by Lynn Best
She felt chilled to the bone as she thought about it. Would Han simply destroy everyone?
“He’s hailing us,” Wrek said, turning to Tork.
He frowned. “Put the bastard on.”
Wrek raised an eyebrow, but Tork insisted. “Do it. I want to talk to him.”
“What will Drake say?”
“Do it!” Tork ordered.
The large blank wall at the front of the room suddenly turned into a screen. Han’s face appeared. Boy, did he seem pissed.
“Han,” Tork said, stepping up with his hands casually behind his back. “Nice of you to call, cousin. It’s been, what? Ten years.”
“Save the bullshit,” Han fumed. “How dare you attack our ship and transport one of our own off-board.”
“To be technical,” Wrek said, stepping beside Tork, “she was not one of your own. As a human, she has no laws governing her removal.”
“You know what I mean,” Han said through his teeth. “You cannot beam anyone off our ship. There are laws forbidding unlawful removal.”
Wrek clammed up fast, but Tork continued. “You abducted her from Earth. We abducted her from you. Seems pretty even, don’t you think?”
“No!” Han banged his fist on something off screen. “You had no right. I am king—”
“Will be king,” Tork said, cutting him off, “when the little tyke arrives. And how is your mate? Under the weather, I hear.”
“Don’t you dare talk about Charis. I know this abduction had something to do with her.”
Tork’s expression was one of mock innocence. “I have no idea what you mean.”
“Enough of this. Where is Drake? I want to speak to him. Now.”
Tork shrugged. “Drake is busy. He has better things to do.”
“Tell him he better find time to talk to me or these little warning shots,” he jabbed his finger angrily in their direction, “are just the tip of the iceberg.” He gazed around. “Where is she?”
“Who?” Tork asked, studying his nails like this whole thing bored him.
“Where is Brandy?”
“Oh, her. She’s around here somewhere.”
“I’m here,” Brandy said, running forward. “Han, how is Charis? Is she okay?”
Wrek’s eyes went wide as he saw Brandy.
Tork shot him a dirty look before adopting his used-car salesman smile. “See? Here she is. Right as rain. She says she prefers it here. Now she knows what real Cartharians can do.”
Han ignored the jab as he scrutinized Brandy. “Are you all right? Charis was so worried. As was Rahan. He’s insisting we kill everyone on the ship as retribution.”
They cared. They really did miss her. “I’m okay. When are you going to come and get me?”
“Very soon,” he said, but his expression tightened. She’d seen enough men lie to know when she was being duped. His eyes darted to Tork. “Let her go. I don’t want there to be bloodshed.”
Tork smirked. “You’re willing to spill blood—lots of your own people’s blood—for a human female?”
“Thanks a lot,” Brandy mumbled.
Tork ignored her. “You know what dealing with Drake is like. He’ll want to kill all of you. Even if you do beat us, what is the cost to your ship? To your fragile and pregnant wife?”
Han’s eyes narrowed. “I won’t leave Brandy there to die.”
Wrek stepped up. “What if we can convince her to stay?”
Everyone turned to him.
“What?” Brandy asked.
“Hear me out. What if we woo Brandy, much like you do your human females? We show her how good it might be to belong to one of us and then when you check on her next, she tells you she wants to stay.”
Han shook his head angrily. “I could never believe what she said. You could be forcing her.”
“We’d allow her to transport back to your ship then. And only willingly would she return here.”
“Wrek,” Tork said, alarmed. “Drake will kill you.”
“He won’t if she agrees to stay.” Wrek flashed a smile at Brandy.
Han pointed a finger at Wrek. “That right there. You’re guilting her. You are making her feel like she has to stay, or Drake will do something bad to you.”
“We’ll get Drake to sign a writ saying he won’t harm anyone. He’ll sign in blood to make it binding and that will be that.” Wrek sounded pleased with himself, but Tork was glowering.
Han waved his hand at someone behind him, signaling. “Send me the writ with Drake’s blood on it. I’ll give you an hour.” The commlink clicked off. Han was gone.
