by Reagan Woods
She closed her eyes against the intense dry heat as it slid over her face and fought not to cringe away from it. Finally, the blessedly cool air of the ship washed over her. Nora cracked an eyelid cautiously. “It’s done?”
Neither alien deigned to answer. Instead, Lyon, his expression one of grim appraisal, tapped the screen he studied. Zocan’s long strides ate the distance between them and he snatched her off her feet.
“Hey!” She protested, smacking a hand against his shoulder.
He paid her no mind, carting her the few steps to the mattress and tossing her down on her back.
“Humph! Ouch,” she exclaimed, rolling like a turtle on its shell as he held her legs down and peeled off her treasured new boots. “What are you doing?!?” She turned angry eyes on Lyon as he approached. “He’s gone crazy! Help me!”
“Your right boot has a long-range tracking device embedded in it,” Lyon replied seriously, setting the scanner aside and taking the proffered boot from Zocan’s outstretched hand.
Using both hands, Nora pushed futilely against Zocan’s other hand where it pressed against her chest, keeping her flat against the mattress. “Fine,” she griped. “Take the damned boot but let me up! Dios mio! I would have given you the damned thing if you’d asked.”
He released her only to slide a shiny box from his belt and pass it to Lyon. Lyon flicked his wrist and the box opened into a wicked-looking switch blade. “Oh God, no!” She moaned, covering her eyes as he sliced into the buttery soft material, rending it from top to bottom. Peeking out from between her fingers, she lamented, “I just got these boots! Do you have any idea how much it sucks to run around barefoot on these cold floors?”
Lyon quirked a white-gold brow at her as he loomed above her, turning a pea-sized piece of metal between his fingers. “Shouldn’t you be professing your innocence and begging for your life rather than worrying about chilly feet?”
Nora balled her hands into fists and tucked them safely into her lap so she wouldn’t pop either idiot male in the face. With faux patience, she explained, “I didn’t have that little gadget stuffed up my ass and we both know it, so it had to come with the boots you all gave me.”
Zocan, still sitting incredibly close, shot her one of his breathtaking smiles letting her know her sarcasm hadn’t missed its mark. “Up your ass? How intriguing.”
“Shut up.” She pushed to her feet, shoving Lyon back so she could face them on more equal terms. “Natar brought the boots to me with the clothes. Where did they come from?”
“I acquired them,” Zocan answered swiftly, kicking his own long legs out and reclining back on his hands atop the mattress. “I’m quite certain there was no tracking device in them when I liberated them.”
Nora held out her hand to Lyon and he passed her the small, hard ball. Holding it up to the light, she examined the dull surface. “This isn’t, like, some sort of theft-prevention device installed by the merchant?”
“Definitely not,” Lyon answered. “It was transmitting a strong signal, but the wave-length is long enough to avoid most standard detection scans.”
“Weird,” was her conclusion. “So did one of Vrenti’s guys sneak it in or…?”
“That’s the question.” Zocan nodded once sharply before pushing to his feet. “I’ll see about finding a Lyaran language tutorial in my archives for you. In the meantime, I suppose you’ll have to be confined to this cabin.”
Lyon didn’t appear to like Zocan’s declaration any more than she did, but he didn’t argue.
“I’ll code the lock,” Lyon grunted as they retreated.
Nora said nothing as she watched the door slide shut behind them. This getting backed into a corner stuff was getting old. Fast.
Every time she tried to be a team player, someone or something slapped her back. She was knee-deep in a deadly serious game and she felt like the only player without a rule book. There had to be a way to play catch-up before she lost her life.
Chapter 35
“You can’t seriously th-.”
Zocan cut Lyon off with a sharp, “Ssst.” His skin stretched tight over his body, and he felt edgy.
They were walking down the hall away from the cabin - and an unhappy Nora - toward the bridge. They couldn’t know if Natar and Z’cari were monitoring their conversation, but they needed to sort a few things out between them. With the translation system running in every area of the ship, it was more than possible that the pair could keep tabs on everything happening on the ship without any overt effort.
