskirts. Information has been sent to them, very sensitive information. Shaque's been a very busy little hunter. You mob just take extra care."

  "No worries.” Brina gave a little salute. “Thank you muchly."

  They passed a bit more time chatting, with Donika now and again trying to get Elyse to rejoin the Saucy Roses crew, and Elyse refusing.

  The nausea in her continued to build, and it was a relief when they bid each other goodbye and the viscomm switched off.

  Leaning back in the chair, Elyse took a deep breath. A chill went through her, and then a wave of heat. Her stomach roiled, and she pushed to her feet. If she was going to be sick, then she wasn't going to do it in the control cabin.

  * * * *

  Unable to sleep, Shaque glared up at the ceiling. He'd never had trouble sleeping before, but he knew why he was having problems now.

  Elyse.

  That damned woman.

  And his damned libido.

  Stars, he never lost sleep over a woman. He never had a libido that he couldn't control. But all he could seem to think about was her soft body, her tight heat, her mouth-watering kisses ... her virginity that he'd taken.

  And hell, they needed to talk. He needed to talk about it. Maybe he should just ignore it all. Ignore it and it would go away.

  The hell it would go away.

  Goddamn it. Was he actually avoiding her?

  Blowing out a breath, he flopped over onto his side, and saw Elyse's shadowy silhouette slip quietly past his door. Obviously she was having problems sleeping, too.

  They had to talk. Or ignore it. He couldn't ignore it. They'd actually had sex. Hot, sweaty, demanding, voracious sex. Sex better than any sex he'd ever experienced in his life.

  Dangerous sex.

  Even just the memory was enough to make his treacherous manhood perk up, his scrotum go tight, his heart start to thud heavily.

  This wouldn't do. Not at bloody all. And to top it all off, Elyse and her wise cracks when he was on the job wasn't helping.

  No, they had to talk about it. But not tonight. If they talked about it tonight, stars knew what would happen.

  He'd probably slam her up against the wall again.

  Oh yeah.

  On no.

  Tomorrow. Tomorrow they'd set some boundaries—such as no wise cracks, no sexual innuendos. And no touching. He couldn't do much about smelling her delicious floral scent, but—

  Get over it. She's a bloody part mutant and ex-pirate. For all you know, she's still a pirate. Get a bloody grip on yourself, Shaque!

  Tossing over in the bunk, he faced the wall and closed his eyes. But sleep continued to elude him.

  Kicking off the covers, he lay there in his bed shorts. Normally he didn't wear bed shorts, but he'd started to wear them to bed while on her ship. Naked on a ship with a part mutant was never in the plans.

  One thing hadn't changed over thousands of years, he thought in mild amusement. Basic clothing.

  And sex.

  Get you mind off it. Bloody hell!

  At the distant sound of a groan, he opened his eyes. The sound of retching came to him, a moan. The slim figure of Elyse again hurried past his door in the dimness. Seconds later, something dropped, a light clatter followed by a muttered curse. Another moan, pain-filled this time, followed by harsh panting.

  Jack-knifing out of the bunk, Shaque's feet hit the floor at a run. In seconds he was out in the corridor, and starting for Elyse's cabin, changing direction when he saw the kitchenette cabin light on.

  Entering, he saw Elyse standing at the table, a tipped bottle and a layer of pills scattered over the table. Her breathing choppy, she grabbed several of the pills and tossed them down her throat, chasing them down with a glass of water from which the water sloshed in her shaking hand.

  Dropping the glass back onto the table, she braced her hands on the cool surface and hanging her head, took several long, deep breaths.

  Great. Was she turning mutant on him now? He watched warily.

  The thin nightgown she wore had lace around the hem, he was surprised to see. The thin straps held up the pink cotton. Somehow he'd never thought of Elyse in conjunction with the colour pink. It was somehow ... girlie. And Elyse wasn't girlie.

  But she sure looked girlie, standing there with that soft brown hair sweeping over her shoulders, her body in muted view through the cotton with the light back dropping it.

  Never mind looking girlie. The woman is probably turning mutant.

  Sagging suddenly, Elyse almost fell to one knee, and he acted without thinking, striding forward to slip one arm around her waist. She wasn't burning up with the heat she'd exhibited before, so he guessed he was pretty safe.

