“Maybe not, but you’ve seen your mother, and I’ve yet to encounter a Davordian woman who wasn’t at least passably pretty. Granted, your features are more Zetithian than Davordian, but still…” He stared at her in disbelief. “Haven’t you ever looked at yourself in the mirror?”
Her befuddled expression was as endearing as it was priceless. “What’s a mirror?”
Moe’s incredulity tripled, until he remembered where he was. As ugly as the Haedusians were, mirrors were probably outlawed. Either that or the problem was merely a question of translation. The Standard Tongue was in use throughout the galaxy, but local dialects tended to incorporate smatterings of the native languages. “Maybe you call it something different here. It’s a flat, shiny thing you can see your reflection in.”
She frowned as though trying to understand a difficult concept. “This is something made specifically for the purpose of admiring oneself?”
“I don’t know about the admiring part,” he replied. “Sometimes you just want to be sure you don’t have dirt on your face.”
Klara ran an experimental finger down her cheek, then studied her fingertip. “I never thought it mattered.”
Moe had met many females in his life, and to a woman, they all seemed to think it mattered quite a bit. That she didn’t was both refreshing and unusual. “There are other reasons for using a mirror. Terran men have facial hair that they sometimes shave off. Shaving could probably be done by feel, but it helps to see what you’re doing. At least, I assume it does. The only facial hair Zetithian men have is in their eyebrows and eyelashes.”
“I’ve seen men with beards.” She touched her cheek again. “It would be strange to have hair growing on your face.”
“I’ve always thought so,” Moe agreed. “Although plenty of species have more facial hair than humans do. But then, most of them are hairy all over, like Racks and Nedwuts.”
She nodded absently, her luminous blue eyes aimed toward the floor as though her mind were occupied with something far more important than shaving off unwanted hair. “I do have some idea of what I look like, although flat, shiny things aren’t very common here. I should probably wash my face more often, but water is so scarce, we barely have enough to drink.”
“I know that,” Moe said gently. “I didn’t mean to suggest that your face is dirty. And even if it is, it’s still one of the prettiest faces I’ve ever seen.” And your scent is…intriguing.
Her gaze shifted from the floor to capture his own. She probably had no idea how beautiful her eyes were, either. But they were, and they were even more so at night. Two gorgeous glowing orbs calling out to him from the darkness.
A strange rumbling sound began, surrounding him with its soft resonance. Comforting, yet stimulating, it took him several moments to realize what it was.
He was purring.
Chapter 7
Klara’s mouth was watering to the point that she actually had to swallow. All this talk about washing and drinking must’ve had an effect. That sound she heard… Was it coming from him? Suddenly, she was filled with an overwhelming urge—no, need—to move closer in order to determine the source.
His heavy exhale amplified the vibrations, proving he was the source while eliminating the necessity to move toward him, if not the desire. She’d had fangs all her life, but never before had she longed to sink them into something as vibrantly alive as Moe.
“That sound you’re making,” she whispered. “What is it and why are you doing that?”
Silence fell, leaving nothing behind except the thudding pulse in her ears and the rapid pant of her own breathing.
“It’s nothing,” he replied. “Nothing important, anyway.” His voice sounded odd, perhaps even strained. “You should go back to bed and try to get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a very busy day.”
She swallowed again. The moment had passed along with the urge. Perhaps she’d imagined the whole thing. “They’re all busy. Staying alive takes a lot of effort.”
“Someday soon, you won’t have to think about that anymore. You’ll be able to live without having to struggle to survive. You’ll have other things to occupy your mind.”
She huffed out a breath. “I can’t imagine what those other things might be.”
He shrugged. “Making a home for yourself somewhere. Somewhere safe. Somewhere you don’t have to live each day wondering when the Nedwuts will finally catch you napping. Having the opportunity to discover what it’s like to do things you actually enjoy instead of the things forced upon you by your situation. Earning a living rather than having to steal to keep from starving. Those are just a few of the—”
“You were right.” She’d blurted out the words before she knew what she was saying. “Pelarus wants me the way he wanted my mother. At least, that’s what some of the Nedwuts have told me. I’ve had to pay off some of them more than once. That last group was different, though. I think Pelarus may have figured out why all the thugs he’s sent after me haven’t been successful and hired new hunters.” With a shrug, she continued. “Of course, they were as easily bribed as any of the others. Taking real money instead of the promise of a reward appeals to them.” She leaned forward, clasping her hands in front of her. “He should’ve figured that out by now.”
“Maybe he’s too stupid to think of a better way to catch you.”
She glanced at Moe as he spoke. He was sitting quietly in a straight-backed wooden chair. Why then, was he so…fascinating? He’d caught her eye even while sitting at a table in the bar. Now that she knew more about him, he was more captivating than ever. He even smelled good—unlike her, which he’d been gracious enough not to mention when they’d been discussing her lack of proper hygiene. Had she simply given up and become Pelarus’s concubine, she would’ve had sufficient food and drink, perhaps even enough water to bathe now and then. If only she didn’t find him so repulsive, aside from the fact that he was old enough to be her father, she might have consented.