If Natar and Z’cari were listening, they knew that Zocan and Lyon had located the homing beacon in Nora’s boot. Natar’s vehement belief in Nora’s guilt would boil over. Z’cari, though seemingly less rabid about Nora, would stand by his mate.
Even Zocan had to admit she was an enigma. She struggled to operate the admittedly complex tech used to pilot the ship; however, her story of escaping the Doranos, Jorkan, wasn’t possible if she couldn’t fly. Despite that and other conflicts, something about her made him want to believe her.
Zocan didn’t know if he could trust his instincts where Nora was concerned. He knew Lyon was incapable of impartiality in the matter. His mate already wanted to scoop her up and take her straight to the Lyaran enclave where she would be coddled in the bosom of their people.
Until he was certain Lyon could be rational about the female, Zocan would have to reason his way through the situation alone. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that Natar and/or Z’cari had planted the homing device on Nora. Why the mated pair would aid and abet the Emperor Hash-Hanwas another puzzle. He was the mortal enemy of all Lyarans. Yet, the two had been away from civilized people for a very long time. It was hard to say how that affected their loyalties.
His temples throbbed and he knew he would face an epic migraine soon. He wanted to sit everyone down and demand answers, but he knew that would make him appear weak and uncertain. He couldn’t afford that.
“Hold up a moment, love,” Lyon murmured, an insistent hand encircling Zocan’s wrist.
Zocan stopped. Deliberately, he relaxed his tense shoulders before turning a carefully neutral face to his partner. Now was not the time to argue and he was certain Lyon was going to force the issue, to demand that Nora be released, et cetera.
“Wait here a moment. Please.” He released Zocan after a quick squeeze of fingers and jogged away down the hall.
Zocan didn’t wonder where he’d gone for long before Lyon’s brisk bootsteps announced his return. “What’s all this?” He asked as Lyon unfolded a fist to present a small, clear pressure syringe.
“Headache remedy from the supply closet,” he answered with a wry smile. “I can see it brewing from here, darling.” He paused. His golden eyes seemed to see more than Zocan wanted to reveal. “Works quickest when it goes in the carotid,” he advised gently, pressing the capped syringe into Zocan’s limp hand. “But I won’t insist.”
When Zocan merely studied the syringe, Lyon rocked back on his heels with a grimace. “Much.”
Zocan uncapped the syringe and expelled the contents into the thick artery in his neck. The drug worked immediately, and he let out a sigh. “Thank you.” He took a breath. “I know you think I’m being harsh,” he began.
“I don’t think that,” Lyon interrupted, bracing his hands on both of Zocan’s shoulders so they stood eye to eye. “I think you’re doing your level best to keep everyone – the remnant of our civilization, old friends and new - alive and well.” Lyon squeezed hard, his hands sliding down Zocan’s arms to his elbows. “Remember that you’re not alone in this. I am right here with you as I have always been.”
“You’re right, of course.” Zocan slid his hands so they interlocked with Lyon’s. “But this is delicate. We can’t behave emotionally.”
Lyon’s mouth quirked in a knowing half smirk. “Yet our emotions are involved.”
“I fear yours are,” Zocan admitted with a frown.
The smile on Lyon’s face was
blinding white and wholly unexpected. “And you’re stone. Of course, darling.” He turned and put an arm around Zocan as they walked the rest of the way to the steps leading up to the flight deck. “Whatever you need to tell yourself is fine with me.”
“She’s unsuitable,” Zocan muttered stiffly as they began the ascent. “Bedraggled, ignorant. A savage, really.”
“Yes, obviously,” Lyon replied cheerfully, stomping loudly enough to make their imminent arrival on the bridge obvious to anyone within three systems. “Let’s not forget that she might be trying to murder us all.”
It sounded preposterous when said aloud as Lyon had probably known it would. There was no time to argue the point, so Zocan tucked the statement away for future reflection and prepared to face Natar’s displeasure. No matter what was said or what kind of emotions were piqued, Zocan had no intention of getting rid of Nora.
