Leaning forward, his nostrils flared as he met her gaze with a steely regard. “I have been utilizing this room as my personal office. Be aware that all the drawers are keyed to me. You will not get anything out of my desk, and if you damage it by attempting to break into it… well, it has been passed down through my family for generations and I will find a way of taking its value out of your hide. Your mate was fond of rules. Here are some rules for you, and I suggest you heed them well. Rule one: do not try to leave this room. You are locked in, but do not get it into your head to attempt to escape in any clever method that may occur to you. You will fail and only bring my wrath down upon you. Rule two: as I said before, I expect silence. Any attempts to disturb my rest will be dealt with harshly. Rule three: I do not know what condition your species lives in on your homeworld, but you will not soil or otherwise destroy this room. There is a waste receptacle. I expect it to be used.”
He straightened and smiled. “Now, I suggest that you rest. I will send someone to collect you to join me for evening meal.”
“I would rather not,” she muttered before she could stop herself.
His retaliation with immediate. A red-flushed hand swept down to curl around the neckline of her shirt as he lifted her nearly off her feet. Only her toes just barely had contact with the floor when he leaned down and growled threateningly in her face.
“It was not a request. I will see you fed and guarded. You can at very least provide me some amusement during the evening meal. If you enjoy eating, I suggest that you do so. If you refuse to eat with me, then you will not be eating at all. It is still several diurnal cycles until we arrive planetside, where you might have an opportunity to forage.”
“Is that rule four?” she squeaked. Her mouth was suffering from such a disconnect with her brain that must have had a death wish.
His nostrils flared again, but he smiled and dropped her back down into the chair. “Indeed. Rule four.”
He reached out a hand as he stared down at her. One of his goons stepped forward and handed him a cleansing cloth. Egbor’s eyes narrowed on her as he wiped each of his hands off as if he had touched something filthy.
She tamped down the offense that immediately sprung forward. No. It was a good thing if he thought of her as an unclean burden. She didn’t want him to have any interest in her outside of how he might use her to manipulate Veral.
“Be sure to use the cleansing unit before you join me for evening meal. You will forgive me if I do not trust the hygiene of a salvager and his primitive mate.” He snorted to himself in amusement. “I will send someone in with proper items for a female.”
She would have asked him how a pirate ship had anything suitable for a woman, but he walked away without another word. Despite her gnawing curiosity, she didn’t call after him. Instead, her body sagged with relief when the door closed behind him. From the chair, she allowed her gaze to wander. It didn’t take long before she became restless enough to start poking around her surroundings. Just as he promised, everything on the desk was locked, as well as a nearby cabinet.
She had only just started really exploring the room as she tossed a couple of drawers filled with spare clothing and random items of no value to her when the door opened again to reveal at brilliant orange Blaithari. The female’s four breasts were small but visible beneath her tight uniform, her dark hair pulled into a high knot at the back of her head, the remaining length trailing down her back. Her eyes were a very pale yellow, almost colorless, as they regarded Terri with icy detachment.
“The captain had me bring these things for you, female,” she rasped.
The rough sound of her voice was so at odds with almost musical tones of the other Blaithari that it startled Terri, drawing her attention to the female’s face. The Blaithari grimaced under inspection, her throat working as she choked back whatever retort she was going to fire at Terri’s head. It was then that a thick network of scars lacing the female’s throat were clearly visible.
“Quite staring, beast,” she snarled as she foisted a bag into Terri’s arm. “These are for your use. Be grateful. It is far more than any other would receive as captive on board The Black Star.”
Returning her attention to the other female’s face, away from the scars, Terri clutched the bag to her chest. “Thank you, uh…”
The female snorted rudely and squinted at her. “Azan. I suppose that you need to know it since Egbor is making me responsible for your welfare. Never known him to care so much about the comfort of a female in his life,” she scoffed. “You must be something special… A rare pet? A princess? Yours is a peculiarly ugly species if you are. No scales, thin hair and nails, flat teeth, dull eyes, and only one set of arms and tits. I do not understand the attraction. Though I imagine you are warm and soft, which may be pleasing enough,” she acknowledged. “I suppose that would make you an entertaining enough female for the time being.”
