“Let me out,” he demanded. The man clearly was used to being obeyed. The tone of his voice filled her with a strange mix of pleasure and aggravation.
She ignored the command. “What are you doing on my ship?”
“You tell me,” he snapped. “It’s not like I put myself in a shipping container.”
“Shouldn’t you try to at least sweet talk your way out of that box? You’re in no position to make demands.” She leaned over, trying to see him. All she could detect was blackness.
His answer was a grave, humorless laugh.
“How did you come to be on this ship?” she enunciated each word.
He hit the inside of the box, making her jump back a little. Her heart pounded. Calmer than before, he said, “Send me your captain. I want to talk to whoever is in charge. You obviously have no authority here.”
“I am the captain,” Violette answered, straightening. “I have complete authority here.”
“Do you?” he mocked. “Then how is it I am on your ship, and you have no idea why or how I’ve come to be here. Clearly, you do not have complete authority over this vessel because one of your crew is going about abducting people on your watch without your knowledge. You may have the honorary title of captain, but you are a figurehead and not in charge. Send me whoever has the authority to make decisions.”
“Honorary?” she gasped. No one ever dared to talk to her like that. Even when she was little, the soldiers had shown her the respect due both her family name and her father’s position within the Federation Military.
“What’s wrong, Spacecake, did I hurt your feelings?”
“Spacecake?” she repeated, her tone growing hard in her anger. “Listen here my caged semikin, you are in no position to throw around insults. At my word you’ll be left in that box to decompose!”
“So you kill innocent people to prove your rank? With such ethics, I must be on a Federation ship.” He paused before laughing. “Did you just call me a semikin?”
“You are—”
His laughter grew louder.
“You—” she tried again.
“Semikin,” he repeated, louder. He didn’t sound so threatening when he laughed.
Unsure why she made the decision, she said, “Give me a moment. I’m going to get you out of there and then we’ll figure out how you came to be delivered to my ship by mistake.” The smart thing would have been to question her crew. “We don’t take prisoners, and you hardly seem like cargo.”
“Hardly,” he repeated dryly.
“I don’t suppose it will be necessary to threaten you with what will happen to you should you try anything. We’re out in deep space. I have no problem catapulting you into oblivion.”
“Understood.”
“What manner of creature are you?” Violette hesitated. Some aliens considered what she’d just asked a complete violation of etiquette.
“Humanoid,” he answered curtly. She believed him. He sounded humanoid and spoke the well-known Old Star language.
Why was she hesitating? She was the captain. She had good instincts. This was her ship. She could defend herself if needed. Reaching between two boxes to where a laser was kept hidden, she aimed it at the latch.
“Don’t move,” Violette ordered before shooting a short blast. The lock sizzled and popped. A second later the lid burst open, and a giant red figure appeared before her. He lunged before her eyes could focus. On instinct, she jumped back and discharged a warning shot. The man growled. Violette’s hip hit the edge of a container, tripping her. She fell to the floor. The hard grated texture of the ship’s walkway bit into her skin as she slid a few inches. It was enough to rub the flesh of her side raw.
“Don’t move.” This time the order was given to her.
She blinked back the pain as she lifted her weapon. Something struck her wrist, knocking the gun from her hand. Before she knew what was happening, a large body pinned hers to the ground. Fingers gripped her wrist, pushing it down tight to the grate. She softly moaned as thighs pinned her sore hip. It wasn’t the pain so much as the close contact. It took her a moment for her eyes to focus on the man who held her.
Black eyes pierced her with their intensity. She shivered. “You.”
For an instant, she couldn’t draw breath.
He stared down at her. “You.”
“I remember you. You’re from Josselyn’s ship. The Bevlon security officer.” As she said the words, it didn’t take long for her to figure out what had probably happened. Gil.
“Devekin,” he supplied. “Dev.”
