Why was he torturing her with his touch?
Warmth spread across her belly and heat pooled between her thighs. She was sure, for Syrin, this touch through two layers of clothing was nothing but his duty. Protection.
To her it was everything.
So, so embarrassing. She tried her best to keep her breaths steady, her heartbeats even.
The lift stopped and they were on the bottom level of the prison. The doors swooshed open and beings in orange jumpsuits were milling about everywhere.
They stepped out into the commotion of the mess hall, keeping the same formation around her.
Immediately, the hissing and booing began.
And the comments. Oh, the comments.
“Isn’t that the female who killed Cylo Rin?”
“It’s true, she’s here.”
“She killed him, I watched the video.”
“Kill the bitch.”
Sara sucked in a breath, her whole body tightening. Their collective rage seemed to stab her in the chest because…they all hated her. All of them.
“What are they discussing?” Syrin asked, clearly confused.
“They hate your female,” Trax gritted.
“They hate the female? Why?” he asked.
Rengeli looked around, eyed the angry crowd forming around them, and turned to tag her with an outraged glare.
Shit.
She pressed her lips together and looked sheepishly at Syrin. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know it would follow me here, too. I promise, I didn’t know.”
“What would follow you here?”
An enormous male shoved other beings aside and stepped in front of their group, blocking their path. He was almost as tall as Syrin and his whole body seemed to be made of stone. Four red eyes glared at her with single-minded determination. “Give her up now,” he growled at the males who protected her, “give her to us, and we’ll let the rest of you live.”
Syrin stepped forward, grabbed the inmate and shoved two claws up into the guy’s nose. Sara squeaked with surprise. The giant prisoner roared with pain. Syrin lifted the being up off the ground by the nose, using only one arm. It was disgusting and awe-inspiring at the same time.
Trax strutted forward into a large space in the crowd that had opened around Syrin and the squirming inmate. Rengeli stayed at her side.
“This is how it’s going to be,” Trax boomed, making sure the entire floor was able to hear his announcement. “You touch me or my two friends and you’re dead. You touch the female and you’re dead. You want to stay alive? Leave. Us. Alone.” He pointed at her. “And this female is ours. We don’t care who you think she killed on the outside and your plans for revenge. Forget it. The three of us protect her. She’s the Xylan’s to use as he pleases. You hurt her and you’re dead.”
4
Sara sat at the table trying to eat, even though the disturbing image of Syrin’s claws drilling up another being’s bleeding nostrils was still flashing through her mind.
The four of them sat together. Trax and Rengeli on one side, and she and Syrin on the other side. Syrin purposely set it up like this. She was boxed into a corner of the mess hall. To her right was a wall, behind her more wall, with Syrin seated to her left. With the other two males seated across from her, she was fully protected.
Damn, this male was amazing.
They all ate the crappy food offered in the mess hall. The food dispenser was set to produce only one thing—a tasteless gray gruel with a springy mystery meat. Sara forced herself to consume her only source of nutrition.
The other inmates left them wide berth. There were still glares and bared teeth, but they stayed away, in fear of their lives. Which was fine with Sara.
The three males hadn’t said much after they’d made their initial alpha warrior pronouncement to the other inmates. The balance of power on 149 had shifted at that moment and the prisoners had been shown what would happen if they messed with any of their group. The crowd had dispersed and the four of them had moved on to get food. But things were tense between Sara and her bodyguards. She knew they were angry. They had to be angry. If the roles were reversed she’d be pissed as hell, too, to be saddled with the female who’d killed Cylo Rin.
Although she hadn’t killed Cylo Rin. She hadn’t.
Rengeli ate quietly, his jaw clenched. Angry but silent.
Trax was pissed and vocal. “This female is going to get us killed,” he gritted.
She swallowed the food in her mouth, sat up straight and met his gaze, trying to think of her best excuse, something to defuse the situation. “I think they’re this angry because I’m the only woman here right now. Their obsession will pass. They’ll get over this soon, forget about Cylo Rin and go back to watching me because I’m female, not because…because of, you know, the other thing.”
