by Presley Hall
“We’ll get drinks,” I murmur softly to her, guiding us toward the bar. “We need to look like we fit in, like we’re just here to have a good time.”
She snorts softly at that, and I can guess exactly what she’s thinking—that’s the last thing either of us are here for.
I order drinks for us both, knowing that Brooke won’t have the slightest idea what any of this is. The bartender, a short, stocky alien with greenish skin and eye-stalks that swivel, glances at me curiously as he starts pouring the drinks from a clay pitcher that looks a bit grimy around the rim.
I avert my eyes, sliding a couple extra tokens across the bar to him as I pay for the drinks.
“Do you happen to know of anyone here who pilots a ship or trades goods?” I ask, as casually as I can.
The bartender makes a chirping sound as he collects the tokens, pointing to a booth farther off in the corner that’s mostly hidden in shadow. A tall, swarthy-looking alien is seated there. His features are wrinkled and scarred, with long black hair falling around his face. He’s feeling up a curvy, green-skinned alien woman in a dancer’s outfit. She doesn’t look as if she’s the slightest bit interested, although she’s tolerating his hand squeezing her breast as the other slowly makes its way up her thigh.
“That’s Gir,” the bartender says, shoving the drinks in my direction. “Talk to him.”
I hand one drink to Brooke, and she eyes it suspiciously as we walk to the booth where Gir is sitting and slide into it opposite him.
“Good evening,” I say with a smile, leaning forward. He glares at me with dark eyes, his hand still firmly on the green-skinned alien woman.
“What in the hells do you want?” Gir snarls, plainly irritated at being interrupted. “Can’t you see I’m busy here?”
I smile charmingly, opening my mouth to respond, but he raises his eyebrows as if he’s suddenly figured it out on his own.
“Wait—I know,” he says, the irritated frown on his face deepening. “Did Vortax send you? Come to shake me down a little, find out what’s coming in next so he can get the jump on those goods?” Gir spits on the floor, narrowly missing the alien girl’s leg. “I’ve had quite enough of him, let me tell you—”
“No one sent us,” I interrupt sharply. “We need help finding a ship to take us off planet.”
Gir’s eyebrows go up again at that.
“Take a walk,” he snaps to the alien woman, who shrugs and slides off the bench. As she turns to walk away, Gir slaps her hard on the ass, licking his lips as he watches her firm flesh shake and darken from the smack. I feel Brooke tense next to me, and I don’t blame her. I don’t enjoy seeing this alien manhandle the woman either, even if she is probably used to it, working here in the saloon.
As if to prove that last point, the woman doesn’t so much as glance back at him, disappearing into the crowd.
“A ride, you say? What makes you think I can supply that? I don’t deal in passengers. I deal in cargo.” Gir slouches back in the booth carelessly, taking a deep swig of his drink and wiping the droplets sloppily off his lips with the back of one hand.
I frown. “I think you deal in more than just boxes and crates, my friend. I’m not ignorant of what’s trafficked on Nierra.”
Gir laughs. “Right. You think I care if you know?” He looks at me with affected disinterest, although I see his gaze flicker over the strip of exposed bronze skin at the collar of my coat and the lumps of my horns beneath my hood. “Yes, I smuggle slaves. Got to make a living, and it’s a rough universe out there. Morals don’t pay the bills, you know?”
He laughs again, and I feel my expression harden for a second before I force myself to smile congenially. I hate having to deal with scum like this, to barter with them or give them a single one of my tokens. But getting Brooke off this planet is the most important thing now, even if it means having to bargain with less-than-savory aliens.
“Why should I give you a ride?” Gir crosses his arms, and his attention flicks to Brooke, who’s doing her best to stay hidden within her bulky clothes. “Where do you want to go?”
“I’ll tell you the destination once a deal is made,” I reply flatly.
