by Mina Carter
Isan nodded. “There are many reports in the historical record of that. Males being fascinated by a particular female's voice. It caused a feud between the L’Nirak and the B’Kaar a couple of centuries ago when one of them stole the intended mate of the other.”
“Yeah… I heard about that,” a warrior piped up from the back of the room. “Didn’t the female end up mating the first warrior’s litaan in the end anyway? Mate marks and everything.”
“Yeah.” Isan turned his head and nodded again. “Sometimes that happens with litaan… they form a bond with the same female. It’s very rare though.”
“Don’t humans have female litaan pairs?” someone else asked, and everyone turned to Isan and Fenriis. Of them all, they’d had the most contact with humans or with information about humanity.
“Apparently so,” Fenriis confirmed. “Amanda’s daughters are litaans. I think she had another child as well, but I don’t know which gender or where that child is now.”
There was an awed gasp at the revelation. Not only did it prove that Amanda was fertile, but it solidified her status as a mother of highly prized females.
“I’d kill to have a pair of female litaans bond to me that way,” came the voice from the back and Isan turned with a bark of laughter.
“Face like yours, Keri, you’d barely manage to attract a couple of Krynassis. And they’d probably want a refund!”
The group devolved into chuckles and friendly banter thrown Keri’s way. Fenriis managed a small smile, which faded as one of the warriors, Tolath, turned around and fixed him with a steely gaze.
“So… we will find this one for you. Then go back down to the surface and collect females for us all.”
Draanth. The room went so silent Fenriis could have heard a pin drop in the corridors outside as he became the focus of every male in the room. He understood their need. He really did. For most of them, Amanda was the first female they’d seen for years, for some ever, and they were just outside orbit of a planet teeming with women. Just one trip to the surface and every one of them could have a female. Every single one.
He knew the rumblings, knew that some in the ranks had already begun to question why they hadn’t already done that. Questioned why they were all still lonely, without the blessing of female companionship when those females were within easy reach…
If he wasn’t careful, he’d have a mutiny on his hands.
“We cannot. The emperor himself has forbidden it. Humanity are under his protection even if they are idiots. But,” he said quickly. “The emperor has indicated that he wishes to be part of the negotiations with the humans, and I am sure the matter of females will be brought up. If you ask my opinion the warriors that are here, on protective duty, will be the first to benefit from anything that is decided on that matter.”
At that moment, a new warrior approached the group.
“We have a hail from the humans' ship,” he told Fenriis, his expression grim and unimpressed. News of their human guests' actions had spread through the ship like wildfire. Opening fire under the banner of peace was an act of dishonor that most warriors could not countenance. “They want to talk.”
“I’ll just bet they do,” Fenriis growled. “But they can wait until we are ready. Tell them we will talk when we have decided the fate of the humans aboard.”
The warrior, one of the senior bridge crew, nodded. “And if they fire upon us?”
“Disable their weaponry and shielding to prove a point but no more. Leave them exposed and at our mercy but do nothing else.” Fenriis grinned nastily. “Leave them to sweat for a while knowing we could take them out with one blast. That should soften them up nicely.”
“Of course, War Commander.”
The warrior paused for a moment, which got Fenriis’ attention.
“What is it?”
“The commander of the human vessel, sir…” The warrior’s expression softened a little. “It’s a female. She has asked for a status update on Vice President Cole. None of the others.” He grinned. “I get the feeling she’s more than happy certain members of the human team are our ‘guests.’ The comm didn’t cut off quickly enough. She called General Hopkins some very choice names when she thought I wasn’t listening. Should I reply to her request for an update?”
Fenriis was rapidly coming to the conclusion that human females were a lot more logical than their male counterparts, and he inclined his head. “You may. Let her know that the vice president is unharmed and being cared for, but will not be returned as yet.”
“Yes, sir.”
The warrior had barely turned to leave when Fenriis’ communicator cheeped to announce an incoming call.
“Sir, we’ve found her. She’s in sector thirty-two, sub-level four, by one of the maintenance junctions.”
“Good,” he replied as he turned toward the door. “I’m on my way.”
“Hurry,” the warrior's voice betrayed his concern and he signaled Isan and a couple of the others to follow him. “She’s wedged herself into one of the access shafts and she’s armed. We can’t get near her. But she’s hurt…”
Fear ran down Fenriis’ spine in combat boots and he stopped thinking.
Instead, he ran.
* * *
She’d run as fast and far as she could to get away from dead eye. Ran until her legs hurt and her lungs burned. Ran until it felt like her heart would burst right out of her chest. But no matter how far she ran, Amanda couldn’t find her way out of the darkly lit tunnels he’d dragged her into and back into the main areas of the ship.
“Shit,” she hissed, turning in a circle. She was in one of the intersections, a crossroads between the narrow corridors. They all looked exactly the same… apart from the bloody hand print on one corner.
Her gaze riveted to it.
It was hers. She’d tripped and almost fallen, but caught herself on the wall at the last minute. Which meant for the last hour, she’d been going around in a damn circle. How long had she been down here?
