by Lyn Gala
Tom thought about that, but it wasn’t as if he honestly understood Becca, so he wasn’t sure that proved anything. “What color came off my diamond back before I gave you that gift?” Tom asked.
Da’shay pressed harder and Tom groaned in pleasure as his knotted muscles eased. “Reds. Vivid red, but then red would lose all color and turn milk-gray and I would try to touch the light, and red like lightning through the sky.”
“And now?”
She seemed to think about that as she worked the muscles on his back. Soap started sliding toward his eyes and Tom awkwardly twisted to wipe it off with his shoulder since she’d chained him, but that only made more soap fall down his face. The water turned back on and Tom kept his eyes closed as Da’shay rinsed the shampoo from him.
“Now lots of white. Bits of teal and red like shadows in the sun.” Da’shay turned the water off again and Tom sighed as he realized that he’d been right last night. She was reading him. People wrote vids and books about humans who could read thoughts, but they were fictions—stories meant to amuse or horrify, not a warm reality running hands over his chained body.
“You said something about your light,” he said, struggling to remember what she’d been saying. At the time, he’d been a bit distracted.
“I fought. Fought hard, sailed into the darkness and brought death to enemies, but others didn’t see, couldn’t see me as anything but…” She stopped, her mouth pulled into a frown. “Yellows and grays hiding my color. Got lost. More people, more colors, and always more alone.”
Tom swallowed as he imagined the world she was describing. Looking down at the slave mark, he thought about how Ramsay had looked at him as a slave instead of a soldier. It wasn’t comfortable knowing that other people didn’t respect you, but in Da’shay’s case, other people’s feelings pressed in against her and changed her. If it came down to that, he’d rather be dead than lose himself. She leaned into him.
“You washed away the stain and I remembered how to kill,” she whispered.
He didn’t want to think too much about her killing. She’d killed on that slaver ship, but it was true enough that most of the time she’d been on the Kratos, she’d been about as dangerous as a houseplant. However, the idea of her being a killer was actually less disturbing than the idea she’d been trapped in her own head, because other people’s thoughts had stolen the part of her that knew how to fight at all. He wondered if Ramsay’s refusal to see women as cold-blooded killers had anything to do with her getting so lost in her own head. “What about Ramsay’s color?” Tom asked as the question suddenly came to him.
“Teal and red, always blending in the center into grays and grays and grays.” Da’shay finished rinsing Tom’s body and Tom yelped as she turned the water cold and hit him right on the lower stomach and genitals. “Shit, woman. That’s not right. I don’t mind you playing devil with my parts, but God almighty that ain’t nice.” He pulled at the chains without budging them. Sometimes you could get cheap magnets on cuffs to slide around on a flat surface, but she’d used Tom’s own security-grade cuffs. They weren’t going anywhere until Da’shay reversed the magnet polarity.
“My toy needed help,” Da’shay said in a teasing voice. “Can’t feel the hand holding the leash unless the collar pulls tight on the toy sometimes.”
Tom snorted. “You go calling me that in front of Ramsay and he’s going to throw you off the ship in some stupid attempt to save me from your evil clutches.”
She stopped and turned the water off as she seemed to consider that. “A toy is clung to long after any intrinsic worth is lost. Becca has a marine seal made of fabric and microshredded plastic filler that is worn and she still holds it worth more than extrinsically valuable hardware or credits. She calls it Sammy.”
Tom frowned. He wasn’t all that surprised that Becca was the sort to save a stuffed toy, but he just wasn’t sure what Da’shay was saying about him. As a human, he wasn’t as strong as a genta, but he’d never felt worn out and lacking any intrinsic worth. Well, he didn’t feel worn out, anyway.
Da’shay sucked in a breath and pressed herself to him, their naked bodies slippery. “Teal and indigo bleeding red.” From her tone of voice, none of those were particularly good colors.
“Then tell me why you’re calling me a toy,” Tom said. He couldn’t very well help taking offense if she was calling him worn out.
