by Jack Archer
“That old LASSO?” Kyran let out a bark of a laugh, standing back and nodding for Cobalt to unlock the cage. As he did, Kyran leaned back against the wall, hiking a foot up against it and folding his arms across his chest. “It’s busted. Our Panther really did a number on your engines, sorry to say.”
“Where the hell are we?” Rystar asked. Cobalt leaned down and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, his dusty brown hair falling into his face to obscure it. The handcuffs fell off, and she brought her hands around to her front, rubbing her wrists.
Kyran smiled at them as Cobalt moved to Na’gya, fussing around his wings to get the handcuffs off. “Holding cell. Got two more just like it down here on the lower floor. Ain’t a nicer ship you humans made in all the Bubble.”
“A bunch of aliens think humans make the best ships?” Rystar huffed.
Kyran pulled a face and looked towards the ceiling. “We’re good at a lot of things. Shipbuilding ain’t one of them. These LASSOs are the best we could find. And this one is top of the line, straight from Aurum itself.”
“You went to Aurum?” Rystar stopped massaging her wrists to gaze at Kyran with wonder.
“Sure,” Kyran said, “not like they wanted me there, though.”
Cobalt chuckled and finished taking Shea’s handcuffs off before pulling him up and leading him out of the cell. Rystar jumped to her feet and called after him. “Where are you taking him?”
“Relax, Tracker Princess,” Kyran said and pushed himself off the wall, standing in the doorway to the cage to block her path. He was a lot shorter than he looked while Rystar was on the ground, only a few inches taller than her. She was close enough to smell the blood on his breath, the space dust on his clothes, a sweet mix of low-temperature minerals and copper that made the hair on her arms stand on end. “You each have a room unless you and your buddy there don’t need separate beds?”
She bristled at the cock of his eyebrow and straightened up as much as she could. “Just take me to my room and show me where I can shower.”
Chapter Two
Rystar Umara: DSV Firehawk, Omyuch System
Kyran looked her over once more before grinning and stepping back, sweeping an arm in the direction of the door. Na’gya followed behind her while Kyran headed the rear. Swooping past them both after they stepped through the doorway, he took the lead and beckoned them down another lavish hallway and up a flight of stairs.
At the top, they stopped, and Rystar gasped. This Mach IV was a hell of a ship.
They stood in a large, circular foyer with rooms on all sides and a hallway in front of them. “This is the crew’s quarters, where you all will be staying on this trip. Mine are upstairs. If you need to get to me, ring me on the comms tablet. I don’t like unexpected visitors.”
He pointed to a room on their right and faced Na’gya. “That one’s yours. You’ll find a spare set of clothes fit for a prince in there.”
“I told you, I’m not—” Na’gya began, but Kyran held up a hand.
“Yeah, yeah, not a prince,” he huffed. “Whatever. Son of a king. And your room, Princess” —he pointed to a room on their left— “is just here. Bathroom and all. Dinner will be served in about two hours down the hall there. Show up or don’t.”
“Where are you taking us?” Na’gya asked, holding his arms out.
Kyran beamed at him. “You’ll just have to join us at dinner to find out.”
He turned on his high-heeled boot and sauntered down the hallway, and Rystar, damn her, couldn’t help but watch him as he left. The leather left nothing to the imagination.
“I’m taking a shower,” Na’gya said with a shrug, smirking at the horrified look on Rystar’s face. “We’re stuck here, may as well take advantage of it.”
Rystar watched as he disappeared into his room and sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She had no idea where Shea was but assumed they had taken him to one of the bedrooms down the hall. She was in the middle of an unfamiliar ship without a way off, and she had no idea where in the universe she was. They could be five jumps away from Chantakor now.
Stomping off towards her room, she slammed the door and spun around to see the most beautiful view. Kyran, or whoever the pilot was, had parked their ship outside of a neutron star, and it danced outside of her window, the two cones of blue light twisting wildly around a tiny ball of gas. It took her a moment to snap out of it, but she finally did and headed straight for the shower, using as much hot water she could in retaliation for her kidnapping.