The last thing I need is for him to go asking around and find out that not long ago, more of my people were here setting slaves free. I have no doubt that, bargain or no bargain, he’d go running to the better payday that Savyiek would give him if he realized who Brooke and I are—and what we could be worth. Although I don’t necessarily think Gir is all that intelligent, a certain amount of cunning and street smarts are required to survive as a smuggler in a place like this.
As well as a definite lack of a moral code.
“So I should take you on as passengers without even knowing where I’m expected to go?” Gir makes a face of exaggerated shock at that, staring at me as if I’ve grown a second set of horns. “What if I’m not going in that direction?”
“Then you’ll change your plans.” I smile evenly at him, my jaw clenched tight. “You’ll be paid well if you’re able to give us a ride off planet. And I know that in the end, it’s money that charts your course.”
Gir considers for a moment, looking between the two of us as he licks his thick lips before taking a swig of his drink.
“Come on,” he says finally, standing up from the table and glancing around surreptitiously. “We shouldn’t talk about this where anyone can listen in on our conversation. Follow me.”
I tense a little, narrowing my eyes at him. He’s got a point about keeping our discussion secret, but still, I don’t trust this alien at all. Brooke must feel the same way, because she moves nearer to me as we follow him toward the back door of the saloon.
“Stay close,” I whisper to her as we follow the black-haired alien. “Be ready for trouble, if there is any.”
I have a bad feeling that there is absolutely going to be trouble.
13
Brooke
My heart pounds heavily in my chest as Zhori and I follow Gir to the back exit of the saloon. I’m hoping, just like I know Zhori is, that this alien can help us. But I’ve felt uncomfortable with him since the moment we sat down—not just because of the way he was treating the dancer that was practically in his lap, but because of his entire demeanor.
Everything about him feels slimy and off-putting, although I guess I should hardly be surprised. This whole place makes me nervous, more so than almost anywhere else I’ve been on Nierra. The saloon is chock-full of sketchy-looking aliens with hardened expressions and dangerous demeanors. I don’t know what sort of business deals they’re doing or what their purpose is here, but I don’t trust a single one of them.
This is a planet that openly holds slave auctions, that caters to the worst urges of any being in the universe, and does so without apology or shame. I have no doubt that pretty much everyone here is involved in things that would horrify me.
Zhori pulls me closer, and I lean into his embrace, grateful for the shelter of his muscular body as we step out into the cold.
“Stay alert,” he whispers. “But remember, I’m here with you. I’ll keep you safe.”
The words are reassuring, soothing me a little as we step out into the dank, dimly lit alleyway outside of the saloon. Gir stands in the shadows, but enough light falls over his face when he turns around that I can see his hard stare as he looks at Zhori, then at me, a mercenary glint in his eye.
“I know you’re up to something shady,” he says with flinty satisfaction. “No one would come to me if they could take an actual passenger ship, one where you have to present identification and put your name on the rolls. Only the ones who are desperate want me to take them off this planet. Especially when I spend a great deal of my time bringing stock here.” His gaze runs over me, leaving no doubt as to what kind of stock he’s talking about. He grins wolfishly, turning his attention back to Zhori. “I’ll take you to whatever planet you desire. But here’s my price.”
Zhori’s eyes go wide as Gir names his pric
e. Although I don’t have the slightest knowledge of alien currency, I can tell from his reaction that this smuggler has asked for a lot—probably far more than we can afford.
Zhori hesitates for only a second, though, and then nods crisply at Gir. “All right,” he says, his tone sharp. “We’ll pay it. But I expect that we’ll be the first stop?”
I try to stifle a gasp as I hear Zhori agree to it. Can he really pay that much?
He told me when I woke up from the healing pod that he was low on tokens. It must have cost a lot to heal my leg and get the translator implant that allows us to communicate—and since then, he’s purchased clothes, our room, and food for several days. He’s got to be almost out of tokens by now, which means the balance of the payment is going to have to be tendered once we make it to Kalix.
My stomach knots as I wonder if the king that Zhori has mentioned will be willing to help pay the smuggler for returning one of his warriors—and me—to Kalix.
