by Tana Stone
Savage
Barbarians of the Sand Planet #5
Tana Stone
Broadmoor Books
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Epilogue
Preview of CLAIM—Barbarians of the Sand Planet #6
Also by Tana Stone
About the Author
One
Caro tugged her dark hair up into a high ponytail, wishing the sand barbarians had mirrors. Glancing around the tent she and Bexli were sharing revealed not a single reflective surface she could look into.
She sighed. It wasn’t like she reveled in staring at herself in the mirror, or enjoyed primping in front of it, but it would be nice to make sure she looked presentable. This tahadu ritual that Holly’s new boyfriend, T’Kar, was about to go through seemed like a big deal, and the entire Dothvek village would be there. She could hear them outside her tent now, feet soft in the powdery sand and their voices low, in excited murmurs. Not that she had anyone in particular she wanted to impress, but it would be nice to know if her ponytail was uneven.
Caro almost laughed, thinking how much time her curvy, flirty, redheaded crew mate, Holly, spent on her hair and picking out the perfect bold, sexy outfit. But she did not have Holly’s curves, or her love for provocative clothes. She’d always been petite and lean, with a fondness for cargo pants and V-neck T-shirts. Her stick-straight hair had never held a curl, so there was no way she could get the bouncy waves her roomie sported, but at least her skin didn’t burn as easily as Holly’s.
Even though she’d never been as interested in primping as Holly, after a few days living in a primitive tent village, she did miss the relative luxuries of her old spaceship. The ship her bounty hunter crew had lived and worked on hadn’t been fancy, but it did have showers with plenty of hot water, and mirrors in every bathroom.
“Who knew those were luxuries?” she whispered to herself, her gaze flitting around the two-poled tent that served as her quarters now.
Colorful, woven rugs and mats covered the sand floor, overlapping each other and creating a mismatched patchwork of patterns and textures. Lanterns hung on a cord suspended between the two high poles, and smelled of burning tallow. Two makeshift beds had been created by piling up thicker animal furs and blankets, and a pair of low, wooden tables sat to the side of each one. On Caro’s side table, she kept a jug of water, along with two old-fashioned, creased photos she usually kept tucked in her pocket.
Since they’d been in the village for a few days, she’d taken them out and flattened them so she could look at the images each night before she fell asleep. Few images were printed anymore, which made these even more valuable to her. The photo paper was soft with age and the colors faded, but it didn’t matter. She’d memorized the people in the photos, anyway. Resistance crew mates who were long since gone, but forever seared in her memories.
Caro patted her hair and felt no lumps. That was something, she guessed. She should join the rest of her all-female bounty hunter crew soon, although she was enjoying the few moments in the tent to herself.
Since they’d been marooned on the sand planet, they’d gone from the shock of crash landing in a spaceship, to the fear of thinking they’d lost their captain, to the surprise of meeting the Dothveks—native barbarians who also happened to be huge and gorgeous—to the anger at thinking their latest bounty, who they now considered a friend and part of their crew, had been killed. To say it had been a busy week would have been an understatement.
Caro allowed herself to flop back on her bed, grateful when her body sank into the soft blankets, and the sand shifted under the weight of her body. What she really needed was to sleep for about a month.
Closing her eyes, the surprising sting of tears pricked the backs of her eyelids. She’d been so busy going from catastrophe to chaos that she’d barely had a moment to absorb everything that had happened to them, or to deal with the loss. For the moment, her life as the pilot of the galaxy’s only all-female bounty-hunting crew was on hold. Not only were they stuck on a primitive planet, their ship had been destroyed. They had no way to escape, and no way to continue capturing bounties. Thinking about the battered, old ship she’d piloted for so long made a tear escape the corner of her eye.
She swiped at it. “Get it together. It was just a ship.”
But it wasn’t just a ship. It had been much more than that. It had represented a new life for her, and the closest thing to a family she had left.
Caro pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, willing the tears to go away, even as she thought about all the happy hours she’d spent on the bridge of the old ship, flying the group of them out of scrapes, and outrunning all types of enemy vessels. She’d been the first person Danica had hired to make up the bounty-hunter crew, so she’d been with the captain for the longest. She could still remember the first time she’d seen the old ship and Danica walking down the back ramp. She hadn’t realized she’d been staring at the striking blonde until the woman had called out to her.
“You looking for passage?”
Caro had glanced around for a moment, before she realized the woman was talking to her. “Passage? No. I’m a pilot.”
Danica’s eyebrows had shot up. “Really? You any good?”
Caro had bitten back the urge to say she’d been the best pilot in the Valox resistance. Being a member of an underground resistance movement against one of the galactic empires wasn’t something you wanted to advertise in an outpost like Hevral. “I can hold my own.”