Terri’s eyes widened when understanding hit. “Oh no, there’s nothing like that going on here. He is using me as leverage against my mate. The deal was that he had to keep me safe from the crew and this was his best bet.”
“Was it now?” Azan murmured, her lips curving into a menacing smile. “This is hardly safe. I do not like being ordered to watch over you and see to your needs as if I were a servant. I have worked hard and sacrificed much to be second-in-command. That my sex has assigned me as your keeper is beneath me, as is being forced to share my meager belongings just because I am the only female on ship who has them. But,” she said slowly with resignation, “the captain has entrusted me with this, so I will carry out his orders, regardless of my personal feelings on the matter. I only offer one warning: do not even consider doing anything stupid that may reflect poorly upon me.”
Her words dropped to a whisper as she reached out and drew one claw along Terri’s cheek. “I know ways to bring about pain. Pain is my special calling and is what secured my position in this crew rather than becoming of the few miserable females who live short, brutal lives, flung among the lower decks to amuse the males. I will find a way to inflict the worst pain on you without leaving a visible mark. While you are in my charge, you will do as you are told. It is as simple as that.”
Azan made a show of relaxing as she straightened and rocked back on her heels. She glanced around the room placidly, a room that would have been hers if the captain assigned rooms in accordance to the ship’s design. Her expression, however, didn’t waver. It remained cool as she smirked at Terri.
“With arrangements as they are, I am going to be spending a lot of time in this room with you. If you don’t like sharing a bed, you can sleep on the floor. I have spent enough revolutions on a floor that I refuse to go there again. Unless I am called away or need to step out for a specific reason, consider me your shadow. Now, I do believe that you have an evening meal to prepare for. Cleanse yourself and rest. Egbor is not a patient or forgiving male.”
Shooing Terri off in the direction of the cleaning unit, Azan dropped down into the chair that she had vacated and pulled out a large, wicked knife and a small square block upon which she began to sharpen it. Terri watched, her heart hammering in her throat at every long draw of the blade against the stone. Azan glanced up and smirked.
“Hurry now, beast.”
Biting off her protest, Terri spun away and disappeared into the cleansing unit. Her clothing hit the floor, and she stepped into the stall. The dry air and sonic vibrations surrounded her, stripping away every bit of dirt and sweat until she was as clean as she had ever been. Although she and Veral did have a tub for the rare occasion when they chose to use the recycled water supply for that, she had long become accustomed to a cleansing stall.
When she stepped out, she nearly tripped when she found the Blaithari waiting outside the stall with folded clothes in hand. Her eyes swept over Terri, and she grinned.
“Just as I suspected, you are wholly soft and helpless. You don’t even have the lower pectoral spines.”
“T
he w-what?” Terri sputtered.
The female pulled up her tight tunic just enough to reveal her breasts. Just as they were bared, a long, sharp spine speared up from beneath the swell of each breast before slowly retracting. Terri gaped in astonishment as Azan tugged her tunic back down.
“Most females have some sort of defense mechanism to protect themselves from aggressors—except your species, it seems. You are truly as fragile as you appear. You will not last a full revolution without your mate protecting you. I am surprised you have survived as long as you have. Soft things do not last long in space. How sad to see a male of such a strong species mated to one so weak. Argurma females are warriors who stand beside their males. He must have to keep you protected like a youngling.”
With those parting words, she tossed the clothing at Terri and strode away, leaving Terri alone with her thoughts and the dread curling in her stomach. Obviously, Veral had known something that everyone in space understood but her. Anything perceived as weak wouldn’t survive. On Earth, she was good at hiding from her enemies, but even she understood the need to fight for survival. If her survival meant that she had to go further to protect herself, then she would find a way to equip herself.
