Syrin's Mate

by Michele Mills

  She stopped for a moment. He wasn’t sure if she was going to continue.

  “Um…I lived with smugglers,” she finished.

  “Smugglers or pirates?”

  “Well, not pirates. Well, okay, not really smugglers either. We were…”

  “Thieves?”

  She sighed. “Yeah. Okay, thieves. We stole high-end stuff from rich people.”

  “What did you specialize in?” He suspected he knew the thieves she’d been involved with. Three planetary rotations ago he’d spearheaded a Bounty Hunter mission to bring in a gang that fit this description. In his research he’d discovered there were only two gangs of this type in the four sectors.

  “Well, when I joined them they’d moved over to appropriating ancient artifacts. We were hired to steal objects back and return them to their rightful owners.”

  “Or to individuals who would resell them on the open market to the highest bidder.”

  She coughed. He could hear her shifting above him. “That too.”

  “What role did you play in their organization?”

  “I was the locksmith,” she said with a hint of pride in her voice.

  “Locksmith? What is that?”

  “It’s an old Earth term. I made it up. It means I was the one who specialized in figuring out how to open all the layers of security that were in the way of our acquisition. I wasn’t the mastermind, the muscle, or the one with blasters blazing, or the person dangling from a wire. I was the tech on a tablet relaying information, planning how to hack into systems and override their defensives.”

  “Impressive,” he answered truthfully.

  “Oh,” she whispered. “You think so?”

  “You’re very young to be given such responsibility. And also, you were raised on New Earth, which is known to be primitive. That means you learned quickly and became proficient in a short amount of time. Your organization would never have promoted you to that position if they felt you weren’t the best. Professional thieves have no room for error.”

  “Yeah, I had to work my way up. I apprenticed with an older Ralevian female with terrible breath and a spiked tail that was constantly slapping me in the face. But she knew her shit. Six moon cycles in they let me—”

  “Human. You have not answered my question. Did you kill Cylo Rin?”

  “No, of course not. I already told you I didn’t. I’m a system’s analyst, not a murderer.”

  “Why do they think you killed him? Why is there a vid with a truth lock seal?”

  “I don’t know! The whole thing is a giant scam. It’s the reason I’m in here and it’s complete bullshit. During our last operation we’d targeted an artifact in the home of Cylo Rin.”

  “Wait, the mastermind of your group decided to accept a mission to retrieve an artifact from the home of a celebrity with the highest rated reality show in the four sectors?”

  “I know. Bold, right? It was going to be our biggest payout yet. We planned it for three moon cycles before going in, and it still blew up in our face. Well, in my face.”

  “What happened?”

  “They had to have been tipped off. They knew we were coming. Remember, I’m not the muscle, the one with blasters blazing. Those guys were all shot down quickly by the house security team. I ran for my life, busting out of the getaway hovercraft we’d stationed nearby as it was raided. The only way clear in front of me was unfortunately back into the house. I was running, trying to find a way out when I literally bumped into Cylo Rin. In the midst of the chaos, there he was. I was holding my small personal blaster. He yelled at me and grabbed for my weapon, we struggled and it went off. He fell to the ground. It was all really weird, like it was too easy or something. I mean, I’m not exactly strong and he’s a big guy. He dropped to the ground and was moaning. Then the guards rushed in to arrest me. And the rest is history. But I didn’t murder him. He was alive and breathing. There was only a small blaster burn on his shoulder. I didn’t kill him. I swear.”

  Syrin lay quiet, processing the convoluted story she’d told him.

  “Do you believe me?”

  “It doesn’t matter whether I believe you or not. What matters is that the inmates here believe you killed him and they want to kill you.”

  “You don’t believe me,” she wailed. “You think I did it, too. Everyone thinks I killed him.” Her voice sounded ragged and wet. “But I didn’t!”

  “Are you crying?”

