by Eve Langlais
“Don’t tempt me,” he replied, not letting on that he already knew the location of the corrupt councilor’s supposed safe base. Tren wondered what Z’nistakn was truly after. Idle chitchat didn’t seem like his usual style.
“I have a job for you.”
And now they got to the true point of the call. “I’m retired.”
“Surely you could make an exception. I would make it worth your while.” The reptile drummed his clawed fingers on his armrest.
Tren wanted to reach through the view screen and throttle the creature. He’d disliked the dishonest galactic councilor for quite some time, a feeling reciprocated, and yet Z’nistakn still called upon his services, even though Tren kept declining. “I’m busy.”
“So I’ve heard. Cavorting with a human female. I thought you enjoyed better taste.”
Tren restrained himself from growling. What did he care if the slimy councilor insulted Megan? She simply satisfied a need. “Find another mercenary to do your dirty work. I’m not interested.”
The councilor’s forked tongue flicked out again, and he sighed with exaggeration. “Well, I am glad to hear it isn’t the barbarian female making you soft. In that case, you won’t miss her.”
Before Tren could retort, an explosion jarred his ship, and Z’nistakn chortled. Tren cut the communication and moved, even as his computer warned him.
“Rear hatch blown. Unauthorized life forms boarding. Sealing—”
An invisible pulse made the air around him waver and sent a shiver through his body. The voice of the machine abruptly cut off as the power supply to his vessel died and pitched him into darkness. Very little could incapacitate his vessel, but the well-aimed electromagnetic pulse would temporarily throw everything offline. His whole system would reboot with an astral quarter unit.
“Frukx!” Tren cursed aloud but didn’t remain still. He needed to get to Megan. The dark didn’t bother him. He’d long ago gotten the visual enhancements that allowed him to see better than most nocturnal creatures. He also wouldn’t let a paltry thing, such as a lack of power, keep him from Megan. Not when she needs me.
As he pried up the hatch in the elevator floor, he called himself all kinds of names for stopping at this way station and not remaining more on guard. Usually nobody or anything could get close enough to his ship to do damage, but he’d allowed the repair crew to do so and without supervision. Under normal circumstances, he oversaw all adjustments; however, this time, he’d found himself preoccupied with one feisty female. A lesson learned that he wouldn’t repeat.
In the meantime, he needed to rectify his error, and quickly. Megan faced danger, alone.
Unacceptable.
Tren slid down the laddered rungs in the elevator shaft, mentally counting until he reached the correct floor. He pried the doors open and dove into the corridor, ducking into a roll as he drew his guns. He ended up on one knee with both his arms extended, his guns primed to fire.
However, of Megan, he saw nothing. Going on instinct, he bypassed his quarters and ran for the other end of the corridor where the lesser-used secondary elevator shaft resided. The gaping maw of its opening made him run faster, and he flew down the ladder. He navigated the warren of tunnels and utility shafts on the lowest level, easily locating the blown hatch the attackers used to force their way in. He ducked through the ragged opening and emerged into the work bubble erected around the lower thruster section as the garage performed repairs.
Peering around, Tren’s jaw tightened at the realization Megan was gone. Anger battled with sinking dread.
A smart acquisitions specialist would have let her go, chalked her up as a loss, one barbarian female’s worth not equal to the damage or fuel expense of a chase and recapture. An intelligent male would have looked upon the situation as the easiest method in which to rid himself of a copulation partner without fear of reprisal.
But Megan belonged to him. And no one takes what is mine.
Megan woke to a thick tongue and a pounding head. She blinked her eyes open and didn’t like what she saw, so she closed them. She took a deep breath then another. All in all, she took about ten shuddering breaths before she opened her eyes again.
Nope, still a bad situation. Damn.
Kind of like her first abduction, she found herself unable to move; however, unlike the last time, she found herself shackled against a wall.
Kidnapped, but not by a nice purple pirate this time if I’m not mistaken.