She rustled through the clothes in the tiny closet, finding a clean pair of jeans and a tank top. Her dirty clothes lay on the bed, and she hated feeling so exposed, but the ship’s temperature was nice, and it wouldn’t hurt to look presentable for once.
When it was time, she exited her room and headed to Na’gya’s door, knocking twice and waiting a moment for him to answer. The door opened, and his face stuck out, relaxing when he saw it was her. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. Rystar assumed he hadn’t been able to find one that fit his wings anywhere on the ship.
“Are you ready to eat?” she asked.
“Sure,” he answered, opening the door a little more and walking out of it awkwardly, his wings bumping the doorframe the entire way out. He smirked at her as he shut the door. “Ship wasn’t made with Ya’ados like me in mind.”
“Well, that’s what you’re trying to fix, isn’t it?” she asked as they walked down the hall together.
“Mostly.” Na’gya nodded and looked around, stopping as they got to the elevator that would lead them to the dining hall, entering it when the doors opened. “Where is your friend? I didn’t see where they put him.”
“I’m going to ask that insufferable vampire now,” Rystar grumbled and waited for the doors to shut. The elevator shuddered and came to a stop, opening to a spacious area that housed a large round table and small kitchen in the corner. Someone stood in the kitchen area, so focused on their cooking, they didn’t notice the two enter the room. At the table sat Kyran and Cobalt along with the other man with his black hair in a bun, and—
“Shea!” Rystar burst out and lunged towards the table, wrapping her arms around the taller man and burying her face in his shoulder.
“Good to see you, too,” Shea said, a little muffled from Rystar’s embrace. She pulled back and studied him closely.
“Did they hurt you?” she asked and narrowed her eyes.
“Of course not,” Shea said, shaking his head.
“Hey Lupe!” Kyran called, reaching over the back of his seat to face the cooking person. “Treat these folks like royalty tonight, alright?”
“You got it, boss,” Lupe responded, chopping away at some unknown substance.
“Listen, Kyran,” Na’gya sat down at the table and fixed Kyran with a pleading gaze, “I can’t stay here, you know that.”
Kyran leaned forward, matching Na’gya’s look with his own. “I need you to help us. If you can do that, I’ll take you wherever you need to go. I’ll take you to the Hoop.”
Na’gya’s eyes flashed, and the corners of his mouth drew up in a smile. “You’ll take me?”
Kyran nodded.
“Then I’ll do whatever you need me to.” Na’gya laid his palms on the table and nodded as if that settled the matter.
“And us?” Rystar brought the conversation back to her and her poor partner, stranded in the middle of nowhere, caught amid some intergalactic feud.
Kyran stood up, facing Rystar and patting the back of his chair. “I think we should talk in my quarters.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” Rystar said, puffing her chest out. “Lead the way, then.”
Kyran bowed his head and waved to his crew before setting off down the hall, Rystar close on his heels.
“Alright, asshole.”
When the door closed behind them, Kyran turned to face her with that idiot smug smile on his face, small teeth except for the razor fang incisors that hung across his lower lip. She shuddered, f
eeling his eyes rake across her body.
“I think you should start over, sweetheart,” Kryan drawled, pulling up far too close to Rystar and ending up a foot from her face, hands on his hips and all but licking his lips at her. With her coat and vest hanging back in her room, her new prison cell, she felt naked, tight jeans hugging every inch of her legs and tank top stuck to her torso like it was wet.
It was the worst time to feel that familiar punch in her lower gut, the tingling settling around in her stomach as Kyran inched closer to her, boots clacking on the metal beneath him.
She snapped out of it, letting her anger ebb away before jabbing a finger in his chest. “I want off this ship. I want my LASSO fixed, and I want Shea, Na’gya, and I gone by tomorrow morning. This is our bounty. I won’t have it taken away by some vampire in a leather suit.”
For a second, Kyran’s red eyes flashed with fire, but the moment it had appeared, it vanished. He tilted his head, bright red hair falling into his eyes. He brushed it away with long fingers, and Rystar’s mouth watered. She didn’t know if she wanted to punch him or fuck him.
