by Abella Ward
She knew she couldn’t get off the station as long as the biobank was around her neck. And she couldn’t resist the Klai or he would finish her off without another thought. She would just have to wait and look for an opportunity to escape . . .
***
Tara rubbed her neck where the biobank had been. She suddenly felt free, as if her life had been given back to her. The constant pressure, the stress of knowing that her life was in the hands of another and he could end it at any time, was gone.
They were at the local biotech workshop that manufactured the biobanks. Rydel watched her quietly, his gaze ever-so intense, making her feel so conscious of herself.
“Don’t worry about it,” said the tech guy as he stared at Tara. “The mark will go away in a day or so.” He was a shrewd man with scaly orange skin and green eyes. And he did his job well as he had done it many times before. The biobank had to be taken off the slaves who were sold to people who wished to take them to other planets. That was the only way they could leave the Station with their masters.
“Thank you,” Rydel said in a tone that was colder than usual. “You will receive the payment shortly.” Rydel grabbed Tara’s arm and pulled her out of the shop before the guy could reply.
He almost dragged her toward the docking station. It was a mile-long walk, and by the time they reached his ship, Tara was out of breath. He tapped a few commands on his wristband and the doors to the ship whirred and slid open. Once they were inside, they stayed in the decompression chamber for 10 minutes. Then Rydel went straight to the control room, pulling Tara behind him.
Welcome Aboard, Commander Rydel. The ship’s computerized voice boomed overhead. It felt strange – Tara had never been aboard a starship before.
“Computer, what’s our current status?” he commanded.
All systems are ready and functioning. We can set off immediately. Please enter your destination.
He tapped in commands as Tara stood by, still catching her breath. It was strange that her breathing clip wasn’t helping. The air inside the ship seemed too thick to breathe.
He took out the Scroll and studied it for a while. A new text had appeared.
On Ranus you will find the crystal rock,
The stone that knows the essence of life
It glows brightly in its presence,
And will guide you through the night.
“Computer, locate Planet Ranus,” Rydel said as Tara watched. A few minutes later, the computer showed a holographic image of the map and coordinates to planet Ranus above the control panel.
“That looks good. How long will it take to reach there?” Rydel asked.
Three weeks and four days, Commander.
He tapped in more commands and set course. A low hum reverberated through the ship as the engines started.
“Tara, come with me,” he said and led the way to another door. She followed him down the winding galleries. They reached another door and as he entered, he took her hand and led her inside. His grip was surprisingly gentle.
The room was spacious with gray walls and a white table in one corner. A white couch was near the table. Her head spun as she staggered toward the couch, watching him stride toward the wall to their left. She stared at his tail that twitched restlessly as he tapped in commands and a panel slid open. He took out a bottle and two glasses and poured dark wine the color of purple ink into two glasses.
“Drink this,” he said as he held out one to her.
She took the glass from him with trembling hands, not meeting his intense gaze. He watched her take a sip as he himself gulped down the dark, smooth wine, draining the glass.
“Look at me,” he said in a low deep voice as he bent over and put the glass on the table near them.
Tara blinked a few times before she looked up at him. He stood close to her – too close – towering over her. She stared into those icy blue depths that shimmered with a fire that made her heart skip a beat. Her gaze roved over his handsome chiseled features: straight nose, perfect jaw, and sculpted lips . . . The subtle sweep of the tip of his ears, making them pointed and very much non-human. There was a sharpness to his features that was enhanced by the dark hair that reached his shoulders.
Her breath hitched and she blinked. Tearing her gaze away from his, she took a few more sips while he watched the wine warm her blood. It was a different wine, native to his planet. A kind she had not tasted before. It tasted good and had an instant effect on her. It made her forget why she was there for a while.
He gently took the glass from her and put it away. He had seen the fear in her clear brown eyes. And there was more. He had glimpsed confusion, anger, and a strange fire flit across those beautiful warm depths. He reached up and pulled back the hood from her face.
“No . . . p - please no . . . ” she whimpered, cringing away from his touch and pulling the hood tighter across her face.
“I want to see your face, woman,” Rydel said in a firm voice.
He reached up again and she let him pull back the hood, turning her face sideways as if ashamed. Tears welled in her eyes as he gazed at her disfigured face. Her otherwise beautiful face had been partially destroyed, melted. Luckily, her eyes were not affected, but part of her cheek and the side of her neck were ruined, her ear almost gone. The burns seemed fresh. His chest constricted terribly. What kind of man would do this to a woman? That bastard did this to her. Something deep inside him snapped as a slow dull pain began to throb at his temples. Rage like hot molten lava began to smolder inside his blood. It was good he had killed him.
The hot molten fire reached his eyes, as he roughly pulled her chin up and turned her face toward him, forcing her to look at him. And when she did, without warning, he tilted his head and, bending down, he locked his lips with hers. The movement of his lips was slow, passionate, and demanding. She was his, and he would protect her always.