Violette rocked her body, trying to free herself. The solid wall of muscle pinning her down didn’t budge. If anything, the movement only pressed him closer, making her all too aware of how intimately they touched.
A tiny ripple of pleasure moved through her. His strength excited her, as did his hard body and piercingly dark eyes. The fact that darker lines threaded the red hue of his flesh, and the very look of him proved to be something wickedly sinful, did not bother her. She found it exciting. Sacre! She found it downright sexy. Violette’s breathing deepened. She bucked her hips again, but the motion lacked the angry bid for freedom that it had carried before.
“Captain Violette,” Dev stated. “I suspected your crew, but you gain nothing by capturing me. My people will not trade me for your sister.”
Thinking of Josselyn caused her to stiffen. “Get off me.”
He didn’t move.
“Get. Off. Me,” she ordered again.
“You’re not in a position to give me orders.” He studied her carefully.
“You’re in the middle of deep space on my ship. You’re not really in a position to not take my orders,” she answered.
The battle of wills between them was palpable, and she wasn’t sure who would come out the victor.
Chapter 9
Dev pushed to his feet, letting go of the woman he held prisoner against the floor. He’d trapped her on instinct, only seeing who she was once he had her pinned beneath him. Violette.
Beautiful Violette.
The impression of her tone flesh stung his hands and legs, arousing the deep passions he’d worked so hard to suppress. He never thought he’d touch her, not like this. His skin tingled until it ached. In the darkest hours, he’d imagined this woman, convincing himself that the only time he would see her was in battle should she try to harm Josselyn.
The rush of his nocturnal fantasies filled him, and he wished with all his might that this was a dream. If it were, she’d kiss him soon, and they would have angry, hard, sweaty sex right there on the floor. His cock ached at the very notion. All it would take was one gesture on her part to show she was willing, and he’d have her naked and impaled before she could blink.
Her voice matched her eyes—filled with passion and determination. He craved to hear her whisper his name with those sweet lips. If he’d been hopeless before, he was completely captured by her spell now. There was no explaining it. She pulled him to her like a magnet. It took everything in him to resist.
As he stood, he wanted to stretch his cramped muscles. The cargo container had not been the most comfortable of cages, but he’d been locked inside worse. While confined in the dark, the old fear had threatened him. His type wasn’t exactly safe from religious zealots, and their way of ridding the world of his kind of “evil” usually involved a rather painful and public execution.
Seeing Violette calmed that panic. This foe he could handle. She was one woman…one very exquisite, delicate, starbeam of a woman.
Blast it all!
Maybe he couldn’t handle her.
Oh, please let her kiss him. It wasn’t in him to take an unwilling woman but a single sign, that’s all his body needed.
Suddenly, she began to chuckle as she pushed herself up from the floor. He wasn’t expecting the sound, and it took him off guard. Dev wasn’t sure if he should be offended, so he held perfectly still. Her laughter grew. When he could take it no longer, he asked, “
What?”
“I was just thinking,” she said, calming herself, “no one would ever mistake a great beast of a man like you for a little semikin.”
Dev didn’t share in her humor. He saw the irony, but couldn’t force himself to smile. At his lack of participation, she sobered. He was sorry to see the merriment fade from her eyes but did nothing to bring it back.
Already he calculated a way to overtake the vessel. Seeing the captain, he could well deduce he was on Racing Banana. The ship was small. He could man it solo until he was rescued. Now, all he would have to do is determine if the layout matched what he’d studied in the VR, subdue the crew, and fly himself to a safe port if The Conqueror wasn’t close enough to answer his distress call. It should be simple enough.
“I see we are beyond pretending my being brought here was an accident,” he stated. Her lack of answer was answer aplenty. “I thought as much. What’s the plan? Ransom? Trade? Torture for information?” He arched a brow. “Slavery?”
“All valid reasons to have someone taken,” she agreed. “But I didn’t order you—”
The door slid open behind her, drawing their attention around to the front of the cargo hold.
