by Mina Carter
“I would like to think so. Please, dig in.” Ishaan’s smile was broad as he took a seat opposite but didn’t reassure Jane one little bit. They might look good, and be utterly charming at times, but she wasn’t fooled. All Lathar were dangerous as fuck. “So, Lady Jane. Where did you say you were from on Earth?”
I didn’t. She suppressed her initial reaction. It was an interesting and not unexpected question. She doubted any of the Lathar were familiar with earth geography, but there was no reason to lie. “I was born just outside New London, in a secondary level complex.”
“Ahhh. Sounds very pleasant.” Ishaan nodded as though he had a clue where she meant.
“Indeed, but it pales in comparison to Lathar Prime,” she replied, keeping her voice soft and sweet in her best impression of the perfectly submissive Latharian bond-mate.
Ishaan cut a glance at Karryl, then smiled. “I must say, brother, I am very impressed. I’d heard that earth females were difficult to manage and aggressive but you seemed to have trained your mate well in our ways. She seems as obedient as an Oonat.”
At her side, she felt Karryl jerk slightly. His leg shook where it was pressed against hers, as though he was having trouble holding in his amusement. They both knew she was in no way, shape, or form subservient.
“I have been fortunate.” Karryl reached for the goblet in front of him, turning the ornate vessel in one large hand. Ishaan’s gaze flicked to it for an instant before returning to Jane.
“Some of the terran women are… well, let’s just say they’re more like men. Aggressive, warlike…deadly warriors who refuse to bow to any man.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “If you ask me, it’s why their society is in such a shambles. Allowing their women such control…” He shrugged. “They need to feel the proper control of a man.”
She was going to kill him. Like, proper control dead on the floor, kill him.
Karryl sat back, sliding her a little side look as he did with a little gleam in his eye. The bastard was baiting her on purpose. “I am, of course, lucky. Some human females are not like that. They know their place,” he said and took a drink.
Ishaan nodded, triumph flaring in his eyes. “Then I am doubly fortunate. One, that you have such a well-trained mate and two, that you’re stupid enough to drink from an unshared vessel.”
Poison. Fear stalled Jane’s heart as Karryl dropped the goblet. It bounced off the table, the contents spilling across the surface.
“No! Karryl!” She leaped to her feet, trying to get to him as he sat, his expression frozen. Hard arms wrapped around her from behind, Ishaan hauling her up against him to chuckle.
“Come now, my little terran beauty. Did you really think I’d let him keep you?” He pulled her hood clear, breath warm on the side of her neck. “You were mine the moment we rescued you on that planet. You just didn’t know it yet.”
“You make me sick,” she hissed as Zanaar and another warrior yanked the immobile Karryl by his armpits out of the chair. “There is no honor in using poison.”
“Honor?” Ishaan barked out a laugh. “Who cares about honor? I care about results. Take him below and space him,” he ordered Zanaar.
“No! Leave him alone,” Jane cried out, struggling against Ishaan but not too much. She had one shot at this, and she damn well better make sure she pulled it off, or they were both dead. “Karryl, help!”
“Shhh, shhh.” Ishaan released his grip with one hand to soothe her. “Your warrior can’t save you, beautiful.”
She went still, not sagging against him but centering herself. “You know something?”
“What?” he asked, sick eagerness in his voice as he crowded his front side to her back, hands starting to move over her body.
“I don’t need any man to save me.”
Lifting her knee, she stamped on his foot, then shoved her ass back hard into his groin. He grunted with pain, forced to bend at the waist to keep his hold on her. She slammed her head back and savored the crunch as the blow spread his nose over his face.
“You little draanthic!” he hissed, backing as she spun around, and wound his fist back to hit her.
She didn’t give him the chance. Bursting into movement, she landed two solid jabs into his face, right into his broken nose. He howled in pain, stumbling away from her but there was no chance she was letting him go.
