“Take our victor to the blue room so that he may enjoy his spoils. Come find me when you are capable of rational thought, Baralt. I have a proposition for you.”
He grunted an assent and followed the servant out of the box.
Chapter Thirteen
Relkhei’s servant led Baralt along a wide passageway, then threw open a set of double doors to a large room overlooking an interior courtyard. Although elaborate glass mosaic tiles in multiple shades of blue covered the walls and floor, the only furniture was a large bed in the very center of the room. The tall posts at each corner of the bed were draped with golden chains.
“Put me down,” Isabel demanded as soon as the door closed behind them. “You’re hurt—”
He let her slide down his front but put a gentle hand over her mouth as he checked for listening devices. Dark eyes glared at him, but she didn’t attempt to speak until he removed his hand. As expected, he immediately picked up a signal, so he activated the jamming device in his belt, then nodded.
“I’m sorry, my aria, but I needed to make sure our conversation would not be overheard.”
“In here?” She cast a disparaging glance around the room. “Where would they put a microphone?” Her eyes widened. “They wouldn’t put one in the bed, would they?”
“That is exactly what they did. And they will hear exactly what they expect to hear.”
“That’s kind of kinky,” she said absently, her gaze focusing on the blood covering his chest. “You shouldn’t have been carrying me. How badly are you hurt?”
“Very little. The injuries were carefully chosen to bleed heavily without causing any lasting damage.”
“Chosen? You mean the fight was rigged?”
“I am not familiar with the term.”
“I mean it wasn’t a real fight. You and Varga were just pretending.”
“I assure you that we were really fighting.” He rubbed his chest. His friend had a fist like granite. “But we did agree on the final result ahead of time.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I was so worried.”
She had worried about him? He was a little insulted that she doubted his warrior skills, but her concern warmed his heart.
“I didn’t have the chance to tell you. Although I suspected that Relkhei might do something similar, I only found out what he was planning shortly before the match. But even if we had known sooner, I would not have told you,” he admitted.
“Why not?”
“Because your reactions needed to be genuine in order to fool Relkhei.”
An adorable scowl covered her face, but then she shrugged. “You’re probably right. I’ve never been much of an actress. And you’re really not hurt?”
“No.” He would be sore for a few days, and his knee ached as if a sarlag had stomped on it, but they were only minor injuries.
“You certainly did a good job of making it look painful.” She ran a cautious finger down his blood-streaked fur, and his body immediately responded to her touch. “Does this place have a bathing pool?”
“I believe it does, but we don’t have time for that now. We have to leave.”
“From here? But how?”
“As soon as Relkhei said I would have to meet you here, Varga and I started preparing. Come.”
He took her hand and led her into an attached bathroom. Also covered in blue glass tiles, one wall opened to the courtyard so that the bathing pool could extend outside. It was a beautiful space, and he saw Isabel cast a longing glance at the big pool. He would have enjoyed joining her there, but there was no time. Instead, he led her around the pool and behind a tiled partition to a small space outfitted with a wide array of bath accessories—and no door.
“Why are we here?” she asked.
“Servants’ entrance. Here, put this on.” The white bathing robe wouldn’t fool anyone for long, but from a distance, it would resemble a servant’s uniform. It was far too big for her, and the one he donned was too small, but they wouldn’t need them for long. “Quietly now.”
He found the hidden lever, and a panel slid aside to reveal a narrow stone corridor. As he’d hoped, no one was in sight. The servants were busy with the feast day celebrations—and not a few of them were indulging as well. Thank the gods Varga had provided him with a map of the network of passageways.
“Just a second.” Isabel darted away before he could stop her, then returned almost immediately with a wet towel. “Wipe off as much of the blood as you can. It’s too obvious.”
“I’m not exactly inconspicuous under any circumstances,” he said dryly as he obeyed. Hothians were rarely seen away from Hothrest, and his size invariably attracted scrutiny.
“No, but blood always attracts additional attention.”
“You are correct as always, my aria.”
He thrust the bloodied towel behind a stack of clean ones, then gave her a quick hug, keeping her close to his side as they entered the passageway. The cramped utilitarian space was a striking contrast to the luxury they had left behind, and he had to duck his head to avoid scraping it on the rough ceiling. But it was deserted and leading them in the direction they needed to go, and that was all that mattered.
He set a rapid pace, knowing that Isabel was half running to keep up, but time was short. He had no doubt that Relkhei had other plans for them, and he wanted to be long gone before the fight master discovered they were missing. As they reached the more populated section of the complex, he came to a halt. This would be the most difficult part.
“The kitchen and the servants’ dining hall are ahead. They should be too busy to notice us if we move quickly and quietly along the wall. Just walk like you belong there. We’re heading for the outer door. If Varga was successful, more robes will be waiting for us there.”
“Then what?”
“We blend in with the feast day crowd and head for the spaceport.”
“What if someone tries to stop us?”
“Then I will eliminate them.” He was quite serious, but from the way Isabel smiled and patted his arm, he suspected she didn’t believe him. The gods willing, she would never have to find out the extent to which he was willing to go to protect her.
