Then, about three generations ago, the empire was torn apart by a vicious civil war. Humans lost all communication with the rest of their species, and remained at the mercy of the aliens occupying the same planet. The Kadrussians, ever reclusive and territorial, simply withdrew deeper into their clan lands. The Hilruda, though, had no mercy, and took advantage of the situation in a way no one predicted.
Zerek liked to think if he'd been alive before the Bitter Silence, he'd have intuited the Hilruda danger, but maybe the threat of technology, weapons, and troops from the human empire had enabled them to better hide their true nature.
"Are you done yet? You can play with yourself later." Impatient banging accompanied the words.
Zerek rolled his eyes. What was the world coming to, that a man couldn't take a piss in peace? True, he’d zoned out a bit, but sure as shit wasn’t rubbing one out after being kidnapped and locked in a box for the better part of three days. So, he finished up and exited the facilities.
His escort was no more gentle on the return to the group who waited for him.
They stood in silence for several long moments, long enough for Zerek to become aware of just how rank his clothes were. He needed to get this meeting moving along, because if he'd truly been rescued, they'd better be providing some fresh clothes and a bath.
He zeroed in on the big guy; no point in talking to underlings, after all. "Good job, sneaking into Stony Gate like that. Quite the feat. I applaud your men and your plan, but if your men had bothered listening to anything I said, they made a mistake."
"And what mistake would that be?" A flash of fang in the clan leader's mouth explained the heavier sibilance on the s. He'd heard stories about Kadrussians who were permanently fanged, but time would tell if they held any truth.
In any case, paying attention to the clan leader was no hardship. Big, sexy, and alluring in a way few men were, in Zerek’s opinion.
"I'm assuming this uncomfortable jaunt was meant to be a rescue attempt. I'm not Kadrussian." He paused for a moment to let them snort at his obvious joke. "I'm just a humble smuggler. Your men must have been after someone much more important."
Humble was a lie. He was a fucking awesome smuggler, recent incarceration notwithstanding, but he was still a nobody. Like most of the humans left to lick the boots of those mud licking Hilruda.
Another negligent wave of the Kadrussian's hand sent his three rescuers/captors out of the room. Zerek couldn't tell if the remaining four bystanders were bodyguards, advisors, or merely disinterested observers.
"Have a seat. Would you like something to eat or drink?"
"Really? A greeting ritual?" Zerek huffed in exasperation, but his stomach snarled in protest. "Fine. Yes, thank you."
Good thing the big guy was hot, or Zerek would be even more pissed at this delay. He scratched at his chest, the itch something he could no longer ignore and grimaced. Any minute now he'd drop to his knees and beg for a bath. He was amazed any of them could stand to be in the same room as him. Zerek could hardly stand himself and he was stuck in his own skin.
Zerek followed the leader to a table in the corner by a window. A quick glance outside only confirmed they were fucking far from Stony Gate, three days' journey to be precise. They were high up, but there was only greenery and mountains as far as the eye could see. Any landmarks he'd use to determine location would be at ground level, under the canopy of trees. It ruled out the territory of at least three Kadrussian clans, who lived underground, but there were seven or eight others that held territory like this.
The leader took the chair in the corner, giving him sight lines for the entire room. With a curl of his lip, Zerek took the other chair. He did not enjoy exposing his back, but he wasn't the one making the rules here. Concessions needed to be made, and unfortunately, he'd be the one making them. Zerek sat and waited without saying a word.
* * * *
REFRESHMENTS ARRIVED with surprising swiftness, and the other clan members melted away. They were still in the room, giving credence to the bodyguard theory, but far enough away that they couldn't hear conversation at the table. Not unless he or the clan leader chose to shout.
His last shred of politeness dissolved in the face of refreshments that weren't trail rations or moldy prison food. He fell on the beautifully displayed finger foods like a ravening beast.
The clan leader allowed him to stuff his face until he finally took a breath to swallow and savor.
"My name is Essian."
