To Protect A Prince

by Candy Nicks

  "Thank-you.” The woman's shoulders sagged, the weight of tension rolling away like a cloud on a windy day. He knew something of that. Keeping vigil with no chance to relax or let down your guard did things to a body and soul. Left scars. Living life on the edge was a rush, but one day came the inevitable slip and plunge into free-fall. On this side of life, few made the distance.

  "I need to know your name,” he said. “If I'm to keep you safe, I need your real name."

  "Shula. My name is Shula."

  "And his?” he nodded at the child.

  "Colin."

  Scratching at his three-day stubble, he watched her disappear with a little too much haste into the interior of the ship. One out of two wasn't bad. He wondered which of the names was real. One for sincerity, the other to throw him off. An old trick. No matter. Breeding like hers would have a family tree going back to the last ice-age. The image-finder would have her in a micro-moment.

  He flopped onto the hard bench in the cramped rec-room, and mentally calculated the distance to a world where she wouldn't stand out like a green elephant at a picnic. Crosios maybe, or Plenies 11. They'd both signed the anti-slavery edict. Find her a good family who needed a tutor for their brats. She'd saved him a savage beating. He should thank her for that.

  "This is the last time,” he muttered as he drifted into sleep. And then he realised he'd been too drunk to check the woman for weapons. Perhaps he'd misjudged her, this whole situation. What if she were some clever thief hiding behind a baby and a pair of mesmerising kaleidoscope eyes? Before falling asleep, he slid his short-sword from its sheath and slipped it beneath the bench.

  Trust was a two-way thing. Why did he keep forgetting that?

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter 2

  Tucked into his make-shift crib, the baby slept the sleep of the innocent. Would that she could. Thoughts of the alarm and shame her actions had brought to her family kept sleep at bay. Disorientated, Shula lay still and listened to the child breathe. The tiny cabin reeked of stale food, dirty socks and the underlying stench of lubricant that pervaded the whole vessel. Her empty stomach lurched in protest.

  Did luxury matter when measured against the need to be free?

  Too wired for sleep, she slid from the bed and pulled open her tote. Pitifully empty of essentials save the few items of baby clothing, the flexipaks of baby nutrient and the handful of diapers she'd snatched before her flight.

  What she would have given to see Grand-Uncle Morten's face when he discovered his missing credits. Credits she'd all but used up on Captain Daniels. With only a few hundred remaining, she now had the added burden of finding employment when they finally landed somewhere obscure enough to call home.

  "I'm going to take a shower, sweet-heart. If one exists on this rust-bucket. Sleep tight. I promise nothing will harm you here. You're safe now."

  The baby rewarded her with a sleepy smile. She loved the way he empathised so naturally with her thoughts and thanked her gods once again that his only requirements were a warm bed, a clean diaper and regular meals. Had he been a few months older, they would never have escaped attention of the wrong sort. Even now she considered it a miracle they'd avoided the rogue slavers and pleasure gangs reputed to roam this part of the sector.

  Before leaving the room, she gathered up the clothes littering the floor. Putting them into the washer might deal with some of the smell.

  What she really needed were some Attars, the delicately perfumed flowers carpeting the hillsides of her family's numerous estates. The thought brought her close to hysteria. Attars and silks, servants and well-bred escorts were a thing of the past. Welcome to broken nails, weekly showers and dubious favours in return for passage.

  "So what now? You're stealing my underwear?"

  "Oh! Captain Daniels! You startled me.” Shula bent to retrieve a rogue sock, trying not to stare at the shirtless man blocking the corridor. Her cheeks prickled with tell-tale heat.

  Arms folded, the captain leaned one shoulder against the metal wall. “That's twice I've seen you blush."

  "I was taking these to the washer,” she said, attempting a smile. Under his amused scrutiny, the heat in her cheeks increased. In less than ten heartbeats, her whole face would be a hideous fiery red. “House-keeping in return for passage, as agreed. Where are your laundry facilities?"

