So what the hell had happened back in that storeroom in the tavern?
He hadn't expected her to kiss him back, that's what the hell had happened, and he sure as hell hadn't thought she'd kiss like that. Like a fallen angel. All hot sweetness and aggressive passion.
He'd had to face Creed and Kerey, but they hadn't said anything. They'd looked from him to the disappearing figure of Elyse as she strode from the tavern, but they hadn't said a word. For that, he was grateful.
Bidding them a hasty farewell, he hurried after Elyse. Falling into step beside her, they had walked in silence. He didn't know what to say, so he opted for saying nothing at all. It seemed safer. Obviously she thought the same thing, for not a word passed her lips.
As they walked, the air seemed to clear the last remnants of desire from his traitorous body. Pushing the troubling thoughts from his mind, Shaque followed Elyse into the ship.
In silence they'd gone their separate ways, she to the control cabin and he to his own cabin. He'd expected the ship to have left the planet, but when he glanced out of his cabin space shield twenty minutes later, it was to find that they were still in the docking bay.
That didn't bode well. It also meant he had to go and look for Elyse.
What the hell was he? A man or a vagrat? Angry at himself for even hesitating, he stalked from the cabin and went in search of her.
She wasn't in the control cabin, nor her own cabin or the cargo hold. The laser pits were empty. Which meant she could only be in the dining cabin.
The thought of facing her with the memory of their kiss still burnt into his mind as though branded there, made Shaque pause. But not for long.
Straightening his shoulders, he kept his expression cold and calm and walked into the dining cabin. Elyse was leaning back against the little bench, a mug of hot una in her hand. She met his gaze levelly, though her cheeks were slightly flushed.
"Why aren't we on our way?” he asked coldly.
"I think you should bail."
"Oh, do you just?” An argument he could handle. Oh yeah, he could definitely handle an argument.
She took a sip of the hot liquid. “Pack your bag and go to your hunter friends."
Bracing his legs apart and folding his arms across his chest, he stared at her. “What brought this on?"
"Don't be an idiot."
"The kiss was to throw the peacekeepers off, and it worked."
"I meant my eyes."
"Your eyes?"
"Com on, Shaque. You know.” Impatiently, she put the mug down on the bench with a sharp rap.
"Your eyes went red. So?"
"I can't control it. All right?” The cool façade was slipping a little. “I didn't know my eyes had changed until you told me."
"So? We're in the Outlaw Sector. What the hell does it matter if your eyes change? It's not like the law will see it."
"I didn't know they'd changed. There was no warning. That means I don't know what else might happen with no warning, all right? You need to go."
"Like hell. We're in this together, woman."
"I'll still look for Nerissa, and I'll relay the information back to you."
"You don't go anywhere without me by your side."
"You're being stubborn, hunter. Stick with me and you could find yourself..."
"What?” Closing the distance between them, he stopped with only a foot separating them. Hands on his hips, he glared coldly down at her. “Go on. Finish that sentence."
Her lips tightened. “You could find yourself dead."
"So? Isn't that what's going to happen sooner or later between us anyway?"
"In a fair fight."
He arched one brow coldly. “So?"
"Me going mutant isn't what I'd call a fair fight."
"I'll tell you what.” He raked his gaze over her face. “When you turn mutant and get too dangerous, I'll just shoot you. How's that?"
She stared at him for several seconds, then she started laughing. Loud. And long. Leaning back against the counter, her head thrown back, she laughed merrily.
Her laughter was light, infectious, and totally different to how he thought she'd sound. Then again, Elyse and laughter weren't something Shaque had ever thought would go together.
So he simply looked at her, wondering what she found so funny.
Wiping her eyes, she chuckled. “Is that a promise?"
"Yeah, that's a promise,” he replied. “Now what's so damned funny?"
"Don't worry about it.” Walking past him, she patted him on the shoulder, again taking him by surprise. “Let's go."
Turning to watch her, Shaque queried, “That's it? I promise to kill you if you go mutant and you're fine with that?"
