Daughters of Lyra: Heart of a Mercenary

by Felicity Heaton

  A bright burst of light blinded her and she flinched away from the open door. When it closed again, the pinhole light above her came on. She squinted as her eyes adjusted to it.

  A man stepped under the light, his black spiked hair and equally black eyes betraying his species as much as his sharp teeth did when he spoke.

  “Not a word.”

  Another Minervan.

  This one was young and handsome.

  And he spoke Lyran.

  ****

  Chapter 2

  Kosen approached the female slowly. He ran his gaze over her from her heavy boots up her slender legs to her ample cleavage and from there to her beautiful face. She was a siren that could make any male’s blood boil. It was exactly as their contact had promised them. She would fetch a good price at the auction on Minerva Nine in four days time.

  Her silver hair shimmered under the spotlight, glowing in a way.

  She was more beautiful in the flesh than he had imagined she would be. He had never seen such a figure matched with a goddess’s face and silver hair. There was none like her at the markets.

  “Food,” Kosen said and showed her the small black protein pack in his hand.

  Her nose wrinkled up and she turned her head away. He frowned and then realised that her tight flight suit was dirty. Whatever she had had in her stomach was now down her front.

  With a sigh, he walked over to the side of the room and placed the protein pack down on one of the containers. He picked up a cloth and went back to the female. He hadn’t expected that he would be cleaning as well as feeding her but they had to keep her presentable. The smell of sick on her might lower her value. He needed her to fetch the best price.

  “He frightened you that much?” Kosen muttered and wiped the vomit off her clothes. She struggled when he cleaned her chest. It didn’t stop him. Years of working in the slave trade had taught him that she wasn’t really a woman. She was an object that would soon pass from his hands to another’s. If he saw her that way, he wouldn’t care what happened to her.

  It was best this way.

  Yet, he was speaking Lyran to her. He was talking a language that disgusted most of his species, even though a member of the Minervan royal family was now the queen of the Lyran people.

  To him, Lyran was a musical language.

  “Cruskin nyaaeso!” The female lurched forwards. Her rebellious actions only served to press her breasts against his hands.

  They both froze.

  She immediately shrank back and spat in his face, as though he had touched her on purpose. It was her fault for arching into him.

  A tirade of foul language spilled from her lips. Lyran was beautiful sometimes at least. When she spoke it, she said every word with so much venom that it sounded Minervan.

  “I said to be quiet,” he warned and finished cleaning her. “I’ve never had a prisoner be sick down themselves before. Try not to do it again. I don’t think Nostra deserves such a violent reaction.”

  “Nostra?” she whispered, as though saying it quietly meant that she wasn’t breaking the rules.

  “The man you met earlier.” Kosen couldn’t believe that he was talking to her. Something about her made him respond. He had seen captives frightened before but never to this extent.

  “Not him,” she said and he looked at her. Her dark eyes were only a shade closer to brown than his were. They were wide and round, rimmed with long thick black lashes. “Not sick for him.”

  She swallowed with a look of discomfort. When he saw the red marks on her throat, he frowned. Nostra had put the collar on too tight. Kosen reached around her to loosen it. Damaged goods sold for less.

  The moment his body touched hers, she moved back as far as possible. He rolled his eyes and waited for her to spit at him again. As though he would intentionally press himself against her. He wasn’t Sasue.

  “Keep still,” Kosen said and moved the collar onto the next latch, giving her more room. “There.”

  She was frowning when he stepped away.

  “Why were you sick?” He studied her. She was paler than when he had first seen her. She needed to eat, but he knew without trying that she would refuse the protein pack if he offered it to her again.

  “Sub-space.”

  That one word made him frown along with her. When they had boarded her vessel, she had been in cryo-sleep. Their contact had mentioned that they would find her there. Had she been in cryo-sleep because they had been travelling in sub-space?

  “We’re stationary now.” He stopped himself before he mentioned their location. The less she knew, the better.

  “I know,” she whispered and closed her eyes, swallowing hard as though she was trying to stop herself from vomiting again. “Others with me.”

  “Don’t think about them.”

  Kosen went to the crate and placed the cloth down. His gaze slid to the protein pack. It was worth a try. He was here to get her to eat after all. He picked it up and walked back to her.

  “Will you eat?”