“Will like you even when you’re worn out.” She cocked her head to the side.
“But you aren’t thinking I’m worn out now?” Tom asked.
“Tom is strong and beautiful and sweats under the sun until even Becca is moist in preparation for sex,” Da’shay answered, her voice serious as she ran her fingers over Tom’s cheek.
“She…” Tom swallowed at the thought Becca was getting wet in the pants for him. If she liked him, she sure had a funny way of showing it. “Are you sure she likes women?” Tom asked.
Da’shay shrugged. “She likes women, but she still looks at Tom with appreciation. But when the day comes that you are old or damaged, I will still cherish and cling to you. You’re my toy.” Da’shay emphasized the “my” and Tom got the feeling she was not the sort to share.
“Do you plan on getting other toys?” Tom asked. Becca said genta liked to collect followers and he really wasn’t sure how he felt about sharing her.
“Do you want other toys?” Da’shay asked him seriously. “Ramsay would make a pretty toy for you to lay under.”
Tom almost choked to death. “You had better be fucking joking. No, no, you will not ever mention that to Ramsay.” The second the words were out, Tom realized that he was talking to a woman who felt totally comfortable gagging him and chaining him to a wall. Whether he wanted it or not was secondary to whether she wanted it.
Her smile was slow and lazy. “I only want Tom. Tom is my toy and will be forever.”
Tom sighed in relief. “That’s one disaster avoided,” he said, more to himself than her. “I just don’t think you should use the word ‘toy.’ It’s going to make the captain turn all kinds of colors,” Tom said. Da’shay reached up and unhooked the cuffs from Tom’s wrists, leaving the chains to hang from the shower wall.
Rubbing his wrists, he waited to see what she wanted. She handed him the soap and pushed him back a half-step so he was pressed against the wall. Then she just looked at him. Tom could feel the frustration of not understanding start to rise up like a bubble.
Da’shay took his hand with the soap and brought it to her chest and moved it over her collarbone and then down over her round, firm breast. “Mutual grooming for production of oxytocin and better socialization,” she said. The words didn’t make much sense, but Tom could figure out she wanted washing. He ran his hands over her body, her strong muscles tensing and relaxing as he let the soap and his fingers explore curves. He’d never really got to look at a woman like this before and he ran the soap down the blue stripe between her breasts before running the soap through the curls between her legs.
“You want me to bring you off?” Tom asked. He had talented fingers, or at least the doxies he’d hired told him he had, and generally he thought they were telling the truth because he could get them to lose all control and make that twisted expression that meant they were coming hard. Women tended to try to hide that particular face, but Tom loved how a woman looked when she lost all control.
“Nope, just touching,” Da’shay said. Tom opened his mouth to protest, but she brought a finger up and put it over his lips. “Mutual orgasms later. Touch and oxytocin production from stimulation of skin now. Brown to white, washing out the other lights.” She turned and pressed herself back against Tom. Tom sighed and set to exploring her curves and making sure every bit of her was clean. As carefully as she’d washed him, he figured she was really into getting clean. Sinking to his knees, he lifted one of her feet and started washing.
“If not toy, what should I call you?” Da’shay asked. She leaned against his shoulder as he ran his hands over
her legs, soaping them and feeling the curve of the muscle.
Tom thought about that. “Slave and toy are both likely to make Ramsay crazy,” Tom said. He figured her legs were clean, but simply touching a woman was a real pleasure. He ran his hands all the way up until his fingers found her hot clit inside its hood. Da’shay flicked her finger against his head hard enough to sting and Tom pulled his hands back and settled for stroking up her slippery legs. He knew a word, but it might drive Ramsay just as crazy and Tom really wasn’t sure he wanted Da’shay using it.
He was thinking on that when the water came on and he got a mouthful of wash water. He spluttered and got to his feet, taking the shower head from Da’shay. “You’re dangerous,” he complained.
She stroked a hand over his cheek. “Colors too bright. Too much teal.”
