Chapter 2 #2
“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 settle both of 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; I had to 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.
“If I open this cell door, are you going to behave and let me feed you?” she asked, her voice rising to something that was barely more than a whisper.
Fear was still thick in the air, but I wasn’t going to take it personally.
If she was indeed a slave here, everyone was going to be scary to her.
Her whole life was full of uncertainty right now, and she was wounded and starving to boot.
“I’d rather feed you,” I said with a wink and a smile I didn’t feel. I casually shrugged, and that sent a lance of sharp pain through my side, where the bloody stab wound was. When she stared but didn’t move, I nodded. “Yes, I will not harm you. Come, little one, let’s do this, shall we?”
She hesitated a moment longer, but eventually lifted her hand to unlock the cell door with her bio-signature.
She stepped into my cell with her breath stuck in her chest, like she was so scared she’d forgotten to breathe.
Her brown eyes were so big they seemed to drown out the rest of her face, the only thing I could see as she shuffled closer.
“Breathe,” I whispered. “Breathe, little one.”
She glared—actually glared—at me, and my pulse spiked with desire. I liked that, liked that a lot. I’d always loved a female with a spine, one who talked back, and I was pretty sure now there was sass hiding beneath the fear. I smirked, waiting to see what she’d do next.
“I am breathing,” she told me, and she closed the final distance between us with two much bigger, more confident steps.
“Here’s your food,” she added, and she held the tray in front of me, only then realizing that she was going to have to spoon-feed me or unchain me from the wall.
Her expression floundered, her eyes flicking from my bound wrists to the food and back, a growing amount of panic on her face.
Taking pity on her, I said gently, “I am not hungry, little one. Eat the food yourself; you need it more than I do.” She’d need a lot more, blazing stars, she was skinny.
She looked like she’d break like glass if I so much as breathed wrong in her direction.
It was absolutely abhorrent what that Vaher of a captain had done to her.
He was going to be so dead the moment I had the chance.
Any last remaining shred of loyalty had vanished the moment I’d seen her.
No, there was no misplaced nostalgic empathy or loyalty for the pirates on this ship.
Once I got out of here, I was going to lay waste to them all.
Her eyes lifted from the food, which had to be tempting to her, and flicked around the darkened brig.
Ah, clever girl, she was checking for cameras, just like I had earlier.
That was fair; Dimon wouldn’t appreciate it if she ate the food meant for me.
“I haven’t seen any,” I said. “Do you?” She didn’t pretend not to understand what I was talking about, her chin dipping into a quick nod that shifted to a head shake and a hint of embarrassed confusion.
“No, no cameras here. Don’t get any ideas, though…
I am definitely not freeing you!” She retreated back out of the cell, glanced once at the open door, then dropped to her knees and set the tray in her lap.
Digging into the food with the supplied fork, she ate so quickly she forgot to close my cell door, scarfing it down like it was the first decent meal she’d had all day.
“I didn’t ask you to free me,” I said carefully when she’d devoured most of the food.
“Feel better now? When was the last time you had a proper meal?” The urgency, the eagerness to learn more, got the better of me, and I added, “What’s your name, little one?
” It was too much, too fast; I knew that right away.
Her eyes grew big again, and her fear spiked as her pulse increased.
She snatched the injector off the tray, abandoned the empty plate with a clatter, and darted into my cell with surprising swiftness.
I braced myself, but it still hurt when she pressed the auto-syringe to my neck and released whatever drug was in it.
I didn’t kid myself into thinking those were painkillers or meds to aid healing.
No, this had to be a drug designed to keep me from shifting.
Dimon wasn’t taking any chances; he knew what kind of escape artist I was.
She retreated from my cell the moment she’d delivered the drug, her chest heaving as she panted. With a slap of her hand, the door swung shut, locking me back in, with her on the other side of the bars. That felt incredibly wrong, but I’d learned from my mistakes; I wouldn’t push again.
I watched with an ache in my chest I had no name for as she gathered the empty tray and plate, clutching it all to her chest like a shield.
She only glanced back at me once as she began to retreat, her bare feet scuffing across the metal floor.
“Name’s Flack, sweetheart. When you come back, bring a clean bandage, please…
” It would probably fall on deaf ears, but perhaps if I reminded her that I was wounded, she wouldn’t be so scared next time.
As the door slid shut behind her, the rage I’d managed to bank rose to the surface again.
I fought the chains, though I knew it was pointless, a roar rattling from my chest. She’d walked out the door, out of my sight, and now anything could happen to her.
I’d been mildly concerned about my own future, but my worry for her eclipsed it all, and I didn’t even know her name.