Lyon stopped their forward progress, his beloved face swooping tantalizingly close. “Promise me something,” he whispered earnestly.
“If I can,” Zocan hedged, knowing what his mate was about to ask and unprepared to deal with the emotional commitment.
“If she is innocent – which you know she is – we will ask her to be ours,” Lyon pressed, his mouth unsmiling, eyes burning.
“I’m not there, yet,” he answered honestly. “I need to deal with the situation at hand – and I need you to help me do it.” He put a bracing hand on Lyon’s thick shoulder as his face fell. “I am nothing without you. The restoration of Lyara is not worth fighting for if I don’t have your support – fully and without distraction.”
“You’ll always have it, my king,” he answered without hesitation. “I humbly ask you to give my request due consideration. I know you are half in love with her, as it is.”
“And I know you’ve been completely besotted with her since you first laid eyes on her,” Zocan answered with a small smile. “Let’s secure the ship and make certain we have a future to offer her before we drag her into our mess.”
“Alright,” Lyon agreed quietly. “Let’s get this done.”
Instead of finding Natar frothing at the mouth, they found only a troubled Z’cari when they stepped onto the flight deck.
“Where is your mate?” Lyon asked as he and Zocan walked until they stood several steps behind the stool where Z’cari sat. His screens were set to monitor the surrounding space, but he paid them only the minimum of attention.
Z’cari turned on his stool and ran a hand over his scarred face. “I sent him to our cabin to rest. He was…upset.”
Zocan took a deep breath and looked Z’cari in the eye. “After you left the meeting, Nora volunteered for another scan, a deeper one than we’d subjected her to before.”
“That was kind of her,” Z’cari said wearily. “Perhaps the knowledge that she volunteered will put Natar’s mind at ease.”
Lyon slid closer to the console and eased a hip against it. “Not likely,” he said, his nonchalant tone at odds with his tensely crossed arms and balled fists. “We found a tracking device just as he suspected.”
Z’cari spun on his stool, bloodshot eyes wheeling as his gaze bounced between Lyon and Zocan. “But…but she volunteered? She had to know you’d find the device.”
“If she knew it was there. Perhaps Natar will tell us why he suspected Nora? That might help us determine what to do with her,” Zocan suggested, trusting that his neutral expression would fool Z’cari better than it had Lyon.
“Maybe,” Z’cari agreed reluctantly. “He hasn’t exactly been rational. What kind of device was it? Where did you find it?”
“It was a long-range wave device and it was in her boot,” Lyon answered succinctly.
Z’cari pulled absently at his shoulder-length hair. “Vrenti’s team could have accessed our bags at some point?” he offered doubtfully.
“We can’t dismiss the possibility,” Zocan agreed diplomatically, intrigued by the spark of panic that lit Z’cari’s eyes.
“The lizards were all over her on the walk across the docks,” Z’cari spoke rapidly. “Maybe one planted it then?”
Lyon drew Z’cari’s attention with a pat on the shoulder. “I like to think I would have seen that, but…well, there was clearly a device in the lining of her boot.”
“In the lining…” Z’cari trailed off, his scarred mouth flattening grimly. He looked Zocan directly in the eye but dipped his head in deference. “I hope you’ll be lenient with the female. We’re alive and they – whoever was in that ship – aren’t. Nora might not have even been aware of what she was doing. I can’t really believe...”
“It is difficult to believe such a thing of the frightened female we found, but she did manage to overcome the criminals who accessed the priest’s ship,” Zocan pulled at his lower lip as though mulling the situation over. He looked over at Lyon. “Disable the translation system.”
Lyon immediately crossed to another workstation and began the process.
Z’cari’s brow winged up, but he waited for Zocan to explain, “If she can’t understand what we’re saying, she can’t pass the information along.”
“Isolating her like that seems harsh,” he protested, a deep frown marring his golden brow. “We don’t know that she’s guilty or that she has the means to distribute anything she might learn.”