Stopping in the doorway, she looked back at him over her shoulder. “Yeah. Aren't you?"
He didn't really have to think about it. “Yeah."
"So there's nothing else to discuss, is there?” She left the cabin.
And Shaque was really glad she didn't want to discuss what had transpired between them. In fact, it was something he'd sooner forget.
* * * *
Setting the coordinates for Vultan, Elyse sent out a call on the frequency for Uncle Cy, then sat back as the ship lifted off the planet and soared into the sky, and then into deep space.
Staring at the stars through the space shield, she ran her tongue reflectively along her lips. She could almost still taste Shaque. His masculine flavour, his clean scent ... the sensation of his hard body against her own.
Kissing her had been a good idea. It had got them out of what was potentially a dangerous situation. If the peacekeepers had seen her eyes ... everyone knew the mutant inside her was supposed to have gone. If the law found out, she'd be taken prisoner with no excuses and brought back to the Intergalactic Peace Ship. No way was she going to allow that to happen. Especially not now.
So Shaque's plan had worked. It was the only thing that had saved him from having his lights punched out. That and the puzzle of the sensations she'd felt shiver through her at the touch and taste of him.
She'd never been kissed before, and that was the bold truth. No man kissed her, no man touched her in any way except a friendly pat on the shoulder, and even that was extremely rare. Oh yeah, and the odd brawl she used to get into. The only man to ever hug her had been Uncle Cy. The Saalm medics didn't count.
So she was surprised at how she'd reacted to Shaque's kiss. Every thought had been swept from her mind, the only thing surging through her ... heat. She'd wanted to press nearer, harder, wanted to rip his shirt from his back and feel that smooth, warm skin beneath her hands. Wanted to push him to the floor, slam him against the wall, be slammed against the wall and have him take her—
God Almighty! Taking a deep breath, Elyse rubbed her forehead. Her mutant genes were going bloody haywire. She'd never felt desire before, not for anyone. Shaque had been the only man to ever interest her, and that was more predator facing predator, nothing more. Unfinished business, a man who matched her in fighting skills. A man as cold and controlled as she herself was at all times.
Pulling the bottle of medicine from her pocket, she tipped a pill into her hand and swallowed it. That should help with the red eyes, and put a stop to these unwanted desires! Nodding to herself, she relaxed back in the chair. Lifting her legs, she crossed her ankles and set them atop the console. Leaning back, she linked her hands behind her head and allowed the familiar sight of stars and planets to lull her soothingly into a half doze.
* * * *
The slave ship flew through space at a good rate. The slaver, Crighton, sat at the table in his quarters, adding up the sales of his slaves. In all, he'd made enough dinnos to afford a bigger ship with more holding cells. He was more than happy.
"Sir, there's a ship approaching.” Vax stuck his head around the door.
"What do they want?” He raked the dinnos back into the pouches.
"Space pirates."
Crighton looked up. “Who?"
; Vax swallowed. “Fredrico."
"Shit!” Heart thudding, he sprang to his feet. “What does he want?"
"To board.” Vax chewed his lip worriedly.
Crighton wiped his face with hands that trembled. Fredrico. The Overlord's right-hand man. What could he possibly want?
"Sir?” Vax stared at him. “What do we do?"
"Do?” The slaver stared back at him. “Do? You idiot! Let him aboard!"
Vax scurried away, and Crighton rushed to the space shield to look out. Sure enough, the sleek, black, space pirate ship was approaching. But it wasn't the sight of the menacing sleek metal that made him quake. It was the fact that the stars behind it were slightly obliterated, as though some vague, shadowy figure hovered behind the ship.
Some vague, shadowy, huge, monstrous figure. For a second he though he saw a toss of horns and a muzzle with an outline of sharp teeth. The shadow faded, came back, but now he couldn't make out anything except that it was bigger than the ship. Bigger. So much bigger. If it was even there.
He actually felt his bowels rumble.