Panic clawed at her throat. She’d never get out. She was going to die down here like that medieval lady she remembered reading about for the girls' history homework years ago. The family had been playing hide and seek and she’d hidden in a trunk in the attic…only the lid had closed and locked her in. They’d only found her body months later when they were moving or something.
Tears filled her eyes as she shuddered. This damn ship was her very own version of that horrible trunk. She was going to die down here in these dark corridors and never see her kids again.
She closed her eyes and drew in a shuddering breath. Breathing out slowly, she forced the panic from her mind.
You are not going to die here, she told herself firmly. You’ve survived worse than this. Like three kids under five? That time they all had Ketarian flu? Poop and sick everywhere? Remember that, yeah? You got through that, on your own. You can get through this. You got this, promise.
Nodding to herself, she opened her eyes and started to walk again. This time she picked up a small piece of metal lying in one of the corners and started to use it to mark each intersection she took, trying to build up a mental map of the place in her mind. There must be some logic to the maze of corridors and if she could just work it out, she could figure a way to get out of here.
She couldn’t start banging on pipes to get someone’s attention, though. Dead eye could find her first. She’d stabbed him and he’d staggered back, obviously badly hurt, but then she’d run. She hadn’t had the courage to turn around and finish him off. She didn’t think she could do that… actually end something’s life.
He might have died anyway, a little voice in the back of her head commented and she paused, feeling sick at the very thought. That she might have done that to someone. Killed them.
But… that would be too simple, wouldn’t it? She couldn’t assume he was dead. She had to assume he was out here in the tunnels with her, so she couldn’t let her guard down.
You got this, she remi
nded herself.
For all her bravado and pep talk, though, she was scared. Seriously freaking scared. Jumping at shadows, her hand wrapped firmly around the hilt of the knife in her right hand. She peered into the shadows, making sure they were empty. It had taken her eyes a long time to adjust to the dimness, but she could just about see now.
Could the Lathar see better than humans could in the dark? Probably. They seemed to have the advantage over humanity in every way. She didn’t buy the line humanity were descended from the Lathar. If they were, humans sure had gotten the shitty end of the stick.
The darkness hadn’t seemed to bother dead eye at all. Her breath caught in her throat. What if he was creeping up on her right now? As though the thought had conjured them up, booted footsteps rang out in the corridors behind her.
Dead eye had found her! Panic filled her and she looked around desperately for somewhere to hide. She couldn’t afford to get caught out in the open. Her face still hurt from his fist…he’d kill her for sure this time.
A darker patch of shadow near floor level caught her eye and she crouched down, squinting to try and see further. A soft huff of relief escaped her lips. Scuttling forward she folded herself up as small as she could and shuffled in as far as she could.
It was some kind of maintenance shaft, but perhaps for a robot or something? There was no way a Latharian warrior would fit in here. It was barely big enough for her. Wriggling back as far as she could, she only stopped when her ass hit something solid. A wall. It was okay. She was far enough into the tunnel that he couldn’t reach her, and even if he tried, she had her knife. She’d cut his arm up… cut the damn thing off if she had to.
“Here. She’s in here.”
The footsteps got closer, joined by voices. Not dead eye, she’d never forget his voice, but others. She didn’t move though, staying curled up in the small tunnel.
“Where?”
“I don’t see her?”
“Close range scan say she’s here.”
They were almost on top of her now, and booted feet stopped in front of the tunnel entrance in front of her. She held her breath but daren’t squeeze her eyes shut just in case they heard the sound.
There was movement, and then light stabbed at her eyes. She squinted, her hand up to shield her eyes. One of them had bent down to shine a torch into the tunnel.
“Here! She’s here! She’s hurt,” he called out and then leaned in and reached out a hand to her. “Lady Amanda, take my hand. I’ll pull you out.”
“No.” She shook her head, raising the knife threateningly. They were all politeness now, but how did she know they wouldn’t turn out like dead eye? “Don’t you dare come near me. Get Fenriis. I’ll only come out for Fenriis.”
9
By the time Fenriis arrived at a run, a crowd had amassed in the middle of one of the under-corridors—the ones used to access the ducts and conduits of the ship's systems without getting in the way of the main traffic routes. Warriors running to go about their business didn’t mix well with engineers and bots intent on their tasks. Especially when those selfsame engineers were also armed to the teeth warriors. It got messy. Fast.
Fenriis slowed as he reached the group, noting they were all crowded around one of the old scutter-bot hatches. They weren’t used, an old system that was redundant these days. The Veral’vias was an older style war-cruiser that had been retrofitted with new tech at Fenriis’ insistence. With heavier armor than the newer designs but just as much firepower, it gave him a hell of an advantage in any ship-to-ship combat. Sure, it meant they weren’t as fast as other ships, but when you could play chicken with a comet and come out the winner, sheer speed didn’t matter so much.
The warriors at the edge of the group yielded to him and Isan. They were all on edge, concern showing on their faces as hands hovered over weaponry. It couldn’t be because of Fnaal. He was a rank and file warrior, not nearly good enough to seriously worry any of the senior warriors. Not unless he struck from the shadows like a coward… which wouldn’t surprise Fenriis. Not now. Not after this.