She wondered if Tren even knew they’d taken her yet. If he cared. Probably not, given how much trouble he claimed she continually was. Perhaps he’d see her kidnapping as a relief. Sure, he’d miss out on a bit of profit, but now he didn’t have to put up with her.
Megan gave her head a shake. Enough with the pity party. He’d never claimed to care for her, and it wasn’t as if she cared for him. He just happened to provide great sex—and a cuddly body to sleep entwined with. And…
She growled as her mind tried to smash through her defenses. She fought back. She couldn’t allow herself to care for him—or trust him. Therein lay the path to stupidity and heartache. Besides, she had more important items to worry about, such as how to escape her untenable situation.
A yank at the manacles holding her proved useless. The noise, however, created a scuffle outside the cell door.
The heavy portal-like door swung open, and the three-armed mechanic from the space station sauntered in.
“It took you long enough to wake,” he complained, and Megan watched in fascination as his five mouths moved at different speeds. It made her wonder what she would have heard if she didn’t wear a translator. She hoped the damned alien was wearing a translator of his own because she didn’t want to waste the insults her mind prepared otherwise.
“Well, excuse me, you three-armed freak, for succumbing to your kidnapping drug so thoroughly. Next time, give me a bit of warning before you decide to abduct me and I’ll try to build a resistance to it first.” She spoke without thinking, a never-ending fault with her no matter the situation.
“Where we’re taking you there won’t be a second chance.” The creature chuckled, pleased with his threat and answering the question that, yes, he could understand her. Perfect, time to put her most effective weapon to use—her acerbic tongue and attitude.
Megan sighed. “You know, I really wish you bad guys would come up with something original. Do you know how many times that phrase has been done in the movies? Seriously. Would it kill you to come up with something new? And maybe take a shower? I mean, seriously, you’ve definitely got something funky going on.”
“You talk too much,” said the alien with a frown, three of his five mouths pulling down in a moue of displeasure.
“So everybody tells me. What are you going to do about it?”
He slapped her in the face, which really hurt but also fired up Megan’s temper. “Oh, big bad alien. Hit a defenseless woman, why don’t you? Coward. What’s wrong? Afraid if I wasn’t tied up I’d hurt you?”
The mechanic-turned-kidnapper snarled. “Filthy-mouthed whore.”
“Not for you I won’t be. I like my men with some balls. I think you left yours at home. Or did someone already neuter you?” Megan’s smile goaded him as much as her provoking words.
That time, when he punched her, she tasted blood, but he still didn’t give in to her taunts and unchain her. A pity. She’d hoped to shame him into doing so.
Worse, the sight of her blood excited him, and he began to rain blows on her body, leaving no part of her undamaged. Through the haze of pain and blood, she could hear him talking to himself.
“Take off my arm and beat me with it, will you? Ha. Looks like I get the last laugh. I’ve got your woman now, Trenkaluan. Not such a tough mercenary after all. And once I’m done showing this whore her place, I’m going to let her service me. How do you like that, you smug bastard?”
“You’re nuts,” she muttered. “Tren doesn’t care for me.”
“Liar,” sp
at the alien, his mouths contorting out of sequence. “He’s never been seen with a woman outside of a brothel before. You must mean something, and I am going to ruin you for him. Sully you and then throw it in his face. And he won’t be able to do a thing about it.”
“That’s what you think,” growled a surprising, but welcome, voice.
He came for me!
Eleven
Tren cursed the time it took to get his ship back online and discard the repair bubble. He used those wasted moments to imagine how he’d torture the three-armed bastard who’d dared move so brazenly against him.
Of course, he had only his distraction for one female to blame for getting caught off guard. Then again, if the cowards had come for him, he’d have taken care of the problem, distraction or not, but they’d instead dared to go after Megan. Just the thought of her in someone else’s grasp made his anger burn hotter than a star gone super nova.
Locating them proved easy once he got on his way. Megan’s translator also contained a tracking device, an expensive upgrade he’d acquired for a project he’d ended up passing on a while back. His ship followed the blip of her signal while he armed himself and prepared to unleash a miniature war.
Nobody frukxed with him and lived to tell the tale.
