by Myla Jackson
Mayla slipped the diaphanous costume over her skin and waited by the door. The outfit consisted of a sheer, dark purple bra, suspended by sequined straps and equally sheer matching pantaloons attached to sequined straps around her waist and ankles.
“Ummmm.” Khetan nuzzled her neck. “You look good enough to eat.”
Her gaze raked over the black, full-sleeved blouse and matching leather pants that fit his body like a second skin. “And you’re a handsome pirate.”
“So, have you decided to trust me?”
“For now, I have to. Don’t make me regret it.”
“I love a strong woman.” He growled and nibbled the rosy tip of her breast throw the filmy material.
Mayla’s head dropped back and she clutched his head to her. “Keep it up and the Durakee will have to come carry us off the ship.” Her leg slid along his, cupping around his thigh to pull him tight against her pelvis.
His hot prick throbbed inside the confines of his trousers, urging to be released. He pushed her away from him, regret shadowing his eyes.
Mayla pouted, but she assumed a warrior’s stance. “Once we distract the Durakee, how do we overpower them? I couldn’t possibly hide a weapon in this garment.”
Khetan chuckled, his gaze running over every inch he could see of her body. “I have my men hiding weapons in the boxes of booze we’re taking with us.”
“But won’t their scanners detect them?”
“No, these are knives made of the same material as the containers and they appear to be handles.”
“Excellent. Now I need to talk to the rest of my people and prepare them for our surprise.”
“Here, give them these.” He tossed a wad of outfits similar in style to the one Mayla wore but in varying shades representing every color of the rainbow.
“Where did you get these?”
“You keep calling me a pirate, consider them spoils of a prior war.” Khetan pressed the control and the door slid open. Outside, stood two large Durakee soldiers, both armed and ugly.
Mayla stepped forward, her shoulders thrown back, her breasts clearly visible through the almost non-existent outfit. She smiled and batted her eyes. “Well, gentlemen, aren’t you going to escort me to my people? We have a party to go attend.”
Khetan smiled when their jaws dropped and their mouths hung slack, drool dripping from the corners. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll check on the refreshments. I’ll see you in the cargo bay.”
Mayla’s eyebrows drew together and her smile slipped a little. She felt bereft of her strength. Khetan had become her rock, her shoulder to lean on. Deep in her gut, she realized he told her the truth. He hadn’t gone along with the Durakee willingly and she should trust him to help her free her people.
Her body leaned in his direction for a moment, then her spine straightened and she looked back at the guards. “Please, take me to the other women.”
Without a backward glance, she marched away from him toward the room where the rest of the Shandalans waited.
CHAPTER NINE
Mayla stopped at the door to the crew’s quarters. When the guard opened it, she stepped into the room and turned around.
The four Durakee stumbled to a halt, almost knocking her over.
She smothered a grin. Apparently, like any red-blooded male of the human species, the flash of her naked ass through the sheer fabric plus the emissions of the Effect had them completely focused. “We’ll be ready in a moment. Wait here.”
They didn’t look too pleased, but they responded to the command in her voice and stood back to allow the door to close between them.
With the guards shut out, she turned. The group of Shandalan women surged forward, all talking at once, worry evident in their faces and rising voices.
Mayla raised her hand for silence. “People of Shandal, rest assured, we are not going to become slaves to the Durakee. I swear upon my last breath, I will die fighting before I let even one of you bow to them.”
“But how will you save us?”
“We have no weapons.”
“They outnumber us.”
“What of the others?”
Mayla raised her hand again to stem the flow of fear. Though the plan appeared flimsy, she refused to display any signs of weakness or doubt. “Look what we have been through already. We are strong. We will prevail. Gather close, for this is the plan...”
* * * * *
Khetan shuttled to the Durakee ship ahead of the princess and her entourage under the pretext of delivering food and alcohol for the Durakee celebration.
While Brack and his men unloaded the supplies for the party, Khetan was escorted to the large room where the celebration was to be held. He didn’t see any sign of the other Shandalans or of Max and the shuttle pilot.
