He closed his eyes, listening as much to her tone as her meaning.
“This planet we’re headed for, it’s some kind of private game preserve. They’ve taken your kind there before. I couldn’t find anything out about what will happen though.” Unmistakable notes of worry hid behind the quiet melody of her voice. “They’ve never brought any of them back.”
He heard her shift and then a quick gasp of pain. He twisted, eyes snapping open, resolve gone—swamped by the need to assure himself that she was unharmed.
She’d already dismissed whatever small hurt she’d suffered and gone back to her task. Her hair was tied back in a knot, but the shorter strands around her face clung wetly to her temples. A fine sheen of perspiration made her skin glisten. She stretched and shifted to push up the sleeve of her jacket. The soft swell of her breasts drew his eye as she moved.
His body hardened at the sight.
He knew she wore the concealing jacket, always wore high necks and long sleeves, to hide the color that appeared when she grew angry. She’d claimed it had something to do with Cirrillian biology. He didn’t know what that meant, but he knew it worried her.
She pushed at the sleeve again.
He snarled as his wisdom and caution failed him. “Take it off.” He knew the words were barely recognizable, garbled by his growl, but his body burned with the need to do more than remove her jacket.
She’d gone still, not even breathing. Her hand clenched around her sleeve.
“Take. It. Off.”
“What?” Her voice squeaked.
“The jacket. It bothers you. Take it off.” He growled louder, making her flinch. “It bothers me also.”
“My jacket? Oh. It’s hot, that’s all.” Her voice lowered as she mumbled, “All part of the plan.”
Her words were confusing, but he took them as a refusal and growled in the front of his mouth. It was an instinctive demand for her to submit. A sound any female of his kind would understand, but she wasn’t one of their females.
Her eyes were wide, but she didn’t scent of fear.
He breathed slowly to calm his anger. Control the animal instinct that made him want to claim her. He rose to his haunches then moved to the edge of his cage, wanting to be closer.
“Take off the jacket.” Better, he thought. It had come out low, but without the growl. He didn’t want to frighten her. He wanted to coax her to comply.
He understood that this Cirrillian business was a secret. He wouldn’t like it if she kept a secret from him, but he liked knowing something of her that the whip-master didn’t. Even if he didn’t understand what it meant.
“I won’t tell your secret,” he promised.
Her face remained tight, but she tugged off the garment and went back to work. Barely noticeable bands of warm gold wrapped her slender arms as the muscles flexed, but she went silent. He didn’t want that. He’d come to need her flow of words rolling over him.
“Where is your cloth?”
“In my cabin. No time for that tonight.” Her arm disappeared in the wall panel and she held her breath before letting it out in a huff that relaxed her body and drew his eyes to her curves.
Mercury let out his own breath in a snort of frustration. “Tell me about the cloth.”
She stopped, studying him, eyebrows raised in delicate arches. “Now, you want to talk?”
He nodded, not trusting his voice.
“Okay,” she said. “I was just finishing this up, anyway.” She tapped something inside the panel then closed it and put away her tools.
“In Haverlee—that’s where I lived growing up—sandsilk is one of the few resources we have in abundance.” She moved across the floor with athletic grace, to stand just out of reach. “It’s not as valuable as real silk from old Earth, but there’s a good market for it.”
He knew nothing of sandsilk or old Earth. It didn’t matter. He would gladly listen to her talk about them for the whole of their journey. “More,” he said, afraid even one added word would give away how badly he needed her to continue.
She edged closer and sat in front of his cage. “The thread is made by sandsilk worms.” She grinned. “I know it must sound weird, but the cloth is strong and soft.”
Moving slowly to avoid startling her away, he rolled up on to his toes and crouched near the bars. He wrapped his hands around the cool metal. “Why do you put on the colors?”
“The paint? Well, when I was a girl I worked in the wormaries—that’s where they cultivate the worms that produce the silk— and I got paid in silk thread. I was never good at dyeing and making the cloth so I learned to paint the decorations.” Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, leaving the soft pink flesh glistening. “It’s the night sky over Haverlee,” she said. “The pattern I’m painting.”