Brandy felt uneasy. The men on this ship were going to woo her and try to convince her to stay? That sounded nice, but was it all a big trick? Something to keep Han quiet while they came up with a more devious plan?
Tork whirled and gave Wrek a smack on the arm. “What in the hell were you thinking?”
Instead of cowering, Wrek stood his ground. “It stopped the torpedoes, right?”
“For now!” Tork roared. “Wait until Drake is up and able. He’ll use you as a torpedo to start the fight back up. He’ll never go for this, and you know it.”
“Do I? What would be better than one of us finding a mate who is biologically compatible? Drake wants to repopulate with her. With offspring, he can take a higher place in the hierarchy.”
“But that means giving Brandy to Drake. Exactly what he’s already demanded.” Tork eyed her. She tried to read the expression on his face, but was unable to before he turned away.
“What if I don’t want to be owned by Drake?” she asked.
“That’s the beauty of it,” Wrek said, growing excited. “Now, you’d get to pick. You could pick one of us or none of us. You have all the power.”
Tork rolled his eyes. “Drake will love that. It’s his favorite thing to have to deflect to a human female.” The sarcasm was thick. “Gods, you and you’re scheming. When are you going to learn?”
“What do you think, Brandy?” Wrek asked.
“I don’t know.” It sounded good, but was it some sort of trick? She was not smart enough to figure out what the scam might be.
“It doesn’t matter what she thinks,” Tork said, interrupting. “Wrek, you are not hearing me. There is no way Drake will go for this.”
“There’s no way I’ll go for what?”
All three of them whirled.
Drake stood in the doorway, appearing shrunken, bruised, and battered, but he was standing unassisted. All the aliens turned and did some gesture that seemed like a solute. Brandy glanced at Wrek. His eyes were gigantic. Fear rolled off him in waves.
Tork stepped forward, adopting his devil-may-care-attitude. “They pieced you back together, eh? I thought you were done in for sure.”
Drake narrowed his eyes, surveying the scene. “What’s going on here? I thought we were under attack.”
“We were,” Tork said, clapping his hands together and rubbing them. “But Junior over there talked Han down. He got him to stop firing.”
Drake’s gaze snapped to Wrek. “How did you do that?”
Wrek opened his mouth to answer, but Tork cut him off. “He reminded him we still have a hostage Han cares about. What good would blowing us up be if he destroyed Brandy over there?”
“He cares about her?” Drake said, surprised.
She huffed, taking offense at his tone. When she opened her mouth to speak, Tork beat her to it.
“Of course. Brandy is a precious commodity, a superior human female guaranteed to carry Cartharian young. One of the best of her planet. Why would anyone not care about that?”
Drake’s gaze landed on her and stuck. “She’s superior?”
“Of course she is,” Wrek piped up. “Why else would Han have had her?”
Brandy smiled, trying not to let her face betray her. She was not superior, just ordinary, and she was pretty sure she wasn’t even able to carry Cartharian young.
She bit her lip and endured Drake’s stare.
“Send her to my quarters. Let me know if Han tries to do anything. If he scratches his ass, I want to know about it.”
Drake turned, walking as if he were trying to hide a limp.
Brandy whirled toward the two men watching their older brother leave. “He said to have me sent to his quarters!” she mouthed, raw nerves making her feel sick. Alone with Drake? He was so mean.
Wrek and Tork exchanged a look. Tork, of course, was the one to speak. “Well, sweetheart, it’s time to see which of Wrek’s hairbrained schemes is going to pan out. Either that, or we’ll all be pushed out of the airlock.”
8
Brandy was trembling as Tork and Wrek escorted her to Drake’s room. Why did it feel like they were sending her to her execution? Whatever happened to her being wooed and convinced to stay? All of this felt like the opposite. She couldn’t wait to leave.
