Wyzak

by Layla Nash

  “Don’t touch her,” Wyzak snapped before he could bite the words back, furious with the male for touching her. He’d spent long enough imagining Gemma in his bed on the Sraibur that the potential that another male called her his own nearly sent Wyzak into a rage. She would be his and his alone.

  Gemma’s eyebrows rose as she looked at him, and the male Earther blinked in confusion. Wyzak lurched forward, ready to knock the boy’s hand away, but Gemma straightened her shoulders and gave him a quelling look. She also pointed her own stunner in his face. “Back off, Xaravian.”

  Wyzak didn’t retreat. “I won’t deal with him.”

  “You don’t have to,” she said. “If you’re hungry, eat the food. If not, go sit down and don’t make any trouble.”

  The male Earther remained in the door as Gemma ducked behind him and disappeared into the hall. Wyzak tensed, prepared to charge the male, but the door slid shut before he could gather his strength to make the leap. Wyzak stood alone again in the small cell. He snarled and snapped to himself as he went back to pacing, agitation making his movements jerky and uneven. He couldn’t have said why he wanted to rip the boy’s head from his shoulders, but the feeling was there all the same.

  The way the male touched her, resting his hand so possessively on Gemma’s shoulder... Wyzak growled and aimed a kick at the bowl of protein gruel. He had no reason to want to protect the girl from anything, not after what she’d done, and yet he wanted to wrap her up in his arms and carry her away to somewhere safe. It was more than just lust and a desire for vengeance. He’d let his thoughts run wild for too long.

  Maybe that male was the reason she was so self-conscious of her arm. Maybe he made her feel inferior because of it. Maybe he’d caused it. Wyzak growled more, even though he was alone in the cell, and looked for something to destroy. He shook off the last of the tranquilizers and wished there were more to be had. At least that way he wouldn’t spend the hours in the cell waiting for the next miserable experience to unfold. He didn’t want to fume over the girl or imagine all the horrible creatures which could be on their way to retrieve him. Wyzak wasn’t a coward, but that didn’t mean he wanted to sit there and wait for death to come.

  He focused on his crewmates on the Sraibur. They’d be searching for him, he knew that much for sure. The docks at the spaceport hadn’t been full, and since the bounty hunters appeared to be a two-person operation, they wouldn’t be on a large ship. That meant a specific signature for Faros and the others to follow.

  He kept pacing and stretching, making sure his muscles were in good working order. If it came down to it, he’d fight. He wouldn’t go quietly with whoever purchased him. He didn’t want to hurt the girl, but he’d do whatever it took to restrain her and keep himself safe. Wyzak tried to shake off the oddly possessive thoughts. She’d kidnapped him. Drugged him. He should have hated her.

  Instead, he found himself wondering whether her lips were as soft as they looked. What her hair smelled like, despite that she’d pulled it back into a severe style that pinched her expression. He growled in frustration and started searching the cell for any useful tech or thing he could use as a weapon.

  The Earther female stood as high as his shoulder, so she was tall for her kind, at least compared to the ones he’d known. The way she glared at him—hands on hips—made her seem bigger, as though she puffed up like one of the Earther cats that the Galaxos crew kept around. Fierce things, those Earther females. They didn’t seem to realize how fragile they were, without scales and their skin so soft and vulnerable. His stomach twisted at the thought of Gemma dealing with all manner of criminals in her role as bounty hunter.

  Wyzak found a small panel hidden near the floor under the cot and started to pry at it, hoping it might hide something useful. There was no telling what brought Gemma to be a bounty hunter. He’d known a few of them in his life and none chose the profession out of love for chasing down ill-tempered criminals and bail-jumpers. Some disaster must have disrupted her life for a relatively young woman and an Earther to have ended up parading around ungoverned space on the hunt for Xaravians.

  Well, that much he could have guessed from her missing arm.

