Dark Runner: LodeStar 3.5

by Cathryn Cade

  “Access holomenu for contents of storage units, cooking capabilities and recycle directions,” said a sultry voice.

  “Bottled water,” Scala said, looking around with admiration. With a craft like this, one could travel the galaxy and want for nothing. It was as far from the succession of old scows on which she’d spent the last two years as a diamond was from a chunk of space rock.

  A recess in one of the cabinets lit up, and a bottle of water slid into view.

  Scala grabbed the water and twisted the recyclable wax top open, tipping her head back to take a long drink. She sighed with pleasure. Mmm, nice and clean and chilled, with no odd taste as if it had been recycled through old metal.

  “Food menu,” she decided. She watched with sheer, greedy pleasure as a holovid list scrolled through a list of packaged meals and snacks. “Berry and yogurt drink. And a sandwich—poultry. And a chocolate crisp. No, two chocolate crisps.”

  Maybe the crisps would be the kind with little chunks of real chocolate. The poultry wouldn’t be real, but that was okay, she wouldn’t know the difference. As a child, she and her mother hadn’t been able to afford anything except vegeprotein and vitamin supplements in place of fresh produce. The only times she’d eaten well were at the guard academy and while she’d been employed by LodeStar.

  Until she’d quarked that up. She’d long since ceased to blame the whole debacle on Ssaar. Yeah, he’d been a sadist and a user, but she’d been an idiot. She’d fallen into his arms like a ripe plumquot, ready to be devoured by any male who paid attention to her, while she pretended it was more than sex. She was definitely over that.

  Darkrunner appeared just as she was finishing the last bite of the sandwich, which was surprisingly tasty, full of thin sliced veg and white meat, with a creamy, peppery dressing. She froze, and then licked her fingers, watching him over her hand.

  His duster was gone and so were his shoes. Hells, even his feet were sexy, with high arches and neatly trimmed nails, only a dusting of hair on his bare toes. With his olive skin, his feet weren’t pasty white like many humans’ feet were.

  He wore a pair of black knit sleep pants that hung on his narrow hips, and a burgundy tee that was so snug she could see every muscle in his torso, and the twin grooves in his groin, pointing the way down toward—no, she reminded herself. Just no.

  She jerked her gaze away from him and concentrated on draining the last drops of the sweet, cool berry drink, not drooling over his male package, or the bulge of his biceps and the surprisingly broad plain of his chest under that snug shirt.

  She wished he’d get on with whatever he’d come for, and not just stand there, sucking all the oxygen out of the space.

  “So, what does Zharrdul mean?” she asked, crumpling her empty drink bottle.

  He crossed the few meters between them. She waited for him to stop, and then froze as he leaned close, so close she could feel the heat coming off his body and his scent filled her nostrils—virile male in his prime, with an edge of some peppery spice, almost like incense, as if he had emerged from some arcane, exotic ritual.

  So close she felt his breath ghosting over the bare skin of her temple when he spoke, his voice a low rasp in her ear. “It means the monster in the dark.”

  Then he reached past her and grabbed a bottle of water from the recess, which she hadn’t even seen light up, so focused on him had she been. Hells, if she were human with the capillaries that ran so close beneath the surface of her skin to give off heat, she would’ve blushed.

  She couldn’t control the shiver that raced through her, but that was some weird reaction to his physicality. He gave off pheromones like a Tyger in full mating shift. As for the rest, just common sense to be afraid of a man with his reputation. Fear kept beings cautious, kept them alive.

  Ignoring his smirk, she slipped from the table, her shoulder bumping his hard chest. She slid around him to lean against the counter and consult her com. “Does not. It means ... your name. Zharrdul … Dark traveler ... Darkrunner. ”

  He took a drink from his bottle of water, his gaze holding hers. As he lowered the bottle, he smiled, droplets of water glistening on his lower lip. “Like I said, Snake Eyes. I’m the monster in the dark.”

  Everything in her rose instantly to his challenge, hot and eager. She’d like to tangle with him in the dark, nothing but touch, scent and taste to guide her as she explored the limits of what he could do with that mouth and those beringed hands.