“Pelarus is many things,” she said. “But he’s not unintelligent, although he’s more of a bully than a mastermind. He does have power, however, and he uses that power to intimidate the locals. I’ve watched him sometimes. The way he talks to them…he never stops talking. Never gives them the opportunity to say a word to oppose him. He just keeps right on telling the same lies over and over again until they have no choice but to agree. This place where we live…the Barrens. The way I heard it, he’s the reason no one lives here. Two factions opposed him. They would’ve cooperated and taken him down if he hadn’t turned them against one another. Then he cut off their water supply, and those who hadn’t already died of the wounds they received in battle died from dehydration. Water is like currency here. It’s also a bargaining chip or a form of coercion, and Pelarus controls most of it. He is much despised, but there doesn’t seem to be anything that can be done to stop him.”
To her surprise, Moe actually let out a sigh of apparent relief. “Thank the gods,” he exclaimed. “At last, someone I can vent my anger on with no regrets.”
“Your anger?”
He laughed. “Why else would I take on a full-grown Herp in a barroom brawl? I was angry, and I’ve been angry for months.” His next sigh was more regretful than relieved. “I sure wish I knew why.”
“That sort of behavior isn’t normal for you?”
“Not really. But the reason for that is a question for another day. Better get some rest while you still can.” He actually smiled—a smile that affected her almost as much as his rumbling breathing had done. “Don’t worry. I’ll wake you if any Nedwuts come calling.”
Nodding, she rose from the sofa. “I’m sure you will.” She glanced toward the doorway, realizing she would have to pass by him to reach it. What would happen if she touched him in passing? Let her fingers trail through his long, curly locks? His hair would probably feel the same as hers. Nothing special about it, except that it was part of him. She’d touched him before—had helped Nexbit and Temfilk put him
in the speeder. Then when he escaped—twice—he’d managed to capture her. Being pinned against the wall and to the floor should have been the most terrifying moments of her life. And yet, while they were certainly memorable, those incidents were in no way terrifying.
Opting for a simple “Good night” with no touching whatsoever, she left the room. She even held her breath as she passed by him. Somehow his scent followed her until she could no longer go without breathing. Her inhalation was more of a gulp of air than a simple breath. And his scent flowed into her nose and lungs, triggering an emotion she couldn’t identify.
She’d never felt the need to label her feelings before. Yet now, as she walked the long corridor to her room, she wished she could because this feeling was completely new. So new, she not only didn’t know its name, she didn’t have the slightest inkling of what she could or should do about it.
At least she didn’t make my dick hard.
That was about the only positive spin Moe could put on his most recent encounter with Klara. Granted, he now had a villain to combat, but that wouldn’t solve everything.
I can’t believe I let myself purr.
He wasn’t some teenage kid dying to take his Zetithian sexuality out for a trial run. He’d already done that a few times, and he wasn’t proud of the outcome. Sure, he’d heard all the hype, but he’d never truly believed that Zetithian lubricating fluid and semen, or snard as it was called in the mother tongue, could actually trigger chemically induced orgasms in females. He’d proved it all right. He just wasn’t very happy with himself for experimenting with girls he didn’t love. They probably hadn’t loved him, either. But that didn’t mean they didn’t want more of him.
He’d assumed the first one was a fluke, that she’d simply reacted the way she’d been told she would react. The second one had never heard of Zetithians before, although since she lived on Rhylos, he found that a little difficult to believe. Zetithians had been in the news enough that she should have known something, although she might’ve been too young to take notice of current events when the most highly publicized events took place. The third had simply been curious enough to seek him out, even though she admitted that any Zetithian guy would do. Larry had turned her down. Moe was simply the next on her list.
Of course, all of that took place when he was in his late teens. He’d wised up a bit since then. At least, he hoped he had. Being a celibate Zetithian male wasn’t all that difficult. Without the scent of a woman’s desire, he couldn’t get it up anyway. Besides, he wanted to be loved for himself rather than the sexual fireworks he could create without even trying.
That was another problem with Zetithian sexuality. Having evolved to entice their own relatively disinterested females, their effect on women was overkill for most other species. Terrans were particularly susceptible, and there were plenty of humans scattered throughout the galaxy. Still, human females weren’t impossible to avoid. As a freighter pilot, a large majority of Moe’s contacts were male, and he’d learned to steer clear of spaceport brothels long ago.
Hookers loved Zetithians. The pleasure they gave far exceeded any received from clients of other species. The men were pleasant and law-abiding as a rule, and hurting women went against their most basic instincts.
Trag was the most likely one to blame for the way hookers tended to mob any Zetithian they spotted. Those women had their own galaxy-wide database, and any Zetithian wandering into their lairs was automatically tagged as a choice client. Which apparently was how Klara had been conceived. Moe wasn’t the least bit sorry she’d been born, but the more he heard about the harrowing life she’d led, the happier he was to have kept his dick firmly in his trousers while giving brothels a very wide berth. No child of his was going to live that way. Not if he could help it.