  The metal panel bent back in his hand but wouldn’t work loose from the wall, and he growled in frustration as he tugged at it. Not that he could have done much with a thin sheet of metal, but it would have given him a sense of control. A hint of security, or at least the assurance that he could have inflicted some damage on his way to whatever hell awaited him.

  Wyzak kept working at it, folding the metal back and forth, back and forth, until it thinned and weakened. He wasn’t going to give up without a fight. If the Earthers thought that, they’d misjudged him. Badly.

  His lips curved faintly into a smile. Gemma would learn that soon enough.

  Chapter 7

  Gemma

  Gemma wished it had taken longer to contact a Tyboli ship to turn over the bounty. She couldn’t shake the feeling that surrendering the Xaravian was a mistake, despite what Milo said about Wyzak being a total asshole. She’d found the male posturing in the cell amusing, since it was patently clear there wasn’t any reason for it. She had no interest in Milo and the Xaravian had no interest in her, so them getting all grumpy and growly at each other was just absurd. She’d seen it often enough with marks; they needed to posture and fight to get a sense of control back. It didn’t mean anything.

  Even if the way Wyzak stared at her, his silver eyes glowing, made her stomach turn over. He’d stared at her arm and then jumped away when she moved it, so it was damn clear he wouldn’t find her attractive or have any real interest in her unless it bought him a chance at escape. She should have known better than to even consider...

  Gemma shook her head. It didn’t matter. He’d be off the ship soon enough and then she’d have to focus on the next bounty. There was no reason to get distracted by the handsome Xaravian.

  She stayed in the pilot’s seat while Milo worked the navigation and comms. Even speaking to the Tyboli gave her the heebie-jeebies, and the less she had to do with them, the better. She couldn’t ignore the fact that they traded in all manner of goods—including people. They fed the intergalactic slave trade. They facilitated weapons transfers that had destroyed planets and civilizations. If ever there were an interstellar cancer, the Tyboli were it.

  It was just an unfortunate fact that they had the deepest pockets of any species in that part of space. Even though they were also known for the occasional double-cross, they paid more consistently than anyone else, too.

  Gemma gripped the arms of her chair and scowled at the viewing screen. They might have been an awful set of creatures, but the Tyboli paid big money. She just had to focus on that. She could use that massive payment for good things, even beyond outfitting the Memphis. She could make some charitable contributions somewhere, maybe run a few flights for refugees escaping different parts of that quadrant for ungoverned space. There would be a lot of ways she could make amends for taking money from the Tyboli.

  Although making amends to Wyzak would be impossible. He’d disappear into their ships and never be heard from again.

  She kept her attention on the viewing screen in front of her. “Why do you suppose there’s a bounty on him?”

  “Dunno,” Milo said. He blew a breath at his forehead, trying to move the floppy hair out of his eyes. She’d offered to cut it for him at least a dozen times, but he claimed he liked it that way. Maybe he just didn’t trust her with a knife near his face. “With the Xaravians you can never tell. They’re pirates. They probably stole from the Tyboli. You saw their ship—damn nice and the latest tech.”

  Gemma made a thoughtful noise and tried to stuff down her misgivings. He was probably right. Pirates were just as bad as the Tyboli. There was no telling what kind of crimes Wyzak had been party to.

  Milo peered at her, his eyes narrowing. “Why?”

  She shrugged. “Just seems wrong, you know? The Tyboli are…the Tyboli. We don’t
do business with them.”

  “We can’t afford to be that picky,” he said under his breath. “Just because we haven’t done business with them before doesn’t mean we’ll never do business with them. They pay well, and they’ve got a lot of enemies. Lots of bounties they’re willing to pay top dollar for. If we get this first one complete with them, maybe they’ll be willing to offer a contract. We could be set for life if we play this right.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  His dark eyebrows rose. “Gem, come on. What’s going on? Did he say something to you?”

  “No, of course not.” She shoved to her feet and started to pace in the small confines of the bridge, uneasy as she moved. It felt like an itch under her skin, something she couldn’t get rid of. This wasn’t right. None of it was right. But she couldn’t tell Milo that. Not when there wasn’t any evidence to back it up. “Is there any sign of the Xaravian ship tailing us?”