When he got within radar range, he engaged the cloaking device. Another expensive toy, but a lack of wealth had stopped being a barrier a long time ago. His larger craft shadowed the vessel holding Megan. He made his way to the lowest deck, not the section where the dead-aliens-walking had entered, but another smaller section especially built for space embarkations. Fingers flying on the console, he engaged his boarding mechanism, which lowered a metal tube. It connected to the other vessel’s surface with only the slightest thud.
Tren braced his feet over the hatch as it hissed open and dropped through as soon as it was clear. He hit the surface of the other vessel and went to work with a laser cutting through the metal. As soon as the piece dropped, providing him entry, he followed, his knives pulled. In space, only the insane used guns, which could punch holes into vital areas. Usually, he was that crazy person, but he needed to ensure Megan’s safety before he let loose.
The storage room he entered, while loaded with stolen goods, did not contain anything for him to kill. A shame.
A scan of the ship by his own computer showed only six life forms on board—Megan plus five idiots. A paltry amount. The first two he found in the bridge, oblivious to the vessel anchored above them. They managed to turn only halfway to greet him when he slit their throats before they could raise an alarm. Wiping his blades on their carcasses, he moved quickly to search room by room. The crewman exiting from a stateroom managed a squeal before Tren thrust his dagger into him and dragged it up, eviscerating him.
Cold rage drove him as he methodically hunted the remaining two. He located the fourth miscreant standing outside an open doorway, watching something eagerly. Tren could hear a voice muttering and the fleshy smacks of someone getting beaten. Tren ran at the inattentive guard and thrust both daggers into its back, using them to lift and move the gurgling thug out of his way.
Tren stood framed in the doorway, and his fury coalesced from angry red to an icy white. The three-armed mechanic, who should have known better than to frukx with him, slugged Megan, who hung bruised and bloody from a set of manacles.
He caught the soon-to-be-dead alien midsentence. “…like that, you smug bastard?”
“You’re nuts,” she muttered. “Tren doesn’t care for me.” Her words struck him like a blow.
“Liar,” spat the alien. “He’s never been seen with a woman outside of a brothel before. You must mean something, and I am going to ruin you for him. Sully you and then throw it in his face. And he won’t be able to do a thing about it.”
“That’s what you think,” Tren growled, more angry than he recalled ever being. He didn’t need his knives for this, so he sheathed them as he flowed into the room, vengeance personified.
The mechanic snarled as he drew a knife of his own and lunged at him. Tren didn’t move. He caught the flailing wrist and the second, which came out of nowhere with another blade. He yanked and twisted the appendages as the third hand came thrusting at him—and missed. The crack and snap as bone broke preceded the wailing scream of the alien. But Tren wasn’t done. He grabbed the third arm and snapped it, too.
The idiot, who’d thought to best him, collapsed screaming. The noise irritated Tren, so he kicked it in the head, knocking it unconscious.
Then he turned to face his human.
Megan, even with all her injuries, retained enough wits to gape at him. “You actually came for me?”
He shrugged. “Did I mention I hate pirates?”
She laughed, a sound tinged with pained hysteria. “You’re insane.”
“Probably. But I wouldn’t talk if I were you. What did I tell you about trouble?” He spoke to her gently, trying to keep her attention on him as he used his knives to pry open the manacles. The left one popped open, and he went to work on the other.
“I know. I just keep making that profit margin of yours smaller and smaller.”
“If this keeps up, I might have to keep you for a while until you work off some of your debt.”
The restraint snapped off, and she collapsed against him. He caught her with one arm, hugging her tight to him, his rage burning anew at her weakness and injury.
“I’m sorry I’m such a pain in the ass,” she whispered against his chest. “You should have left me to die.”
“Never,” he almost yelled, the very thought of her death chilling him through and through. But she never heard his reply as she slipped into unconsciousness.
A myriad of feelings swirled in him. He wanted to wake her up and shake her for allowing herself to succumb to despair. He wanted to crush her tight to him and keep her forever safe. He wanted to kiss her until she smiled. He wanted to weep with relief that he’d found her.
