by Celia Kyle
Originally, when the Queen had been built, she had four beautifully crafted shuttles, which echoed the overall design of the main ship. Only two of them remain functional, but as they bear the call letters on their hull, they are not practical for this kind of mission. Thus, the need for our somewhat shabby but immensely functional Kilgari civilian shuttle.
“Vectoring toward the Tartus central marketplace now.” I flip a few switches as we drop from cruising speed to a more modest pace. “It will not be long.”
“Good because the environmental controls in this thing are busted.” Lamira hugs herself and shivers. “I’m not wearing near enough for this.”
I frown and move to doff my coat so I may drape it over her shoulders. But Lamira raises her trick manacled hands and shakes her head.
“No way. You need to start getting into character because quite frankly you’re a terrible actor. Masters don’t consider their slaves’ comfort.”
I arch an eyebrow at her. “Terrible actor, am I?”
“Don’t be all mopey about it. Acting is essentially lying, and there’s no harm in being a bad liar, Grantian.”
“Hmph. I think I’m still offended.”
Lamira chuckles and moves her hand to her lap. “Here’s something to take your mind off of it.”
She pulls the flimsy triangle of cloth away from her crotch and spreads her legs. My eyes widen at the unimpeded view of her body, one I’ve come to know well and yet never tire of gazing upon.
“Try not to crash the shuttle.” She flips the cloth back into place flamboyantly. I return my attention to our landing vector, grinning ear to ear.
I set us down at a private lot, which charges a steep three hundred credits to let us park. It’s better to pay for one of these secure lots than to just leave our vehicle anywhere. There’s a slightly decreased chance it will be stolen in a guarded lot.
“Are you ready?” I hold my hand out and assist Lamira to her feet.
“As ready as I’ll ever be. Now remember, I’m just a slave girl, so don’t act all gooey in public.”
“I’ll do my best.”
The side panel of the shuttle slides open, and then I give a firm but nonviolent tug on Lamira’s leash. She stumbles forward, her eyes widening and a slight grin on her lips.
I try to walk casually, relaxing my normally strict posture as Lamira instructed. As we enter the crowded marketplace, a veritable canyon of shoddily built structures and open stalls, I’m a bit put off by how many male gazes are drawn to Lamira’s exposed body.
It’s all I can do not to punch them in the jaw for daring to look at her like a piece of meat.
Lamira gasps and stares at a stall that openly sells intoxicating powder made of Odex death root.
“I can’t believe that it’s so, so…”
“Blatant?” I chuckle and grip her leash a bit more tightly. “In a no man’s land like Tartus, anything and everything is for sale.”
“But—that stuff ruins people’s lives.”
“Yes, it does. But it takes a very long time to do so, thus guaranteeing clientele for at least a decade or so.”
“That’s cold blooded.”
I nod in assent. “That’s the Tartus markets.”
Lamira grows silent as I lead her past a noisy, bustling auction block. She stares at the semi-clothed women up on the block, a couple human but most made up of Alliance races. Without thinking about it, she starts walking a bit closer to my side.
“Those poor women.”
“I know. I wish we could do more to help them, but we must pick battles we can win. For now.” I silently make a vow that if at all possible I will return to the Tartus markets one day and make it a very bad day to be a slaver.
“Where are we going?”
“To a cantina.”
“Like the three we passed along the way? Why didn’t you stop in one of them?”
“They didn’t have the right… feel.” I clutch at the air with my hand. “It’s difficult to put into words, but I’ll know the right place when I see it.”
I lift my gaze, and it narrows on a large tent across the avenue, the entrance flap guarded by an Odex with a nasty skin condition, which has caused half his hair to fall out. “That’s the one.”
Lamira and I head toward the tent. When we’re a few steps from the entrance, the Odex bows his head and holds the flap open for us.
“All who enter must buy at least two drinks.”
“A two-drink minimum is most acceptable.”