She sounded suddenly hesitant. He hated the uncertainty in her voice.
“It’s beautiful,” he said. Her smile told him it was the right thing to say.
Once again moving slowly, he reached up and pulled at the knot of hair at the base of her skull. The lush mass of brown spilled to her shoulders, revealing strands of red and gold. He’d never seen anything like it. He pulled a handful to his nose and sucked in a breath, taking her essence deep into his lungs. “But not as beautiful as this.” Her bright green eyes widened and her scent warmed, turning sensuous and receptive.
Lo moved to the corner of his cage and sniffed at her. Mercury growled a gentle warning. Sam flinched and Lo edged back. It shifted Sam’s attention to Lo and the loss poked at Mercury’s pride.
“The place we’re going,” he said. “We go to be hunted. To die.”
She swallowed and her lips pressed together before she spoke. “I thought it was something like that, but don’t lose hope.”
He wanted to deny the possibility of giving up, but even as they spoke Carn’s protein bar lay uneaten on the floor of his cage. The odds against them weighed more heavily on them every day. “The owners want us dead. Their greed is the only reason we aren’t dead already. Humans will pay to be allowed to hunt us. They’ll use human technology to track us and long range weapons to shoot us. We won’t make it easy for them, but...” Mercury refused to accept the obvious conclusion.
“How can you know that?”
“Drake. He enjoyed telling us how it would be.”
“Never give up.” She looked suddenly serious. “Things will work out.” She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around her legs, hugging them to her chest. Her scent changed with her mood and he regretted his words. He hadn’t thought it through before speaking. He didn’t want to cause her unhappiness. He wanted to soothe her.
“Tell me more about your cloth. You’ll feel more relaxed and your scent will be better.”
She scoffed. “Are you saying I smell bad?”
“No. Not bad. Your scent is always good. Sweet. Honey. Female. It’s best when you’re relaxed and talking softly.”
“Charmer.” She laughed with the word, but it wasn’t humor making her eyes dilate.
He traced his fingers across her cheek, pleased when she allowed it. There was no sign of the bruise she’d gotten defending him. Her slender fingers traced the back of his hand, setting off sparks of need as urgent as if she’d touched his cock.
He traced a trail down the enticing length of her throat and across her collarbone then back. He let his fingers hover there as he watched the pulse in her throat race. It amazed him that she would allow his touch. Trust him with her vulnerable throat. It wasn’t a submissive offering, not born of fear. Only trust.
He drew a curve that followed the edge of the scoop neck shirt that had been hidden beneath her jacket. The path took him across the swell of her breast. Her breath hitched and his cock jumped at the sound.
The bands of color on her arms seemed a more brilliant gold than they had minutes earlier.
He thought back to her earlier words and repeated them back to her as he traced along the edge of one of the stripes. “Do we
have time for a biology lesson?”
She laughed, a loud joyous laugh that came from her belly and made her cheeks red.
A loud pounding broke the spell.
Samantha silently cursed the timing and scrambled to her feet. Finally, after days of trying, she’d started to build some trust with Mercury. They’d even had what could pass for a conversation. The pounding on the door doubled, making her flinch. She pulled on her jacket, sealed it to the top and twisted her hair in a hasty knot then jogged to the hold hatchway. She looked over her shoulder briefly to see that the men were all on their feet but looking calm, then keyed in the open sequence.
She bristled as Drake shoved past her, barreling into the cargo-hold. He came to a halt in the center, twisting around, looking for trouble and gripping a stun-stick in one hand.
“Why in hell was that door code changed?” Drake stormed toward her. “I should be able to get in here whenever the fuck I want.”
His words rose and fell in the sloppy rhythm of a drunk. Sweat matted his hair and slicked his shoulders. He wore only baggy sleep pants, chest bare and sporting more muscle than she’d have given him credit for. Still, next to the Arena Dogs, he seemed small. Puny. But big enough to cause her some serious harm. He’d been an ass from the start, but the longer he’d been on board the more he seemed to be deteriorating. Apparently, the forced idleness of travel didn’t agree with him. And since their discussion in the med-bay he’d started directing more of his venom in her direction.
