Chapter 12
GARK
Gark stood, Aletta curled in his arms and had to fight back a wave of anger.
She was covered in blood, her top torn completely from her body.
She’d been huddled on the floor, initially unresponsive when he’d called her name, but finally she’d lifted her head, her eyes empty of emotion as they met his.
He'd hoped he wasn’t too late, and that she hadn’t been hurt. He hadn’t been there when she needed him. What kind of mate was he that she was abducted and…
What had they done to her?
“Help me, brother.”
Gark turned, his arms tightening around Aletta reflexively, to see a Taurean with a hand held to his abdomen.
Blood spilled from between his fingers with every breath he took.
Gark looked from where he’d found Aletta and the bloody knife, then back to the wounded figure on the floor.
It wasn’t difficult to work out what had happened.
“Why should I help you?”
“The whore stabbed me!” He gasped, more blood running from between fingers that held tight to his wound.
Gark’s eyes narrowed, teeth clenched. “My mate stabbed you for no reason?”
Oh sure. Aletta was fierce, but murderous? No. Not unless she had a very good reason would she do something like stab someone. He knew this without a doubt, like he knew this fucker—he’d picked up some language from his human guest—deserved it.
The Taurean’s eyes widened, and he pushed himself backward as if realizing his error. “I didn’t know she was a warrior’s mate.”
“But it shouldn’t matter, hmm?” Gark took a step closer, matching the pace at which the Lady-cursed bastard who had touched Aletta slithered backward.
A trail of blood covered the floor, but Gark couldn’t bring himself to care.
“Why should her status in relation to a lowly Gnaggarian increase her worth?”
This piece of Lady-damned scum had decided Aletta was his to do with as he pleased. Gark shook his head as he watched him slide back until his back hit a crate. He sagged, breathing in gasps. Blood foamed at his mouth, and his eyes glazed over.
This one deserved to die. But Gark wasn’t a murderer. He couldn’t kill him in cold blood, as much as he wanted to. So he called back to Vox, who, along with Jarden, was cuffing the rest of the crew, including A’Kar.
Vox finished fastening the cuffs and walked to where Gark was staring down at the Taurean lying in a pool of blood.
“Another one?” Vox asked, squatting down next to the prone form.
“He attacked Aletta.” Gark’s voice was barely more than a growl. He had to get a grip on himself. He’d seen far worse than this and hadn’t been so deeply affected.
“He’s not attacking anyone now.” Vox stood. “He’s dead.”
“Good.” Gark spat on the body, refusing to feel any guilt.
“Aletta?” She didn’t respond, eyes glazed over like she was a very long way away, and Gark’s chest tightened. He had to get her back to The Lady, where he could take her to see Klath, if he was well enough to see a patient.
He wanted to keep her safe, and he’d failed.
Aletta’s head moved on his shoulder, her arms looping around his neck. Gark ignored the warm feeling that flowed through his chest at the trust she showed him.
Jarden approached. “They’re all secured,” he said, gesturing to the tied-up crew who were spitting profanities.
Gark nodded. “Good. Can you fly this…ship?” It was worse than most of the tin-can drop ships he’d been on in his career, barely more than a flying container and definitely not rated for entry to a planet’s atmosphere.
Jarden snorted. “In my sleep.”
“Let’s head back to Irith’s Moons.”
He didn’t have enough room in the brig for this many, so they’d agreed that Jarden would pilot the ship for the few hours back to the station, where they would hand over their captives to station security, under the command of Oren Ka’Ress.
Gark left Jarden and Vox to secure the prisoners and carried Aletta back through the docking tunnel to The Lady.
Home.
He carried Aletta to the med bay, placing her gently on the edge of the bed. He settled his hands on either side of her hips, reluctant to let her go. Her brown eyes settled on him.
She looked so small, huddled in the blanket he draped around her shoulders, her hair in tangles around her face.
“You came.”
“I’ll always come for you.”
Her eyes widened, her pupils dilating. Their faces were so close together he could feel the soft puff of her breath on his face. He brushed a stray lock of hair from her face and pressed his lips to her forehead.
Her scent wrapped around him like a siren’s call.
Mine.
He wanted to shout it to the universe.
“Thank you,” she said. She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his waist. He cradled her gently against his chest, humming softly as she slowly relaxed against him.