Terri’s brow furrowed thoughtfully as she pulled the loose tunic and leggings on, all of which were baggy and obviously meant to fit the Blaithari who gave them to her. Her exploratory field armor in the ship was a good start, but she was going to need more, as Azan had made clear with her demonstration. She was letting Terri know with few words why her chances of survival were slim—and exactly why Veral jealously guarded her and kept her hidden away.
How long would she have survived otherwise? Especially with her penchant for finding trouble and aim to turn a quick profit. It would have earned her more than a little undesired attention if things had continued as they were with Terri so vulnerable.
Her teeth sank into her bottom lip. She needed to find a way to reduce her vulnerability so she would be able to survive this situation and be able to stand at Veral’s side as his mate. But how?
7
When Azan escorted Terri into the captain’s quarters for the evening meal, she found herself stepping into a room bedecked with precious metals and exotic, colorful fabrics. A sort of light, spicy fragrance hung in the air, though it was almost drowned out by the savory foods set out on several platters on the table at which Egbor sat.
Although she balked for only a moment, it was apparently too long for Azan. The second-in-command pushed her forward, giving Terri little choice but to sit in the chair directly across from him. The pirate captain regarded her contemplatively through slitted eyes. His eyes left her only long enough to acknowledge the presence of Azan as she took her place between them. Almost on cue, a thin male—a young Blaithari if Terri wasn’t mistaken, not more than a child—drew to the side of the table and began to serve them in a careful, measured manner before scurrying out the door.
She drew back startled. “I really don’t think…”
“Good. Do not think,” Egbor interrupted, his expression hard.
She glared back at him. To her disgust, her stomach grumbled as the aroma of the food on her plate hit her nose. It was a wonder that she could eat, but her body was demanding the nutrients and letting her know.
A small smile tugged at the captain’s lips as his expression suddenly lightened, and he gestured to her plate. “Despite what you may think from your current surroundings, we do not stand on ceremony here. Eat.”
She did not reply other than to grab the two-pronged utensil sitting beside her and dig into her food. She felt a pang of guilt as the tender meat melted on her tongue. There was little doubt that Veral wasn’t getting anything this good. She cut a quick glance to Azan, and seeing her engrossed in her own meal, she ventured to broach the topic.
“Did anyone bring food to my mate?” she inquired cautiously.
Egbor paused, his two-pronged fork halfway to his mouth as he stared at her. “Yes,” he answered shortly before placing it in his mouth. He chewed as he regarded her. “He is being given a portion of what was sent to my upper crew. Nothing quite as fine as this, naturally. In fact, Azan hasn’t enjoyed such fare herself in many revolutions, but he will still have food of filling and good quality. The Argurma is a fine tool, and I will care for him as long as he continues being useful to me.”
Terri stared at him in surprise. “But you put him that a tiny, dirty cell.”
“That is to remind him of his place and his dependence on my good graces. In any case, it will not hurt him. Argurma are resilient. He will care more about the food than he will about a comfortable place to sleep.”
She couldn’t argue with that. On Earth, he seemed to sleep easily even in the worst surroundings. Still, she hated to think of him caged down there while she got to enjoy a comfortable room.
“It is necessary to cage him,” Egbor continued as if he were reading her mind. “An Argurma will only be under my control as long as I have complete control of you in his presence. Alas, I have to sleep, and cannot spend every moment threatening you. Even Azan, as fear-inspiring as she is, needs sleep on occasion. It is for everyone’s safety that he is kept caged where he will not put everything at risk. Unlike Azan, when she came into my service, he has nothing else to lose but you.”
From the corner of her eye, Terri noted the way the female’s hand tightened around her fork, her expression hardening at Egbor’s observation. The Blaithari second-in-command was not pleased by his comments. Whatever the history was between them, it lurked with a weighty presence behind those few words.