  She shook her head. This wasn’t good. If he failed to convince her to eat, Nostra would kill him. They had elected him with this female because he was the youngest and nearest to her age in relative terms, and the safest option. If she didn’t eat, she would lose weight. As it was, she was already borderline. Bags of bones didn’t sell well. In fact, they made less money than damaged goods.

  “They’re dead,” she said, her voice a broken whisper. Her dark eyes were full of tears.

  This wasn’t what he needed. Crying females were impossible to deal with and difficult to keep emotional distance from.

  Normally, he left the room.

  He couldn’t leave her though.

  With a long sigh, Kosen went over to the crate and picked up a clean cloth. He went back to her and tried to wipe her tears away but she lowered her head and turned it away from him. He tried again and she turned her face the other way. He growled in frustration and ground his teeth, his jaw tensing so hard that his teeth creaked.

  He offered the protein pack. She shook her head and kept it hung forwards. Nostra had ordered him to remain with her until she had eaten. At this rate, he wasn’t going to be getting off the ship before they left dock in a day’s time.

  He dragged a crate across the room and sat down on it. There were supplies that he needed to get before they broke port, but he was willing to wait for her to become hungry. It couldn’t take that long. As far as he knew, Lyrans ate quite frequently. With her stomach empty, she would soon be asking for the food. He picked his nails to pass the time and then toyed with the protein pack, shifting the black liquid contents from one end of the rubbery casing to the other. It amused him for a few minutes at best. Next, he tapped out a rhythm on the crate beneath him, trying to recall a tune from his youth.

  Slowly, she raised her head again and looked at him. Kosen could feel her eyes on him, studying. He let her drink her fill of him and take him all in. He wasn’t much to look at. Probably just another bastard Minervan to her. Regardless of the fact that her queen was Minervan, she would still hate his kind. Lyrans had always hated them. Minervans had always hated Lyrans in return. Nothing would change that.

  “Did you kill them?” she whispered.

  His gaze shifted to her.

  He wasn’t going to lie to her. Perhaps if she knew the truth, she would be more cooperative. The quicker that she lost hope of being rescued the better. They needed her to behave herself. Normally, they had weeks to break a captive’s spirits. This time they had barely days.

  “Not all. Some,” he said and her focus fell to the floor.

  A string of perfect Minervan swearwords issued from her lips. His left eyebrow rose. She knew his language. He reminded himself that she had been an ambassador. It shouldn’t be so surprising that she would be educated and would know some of the primary languages of the galaxy.

  Kosen frowned when her hair suddenly flattened.

  She hadn’t moved but it had. Was there somethin
g about her that their contact hadn’t mentioned? Kosen went over to her and brushed his fingers through the long silver locks of her hair, studying them and ignoring how she flinched away. There was definitely something different about her. He had never seen a Lyran with silver hair before. The contact had only told them that she was beautiful and Lyran. When they had seen a picture, her silver hair hadn’t been evident. They had only seen her beauty and had immediately agreed a cut of her sale price with their contact, knowing that this time they would make a fortune.

  A Lyran with silver hair though.

  Something about that didn’t seem right.

  Kosen looked closer. She hadn’t altered its colour. She was naturally silver haired. It would definitely add to her price. He combed his fingers through it and when he touched her cheek, her hair moved again, the tips of it shifting as though a breeze had caught them.

  When he went to touch her hair, she spat in his face and lunged forwards, attempting to bite him. He leapt backwards to avoid her teeth and glared at her as he wiped the spit from his face. She was a passionate one. Nostra would probably have to gag her at the auction. With a mouth like hers, she was likely to lower her price by swearing or attempting to bite anyone who tried to inspect her.

  “Don’t touch me,” she growled and glared back at him. “Murderer. Minervan.”

  The way that she had said those two words together made them sound as though they were the same to her.

  They were definitely going to need to think things through before they reached the auction. She might be worth a fortune, but she could easily lower her price. Kosen sat back down on the crate and studied her closely. She glared at him, her eyes never leaving his face even as his roamed her body. Nostra was right to take a risk on her, but the fight had damaged their ship and now they all had blood on their hands. Before now, he hadn’t needed to kill anyone. It had brought back memories of that night and the nightmare returned each time that he tried to sleep. He relived every moment in vivid detail, a strange combination of that night, killing the other passengers on her vessel and of her.

  “If you eat, I can leave.” He offered the pack to her again and she looked as though she was considering it.

  “If you leave, will another come?”

  She was wary too. Intelligent. She was clearly thinking ahead and concerned that another with a more sinister objective than his one of feeding her might come along should he leave.