“Can’t exactly help it,” Tom said, but he rinsed the soap from Da’shay’s legs. “It’s just that most of the time if two people are having sex and planning on staying with each other forever, they call each other mates.” Tom remembered standing on a kitchen chair so he’d be tall enough to rinse potatoes in the sink. His father would kiss the back of his mother’s neck and call her his favorite mate. His mother always laughed before pointing out that she was his only mate. Tom blinked and pushed that memory aside. He didn’t like to think about that laughing version of his mother because it hurt too much considering who she became later.
“Soft blue, like a flower washed out by the sun.” She traced over his slave mark, and Tom shook his head.
“Old memories,” he said. “Can you see what I’m remembering? Do you know what I’m thinking about?”
She looked at him and shook her head. “Only the blue-gray staining your white.”
“You could fix that,” Tom said. He started to reach for his own cock, but Da’shay’s hand caught him.
“My mate. My right to play with him, but he has other things to think about than the white. Ship all stained red and teal.”
“What? Something’s wrong with the ship?” Tom turned the water off and was ready to leave, but Da’shay caught his arm.
“Only the same shadows that’ve been over the ship the whole time. No new enemies.” She reached over and handed him the shampoo. Tom was caught. If something was going on with the ship, he should find out what, but he did love running his hands through the cool silk of Da’shay’s hair and she didn’t seem to think the danger was immediate. Actually, it couldn’t be too bad because Ramsay hadn’t come for him. Officially, Eli was second in command, but in reality, the captain relied on Tom to handle security issues.
“My mate.” Da’shay said firmly, and from that Tom did get the impression that they weren’t leaving the shower until he’d finished his job. There was something comforting in knowing that she wasn’t going to let him race back and forth between her and Ramsay. She was making it more than clear that he was hers and Ramsay was going to have to come second. Command would give birth to kittens at the thought of a soldier not answering to his commanding officer, but Tom was oddly unbothered. He poured a small amount of shampoo into his hand and stroked her long, silky wet hair.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Tom was fingering the cuffs locked around his wrists as he followed Da’shay into the galley. Ramsay was going to have all kinds of fits. Not only was Da’shay holding his leash, but she’d dressed him in a shirt just as indecent as the one he’d worn yesterday, and she’d added magnetic cuffs that Tom couldn’t stop fingering. The metal had warmed to the touch and he kept rubbing the etched surface. These were slave cuffs, not anything he’d put on a prisoner.
“Tom!” Becca stood up when they came in the room and Tom made himself leave the cuffs alone. The look of shock on her face was enough to make him uncomfortable enough without drawing attention to them.
“Becca,” Tom answered. “Do you really get wet when—” Tom didn’t have a chance to finish because Da’shay’s elbow found his stomach.
“Da’shay! You’re not being very nice,” Becca said, but she sat down again without more than a frown.
“Got a question for you,” Tom said as he grabbed a piece of fruit from the center of the table. “Someone did scan these, right?” he asked as he looked at the apple. He sat and ignored the way Da’shay kept running a finger over his collar.
“Of course. You don’t have to ask about something like that,” Becca grabbed a piece for herself and took a bite out of it. “Desert apples, taste a little like almond. Have you talked to the captain?” She stared at her apple and Tom noticed that her eyes were puffy.
“Someone die?” he asked. Becca wasn’t one for crying, not unless she was trying to distract someone. They’d been in a real bad spot about a year back and she’d gone off crying until the smugglers had been so uncomfortable they were caught between telling her to shut up and feeling bad about making a sweet little woman like her cry. Becca playing them for fools right up until Tom killed ‘em both.
She looked up at him. “A few somebodies. Maybe you’d best talk to the captain.” She looked back down at her apple and Tom looked to Da’shay.
“Indigo and blue spinning all around,” Da’shay offered. Tom didn’t exactly know what she meant, but it didn’t sound particularly good that the colors were everywhere. It meant whatever happened had affected the whole ship and Eli hadn’t been with them long enough to know the same people.