Terri directed her attention to her food. This was, without a doubt, the most uncomfortable meal she had ever shared with anyone—and given the way that she and Veral had shared a tense meal of lizards in the ruins of a building, that was saying something. Azan didn’t speak, and Egbor watched her, a frown marring his brow as he seemed to realize that she wasn’t going to perform for him.
Fuck that. She was here eating with him. She was doing only as much as she was required to.
He seemed to change tactics as he sat back and wiped his mouth, one hand gesturing to his surroundings.
“What do you think of my quarters, female?”
Setting her spoon down, Terri didn’t miss the soft sigh from Azan but pretended not to hear it just as Egbor seemed to do after he cut his eyes in the other Blaithari’s direction. Instead, she made a show of slowly looking around the room in admiration before finally allowing her eyes to meet his.
“It’s nice,” she said flatly.
His eyes blinked in surprise, and she was certain that she heard an amused snort come from the second-in-command.
“Nice?” he echoed. “All this splendor, the remainder of my fortunes as the younger son of a Blaithari prince and treasures accrued from plunder, and the best that you can come up with is… ‘nice?’”
She swallowed the bite she had taken in the interim while he was busy boasting. A younger son of a prince turned to piracy… Interesting. He was watching her so expectantly for any reaction that—oh, what the hell—she would indulge him. Obviously, he was eager to impress upon her his importance. She couldn’t imagine why. She was nobody, but if it would make the meal go faster, then she would bite.
“A prince, huh? Then why are you out pirating instead of enjoying a royal life?”
“It is a most incredible story,” he said, the flinty look that had been in his eye since boarding eased as he settled back in his chair.
He drew a small tube out of his vest and followed by removing a pouch. Dipping his fingers into it, he withdrew a stringy mass that smelled sharply of the spicy fragrance floating around the room and stuffed it into the tube. Leaning back, he lit a small triangular nub at the end and took a deep drag on it. As the smoke billowed out from his lips, his pink scales flushed almost red, he almost made her think of a smoking dragon from one of the tattered children’s book she had come across once in her youth.
“He
publicly disgraced himself,” Azan said, her tone somewhat bored as if she had heard this story too often. “He was exiled from his homeworld and all of the Blaithari colonies with nothing but this ship and a small crew to pilot it.”
Egbor shot a dark look to the female, but he didn’t snap at her like Terri thought he would. He seemed more inclined to continue to smoke whatever was in the hollow tube than exert any effort into retaliating. He pointed one thick finger at her and sneered.
“Be grateful that I find you too useful and amusing to terminate,” he grumbled.
Azan grinned lazily at him, the first smile that Terri had seen on the female’s face, and it was almost transformative. Transformative in that it made her seem even scarier than she appeared at rest. The hard, lethal edge to her smile was disconcerting. That the captain met her gaze with a nonplussed expression confirmed that this was a regular part of their odd relationship.
“You do not attempt to terminate me because we both know just how hard I am to kill. I make a better ally than an enemy, as you once pointed out.”
He grunted in agreement and lifted a cup of some sort of dark, frothy substance to his mouth. Tipping back his cup, he drank long from it before setting it down with a hard tap on the table.
“Are you finished with your interruptions?”
“For now,” Azan agreed.
He snorted and turned his attention back to Terri. “As Azan said, I was exiled in disgrace. It was considered an embarrassment to my family and peers that I sought profit in a rather lucrative natural resource on my planet, one that we have an abundance of.”
Silence followed as he waited for Terri to play along.
“And what is that?” she asked.
Instead of answering directly, his expression turned smug and calculating. “Would you agree that there can be problems that arise when the population skews out of balance? When there is too much surplus of one that causes strain?”
“I can see how that could be possible,” Terri replied slowly. She had seen just how crazy and covetous so many men became on Earth when women were harder for them to find, and the way women were shared among them in some sort of weird desperation.
Pirate's Gold (Argurma Salvager Book 2) Page 6