No, they were concerned about Amanda. Not because, like that draanthic Fnaal, they thought they could replace him as her mate, but because she was hurt and like all Latharian males, their protective instincts had kicked in. But his little mate wouldn’t allow them to touch her. Not even to tend to her injuries.
Stubborn little female, he cussed mentally, but couldn’t help the small curve of approval on his lips. Big, scary Lathar… bested by one tiny little woman. His expression fell flat. It was only funny as long as her refusal to let them treat her didn’t cause her further harm.
Fear washed down his spine. Her refusal to let them touch her, even to offer her aid, was a concern. When she’d arrived on board she’d been open and accepting of them and their culture, even though he’d all but kidnapped her. For her to close down now… what the fuck had Fnaal done to her? If he’d hurt her…
The snarl burst from Fenriis’ lips, making two warriors jump and scuttle out of his way. If Fnaal had hurt Amanda, he’d kill him. He’d make the draanthic’s death slow and painful… when it came to vengeance, Fenriis wasn’t just good, he was fucking gifted.
“She in there?” he asked when he reached the front of the group, Isan muscling in behind him. There was a minor standoff with another of the senior warriors but the leanly muscled healer simply snarled in warning, the heavy scar down one side of his face twisting the corner of his lips. The other warrior backed off fast. It was never a wise idea to piss off a male who understood how the body was put together. Usually they were excellent at taking it apart as well.
“Yes, War Commander.” The reply was instant.
“Good,” Fenriis nodded and began to crouch down. He knew she was in the shaft. His question had been more about announcing his presence and for Amanda to hear his voice. To hopefully reassure her.
“Hey, beautiful,” he murmured as he looked into the shaft. He’d steeled himself, not sure what he’d find, but the sight of her cowering at the very back of the small space, dagger held protectively in front of her, damn near broke his heart. The warrior in him noted her firm grip on the blade with approval, but the man in him saw the fear in her eyes.
“Come out, sweetheart,” he murmured, extending his arm into the tunnel and opening his hand.
Slowly she reached out, placing her small hand in his, and he drew her from the tunnel carefully. As soon as she was able, she burrowed into his arms, as close as she could get without actually being the same person.
“Oh god, I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispered, her words muffled against his neck. “I thought he was going to kill me.”
He closed his eyes at the note in her voice, exchanging glances with Isan over her bowed head. The healer moved closer, running a diagnostic wand over the shivering woman quickly. Fenriis watched him, not looking away until the healer shook his head. She wasn’t hurt. The blood on her wasn’t her own.
A breath of relief punched its way clear of Fenriis’ chest and he bent to scoop her up in his arms. “You’re safe now, my love.” His voice was low as he turned and made his way through the assembled warriors. They parted in front of him, some peeling off from the main group to accompany them—a protective detail he hadn’t asked for, but appreciated. It seemed his men had taken Amanda to their hearts as well. An attack on her was an attack on all of them.
* * *
Amanda curled up in Fenriis’ arms and buried her face into the curve of his neck and shoulder. He walked through the corridors of the ship right back to his quarters. When they reached the bedroom, he sat down on the bed with her in his arms. A shudder racked her body, her eyes filling with tears as she clung to him.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, feeling broken. The Lathar respected strength, didn’t they? What must he think of her now, in tears over something a Latharian woman would probably laugh about and brush off?
“What do you have to be sorry about?” He hooked a finger under
her chin and made her look up at him. “This is my fault. I should have realized Fnaal was a draanthic… an asshole.”
His expression was concerned, but underneath it she could see the anger, tightly controlled.
“This was my fault. I nearly lost you because I didn’t realize one of my warriors was unbalanced. Did he—” His face tightened, a muscle ticking in the corner of his jaw. “Did he hurt you?”
Her face still ached and she was fairly sure one of her back teeth was loose, but that wasn’t what he was asking.
“No.” She shook her head quickly. “He tried. Kept telling me that he was chosen and that I was his mate but I…I…” She swallowed past the sudden dryness in her throat. “I stabbed him with his own dagger.”
“Good girl,” Fenriis murmured in approval, his gaze locked on to her lips.
Despite the fact she’d just been assaulted and she was covered in blood that wasn’t her own, that dark look in his eyes made her body stir and her blood heat. Shivers rolled over her skin, settling between her thighs. The soft rustle as she pressed them together gave her away and the corner of his lips quirked up.
His hand slid into her hair, cupping the back of her head as he tilted her face up. He didn’t apologize. He merely covered her lips with his. His kiss wasn’t hard and cruel like dead eye’s had been but nor was it soft and gentle. It was firm and possessive. Less a kiss and more a declaration she was his. And she responded to it like a flower opening to the sun.
A murmur in the back of her throat, she tried to get closer to him, parting her lips for the invasion of his tongue. It stroked against hers and she shuddered, heat and need exploding through her. She needed him, needed his touch to prove she was still alive. Needed something to clear the nightmare memories that still lingered in the back of her mind from dead eye.