Trekar stood at the center of the preparations. His hands were tucked into the sleeves of his robes as he spoke to a Durakee guard. When Khetan approached, the ambassador turned with a decidedly superior smirk on his face.
Khetan pasted on a smile. He would play along for the sake of appearances, but as soon as he got the opportunity, he’d slit this scum of the universe from ear to ear.
“So, you’ve come to collect your payment, have you?” Trekar removed his hands from his sleeves and clapped sharply. A skinny man joined them from his position near the door. “Ferani, pay the captain his money. He’s served us well in recovering our precious cargo.”
Khetan ground his teeth but forced his smile to remain intact. Though it went against every grain of truth and honesty in his body, he held out his hand while Ferani counted out dakas from a bag attached to his scrawny waist. Money for people. If he weren’t playing a part, he’d cram the money down Trekar’s throat.
When the Durakee accountant finished, Khetan pocketed the coins without counting. “I’m glad you’re satisfied. My men risked grave danger to retrieve the Shandalans. Speaking of which. What has become of the other shuttle? I had three of my men on board. I expected them to be here.”
“Aw, yes. Sadly, they are being detained. For some strange reason they didn’t want to give up their hold on our guests. Especially the one called Max. He had his heart set on a dark-haired pretty.”
Khetan’s eyes narrowed and he took a step toward the ambassador. “You haven’t harmed my men have you?”
Trekar waved a hand in dismissal. “Nothing a little rest won’t cure. My men may have been a bit heavy-handed, but yours will survive. You can have them back as soon as we’re ready to leave.”
Khetan’s anger simmered below the surface, but he forced his voice to an unconcerned conversational tone. “What of the other Shandalans? Are you keeping them locked up as well?”
Trekar’s smiled, his lips curling like a snake’s tail. “They are awaiting the princess in a chamber down the hallway. We will leave tomorrow, but tonight I wish to be entertained by my guests.”
Khetan’s rage built to a dull roar pounding in his ears. He’d never condoned trading in human flesh. That Trekar was so eager about his business, turned Khetan’s stomach. Slitting this man’s throat would be too kind. Perhaps, Khetan would let Mayla slit the Durakee ambassador’s throat. A slow grin tipped his lips upward. “Could I be shown to the room where the other Shandalans are located? I have special clothing for them I’d like to deliver.”
“Give them to the guards.”
“And deny me the pleasure of gifting them with such delightful party outfits sure to please you and them alike? I wouldn’t hear of it.”
The ambassador tipped his head back and looked down his nose at Khetan. Finally, he shrugged. “Very well.” He waved his hand at a nearby guard and commanded, “Escort the good captain to the Shandalan chamber.”
Khetan retrieved a box of clothing Brack had delivered and followed the guard down the hallway. When he approached, the four guards standing outside a closed door formed an intimidating wall of flesh blocking his path.
“Trekar has asked that the ladies join the party properly attired. You’re to esco
rt them as soon as they’re dressed.” Khetan lifted a gossamer outfit off the pile and dangled a filmy bra for the guards to see. “I’m here to deliver their party clothes.”
A guard made a grab for the bra. “Give me that.”
“Uh, uh.” Khetan swung the bra out of reach and leaned back to stare up into the meanest, ugly face he’d ever had the displeasure to gaze at in a long while. He tamped down a niggling doubt and waved a finger at the guard. “Trekar sent strict instructions to deliver the women untouched. He wants to celebrate with them first.”
Several grunts, snorts and muffled curses indicated the guards’ not so flattering opinion of their leader.
“Now, do I deliver these or are you going to explain to Trekar why the women weren’t dressed their best?”
The wall of muscle parted. When the Durakee guard opened the door, Khetan slipped inside. The whoosh of the door closing behind him echoed his relief. He was in.
Ridha marched forward. “What do you want, traitor?” she asked, her eyes shooting sparks of anger.
The other women closed in on him, their faces set in fierce frowns. They wanted blood. His blood.