Danica had studied her for a moment, before giving a small nod. “I’m looking for a pilot. Any interest in joining my crew? I pay equal shares of the profits.”
That got her attention. No captains paid their crews equal shares, although most captains she’d seen around Hevral were crusty, old men with dodgy reputations and bad tempers. This woman was clearly not that.
Caro peered up at the dull, metal exterior of the ship with obvious patches on the weathered hull. “What kind of ship? Transport?”
Danica dragged a hand through her wavy hair, the corners of her mouth quirking slightly. “Kind of.” She stepped closer and lowered her voice. “How good are you at avoiding blockades and outrunning patrols?”
Caro eyed her. She didn’t know what the woman was up to—smuggling, perhaps?—but after serving with the Valox resistance, she didn’t imagine there was anything she couldn’t handle. “Let’s just say I can hold my own.”
“I believe you.” The blonde extended a hand. “I’m Danica. Captain of this ship, and of the only all-female bounty-hunting crew around.”
Bounty-hunting? That had made her own eyebrows rise. “How big is your crew?”
Danica spun on her heel, casting a look over her shoulder before disappearing back inside the ship. “Just the two of us. So far.”
Caro hesitated. A female bounty-hunter crew of two? Then again, what oth
er options did she have? Her resistance team was dead, and she didn’t think she could bear joining up with another, as much as she hated the Zagrath empire, and its grip on the Valox sector. No, she’d given everything she had for two astro-years, and she had the physical and emotional scars to prove it. Maybe a gig as a bounty hunter would be just the change she needed, she thought, as she strode up the ramp after Danica.
It had been a change, Caro thought. Just not in the way she’d expected. As she and Danica had added to the crew—first Holly, then Tori, and finally Bexli—Caro had gained more than a new colleague. She’d gained a new member of the ragtag crew that had eventually became her family. And now that family had been torn apart, and was barely putting itself back together. Caro sucked in a jerky breath, opened her eyes, and stared at the fabric ceiling of the tent.
Even though she was currently safe, Tori was still missing, having stolen onboard their archenemy Mourad’s ship before he blasted off the planet. One of the Dothveks had snuck on with her, but she had no way of knowing if the tough security chief was safe or not. Even though Tori was more than capable of taking care of herself, Caro still worried about her. She never wanted to lose another crew mate. She couldn’t.
As she lay on the bed, she sensed something strange. It was the same thing she’d felt when they’d been out in the desert, looking for T’Kar. She couldn’t put her finger on exactly what it was, but it was like a faint pulse of someone else’s emotions. A feeling that wasn’t her own, but that niggled in the back of her brain. Almost like she was being watched, although that was impossible, since she was inside a tent with the flaps closed.
She knew Dothveks were empathic, and she also knew that both Danica and Max were able to sense the emotions of the Dothveks they’d fallen for, but she wasn’t involved with any of the natives. She hadn’t so much as made eyes at any of the big, brawny aliens, although she’d certainly noticed how gorgeous they were. She’d been too worried about her friends to focus any energy on hot guys. So, what was she sensing?
Shaking her head, Caro stood quickly and glanced around the tent. Empty, except for her. Of course.
She was imagining things. She was letting all the talk of empathic aliens make her imagine that she was reading minds. She almost laughed. A Dothvek mate was definitely not in the cards for her. Her goals were to make sure her friends were all safe, and find a way for them to get off the planet.
Caro swiped at her eyes, hoping they weren’t red and puffy. She’d better join the others at the tahadu before she missed the entire thing. She wanted to be there to support Holly, even though she thought the idea of a gauntlet ritual was a bit barbaric.
“You are living in a tent village with aliens who wear nothing but leather pants,” she reminded herself.
The same aliens that her friends seemed to be falling for, one by one. She tried not to think about that, either, especially since she did not see herself falling for a Dothvek. Not when Tori was still missing, she told herself. Once Holly’s Crestek boyfriend was accepted into the Dothvek clan, they could refocus on their next moves, although without a ship, even she had to admit that they were pretty limited.
Caro turned to the bed, walking to the low table and touching both of the photos quickly. Her fingers hovered over the second image and a prickle snaked down her spine.
There it was again, that feeling. The awareness of someone else’s thoughts, even though they were faint and undefined. She touched a finger to her temple unconsciously, even as the air swirled faintly around her legs, and she heard a footstep so soft it was almost undetectable. Then panic fluttered in her chest.
Two
Rukken sat on his haunches in the tall grasses edging the Dothvek village. He’d been observing them since they brought the Crestek back, following the rescue party at a safe distance and hiding once they’d reached the village.