She pulled back, her hand no longer clutching the blanket closed, and the fabric gaped open. She took a sharp breath in, and the blanket slithered from her shoulders to reveal her full breasts. Breasts that were painted with the blood of her attacker.
He stepped back, putting distance between them, and tugged his shirt off.
“Here,” he said, helping her into it, being careful of her damaged wrist. It was huge on her, hanging down to her knees and sliding off one delicate shoulder.
Something possessive roared into life inside him at the knowledge she was now wearing his scent.
Sure, she’d been wearing his borrowed clothes, but they’d all been washed and were clean. This was different.
She brushed her hair out of her face with her good hand, then buried her nose into the fabric.
Aletta sniffed his shirt and he shifted, flushing.
Scent didn’t matter to humans the way it did to Gnaggarians, he reminded himself.
Would he ever be back in control of himself?
Gark growled, startling himself into a cough in an attempt to cover the noise.
“Gark?” She looked up at him with a startled expression, but the door slid open, Klath limping into the med bay, and whatever words she was going to say were lost. Gark bit back a frustrated growl.
“Are you all right?” She asked the medic, who smiled grimly.
“I should be asking you that question,” he said. “May I?” Klath gestured toward her wrist, and she nodded.
Gark stepped back from the bed reluctantly, forcing himself into the corner out of the medic’s way, even though he wanted to tear Klath apart when he reached for Aletta’s wrist.
He growled again, this time not bothering to hide it. She looked up from her wrist, which Klath was scanning with the medi-scanner, but he looked away.
The medic didn’t even bother acknowledging his bad manners.
Gark watched as Klath scanned Aletta’s wrist, confirming the break was minor, and then ran the medi-wand over it to heal it as well as he could.
It was Gark’s fault she was hurt. If he hadn’t left her, she wouldn’t have been abducted.
She wouldn’t be hurt. She wouldn’t be traumatized by being attacked—
“Boss?”
He looked up at Klath, who was holding a packet out to him.
“These will help her with sleep, but only if needed.” Kath frowned. “It’s better not to use them unless it’s really necessary.”
Gark nodded, taking the packet.
“You know, I do have a hand that works.”
“Yes, but he wants to help. It’s what a ma—”
“Thank you, Klath.”
Gark slid the packet into the pocket of his pants and approached the bed to stand close enough that her knees brushed his leg. It was a long way up for a small human, he told himself, as he reached for her, to help her off the bed, knowing it was just an excuse to touch her again.
She stiffened, holding her wrist close to her chest. He paused, frowning, hands on her hips. His fingers flexed, involuntarily, against her soft flesh.
“Is everything all right?”
She snorted, cheeks pink. “Sure. I’m fine.” Her voice squeaked a little, and she coughed. “Isn’t it cool that the cast only needs to be on for a few days? I think that’s really cool. It takes weeks and weeks on Earth for a break to heal, and surgery sometimes.” Her cheeks turned even pinker.
His frown deepened. “You are nervous.”
She nodded and then shook her head. “Nothing. It’s nothing. Um, help me down.”
He complied, lifting her from the bed and reluctantly releasing his grip on her when her feet met the floor, but she held onto his forearm like she never wanted to let him go.
I have you, fierce one.
Neither spoke on the short walk to his quarters, though Gark was aware of the heat of her body at his side, the tightening of her fingers against his as they made their way toward the crew quarters, and past where A’Kar had grabbed her.
“Are you all right?” He asked, then immediately wanted to smack himself. Her whole life had been turned upside down, her only family torn from her, and then she’d been kidnapped, assaulted, and injured.
Of course she wasn’t all right.
He swiped his wrist over the door panel, gesturing for her to enter the cabin before him. She hesitated, her eyes holding his for a long moment before she stepped over the threshold.
“I’m sorry,” he said, standing in the doorway. The words felt inadequate.
“What for?” She turned to face him, kicking off her sneakers and sighing as she wiggled her toes.
“I should have done more to protect you. You shouldn’t have had to go through…that.” He shook his head, anguished. “I’m so sorry.”
She took a step toward him and reached for his hand. He hadn’t realized he’d curled his fingers into fists until she gently pried them open.
“Don’t do that.”
He frowned. “Do what?”