The last time she’d seen Drake, he was sacrificing her to criminals to be used as a sex toy. Now that he knew she was valuable to Han, he wanted her, but she had no desire for him. Her demise had seemed imminent, but since Han was now threatening to blow up the ship to save her—an idea that didn’t sound that great, but at least he cared—her hope was making her selfish. She wanted off the ship, and she wanted it now.
Well, to be fair, she kind of wanted Tork again, but that was a bad idea. He would be nothing but trouble. And Wrek was sweet. She wouldn’t mind hanging out with him and getting to know him better. It was Drake she wanted nothing to do with. And it was Drake she would be forced to see.
Why were the jerks the ones she always ended up with?
Her escorts stopped in front of a wall before facing her. Wrek seemed genuinely sorry for her. Tork seemed annoyed.
“He’s in there?” she asked, her hands shaking. There had only been a few times in her life as an escort that she’d been scared for her life. One time, she’d been hired by a drug lord to attend a party where notorious felons were going to be. She’d begged her manager at the time to let her skip, but the money had been too good. It was a night she’d rather not remember.
She hoped her time with Drake wouldn’t fall into that category.
“He’s in there,” Wrek said, reaching for her hand. “He won’t hurt you or he’ll have to face Han.”
“If you say so,” she said.
Tork was digging in a pocket for a cigarette. They all watched as he lit it and took a drag. “Just do that trick you showed me,” he said, squinting through the smoke, but he wasn’t smirking. Was he… jealous?
She wanted to ask him, but knew he’d never admit it. Plus, there wasn’t time. The wall opened behind her. Darkness waited on the other side of the wall. And then a voice bellowed, “Come in.”
Tork’s hand on her back ushered her into the dark. But when she turned to him, dejection was on his face. She expected him to wipe the real emotion off as soon as their eyes met, but he didn’t. He stared at her sadly as the wall closed and separated them.
Once the dim purple light from the hallway was gone, there was almost nothing to see by. Her heart pounding in her ears blocked out any sound. She whirled toward the large space. Her hands went instinctively behind her, feeling for the wall. It was her body’s last-ditch effort to escape what she knew was coming. What would Drake do? Force himself on her? Hit her? And how was this playing into what she’d been promised about wooing her?
“I hear you can dance,” a disembodied voice said from the deep reaches of the room beyond.
Her head turned toward the sound even though she couldn’t see him. “I can.”
“Good,” he said, the voice growing clearer. He must be moving closer to her.
She tensed, waiting. “What do you want with me?”
“What does any man want with you?” Now his voice echoed from the right.
She turned that way, her pulse pounding. “I don’t know. Sex?”
“Just sex?” the voice asked, this time from the left.
“Companionship?” She was trembling. “An heir?” What game was he playing at?
“Don’t you know what men desire? I thought that was what you were good at.”
She stared at the darkness, trying not to let the fear come out in her answer. “I do what men desire. They tell me what they want, and I make it happen. What do you desire?”
“You don’t care what I desire,” he said, his voice seeming to come from everywhere now. It reminded her of the Great and Powerful Oz, someone playing at power they really didn’t have. And what was she afraid of? She’d been with worse than Drake.
“You don’t care what I desire either,” she said cheekily. “And you should. I’m the one who can produce offspring. You men walk around like you own the planet when you are nothing without women.” It felt good to mouth off. How would he take it?
Suddenly, he was behind her, his breath on her neck.
“I do care what you desire, as long as what you desire is me.” A large hand snaked around her waist. He whirled her toward him, pulling her in until her body was up against his. Her hands pressed against the hardness of his chest as his arms held her tight. She couldn’t see his face, just the dim shape of him. And she could feel his arousal, raised and waiting.
She pushed him away. This time, he let her go. She took a step back so there was space between them. “Why should I desire you? The last time I saw you, you were trying to feed me to criminals.”
He laughed, a deep baritone. “I wasn’t really going to give you over to them. It was a scare tactic to keep you in line.”
“A scare tactic? Is that how you deal with all your dates?”
