“No problem, missy. You go now.” The captain bobbed his head rapidly. “Damon protect you now.”
Her brother snorted and muttered, “Damn right I will.” Then he steered her around the bundle-of-clothing creature, which had slid to where the Erian’s blood pooled on the deck. A slurping sound had her stomach clenching.
“Um, Damon, is that Ragbag creature licking—”
“Yes. It’s a Wefiantooth or Weaver Tooth in Standard. Ragbag is a nickname. It’s a plant-spider hybrid from the Mu Arae system, a scavenger. The little buggers keep the docks clean.” He aimed a stern look her way. “Don’t ever come between one and its meal. Don’t ever touch one. They bite.”
“So the captain informed me.” She looked around as they walked into the central core of the station. “Are they all over the place?”
“No. If they come above dock levels, the security guards shoot them.” He touched the weapon at her back. “Your laser pistol will kill them. Full stream into the center of mass. Don’t hesitate and get all girly. Just shoot to kill.”
Bria planned on staying out of the creature’s way. She didn’t think she could kill one for merely being hungry and acting on instinct.
Damon, it seemed, had no issues with killing…in the heat of battle or otherwise. There was no doubt in her mind if she’d answered “yes” to his earlier question, Damon would’ve finished off the Erian without a blink. It was a side of him she’d never seen before and she wondered if their parents knew how much Damon had changed since leaving home.
Obviously, the Viking warrior genes of his Terran ancestors were strong in him. He even looked like one—tall, broad muscular shoulders, narrow hips, blue eyes, long blond hair. All he needed to finish the picture was a Viking ship and a crew to pillage the galaxies.
Bria wasn’t sure if Damon’s ease with violence and killing made her feel safe or scared. Probably a little bit of both.
As they wended their way through the station, taking multiple lifts and skywalks, she observed the bustling activity on the most dangerous jump station in the galaxy. So far she hadn’t seen a single female in the public areas.
Damon’s club, Hades, employed the vast majority of women living on the station—prostitutes, dancers, and barmaids. The remaining women were the wives and girlfriends of jump station employees. Her brother had once told her that every single woman on the station lived within the highly secured perimeter on the Hades level.
Bria did feel safe with Damon by her side. Still she kept her hand close to her knife after they left the docks…just in case.
“We’re here, princess.” Damon smiled. “You can take your hand off your weapon.”
“Okay.” She examined the entrance to Hades and grinned. She’d only seen images of it in news vids about the notorious club. “Very tacky, big brother.”
And it was.
For the entrance, he’d taken a page from ancient Terran Greek myths and called the artificial river flowing around the curved building, the River Styx. There was no boat and no Charon, the boatman. There was, however, a retractable bridge over the recirculating waters. Flames shot out of the moat, and moans and groans from what she presumed to be lost souls peppered the air.
Damon smiled, but it wasn’t a nice one. “The water has its purpose. I throw drunk and disorderly patrons into it.” He guided her across the bridge. “Don’t ever put your hand or toes in the moat.”
She looked at the Stygian waters more closely. When a flame lit up an area close to them, she spotted movement below the surface. “What’s down there?”
“Man-eating Gigantor pirana from the Amazonian basin on Earth.” Damon swept a finger over her lips. “Very aggressive suckers. So, no swimming or wading.”
“Damon, you don’t—”
He brushed a light kiss over her forehead and whispered, “Yes, princess, I do. This isn’t Gliese 581C or one of the Alliance-protected planets where civil law rules. Here a man survives on his willingness to defend what’s his. Hades, this jump station, and you are mine to protect. Live with it.”
“I’m sorry, Damon.” She hugged him. “I didn’t mean to bring trouble to your station.”
“It’s okay. I’m glad you came to me.” He kissed the top of her head. “I can handle the Erian’s kind of trouble. We do it here every damn day.” He rubbed her back. “Let’s get you settled in your room. You can have a bath, change your clothes, and then I’ll come and eat with you. We’ll talk about all the other trouble following you then. Okay?”