  “Of course I’m not!” she sniffed. “I’m not. It’s just…I’m sad, okay? My whole team died in that raid. Beings I’d worked with day in and day out for a whole planetary rotation. Yeah, they were thieves, but they were honorable in their own way. They took me in when no one else would. They trained me. Paid me well. And treated me with respect, which I’m telling you in my life, that’s unusual. Men, men treating me with respect that I’d earned. And now they’re all gone and I’ve got no one again. And I’m in prison for a murder I didn’t commit. And now, all the inmates want me dead and even the guy who is supposed to protect me thinks I’m a murderer. It’s not fair! Sometimes I feel like I’m never going to catch a break.”

  He sighed. “I am an outlaw, I live outside the scales of Xylan Law. As a berserker, I was formally outlawed. This means I cannot have a mate or a line, my blood is contaminated and not to be continued. I am considered a lone wolf, or have the status of an animal, not that of a warrior, amongst the Xylan.”

  She was quiet for a moment. “Is that your way of telling me you understand what I’m going through?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re an outcast. Your people have removed you from their planet, from their society. All because you are a berserker?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you had any incidents since you left Chronos and became a Bounty Hunter?”

  “There was one,” he admitted, telling her a half truth. “It’s why I am here.”

  “Oh.”

  They were both quiet for a moment.

  “Are you going to tell me about it?”

  “No. Sleep, human. Tomorrow will be a difficult day.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I will put you to work.”

  Six

  Sara woke up the next morning to the sound of Syrin urinating. She tried not to giggle at the idea of hearing this awe-inspiring male performing such a base bodily function. Then she frowned, realizing this meant he could easily hear her when she did the same thing in their tiny cell.

  Wonderful.

  There was zero privacy in this place.

  Overnight she’d heard all kinds of noises. Muffled screams. Grunts. Gas passing. Snorts. Footsteps. This place wasn’t at all like her comfortable home on Omega 9, it was more like the worst ghettos of New Earth.

  She stayed in the bed. Or the hard metal bunk. Whatever. Unwilling to get up and face another diurnal cycle in a vicious prison full of inmates focused on killing her.

  She’d had to sleep on her side with her head on her arm as a pillow, shifting from side to side so as to remove sore spots. It pretty much sucked. No blanket, no pillow, no bedding whatsoever. Not a bit of cushion. Basically, it was like sleeping on a slab of metal. She’d seen flashes of bedding in other cells as she’d walked past. That Creekan they’d visited yesterday had a nice set up. Maybe you could earn or buy those things as time went on.

  She exhaled. Okay, time to get this party started.

  Sara turned around and slipped down the side of her bunk, stepped on the one below and hopped down to the ground. And then she was face to face with Syrin. Or face to orange fabric-covered chest. There was only a millimeter of space between their two bodies. She sucked in a breath and tilted her chin up.

  Striking soft brown eyes with hints of gold held hers for a moment. Her stomach swooped pleasantly. His heavy gaze peeled away her defenses and it seemed as if he saw inside her very soul. She could hide nothing from him.

  Suddenly her mind was overly concerned with the fact that she was wearing that
same orange jumpsuit, now with a stain on it from last night’s meal. She had nothing with which to clean her teeth or freshen her breath. And how was she going to brush her hair? And makeup? Forget about it.

  “Before we go into the mess hall the four of us will use the cleansing units,” he announced.

  The cleansing unit? That sounded great, it was just…she was distracted by the sleeves of his orange jumpsuit which were rolled up, exposing those big, veiny forearms. The epitome of male sexual attractiveness. She literally wanted to lick his skin. Right there…

  Lick? God, she was a mess.

  She looked back up to see him watching her check him out. She cleared her throat. “Cleansing unit? Okay, good. That sounds like a great idea.”

  He began to move away, so she pressed back against the edge of the bunks, trying to give him space to pass by.

