Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
A white blur and a shadow preceded a hard smack to the ground.
Illan’s mind reeled, unable to explain the pain burning along his shoulder and crushing his chest. Four luminescent pink eyes glaring at him didn’t help.
Its serrated teeth were exposed, its breath hot and fish-tainted.
Four ears twitched, but it did nothing but pin him, its weight crushing him.
Time slowed. He couldn’t breathe. Not that he dared to.
Every instinct warned him that this creature wanted an excuse to strike.
Two tails flicked in his peripherals. His hands were trapped to his body.
His wrists throbbed at their unnatural angle.
Reaching for a blaster wasn’t possible, nor could he comm the Celeeri for aid.
He was at this creature’s mercy. So close to its muzzle, he perceived intelligence in the depths of its narrowed eyes.
Ziamee limped nearer, her footfall louder as she approached.
“Stay back,” he whispered, keeping his tone calm and friendly. When she didn’t listen to him but dropped beside him, her beautiful face coming into focus, he growled, “What did I say?”
“Don’t hurt him,” she said, destroying any thoughts Illan had formed.
“What?” he managed.
“He’s just being protective, aren’t you, ohara?” She nuzzled then nudged the beast. She threw her arm around its neck and asked, “Have you found Padya?”
Illan accepted he’d gone insane. That somehow, he’d dreamed Ziamee, Vora, Oz, and this…white, fur monstrosity into existence.
“Now, come. Get off the male.” She clambered to her feet and strode toward the downed ship. When it didn’t follow her, she paused and tapped her thigh.
With a rumble that resonated through to Illan’s bones, it climbed off him and scampered on its six paws to reach her.
“You’re such a good Seba,” she crooned, leaving Illan staring after their disappearing backs.
Able to breathe, he sucked in gulps of air sweeter than it had been moments ago. Groaning, he pushed himself into a sitting position while rubbing the lump at the back of his head.
“That is Seba?” He dug into his pocket for the med-gun, then ran it over his head and torso, certain a rib had been cracked.
“Are you coming?” she asked from where she peered above a boulder, only her top half visible. “I promised Seba a ceaza. Do you want?”
He staggered to his feet, tempted to submit himself for a full med-E.D. scan. Parts of him, including his torso, twinged and throbbed, souring his mood.
“What I want is for you to realize I mean you no harm, female,” he gritted out.
She studied him, dragging her gaze up and down his body before saying, “Run your thingy over Seba, and I’ll…
visit your spaceship.” She climbed a few steps closer, revealing her upper body, then cast a glance behind her.
“And if you have another of those daggers…” She grinned, stilling the air in his lungs. “I could steal yours if you prefer.”
She was bargaining. That thought struck first. He could work with that.
“I would need to teach you how to wield the dagger.” He dusted off his pants and strode toward her.
Her brow crinkled in confusion. “Why? I’m most proficient—”
“Maloidian steel slices through bone. With the proper footwear, you will not cut yourself when you sheath the blade.” He patted her thigh. “We will have the med-E.D. heal your leg, too. And perhaps new garments?” He curled his fingers into fists, too tempted to caress her exposed belly.
She scratched her wrist where red welts had formed. “As much as I like the sound of all that, you have to heal Seba first. And he comes with me.”
Illan gaped, having not anticipated that request when, statistically, the probables had been high. “In the tight confines of a spaceship, your pet might—”
“Then there’s no more talk of kidnapping me.” She strolled off.
“Then I will not heal your Seba.” Illan smoothed his features to hide a grimace. He wasn’t a male who’d ignore a creature in pain.
She laughed, patting her chest in applause.
He blinked, a sharp spike of agony cinching his chest anew. Memories surfaced of his father doing that when Illan had excelled in something. His beloved face was vivid, clearer than Illan had been able to recall before. He swallowed past a sorrow-filled lump, fighting to hold onto the image.
“Seba will believe I’ve abandoned him. Without Padya to keep him company, there’s no alternative.” She met Illan’s gaze. “He’s partial to rubs beneath his jaw next time he pounces on you.”
Illan frowned. When he couldn’t free his hands? And cuddling the beast instead of shoving it off him wouldn’t be his initial reaction.
When it roared, she glared at it. “Will you calm yourself, please. You can’t be that hungry.”
She was alone. That realization hit Illan hard. He struggled with the urge to guard her during his time on the planet, stay with her, or whisk her away to Etteria.