Trax took a deep breath and looked over to Rengeli, who was eating his second bowl of gruel. “I’m not stupid,” he growled. “None of us are stupid. The only other female in here died a moon cycle ago from an unfortunate accident.” The Creekan used his claws to create air quotes, emphasizing the words unfortunate accident. “So, yes, you should be a hot commodity. Normally, they’d be fighting us to keep you as their possession, in their bunk. I was prepared for that, to teach them to keep their hands off and that you’re ours or his, but instead they want you dead. That’s different. They want you dead not because you’re a female, but because you killed Cylo Rin, the most beloved celebrity in the four sectors. The male who started the whole movement to try and free Regis Yerty. Every male in this prison knows Regis Yerty and mourns his loss. Basically, you’re the symbol of their enslavement, their hopelessness.” He looked at the Xylan. “Syrin, you managed to hook up immediately with the most hated being in the four sectors and in this prison. Great job lying low and not bringing attention to yourself.”
She put down her bowl and cut a glance at the Xylan, worry knotting her stomach. Of course she wanted the other two to understand and to take her side, but Syrin was the one that really mattered here. What did he think? His face was set on Xylan impassive. He ate and didn’t speak, draining his third bowl of gruel, because she supposed such a massive warrior needed huge amounts of fuel. Despite the wall of hatred pointed at her from the other inmates, and the death threats, he was curiously unperturbed. He always seemed to be that way, didn’t he? Silent but steady. Really, it was his best quality.
“They will get over this soon,” she repeated. Because they would, right? Maybe if she said it enough times it would come true. “I’m just new and shiny and I’m the only woman. That’s what all this is. Yes, I’m hated on the outside, but come on, this is prison. Everyone here has supposedly killed someone. Why do they hate me more than the others? They will have to get over this, right?”
“They’re not getting over it until you’re dead,” Rengeli said. “They might possibly hate you more here than the civilians on the outside. Regis Yerty was their hero and Cylo Rin was the only person in a position of power who made any effort to rescue him. And you killed Cylo Rin, the only celebrity who fought for prisoner’s rights. This place is filled with beings who will not rest until they have exacted their revenge.”
Her nose started to sting. This was so damn unfair. She’d been living this way for the last moon cycle, with the weight of the four sectors’ hatred on her shoulders. It was ridiculous. “I didn’t kill Cylo Rin!”
Trax rolled his bulbous eyes. “That’s what they all say. I didn’t do it! Nice try, but I believe you as much as I’d believe that guy over there.” He pointed his clawed finger at an inmate who was stealing a bowl of gruel.
She looked back at him, “But I’m telling the truth, I was set up. I didn’t kill Cylo Rin!” she cried, her voice strained. “I’ve been saying I was innocent from the moment they told me what I was accused of, my story has not changed, and no one will listen to me.”
“I don’t know why…maybe because there’s actual vid showing you killing Cylo Rin? It went v
iral, everyone has seen it.”
“And the vid wasn’t fake,” Rengeli cut in. “It has a truth lock seal.”
“But I didn’t do it. You have to believe me.”
“Truth. Lock. Seal.”
Syrin slammed his fist on the table. Her bowl and spoon clattered. “Enough. We will not be sidetracked by this distraction. This female is still under my protection. We will follow our mission, keep her safe and take her with us when we leave. Nothing changes.”
Trax and Rengeli went quiet and gave curt nods. No one spoke.
“Mission?” she asked the quiet table.
No one answered her, they just continued eating. She bit her lip. Okay, then. As long as Syrin was still loyal to her and they were focused on busting out of here and planned on taking her along, that was fine with her. She took a deep breath and kept eating, too.
Syrin watched as the human female walked ahead of him.