  He went to the massive unlocked door and slid it open as if it were light as air. “I’m going next door to talk to the others,” he told her. “Knock on the wall when you’re ready to meet us and I’ll escort you out.”

  Her brow furrowed. “It’s just next door.”

  “Knock,” he ordered. “Do not step out of this cell without me.”

  “Okay,” she sighed, remembering the psycho Cannibal who’d smashed his face against the window last night. She supposed Syrin was right. Extra cautious was probably a good policy.

  He clanged the cell door shut behind him and she was alone. Safe inside. The outside was filled with males from all over the four sectors who wanted nothing more than to see her dead. She wished she could just stay inside, but her stomach was growling and the only way to eat was to physically show up at the mess hall. And also, the cleaning stations for clothing and bathing were in the rooms next to the mess hall. So, she had to go out at some point if she was going to eat and clean herself.

  Luckily, she had Syrin. Their relationship was tenuous, his two friends thought she was an annoying thorn in their side. But still, even this she’d take over trying to go alone, or with another inmate who expected her body as payment for protection.

  Last night Syrin had listened to her story and opened up and told her things about himself. He still didn’t seem interested in her in any way other than as a person he’d made a vow to. It was true that as a Xylan he had no sexual urges for a female that was not his Bride. And meanwhile, she was a puddle of want in his presence.

  Embarrassing.

  Why couldn’t she have wanted one of his friends? Both of them were handsome in their own right. Even the lizard guy, while being scaly and tough with bulbous eyes, was actually a buffed out, good-looking being. Rengeli had gleaming horns that any female wouldn’t mind petting. But no, even though both of them were giving her appreciative glances when they thought she wasn’t looking—but of course she noticed—her mind and body were as disinterested in both of them as she’d been for every other male she’d ever met.

  Except for Syrin.

  Her body yearned for the male who had zero interest in her and would never change his mind. She wasn’t his mate and that was that.

  She sighed and used the urinal. Tried to wash her hands with just water, ran her fingers through her long, blonde hair, trying to untangle it. And knocked on the wall.

  Minutes later Sara walked in the midst of the three males who were protecting her as effectively as an energy wall. They again did their badass strut down the hallway, with other inmates scurrying out of their way. The four of them crowded into the lift and once again were on the bottom level, the common meeting area of 149.

  Nearby, a large group of inmates sat together at the tables and laughed uproariously at a holo vid.

  “Keep walking,” Syrin gritted.

  Sara tried to look away, but couldn’t. She did a double take. Oh shit. The inmates were watching The Cylo Rin Show. The exact episode where she supposedly killed Cylo Rin. Her face was magnified on the screen.

  The whole group of inmates collectively turned their heads and glared at her as she passed. One of them locked eyes with her and used his hand to run his finger across his neck, symbolizing what he’d do to her once he had her alone.

  Sara swallowed hard and kept close to her protectors, grateful for their presence. Not a single inmate dared say a thing to her as long as Syrin, Trax and Rengeli were near. Gods, she was so lucky she’d met these males.

  They entered the portal for the cleansing units. Yesterday, she’d noticed another door that led somewhere important because there were so many inmates walking in and out, but she hadn’t had a moment to check or even ask what it was. Today they went straight there, passing through with groups of other orange-suited males. Inside, the noise level was loud and echoing in the enclosed space. She could hear water rushing, machines running, voices talking and shouting to each other. The place was filled with inmates.

  She saw Syrin and Trax exchange a glance, then Trax put a claw to his snout and let out an ear-splitting whistle. Sara winced. How he managed that, she had no idea.

  Everything stopped, the inmates froze. All heads turned in their direction. The only sound left was the trickle of water and the whirring of the mysterious box-like machines.

  “Out,” Rengeli bellowed. “Everyone out now.”

  Sara felt kinda bad. Some of them had appeared to be mid-cleaning. Inmates were running out wet with jumpsuits pressed over where their private parts happened to be. But still in a surprisingly short amount of time the place was completely cleared. After everyone was gone Trax and Rengeli walked through the rows of stalls, looking for stragglers, while Syrin stayed by her side.