“Sure.” She paused, bit her lip, then added, “And we’ll also be talking about why you hid my Prime heritage and didn’t tell me about my mate marking.”
Damon’s face turned grim, the frown lines on his forehead deepened, and his lips thinned. He said nothing, merely stared at her for a few seconds. He nodded and then escorted her to her suite of rooms and left without saying another word.
Long after he’d gone, the heat of his desire for her lingered on the air. His anger also remained, a heavy pall in the suite. Damon was pissed. He didn’t want the talk. Tough. Her heart hurt. She wasn’t looking forward to it either, because it might very well mean the end of her relationship with her brother—and the entire Martin family.
Chapter 7
Damon left Bria in the suite of rooms connected to his.
Dammit all to hell and back.
Somehow she’d figured out he and the family had lied to her. The discovery had hurt her—hurt her more deeply than he’d ever expected. There had been logical reasons to keep the knowledge from her, but in hindsight, they sucked—all of them.
The initial decision to keep her heritage from her had been his parents’, since Damon had only been eleven when he discovered the crashed escape pod with an injured Bria inside. At the time, their reasoning to hide her Prime origins had been valid. The Prime hadn’t interacted with other populations in the galaxy for many generations, so there was no way to contact anyone in the Cejuru system to report the crash and one little survivor.
But later, when Bria turned eighteen, it had been his call to continue to keep the secret—and the family had reluctantly agreed.
His business partner Borac, a self-exiled Prime, had visited Gliese 581C with him for Bria’s eighteenth birthday celebration. When he met Bria, Borac had instantly recognized her as Prime and began asking Damon pointed questions. It had been his partner who’d told him the mark on Bria’s body was a mating mark. Borac had gone on to explain how the presence of the mark might affect Bria as she matured.
For Damon, the news she might have a mate had been a non-issue. He didn’t believe Borac about the significance of the mark. And even if he had, the Prime were still isolationists at the time and still unreachable.
Damon’s call not to tell her about her Prime nature had been totally a selfish one. He was in love with Bria and had loved her since she’d turned sixteen. He’d waited for her to turn eighteen, so he could court her and make her fall in love with him.
But Bria had wanted to go to medical school. Damon had loved her enough to help convince his parents that going away to school would be good for her. He’d kept in constant touch with her and waited patiently for her to see him as marriage material. But the timing had never been right. She’d continued on and gotten a fellowship. He and Borac had taken over the jump station and had worked hard to make it as safe—and profitable—as possible.
Then the fucking Prime joined the Alliance, and Bria began working with Prime DNA. He guessed it was inevitable that his very smart Bria would figure out what she was.
And she had—and the time had come for him to pay the consequences for his, and his family’s, lies of omission.
He wasn’t looking forward to their “talk.”
How could he admit the main reason he’d kept silent was because he wanted her for himself? That made him sound like a selfish bastard. He really wished she hadn’t intuited that he’d lied. Now, she’d hate him and never want to see him again—and that would hur
t the worst of all. Anger riding his heels, he sought Tomas, one of his most trusted security people. Bria was on his station and in danger. No one—not a mercenary Erian nor a lusty bar patron nor her stalker nor a Prime or Alliance traitor—would harm her while she was under his care.
Bria was still his to protect until her fucking Prime mate came to claim her.
If her mate claims her. He could be dead.
Now, wouldn’t that be nice?
If her mate were dead, he’d stake his own claim and win her love.
Borac’s union with a Terran woman had proven Prime could mate outside their own species, despite Borac’s earlier claims of Prime mating supremacy. Borac’s wife, Cissy, now carried their second child—a feat that was supposed to be impossible according to what Borac had been taught during his childhood on Cejuru Prime.
Damon found Tomas at the guard station located at the back entrance to the bar, which connected directly into the corridor leading to the employees’ quarters.
“Hey, boss. Your sister okay? Heard what happened.” Tomas shook his head. “Fucking Erians.”