He swung wildly, but she ducked under the punch. Her movements explosive, she hammered a body shot into his ribcage, then followed it up by slamming her elbow into the side of his face. Stumbling, he tried to get a decent block into place but she was on a roll. Kicking out, she drove her foot into the side of his knee. He swore as the limb gave under him, sprawling to the ground.
Flipping faster than she’d expected, he pulled a knife from the sheath on his wrist. Adrenalin coursed through her, making everything brighter and louder. She kicked the blade away and pulled the blaster from her hip holster. This asshole had poisoned her man, so he was going to pay.
Ishaan froze, his gaze flicking from her to the muzzle of the blaster and back again. “You wouldn’t… women don’t have the—”
She pulled the trigger. The bolt slammed into his forehead, right between the eyes. Eyes that retained their look of surprise even as the light faded from them.
“Women don’t have the balls?” she asked the body before her, eyebrow raised. “Mate, mine are cast fucking iron.
Chapter Eleven
Fuck. Karryl swore mentally to himself as the two warriors carried him out of the room. Poison. Of all the low down, dishonorable… He should have expected something like this from Ishaan F’Naar. The man was no warrior, he was a keelaas snake.
“Goddess, he weighs a ton,” one of the warriors carrying him complained, grunting with effort. No surprise there. Karryl wasn’t the smallest of men, his body packed with muscle from years of combat. A body now rigid from the effects of the poison, and unwieldy to carry.
Travenis Root. He knew immediately what Ishaan had used. It was the only thing that would render a warrior incapable within seconds. Although a small dose wouldn’t kill a man as large as him; the cold embrace of space would end his life just as sure as a larger dose would.
He had to get out of this, but how? He was on an enemy vessel, poisoned, and with no way out. The only advantage he had was that they didn’t know Jane wasn’t the meekly submissive woman they thought her to be. Or that she was armed.
His only regret was that he wouldn’t be there to see their reaction.
Help, when it came, was from an unexpected quarter. The complainer grunted again, his grip slipping. Karryl snorted in his head. The male needed to spend more time in the training rooms if he couldn’t carry an inert body.
“Let’s get this piece of draanth to the airlock. Maybe when Ish is done boning the earth woman, he’ll put in at Zentan Four and we can get some action. There’s an oonat female in one of the brothels just begging for my dick.”
The warrior on the other side let go suddenly. Karryl held his breath as he canted sideways, recognizing the unmistakable sound of a blaster gun sliding from its leather holster. His view changed to a pair of heavy combat boots.
“Not happening.” The growled voice of the second guard was deep and familiar—Zaanar’s. The sound of a blaster shot was followed by the dull thud of a body hitting the deck.
“Asshole,” Zaanar muttered, crouching next to Karryl. He pulled a med patch from his pocket, and ripping it open with his teeth, slapped it on the side of Karryl’s neck.
The antidote surged instantly through his system and he took a ragged breath. Lurching to a sitting position he coughed violently, trying to expel the drug as quickly as possible.
“Sorry about that, friend,” Zaanar murmured, clapping him on the back. “I didn’t expect that piece of draanth to stoop to poison.”
Karryl nodded, waving him away as he clambered to his feet. The fact this other man carried antidote patches sang volumes. That was the least of his worries. His body ach
ed like he’d played chicken with a sub-light shuttle but he had more important things to think about than why the other warrior had helped him.
“Jane!” Tearing himself away, he raced back into the room, fear surging through him at what he’d find and stopped dead in the doorway.
The scene was not exactly as he’d expected. Jane stood over Ishaan’s body, a pistol pointed at his head, and her robes open and billowing to reveal she wore a warrior’s combat leathers. The pool of blood under Ishaan’s head said she’d shot him point blank. The hard look on her face as she turned around said it was without mercy.
“Goddess,” Zaanar murmured behind him. “She’s…”
“Mine,” Karryl growled, striding forward to haul her into his arms. She didn’t argue, embracing him fiercely.
“Shit, I thought you were dead,” she murmured, face tucked against his neck. Pulling back, she looked him in the eye. “I was going to take this fucking place apart.”