  “All clear,” Trax announced.

  She stood next to the group of males, looking around at the washers and the cleansing units, unsure of her next move.

  Syrin pointed to the back. “You can go and clean up back there, separate from us. There’s a washer over there, too. Put your jumpsuit in the washer first and then use the cleanser. We won’t see you from here. You will have total privacy.”

  Oh. “Thanks.”

  “We’ll do this every time,” Trax said. “Get used to it. Remember, it’s either them or you. We give them no opportunity, that’s how you’re going to come out of this alive.”

  She gave them both a tremulous smile and then went to the back row.

  There were washers for their clothing, which was great considering her jumpsuit was already dirty. But that meant being naked while she bathed. She bit her lip. At least her clothes would be washed and dried in the time it took her to finish washing her body.

  She glanced around again, double-checking that she did have total privacy, no one peeping at her. In the distance, near the front entrance, she could hear the three males talking to one another as they put their jumpsuits in the nearby washers. She could catch glimpses of the tops of their heads and hear the washers starting, and yes, they weren’t paying any attention to her.

  Perfect.

  Sara kicked off her clunky boots and then unzipped her suit and stepped out of it. She pushed the lumpy orange fabric into a washer and started the cycle.

  She stepped into the nearest cleansing unit and sighed with relief as water washed over her. Gods, it felt good. The water smelled like the cleansing products and disinfectant it was loaded with, all of which were rough on her skin, but whatever, she’d take what she could get. In a moment the concentrated water had her hair conditioned and her skin clean. She gasped when the super-powered dryer blasted her body and hair dry. Outside the cleansing unit she noticed there was even a small mouth and teeth cleanser embedded into the wall, which she gladly used. The washer beeped. She took out her warm, clean jumpsuit, put it back on, a smile on her face, ready to face the world. Or, um, the prison.

  Next, they all went to the mess hall and had the morning gray gruel, this time without meat and instead some sort of grain. It was basically tasteless, but it was again their only nutrition so she forced herself to eat it. The one good thing was that since it was being handed out via the food
dispensers the inmates were allowed many bowls. She wasn’t sure if there was a limit per inmate, although she figured there’d have to be because there was probably some inmate who’d lose his mind, eating until it made him sick. But it seemed if you needed five bowls, you could get five bowls. It was terrible food, but at least there was enough of it.

  “What do we know so far?” Trax asked.

  “We know that all the inmates hate Syrin’s female,” Rengeli said with a smirk on his face, as if she wasn’t sitting right there.

  “She’s not my female,” Syrin rumbled, in between consuming enormous spoonfuls of food. He was so gigantic, it took a lot to feed him. That had to be his third bowl, and he wasn’t done. Yesterday she’d seen him polish off six bowls of gruel. Sara felt so tiny sitting next to him. She never got over how huge this male was. The simple movements of his muscular arms mesmerized her.

  “Your mate?” Trax teased.

  Syrin growled.

  Sara kept eating trying to ignore the blush that heated her cheeks. This conversation seemed to be a continuation of what she was sure was a meeting this morning in their cell about their “Mission.” Like she was stupid and didn’t know the three of them had some secret purpose. Like she hadn’t been right there, watching them try to find some mysterious Xylan who they were certain was incarcerated here and for some reason, hiding from them.

  They probably weren’t even really inmates. She didn’t know what they were, but the more she hung around with them, especially Syrin, the more she knew they weren’t like the others.

  Trax laughed. “Okay, ‘that human in your cell.’ The inmates hate her and will kill her at their first opportunity. So far, she doesn’t seem to be much help. We can’t even tell her the truth. I don’t trust her with it yet.”

  Rengeli nodded.

  “You know I’m right here,” Sara remarked, tired of them talking like she wasn’t right frigging there.