I swipe my corroded, faux account credstick on his reader, giving him a little tip. He beams a gap-toothed smile and gestures for us to enter. No point in using actual credits to pay a bunch of criminal scum, and we’ll be long gone before the fraud is discovered.
The interior of the tent swirls with both heavy smoke and pulsing music. Various sapients are engaged in smoking from towering hookahs, downing large quantities of liquor, and haggling over merchandise both living and not. In the middle of the tent, surrounding the central post that supports most of its bulk, lies a segmented metal floor, one of the collapsible types. Upon its surface twirls a topless human woman, her face painted up in exotic, dramatic cosmetics as a Kilgari pounds on a drum nearby.
I claim a low table, which requires one to sit cross legged as there are no chairs. Lamira moves to sit across from me, but I yank her down across my lap with the leash.
“Do not presume to put distance between us, slave.”
I give her bottom a firm slap, causing her mostly exposed cheeks to dance. Lamira squeals and climbs over my lap to sit between me and the wall. This way she’s protected, and so is our cover.
“Now what do we do?”
I glance over at her and whisper out of the side of my mouth. “Now we wait.”
“Wait for what?”
“For him.”
I look up as an Alzhon with a crudely made cybernetic leg limps up to our table. He leans on a metal cane, and his gaze lingers on Lamira. “Greetings, friend.”
“We’re not friends, but I bid you greetings anyway.”
“True.” He gestures toward Lamira. “Might you be willing to consider selling the human girl?”
His eyes fairly sparkle with avarice.
“I’m considering it.” I try to keep my tone aloof and business-like. “I inherited her from my father, even though I already have plenty of slaves. Besides, she’s much too skinny for my liking. I prefer women to have some meat on their bones.”
“To each their own. Would you consider two thousand credits?”
I lean my head back and laugh. “No, I wouldn’t consider that at all. She’s clearly premium merchandise, and I intend to get a price ten times that amount.”
The Alzhon doesn’t seem surprised but is disappointed.
“I’d feared as much, but I thought it worth the try. If you’re looking to get top price for your merchandise, you should head to the moon of Consolation. You’ll get a premium.”
“Consolation? But that was abandoned long ago.”
The Alzhon shakes his head. “Not so. I have it on good authority.”
“Thanks, fellow. I’ll look into it.”
He hobbles away and I feel one of Lamira’s sharp elbows digging into my ribcage.
“Ow.”
“Skinny, am I?”
Uh-oh. “Ah, Lamira, I was only…”
“Relax, big guy. I’m just yanking your chain.”
I join in her laughter and then quickly stand up. “No, I am yanking on yours.” She chuckles, going with the motion and standing up as I tug on the leash. “We have the information we need. Let’s head back to the Queen.”
As we head for the exit, a pair of burly, ridged-faced Vakutans step into our path. These men aren’t the typical type of low-class scum one normally finds on Tartus. Their weapons look well maintained, and they wear class-two hard armor vests and thigh bucklers.
“Pardon me, friend.” The one who speaks is missing an eye but has neglected to put
a patch over the grotesque mass of scar tissue where it used to be. “But we’re most interested in acquiring your little delicacy there.”
He points at Lamira.
“I’m afraid she’s not for sale.”
I try to move past them, but they move to continue blocking the path. “I’m afraid we can’t take no for an answer.”
Damn. Outnumbered, and outgunned, by two members of one of the fiercest warrior races in the known galaxy.
How the hell are we going to get out of this mess?
Chapter Twenty-Five
Lamira
In most establishments, the proprietor will either call the authorities or intervene personally if it looks like a fight is about to break out—or has broken out—in their place of business. But this is Tartus and is certainly not like most places. There are no authorities to contact, and as far as breaking up the conflict goes, it looks to me like the bartender is making bets on the likely winner.
Grantian seems conflicted, frozen in a fugue state. I know in my heart he could defeat these Vakutans, formidable though they seem, but he seems reluctant. Why is that?