Zerek choked and coughed, crumbs flying. He knew who Essian was. Leader of the only clan whose name literally translated to "snake", and often he was referred to as The Snake in a fearful manner. The clans generally kept to themselves, and ruled as autonomous states, but if the Kadrussians had a royal line, the crown prince sat before him. But to genuflect or anything else was out of the question. He'd done enough of that under Hilruda control; he'd become a smuggler to avoid that shit. He'd faced the pit despite his fears; no way was he letting The Snake see any fear.
"Pleased to meet you, I'm Brandos." Zerek hoped his exaggerated air of boredom and fake name fooled Essian.
Essian let out a lilting hiss, a Kadrussian's version of laughing. Nope. The Snake saw through him. Which Zerek found enticing when he should have been apprehensive.
"Do not lie to me, Zerek. It does not become you."
Zerek raised an eyebrow. "I'm a smuggler. I lie for a living. And what makes you think I'm this Zerek fellow?"
An intent stare from golden eyes was Essian's only response. Zerek shrugged. It was worth a try, but his curiosity nagged. If Essian knew who he was, he'd had his men break into Stony Gate for the express purpose of extracting him. Perhaps one day, Zerek would appreciate that, but that would depend on why.
"What am I doing here?" The view out the window made more sense, now that he knew he was in Serpentes territory. Those three minions had made good time, especially with him as a burden.
Essian waited, and Zerek stared. Essian had gorgeous coloring, some of the most attractive he'd seen on a Kadrussian. Various shades of bronze and copper, threaded with gold, formed patterns that blended and wove over his skin. In the sunlight, all of his exposed skin had a faint metallic gloss, and if he'd come across Essian under any other circumstances, he'd have reached out and touched.
The man was broad, muscular, and had an air about him that made Zerek want to puff up his chest. Sometimes, Zerek wondered if there was an explanation for the fact that three vastly different species evolved similar builds and forms, but if that information ever existed, it was probably long gone after the Bitter Silence. His grandfather, who'd been a biologist before the Bitter Silence, had tried to share his knowledge with Zerek, but he'd been too young to understand. After his grandfather's death, there was no more time for stories and abstract concepts. Survival had ruled, now Zerek was a simple smuggler with no theories of his own.
Nevertheless, he found the Kadrussians, this one more so than any other, far more attractive than the cadaverous Hilruda. Information he intended to keep to himself, as was only prudent. Whatever Essian wanted, Zerek didn't want to undermine his position.
Essian flicked out a bifurcated tongue, scenting the air briefly before tucking it back into his mouth. Again, Zerek caught another flash of fang, supposedly a physical manifestation of virility and power. He could well believe it. According to his sources, the fangs only dropped during battle or mating. Given Essian's relaxed appearance, Zerek could only assume the fangs were permanent, as he didn't seem poised to kill or fuck anyone just now.
And if the thought of Essian demonstrating some of that virility right now, well...Zerek shifted and got another whiff of his noxious scent. Maybe no virility demonstrations until he'd scrubbed a layer or twelve off his skin and wouldn't be too humiliated to participate. Or, until he’d rested enough to get an erection. If he wasn’t so exhausted, he’d already be chubbing up, given how much he wanted to lick Essian’s bronzed skin.
It didn't escape hi
s attention that Essian hadn't made any effort to answer his question, but volunteering information wasn't in his temperament or job description, so Zerek was content to eat and stare at his incredibly attractive host.
Finally, the food was gone and Zerek wanted a bath and a change of clothes far more than he wanted to play this game with Essian.
"Even if I was Zerek, I'm still a smuggler. I'm nothing. I never deal directly with clan leaders. Why did you bring me here?"
Kadrussians didn't have any body hair—another trait they shared with the reptiles people so often compared them to, so Essian couldn't raise an eyebrow, but there was no mistaking his smug expression. Zerek replayed his words and scowled. He must be in worse shape than he'd realized, because he'd as good as admitted he was indeed Zerek, as well as knowing Essian was a clan leader.
"As it happens, I'm in need of a smuggler."
"What? Why?" Zerek had deals and relationships with a number of Kadrussians, they were part of his vast network, but this didn't make any sense.