“So I see. I gather he upset you. Didn’t like his submissive comment, eh?” Karryl looked over her shoulder at the dead warrior. The sight inspired no pity. He’d never liked the F’Naar and so far they’d proven his suspicion correct.
Her lips quirked. “Something like that, yes.”
She stepped away, looking with interest at Zaanar. The warrior hadn’t taken his eyes off her, utter reverence on his face. Karryl hid his smile. The earth females were beguiling, none more so than his Jane.
“And who’s your little friend? I’m assuming he’s the reason you didn’t end up sucking cold space?”
“A very good question.” He hadn’t expected much in the way of hearts and flowers from his mate, but her pragmatism and the speed she reverted to warrior impressed even him. Turning, he studied Zaanar with a hard look. Sure, the male might have saved his life, but no Lathar did anything without an angle.
“Who are you? Because you’re sure as draanth no F’Naar.”
Zaanar opened his mouth to speak but Jane cut in, her eyes narrowing. “You’re Xaandril’s son, aren’t you?”
The younger warrior gasped. “How the fuck did you know?”
Karryl swore as recognition hit. It was all there, all the clues. The hair that was slightly lighter at the sides where dye couldn’t get a hold, the voice…hells, even the way he moved. He was the Champion’s issue through and through.
Jane arched her eyebrow. “A child could see through your disguise. Looks like your lot could take lessons from humans on spying. We’ve been doing it to each other for millennia, with great success.”
“Oh?” Zaanar seemed eager for any tidbit of information. “You are a spy?”
She laughed, checking her blaster before re-holstering it.
“Hell no, I’m a professional soldier, son. Live hard, die young, take out as many of the bastards as you can. Death or glory.” She winked. “What’s your name?”
“Xaandrynn…” He stood, feet shoulder width apart as he studied them carefully. Only an idiot would not have realized they were far more dangerous as a team than apart and that he was outgunned. “My friends call me Rynn.”
The sound of booted feet and shouts in the corridor outside drew all their attention. Karryl snatched his blaster, palming a blade at the same time. The F’Naar were going to be pissed that their leader was dead, and just as determined to take a female as a prize for whichever warrior emerged triumphant as their new leader.
“Well, Rynn. Looks like we need a ride for three off this ship,” he growled, moving to the side of the door, ready for action. “Shall we take a stroll down to the shuttle bay?”
*
The fight through the F’Naar ship was fast and furious. At first the two warriors tried to put themselves between Jane and the enemy but thanks to the sheer numbers they faced, that didn’t last long.
Her world became a maelstrom of laser bolts and hand-to-hand combat as they ripped through the opposition like a ball of razor wire. Blaster in hand, she used it with surgical precision to cut a swathe through the F’Naar. They fell before her, and those who didn’t, fell prey to Karryl’s or Rynn’s blades.
They reached the shuttle bay, fighting a fierce rear-guard action as another group of F’Naar followed.
“Get the engines started,” Karryl bellowed at Rynn as he took up position by the side of the hallway door. “Jane, get this thing closed.”
She scooted into cover as a volley of laser blasts peppered the air where she had been. One thing was sure, they might revere women but they sure as hell weren’t bothered about killing her now battle was joined. Obviously a case of if they couldn’t have her, no one could. Childish assholes.
Yanking the cover off the console, she looked in dismay at the control pad. Unlike the emperor’s shuttle with its AI enhanced control panels, this was all lines and squiggles.
“This makes no sense,” she yelled, ducking out of cover for a second to fire off a volley down the corridor. “You do it, I’ll cover!”
He nodded, and things happened fast, too fast for her to stop them. As he launched himself out of cover to the other side of the door, a warrior ducked around a corner down the corridor with what looked like a grenade launcher on his shoulder.
“Kaaaaarrrryyylll!” she yelled a warning, but it was too late. Time seemed to slow as the energy blast raced toward him. Throwing herself to the side, she tried to knock him out of the way but it was no good. It hit him in the shoulder and spun him. He slammed into the deck and lay motionless.