Dev’s eyes narrowed, and he tensed. An Angelion? His hands balled instantly into fists. His father’s people were at war with the treacherous race.
“Gil, do—” Violette began.
Gil stopped, his wings spreading slightly in shock as he stared at Dev. He held an injector in his hand. It was filled with yellow liquid. This was the man who’d been trying to keep him sedated.
“What did you do?” Gil yelled at Violette. “Quick, get down!”
The injector dropped from Gil’s hand as he reached for his waist to grab his gun. Without waiting to assess the full situation, he lifted the weapon and fired. Violette jolted in surprise. Dev didn’t hesitate. He grabbed her by the arm and dove out of the way, taking her with him behind a large crate. She struggled against his hold, but he pressed her firmly to the ground to keep her safe.
“Captain?” Gil yelled. Violette moaned an answer.
Dev jumped up to face Gil. He grabbed a high crate and leaped, pulling his weight up to get a better vantage point. As he landed, he saw Gil hovering above the ground. The Angelion swung his arm up. Dev lunged at his target. He slammed into the flying brute, drawing an arm around his neck.
“Stop,” Violette yelled below them. Dev wasn’t sure which one of them she meant to command.
Gil fired off a shot. It went wild in their struggle, the blast ricocheting off a metal container. Dev swore, thinking of the woman below them. The Angelion was careless. He squeezed the trigger a couple more times. Violette’s short cry sounded more annoyed than hurt.
“I said stop! That’s an order,” she yelled. The men didn’t listen. Dev couldn’t back down. Gil wouldn’t. The war between the Angelion and Bevlon had been raging for a millennium, possibly longer. In truth, neither side could remember how or when it started. Though both races were small in number because of it, none of them stopped the fighting. Dev didn’t feel the hatred like his father’s people did. The way he saw it, his father’s kind didn’t care much for him because of his human mother. They used to call him a halfling, a changeling, tainted, half-breed, rotted, spawn… They didn’t want to accept him and, well, in return, he wouldn’t care about their stupid blood feuds. Evidently Gil didn’t get that memo.
“Obey your captain.” Dev didn’t want to hurt the man, but he would.
Gil’s wings flapped, slamming Dev against a wall before lowering him against the sharp edge of a crate. Dev growled as the pain racked over his already sore muscles. Angrily, he reached for the base of a large wing and pulled hard. He heard a loud snap as he broke the appendage. Gil cried out. Dev let go of him as they both plummeted to the hard floor.
He listened for the gun hitting the ground, intent to dive after it. Metal slid against the grated floor. When he landed, he rolled toward the sound. As he came full circle, his forehead pressed into the pointed barrel of a laser.
“That’s enough,” Violette said, her tone stern. “This is my ship, and I will have order.”
“I’ll kill you,” Gil yelled. “My wing, you demon spawn, you broke my blasted wing!”
“Stow it,” Violette ordered. “Or I’ll break the other one.”
Dev didn’t move as he looked up at her. The barrel slid to the bridge of his nose, pressing hard. The captain held a gun on Gil as well. Her hand was steady, lethal. The weapon was an extension of her, and he had no doubt she could use it if called upon.
Violette’s eyes turned toward him. “I warned you what would happen if you misbehaved. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t eject you from this ship into the black?”
“He attacked me,” Dev stated simply. “By the injector he was carrying, I’d say you found your insubordinate.”
Violette’s hand dropped as she stepped back. He was sure the weapon would rise at a moment’s notice. “You have no fear of death, do you? I can see it in your eyes.”
“Captain,” Gil said. “My wing. He broke my wing.”
Violette made her way to the discarded injector on the floor. “You should have considered such outcomes before you brought him on the ship.”
“I told you the Bevlon was mine. You didn’t protest,” Gil held tight to his wing as if he was too frightened to move the appendage.