“She’s fine.” Thank God, or there would’ve been a lot more blood on the docks to clean up. “Get one of the other guards to take over here. You’re on Bria guard duty. No one goes in her quarters,” Damon growled. “And she doesn’t come out unless a guard is with her. Understood?”
“Got it. Sweet thing like her doesn’t need to be anywhere outside the employees’ quarters.” Tomas frowned. “What the fuck’s she doing here anyway?”
“She has people after her. They’re not gonna get her.” Then he stalked off.
With Tomas on his way to guard Bria, Damon stepped into the main bar area. He automatically noted the place was packed, and the men present included the crew of the Mason freighter which had brought Bria to the station. While a little worse for the wear after their fight, the freighter crew was loud, noisy, and drunkenly appreciative of the live sex shows going on in the alcoves around the seating area.
One of Hades’ best strippers was on the main stage, making love alternately to her stripper pole and a boa constrictor. Three mercenaries who used the Charybdis gate routinely were all but leaning on the stage, calling out lewd suggestions of what to do with the snake. With good humor and an eye for larger tips, the dancer was obliging them with pleasurable results for all concerned. One of his bouncers was nearby to make sure the men didn’t climb on the stage and participate.
Damon had private sex rooms for that kind of activity.
All in all, it was a typical scene for the bar that stayed open around the clock.
He scanned the circular room, looking for Borac.
“She here?” Borac spoke from behind him.
Damon turned. “Yes. And she almost got snatched off the docks by an Erian mercenary and his pals. Not sure if he wanted her for himself or to sell her. But he knows she’s Prime. He scented her.”
“Ansu bhau. He won’t stop now that he has her scent.” Borac kicked a stool. “She needs to stay hidden until the Alliance and her gemat gets here.”
“I had security lock up the Erian. That takes care of that problem.” Damon sat on a bar stool and looked his friend in the eyes. “Who says the Alliance will bring her mate when they come to get her? Her gemat could be dead, you know.”
Borac frowned. “Damon, my friend, it is very likely—”
“—he’s still alive and on his way. I know. I know.” Damon swore under his breath. “Whatever happens, we need to keep her safe. Bria’s the curious sort. Nothing keeps her down for long. She’ll want to come out of the secured area and talk to people.”
“We can’t allow that.” Borac’s words echoed Damon’s earlier thoughts. “She is only safe inside the security perimeter.” Borac had personally trained the security personnel for the employees’ quarters. He’d wanted nothing to harm his wife or their child.
“Cissy will visit her,” Borac continued. “Or Bria can visit our suite. Tomas will guard them both. That should be enough socialization for your sister.” He smiled. “Bria will be interested in the miracle of Cissy having given birth to a Prime-Terran child and being pregnant with another.”
If Borac had buttons on his uniform, he would’ve been busting them. The man was extremely proud of fathering two children.
“Borac,” Damon smiled, “Bria will be interested in your children, but she won’t be surprised. It’s her area of research and the reason why she’s going to your home planet. She wants to show your people—”
“And her people,” interjected Borac.
Damon grunted and continued, “—that they can have children outside the Prime race and that the fertility issues have to have something to do with the planet’s environment.” Bria had talked his ear off after she found out she was going to the Cejuru system. She’d been thrilled to get the invitation—and that was before she’d concluded she was Prime. He bet she was more excited now.
His little sister would turn the Prime’s cultural concepts upside down.
“The old ones won’t like that.” Borac stated flatly. “Let’s hope her mate is politically connected, because she’ll need all the power behind her she can muster to change centuries of cultural beliefs.”
“Her mate better be strong, period,” Damon huffed, “or I won’t let him take her off station. I’ll hide her first.”
Prime bond, be damned.
Borac shook his head and slapped Damon on the back. “Word of advice, old friend. Don’t come between a Prime male and his marked mate. All Prime males are warriors. They connect empathically during times of Prime battle rage. You mess with one, you mess with them all. Not even I would be able to resist the call of batel rabia.”