He was sharing a cell with Sara Smith, the “Cold-Blooded Killer of Cylo Rin.” Her face had been everywhere, the video of Cylo Rin’s death had gone viral. He should’ve put this information together quicker.
Unbelievable.
Luckily for her, he didn’t watch reality vids. In fact, he’d been left wondering what the commotion in the mess hall was all about. But the rest of the prisoners on 149 were obviously rabid fans bent on revenge. And that was a problem.
He’d taken care of the asshole who’d thought he was in charge of 149. The one who’d had the audacity to step forward, threaten three Bounty Hunters and the female Syrin had vowed to protect. He grinned, thinking of how he’d torn the Fhrek a new snout. Now that they’d wiped the floor with the fiercest inmate among them, the rest backed off. But still, having all the inmates joined in their single-minded devotion to kill the female…this was a possible kink in their plan.
But he believed her when she said she had no idea that the notoriety would follow her here. He wasn’t sure yet of her avowed innocence, but he’d given his word, he would still protect her. It would just be harder now. But who said this mission was going to be easy?
This was why he was here, because the apprehension of Kroga of Seventy-Five would go down in history as one of the most difficult missions ever.
The female had no idea they’d studied the floor plan of this detention center prior to their arrival. Before they’d planned their arrest, they’d memorized the schematics of 149. Somewhere, on this floating space station on the edge of the second sector, was their target, Kroga of Seventy-Five. They had not yet visually confirmed each cell. But they were about to start.
First, they met with an older Creekan who knew everything about the inner workings of the prison. There was bedding, actual pillows, cups, and what looked like an entertainment vid in his cell. This was an inmate who had established himself on 149. “There is no other Xylan on this Detention Center,” he told them. “I’ve been here for the last ten years and I’ve never seen a Xylan incarcerated on 149. You’re the first, and a bit of a celebrity.” He glanced over at the female. “And your human. She is the topic of all conversation here.”
“Usually Xylan are judged and punishment carried out through the Scales of Xylan Law,” Syrin confirmed. “If any Xylan breaks a law in the four sectors, that being is transported back to Xylan to face judgment. But because I am a berserker I am an outlaw, living outside the Scales of Xylan Law. I was tried like a citizen of the four sectors.” This was the only reason why he was there. If he was a Xylan in good standing, he would never have ended up in 149. And this plan would never have worked.
But, despite what the Creekan told them, they knew there was still one other Xylan on 149, and they would find him. Next, they went to the inmate they’d already prepared to shake down. Trax and Rengeli walked ahead into the cell.
“What is this? Why are we here?” the female asked.
“Stay here,” he ordered, leaving her next to the bunks.
She pursed her lips and crossed her arms, but did as he asked.
Trax had immediately recognized the small Grellin they were crowding into a corner. He’d picked up this convict on a mission five planetary rotations ago. On the outside the Grellin made a very nice living buying and selling information to the highest bidder. They were certain he hadn’t lost any of his skills simply because he was incarcerated.
Syrin turned and swiftly pushed the small, purple-skinned prisoner against the wall. “Tell me if there are any other Xylan on this Detention Center and I’ll let you live.”
“My friend only wants to know if there are any others of his kind here on 149,” Trax said from behind. “It’s only fitting that he find his brethren, don’t you think?”
The Grellin squeaked in response.
Syrin placed a claw around the Grellin’s long, skinny neck because he was taking too long to answer.
“There has never been another Xylan on 149,” the being gasped. “You are the first.”
“Lies,” Rengeli barked.
The being’s soft fingers scratched at Syrin’s claw. Syrin choked him tighter. This male had a child-like innocent face, with watery dark eyes that begged for mercy, but Syrin knew better. He was in 149 because he abused and murdered children. There would be no mercy.
“No, it is the truth. Xylan usually deal with their own and rarely come out this far from Chronos.”
Trax cursed.
“This is going to make our job twice as difficult,” Rengeli said.