Unable to keep looking, he turned away from the space shield to face the door and wait for the space-pirate. Wait for The Overlord's right-hand man. Wait for what had once been a care-free space pirate who was now shadowed by the hellish things that kept The Overlord company. A space pirate who had seen more than any mortal should see, and whose crew was as damned as he himself.
There wasn't enough time for the tunnels to link, but one second Crighton was alone and the next Fredrico stood in the doorway looking at him.
It wasn't possible. It wasn't possible! There had been no time to link the tunnels!
Trying to hide the trembling of his hands, Crighton gestured to the table. “Would you care to sit and have refreshments—"
"I am here for one of your slaves,” Fredrico said quietly.
"A slave?” Crighton was confused. “Why do you want a slave?"
Ruthless eyes cut to him. “Give me the girl."
"The-the girl?” Crighton swallowed. “There are many girls. Do you wish one buxom? Brunette? Slim? I—"
"There is only one girl I am interested in.” He stepped back. “Take me to the cells."
There was no way Crighton was going to argue. Hurrying past Fredrico, he flinched when he felt something touch him, slide over his skin and trail away. In his mind he heard the echo of demonic laughter. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and almost ran out the door.
In the corridor stood two of Fredrico's men. Carto, a hard-eyed, dark-haired man who was Fredrico's second-in-command, and another man Crighton didn't know, a hulking brute with his hand missing. Where his flesh and blood hand used to be, was a metal hand. The fingers made a small whirring sound as they flexed, the joints rasping, metal on metal, when the fingers weren't far enough apart.
They fell into step behind Fredrico. They, and something else dark and shadowy that Crighton could only glimpse from the corner of his eye. And it was something he didn't want to catch sight of, so he kept his gaze on the corridor ahead of him.
The men followed in silence as he led them down the corridor, into an elevator and down to the second floor which housed the female slaves. The cells lined the corridor, metal doors in front of each individual cell.
Stopping, Crighton gestured to the cells. “I can have them opened for you—"
"No need.” Fredrico walked past him.
Crighton watched as the lean space pirate walked slowly down the corridor, turning his head slowly from side to side as he passed the doors to the cells. Halfway down he stopped and turned to face a cell door. For several seconds he looked at it before nodding to Crighton.
Hurriedly, Crighton moved down the cell block to the door. Keying in the code, he pushed the door open and stood back to allow Fredrico to enter. Carto and the metal-handed man stopped outside the cell, waiting.
What could Fredrico possibly want with the girl? Crighton looked at her. She was a child. No breasts, thin, scared. But then, some men liked little girls. He hadn't pegged Fredrico as being one of them, but then again, who knew?
Or maybe the child was for The Overlord. Crighton studied her closer. If so, why?
When Fredrico had entered the cell, the girl had looked up from where she sat on the bunk. Her eyes widened in fear when she saw him, and Crighton could tell she recognized him. When Fredrico approached, she pushed her back against the wall, here eyes going wider in fear. He said something, crouched down in front of her so no one but the girl could see his face. Reaching out, he cupped her small chin in his hand, his thumb brushing along her cheek.
Trembling, the girl swallowed hard, her gaze lifting pleadingly to Crighton over Fredrico's shoulder. He merely shrugged. She was a slave, nothing more. He really didn't care. All he knew was that if Fredrico or The Overlord wanted her, then they could have her and good riddance. As long as the space pirate and his spooky men got off his slave ship as fast as possible.
Fredrico said something quietly to her, and she started to shake her head in panic. Standing suddenly, he held out his hand, but she bit her lip, tears welling in her eyes. Her thin chest rose and fell quickly as fear gripped her.
The light flickered overhead, and something seemed to fill the cell. A brief darkness. The girl went quiet, her eyes unfocused, and docilely she placed her hand in Fredrico's. He drew her to her feet, and keeping her hand in his, turned and strode from the cell, brushing past Crighton without a word.
His two men fell into step behind him and they walked down the corridor again.