Sweat popped out on his forehead. More intimidated by these women than the hulking guards, he stepped backward.
Ridha pressed closer, her face mere inches from his. “Where’s Princess Mayla and the others? Tell us, or we’ll kill you.” She poked him in the chest. “Hell, we might kill you anyway.”
“The princess is on her way with the rest of the Shandalans from the second shuttle. Are you all here? Anybody hurt?” Khetan scanned the faces in the crowd, noticing a few missing faces. “Where’s Sinsal?”
“Why do you care? You’re just another slave trader as far as we’re concerned.”
He grabbed Ridha’s shoulders. “Look, we don’t have time to argue.”
She wiggled to escape his grip, but Khetan held firm. Finally, she answered, “They took five of the women away. We don’t know where. You’ll die for this. You and the Durakee will die.”
He shook his head and dropped his hands to his side. “Before you kill me, listen to what I have to say.”
Khetan outlined the plan. Outnumbered two to one, his crew and the Shandalan’s would have to play this scheme carefully or they might all die.
“Are you in or not?”
Ridha chewed her lip for several seconds and then nodded. “We’re in.”
* * * * *
Mayla held her head high as she stepped from the shuttle ramp onto the Durakee ship. She strove to portray confidence and no indication she knew the Durakee’s true intent. Inside, she shook with fear for her people and anger at Khetan for leaving her to face this situation alone.
In the past couple of days, she’d come to rely on his presence. A false sense of strength and security, no doubt. When she arrived in the cargo bay and learned the other shuttle had gone ahead with Khetan aboard, she fought the urge to turn and run from the Durakee guards.
On board the enemy ship, completely committed to saving her people, she squared her shoulders and marched forward to greet Trekar.
Mayla bowed and straightened, flicking her hair over her shoulders to allow him full view of her breasts through the fabric of her bra. “Ambassador Trekar, I beg your indulgence. My people are most grateful for the Durakee’s assistance in our efforts to relocate.”
The ambassador practically preened at her words.
“In appreciation,” she continued, “we’d like a few moments alone to prepare a special surprise for our benefactors.” Mayla almost choked on her words. She’d rather slit his throat than be diplomatic with him. Patience. His time will come.
Trekar obviously thrived on pomp and ceremony, judging from the way he strutted around in regal robes and manners. But he was still a man. A man drooling over the view of a woman’s breasts presented blatantly for his inspection.
Mayla smiled, tamped down the bile in her stomach and slid around Trekar, pressing her breasts to his arm. She headed for the door. “The women who’ve just arrived will see to final preparations for the celebration.” She trailed a hand over his shoulder and, forcing her voice deeper, she whispered, “I’ll see you later.”
By the strained look on the arrogant Durakee’s face, she had him right where she wanted him--the balls. Good. The plan progressed on its way to success.
Durakee guards fought over the honor of escorting her to the large room where the rest of her people were held. When she entered, she gasped. Judging by the colorful outfits similar to hers, Khetan had already visited.
Mayla smiled and relaxed a little. Despite leaving her to shuttle across without him, Khetan stayed two steps ahead of the plan.
“I see the captain of the Condor has influenced our leader,” Ridha said, a sly smile lifting her lips.
Mayla blushed, resisting the urge to cover her breasts. If she were honest with herself, the garments weren’t what made her feel exposed. Her blossoming attraction for an inappropriate male left her vulnerable. Not a good frame of mind to go into battle. She stared around the room and noticed a few missing faces.
“Where’s Sinsal?”
Ridha’s face reflected a mixture of sorrow and anger. “The guards took five of our women. We don’t know where.”
Mayla’s lips tightened. The Durakee would pay for what they’d done to her people. If she had to pay them with her dying breath, so be it. “Khetan briefed you?”
Ridha nodded. “All is ready. Should we trust him?”
Mayla starred into Ridha’s eyes and nodded slowly. “We don’t have much of a choice. We’re at his crew’s mercy if we hope to get out of this alive.”