I’ve truly lost my mind, and he was no longer sure he cared, a situation he’d examine later. Right now, Megan needed tending.
He swung her up into his arms and headed back out into the main hall. Reaching his created entrance, he held onto her with one arm as he used his other to grasp a hanging harness that his ship dropped at his command. The crank, holding the suspended cable, hoisted him and his precious burden up. He wouldn’t—couldn’t—let her go as he tapped in the commands to separate his vessel from the now-vacant one. The hatch closed with a metallic click, and Tren heard the sound of the metal tube retracting. He didn’t bother calling up a view screen to watch the fireworks when he ordered his computer to fire on the other vessel as soon as they were at a safe range.
More important matters called to him, such as getting Megan to the medical unit as quickly as possible. He laid her on the table with care, stripping her bloodied garments, a strange moisture in his eyes as he visually catalogued her external hurts. A low moan emerged from him when he read the list of internal injuries she’d suffered because he’d failed her in the first place. In that moment, he vowed to never let her down again. To never allow another to hurt her.
And I’m never letting you go.
Megan’s eyes fluttered open and, worried about what she saw, she shut them quickly.
Oh no, I died.
She tried to calm her breathing, which quickened as she took stock of her situation. The last thing she remembered was collapsing in Tren’s arms as he rescued her, the screaming pain of her body making her faint. That agony seemed gone, which given Tren’s alien technology, seemed possible. But the soft surface she found herself on, a fluffy cloud, for sure, and the frescoed ceiling above her certainly didn’t resemble either his ship or anything else she’d ever encountered in her life.
Hence, she must have died and gone to some alien heaven.
That sucked. I’ll miss my damned pirate.
A tear leaked from the corner of her eye…and was wiped by a calloused finger.
Her eyes
flew open, and she let out a watery laugh as a familiar purple visage came into view. “I’m not dead,” she exclaimed.
“Of course not,” he retorted.
She grinned at his matter-of-fact statement. “Well, excuse me for doubting you. The last thing I remembered was passing out.”
“A weak female constitution is no excuse for doubting my abilities.”
Megan snorted. “I’d like to see you act so tough if you were tied up and beaten.”
“Is this another one of your roundabout ways of asking for kinky sex?” He leered at her, and Megan laughed.
It felt good to be alive.
“So how long was I out? And where are we?” she asked, sitting up, and realizing only as the sheet pooled around her waist that she wore not a stitch of clothing.
To his credit—or not—he didn’t let his gaze stray to her exposed breasts. “Your injuries required several galactic cycles to mend. As to our location, I’ve brought us to a secure location so that I can have repairs done to the ship.”
“Oops, another delay on my path to auction,” she joked, although her heart wasn’t truly into it. The thought of being sold didn’t irritate her—frighten her yes—but the ache came more from the knowledge that her eventual sale meant she wouldn’t enjoy Tren’s company—or body—any longer.
“Never fear, you’ll get what’s coming to you,” he announced cryptically, dropping a light kiss on her lips. “Now, are you hungry?”
Megan nodded and watched him saunter out of the room with a spring in his step. She wondered what made him so freaking happy. The knowledge that as soon as the ship got repaired, he could finally get rid of her bothersome ass?
Megan scowled. Stupid, rotten jerk. He doesn’t give a damn that soon I’ll belong to someone else. The realization crushed her. It also destroyed her last wall of denial and forced her to examine the truth of her feelings for him.
Ah, shit. I love him.
How and when had it happened? She didn’t like him. He intended to sell her, and yet he roused a passion in her body like no other. He intentionally goaded her until she attacked him, but at the same time, he stimulated her mind and put up with her attitude. Hell, he encouraged it. And she’d fallen hard for him, a useless emotion that now guaranteed he’d break her heart because she didn’t suffer under the delusion he felt the same way. Why would he when he could have his pick of women, well, alien females anyway? Why would he want her argumentative, barbaric ass when he could hook up with a docile, dainty bitch?