Fuck no, I wasn’t getting into that cell at all. I tended to take whatever the captain said with a grain of salt, but this time I believed him. This guy had to be a monster; maybe all those stories I’d been told were true after all. Who flirted in a situation like this? Who flirted with someone who looked likeme?
Chapter 2
Flack
Dimon had thrown me in a cell on theViduand would have thrown away the key, except he needed me alive. I relished the thought that the bastard needed me for something and couldn’t just do what he’d sworn five years ago, when we’d parted ways: kill me. Not only had he been forced to treat my wounds, but he’d dragged me back to theVidu. Whatever it was he needed me for, it meant I had leverage, lots of it.
Xathena had messed me up really badly, though, and I’d been out for the count when she did it, mostly. I only vaguely recalled getting stabbed when they dragged me onto the ship. My head still spun, throbbing painfully at the base of my skull where I’d been struck. The knife wound in my side was worse, though. That one had been a bleeder, and the hastily slapped-on bandage had barely stemmed the tide.
I hissed, but masked my frustration just in case there was a camera aimed my way. I didn’t think so, but until I was clearheaded enough to make sure, I wasn’t taking any chances. There was definitely no way I’d let Dimon and his crew see how much pain I was in. One thing was certain: I was going to be here a while, because until that stab wound healed, I wasn’t going to be fighting a whole lot.
My hands flexed inside the crude shackles, picturing my fists closing around Dimon’s thick neck. They were going to pay for this, the indignity of being chained like a beast... I was nevergoing to forget it, and no amount of money or promises was getting Dimon off the hook for this.
When theVarakartoomcaught up to them… Except they wouldn’t, because I was pretty sure the upper portion of my armor had been left in that copse of trees on Rakex—the piece of armor with my tracker in it. That was either a stroke of bad luck, or Dimon had known about it and done it on purpose. Either way, it meant I had to get out of this predicament on my own.
I assessed the situation as my senses slowly sharpened. The brig was much the same as I remembered, perhaps a bit more rusted, a bit dirtier. Three cells in a row that, as far as I could remember, were rarely used. The pirate crew didn’t tend to take prisoners or care about things like discipline. Case in point, the other two cells had been used for storage. They were stacked haphazardly with crates, overflowing because they’d probably crammed what had been in my current home into the other two.
My eyes scanned those boxes quickly, picking out clues as to their contents in rapid succession. Nothing great, medical supplies they were probably going to offload on the black market somewhere. Injections of fertility drugs or a batch of vaccines against a Kertinal-specific kind of rash weren’t going to help me escape. My mind happily supplied me with a dozen buyers who’d be happy to take them off my hands for a tidy sum, though. Also not helpful in my current situation.
Focusing on what was in the cell with me, I assessed the pants and boots I still wore. They should have stripped the armor from me, but all they’d done was take the weapons. They hadn’t taken anything else, which meant it was probably Sil or Vaka who’ddone the search, if they still lived. Lazy bastards, but that worked in my favor.
Too bad my hands were shackled, or I could probably use the emergency injector I carried in a hidden pocket. Dravion’s special blend would perk me up, healing me far faster than Dimon would expect. Unlike many other races out there, Sune didn’t heal particularly fast. I was lucky I had no broken bones, but that damn knife wound was going to prevent me from shifting for some time. Once I could… I’d easily be able to alter my shape and slip these shackles.
The throbbing lump on the back of my skull alone was enough to prevent a change, but I tried anyway. I forced my mind to focus, my body bucking as pain wracked my nerves. Changing while wounded was never easy; changing with a concussion? Damn near impossible. Maybe fur sprouted along my bare chest for a brief moment, but that, and a pounding headache, were all I achieved.
Panting, I waited for the black spots dancing in front of my eyes to disappear, cursing when that took much longer than I had the patience for. What next? I had the injector but couldn’t reach it, which meant outside help. Who on the ship would I be able to charm into being my ally? I ran down the list, but I was pretty sure they were all immensely pissed at me. Not Dimon, not Xathena, definitely not Sil or Vaka. Though both did technically owe me a ton of money from some Keflo games. I doubted forgiving their debt would convince them to help me in anyway. They’d figure they didn’t need to pay up when I was their prisoner.
That left the chef, if he was still around, but limping, Trixom wasn’t inclined to let himself get charmed. Others, I was even less sure about, but perhaps there were new faces; it happened. The pirate life wasn’t exactly conducive to longevity or staying free. Some of the guys, or gals, I’d known from theViduhad ended up in prison. Arguably the only way to get out of the life while still breathing.
That’s why Dimon and Xathena were so pissed: I’d left without a prison sentence, and I was still breathing. Of course, the small fact that I’d left with a fortune—their fortune—probably also had something to do with it. I smirked as I remembered it: a nice, tidy pile of credits sitting in accounts they’d never be able to touch.