  To hide the impulse, she cocked her head and looked him over as slowly and thoroughly as he’d done to her. She knew better than most that monsters resided in the skins of ordinary beings. It seemed this one liked to warn his victims—the better to enjoy their fear. The hells with that—she wasn’t some little virgin to cower as he showed off his honed body and his big cock.

  “Well, keep in mind, snakes aren’t afraid of the dark.”

  His smirk widened, became a smile showing teeth a startling white against the olive skin and ebony ink. His gaze slid down to her breasts. She could feel her nipples tighten into telltale knots under that caressing gaze. “They should be, when they’re as tasty as you.”

  Heat rippled through her, mingling with the chill of fear in a cocktail that was shockingly enticing. Hells, she was twisted. She wanted him even more because she was afraid of him, not in spite of it. And that was something she could never let him sense, or he’d take instant and total advantage.

  Self-disgust smeared over her arousal, drowning it as thoroughly as cold water. What her fickle libido craved didn’t matter— she was never going there again. These days she only fucked males she could control. Safer that way. And she didn’t see this one letting her be on top, not figuratively at least.

  Also, she realized with an unpleasant shock, the last thing she wanted was him using her as a substitute for Kiri.

  Looking at the other woman in a hololink was like looking in a mirror...one that reflected a sweet, happy version of herself. She’d never been the first, and couldn’t remember the second, but she knew that it didn’t lie in the arms of a man with another woman on his mind.

  Anyway, she was here for something much more important than sex. She could resist Chaz Jaguari himself if she had to, to get that pardon. And she’d crushed on the galactic singing star since she was a girl.

  Still, she was Serpentian. The ganger would be suspicious if she retreated too quickly. She gave him a slow wink as she moved past him toward the exit. “I am tasty. Just keep in mind the prettiest serpents are the ones with the nastiest venom. And believe me, I bite.”

  He moved with that deceptive swiftness, crowding her back against the bulkhead. Too late, she saw her mistake. He wasn’t the man to back down from a challenge of any kind, or one she could deflect with humor as she had Darry.

  And worst of all, the closer he got, the more she wanted him right where he was.

  “My blood runs with anti-venin,” he whispered, his face so close his beautiful eyes were all she could see, his scent all she could smell, his breath mingling with hers as if they were lovers about to kiss. “So don’t—ever—mistake me for one of your victims, no matter how pretty you are, Snake Eyes.”

  Her shudder was repulsion at his threat, she told herself. Not instant and liquid arousal. Time to back down, or at least pretend to. Remember the prize.

  “I wouldn’t think of it,” she answered, holding his gaze. Not that she could’ve looked away even if she’d wanted to.

  Oh, please oh please don’t let him decide to press those thin, sculpted lips to her face, not now. She wasn’t sure she wouldn’t melt in his arms, hot and malleable as liquid fireglass. She pressed her palms flat against the bulkhead behind her to keep from reaching for him, grabbing him by those braids and hauling him in for a long, wet kiss.

  He drew back, taking all that delicious heat with him, his gaze so cold ice splintered through her haze of arousal. “Good. Then we understand each other. Now get busy and familiarize yourself with the ship. Any ques
tions, ask. Otherwise, keep out of my way.”

  She scowled after him as he prowled away. The bastard was ice inside and out. “Where do you turn up the heat? This place is frosty enough a skrog would be asking for an extra hide.”

  “Put on some more clothes,” he said without turning. “We’re from New Seattle, we like it cool.”

  “Yeah, you’re all heart,” she muttered, turning to toss her empty bottle in the recycler and grab her packets of crispies from the table. So much for luxury. Guess this trip was going to mean wearing her leathers all the time, just like the old rust buckets she’d been working on.

  At least Logan Stark turned up the heat on his craft. But she didn’t quite have the nerve to taunt Darkrunner with that comparison. Not if he hated Stark enough to kill him.

  She stopped with a scowl, realizing one of her crispies was missing. Darn him. She finally got her hands on some quality sweets, and he stole one right out from under her nose.

