Chapter 5
ALETTA
Her rescuer with the stunning purple eyes—Gark, he’d introduced himself as—escorted her straight to the mess after her revelation.
The corridors were lit with recessed lights near the floor, the ceiling disappearing into the dark.
The interior decorating was utilitarian, with dark grey panels lining the walls and a bare-metal floor.
It was clean, though. There was no dust or grime, even though the door panels were worn from many hands touching them over the years.
It was cold as she followed Gark from the med bay through the ship, and Aletta dragged her coat more tightly around herself, wishing she’d thought to wear a scarf.
From the outside, the ship hadn’t appeared that big, but she was soon lost as Gark took one turn, then another, then climbed a short flight of stairs that was so steep it was more like a ladder. The steps were too large for her, and she hauled herself up the first two with a grunt of effort.
“Here, let me help you.” A large, bronzed hand appeared, and she gripped it, letting Gark pull her effortlessly up to the next level.
“You’re cold.”
She looked up to see him frowning as he looked down at her hand still clutched in his, his nostrils flaring and nose wrinkling like he’d smelled something disgusting.
She tugged it from his grip, cheeks heating. “I’m ok.” God, she must reek after everything she’d been through. She clamped her arms to her sides.
He tilted his head, brows knitted above those purple eyes, and frowned. “You will let me get you something warmer to wear.”
She shook her head. “Later.”
He hesitated, then nodded once before turning to stride down the corridor. He paused in front of a door with a ding in it that kept it from closing properly, light streaming from the room into the corridor.
He swiped his hand over the panel to one side, and the door slid back to reveal what had to be the mess.
It was a small, rectangular room barely bigger than the tiny med bay. On the wall opposite the door was a long bench, below which were cupboards and what Aletta assumed were cooking gadgets.
Gark stepped into the room. Aletta stayed behind him. She didn’t know any of these people, but Gark at least had saved her more than once. He had listened to her when she’d pointed out the tattoo.
She gripped the back of his shirt in one hand, peering around his back. He stiffened at her touch, then relaxed.
“Boss.” A tall blond with hair shaved at the sides and pulled back in a ponytail smiled and offered his hand. “Hello there, pretty lady.”
Gark smacked it away with a growl. “Vox, none of that.” Hands that had clenched into fists flexed as he visibly forced himself to relax. “She’s under my protection.”
Aletta flushed, not knowing what to make of the possessive declaration, or the fact she…liked it?
Vox’s grin only grew as he looked from her to his boss. He handed her a steaming cup, which she took hesitantly. She sniffed it.
“This is coffee.”
“Yes. It’s a crew favorite.”
She sighed in pleasure as she took a sip. She’d never tasted anything as good in her life.
Gark ushered Aletta into the room. A tall fridge with a clear door stood against one wall, the door held open by a solid guy with mid-brown skin.
“Who drank my gnavsta juice?” He grumbled.
On either side of the room were booths like the ones in a diner back home, but oversized to fit their huge frames. The one with the tattoo was sitting in one, slurping noodles from a bowl the size of a bucket.
Aletta froze, her hand loosening on the mug, but before she could drop it, Gark captured her hands in his. He moved to block her view of the booth and ducked his head.
She was so close to him that she was staring at his chest. She tilted her head back to meet his eyes.
“Stay here and listen.”
She bristled at the command, but swallowed her retort. She was so out of her depth it may as well be the middle of the ocean—or the universe. She snorted.
Gark was waiting for a response, so she nodded. “All right.”
He nodded, guiding her to the empty booth on the opposite side of the room from where A’Kar was sitting, and gestured for Vox to join her.
She tucked her legs up underneath her, curling into a ball in the far corner of the booth, and cradled her coffee in her hands. Vox sprawled out opposite her, arms spread over the back of the seat. He watched her with a smirk, though his eyes seemed serious.
The only sound was the quiet hum of the refrigerator and the slurping as A’Kar ate his noodles. The guy at the fridge moved quietly to stand by the door, leaning up against the wall, as Gark turned to slide into the seat across from A’Kar.
A’Kar must have realized something was up, because he stiffened with his fork halfway from the bowl to his mouth. He lowered it slowly. “What’s this about?”
Aletta clutched her coffee and sank into the seat. She blew into the mug, letting the steam waft up around her face to warm her cheeks, as she watched Gark.
“Tell me about the tattoo,” Gark said, ignoring the question.