Tara gasped against his mouth and put her hands on his chest, pushing him away, but it was futile. Two strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her close to him in a powerful embrace. His mouth claimed hers fervently as he deepened the kiss, his tongue ravaging her mouth. Tara moaned against his mouth as her body went out of control. She kissed him back and hated herself for it. She liked the feel of his mouth on hers – as if this was what she had wanted all along.
After several minutes, Rydel pulled away. There was a dazed look in her eyes masked by surprise.
“What are you doing?” she asked, feebly catching her breath as she again tried to free herself from his hold. Vertigo took over at that moment and she collapsed in his arms.
Rydel cursed, clenching his teeth and picking her up. He hurried toward the door. “Computer, ready the healing pod,” Rydel yelled. He had seen that she had difficulty breathing ever since she boarded the ship. He had been a fool. He should have taken her to the sick bay right away.
Head toward the healing chamber, please, the computer instructed.
Rydel rushed toward the healing chamber. Once inside, he put her in the capsule-like healing pod. He watched her through the glass of the pod as it sealed. The computer began scanning her body and gave out a list of issues.
She has endured internal and external injuries due to physical abuse. It will take 56 hours for the injuries to be healed completely.
“What kind of abuse? Elaborate,” Rydel demanded, his jaw clenched.
Severe blows to her chest and legs as well as sexual abuse.
“Computer, begin healing procedure immediately,” Rydel commanded as rage threatened to break him. “And also heal her face,” he added breathing hard.
I am sorry Commander, but we do not have the facility on the ship to reconstruct her face.
Rydel clenched his fist as his chest constricted again. He was reacting to her in a way he would never react to anybody. It only proved she was his mate.
And Commander, I must inform you, that the patient is a modified human.
“Please elaborate,” Rydel said frowning.
“What are your options? Can you fully heal her?” He asked.
Yes, Commander. Once her injuries are healed, the symbiont will function properly.
Rydel sighed. “Alright, please proceed.”
With one last look at her, he left the room and headed toward his quarters.
Rydel poured himself a drink as he pondered over the situation. He would take her home after he found the Svix. Home? Did he actually have a home? He had never thought about it. Scyok had always felt like a stop-over. He hoped the stone would take him directly to the Svix. He was growing tired of deciphering riddles. And he couldn’t wait to go back, couldn’t wait to heal her inside and out.
Chapter 4
She was drifting, afloat. She couldn’t see where she was. Everything was a white haze. The darkness seemed to have left. She could only feel her body drifting away . . .
No. This wasn’t real. Where was she? She must have dozed off or something. She could still feel her chest heaving with every breath she took. She must know where she is . . .
Tara forced her heavy lids to open. The white haze was still there, but then it cleared. Shapes danced in front of her and then came into focus. She blinked several times and then stared at the softly lit light that came through the glass. She tried to move her head but couldn’t. It felt like a thousand tons. Where was she? Then the glass silently split open and she gasped. She was staring at the gray-white ceiling which glowed with soft lights she couldn’t see. It was oddly soothing.
She was obviously not in her room. Her vision much clearer, she looked around. The white walls were lined with two more pods to her left. Was she in hibernation? She couldn’t remember. She tried lifting her head, and this time, she managed to move only to be hit by a hammering headache. She heard the door hiss open in the distance. She closed her eyes and laid back, her hand covering her eyes.
Rydel silently walked toward her and stood near her pod. He watched her for a few seconds. She was still in her old gown, the one she wore back at the Station. Her hand moved away and her eyes fluttered open and grew wide.
“You . . . ” she gasped as recognition dawned on her face.
“Yes, me,” he said as he injected some fluid on the side of her neck.
A deluge of memories rapidly flooded back in her head, making the throbbing headache increase. “Ah . . . ” she moaned. “What are y . . . ?” she began.
“This will help with the headaches and nausea. Our drugs are a bit harsh for you. Humans have such frail bodies, and the side effects can be a bit overwhelming,” he said, cutting her off in that cold, emotionless voice.
For a split second, he saw something flit across her eyes, and then she slowly sat up. His chest constricted then. She didn’t trust him. Rydel wished he could explain things to her in a better way, but he didn’t know how. He ignored whatever she might be thinking about him and tried focusing on the matter at hand. He gave her a few minutes for the drug to take effect.
“How long have I been like this?” she said softly as she shifted to sit up. She felt oddly better. The alien medicine worked fast.
“One day. That’s according to Scyok time. Thirty-six hours according to the Station’s time.
“Oh . . . ” she said, looking away. His intense blue gaze was like fire. Suddenly, she was so aware of his presence in the room that she unconsciously tried to cover her disfigured face.
Rydel saw the anxious look in her big brown eyes. He knew she was uncomfortable with the side of her face uncovered.
“Come with me. I’ll show you to your quarters. You can bathe and change into a fresh set of clothing. The Ship’s computer is aware of your every action and it records everything. Ask her anything in your tongue and she will guide you. She understands multiple languages. And if you need to contact me, just press this and say whatever you want here,” he said in a formal tone as he placed a slim dark band on her wrist. “It’s a communication device. I will be in my quarters.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. She almost stumbled into him.