Then it hits me like a bolt from the blue. Of course, Grantian is reluctant to start throwing hands. He’s worried I’ll get caught in the crossfire.
“Look, horny.” The ridged-faced Vakutan with both his eyes and a slightly higher-pitched voice withdraws a credstick. “We’re not unreasonable men. You were thinking of selling her on Consolation. Right? Well, we’ll pay you ten thousand creds and save you a trip.”
Grantian’s lips peel back in a snarl and his hands rasp into fists. This is it, I think. He’s about to make these brutes sorry they ever walked into this place.
But then he snaps his gaze over to me for a brief moment and I can see he’s still stuck between thought and action.
Sooner or later, this is going to either get violent or the Vakutans are going to try and just grab me, creds or no creds. Either way is devastating to our plan and probably not in my best interest.
I look at the two Vakutan closely. They’re well-heeled for this place. Their armor and equipment doesn’t look new, but it does look premium. I’m not interested in being with anyone but Grantian, but I can use their obvious interest to my advantage. Now that Grantian is my confirmed mate—or I’m his, depending on your point of view—I can think of one surefire way to make him break out of his trance and leap into decisive action.
Unfortunately, it means doing something I would never normally consider—pretending to come onto the Vakutans.
“Oh, thank you, kind sirs.” I saunter over to the one-eyed Vakutan, who I think is the alpha of the pair, and lean against him, tracing circles on his arm with my finger. “You have no idea how bad it’s been suffering under the yoke of this ignorant brute.”
Grantian’s eyes go wide, and his nostrils start to flare. I just need to push it a little bit further.
The two Vakutans tilt their heads back and laugh uproariously, showing off rows of razor-sharp white teeth.
“It seems that your slave is eager to be free of your tyranny, Kilgari fool.”
I bat my lashes at the one-eyed Vakutan and smile seductively. “I can’t wait to be taken by a real warrior.”
High-pitched voice Vakutan leers at me, and then laughs mockingly at Grantian.
“And here I was led to believe that Kilgari are among the most proficient lovers in the galaxy, what with having two cocks and all.”
“I don’t know about all that.” I scowl down at Grantian’s crotch. “He kind of leaves me feeling limp…”
That almost does it, but not quite. But I’m in luck. The one-eyed Vakutan finally makes the error in judgment I’d been hoping for.
He reaches down and puts his arm around my naked waist.
Grantian’s eyes narrow to slits, and despite his bulk when he moves to attack, he flows like water. He twists his torso and pivots off his rear leg, hauling off with a brutal haymaker that catches the one-eyed Vakutan right on the chin.
My mouth gapes open as the one-eyed Vakutan is lifted completely off the floor by the impact. His body winds up roughly horizontal about three feet in the air before he sails out of the open tent flap and lands with a heavy thump and a long, agonized groan.
The Vakutan with the high-pitched voice isn’t taking any chances. He attempts to draw the blaster pistol at his side but Grantian steps in close and grabs his wrist, keeping the weapon in the holster.
There’s a brief struggle as the Vakutan continuously tries to break Grantian’s grip and draw his weapon but is unable to do so. Finally, he gives up the effort. With a sudden snarl, he uses his other hand to attempt to bring the knife sheathed on his thigh to bear.
Grantian breaks contact, swiftly backpedaling to avoid the first arcing slice of his adversary. The Vakutan howls savagely and wades in, putting his weapon through a complicated series of attacks while constantly changing levels and directions.
My hand flies in front of my mouth, my character forgotten for the moment as I fervently pray for Grantian’s safety. The Vakutan is so skilled, so swift and deadly. Grantian seems like he must surely be struck by that wickedly curved blade at any moment.
Then Grantian’s hand snaps up and grabs the Vakutan’s wrist. The knife halts in midair, and despite the Vakutan’s most stubborn efforts, he can’t budge the larger and stronger former Hael Hound.