Ridha’s lips twisted into a wry grin. “I was afraid of that.”
Mayla laid a hand on her shoulder. “First we deal with the Durakee. If we need to, we can take care of the crew of the Condor, later.” She just hoped she never had to. With all her heart, Mayla wanted to trust Khetan. Pushing aside her doubts, Mayla squared her shoulders. “Come ladies, we have a party to attend.”
* * * * *
A headache formed in Khetan’s temple--a combination of loud music and stress. Seated at the head table in an honorary position next to Trekar, Khetan glanced around the room for the hundredth time.
Strategically scattered among the Durakee, the crew of the Condor orchestrated a great show of enjoying themselves while plying liquor on Trekar’s unsuspecting crew and troops. Laughter and loud male voices intermingled with the soft, feminine sound of the beautiful Shandalan women who had arrived on the latest shuttle. The scantily clad ladies moved through the crowd of men, teasing and flaunting their semi-nude bodies.
When a Durakee soldier got too familiar with one of the women, she would playfully slap his hands and dance away. Khetan had given them strict instructions to tease and keep their distance to enhance anticipation and promote carelessness.
So far, the men played right into their hands. Khetan could sense the Shandalan Effect filling the room. Familiar with its strength, he focused on remaining immune. Only one woman had the power to make him forget everything and she wasn’t...
A hush descended over the room, leaving only the sound of the music. Khetan glanced toward the corridor and almost fell out of his chair.
Mayla paused at the entrance, the other half of the Shandalan refugees crowded behind her. She stood with her hands crossed over her chest, covering her breasts. Her blond hair flowed long and wavy about her shoulders.
Khetan had never seen anyone more completely captivating. She stared straight at him, her eyes half-closed, her lips full and pouty.
The music changed to a slow, sultry beat. A half-smile slid up one side of Mayla’s face. She cocked an eyebrow and winked. Her hands unfolded and she raised her arms above her head, swaying her hips from side to side. Every luscious curve of her body glowed through the sheer purple fabric. Her rose-tipped breasts puckered beneath the gauzy material.
Khetan’s groin tightened and his mouth watered with t
he need to latch on and suck until she writhed against him and screamed out his name. By the stars! She was lethal to his concentration.
He dragged his gaze away from her to glance at Trekar. He almost laughed at the Durakee’s slack-jawed stare, except for the anger surging through his veins over the raw lust in the other man’s face.
Mayla was his. Not Trekar’s.
Khetan narrowed his eyes, rage building at an alarming rate. He had the overpowering urge to smash Trekar’s thin face into pulp. Halfway out of his chair, he returned to his senses.
The Effect. Mayla only had to be in the room for two seconds, and the Effect latched onto his balls and jerked him into action. Either he had to make love to Mayla, or he’d kill someone. Preferably Trekar.
A slow smile spread across the Durakee’s face, his gaze intent on the woman across the room.
Khetan’s attention returned to the princess. She’d danced out to the middle of the cleared floor swaying to the music. Her body undulated and twirled, increasing speed in time with the beat. She represented every male fantasy of the harem dancers of days long past on Earth.
The tempo swelled and Mayla closed the distance to the head table where Khetan and Trekar sat. She swayed and pivoted, her hands running up her body and back into the air. She leaned over the head table, her breasts within inches of Trekar.
The Durakee reached out to touch.
But Mayla danced away, her pearly white buttocks moving in tight circular motions. She glanced back over her shoulder and winked.
Khetan shifted in his seat, sweat breaking out on his upper lip. He grabbed the glass of wine he’d been nursing and downed it in one gulp. The potent liquid did nothing to quench his thirst. His thirst could only be quenched by sinking deep into the Shandalan siren flaunting her beauty for all to see and drool over.
Khetan’s foot tapped an impatient tattoo, ready for the entire ordeal to be over. He’d much prefer an outright battle than the suspense of a sneak attack. At least he’d be able to give Trekar what he so well deserved for ogling Mayla as if he owned her. The man was practically licking his lips in anticipation.