  “No one damages the merchandise,” he said, flat and emotionless. “It’s something we’ve all agreed to and the punishment is severe enough to make us all think twice.”

  “Severe?” she said with a little frown.

  He made a chopping motion with his fingers.

  Her eyes widened.

  The threat of having their sexual organs cut off should they lower a slave’s value by any means seemed enough to stop most from trying to get physical with one. Most. Not all.

  “Now eat,” he said and held the pack out to her.

  She looked at her hands and smiled politely. “I am afraid I cannot.”

  He ripped the pack open with his teeth, stepped up close to her, and pressed the opening against her lips.

  “Eat.”

  She opened her mouth. A strange jolt rocked Kosen when her tongue peeked out to touch the protein pack. It disappeared back into her mouth, coated in sticky black liquid, and she pulled a face of pure disgust. Seeing that she was going to refuse him again, he waited for her to open her mouth and then pushed the pack into it. One squeeze and she was gulping it down in a desperate attempt to stop herself from drowning. He wasn’t normally so rough with the captives but he wanted to get away from her before he experienced anything remotely close to what he had felt on seeing her soft pink tongue sensually stroke the pack.

  When she choked, he pulled the pack from her mouth. She glared up at him through her hair, her eyes black and full of hatred. Good. Perhaps she would learn to be more cooperative and then he wouldn’t have to be around her as much.

  Kosen checked the protein pack to make sure that she had eaten it all and then pushed the crate back against the wall of the small dark room. When he reached the door, he stopped and looked back at her. She was watching him, her eyes wide in the dim light. Her silver hair had fallen down her front, cascading over the tight flight suit and spilling across her cleavage. Her lips parted as though she wanted to say something. Whatever it was, it would probably ruin this momentary illusion of beauty before him.

  This fleeting feeling of attraction.

  Closing his eyes, he turned and walked out of the door. He pressed the panel to close it and then his fingers danced across the pad, punching in a combination of symbols that would seal the door to any but him. He could easily justify what he was doing. She needed rest and as the ship’s tactician and doctor, he had a right to lock her away. If Sasue were to visit her, he didn’t know what would happen. Sasue had a thing for innocence. It lured him like a Polaris moth was drawn to fire and ended just as badly, at least for the innocent.

  He couldn’t risk anyone harming her.

  No.

  He wouldn’t let anyone harm her.

  ****

  Chapter 3

  The young man was back. He sat in the corner, just in the shadows. Miali could make out his silhouetted figure and the computer pad he held lit his face. What was he was doing? A mocking voice at the back of her mind said that he was probably writing down her vital statistics and figuring out how much she was worth.

  Was she worth the death of all those people on her ship? Surely, it would have benefited these people to sell those men too? It didn’t make any sense.

  Unless their ship wasn’t large enough to keep all of them captive. Her cell was small, the walls on either side only a few feet from the tips of her outstretched hands. It seemed a little longer than it was wide, but not by much.

  “Are you feeling better today?” the man said. He was looking at her.

  Her eyes met his. The light of the computer screen made his skin pale blue. His black eyes held hers. Every moment from their last meeting flashed across her eyes—every brush of his body against hers. Her hair shifted. She cursed it when the man’s gaze moved to it and then cursed herself for thinking about the strange way that she had felt when he had been close.

  He stood and walked over to her, reaching around behind him. His movements drew her attention to his tight black flight suit and the belt that circled his narrow waist. The suit left nothing to the imagination. He was all lithe muscle, hard and compact. He pulled a device out and ran it over her.

  “Where are you from?” he said as he methodically scanned her body and then her hair. It was behaving itself. She thanked Iskara and then cursed again when he brushed his fingers through her hair and it reacted. It hadn’t reacted to a male’s touch in years. Why did it have to react to him, now, when she needed to remain incognito?

  She didn’t like him. This man had murdered people that she knew. He might have killed Eryc.

  “Lyra,” she said. It wasn’t a lie but it wasn’t the answer that he was looking for either. He ran the device over her again and then frowned at the display.

  “Not wholly Lyra,” he said and touched the screen in several different places. A smile tilted his lips and she stared at them. A warm feeling settled in her chest as she studied the subtle curve of his lips and the hint of dusky pink about them that darkened where they met. Her hair shifted again, floating upwards. His look turned to one of fascination and his voice lowered to a whisper that felt too intimate. “Where are you from?”