  He watched her for a quite a while before answering, since he knew her well enough to know she changed the subject. “Not a blip. We’re in the clear.”

  “Don’t jinx us,” she muttered, wanting to groan. “You always do that.”

  Milo shrugged and kicked back in his chair. “We’re on course to meet the Tyboli in an hour. Why don’t you go take a rest and I’ll wake you when we get close?”

  She frowned, staring at the corridor that led away from the bridge. Take a rest? What, so she could lie in her bunk and stare at the wall and imagine all the awful things the Tyboli would do to Wyzak? She rubbed her shoulder and down her bicep, though she stopped with a wince as she got close to the metal appendage. She hadn’t gotten the phantom pains in a while, but there was no forgetting the sensation of fire working its way through muscles and joints that were no longer attached to her.

  That was the worst part—even though she’d lost the arm, it still hurt and there was no way to relieve the pain when there wasn’t anything to massage or numb. It was just in her head and nothing dulled it except alcohol or drugs.

  Gemma caught Milo’s sympathetic look and immediately bristled. “Fine. Suit yourself.”

  And she strode off. She hated it when other people looked at her arm or commented on it. She already knew she was different and damaged and less than a whole person. She knew it. Breathed it every day. She damn well didn’t need anyone staring to remind her.

  Her lip curled in disgust as she stormed through the suddenly too-small ship. She wanted to break something. Even knowing that Milo didn’t really care about her arm and had never treated her any differently because of it, she still seethed. It wasn’t fair, and there wasn’t any way to change it, but she still wished she could have been normal, could have gone back to before the accident.

  Gemma’s feet brought her to the one spot on the ship she should have avoided: the brig.

  She frowned at the door and tapped at the viewing panel. She tensed as it showed the bunk, the floor, the walls... no Xaravian. Gemma frowned and moved the camera, searching for a clue to where he’d gone, and finally uncovered a hint of his bare foot sticking out from under the bunk.

  Did Xaravians sleep on the floor? What the hell else would he be doing, crawling around under the bunk?

  Gemma drew her stunner and opened the door. Wyzak—or at least his foot—tensed, then he slid out from under the bunk to frown at her. “What?”

  Her eyebrows rose and she gestured with the stunner. “Up. Get out from under there.”

  “Why?” He didn’t move. He knew perfectly well that she couldn’t really force him to obey, since even if she knocked him out he’d stay on the floor, too heavy to move.

  It just made her resent the Xaravian more. First he made her question whether she should take a bounty from the Tyboli, then he reminded her she wasn’t as strong as she really needed to be for her profession. Gemma took a deep breath to soothe her frazzled nerves and packed down the irritation. There wasn’t any reason he needed to know she was pissed off. “Because I said so. Next step is taking the bunk out of here and you can damn well sit on the floor.”

  He debated ignoring her—she could see it on his face. Then Wyzak slooooowly got to his feet, stretching, and put his hands on his hips. Gemma held her ground and refused to be impressed with the stretch and slide of muscles across his broad body. “What were you doing down there?”

  The Xaravian shrugged, waiting, almost daring her to climb down there herself. She clenched her jaw and gestured with the stunner for him to get to the other side of the room. He sauntered over and leaned against the wall, watching her with a rather smug look on his handsome face. Gemma kept the weapon trained on him as she ducked to peer into the darkness under the bunk, and braced for him to try overpowering her to steal the weapon.

  But he stayed where he was, watching her bend over. No doubt trying to get a look at her ass. Her cheeks heated, and not just from the blood rushing to her head from ducking down.

  Gemma muttered in irritation and shoved the bunk out of the way so she could grip the bent piece of metal attached to the wall with her fake hand, ripping it away. “Nice try.”

  “Can’t blame a male for trying.”