Is Zhori going to be on the hook for all of this? Will he have to pay Gir out of his own pocket when we get back?
Gratitude and guilt well up in me all at once, warring with each other as I chew on my lower lip nervously. I’m having a hard time believing the lengths that Zhori seems to be willing to go to in order to get me off this planet and protect me. It’s been so long since anyone has cared about me this much, or taken such pains to make sure that I’m safe.
Gir’s eyes narrow. He seems almost as surprised as I am that Zhori agreed to the price so quickly.
“That was far too easy,” he says with a low chuckle. “You won’t survive long out here, being so naïve.”
Zhori stiffens. I can tell he doesn’t like being referred to as naïve, and it’s hardly an apt descriptor. Just because he has honor, that doesn’t make him a fool.
But Gir doesn’t notice Zhori’s reaction. He’s too pleased with himself.
“You must be very desperate, if you won’t even bother to haggle. And that means the price goes up.” The smarmy alien grins, crossing his arms as he sneers at Zhori.
I can feel Zhori tense with anger, and I can tell how hard he’s struggling to hold back the urge to throttle Gir where he stands. But of course, if he did that, we’d be back to square one.
The alien smuggler seems to consider something for a moment. His gaze flicks to me, and he licks his lips lasciviously as he looks me up and down, even though it’s only my face that’s really discernible, and barely even that in the dim light.
“I’ll be generous, since you’re so in need of my help,” he says, his gaze still fixed on me, though he’s speaking to Zhori. “I’ll get you off Nierra for the price I named before—plus one night with her.”
He nods at me, an anticipatory smile spreading over his sharply angled face as he looks back at Zhori.
My heart lurches in my chest, fear turning my blood cold. I know Zhori won’t agree to it—but what if it’s our only choice? Gir isn’t the worst looking alien I’ve seen, but the idea of going to bed with him after the way he just looked at me, especially as payment, makes me sick to my stomach. Zhori goes rigid next to me, his hand sliding to his sword hilt, and I have a feeling he’s on the verge of losing his temper entirely.
“Brooke isn’t my slave,” he tells Gir gruffly. “She’s my mate. She’s already spoken for.”
I let out a slow breath.
Please, let that be the end of it.
It’s the first time since we checked into the inn that I’ve heard Zhori refer to me that way, and I realize that some small part of me likes it.
It makes me feel safe. Protected.
Once we make it to Kalix, the ruse will be over. We’ll have no reason to spend so much time together, and I realize I’m almost sad about that. I’ve gotten used to having Zhori with me, used to his steady, warm presence. I haven’t had anyone like this in my life for a very long time.
Gir shrugs carelessly, glancing over at me with growing lust in his eyes.
“Doesn’t matter to me.” He tilts his head. “That’s the price. Mated or not, her holes will feel just the same, and my cock won’t know the difference. Maybe even better, if you’ve broken her in properly.”
Gir makes a lewd gesture, and Zhori goes absolutely still next to me, not a single muscle twitching as he stares the other alien down.
My skin crawls at Gir’s disgusting comment. It reminds me of how I felt after the Orkun abducted me, how I felt with Savyiek’s hands on me—like I’m nothing but a piece of meat, something to be toyed with and debased before being discarded.
The smuggler doesn’t even know what I look like under all this bulky clothing besides what he can see of my face, and I’m willing to bet he doesn’t care. It’s not that I’m so beautiful that he’s driven to barter for a night with me out of overwhelming desire.
It’s that he likes the power of it.
He likes knowing that he can force desperate men and women to bargain with their bodies. He gets off on knowing that he can manipulate them because they have no choice.
I don’t know if I want to turn around and run or punch Gir right in his smug, ugly face, but before I can do either of those things, Zhori lashes out with a speed that startles me.
He grabs Gir by the shoulder, shoving him up against the wall with a force that could crack bone. From the pained look on Gir’s face and the grunt he lets out, it’s injured him at least a little.