  "My laundry facilities?” The captain's eyebrows raised a fraction. “With the butler and the platinum breakfast trays, where do you think?"

  "You have a butler? On a ship this size?"

  "Yeah. And a cook and a twenty-strong harem up front. Put those down and come outside for a moment. Get some air, cool you down."

  "There's no need.” Stepping around him wasn't an option since he filled the entire width of the corridor. And squeezing past would mean touching him, which would lead to more blushing and the risk of an embarrassing fainting fit.

  "All right,” she conceded, after a short pause. “For a moment only. I shouldn't leave the baby alone for too long."

  When he turned around, she bit back a gasp at the sight of the fire-red dragon emblazoned across his shoulder blades. The work was exquisite, the hand of a true artist. He'd turned casually, but she was already getting the impression that Captain Daniels didn't do anything without a good reason.

  "The tattoo means nothing to me,” she said as they waited for the ramp to lower. “I assume you wanted me to see it?"

  The captain shrugged. “Just something I woke up with one morning. You're still looking hot. Does your entire race blush like they're fit to burst?"

  "Only those with the mutant gene.” And when standing next to shirtless men with bodies to die for.

  Reaching over, he grazed her cheek with the pads of his fingers, his thumb tracing the line of the bone. Her shiver made him smile. Instantly, she schooled herself to indifference as etiquette demanded.

  The captain winked. “That's right. Keep ‘em guessing Sugar.” His hand moved to her hair, smoothing, rubbing the delicate strands between finger and thumb. “Perch yourself there on the ramp and take some deep breaths,” he ordered in his low rumble of a voice. “And then tell me who you really are and what this is all about."

  She lowered her gaze to stare at his mud-splattered boots. “I can't. Don't ask me."

  "We're not moving from here until you do."

  He'd positioned himself between her and the entrance to the ship. Deliberately? A wave of panic fluttered low in her belly. Foolish to leave the baby alone.

  "Breathe. And forget protocol,” he said, noticing her distress. His voice softened, “If you don't tell me the full story, I can't protect you. Or the child. Do you understand?"

  Protect her? Tears stung her eyes. After weeks of watching and waiting, the hectic chase across three planets, to be able to relax at last, knowing this man might stand solidly at her back, overwhelmed her.

  "I'd rather hear your version of events,” he added.

  "You've already found out who I am, Captain Daniels. Can you tell me you haven't'?” She wanted to stand, to meet his challenge head on, but she couldn't be sure her shaking legs would hold her.

  "Wasn't difficult. Noble family. You attended the Academy Elite. Broke your arm when you were nine zulan-years. The baby isn't yours."

  "I'm his aunt, and birth-guardian. To my race, that's a sacred duty."

  The captain picked idly at a piece of loose metal dangling from the door-casing. “So, what? You're taking him on vacation?"

  She swallowed down the rising panic. “Whatever they're offering, I will double. You must get me away and out of this sector before they catch up with us. Captain Daniels. We're throwing ourselves upon your mercy. If the child returns to Aluderia, he will die. If you help save him, your name will go down in history."

  The metal-trim parted company with the door-frame. Captain Daniels shot it a look of disgust and tossed it onto the landing bay. He spread his hands.

  "Well, I could use the credits, as you mig
ht have noticed."

  "Did they say I kidnapped the child?"

  "Dwindling populations, rampant infertility and him being an empath, too? You know how much he's worth."

  It didn't look good from any angle. Between her and the most precious thing in the universe stood a desperate man. Or even worse, a ruthless one who would be inside, door closed before she could stand.

  And she'd offered to do his laundry? Shula clutched the dirty clothes to her chest like a shield. He'd suggested sex in return for passage without giving pause. She might yet have something of more value to him than the reward offered by the Aluderian High Council of State.

  She stood carefully, glad to find the dizziness receding. In the brighter lights of the landing-bay, she made out the dragon's tail looping about his biceps in a spiral that ran down to his wrist. At his hip, just above his heavy metal belt, she noticed the deep gouge that could only have been made by a sword. Like his battered ship, the captain had a story to tell. And as in all things, the outward display showed little of what went on underneath.