“B - but where are you taking me?” she asked as he dragged her outside and into the curving corridor.
He turned his head sideways and gave her a sidelong glance as if she were the dumbest person alive. “I just told you.” His tone had an undercurrent of impatience.
“I . . . I mean where is the ship taking us?” she gasped, trying to keep up with his long strides. Her eyes would inadvertently flit toward his tail that swished behind him. Somehow, she found it attractive.
Jeez, Tara, when did you start finding tails sexy? Maybe this man’s tail was different. She blinked and stared ahead. She had totally lost it.
“Later, woman,” he said curtly. She decided it was time to stay quiet for now.
***
Tara was glad her chamber was neither too small or too big. It was simple, with a flat bed and a chair. The bathroom had a system of cleansing. The steam had glowing particles which actually cleansed the body without getting it wet. It felt good to be clean again. And then there was Gyree, the ship’s computer. She was a good guide. Tara chose a soft silver-gray bodysuit with a hooded cloak. She would have preferred a gown or pants with a shirt, but body suits were all they had on this ship.
Tara tied her long, straight golden-brown hair into a bun and donned her cloak. There was a sleek-looking mirror in the recess of the wall. She stared at her reflection. She saw a disfigured woman with tired eyes who wished to be invisible.
Would Rydel love a woman like her? A woman without a face . . . He was really handsome. The Klai were known to be attractive, and they exploited it.
What was wrong with her? She had no future with him . . . at least not the kind of future she wished to have. No matter what he said, her being his mate was nothing but a ruse to use her as a sex slave. He won’t be any different. They all saw her as a clone: a mere copy, a body to be used. And the memory of her father’s death crashed into her mind.
Tears welled in her eyes as she rapidly blinked them away, swallowing the lump in her throat. She couldn’t go there . . . No, she must not let her guard down and think of him as anything other than what he truly was. She let the rage wash over her. It was the only emotion that helped her survive.
She carefully covered the side of her face with a clean scarf, pulling on the fabric roughly. A few stubborn tears slid down her cheeks. She quickly wiped them away with the back of her hand. And then she pulled up the hood, its shadow hiding the sadness in her eyes.
Ms. Dawson, the Commander awaits you in the common room, Gyree announced overhead. She asked the computer to guide her to where he was and stepped out into the winding corridor. She followed the instructions Gyree gave her and walked on.
Where was Rydel taking her? She wondered this while walking down the corridor, the lights on the walls guiding her whenever there was an intersection. She did not trust him. No, she could not trust him. He was a Klai. She should not forget that. Klai men were not be trusted. They were murderers. It was really easy for him to kill Cayne. Although she would not admit it, she was glad he did. But whatever his plan was, she had to be careful. She had to be strong. If she wanted freedom, then she couldn’t let him get under her skin.
She reached the doors to the common room a few minutes later. Taking a deep breath, she clenched her fists to calm her heart thudding in her chest. Then, with trembling hands, she held her wrist with the band in front of the panel beside the door, just as Gyree had told her to. The device scanned her band and unlocked the door.
Rydel sat pondering over the Scroll. He looked up and did a double take as Tara walked in. The figure-hugging suit she wore set off her slender curves, softly rounded hips, and delicately-shaped small breasts. She le
t the hood slip back and her face, covered by the scarf-like turban was strangely seductive. His chest constricted then. She was his mate. He suppressed the urge to reach out and take it off, and let all that long hair flow free . . . He wanted to grab her and shove her on the couch and bury himself inside her till she screamed his name out loud in pure ecstasy. He could claim her if he wanted to.
No, he must find out how she was linked to the Svix. He must wait till the little mystery was solved. He needed to focus. The Scroll still hadn’t revealed anything further regarding the symbol. It had to mean something.
“Um . . . Gyree told me you wanted to see me,” she said ever so softly, not meeting his eye. He realized he was staring at her, the Scroll forgotten.
“Ah, yes. There are a few things you must know,” he said in a businesslike tone as he got up from the couch, gesturing for her to take a seat. “Make yourself comfortable, Tara.”
Her name lingered on his tongue seductively for a while. He got up and moved to the back of the room to pour them drinks. She sat down cautiously and stared at the old parchment that lay open on the table: The Scroll. There were several more sheets of paper littered near it. She could make out scribbles in another tongue, symbols that she did not recognize. It was as if he was trying to draw some kind of map and note down the names. There was an ornate dagger placed near it. She looked over her shoulder and glanced at him. His back was to her. She turned back and stared at the dagger. Slowly, her hands shaking, she picked it up. It was unsheathed, felt slightly heavy in her hands. The blade was sharp and lethal. She remembered the way it had slit Cayne’s throat. She shuddered. She slid it under her cloak near the couch, away from sight.
Rydel walked toward her carrying two trays of food. “Hold these,” he said, handing her the trays without waiting for a response. She stared at the food. He cleared the table and put the papers on the chair nearby in one heap. Then he took the trays back and placed one in front of her and the other next to it. He sat opposite her on another chair.