Feeling as if he had a weight in his stomach, he stood up and glanced toward the pilot’s deck. Da’shay started in that direction and Tom didn’t have a chance to wonder what he should do because he was following the leash. “Captain?” Tom called. Da’shay stepped into the room and Tom followed. Eli and Ramsay were both sitting at the navigational table and even Tom could tell they were out of sorts. “Captain?” Tom asked again. The man looked like a rag that’d been wrung out and left to dry in the sun—all blotchy and lifeless.
“Tom,” Ramsay answered without even commenting on the shirt or the leash and cuffs. “Brief him,” he ordered Eli.
Eli did look at the cuffs, but he just hit the play contro, and Tom watched the newswoman appear over the star charts on the nav table. Eli half turned away from the image.
“The explosion took the lives of six Corps members, the most notable of which is Berley Tarby, the captain of the Ice Queen, which was working undercover. Captain Tarby is best known as the ‘Children’s Savior’ for his actions during the casslit war. Using a badly damaged ship, he evacuated 73 children from Rain 7 when the planet was about—”
Ramsay cut the volume and the woman’s voice vanished, but the vid continued to run, showing archive footage of a young soldier in the green uniforms Earth had used during the casslit wars. Tom looked at the captain. The casslit war was a faint memory for Tom; Beauteous had been too far from the front to really be bothered much, except by the lack of supplies from the inner worlds. However the captain had survived one war already, and he was pale at the thought of another.
“We should show him the last part, sir,” Eli said. Ramsay didn’t react.
Da’shay leaned into Tom. “Blues and blues, washing through the gray,” she whispered. Tom was glad he couldn’t understand her much because whatever bad the captain was feeling, Tom figured he had a right to his privacy. Tom didn’t need to know it.
Eli moved the slider to the end of the broadcast and turned the volume up. “This whole transmission was coded—buried in the stream. So far, it seems like the Corps is keeping this from being broadcast outside the inner planets. Most of the docks in-system have shut down, and the outer colonies and slave worlds are shutting down their docks in response, but all I’m seeing on local channels are a lot of rumors—no one knows about this.”
Turning the sound back on, Eli watched Ramsay.
“Earth Command has no comment, but sources at the medical center say this is actually the second ship targeted by smugglers moving out of the slave colonies. The first was a freighter registered in Aribella, but the latest attack—”
Ramsay reached out and hit the kill switch on the broadcast and the navigational table went black. Aribella—that’s where the Kratos had her papers. At least Command hadn’t ruined their cover. “There’s going to be war over this. Tarby is a hero. Command is going to want to make the slavers pay.” Ramsay’s voice was dangerously quiet.
“You think it was Hou?” Tom asked. He moved forward until he was standing by the nav table.
Ramsay ran a hand through his hair. “Who knows? If we’d reported back before the dock shut down, that’s what Command would conclude.” Ramsay didn’t say he believed it, but then the captain was smarter than Command, as far as Tom could see.
“Illogical,” Da’shay said. “Profit means more slaves, more slaves means more control. Genta build worlds around control,” Da’shay said softly. “Control and command. Who you follow, who follows you.”
Ramsay truly looked at Tom and Da’shay for the first time. “New outfit, Tom?”
“Yep,” Tom agreed without getting upset. He couldn’t even imagine how it must feel to survive one war and see another one coming right at you, so he was giving the captain some slack.
“Slaving seems to agree with Da’shay,” he said, still talking to Tom.
Tom looked over at Da’shay, not understanding what Ramsay wanted. “Indigo flashes in blue,” Da’shay told him, as though that made any sense.
“Or maybe it doesn’t. She’s still sounding crazy,” Ramsay said with a sigh. “I just wish I knew why. Why would Hou do this?” Ramsay thumbed a control and a picture of Captain Tarby came up. He was an older man with deep wrinkles and pure white hair, but he still looked like someone who could take care of himself. Actually, he looked a little like Ramsay, only Ramsay’s nose hadn’t gotten that big, bulbous old-man look to it yet.
“Da’shay, this make any sense to you?” Tom asked.