  "Lean on me,” he ordered.

  "Go away.” The words were gritted out between clenched teeth.

  "I need you alive.” He braced her against his side.

  "You care so—ah!” She bent forward, her hand to her stomach. “Stars!"

  "What's going on?"

  "Belly ache.” There was a touch of irony in her voice.

  Belly ache? Shaque had a sudden suspicion. Kicking out one of the chairs from the table, he sat her down in it. “Is it that time of the month for you?"

  At that, Elyse squinted up at him out of odd-coloured eyes. No red rimmed them, but they were filled with pain. “I don't menstruate."

  "Preventative?"

  "As in, I don't have the specific organs needed to reproduce."

  Hello. He looked down at her curiously.

  "No womb. No ovaries."

  "Because of your mutant gene?"

  She shrugged.

  "Donika...?"

  "Yeah, I dare you to ask her that yourself."

  Silently Shaque started picking up the fallen tablets off the table and dropping them back into the bottle.

  Clutching her stomach, Elyse bent over at the waist.

  "What can I get you?” Shaque asked, concern creeping through him.

  "Nothing. Go back to bed.” A bead of sweat slipped down her temple.

  Like he was going to do that and leave her alone? Right.

  Clamping the cap back on the bottle, Shaque squatted down beside her chair as she started to pant softly. “Elyse—"

  "Leave me.” Pushing up, she started to pace slowly around the cabin. “I'll be fine."

  "I'm not leaving you.” He watched her pace, noting the jerky movements in what was normally a graceful and determined stride. “So get over it."

  She glared at him, a hint of red in her eyes.

  Coolly raising one brow at her, he stood up. He wasn't afraid of her, but he sure respected the mutant inside her, and if Elyse was suddenly going to go ape shit, he was going to make sure he faced her standing upright. He'd probably lose the fight—maybe—but he wasn't going to go down without a fight.

&nbs
p; Suddenly she jack-knifed over, a cry of pain bursting past her lips. Staggering up against the wall, she wrapped her arms across her waist and panted her way through the pain.

  Instantly Shaque was by her side, one hand on her shoulder. “I'll contact Byron on Saalm—"

  "Nothing he can do.” She gazed up at him out of agonized eyes. “More pills. Quick."

  Dubiously he popped the lid of the bottle, shook out several of the pills and grabbing a glass of water, returned to her side and handed them to her. With shaking hands she put the pills in her mouth and drank from the water.

  He'd hoped the pills would work quickly, but within five minutes Elyse went from panting to moaning, something he knew she wouldn't have done unless she was truly in agony.

  Worry ate at him. “You need to lie down."

  "Won't ... help..."

  "Has this happened before?"

  "Not ... this bad."

  A thought struck him. Oh God! He'd been so rough, but she'd seemed to like it, had responded, but ... “Elyse, did I hurt you somehow?"

  "What?” She opened one eye a little to squint at him.

  "We had rough sex. Hard. It was your first time, I could have hurt you inside somehow—"

  "No.” She shook her head. “No. It's not that.” Her breath caught on a harsh rasp as pain wracked her once more, her face going pasty. “I'm going to be sick.” Unsteadily, she started for the door.

  Scooping her up in his arms, Shaque strode rapidly from the kitchenette into the bathing cabin. When he placed her on her feet, she immediately fell to her knees in front of the toilet.

  And started vomiting blood.

  Ten

  Shocked, Shaque stared as the blood coated the inside of the pristine white bowl. For the first time in years he felt fear. It snaked through him in cold waves of shock.

  She was vomiting blood. Oh God what if she died? What if Elyse died right now?

  Dropping to one knee partially behind her, he wrapped one arm around her waist, supporting her as she choked and coughed and vomited crimson streaks and drops. Bending over her, he sought to lend her his strength, his warmth, his very presence, wanting her to know she wasn't alone. Smoothing back her hair from her face, he clasped it gently back at her nape.

  Several times she stopped, gasping for breath. Twice she glanced up at him, and twice he saw her eye colour changing, bleeding from blue to brown to red, a mixture of colours that seeped into one another, one over the other, each colour seemingly trying to take over her irises.