Samantha pointed toward the auxiliary hatch in the corner of the hold. “I got some anomalous readings on the environmental controls and wanted to check them out. The environmental unit is through there.”
“It’s fucking hot in my quarters. Couldn’t sleep.”
And he’d clearly needed to sleep off the liquor and his foul mood.
“It’s hot everywhere.” When the resistance ship hadn’t shown up, she’d decided to begin laying the groundwork for a slowdown. Maybe give them time. Now that Mercury had explained exactly where they were headed and why, she was doubly glad she’d set things in motion. “It’s probably nothing, but I need to check it.” She shrugged. “I changed the code and locked the hatch as a precaution, in case I find a bigger problem when I start pulling open access panels. Easier to keep things contained. Didn’t want one of you accidentally opening the hatch while I was working.”
“I told you before, you shouldn’t be in here without me or Resler.” Drake gripped her arm and jerked her closer. A chorus of growls went up and his grip tightened painfully on her arm. His pursed his lips in a calculating expression and studied the growling men over her shoulder.
“We’ve argued this to death, Mr. Drake.” She jerked her arm free, drawing his attention back to her. “I’ll do what I think is right where the ship is concerned.”
The hold hatch still stood open and the commotion must have roused Resler. He came stumbling down the corridor.
Samantha returned her focus to Drake. “Haven’t you told me those cages are secure? Besides, they,” she indicated the men with a nudge of her chin, “seem to know I’m not a threat.” She held her hands out to her side. “No stun-stick, no problem.”
“No problem?” Drake’s face twisted in a parody of a smile and he snickered. Samantha reared back away from his scowl and the sour breath that went with it.
“You’re stupid if you’re not afraid of my Dogs. They can turn on you faster than you can spit.”
Samantha’s heart pounded and her throat tightened. She’d never seen him so enraged.
He shoved her up against the bulkhead just out of arm’s reach of Mercury’s cage. “Yeah, I’ll bet they think you look tasty.” The liquor on his breath made her gag.
Samantha could feel the agitation radiating from the caged men as they growled their protest to Drake’s rough treatment. She struggled, but she couldn’t budge the man. Resler might have more bulk, but Drake knew how to use his strength.
Drake laughed at her efforts. “What do you say, Merc? You think she’d make a good snack? Or are you sniffing after something else from her?”
Mercury snarled and snapped in response. “You’d make a better meal. Perhaps when we reach the hunting grounds, you’ll be the prey.”
Samantha’s gaze locked on Mercury, shocked that he’d respond to the taunts. Mercury barely looked at her. She could hear the others getting louder, then one loud howl drowned out the others.
Resler strutted to the farthest cage where Carnage’s howl ended in a snarl. “Well, if it isn’t our lazy Carnage coming back to life. What’s the matter? You hungry? Or you done missing your bitch and ready to fuck anything with a hole?”
Mercury growled deep in his throat. “Come let me out of this cage, you coward, and we’ll see who ends up fucked.” The words vibrated out of his still rumbling throat.
Drake shoved Samantha down to the floor and stepped across her to reach Mercury’s cage. She ended up on her hands and knees facing Diablo. He dropped to the floor, face less than a quarter of a meter away. Her racing heart stuttered and a shiver raced along her skin. She had a moment to wonder if he’d kill her or leave her scarred, then he spoke beneath the howling that filled the small hold.
“Go, little Sam.” He spoke through gritted teeth, lips drawn back from his prominent canines. “Don’t let Mercury’s pain serve no one. Go. Now.”
Samantha looked over her shoulder and saw Drake shove the stun-stick into Mercury’s cage. Resler taunted Carnage with his matching weapon and a smirk on his face. The caged men backed away from their tormenters, but there was no room for them to escape the stinging weapon.
“Go now,” Diablo growled. “Mercury is strong and we’re used to such things.”