He took a quick peek around the corner and saw the situation was as he had hoped. The kitchen area was a bustle of activity between the ongoing demand for refreshments and the preparation for the banquet later that night. There were several groups of unoccupied servants in the area closer to them, but they appeared to be either drinking or gambling. A large screen in one corner was displaying the latest fight.
“Stay between me and the wall,” he ordered Isabel, then strode confidently along the edge of the room toward the exit. No one paid them any attention until they were almost to the door, then a voice hailed them. He didn’t recognize the name they called out, but he threw up a casual hand and kept walking. To his relief, the male who had tried to get his attention slumped back down with his drink.
There was a small vestibule next to the door where their clothes should be waiting. He hurried Isabel into the room, breathing a sigh of relief once the hall was behind them. Several robes hung from hooks to one side of the door, but he recognized the small markers that Varga had told him would indicate their disguises.
He urged Isabel to remove the bathing robe, quickly replacing it with a dark traveling robe. After fastening it around her, he showed her how to arrange the scarf so it would cover her dark curls and most of her face, hiding her distracting beauty. As soon as she was concealed, he fastened his belt around his waist, donned his own robe and arranged his scarf. Thank the gods that Varga had found a robe large enough to conceal him. His size would always make him visible, but the robe would help him blend in.
“Are you ready, my aria?”
All he could see were her eyes, but he could read both fear and determination. She gave a quick nod.
“All will be well,” he promised and opened the door.
Chapter Fourteen
Izzie blinked in s
hock at the sudden increase in light and noise. The door opened onto a pedestrian side street, but even here a wide variety of aliens scurried past, most of them dressed in some version of the robes she and Baralt were wearing. The hot, dry desert air rushed into the room, accompanied by the scent of spices and food and exotic perfumes. The buzz of a dozen different languages mingled with the sound of peddlers hawking their wares and excited comments from electronic devices transmitting the fight.
She was still staring when Baralt urged her gently outside. A faint scream alerted her to a merchant rushing by with trays of food stacked as high as his head. She jumped back only to be almost sideswiped by a three-legged alien on something that bore a strong resemblance to a tricycle, also balancing trays, these filled with shiny red cubes that looked like jeweled candies.
Baralt tugged on her hand, reminding her that she needed to concentrate on getting away rather than staring at her surroundings. She let him tuck her against his side as they braved the constant flow of traffic. They made it safely to the bottom of the street only to find the broad avenue even busier. Larger vehicles fought for passage, but even they were slowed by the overwhelming throng of people. Baralt eyed one, then shook his head.
“I thought that the speed of a hired vehicle might outweigh the risk of being tracked, but I do not believe they are moving any faster than we can.”
“How far is it?”
“I could do it in fifteen minutes under normal circumstances. I expect it will take twice as long—due to the crowd,” he added hastily.
“We won’t get there any faster by standing here talking about it. Let’s go.”
Together they waded into the mob of people. It only took her a few steps to realize that without Baralt, she wouldn’t have been able to make her way through the crowd at all. People surrounded them, drinking, eating, stopping to buy odd little tokens or to watch one of the many matches displayed on the screens that were everywhere. Baralt’s size tended to make people move out of his way, and if they didn’t, he moved them. Despite his size, she was relieved to see that there were other large aliens in the throng and he didn’t stand out. Except to her, perhaps. How was she ever going to be able to thank him for giving her the chance to be free again?
Under other circumstances, she thought she might have enjoyed the surrounding chaos. Despite the fascinating variety of life-forms, it reminded her of any large city during a holiday, and she would have been happy to have stopped at one of the little cafés to have a drink and watch the crowd. Instead, she kept a firm hold on Baralt’s arm and did her best to keep up. Several times they passed uniformed aliens, clearly some type of police, and she did her best not to cringe away from them. Each time she expected to hear whistles blowing and cuffs being placed on her wrists again. But no one gave them a second glance.
“Relax,” Baralt urged her. “I doubt Relkhei even knows that we are no longer in his rooms, and even when he discovers that you have left, I suspect that he would send his own personnel before turning to the government.”
“I’m sorry. I just keep expecting to look up and find him waiting for us.”
The crowd finally began to thin out as Baralt led them closer to the spaceport.
“There’s a ship waiting for us?” she asked as the noise lessened to the point where they could have a conversation without shouting.
“There had better be.” He shot her a quick glance. “It will not be a fancy vessel, and I suspect that the crew are not entirely legitimate, but Varga has assured me that the captain will honor our deal.”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
He hesitated for a fraction of a second. “Because you are valuable cargo, my aria. A dishonorable captain would almost certainly try and sell you. Or to keep you for his own. But I promise that you are safe with me.” He grinned at her, flashing his fangs, and she smiled back.
They resumed their walk, and with the less crowded sidewalks, Baralt picked up the pace. She suspected the same sense of urgency was driving him as well and didn’t complain even though once again she was almost running to keep up with him. They both gave a sigh of relief as they reached the spaceport.