Both the Creekan and the Grellin were telling the same story. They knew for a fact that Kroga was there, a genetic heat signature of a Xylan male on 149 had been confirmed prior to their arrival. But neither of these beings, the two who would normally know the most about the inner workings of 149, had seen him.
This was not good.
Sirens began blaring.
The Grellin thrashed, his legs kicking out. “It’s lock down for sleep cycle!” he shrieked. “Let me go! It’s death to be caught outside when the doors shut. And I don’t want you locked in here with me.”
Syrin dropped the male. It darted under the bunk, its tail sweeping behind. He turned. “Out!” he shouted to the female.
“Sheesh, that siren is loud,” she yelled.
They all ran outside into the chaos of the sleep cycle lockdown. The hallway was emptying around them. His female, Trax and Rengeli entered their cells. He heard a shout behind him and turned to see another inmate running. A Reftakian male with wings. It rushed past him without a glance, it’s feathers brushing against his forearm.
Syrin stepped out and looked over the railing, his gaze sweeping the entire facility, watching the process of lockdown during sleep cycle. Every single inmate, on each floor in the entire facility was taking seriously the order to be inside their cells. Inmates moved swiftly into place, making sure they were all inside as doors slid shut. Not a single one of them was choosing to stay outside. Not one.
“Syrin, hurry!” Sara shouted, fear in her voice.
The doors were synchronized, closing slowly along with the beats of the sirens blaring. There had been five beats. Syrin strode over to their door as it slid closer during the sixth beat and slipped inside the opening. On the seventh beat the door clanged shut behind him.
The female slapped her bare hand against his clothed chest. “You scared me. Don’t cut that so close!”
A muffled scream came from the halls. They both turned and rushed to the small window of thick, clear glass embedded in the door and pressed close to see outside their cell. Most of the lights in the complex were now off, except for a row of pin lights along the hallways. The Reftakian who’d run past Syrin was on the opposite side of the prison, across from them on his side of the open-air space, standing in the hallway, banging furiously on a closed cell door, obviously locked out. The gray wings folded along his back through cutouts in his orange jumpsuit shook with the force of his blows.
A group of inmates stalked toward him.
“Who are those guys?” the female asked.
/>
“They are all of the same species…Peerans.” Syrin’s lips formed a thin line. This wasn’t good. Peerans were known for their Cannibalism. They ate whatever was in front of them.
The Reftakian banged again, cut a glance at the group of inmates moving closer, then turned and ran on his clawed feet.
“Peerans,” Sara whispered. “I’ve never heard of them. What happens when you’re locked out? Will a guard open the door and let you in?”
“No,” Syrin answered. “There’s no help. Just death.”
The Reftakian flapped his wings, trying to lift over the group bearing down on him, but was yanked down by a hand wrapped around his leg and knocked to the ground. Five Peerans instantly pounced. They began beating him. Slamming fists into his head and midsection.
The biggest of the Peerans, a massive male with an elongated jaw, tore the Reftakian’s gray wings right off his back and lifted the bloody mass of feathers above his head, shouting like it was a trophy.
“Oh dear gods,” Sara cried, “why are they doing that to him?”
“They’re Peerans. It’s what they do.”
“Oh my gods, they’re—” Sara turned away, gagging.
“Cannibals.”
They were eating the Reftakian. Any being who ate other sentient beings were considered Cannibals. Your own species, other species that were sentient, you were a Cannibal.
The Peerans tore the Raftakian limb from limb, rending flesh and chewing. Red blood smeared on their faces and arms, dripped onto the ground and pooled on the floor. They growled and fought with each other for the choicest parts.
She started to turn back. “Are they done? Have they left?”
“No, they’re still—”
A Peeran face smashed against their window, filling the whole view with gleaming red eyes and a large tongue. Sara screamed. The inmate locked eyes with the female. “When his back is turned,” it snarled at her, “we’re going to eat you, too.”
Syrin roared and slammed his fists against the heavy door.
The Alien Bounty Hunters Complete Series: Books 1-8 Page 40