He hurried after her, down the narrow path to the campsite. “We have fish on board the ship. It can have as much as it wants.”
His stride faltered at the sheer size of the creature. Even sprawled, where she knelt beside it, her temple reached its shoulder.
“Did you hear that, ohara?” she cooed.
Illan scowled at her calling it sweetheart. When he drew near, its four ears twitched, and the hair along its spine bristled.
“Here.” He handed the med-gun to her. “Press this button and run it over its wounds.”
“Seba’s a he,” she mumbled, studying the med-gun. While crooning to the creature, she moved from limb to limb whenever the device pulsed a light. “This is incredible,” she said, her tone filled with awe while she waved the med-gun over her wrists.
“Keep it,” he said, the blue depths of her mouth disrupting his focus.
She gasped and clutched the med-gun to her chest. “That you would give such a gift…” She straightened. “Seba’s healed. A good turn is not repaid with deception. That’s the Durn way. Your people said they’d retrieve your ship. Call them. Have them collect us.”
“It is not needed.” He activated his O.D.I., using it to hide his expression. Her trust was…indescribable. Not to mention the relief that poured through him. “Ulta, three to port, and do not be alarmed.” He touched her shoulder and buried his fingers in Seba’s fur at his neck.
“What do you mean—” Ulta blinked, having swiveled in his seat to face them as they phased in.
“He is friendly…for the most part,” Illan said, his gaze fixed on a gawking Ziamee.
“How?” She gasped.
“Teleportation,” he mumbled, cupping her elbow and keeping her close. “Summon Brac. Seba likes fish if he wants to charm the beast. Warn the ship.”
“Greetings, strange species,” she said, her wide eyes absorbing everything. “Illan, he’s bronze,” she leaned in to whisper.
Illan smiled. “He is Etterian, and they have excellent hearing.”
She scoffed, sparking his chuckle. “I’m speaking Durn.”
“Welcome to the Celeeri, milady,” Ulta said in accented Durn.
“Elorach,” she muttered, her cheeks darkening. “You could’ve warned me.”
Illan arched a brow. “When I was lucky to get you onto my ship?”
She grinned. “True. How do you know our language?” she asked Ulta.
He waved his forearm. “I have activated the language protocol for Durn.”
She gaped. “I didn’t know that was possible.”
A distant growl made him realize Seba had wandered off. She bolted, the loss of her warmth noted before he rushed after her, half expecting to find another male trapped beneath the beast’s weight.
He stumbled to a halt. In the common, sprawled beside the trestle table, was Seba. Between his giant paws was a gigantic haunch of meat. Brac ran his O.D.I. over the pet, his fascination in his frantic fingers tapping the holographic letters.
“He is beautiful,” he said to Illan.
“His name’s Seba,” she said, spinning on the spot as she assessed the space.
“May we leave it with you, Brac?” Illan caught her elbow and ushered her to the officer quarters leading off the common—only the best for a Durn.
“It’s smaller than expected,” she said, peering into his bedroom, then the cleanser.
He ignored her, heading to the replicator. “Come, let us order your garments.” He sifted through the options, casting glances at her to calculate her measurements.
When the first item formed, she cried out, lunged back, then leaned around him to poke it.
“A tunic,” he said, nudging it off the glass surface. Pants appeared next—a smaller version of Etterian armor. She’d appreciate the pockets and their durability. “Pants,” he said.
After thunking down the med-gun he’d given her, she took the pants and flicked them out, only to hold them against her body.
Boots were next. He used his foot beside hers to gauge her size.
Metal strips were embedded in the leather to protect the wearer from the dagger’s blade.
Replicator-created Maloidian steel was weaker than the real product, but it would suffice.
She blinked at the pair sitting on the replicator. “For me?” she asked, her fingers twitching as if to reach out, but she held herself back.
“Yes.” An unexpected warmth bloomed in his chest, softening his heart at her childlike awe.
With a squeal, she dumped the bundle onto the counter and peeled off her old garments, once again exposing herself to him. Before befriending Quin, he wouldn’t have noticed. Now, he couldn’t drag his gaze away.
Ziamee was perfect, from the column of her neck to the swell of a breast and the curves of her hips. Down her thigh was a scar he hadn’t noticed when she’d emerged from the lake. Then, her breasts had snagged his focus, along with her body glistening as if coated with liquid silver.