The alien man grimaces, writhing in Zhori’s grip, and swings with his free arm, punching Zhori in the gut. I imagine it must be something like punching a brick wall, but Zhori flinches from the impact, his grip on Gir loosening a little, and as quick as that—it’s a fight.
If Zhori has any disadvantage in a fight, it’s that he has honor. Gir has none, and at first, that gives him a slight edge over Zhori.
He pulls out a short knife, stabbing at Zhori’s side as he tries to duck under the Kalixian’s arm, simultaneously moving to knee him in the balls. I’ve never seen a male try that move on another before—I think there’s some kind of code about it—but Gir doesn’t seem to care. Zhori evades both strikes, but as he grabs Gir and slams him into the wall again, Gir twists his head and bites down hard on Zhori’s hand, teeth grinding as he tries to get away.
Zhori lets out a roar of pain, and I see his efforts to be fair start to slip. Gir kicks at him, catching him behind the knee and causing him to slip in the icy alley, and as he stumbles, Gir swipes at his neck, trying to cut him again with the knife.
“Watch out!” My heart leaps into my throat as I scream out a warning. Zhori looks up sharply, evading the knife by a hair before he lunges at Gir. Grabbing the smaller alien in a tight grip, he grapples him down to the frozen stones.
Gir squirms wildly beneath him as Zhori grips his wrist hard, prying his fingers open before throwing the knife aside. He kicks at Zhori, biting and squirming, and I hear Zhori let out a grunt of frustration as Gir manages to get a knee shoved into his groin.
“You suta!” Zhori snarls.
He grabs the other alien by the throat and pins him down with all of his bulk, rising up enough to drive a knee into Gir’s stomach as he throttles him. I gasp as I realize that Zhori’s temper is at its limit, and I’m suddenly very afraid that he’s going to kill Gir.
I know he’s capable of it—I saw him kill the guards.
I understand why he did that, but I also know that it could have brought more heat down on us and made things much worse. It was the reason we had to hide out for several days, and I don’t want that to happen again. I don’t want any more suspicion heaped on us. I want to get the fuck off this planet, and I know if Zhori kills Gir, it’s going to make things even harder.
“Zhori!” I scream as he slams Gir’s head against the stones, his hands tightening around the smaller alien’s throat even more.
Rushing toward him, I grab his shoulders and shake him as best as I can—shit, it’s like trying to shake a boulder—pulling him backward as my boots slide on the slippery surf
ace.
I’m nowhere near as strong as Zhori is, not even close. I know I won’t be able to move him by force, but I have to at least try. I have to do something.
And to my amazement, my touch seems to pull him out of his murderous rage. The tension in his muscles eases a little. He lets go of Gir’s throat, rocking back on his heels and into the pressure of my hands on his shoulders.
Gir moans, his eyelids fluttering as he tries to rise, and Zhori growls. His upper lip curls as he reaches forward and slams Gir’s head into the stones once more—not enough to kill him, but definitely enough to knock him out.
“Come on,” he says. His voice is rough and angry, but I know it’s not directed at me. “Let’s get out of here.”
He takes my hand, sparing one last glance at Gir before tugging me after him, his pace increasing as we hurry down the alleyway.
14
Zhori
As we stride away from Gir’s body, adrenaline is still flowing through me. My heart is pounding hard, and battle rage rushes like a current through my blood.
I want to turn around, go back, and kill Gir where he lies.
The way he looked at Brooke was disgusting. The way he spoke about her was disgusting. The way he disrespected the mate bond was disgusting—and even as a tiny voice in my head tries to remind me that Brooke isn’t really my mate, I shrug it off, the anger still surging through me on principle alone.
I feel a tiny pang in my chest at that thought, at the reminder that this is all a pretense, but it doesn’t matter. The point is that he thought it was real, and he was going to barter for a chance to take her to his bed anyway. And it doesn’t matter that I denied his offer on a pretense either—I wouldn’t have traded her to Gir for passage regardless of the fact that our mate bond is a lie.
My duty is to keep her safe, to rescue her, to protect her until I can get her back to Kalix.