"The Hilruda have become a menace that needs to be dealt with."
Zerek touched his head where a small knot still lay under the skin from his concussion a few days earlier. It had scrambled his brains good, and was improving with a distressing lack of speed.
"Need to be dealt with?" Anger chased away his confusion. "They've effectively turned my people into fucking slaves in less than a hundred years. And my people were space travelers. Why are you just figuring this out now? Why didn't you help us?"
Essian shrugged. "Many reasons. Our clans are... insular, isolated even from each other. The leaders often rely on tradition to govern, but our traditions didn't change with the appearance of your people on this planet, and likewise didn't change when your people were left without support from your empire, vulnerable to the Hilruda."
Zerek thumped a fist on the table.
"Why the fuck do you think I smuggle in the first place? I don't just smuggle goods, you know. I try to get as many people out of Hilruda hands as I can. I know what the stakes are, but I'm one man. I'm a fucking criminal, a fucking good one." He also had more pride than was good for him. "But I'm one man trying to stop the planet from turning."
Movement from the corner of his eye showed the bodyguards—which he'd foolishly forgotten about—take a few steps toward the table. With some effort, Zerek projected calm, even if fury still seethed in his heart.
"Our clan leaders thought the Hilruda would be content with dominion over humankind, but they grow greedy and encroach on our territory more each year. They ignore treaties where they can, and they flout our laws and customs just shy of the point of a declaration of war. Probably because they don't know our numbers, but I do."
Zerek wondered at the inflection Essian put on "clan leaders". He recalled Essian had only been clan leader a few months, since the recent death of his father, and he wondered if the odd emphasis meant Essian didn't yet feel like a clan leader, or if he'd disagreed with their stance on the Hilruda matter.
"And? Do you outnumber them?"
Silence reigned for several moments, and Zerek had his answer. Essian was in an unenviable position. The Kadrussians had watched in silence while a once proud and accomplished people had been ground into paste under the withered foot of the Hilruda, and Essian knew the Kadrussians were next.
"Anyway, that doesn't explain why you went to such lengths to break me out of Stony Gate. I was planning to escape." Eventually. "Can't run a smuggling ring from inside that place."
This time, Essian's expression reminded him of an old wise man, exasperated by a youngster's naivety–despite the fact that Zerek was probably only a year or two younger than Essian.
"You don't understand,” Essian continued. “Your people call the Hilruda leeches and vampires, but those epithets have more truth than you realize. They feed on the energy of living things. In the pit, the fighters generate huge amounts of energy."
Zerek's eyes widened as the reason for the pit fights, and even the way the prisoners were treated, became clear.
The clan leader wasn't finished, though. "Yes, the Hilruda feed on the emotion you expend in the ring. Feed on the high of the spectators too, but for non-Hilruda, they take something from you each time. It weakens you, diminishes you. Takes a long time to recover, but if you lose too much energy or too often, there is no recovery. It's the reason no one lasts long in Stony Gate. You lose too many times, and you'll end up a dead husk. But it's inevitable that you'll lose, because each time you fight, win or lose, they take a little more of your life force."
Nausea boiled in his gut, making him regret how much he'd eaten. No wonder he was in such rough shape. He'd assumed it had been an unfortunate reaction to the sedative, but it was a reaction to—he gagged slightly—feeding the Hilruda.
Gulping at the fruit juice remaining in his cup, he tried to calm his roiling stomach. That information put a new spin on the pit fighting prohibition against killing one's opponent. Zerek had been so relieved. Taking someone's life wasn't easy, and he'd been worried he'd have to kill to survive. A tiny sliver of him had applauded their fucking mercy. It wasn't mercy at all—it was food rationing. Those putrid turd swallowers.
"So, what's your plan?" Essian had to have one. It was the only explanation for Zerek's presence.
"As I said, I need a smuggler."
"What are we smuggling?"
"Me."
Cryptic. And somehow the sexy bastard knew that his answer would tweak Zerek's curiosity. Too bad he was fading fast. Exhaustion rarely won out over his willpower—yet another indignity he could lay at the Hilruda's door.