That determination was yet another reason to escape from Haedus Nine. Klara had hissed at him twice, and he’d purred while in her presence. She was obviously ignorant of their species’ mating behaviors. The attraction between them was already apparent, and the more time they spent together, the more likely they were to mate. If and when that happened, he wanted to be well on the way to somewhere—anywhere—else. His children might be conceived on Haedus Nine, but he was damned if he would let them be born there.
Of course, all of this was assuming either of them lived long enough to get the chance to mate. The trouble with paying hush money was that you had to keep paying it. Moe could only assume Klara had used most of the credits he’d had to get those Nedwuts to forget they’d ever seen her. She might have even needed to pay them an additional fee to regain custody of him.
Mother of the gods, that sounds weird. Almost as if he were a young child whose parents were in the process of splitting up. Although to be honest, this was probably a worse scenario than that. Instead of being shared between estranged parents, he had actually joined a gang of outlaws.
Moe had never had to stoop to thievery to survive, but there was a first time for everything. His only other alternative was to do the whole gladiator bit and hope he didn’t wind up dead.
There was a problem with that option, though. Moe had never killed anyone, and he hated the idea of voluntarily entering a competition where he would be required to kill his opponent. It would be different if he were to have no choice in the matter. It was the voluntary part he couldn’t stomach.
“I’m thinking too much,” he muttered to himself, and made a mental note never to volunteer to stand guard alone again. Even hanging out with the Racks was better than dwelling on his own disturbing thoughts. The funny thing was he’d never actually spoken with a Rackensprie before. He wasn’t even sure if they could talk well enough for him to understand them. The best he could tell, all they ever did was chatter amongst themselves. He would have to ask Klara about that.
Should’ve done that while she was here.
Purely to divert his mind, he got up and peered through a chink in the shutters. The street outside was empty, save for the occasional bits of debris stirred up by the fierce winds. He was about to sit back down when movement across the way caught his eye. It could have been one of those dwithan things, except that if Nexbit was too big to be convincing as a dwithan, this was no dwithan. What he’d seen was roughly the size of a Nedwut.
Scanning the street in all directions revealed nothing that shouldn’t have been there. But if he’d been a Nedwut hunting Klara and her gang, surrounding the building and surprising them at night would be his tactic of choice, and tonight’s howling wind would provide excellent cover.
Nevertheless, he waited a few moments until he glimpsed the wave of a furry paw, the gleam of moonlight on the barrel of a pulse rifle. Attack was imminent.
Time to wake the troops.
Moe had almost reached the room where Nexbit lay sleeping when a blast nearly knocked him off his feet.
With no further need for silence, he yelled “Nedwuts!” at the top of his lungs.
Klara came flying out of the room across the hall, fully clothed and armed to the teeth, proving she probably hadn’t taken his advice and tried to sleep. The Racks came scurrying from their room like a pack of rats fleeing from a fire—an apt simile because their room really was on fire. Nexbit and Temfilk came running from their rooms only to collide with each other in the hall.
Moe closed his eyes, mapping out the floor plan in his head. Fire to the left meant Nedwuts to the right, which was the direction he’d been looking when he’d seen them.
“We need to go out that way,” he said, pointing toward the fire.
“Are you out of your Zetithian mind?” Temfilk screamed. “We’ll be burned to a crisp!”
“Trust me,” Moe said grimly. “This is our only chance. As dry as this place is, we only have a few seconds.”
“He’s right,” Klara shouted. “They’ll be covering the exits. Blast a hole in the wall!” She pointed inside the room next to the fire. “Aim for that corner with narrow pulse beams. On my mark. Ready, aim, fire!”
&nbs
p; Moe had to hand it to her, she had trained her henchmen well. Without question or hesitation, they followed her commands to the letter. The wall splintered but didn’t give, which surprised the hell out of Moe. As flimsy as most of the structures in the Barrens were, he expected it to shatter into a million pieces.
“Again,” Klara shouted. “Fire!”
This time, the wall responded appropriately, giving way with an opening large enough for them to get through one at a time. The three Racks hopped through and disappeared into the night. Nexbit transformed into something Moe had never seen before, but it was long and skinny with four stubby legs, a long snout, and a tail. If this was a dwithan, it was big enough to scare the shit out of anyone encountering it. After Nexbit slithered out, Moe went next and crouched beside the hole in the wall, then motioned for Klara and Temfilk to follow. “Come on,” he whispered. “I’ll cover you.”
As it turned out, cover fire was unnecessary. With no Nedwuts posted on that side of the building, the way was clear, but Moe had no idea which direction to take.
Klara obviously did. “We’ll meet at the rendezvous point,” she said, then darted across the deserted street and melted into the shadows.
“Be nice if she’d bothered to tell me where that was,” Moe muttered.
Temfilk sucked several fingertips onto Moe’s arm and gave it a tug. “I’ll show you.” He took off running, dragging Moe along behind him.
Captive Page 7