He took a step forward, trying to bridge the gap between them. “Sometimes.”
She inched backward. “Well, that doesn’t work with me.”
“What does work with you?” he rumbled.
How should she answer? The direct answer was there were lots of ways to her heart and her… er, panties. There was the hot passionate sexual attraction like what she felt with Tork. There was also the slow, sweet courtship she shared with Wrek. She doubted Drake would like to hear about either.
“Start with not trying to scare me. Maybe talk to me. Take me to dinner.”
“Take you to dinner?” he growled.
He moved away, and she wondered if her time with him had ended. Then she worried he was going to come back and force himself on her, something she wouldn’t put past a man who’d tried to use the threat of rape as a scare tactic.
Instead, the lights in the room gradually warmed until it flickered with candlelight. An expensive Italian restaurant appeared—a single table dripping in fine linen, a candelabra above, wall sconces, and a string quartet playing in the corner. The table was set for two in the center. Smells of baking bread and tomato sauce made her stomach rumble and her mouth water.
It was reminiscent of her favorite Italian restaurant back home, Magdaleno’s. They had the best veal parmigiana outside of Italy.
Unsure of herself, Brandy decided to sit at the table that was clearly meant for them. Treating this just like a date, she took the napkin and draped it across her lap, adjusting her clothes and hair. She wanted a mirror and a bag of expensive makeup, but she would have to make do.
The sweet sounds of the violin, cello, bass, and viola floated around her. She knew the instrumentalist were part of the simulation, but the music was soothing, as was the candlelight. Her shoulders relaxed. After picking up the wineglass, she took a sip. Real pinot grigio, not replicated, slipped down her throat. She hadn’t had alcohol since entering Han’s ship. The only intoxicant that ship had was smuggled on by Rahan, and his was unpredictable and strong. She took undignified gulps of Drake’s delicious floral liquid to take the edge off.
Drake returned a few minutes later in date-ready attire. The tailored suit would have cost thousands on earth. Navy blue with a crisp white shirt underneath, the fabric fit his muscular body like a glove. His hair was combed back and he’d shaved, appearing young and fresh without the stubble.
But his gait was awkward in the clothes. Sitting down across the table from her, he fussed with the starched collar and shrugged big shoulders before settling down.
They stared at each other for a while, not sure what to say.
“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, not really sounding like he cared for her answer.
“It’s an improvement for sure,” she said, lifting her empty wineglass, hoping it would refill.
Drake reached for the wine and refilled her glass. “This bottle was imported from your planet, not replicated. Wine is one of the things I like about humans.”
She smiled. “Wine is one of the things most people like about humans. That and bacon cheeseburgers.”
“Would you like one? A cheeseburger?” He arched an eyebrow.
Shaking her head, she gazed over. “I’d like to see what’s on the menu.”
“There’s no menu.” When he snapped his fingers, a waiter appeared, pushing a cart with two silver trays on it. The covers were removed with a flourish, and Brandy’s eyes widened. The food appeared as delicious as she was hoping it would be—one plate full of chicken scaloppini, risotto in a buttery cream sauce, and giant prawns on a salad drizzled with balsamic vinaigrette.
Drake grabbed a thick steak from the other, and began devouring hunks. Brandy selected her dish. She lost herself in the flavor. It was so buttery and delicious she made an audible noise.
His eyes darted up at her.
“Sorry.” She put her hand to her mouth, almost giggling. “It’s so good.”
Surprise lightened his expression. “Food gives you that much pleasure?”
She shrugged, finally nodding. “We were poor when I was little, so I didn’t have a lot of choice in food—peanut butter sandwiches, butter noodles, that sort of thing. Now, I get excited about really good food. It’s one of the reasons I agreed to stay on Han’s ship.”
“Try this,” he said, cutting a bite of steak and offering it to her.
Carefully, she bit the morsel off his fork. It was a strangely intimate gesture. As she chewed, her brain lit up with excitement again. “Damn, that’s good.”