Grantian brings his free limb to bear, chopping down on the inside of the Vakutan’s elbow with a rigid hand attack. He smoothly twists the Vakutan’s wrist and slides his foot behind the alien warrior’s leg. The Vakutan is knocked to his back, now with his own knife at his throat and Grantian inches from killing him.
Judging by the rage boiling in Grantian’s golden-eyed gaze, he intends to kill this man. That would only draw unwanted attention to us.
“Grantian, no, stop.” I put my hands on his shoulders. “Please, stop. You don’t have to kill him.”
“He touched my mate.” Grantian speaks through gritted teeth. Spittle flies from his mouth and spatters on the Vakutan’s face. The helpless man tries fighting back, but from such a vulnerable position and facing a much larger foe, he doesn’t stand a chance of budging that knife from his neck.
“I know. I’m sorry I did that to you. I was just trying to get you to, to unleash the beast. But we’re safe now, okay? You can let him up.”
Grantian’s gaze snaps over to me, and for a moment I’m taken aback at just how much rage and hatred is there. But then he seems to recognize me, recognize his jalshagar, and his gaze softens.
He gives the knife handle one final shove, but instead of driving the wicked blade into the Vakutan’s throat, he angles it so it winds up imbedded several inches in the sandy floor of the cantina. It was close, though. The Vakutan bleeds from a red line on his skin, superficial but a reminder of how close he was to death.
“Come.” Grantian takes my hand, apparently no longer concerned with maintaining our disguises. I run after him as best I can, though there are problems. For one, my metal bra offers no support and the girls slap painfully against my ribcage. For another, the stupid leash just keeps getting in the way and threatening to trip me, so I try to snag it in my free hand.
We rush through the market toward the lot holding our shuttle, my breath coming in ragged gasps. No pursuit seems imminent, but I can’t blame Grantian for not wanting to take chances.
When we at last reach the lot and make it inside the shuttle, he turns a glower on me that could peel paint.
“That was… that was…. that was uncalled for.”
“I’m sorry.” I stand on my toes to kiss him on his cheek. “It was a crisis and I took steps to activate my most powerful field asset.”
His glower fades before being replaced by a wide grin. Grantian draws me into him and kisses me deeply.
“I love it when you talk all tactical.”
One thing leads to another, and let’s just say it’s a good thing my costume is so easy to remove.
>
Chapter Twenty-Six
Grantian
“Shouldn’t we brief Solair and Varia?” Lamira speaks, but I barely register her words. I just push her back against the wall of the shuttle’s cargo bay, my hands tearing what little clothes she has off her body. I take a step back then, allowing my eyes to wander over her naked body, and my boiling blood immediately rushes between my legs. It doesn’t matter how many times I get to see her like this.
It always feels like the first time.
“That can wait,” I reply in a low growl. Closing the distance between us, I return my hands to her body and enjoy the way they travel over her naked skin.
I lean in and suck her right nipple into my mouth, barely able to control myself, twirling my tongue around it as its flavor coats my tongue.
“Yes,” she whispers, voice brimming with desire. “We can definitely brief them later.”
Matching my eagerness, she places one hand between my legs and flattens her palm against my body, somehow making me even harder than I already am. No, fuck that. I don’t think I’ve ever been as hard as I am right now. I can’t even think straight. Every single thought I have is scattered and lost.
The only thing I know is that I need to have her.
To see her flirting with those fucking Vakutans really messed me up, and I’m still fired up about the whole thing. I know it was only a ruse, a way she found to snap me out of that daze, but it was enough to drive me crazy. I was more than ready to kill those bastards just because they looked at her the wrong way. No one gets to treat her like that and expect to survive the day. The only reason those bastards are still alive is Lamira. She stopped me right before I could send them both into the afterlife.
“You’re the only one I want,” she tells me, her voice already turning into a slight moan. It’s almost as if she can read my mind. Then again, I didn’t exactly hide how I was feeling. My rage was as obvious as it could be. “You know that. Don’t you?”
I do, I want to say, but the words leaving my mouth aren’t those.
