“No, I fucking despise space travel,” the human scoffed, his words sharp and bitter. “Have our Trogvyk associates deliver her to me on Earth. Do what you will with the human.”
“As you wish, Master.” The words slithered from Qurbaga’s throat, oily and obsequious.
I heard the measured tread of footsteps as the human departed. I strained against my bonds, muscles coiling and flexing, desperate to catch even a glimpse of the monster who would threaten my daughter, to memorize his features so I could hunt him across the galaxy if necessary. But the restraints held me immobile, the angle wrong, my view obscured by shadow and stone. Unfortunately, my movements caught Qurbaga’s attention.
“Ah, good, you’re finally awake.” His voice carried a satisfied purr, rich with anticipation.
I opened my eyes slowly, deliberately, to find him lifting the blade from the table The flickering torchlight dancing along its edge, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow across his grotesque features.
“Now we can begin again.” Qurbaga’s slimy lips peeled back in a grotesque parody of a smile, revealing rows of needle-sharp teeth glistening with mucus.
He approached with deliberate slowness, as if savoring the moment. I watched with detached, almost clinical interest as he positioned the blade against my bicep and slowly, almost lovingly, sank it through scale and flesh, the metal parting my flesh. There was no pain—or rather, the pain existed somewhere distant and irrelevant. A sensation my mind simply refused to acknowledge. My consciousness had retreated to a place beyond the physical, consumed entirely by the exquisite, all-encompassing pleasure of imagining in vivid, glorious detail how I would tear him limb from limb. I could already hear his screams of agony echoing through the halls as I took my vengeance for my females, could feel the satisfaction of his blood dripping from my claws as I pulled him apart piece by piece.
Soon. Very soon.
Chapter 17
Jolie
We slipped up the narrow ramp into the dimly lit storage compartment, the hum of the ship’s engines muffling our footsteps. The air was thick and stale, heavy with the pungent aroma of provisions. We sheltered behind a stack of weathered crates filled with bulbous, potato-like vegetables with mottled orange skin that looked like they’d been left to rot in someone’s cellar. They smelled like farts mixed with compost. My stomach churned at the fare, bile rising in my throat, but Qurbaga’s crew devoured it with relish.
From outside the compartment, I could hear the raucous laughter of the guards as they watched the Peecha’s performance, completely oblivious to our presence. I knew there would be hundreds more guards scattered throughout the massive vessel. Our only hope of reaching Diarvet was to remain completely hidden.
I motioned for Tark to stay close behind me. He placed each bare foot carefully on the cold metal flooring, his breath expertly controlled so that even I could barely hear it, moving like a shadow. His dark eyes scanned our surroundings constantly, alert to every shadow and sound.
Next to the storage compartment lay the kitchen. The one place aboard the ship where I hoped I could find a friend.
Holding my breath, I slipped through the doorway. Only the bubbling of a copper pot atop a blue flame broke the silence.Binwee stood on her stool, brow furrowed in concentration as she stirred the pot. The spoon in her hands made soft donging sounds against the sides, a rhythmic metallic melody that echoed in the quiet space.
I took a cautious step, but a loud creak underfoot shattered the silence. Binwee’s head snapped up, her blue eyes locking onto mine first with shock then recognition. The wooden spoon in her hand paused mid-stir, droplets of thick brown stew dripping back into the pot with soft plops.
“Jolie?”
Hot tears sprang to my eyes as overwhelming relief flooded through me at finding her safe and unharmed. I’d spent countless hours worrying about what cruel punishment Qurbaga might have inflicted on her if he’d realized she’d aided our escape, imagining her locked in the dungeons, beaten, or worse.
Binwee leaped from her stool and sprinted across the kitchen with surprising speed for someone so small. I dropped to my knees, bracing for impact. Binwee barreled into me with a forceful hug, her small arms wrapping around my neck.
“I’m so glad to see you,” I murmured, my voice thick as I held her slight frame against me. “I was so afraid you’d get in trouble for helping me escape.”
“Meh,” Binwee huffed dismissively, as though earning Qurbaga’s wrath was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. “He didn’t suspect me for a moment.” Her bright cerulean eyes glanced past me, widening with unmistakable curiosity as she took in Tark standing just inside the doorway. “What are you doing here? Where’s Lilibet?”
“She’s safe,” I assured her, climbing to my feet and brushing dust from my knees. “She’s with my friends, the Peecha.” I motioned Tark closer. “This is Tark, Chieftain of the Peecha. Tark, this is my friend Binwee.”
Tark stepped forward and gave a deep, reverent bow as though he were meeting royalty, his long dark hair falling forward to frame his face.
“Nice to meet you,” Binwee returned with a curt but respectful nod before turning her gaze back to me. “Again... what are you doing here? Qurbaga is out for blood, and I don’t want to think about what twisted plans he’s concocted for when he finds you.”
I took a deep, steadying breath, feeling the weight of our mission settling on my shoulders. “Qurbaga brought a male aboard, didn’t he?”
Binwee’s eyes narrowed slightly, her aged features growing more serious. “A couple of hours ago. Has him locked up tight in the dungeon. I had to send some food down earlier.” Her voice dropped to a concerned whisper. “Why? Do you know him?”
I nodded, a faint smile flickering at the corners of my lips despite the circumstances. “He’s a Zarpazian captain who helped me and Lilibet. His name is Diarvet, and... he’s my mate.”
The look of shock that flashed across Binwee’s features lasted only a heartbeat before being replaced by mischief and genuine happiness. “Well, you’ve certainly been busy,” she said with a grin.
I rolled my eyes at her playful teasing. “We’re here to rescue him, and I desperately need your help to get past the guards.”
Binwee’s sharp eyes darted between me and Tark, her mind clearly calculating possibilities. Her lips pursed in the familiar way it did when working through a complex recipe. “Well….”