Samantha looked into his eyes. The midnight black had been almost completely eclipsed by the flecks of blood red. His thin lips curled back to show his teeth and rage danced in the depths of his eyes.
Fear made her arms shake as she pushed up from the decking, but she wouldn’t let any of them be tortured. Not again. Instinct had her launching herself at Drake, making a grab for the weapon. Drake shook her off, throwing her at Resler. The brute caught her around her waist, arms like steel cables. Luckily, the man was still unsteady on his injured leg. She swung her feet and kicked against Carnage’s cage. Unable to balance her shifting weight, Resler dropped her.
Pain radiated up through her hip. Damn! What had she been thinking? She knew she couldn’t take on both Drake and Resler.
Staying low, she reengaged her brain and scrambled past them. Mercury’s snarls rang in her ears as she dashed through the hatch. She ran through the halls, slamming blast doors closed behind her to give herself time when they came after her. And they would. She’d make sure of it.
When she reached the pilot’s station, she threw herself down into the seat. Still panting for breath, she hooked her feet under the bar beneath her chair as her fingers flew across the controls. The Dove’s environmental system and grav-generators faltered in response. Anything that wasn’t tied down tumbled across the deck, then the world dropped out from under her and everything started floating, suddenly weightless.
Samantha’s lungs started to burn from the sudden drop in oxygen levels. The temporary outage might be drastic measures, but she’d promised herself she’d keep the Arena Dogs safe. Grateful for her habit of wearing her deck-boots at all times, she slogged her way back down the corridor. The moment the grav-generators came back on, she dropped to the floor. Gasping for breath, she counted the seconds until the oxygen levels normalized.
She needed Drake to believe she’d dropped on the way to the controls, that she hadn’t yet made it to the pilot’s station, so she pulled her body around until she lay face down as if she’d dropped on the way forward. That done, she lay there, gulping air, and waited.
After a few minutes it got easier to breath and the darkness at the edges of her vision receded. The sound of boots stomping toward her echoed along the corridor like the thu
mping pistons of a transgalaxy engine.
Drake lifted her up and set her on her feet. “What in hell was that?”
“Told you.” She panted, exaggerating for effect. “Environmental contols are acting up. Help me get to the pilot station so I can take a look.”
Lifting her arm over his shoulder, Drake dragged her to the empty seat and shoved her into the synth-upholstered polycarb. Drake cuffed her across the side of her head and she saw stars. “Get it fixed. We don’t have time for delays.”
She tapped in a few commands then realized he still stood looking over her shoulder. “I’m trying, so lay off.”
“Get it stable,” he said. “Then we’re going to talk about your pointless stunt.”
Samantha cringed. Damn it, if he knew what she’d done—
A loud thump jerked her attention back to Drake and the fist he slammed onto the console beside her. “What in the hell were you thinking, getting between me and my Dogs?”
“I-” Samantha stuttered, unprepared for the accusation when she thought they’d caught on to something far worse. “I didn’t want to see anyone get hurt.”
“You have no fucking idea what you’re dealing with.” He paced, hands raking through untidy hair.
“I swear they must put out some kind of pheromones. Women back on Roma fall all over themselves to get at them.”
She didn’t know what to make of that, so she counted to five then tried to ratchet down the tension in the room. “Listen. Let’s calm down. I don’t have time to deal with whatever drunken craziness is sloshing around in that whiskey soaked brain. I need to deal with the ship.”
Drake’s attention fixed on Samantha with a laser focus that made her squirm in her seat.
“Your sympathy is wasted on those animals.”
Resler grunted from the corridor where he’d appeared. “Yeah, just ask that sexy brunette who tried to get cozy with Diablo. She was a knockout until he got a hold of her.” Resler used his sleeve to blot away the smudge of blood on his forehead. He must have hit his head when the ship jolted. “Maybe we should throw this one in with that devil. We could make a bet on whether he slashes her up or fucks her.”
Stealing Mercury (Arena Dogs Book 1) Page 6