  She went back to the menu and chose a chunk of frosted gremel-fruit cake and a chocolate nut bar. Then she took her haul back to her cubby to enjoy in peace.

  After her dessert, Scala used the lav again and slid into her bunk. She nearly moaned with pleasure as she snuggled into the soft, clean bedding, under the layers of cloud soft duvet. At least she’d be warm enough while she slept. She was warm, clean and full as a constrictor that had swallowed a whole bunny. Perfect.

  Her comlink chimed, startling her. Uneasily, she opened the link, and found herself gazing at a Serpentian with long, dark hair and a smile as cheery and practiced as a LodeStar flight attendant.

  “Hi, cousin,” the other woman said, peering at Scala’s bunk with interest. “Nice. Did you get a new position?”

  “Hi, yourself, cousin,” Scala replied. “I did. I’m aboard the Zharrdul, out of Earth II.”

  Since she’d never, as far as she knew, had a cousin, Scala found it somewhat ironic that her handlers had chosen this disguise for her relay contact with them. Daarla Yal lived on Serpentia and worked for a security firm run by an associate of Bronc Berenson. She was probably getting paid very well for this side gig.

  “Sounds exciting,” Daarla said with a wistful pout. “Where are you going? Think you’ll be anywhere near Gavial City? We could meet for dinner and catch up.”

  “I’ll let you know,” Scala said. “So far I have no idea.” She shrugged. “Not my business where we go, you know? I’m just here to protect the owner if we run into trouble.”

  “Well, at least you’re working guard duty again. Kind of like your old post on the Orion, right?”

  “Kind of,” Scala said dryly. Only not. Then she’d protected the passengers and crew from pirates, now she worked for one. She only hoped he didn’t get into a confrontation with the law here, because then which side was she supposed to choose?

  “Any starry guys on board?” Daarla asked with a twinkle. “Or gals?”

  “Three guys and a gal,” Scala said. “Except ... I don’t know if I’d count one guy as starry. He’s a Mau. Little scary, you know?”

  “So have you been to any fun places yet?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Well, keep me posted of your travels here. I really wanna get together. We haven’t had girl time in forever.”

  “Exactly what I was just thinking,” Scala agreed. As in never.

  The woman was pouring it on a little thick. But then again, Daarla wasn’t behaving any more foolishly than the younger siblings of Scala’s fellow students at guard academy. Family was irritatingly nosy at times.

  Not that Scala would know firsthand. After her mother died, she’d had no one left to link. She’d made friends at the academy, but lost them after her arrest, and most of the beings she’d met on her latest jobs she’d been glad to see the last of, with the exception of Kiri.

  Figured that when she finally received a link from ‘family’, the connection was as false as her role here.

  * * *

  In the cockpit, Tal ate his chocolate crispie and listened in on Scala’s link with her cousin. When Scala broke the link with a yawn, he opened another link and checked up on Daarla Yal. She was a receptionist at a security firm in Gavial City, had a boyfriend and a rented condo.

  The cousin had no ties to any organizations that roused Tal’s suspicions, so after a moment he broke the link and sat back to watch his newest hire lower the lights in her sleep cubby, pull the covers up around her shell-like ears and cocoon herself for sleep.

  He contemplated the top of her head, and the silky dark curls he could see on her pillow. He didn’t trust her, but then he didn’t trust anyone until they proved themselves worthy.

  He’d learned the hard way, especially a beautiful woman. He’d set up his first business as a teen, an operation salvaging parts from water craft moored at the New Seattle marine docks. He and his small gang had worked at night, in and out with such stealth even experienced guards hadn’t been able to catch them. And by the time the maritime companies brought in motion and heat sensor security equipment, he had Trix and Darry, a team with unparalleled tech skills.

  Until he met Quoria Dey, a blonde with mysterious blue eyes and a body that was a teenage boy’s wet dream. He’d been in her bed when her lover, a ganger lord with a penchant for moving in on smaller operations, had killed those of Tal’s gang working that night, and then come after Tal.