“If she’s going to remain with us – which I believe we are agreed upon?” He waited for Z’cari’s curt nod before continuing, “We will need to make sure she doesn’t have access to anything outside of the cabin until we are convinced of her innocence. Either I or Lyon will try to be with her for the bulk of the time. We will minimize her opportunities to betray us.”
They fell silent. For a few moments the only sound came from the low hum of the ship’s engines and the occasional beep from the monitoring systems. Lyon continued to work quietly at his station, but Zocan knew he was attuned to the darkening atmosphere.
Finally, the moment came when the obvious question had to be asked and answered. Somehow.
“What about the settlement?” Z’cari wanted to know. “Natar and I don’t even have exact coordinates. We can’t risk taking her there until we’re sure of her. I mean, this is bigger than you and I wanting to be among our own kind after so much time away. We can’t just…”
“Agreed,” Zocan said. “We need to focus on the next steps which are to attempt a back-trace on the device and determine if anyone else is following us. Once we’ve done that, we can destroy the beacon and work out a plan for evading our enemies.”
“You look exhausted,” Lyon inserted smoothly, assessing gaze on Z’cari. “Why don’t you go relax? You or Natar can take over flight duty after you’ve rested a while.”
Z’cari rose, his posture dejected. “I think I shall. Thank you.”
After he left, Zocan watched Lyon pull out the tracking device and insert it into a scan port to attempt to duplicate the signal. The painstaking process gave him the time he needed to order his thoughts.
Lyon caught his gaze when he looked up. “Z’cari is upset,” he murmured.
“He is,” Zocan agreed. “But is he upset because we won’t be going to the colony for the foreseeable future? Or is it something else?”
“He might know more than he’s letting on,” Lyon rocked back on his stool and scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “He suspects Natar had a hand in putting the bug in Nora’s boot and he isn’t sure what to think of it.”
“That’s my take, too,” Zocan admitted. “But what can we do about it? It’s a stretch to accuse a heretofore loyal Lyaran of such treasonous action without proof.”
“We have to wait and watch. As you pointed out, we take the next steps.”
Zocan felt the seconds passing like the countdown before an explosion. The ‘next steps’ on a ship like this might take a few days or a few weeks. He was a patient Lyaran, but the lack of a clear direction was grating on him already.
Chapter 36
One Month Later
&n
bsp; Nora stared at the stranger reflected in the sonishower’s round walls. Her body was thickening once more, filling her skin and covering over the hollows that were the result of rapid starvation. Never again would she have her pleasantly rounded curves or the soft, pretty skin of a twenty-year-old.
In place of her voluptuous curves she was growing muscle. It didn’t have the appeal of the ultra-feminine body the other women in the work camp had envied, but she couldn’t think about that now. Instead, she focused on the future and preparing herself, body and mind, for whatever was to come.
A dispassionate inventory showed that her shoulders were now sculpted, her breasts lacked their previous perky bounce, but they sat full and proud over a narrow waist that sported six-pack abs. Her ass was high and round and strong. The long legs God had blessed her with were toned to a degree she hadn’t believed possible. She looked like an ass kicker.
Her eyes remained the dark, chocolatey brown they’d always been but there were faint lines fanning out from them now. Once, her cheeks had been full, her face rounded with youth, and her mouth had always felt ready to smile despite the blow of losing her family and landing in the work camp. The woman who stared back at her had razorblades for cheekbones and a hollow-eyed, hungry leanness about her that wasn’t just physical.
These changes to her body were a blow to her vanity, but they weren’t nearly as hard to accept as the travesty that had become of her hair. Like her dusky skin, the glow of health was slowly returning to her locks. When she’d discovered that the privacy function on the sonishower turned the tube into a disturbingly thorough three-hundred-sixty-degree mirror, she’d cried. Then, she’d taken the razor Lyon had given her and fashioned a long-ish pixie-cut.
Fluffing her bangs with her fingers helped as did smoothing the longer pieces down the back of her neck, but the jagged cut was a far cry from the luxurious, glossy waist-length curls she’d had.