How long had I been out? The ship hummed beneath my feet, the engine running at a frequency as familiar as breathing. How many nights had I fallen asleep to this sound? I’d spent several years on this hunk of metal, trying to overlook its flaws, ignoring the way unease filled me over certain choices the captain made. Did I have a problem with amoral things? Certainly not, but I drew the line somewhere, like slavery, like harming children, females. Fair was fair; I’d absolutely make Xathena pay for stabbing me, though.
My wound was fresh, too fresh for shifting to be successful, but that also meant I hadn’t been here long. Long enough for the light buzz from the party and the hunt with Kitan and his pack to wear off, but not long enough to be missed yet. Would theVarakartoomrealize theViduhad taken me? I’d bet good credits Mitnick would figure that out, but would it be in time to track the ship? I doubted that. TheVidumight be a bit of a mess, but it was very good at covering its tracks.
The biggest question was whether this had been random chance or if Dimon had come after me on purpose. If he was keeping me alive, that meant he needed me for something, and I had a pretty good idea what that entailed. I needed answers, which meant talking to someone, but the brig was suspiciously empty. Perhaps Dimon was keeping the crew away on purpose. Smart, because given enough time, I could probably win one of them over, no matter how bad their grudge.
The entrance sliding open couldn’t have been better timed. My body tingled with excitement at the prospect of a little action. Raising my eyes, I locked them on a small, round, pale face smudged with dirt, and shock thundered through me. A female, a human female. The response was instinctive: a smile, a slow unfurling of heat. A new face, afemalenew face. This was perfect.
Flirting was second nature, and before I’d even considered whether she was my type, I’d started the assault. Shewas, though, she was human, and she was absolutely petite. Her eyes were huge in her face, big pools of silky brown I could drown in. She’d become rooted to the spot, staring at me like an Illeayan Deer caught in the gaze of a predator.
The food on the tray she carried was meant for me, as was, I suspected, the injector that lay next to it. I tried to urge her closer by drawing her attention to them, but she still did not move. Her heart was pounding furiously; I could see it pulse at the base of her neck. Her breathing was shallow, and that drew my eyes to peruse the rest of her, not just take in the cues related to her mood. Fear, which was obvious.
She was skinny beneath a pale white dress, smudged gray at the hem. Her feet were bare and small, dirty, with little scabs and wounds. It was always too warm on theVidubecause the cooling system for the engines didn’t vent right. She’d dressed for that, her clothing thin and, while covering the basics, not hiding her shape. That was a risk, given that she was such a sweet, tiny little thing. The crew would be all over her…My stomach roiled at the thought, fists growing tight around the chains holding me, claws lengthening.
I was going to kill the bastards who had touched her, all of them. The vehemence of that impulse almost shocked some sense into me, almost. The fury was stronger, riding me in a wild wave that made me struggle briefly against the chains. Until she stepped back with a gasp and the scent of her fear curled, bitter and acrid, through the air.
“No! No, wait,” I told her. I pleaded with her, really, which would be embarrassing if there were any witnesses. I hadn’t meant to scare her, but even knowing I had, the fury wasn’t going down. “I’ll be a good boy, I swear,” I drawled, hoping the flirty comment would settlebothof us. She took another step back, but she didn’t leave.
I breathed deeply and forced my hands to relax around the chains. If I could just figure out what made her tick, I’d make this work. My eyes flicked to her face, reading all the finer cues that trembled in her features: her breathing, the wideness of her eyes, the way her pupils had dilated in the dark. The dirt smudged across one cheek, thick and… No, that wasn’t dirt. It was a scar, a wound, only partially healed. My eyes sharpened then, shifting from cataloging what I needed to survive to appraising what was really going on with her.
She wasn’t some new crew member; she had to be a slave. Her thin appearance was taking on a much grimmer cast. Was that how things were now? Xathena got her way? A household slave to clean the ship, service the crew? My stomach turned, soured, and I fought to keep from uselessly struggling against the chains again. I needed her to come closer; Ihadto see her better, and for that I needed her to trust me.
Her first words shocked me, though, her voice surprisingly low and husky for such a small female. “Good boy? I seriously doubt that…” She’d muttered it under her breath, almost as if she didn’t really mean for me to hear it. It made me chuckle, and the rage shifted to something more manageable. Pressed to the back, waiting, not forgotten, but for the moment put on hold. It was her sense of humor, bright and beautiful in such darkness.
“No,” I said, “I suppose you’ve got me there, sweetheart. I swear I’ll be on my best behavior, though. You can come closer.” I curled my fingers in a come-hither motion, holding my breath as I waited to see what she’d do. Like a skittish animal, she slowly approached, the tray held in front of her like she wanted to use it as a shield.
When she got nearer, I heard the faint gurgle of her stomach. She seemed oblivious to the sound, perhaps so used to going hungry it didn’t warrant paying attention to. The food on the tray was the same as Trixom always made, hearty, decent enough if nothing special. It didn’t hold any appeal for me, not after I’d gorged on the prey we’d hunted last night.