Maybe both.
“Ain’t a vamp,” he mumbled, voice laced with venom, and Rystar could almost taste it on her lips. “And we need Na’gya far more than you do. You just want him for the money.”
“Money that can save my department,” Rystar spat back at him. “I don’t know what your agenda is, but I’m sure you have other ways to further it. We found Na’gya first, fair and square.”
“You assume I play by your human rules,” Kryan chuckled, moving closer to her. Rystar moved back, hitting the wall behind her and swallowing hard but keeping her head up. “But you’re not like most humans.”
Rystar cocked an eyebrow at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Most of you tend to run from Sustris,” Kryan explained, “especially rogue, bands of them like me and my crew. But you…” He smiled an evil, stupidly sexy grin and pushed his chin up to look down at her with fire in his eyes. “You faced us with guns blazing. Once we crippled you, that is.”
“So?” Rystar’s voice quavered, and she could tell Kyran sensed it. He moved in and put a hand on the wall behind her.
“So,” he drew out, so close to her now that she could smell his cologne and the coppery tinge on his breath, “I like that.”
“I’m sure I could take a thousand vamps like you—”
With a sharp gasp, Kyran’s right hand came up and wrapped around her throat, not squeezing, but there as a threat.
“I told you,” he hissed, inches from her lips, “we ain’t vamps, sugar.”
“And I’m not your sugar,” Rystar muttered, her voice hardly restricted but wanting his hand to squeeze down further anyway. She pushed the feeling down and swept her right arm up and over his, pulling her elbow down and then back to clock him directly in the nose.
He flew back, hands clasping his face as she rubbed at her throat subconsciously, wishing the grip was back. She made no move to leave, and as he stood up, hand over his nose, she could see the dark red river flowing from it and shuddered.
“Damn,” he muttered, his voice muffled from the bloody nose. He looked down at the red on his hand and back up at Rystar. Inexplicably, he smirked. “Been a while since someone’s drawn blood on me.”
“And it won’t be the last time if you don’t let us go,” Rystar threatened, feeling some of the bravado seep away from her at the sight of Kyran with a bloody nose. It dripped down his face and as he wiped it away, red streaks contrasted with his pale cheeks, and she had to kick herself to stay focused.
She had underestimated the Sustri’s superior strength and quickness, and before she knew it, he had both of her wrists in his hands and pinned against the wall next to the door. A knee slid between her legs and pushed up, making her stand on her tiptoes. She forced herself to look up at the ceiling, away from the not-so-alien vampire staring her down.
Except she felt the erection pressed against her thigh, and it made her mouth water. How she hated this man for stealing her bounty, for sauntering into her life with his perfect ass, stupid smile, and the promise of teeth on her neck. She finally looked back at him before flicking her eyes down. “Are you going to do something about that?’
Kyran narrowed his eyes at her before shifting, squeezing his fingers around her throat again and drawing a moan out from Rystar.
“You’re strange for a human,” he muttered and brushed their lips together.
“I’ve been called worse,” Rystar replied, her voice a little strained now from the pressure. She felt light-headed like she did after a shot or two of Charlom, and it made her weak in the knees. Rubbing herself against his thigh, she let out a snort as a flash of confusion shot across Kyran’s eyes.
Rystar cocked her head. “Do you do this with all the ladies you intimidate?”
“Not exactly,” Kryan breathed, pulling that same grin onto his face and letting his sharp teeth drag across her bottom lip. “Lucky you.”
“Kyran?”
The hand vanished from her throat, and she dropped to her feet, taking in a sharp breath to fill her lungs again. A tall man, the same who had taken Na’gya when they arrived on the Mach IV, had poked his head through the door. Kyran still stood close to Rystar but had put his hands on his hips and turned to face the intruder.
“What can I do for you, Enzo?” Kyran asked, the flush in his cheeks creeping away.
Enzo tapped on the door frame with his fingers and flicked amber eyes towards Rystar before turning back to Kyran. “We’ve got Terran LASSOs on our tail, scoping the system. We have to jump.”