  She could. She definitely could. But she didn’t. She toyed with the metal in her left hand, frowning down at it as she tried to imagine what he’d meant to do with it, then stiffened when she caught him studying her fake hand. Gemma’s eyes narrowed as she crushed the metal in her mech hand. “Got something to say?”

  His eerie silver eyes met hers, unblinking. “That’s a useful thing to have. Robo-grip and super-strength.”

  Her cheeks heated until they ached and she wanted to spit curses at him. Useful? The damn monstrosity was useful?

  Wyzak’s head tilted as he studied her, almost a challenge in his expression.

  Gemma didn’t want to react or reveal that he’d gotten under her skin, but it took every last iota of her self-control to keep from cursing him up and down. Was he mocking her?

  The Xaravian didn’t say anything. He just waited. And the longer it took for Gemma to come up with a response, the more patient he looked. Like he suspected something much bigger than just a curse was coming his way.

  Gemma’s throat constricted and she struggled against the sudden urge to blurt out how much she hated the arm, how much she missed being a whole, real person. A person, not some freak with machine parts. She held her breath and tried to banish the weakness. She was a bounty hunter, damn it, and he was just another target to haul in for a hefty payday.

  He wasn’t a sympathetic ear. He didn’t understand anything about her life, and he damn well wouldn’t be around long enough to learn about it.

  She glanced down at the crumpled metal in her hand. Useful? Maybe.

  Chapter 8

  Wyzak

  Wyzak didn’t know why the girl returned to his cell, though he cursed her interest a bit when it distracted him from working the metal loose from the panel. Not that it would have made much of a difference in the long run. He didn’t have enough time to fashion it into something that would have worked as a weapon. She probably saved him aggravation and some scratches.

  That was difficult to remember, though, as she gazed down at her mech arm and the metal she’d crushed in her fist like it was nothing more than tissue.

  He’d meant it when he said it was a useful thing to have. Wyzak figured the mechanical hand could crush or bash its way through almost anything with no real harm to its owner. But Gemma blanched when he said it and recoiled in revulsion. Clearly she didn’t agree. And with the way she’d reacted when he first stepped back from the arm, he started to think she hated the arm and everything it represented.

  He could have charged her while she was distracted, could have tackled her and easily gotten the stunner away from her. The thought flitted through his mind for just a moment before he dismissed it, though he couldn’t have given the justification if anyone had asked why he didn’t immediately take action. It would have made more sense to overpower her, take th
e weapon, and toss her into the cell so he could deal with the other bounty hunter and call the Sraibur.

  Instead, he waited for her breathing to even out and the color to smooth in her cheeks. He’d learned from Faros’s mate that a red face signaled some strong emotion in Earthers, though it could have been grief, rage, or embarrassment. Maybe desire.

  His head tilted as he studied her. Given their circumstances and the way she studied her arm, it might have been anything. Probably not desire.

  The bounty hunter straightened her shoulders and retreated to the door. “This is your last warning—no funny business or we’ll just knock your ass out until the Tyboli get here. Understood?”

  He went still. The Tyboli. The worst-case scenario. Even the Alliance would have been preferable to the slave traders. Wyzak cleared his throat and eased a step in her direction. He definitely should have tackled her and taken the stunner. “Whatever they’re offering, I can triple it.”

  One of her fiery eyebrows arched. “I doubt it.”

  “Give me a figure.”

  She shook her head, not quite meeting his gaze. “It’s not about that.”

  He seized on the implication that maybe she didn’t want to give him up to the Tyboli. Maybe the Earther male was making her do it. “You said it was just business. If it’s just business, give me a figure.”

  “They’re on their way,” she said calmly. “And I doubt you can match the funds in the next hour. It’s done, Xaravian.”

  “If I signal my ship, they’ll be here immediately and can defend you from the Tyboli.” He hoped he didn’t sound as desperate as he felt. Wyzak hated feeling like he begged for his life, but… he begged for his life. There were only so many ways to do that. “Along with paying the bounty. Five times the bounty, whatever it takes.”