“You’d take me down?”
Borac nodded. “In an instant.”
“Bria’s too gentle to live with a warrior.”
“Oh, Damon…” Borac shook his head and laughed. “…your little sister will rise to her greatest potential with her gemat. Living with Terrans, she sublimated her Prime nature. I know you don’t believe in the bond, but listen to me and believe my words—meeting her mate will awaken her latent abilities, and she’ll become one with her man. One perfect loving unit. It is a wondrous thing to see. My parents had that.”
Borac’s sigh sounded sad. His parents had died in the last Antarean onslaught. The one which had sent Bria to Gliese 581C and his family.
“Well, I’ll believe the perfect loving unit crap when I see it.” Changing the subject, Damon said, “I want our Volusian guards on the doors to the employees’ quarters and at the front and back doors to Hades. We can shift the non-Volusians to the other areas of the jump station.”
The Volusians were a warrior race and fought fiercely. Damon didn’t know who’d targeted Bria, but he wasn’t taking any chances with her safety. He wanted his fiercest security people on alert while she was on-station. “No days off for any guard until my sister is off-station. All lasers are to be on maximum stun, and everyone carries a battle-blade.”
“I concur.” The large Prime almost vibrated with excitement over the possibility of a fight. Running a jump station and a dive bar and sex entertainment club was fairly tame for a man trained to be a warrior.
“I also need to find out who’s stalking Bria so we can be better prepared.”
“Let me know,” Borac said. “So I can see to rearranging the duty roster and adding more men, if needed.”
“Thanks, old friend.” Damon stood, slapped Borac on the back, and then left the bar to have his “talk” with Bria.
Chapter 8
The next day, Jump Station Charybdis
After what seemed like an endless decontamination process, Iolyn jogged through the connecting tube and then onto the jump station’s main passenger dock.
His battle-ready senses were at their optimal levels and bordering on dangerous as he scanned the crowded dock. Even four strenuous hand-to-hand sessions with his brothers and several other members of the Galant
i crew during the interminable flight had barely taken the edge off his frustration and fears. He wouldn’t calm down until Brianna was safe in his arms.
His first view of the station did nothing to allay his turbulent emotions. The passenger shuttle docks were old and gritty-looking. The metal walls were corroded and needed a paint job. On some of the surfaces, there were amorphous spots that glowed from some variety of microbe or alien life forms. So much for the decontamination chamber's efficacy. And the air was stale and stank like sweaty socks and rotting meat.
Worse was the drubbing his empathic senses took from the hostile, chaotic atmosphere created by the sentient life forms populating the busy dock platform. Mercenaries, pirates, plus assorted thieves and con men loitered in the open, dimly lit areas, and even darker corners. The one hundred percent male crowd wheeled-and-dealed, fought, and caroused as they waited for their shuttle crafts’ departure times back to their larger ships, which waited their turn to use the erratic jump gate.
Iolyn’s hand itched as it hovered over his laser pistol. Had his sweet Brianna run the gauntlet of the dregs of the galaxy to get to her brother’s bar? Every Prime instinct rebelled at the thought. If she had been so much as touched, harmed, he’d—
Suddenly, the clamor on the docks quieted to the skittering and rustling of the smaller, less deadly males as they fled the danger zone. The remaining badasses focused their less than congenial gazes on him and his fellow shipmates. All it would take to ignite the current combustible aura of fear, hate, and murderous and larcenous intent was one wrong move from either side.
Iolyn pulled his laser pistol. The weapon felt good in his hand. With his other hand, he made sure the sheath for his battle-blade was open for an easy pull. Without turning his head, he spoke to Huw on his left flank. “Keep Nadia close, brother. I don’t like the feel of this place.”
Wulf, on his right flank, mumbled, “Neither do I. Ansu bhau. We should have left Nadia with Melina.”
Prime Imperative (The Prime Chronicles Book 3) Page 8