Kyran’s brow furrowed, and he pursed his lips, staring at Enzo. “Tell Lupe to take us to Nitran.”
“Nitran?” Enzo repeated, his glowing yellow eyes narrowing. Was everyone on this ship a stone-cold fox? “That place hasn’t been safe in… well, ever.”
“We’ll at least be safe from the Terrans,” Kyran said with a shrug. “And they’ve got all the firepower. Couple of thugs with guns don’t scare me.”
“I’ll go let him know.” Enzo patted the door frame and gave Rystar a lingering look before sliding out of view and clacking down the hall.
“We should table this discussion for later,” Kyran growled, sauntering up to her again. “I have a ship to run. You go sit downstairs somewhere and look pretty.”
Rystar cocked her hand back, but Kyran was ready this time. He caught her fist and twisted her around, gripping her in a headlock against his body.
“You got your one shot,” he muttered in her ear, “I’m still captain of this ship, and you will respect me while we’re on it.”
He shoved her away, and she braced herself on the door frame before looking back at him. “I will if you will.”
Kyran pursed his lips. “Fair enough. Stay low. The Terrans can’t be too happy with you, either.”
With a shake of her head, Rystar stomped back down the hall and towards the kitchens.
It was going to be a long way home.
“What the hell do you mean, you got kidnapped?”
Jorge’s voice housed a strange mix of disappointment and fear, and Rystar sat with her head in her hands at the edge of the bed. Shea sat next to her while Na’gya paced the floor, occasionally looking out of the window.
She had called them both there for emotional support while she called her boss, knowing full well he’d rip her a new one. It was going great so far.
“I don’t know Jorge. They have a fucking Mach IV Panther,” she replied, pinching the bridge of her nose and sighing. “What the hell was I supposed to do?”
“Take a newer model LASSO with you when you flew millions of miles across the god damn galaxy, is what!” he cried through the speaker, and Rystar tossed the comms tablet on the bed where Shea picked it up so they could hear Jorge screaming more clearly. “Especially when you’re picking up a GOD DAMN WAR CRIMINAL.”
Rystar covered her mouth with her hand and looked into the em
pty space in front of her, the guilty look on Na’gya’s face clear.
“Mister Lewis?” Na’gya asked, and Rystar looked up at him incredulously.
“Who the hell is that?” Jorge snapped.
“Na’gya Vasilev,” he replied, “son of the King and Jurat Prime of Chantakor.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Jorge hurried him, “you’re the one who got us into this mess. Well, you and that rust bucket Rystar won’t get rid of.”
“I must say that Rystar and her companion, Shea, have been nothing but professional and that this kidnapping may have been entirely my fault,” he began, wringing his hands. “And that I cannot go back to my parents.”
“What?” Jorge squawked.
“The Sustris here have—”
“Sustris?” Jorge cut in. “You were kidnapped by Sustris? Oh, Rystar, you really outdid yourself this time.”
“Did everyone know about Sustris but me?” Rystar asked. Na’gya and Shea threw her apologetic looks and shrugged. Rystar turned to Shea. “How did you know?”
Shea lifted a shoulder. “I read a lot.”
“I don’t care,” Jorge cut back in, “all I want to know is what you plan on doing to get the guy back to his parents and bring me my money.”
“With all due respect, sir,” Na’gya cut in, moving closer to the comms tablet, “if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to stay here. I’ll pay you what my parents are paying you, plus some.”
“When?” Jorge asked the question Rystar hadn’t asked yet, and she looked up at him. Na’gya raised his eyebrows in surrender and gave Rystar a smile as she put her head in her hands again.
“You don’t have the money, do you.” she said, not phrasing it as a question, just a statement she knew she should have asked to begin with.
“I will, I promise,” he said, pulling up a chair to sit in front of Rystar. “Once I get to the Hoop, I’ll—”
“Hoop?” Jorge butted in. “What’s the Hoop?”
“I… don’t actually know,” Na’gya said with a sheepish grin.