He was glad T’Kar was safe. He liked the warrior, even if he was a Crestek, and he was glad he’d found him on the sands and nursed him back to health. If nothing else, the company of the Crestek had been a welcome change from the aching loneliness of his exile. Rukken bit back the growl that threatened to rise up in his throat every time he thought about his exile from the Dothvek clan.
That is not why you are here, he reminded himself.
He shifted his stance, and his feet tingled from the movement after being still for so long. He’d been watching as the villagers had fed the animals that brayed in their pen, filled jugs with water from the blue lake, and grilled meat over the communal fire. The scent of the burning meat had almost undone him, his stomach rumbling so loud he’d been sure it would give away his hiding spot. But still, he’d remained crouched in the copse of willowy grass, watching and waiting.
He’d almost forgotten how much he’d missed the familiar smells of his old home—the musky scent of the jebels, the aroma of smoke, the faint smell of moisture in the air. They were things he’d tried to recreate in his own smaller camp, but they were stronger here, and he felt a pang as he breathed them in.
What he longed for most deeply, however, were the sounds. Even though his people were empathic, they still spoke to each other in voices deep and husky. The animals still made noises as they shuffled in their pens. The breeze still stirred the leafy fronds at the tops of the tall, spindly trees. Being alone had meant that the only voice was his own—it had been almost three solar rotations since he’d heard another speak—and he had often thought he might go mad from the silence.
Rukken wondered why he had not returned before, if only to observe his former clan, but the feeling of comfort had been soon replaced by one of longing. Painful longing that made his heart ache.
The only time he’d had to fight the urge to reveal himself, to lunge out and brandish his blade, had been when he’d seen Zatvar approach the fire. The Dothvek looked much as he remembered, although his dark hair was shaggier, and his waist seemed thicker. Bile rose in his throat when he saw the warrior walking freely, while he was forced to hide from his people.
It should have been the other way around. Zatvar should have been the one exiled, not him. But no one but him knew what had happened that day, and Zatvar had done a skillful job of setting him up to take the fall.
Rukken’s hand drifted to the hilt of his blade, his fingers itching to strike down the Dothvek who had ruined his life. But Zatvar was not the reason he was hiding. Not today.
When he saw her with the other females, his breath hitched in his chest. She was the reason he was there. The female with the dark hair that she wore tied up, and the dark eyes that often narrowed in concern when she talked to the others, her voice fast as the words spilled out. He could barely breathe when he looked at her, his desire for her so strong it almost leveled him.
She was his. He knew it. Just like T’Kar had claimed the female with the flame-colored hair, he would claim the slight female who smiled easily and talked often. He smiled himself, as he thought about the comfort her voice would bring him on the empty sands.
From the moment he’d seen her, he’d known. As if the goddesses had sent him a message in the form of a pulsing throb echoing through his body, his cock aching at the sight of her.
He’d been watching T’Kar from a distance once he’d sent him off on the sands. Despite what he’d told the Crestek, he had no intention of abandoning the warrior after he’d spent so much time healing him. He’d tracked T’Kar, and even helped scare off the scarabs that had chased the Crestek, before hiding when the Dothvek hunting party found him.
Rukken had been relieved when the female he’d assumed was the mate T’Kar had mentioned arrived, but his attention had almost instantly been drawn to the human with nearly black hair. Although each of the females looked different, her small features and slightly upturned eyes had seemed almost familiar to him, as if he already knew her.
He’d stared at her as the Dothveks and humans had taken T’Kar back to the village, staying at least a sand dune behind so he couldn’t be seen. They
had sensed him, though. He’d picked up on both of the Dothvek’s concern, and noticed them tighten their grip around their females. And T’Kar. The Crestek had looked back a few times, making him realize that his own skills were rusty. He’d worked to mask his emotions for the remainder of the journey.
He couldn’t let them find him. He couldn’t let them stop him.
After watching for most of the day, the suns began to dip lower in the sky, and the Dothveks appeared to be gathering at the far side of the village, away from him. He heard snippets of conversation, and the word tahadu mentioned.
So that was how they were testing T’Kar. It had been a long time since he’d thought of the tahadu, or any of the Dothvek rituals, and a part of him wished to observe it. His heart thumped in his chest at the thought of the gauntlet, memories of his own tahadu swirling in his head. He could imagine the two rows of warriors, blades brandished and faces wild, as they waited to test the warrior. He should have been part of that. He should be lined up, waiting for the warrior to pass him, hoping to get in a good hit.
He gave his head a rough shake. That wasn’t to be. The past was already written. It was only the future he could control, and what he did tonight would alter the course of his.
Waiting until most of the warriors had gathered at the back of the village, Rukken searched for her mind amid the swirl of thoughts. He was out of practice, but her human mind was easier to pick out of the many Dothvek ones.