By the time Crighton had shut the door and coded it again, they had disappeared from view around the corner of the corridor. The elevator doors slid shut just as he neared, and he swore to himself. But he had to admit he was relieved that he didn't have to go in the same enclosed space as the cursed—truly cursed—space pirates.
By the time the elevator returned and he went up in it, the space pirates were gone. They'd left the ship, but no one had seen them go.
Rushing to the space shield in the control cabin, Crighton saw the sleek, black pirate ship veer sharply away from his own ship and swoop back into the black void of space, the bright glitter of stars partially obliterated by something—
He was not going to even think about it!
With trembling hands, he picked up the pouches of dinnos and then realized that he hadn't even been paid for the girl. He figured it didn't really matter. If the Overlord or Fredrico wanted her, then he certainly didn't want the child near him. He didn't want to have any closer contact to The Overlord than he'd just had with his right-hand man.
And even Fredrico, he could do without seeing again for the rest of his life.
* * * *
Phemar hissed in a low breath, his face hidden by the hood of his cape.
"Well?” The Overlord sat quietly in his throne, one hand on the head of a naked slave girl, who mewed in ecstasy at his touch.
"She sensed me. She is strong.” Phemar raised one hand, the flesh upon it mottled and faintly green with rot. “Sensed me. Smelled me. The mutant in her knows me."
"Ah.” The Overlord's pupils dilated. “How very interesting."
Veknor entered quietly, waiting for The Overlord to look at him. When he did, Veknor stated, “Fredrico has the girl."
"Good. So very good.” The lipless mouth tugged up into a heartless of a smile. “So very, very good."
Silence fell upon the room. Phemar bowed his head, looking into the flames from the fireplace. The sparks flew as a chunk of wood dropped into place.
The Overlord continued to stroke the head of the slave girl, who writhed in whimpering pleasure.
Veknor slipped out of the chamber.
* * * *
Stepping out into the docking bay on Vultan, Elyse looked at the caped and hooded figure of Shaque. “You're as stupid as a hound's arse."
"So you've said already.” He peered around cautiously.
"You'd want to be cautious, hunter. Every man
here would give his eye teeth to get hold of you. Not to mention a few women."
Shaque didn't answer, nor did he seem overly worried. And that certainly didn't surprise her. She figured if the hunter was ever openly worried, then she'd have just cause to be too. And that did surprise her on some deep level. Trusting the reactions of others wasn't something she did easily.
Keeping the hood drawn over his face enough to cast his features in shadow, Shaque strode along beside Elyse. His hands brushed the lasers strapped to his thighs with every sure step he took. Under the hood he wore a black wig and had dyed his skin to a deep swarthiness. No one at first or even second glance would think he was Shaque, the blonde Knifer.
Elyse had no real idea where to find the girl child they were looking for, but she knew if she asked around enough, someone would point the girl out to her. The fact that she knew a few of the people here helped.
The settlement was as busy as ever, hard-eyed outlaws brushing shoulders with equally hard-eyed space pirates. Mercenaries who fought for the Lords on warring sectors strode past. Petty thieves dodged around the tougher elements of the settlement.
If any of them even suspected a bounty hunter walked amongst them, there'd be hell to pay. It did make life interesting. Elyse smiled mentally.
Her first port of call was the tavern that her Uncle always called into. He wasn't there, she saw when she peered in, but he would be arriving at some time. Meanwhile, they'd continue the search for the girl who might lead them straight to Shaque's sister, and thereby stopping any further searching. For now.
For Shaque.
It was just the beginning for her.
Using the computer's technology, she'd managed to come up with a decent sketch of the girl, and this she showed to the store keepers. Most just glanced at it and shook their heads, but the third one nodded.
"One of Celia's strays,” the woman stated. “Haven't seen her for a while."
"Celia or the stray?” Elyse queried, pocketing the sketch.
"The stray.” The woman frowned. “Come to think of it, I haven't seen Celia for weeks."
"Weeks?” Elyse looked steadily at her. “You only just now noticed?"
Soul of a Predator Page 17