“And that is why I didn’t shoot either one of you just now.” Violette eyed the injector. “Is this lethal or sedative?”
“How could you ask that? What fun would it be to kill a Bevlon in a box?” Gil spat, glaring at Dev.
“By the looks of your broken wing, Angelion, it would have been the wisest decision,” Dev answered, just as angrily.
“How dare—” Gil began, trying to surge to his feet.
Violette grabbed him roughly by the arm and plunged the injector into his flesh. He blinked, dazed before passing out onto the floor.
“I could have handled him,” Dev protested at her interference.
“This is my ship, and he is my crewman. You’ll not be handling anyone.” Violette made a move to adjust Gil’s wing. She examined the wound. There wasn’t a lot of blood, but the support shaft was in two pieces. “This will have to heal naturally. Medical units don’t repair broken wings.”
“I am aware,” Dev answered. He didn’t move. His eyes followed the stroking of her hand, oddly aroused by the delicate actions of her fingers, yet jealous of the way she touched the other man. He studied her hands, her wrist, the subtle shift of muscles in her forearm, mesmerized by the movement. For a moment, he let his guard down. A rush of sensations overwhelmed him, and he quickly hardened himself.
Violette struggled to lift Gil but didn’t ask for his help. She managed well enough under the dead weight of her burden. Dev sighed, leaned forward to edge her out of the way as he pulled the Angelion onto his shoulder. Violette looked surprised, but she didn’t speak as she motioned him to follow her from the cargo hold.
Chapter 10
Violette ordered Gil sedated for much longer than was medically necessary. Regardless, Isaac followed her command without question. She had a feeling Isaac would enjoy nursing the unconscious man. Nothing inappropriate would happen, but for Isaac, it would be a fantasy come true to have Gil under his care.
With his wing broken and on a very long natural mend, the Angelion would be in a black hole of a mood. But that wasn’t why she didn’t want Gil awake. The last thing she needed was the age-old battle between Angelion and Bevlon being played out on her watch. She’d seen the look on their faces. Neither would back down from a fight, and she feared they’d take her ship out in the process.
“There is only room for one fight on this ship, and that is mine,” she swore under her breath, thinking of her father and Josselyn. Though she was a woman always up for adventure, this wasn’t exactly the kind of experience she felt like dealing with. Lifting her hand to the door scanner, she opened her quarters a
nd stepped in. Dev stood pretty much where she’d left him, in the middle of the room, black eyes stormy and expression stoic. He filled up the space, intimidatingly so. A small thrill worked over her, filled with a very feminine awareness.
That was something she didn’t want to deal with either.
“Gil is being managed,” she stated, drawing her mind back to the business at hand. “I contacted Quazer ground, but your friends only spent that one night in the Glamour District before they left the next day. A computer error corrupted their registered travel log.”
The side of Dev’s mouth twitched up a small degree.
“I suspected that wasn’t an error,” Violette said in response to the look. “Without it, we have no way of tracking your ship. Unless you know where it’s going?”
Dev’s expression blanked. “It’s hard to say.”
Violette nodded. “There are a couple of fueling docks in this part of the X quadrant, but not much else. Unless you insist, I wouldn’t recommend you staying behind at any of them. Travel options off the docks are limited, and the accommodations are lacking in everything but space pests.”
“What are you offering as an alternative?” The deep, rich tone of his voice gave nothing away.
“I didn’t order you brought here, but I am responsible for what happens on this vessel. We’ll try to find your ship for you and arrange a meeting—”
“So I can lead you to them?” he inserted.
“Or we can leave you on a planet of your choosing as we fly past. I don’t need your help tracking Josselyn. I’ll find her.”
He stayed quiet.
“Our next stop is to meet up with an HIA ship for a liaison with the Federation.” Actually, it was only an offer to join some unit heads in a toast to her father. She didn’t have to be there.
Dev didn’t move.
“HIA. Human Intelligence Agency,” Violette explained.
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