"I don't see any bags. Do these plans involve leaving in the next twelve hours?"
"Supplies are prepared, but tomorrow or the next day will be soon enough."
Good. If he was smuggling Essian anywhere, he'd have plenty of time to ferret out the whys and wherefores.
"Not sure how we'll figure out a percentage of you." Zerek had a couple of ideas he wouldn't mind testing out, though. "But I'm sure we can come to an agreement about a fair and reasonable fee."
"Gratitude for the rescue isn't enough?" Essian flashed his fang again, but it didn't faze Zerek. Biting Zerek wouldn't get Essian any closer to his goal, since Kadrussian venom would either kill Zerek or put him out of commission for a very long time.
"Gratitude doesn't buy food or shelter." Zerek wasn't going to push the issue. Gratitude for his rescue wasn't reason enough, but having an important clan leader in his debt might be worth more than gems. "I'm in. On one condition. You send your men back to Stony Gate and get my crew out of there." He wasn't going to let them rot in there any longer than he had to, especially now that he knew what they'd have to endure. And for each fight they were in, Zerek was going to break one of Gress's bones as payback for his betrayal. Once this job for Essian was complete, Zerek wasn't going to rest until he tracked down Gress.
"Your crew wasn't captured. Only you were."
"Are you sure? One of the other prisoners said he'd heard some of the guards talking about it." And that pit whore of an announcer had used his crew as leverage, but telling Essian that would be like exposing his vulnerable belly to a predator.
Essian shook his head. "Lies. Or misinformation."
"How would you know?"
"We rescued you from the heart of Hilruda territory, in one of their most heavily guarded buildings less than two days after your sentencing. I think you can trust my sources."
Cracking his knuckles, Zerek considered that. Leaving his crew hung out to dry was unacceptable, but there was a certain logic to Essian's statement. And he was a three days' journey from Stony Gate as it was. Trust he would, for now.
"Then have your men deliver a message." If they truly hadn't been captured, he had to warn them about Gress.
"That I can do. Shall we make plans?"
Plans would be smart, and under normal circumstances, Zerek would never have agreed to do a job like this before knowing the ful
l details of what was expected. But the very real possibility he was about to collapse in front of this powerful, and unfortunately attractive, clan leader superseded his normal caution. If it turned out later that Essian wasn't bargaining in good faith, well, he'd worry about that later. Zerek stood on legs that wobbled slightly.
"Nope. Have someone show me to a bedchamber. I need a bath, fresh clothes, and sleep before we start making plans."
* * * *
THE NEXT MORNING, ZEREK emerged from a bed chamber that had been surprisingly well-appointed, considering his complete lack of clan status.
But he was washed and wearing comfortable clothes that weren't soaked in blood. As for being well-rested, he was close. Essian must have been telling the truth about the Hilruda draining him, because weakness and fatigue lingered like an unwelcome house guest.
A few steps down the hall stood another guard, a reminder that Zerek wasn't a trusted member of the household. Zerek didn't blame them a bit; he wouldn't trust him either.
"You. Where's Essian?"
The guard snarled at Zerek's imperious tone, but beckoned for him to follow. Zerek didn't care—at all—what anyone thought of his attitude. He'd made a career of giving the finger to the Hilruda. A clan leader like Essian might be impressive, but Zerek wasn't bowing to anyone. Humans had done more than their fair share of that since the Bitter Silence.
When they stopped, it was outside a different chamber than the cavernous reception room from the previous day. He was forced to wait several minutes while a few guards conversed in hissing, spitting undertones.
Stifling the temptation to just barrel through the door, since he wasn't a threat to Essian, he tapped his foot as he waited. Avoiding the authorities required infinite patience, but Zerek wasn't in the middle of a job yet, and his patience was entirely reserved for work.
"Can we get this done already? We're wasting hours here." Depending on the scope of the job and what Essian deemed appropriate as supplies, they'd likely be able to get going today.
Come Undone: Romance Stories Inspired by the Music of Duran Duran Page 43