  He was still blocking her path, arms folded now. Set features giving nothing away. Appraising. Deciding where her worth lay.

  "I'm willing to rethink my stance on sex for passage.” The words tumbled out in a rush. “Have you ever mated with an Aluderian, Captain?"

  If her question threw him off balance, he showed it only the slight narrowing of his dark eyes.

  "Get myself and the child to safety and I will give something of greater value than any reward."

  "And that would be?"

  "My virginity. Given freely, Captain Daniels. My virtue in return for safe passage. What do you say?"

  * * * *

  Given freely? Holy sin, the mere mention made his gut clench and his cock stir. Calm, he ordered. It ignored him, as usual.

  "Had that been on my mind, your virtue would have been long gone, lady."

  "You don't want me?"

  The shock of his refusal made Shula wilt visibly, buying him a very slight advantage in this conversation he'd only ever dreamed of having. Sex with an Aluderian? The greatest ecstasy known to being-kind according to the more exclusive pleasure-clubs. And even then so rare that they were usually foisting genetically-enhanced Ekrans on the poor unsuspecting bastards with a lifetime's savings to blow on a single mind-shattering orgasm.

  If he took up her offer, one mind-shattering orgasm before he was horribly tortured and killed by her pursuers. Or by his.

  It was almost worth it.

  "Freely given,” she said moving towards him. “I would make sure to be properly receptive to you. To keep careful control of the markers. Treat you as my husband in all but name. You will never experience anything like it."

  "Don't kid yourself.” He couldn't step away, even though his mind told him to bundle her into his cabin and lock the door until they'd cleared three systems. “I'm an expert in Tialn meditation. You could strip naked in front of me and still I wouldn't be interested."

  The dirty laundry dropped onto the ramp. “It's worth more than any reward.” Shula's finger started a slow journey across her lips. She let it linger and then traced the line of her neck to the top curve of her breasts. “And you know it."

  If that finger moved any lower, he'd be a goner. Her eyes were now almost the colour of Ebon Emeralds. Dark and mysterious, so deep they'd keep and devour him forever. With the effects of the Valagra still whizzing about his bloodstream, his powers of resistance were precisely zilch.

  "Hold it right there,” he said summoning every atom of will-power. One day he would kick himself soundly for letting the opportunity of a life-time slip through his fingers. But at least he'd be alive to tell the tale. Falling into this woman's thrall now would weaken him when he needed total control of this rapidly-complicating situation.

  "The baby is Prince Cristan, Aluderes the fourth, now heir to the Kalimar throne of Aluderia. Correct?"

  Shula's arms dropped to her side and the overpowering rush of marker faded as swiftly as it had thickened the air between them.

  "Heirs are crowned king at their tenth zulan-year,” she replied. “About a moon-cycle ago, his supporters defected to the house of Alarn. We who remained loyal had fewer resources for bribes and one by one our number dwindled. Whispers began to circulate about an assassination plot so, as his guardian, I took matters into my own hands. I stole a great deal of credits from my grand-uncle. Funds he was holding to establish the usurper in place. And funds which will be yours when you help us. I was told you were trustworthy, Captain. Are you?"

  Her tale succeeded in dampening his ardour enough for him to think straight. A reward fit for a prince would pay off his debts. Buy him a life-style. A luxury apartment. Private dancers. A ship with a hyper-drive that actually worked.

  "Captain Daniels."

  He snapped out of the dream. Pay off his debts and what then? Continue on the path to self-destruction? Or use this opportunity to start the slow journey back to the man he once was? Could he even remember that person?

  "Get inside,” he said. “The baby, the prince, might want you or something. And try to avoid touching me. I know all about the effects of the marker and I need to clear my head. To think. If what you say is true, this is big. Secret Channel Elite Bounty-Hunter big.” He gave a low laugh. “And I don't even know if the hyper-drive survived that last blast from Galazt Patrol."

  "But you can get us away?” Shula's now-clear eyes regarded him, unblinking.