The main terminal was surprisingly busy, but Baralt led them past it and down to a smaller commercial entrance. A few guards loitered by the doors, watching a match on a small device, and she almost panicked when one of them looked up. Baralt gave him a casual wave and kept going. She half expected to hear an outraged cry and an order to stop, but the males seemed more interested in the screen than in them.
As soon as the guards were out of sight, Baralt headed for a collection of smaller ships. The one he took her to reminded her of her old truck—it was painted blue and white, the colors faded and a little worn, and it had a squat, comfortable feel. The landing ramp was down, but the door at the top was closed and locked. She almost giggled when Baralt pressed something that looked astonishingly like a doorbell. A moment later a voice came from a panel next to the door.
“Who is it?” an impatient voice demanded—an impatient female voice.
“Baralt. Varga sent me.”
“You’re late. We’re about to leave.”
“And I strongly encourage you to do so—as soon as we are on board.”
“You have the credits?”
“Of course.”
“You better be worth it.” The door opened.
Once they were inside the small airlock, the outer door closed, and Izzie fought back a wave of panic when the inner door did not immediately open. A beam of reddish light shone down from the ceiling, washing over them, and she jumped.
“What is that?” she whispered to Baralt.
The same voice sounded from another panel. “Pest control. Just making sure you aren’t bringing any little stowaways along with you.”
She gasped. “We don’t have bugs.”
“And now I know that for sure.”
The inner door finally opened, and they passed into the interior of the ship, Izzie still glaring about the implied insult.
“It’s nothing personal,” Baralt said softly. “Varga said that Captain Glasach has some unusual tendencies.”
“I also have extremely good hearing.” This time, the voice came from a female walking toward them.
Short and a little plump, the captain carried herself with an undeniable air of authority. Her crisp blue-and-white uniform looked as if it had been starched, and her blue fur was neatly groomed, not a hair out of place.
“I am Captain Glasach. You have the second half of the credits?”
Baralt took a small device from the captain and tapped out a number. The device whirred, and Izzie flinched sympathetically when a small needle took a sample of his blood. A second later the device beeped, and the captain smiled.
“Confirmed. I guess we are taking you to Hothrest. This way.”
The captain led them deeper into the ship. Like the outside, everything looked a little worn, but everything was spotlessly clean—almost too clean. At the top of a flight of stairs, the captain slid open a door panel to reveal a small cabin.
“This is yours for the trip. Private sanitary facility attached. Either Kamat or I will prepare one meal per day shift. You’re on your own for the others. Help yourself to whatever you want in the galley and clean up after yourselves.” She looked Baralt up and down. “But don’t overdo it. The food has to last until we reach Hothrest. The cargo hold is off-limits, and so are the crew quarters, but other than that, you’re free to move around once we are in flight. And speaking of flight, I’m going to go get us off this hellhole.”
With a quick nod, she left. Baralt gestured to the cabin door. “After you, my aria.”
Chapter Fifteen
“I’m afraid it’s a little small,” Baralt said apologetically as he followed Izzie into the cabin.
He was right. A bunk occupied one wall, with storage lockers above and below. On the other wall, a small table and two chairs were fitted beneath a viewport. The door at the far end presum
ably led to the sanitary facility. But despite the limited size, it was spotlessly clean, and she had no complaints.
“It’s larger than I’m used to,” she murmured, remembering her cage with a shudder. “But I wouldn’t care if it was a box as long as we’re leaving.”
As she spoke, there was a distant roar, and she jumped.
“What’s that?”
“The engines. Captain Glasach isn’t wasting any time.”
Izzie felt the metal surface beneath her feet vibrate, followed by a slight sense of pressure. Baralt had his head cocked to one side, listening, and he finally sighed and smiled down at her.
“That’s it. We should be out of the atmosphere now, and the captain hasn’t sounded an alarm.”
“You mean we really did it? We’re free?”
“Yes, my aria. Tgesh Tai is behind us now.”
Too overcome with emotion to speak, she stood on tiptoe and threw her arms around his neck. He responded by lifting her into his arms, and still reeling with happiness, she leaned over and kissed him. His lips were soft and full and surprisingly human—well, except for the sharp fangs that bracketed them—but he didn’t respond to the brief caress. She drew back to find him staring at her.
“What was that?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
“It’s called a kiss. Do your people not kiss?”
“No. Our fangs prevent our mouths from mating like that.”
He still looked shocked, and she could feel her cheeks heat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t upset me. It was remarkably…pleasant. Would you kiss me again?”
A little embarrassed, she leaned forward and brushed her lips across his. He shivered, and a sudden impulse drove her to run her tongue along his bottom lip, carefully avoiding his fangs. This time, he groaned. Thrilled by his response, she took advantage of his parted lips and dipped inside. Oh my. He tasted delicious, and his tongue slipped against hers with silken ease.
Izzie and the Icebeast: A Scifi Alien Romance (Alien Abduction Book 9) Page 9