“Why?”
Gark braced his hands on the edge of the table.
The tension in the room was thick. Nobody spoke.
Vox was no longer smiling; instead, he was watching A’Kar intently.
So was the wall of muscle blocking the door.
The sunglasses he wore and the pose with his arms crossed over his chest added to the look of a nightclub bouncer who was over drunken antics.
A’Kar turned in his seat, looking at all their faces. His eyes lingered on Aletta briefly before darting back to Gark.
“It’s just something I got when I was young.” He crossed his arms over his chest and settled back in the booth.
“Funny, it looks pretty new to me,” Vox said over the top of his cup. “Strange how you’ve been wearing sleeved shirts ever since the last time we docked at Irith’s Moons.”
A’Kar pressed his lips into a thin line, his bowl of noodles forgotten.
Gark didn’t smile. “Taureans don’t decorate their bodies on a whim.”
Aletta’s eyes trailed over the markings on Gark’s neck that peppered one side of his face. So they weren’t tattoos then?
A’Kar’s face morphed into a fierce scowl. “What would you know? You’re not Taurean.”
Gark stiffened, but didn’t respond.
Not Taurean?
Aletta frowned. Something to ask about later, he certainly looked like the others.
“I’ve seen that symbol on some dead purists,” Arik said. “Very dead.”
What kind of mess had she ended up in? Some kind of intergalactic political intrigue? She just wanted to find Dylan. And this fucker knew something.
A’Kar paled slightly, a sheen of sweat making his skin look glossy under the lights, but he lifted his chin and faced Gark squarely. “What do you want?”
“The truth.”
That was more like it. Aletta nodded, lips pressed into a thin line.
“The truth?” He scoffed. “The truth is, Taurean blood shouldn’t be tainted.
” It was like a switch had been flicked, A’Kar suddenly leaning forward, hands pressed flat against the table as he glared at Gark.
“The Alliance will ensure that those like you never exist again.” A’Kar looked at Gark like he was a cockroach, and not one of the ten-foot-tall monstrous types.
“Your whore of a mother should have been put down after polluting her lineage.” Aletta gasped at the vile words spewing from his mouth.
But A’Kar wasn’t done. “And with a Gnaggarian? Not even one of the Elite, but a lowly unranked!” A’Kar spat on the table between them.
“The Alliance will make things right again.”
The venom in A’Kar’s words made Aletta’s stomach twist. He sounded like a fanatic. Crazed. Unhinged.
Deadly.
Gark tilted his head to one side as if considering A’Kar’s words.
A’Kar’s glare landed on Aletta. “And you? Humans are weak; only good for one thing. I can see why you brought her on the ship.” He smirked. “Who’s going to use her first?”
Oh dear god.
Gark wasn’t looking at her, and Vox wouldn’t meet her eyes.
No. This wasn’t happening. She hadn’t been saved from one hell only to be thrown into another.
Gark growled, the low sound making Aletta sit bolt upright in her seat.
“Watch your mouth.”
A’Kar stood from his seat with a menacing smirk, but managed to get only a step toward her before Gark, Vox, and Arik were suddenly blocking his way.
How had they moved so fast?
He looked between the three. “All of you at once? I’ve seen that done. The bitch loved—"
Gark punched him in the mouth, A’Kar’s head snapping back with the force of the blow. “I said, watch your mouth!”
Seeing A’Kar get what he deserved had her cheering on the inside. The tight knot in Aletta’s chest loosened a little at Gark’s defense of her.
But she still hadn’t learned anything about Dylan.
Screw this asshole. She was done sitting back. She slid out of the booth and peered around the wall of muscle that was Gark. “Where’s my sister?”
“Who?” A’Kar raised a hand to his mouth, pulling it away to look at the blood on his fingers. “What’s one amongst thousands?” He shrugged.
Aletta curled her fingers into fists, nails biting into her palms.
“Thousands. You kidnapped thousands of women.”
A’Kar lifted a brow. “So what? They’re not Taurean.”
Aletta pushed against Gark’s arm, trying to get around him as she snarled at A’Kar, but he held her back. “They’re people! They matter. You can’t just kidnap women.”
A’Kar snorted and smirked.
Something in Aletta snapped at his indifference. “You fucker! If they mean nothing to you, then why take them? Give them back!”
Gark broke his silence. “The Alliance is selling them.”