  "I can get us out of space-dock.” He followed her back into the Marium, keeping a safe distance. “Do you pray, Lady Shula?"

  "My family is high-born enough for a personal deity. Yes, I pray."

  "Well, you do that while I go check that hyper-drive and nocens. To get out of this one, we're going to need every advantage we can muster."

  * * * *

  What had she unleashed?

  Shula clicked shut the cabin door, taking care not to wake the sleeping child. Now she knew why the act of mating had been relegated to the strict confines of the marital bed. She sucked in a deep breath and willed the raging tide of marker and emotion to abate. The marriage contract ensured that protocols were adhered to. That neither partner became overwhelmed by the torrent of feelings and sensations the act could so easily unleash. It was a thing far too powerful to indulge in for the sake of a night's pleasure.

  Breathe, woman, breathe!

  Sex could not be used as a weapon if it could not be controlled.

  Prince Cristan smiled in his sleep. Could an empath this young pick up real thoughts and feelings? She hoped not.

  The baby smiled again and she scrabbled frantically to empty her mind and focus on more practical matters. Clean clothes. Where would she find those? She had none of her own and given the size of the closet, most of the Captain's were lying in a heap on the bed.

  The tiny drawer set in the cabin wall held only two pairs of undergarments, and a black tank-top. The closet, even less. Shula pulled out a grey military-style jacket and held it against herself. It fell to mid-thigh, but would suffice while her own clothes dried. She quickly disrobed and slid into the coarsely-woven jacket. Her skin immediately began to itch.

  It would have to do. The captain didn't look like a man who wore silk or fine-tailoring. She scratched at the rash already breaking out on her left breast and cracked open the door to the corridor.

  All clear. Shula dived for the door to the smallest bathroom in civilisation. Enough room to turn, but nothing else. And no lock. Best be quick then. She dropped the jacket and stepped onto the shower-mat. Nothing happened. And no signs of any dials or touch-pads that might activate the water-stream.

  Eventually, after prodding each of the metal wall-tiles in turn, a lukewarm trickle of water dribbled from the shower-hose. Not what she was used to, but pure heaven after two days on the road. Shula tipped back her head and let the water stream over her face and hair. A line of itchy bumps now spread from her breast down to her navel. Frowning, she
examined the rash and wondered if the captain kept salve on board. Such delicate skin was a mark of high breeding on Aluderia, but out here, in the galaxy, it was a vulnerability she didn't need.

  For the first time, she envied the tanned, lusty bodies of the immigrant peasants who worked the fields and heavy industries of the southern provinces. They didn't have to go gowned in strong sun, or slather themselves in canis-repellis every time they went near something with fur.

  They-

  A sharp knock on the door had her scrabbling for the jacket. Dragging it over her wet skin.

  "You in there?"

  "Yes Captain,” she called back. “Don't come in. I couldn't find the lock and I'm naked."

  Was that a groan she heard through the metal?

  "Lock's the small grey pad at the side of the door. Wanted to tell you the blower is broken so you'll have to use a good old-fashioned drying-cloth."

  Leaning forward, Shula gathered up her hair and twisted it to wring out what she could of the water.

  "Thank-you Captain Daniels. Where will I find one?"

  "Out here. I'll leave it behind the door. And please stop calling me Captain Daniels."

  "What shall I call you, then?"

  "Dan. Call me Dan."

  The snarls in her hair would take a lifetime to comb out. “Do you have any shears...Captain Dan?” Silver hair would be valuable, she reasoned. The captain wasn't the only person to need credits.

  "Why?"

  "I wish to cut off my hair. It's too long to handle without an army of servants."

  "You'll do nothing of the sort,” came the sharp reply. “Touch a single hair and I'll tan that pretty hide of yours."

  The words stopped her in mid-finger comb. “You'll do what?"

  "Never mind. Just leave your hair alone, okay? And hurry up. Got an energy top-up any moment now and I need to be away before they realise how much I owe them. Then I'll file for clearance. I want us off-planet before sunset and I need me a shower before we go."