“Nononono!” she cried out, turning and firing at the door control panel. It exploded into a shower of sparks and the door slid shut on the warriors charging up the corridor. It wouldn’t hold them long.
Heart racing with fear and adrenaline, she skidded to her knees next to her fallen warrior. Instantly, she knew it wasn’t good. He looked terrible, his skin pale and the leather over his shoulder blackened and cracked. Blood and burned flesh visible through the gaps.
“Karryl? Talk to me,” she ordered, shoving two fingers into the side of his neck. There was a pulse. Relief left her lightheaded for a second.
He groaned, eyes flickering open. “Jane? Go…you have to go. Get out of here.”
“Without you? Not happening, handsome.” Standing, she pulled him up. “Come on, soldier. We’re hauling ass. We live or die together. You got that?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He chuckled and clambered unsteadily to his feet, then coughed.
It was weak and blood traced a thin line from the corner of his lips. Shit, that didn’t look good. She’d been on enough battlefields to know when a soldier was badly, badly injured. Panic hit her, wailing in the corner of her mind she banished it to.
“Good. As long as you realize who’s in charge, we’ll get along fine.” Sliding under his arm, she ignored the muffled blasts and shouting behind the shuttle bay doors and headed toward the ship. It was the longest walk she’d ever taken. She took as much of Karryl’s weight as she could, expecting the F’Naar to break through the door and shoot them in the back any second.
They didn’t, nor did Karryl collapse as she’d expected. He made it through the door before his legs gave out. They sprawled on the floor.
“We’re in, punch it!” she ordered Rynn, but he was way ahead of her. The engines roared, lifting them even as the shuttle door slid shut, sealing them safely inside.
She looked down as Karryl coughed, struggling for breath.
“Don’t you dare die on me, asshole. Or I’ll bring you back just so I can kill you myself, you hear me?” she promised, but he’d already slipped into unconsciousness.
“Hold on,” Rynn yelled over his shoulder. “This is going to be a rough ride.”
Unable to do anything else, she covered her fallen man and held on for both of them.
***
The journey back to Lathar Prime seemed like an eternity. Karryl didn’t regain consciousness, his skin deadly pale and his pulse growing more sluggish by the hour. Rynn, more familiar with the Latharian medkit and
its mobile single-body stasis unit, grew so silent that she had to look at him to reassure herself she wasn’t alone.
Through it all, she sat by Karryl’s side, stroking his hair back from his face until Rynn finally announced their approach to the Latharian home world. Now, less than an hour later, she felt even more useless as Laarn moved around a big diagnostic bed. Her unconscious warrior lay on it, still out for the count. He’d been stripped, his leather jacket cut from him to leave him naked to the waist, revealing the bloody and blackened mess of his shoulder.
The healer’s face was grim as he studied the blue arc over Karryl. It showed a diagram of the warrior’s body, red warning lines and lights all over it. A big scarlet area over his shoulder radiated lines outward, all reaching for his heart. More red surged through his veins, lights that represented his circulatory system flashing in warning.
As she watched, more and more alarms sounded. Laarn moved with the speed of a demon, altering settings and administering medication. Her hand stole up to her mouth. She didn’t need to be medically trained to know Karryl was barely hanging on. Nor did she need to be physic to realize that despite the fact they bickered all the time, Laarn really cared for his friend. It showed in his expression, in the tense set of his body as he fought to save Karryl’s life.
He had to get better. He would get better, she told herself. Latharian technology was much more advanced than humanity’s. What would kill a human was little more than a common cold for the Lathar. Surely?
Finally Laarn paused, gaze intent on the readouts as they stabilized. The red warnings had been flickering between red and amber. One by one, each turned to amber and held steady. She wrapped her arms around her waist, trying to hold her hope in check. She’d seen that look on the faces of medical staff before. It often preceded the words “don’t get your hopes up.”