“Should all over yourself.” He must have looked very confused because she gave a small smile and explained. “You know, when you think you should have done this or that. Sure, maybe, but what’s done is done. You can’t change the past. Why torture yourself over something you can’t change?”
He blinked. “But it’s my fault—”
She raised on her tiptoes and pressed a finger against his lips.
“Shut up, Gark. You like to take the world on your shoulders, but this is not your fault. The Xakuls? Yes. A’Kar’s?
Yes. The Alliance, or whatever they want to call themselves?
Yes.” She settled back on her heels and pulled her hand away.
“But it’s not your fault any more than it’s mine. ”
Something loosened in Gark’s chest at her words, and his shoulders lowered.
“You don’t blame me?”
She shook her head. “No. Of course not.”
He was still standing in the doorway and cleared his throat awkwardly. He should leave her to clean up and rest. He took a step back into the hallway.
“Goodnight, Aletta.”
She grabbed his hand. “Please stay. I don’t want to be alone.”
“Are you sure? After what you’ve been through, I didn’t—”
“Gark.” She tugged him into the room and swiped the panel to shut the door behind him. “I just killed someone who tried to rape me. I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts right now.”
If her attacker hadn’t already been dead, Gark would have dismembered him.
Aletta looked to one side, her eyes unfocused. Her breath hitched, and her bottom lip wobbled. A tear slid down her cheek, and she swiped at it with the back of her hand. “There’s more, Gark. There was a woman—”
He couldn’t stand seeing her in pain. “You don’t have to talk about it—”
“Yes, I do.” She scowled up at him. “In the bar that A’Kar took me to, there was a woman. A human woman. We have to do something. We can’t just ignore what’s happening.”
She was right. Gark pressed his lips together and nodded, even as his heart leaped at the use of the word we.
“What do you think we should do?”
She took a deep breath and straightened, lifting her chin. “We need to go back to the Irith’s Moons and get her out. That’s a start.”
Gark nodded, pleased to see more of the determined and fierce side of his mate.
She looked down at herself with a grimace. “Oh gross. I need to shower,” she said. “Will you be here when I finish?”
He nodded. “Of course.”
While Aletta closed herself in the bathroom, Gark busied himself with picking up clothes she’d discarded on the floor. The cabin was a mess. Clothes strewn over chairs, an abandoned towel on the floor, something she’d been reading tossed haphazardly on the messed covers of the bed.
He hadn’t been in here since she had been taken. He didn’t want to see the evidence of when he couldn’t keep her safe. Now he never wanted to let her out of his sight.
She emerged from the bathroom, hair wrapped in a towel and wearing another one of his shirts. It was so big it hung to her knees, swallowing her in the fabric. She looked so small and vulnerable.
“Aletta…” he cleared his throat, looking away. It was too raw, this pull he had that drew him to her. Too primal.
Is this what drove his father to court his mother? The sense that there was only one person in the whole universe for him, and he’d found her? Because that’s what he felt for Aletta.
Her small hand covered his, and he jerked from his thoughts. She held his hand in both of hers, the splint on her wrist a reminder of the hurts she’d suffered.
“Will you stay with me?” She looked toward the bed, her cheeks turning pink. “Just until I go to sleep. Nothing else.”
“Always.” He looked down at his blood-streaked clothes. “Though I should clean up.”
He had a shower that was so quick he may have broken a record, dressed in loose sweats, and climbed onto the bed next to where Aletta had burrowed herself under the covers.
He lay back on top of the covers and laced his fingers, hands over his stomach.
Aletta turned onto her side and slid an arm over his chest, letting out a small sigh and relaxing against him. He tensed, not sure what to do, and stared, unblinking, at the ceiling.
“Relax, Gark. I’m not going to break.”
He turned his head on the pillow. She was looking at him with a raised eyebrow and smirk.
“Just hold me, please.” She closed her eyes.
He gathered her close, watching as her eyes closed and she drifted into sleep. He brushed a hand over her hair, stroking the soft strands and wishing he could hold her like this forever.
But forever was a long time, and tomorrow was closer. Tomorrow they’d arrive back at Irith’s Moons and hand over their captives to Oren. And then they’d free the woman Aletta had seen.
Maybe, if luck were on their side, she’d know something about Dylan’s whereabouts.