  The hulking man, who called himself Brutal, had beaten Tal within an inch of his life, while his lover watched. His last glimpse of her had been the unholy excitement and lust lighting up her face as she watched him cough up blood from broken ribs.

  Their mistake had been leaving Tal for dead, without making sure that he was. Trix and Darry had found him, and then found a medtech who would let them pay when they could.

  Tal hid, living on his rage until he was well enough. Then he stole a laser weapon, walked into the dingy club where Brutal and his woman liked to hold court, and killed them both in full view of the denizens of the club

  Not a being in the place protested. Instead they watched as this new, young human with death in his eyes walked around the table, used one booted foot to shove Brutal’s body to the floor, and assumed his seat. Trix and Darry moved in to flank him, while Dalg took position to one side.

  “Anyone who’ll stand with me,” Tal told the silent crowd, “can stay. I’ll take care of you, no matter what. Anyone who tries to betray me … “ he nodded at the bodies on the floor.

  He set his weapon on the table before him and leaned back in his chair. “Choose.”

  A few dock riff raff slid out the exits of the club. One by one, the others came to present themselves to Tal and offer their allegiance to one who was brave enough and crazy enough to rid them of Brutal.

  And a new ganger lord was born.

  Tal had had many women since then, and some men, all of them attractive. He trusted very few of them.

  Scala Raj wasn’t going to be around long enough to be a problem anyway, and with her past, there was no way she had any connection to the man who’d spurred him to take on this mission. No way in hells.

  He cut the link, then lay back in his comfortable chair and stared at the muted lights on the console of his cruiser. A familiar satisfaction filled him. The Zharrdul was his, from her fancy layered gelpaint exterior to her cerametal fitments, to the real silk velvet duvets on every bunk.

  The cruiser was his latest acquisition, and even when he was deep in the building he’d taken over and refurbished bit by bit so that the shabby main floor club was now the Flash, the top floor his luxurious penthouse and the middle floors his business offices, he could feel his beauty crouched on the roof of the building like a protective beast, ready to snarl into life at his command. To carry him anywhere, high above the noise, crowds and crush of buildings that comprised his world.

  He’d always come back, though. To the astonishment of many, Tal had no intention of ever leaving New Seattle or the gritty streets into which he’d been thrus
t at a tender age to fend for himself. He smiled to himself. They’d never understand how much more satisfying it was to stay, and to know that now when he walked those streets, everyone he met stepped aside for him, many with fear in their eyes, but all with respect.

  And to know that those who had tried to best him had gone down in blood and flames themselves. But not before crawling in abject fear. Oh, he still had enemies and always would, for the slums spawned criminals like the seas spawned finned creatures.

  But New Seattleites knew he was the man to come to if they needed protection. And he gave it, in return for loyalty. To be under the awning of his gang meant to be safe from the sentient trash that prowled the city, alert for any weakness, ready to use and destroy the innocent, the vulnerable, the helpless.

  Once it was known they were Darkrunner’s, they were no longer the last two. And since he’d never had the luxury of innocence himself, he had little patience for it. It was better given up, so a being could get on with life.

  He found himself picturing a pair of golden eyes that glowed with defiance which couldn’t quite hide the shadows deep within. He reckoned it had been a long time since Scala Raj had been innocent. What string of events had ripped that veil away for her?

  Tal rose, shaking his head in irritation. Fuck, he was in danger of becoming sentimental here. What did he care about a Serp warrior with wounded eyes? Time to get to bed.

  Chapter Six

  Failure.

  That was what Scala had feared the most when she set out on this mission. The kind of fear that turned her guts turned to jelly and her legs to rubber. Failure to keep Tal Darkrunner occupied and away from his empire in the streets of New Seattle, Earth II. Failure to gain the thing she wanted more than anything else—her freedom.

  Once she’d met the ganger in person, her fears had shifted to include his wrath. If he ever learned why she was really on the Zharrdul, he might kill her in a cold rage. A man who tossed a female off of a gangplank to see if she’d land on her feet didn’t know the meaning of the word mercy.