Chapter 9
Flack
It was the most painful shift I’d ever experienced, my body breaking into pieces, shattering in ways it wasn’t meant to.
The block hadn’t gone—not entirely—but the sound of Irena’s terror was enough to break that wall.
I warped, twisted, and agony shot down my spine and burned across all my nerves.
For a moment, my wrists became too big for the chains.
They pressed against the unforgiving steel of the shackles, nearly breaking bone, and then abruptly obeyed my mind and shrank in size.
I clattered to the floor in a small, aching heap.
Flanks heaving, paws twitching against metal, all muscles limp from exhaustion.
It took me far too many agonizing moments to gather my wits after that ordeal, and even more before I gathered my paws beneath me and rose on trembling legs.
Irena needed me, and I was a weak heap of fur, useless muscles, and bone.
As the pain receded from my mind, with it came a hint of clarity.
Irena had not screamed again, which meant either she had escaped, or she was dead.
I would not believe the latter until I saw it with my own eyes.
Much rather, I’d believe my clever female had managed to escape.
My sensitive nose did not pick up the scent of blood, but it did detect Xathena’s fury.
That, more than anything, cemented my belief that Irena had managed to slip away.
My paws shook as I padded across the cell, my pants and boots abandoned beneath the cot.
The bars that enclosed the cell were just wide enough for me to slip between them in this form, which was vastly diminished compared to the shape I’d worn when hunting with Kitan what felt like eons ago.
I shook out my tail as I crossed between the bars, then stuck my nose to the ground to seek out a trail.
I’d find Irena, make sure she was safe and unharmed, and then I’d hunt down Xathena and make her pay for scaring my mate.
There was no doubt in my mind that the scent of the second-in-command’s fury was directly related to Irena’s scream, her fear.
I picked it up the moment I wriggled through the slowly opening brig entrance.
I was lucky it hadn’t quite locked right, even five years ago when I’d lived on this ship; that was to my advantage now.
Dimon hadn’t cared about it because the cells still worked, and he wasn’t often taking prisoners anyway.
It was late at night, and the ship was as quiet as it could get during a night cycle: the engines humming, moist heat curling through the hallways thanks to the bad venting situation, and the distant sound of snoring from the nearest bunk rooms. Xathena was stalking around the Vidu, barking orders, but the ship’s internal life-sign sensors had been broken a long time ago, too.
They’d have to find her themselves, using their eyes or a handheld scanner if they had one.
The ship was not nearly as large as the Varakartoom, but such a search was still going to take a very long time.
Good. That would keep the Xurtal female busy for a while, and an easy target when I came to make her pay.
I huffed softly, shaking out my small body and then twisting to lick the fur on my flank to smooth it down.
Rage still pounded through my veins, thick and heavy, clouding the edges of my vision with red-hot fury.
Irena’s fear scent was thick and heavy after I’d snuck past the galley on my belly and turned toward the crew quarters. It made the rage thicker, heavier.
How easy would it be to slip from room to room and rake my claws over exposed throats?
Sink my fangs deep into the jugulars of those resting?
I could cull the crew, cut their numbers in half before they knew what had happened.
Each male whose life I took would be one less threat to Irena.
Each life I took would make them pay for the horror my little mate had been forced to endure at their hands.
I could already taste it, their blood, their screams; hear the sound of their dying breaths.
My claws clicked near-silently against the metal floor as I reached the first door, and I tilted my head, snout angling up toward the control panel.
I’d have to shift to open it, either become bigger or become something other; a hybrid between man and beast. Yes, my body whispered.
I could feel the potential to alter my shape tingle along my spine, my muscles already stronger, steadier.
It was my nose that caught Irena’s scent—thicker, heavier—and drew me away from the door and the bloodshed calling me.
I trotted silently past bunk rooms, along the path Xathena had traveled several times in the last ten minutes.
There, beneath the floor around a corner, Irena’s scent had thickened, concentrated in ways that meant she’d lingered here.
How much time had passed since her scream and my shift?
Had she lain here, waiting for Xathena to leave and fearing discovery?
I didn’t know. Lost to pain and weakness, it could have been minutes or hours.
One thing was certain: she had not been found, because the Xurtal warrior was screaming in the distance, waking males and demanding they find her.
My ears twitched, and my purpose became clearer.
No bloodshed, not yet. I had to be calm, methodical, and make my move when I was certain I could get my mate out safely.
I’d find Irena, make sure every inch of her remained unharmed, and then I’d play along with Dimon.
Find his diamond for him, steal it, and stab him in the back.
Yes, a plan was already forming in my mind.
I was always far more patient than anyone gave me credit for, and I was going to have to be at my very best to protect my mate.
Though there was definitely one thing my patience had run out on: touching her.
Now that I was free, I needed much more than the sweet, accidental brushes she’d inadvertently given me.
I needed to hold her, taste her, and I knew I could make that so good for both of us that she’d have no regrets.
My claws could not lift the metal floor plate she’d lain under, or open the hatch in the wall she had probably used to get there.
That did not matter; she’d moved on, and I just needed to follow my senses to find her.
Nose to the floor, my body remained small for now.
A silent ghost stalking through the ship, dodging cameras and crew until I found her.
Ah, Irena, so very clever. She’d found a spot on the ship too small for anyone to reach.
A sanctuary deep in the bowels of the Vidu, beneath the thrumming engine room where a myriad of pipes and conduits came together.
Though space on a ship came at a premium, she’d found one of those awkward spots where pipes had created a little hidey-hole.
I’d never been here, but I’d studied the ship’s blueprints in close detail to locate good spots to hide contraband.
Smuggling hatches were my specialty, and I’d definitely made note of this space in my search.
It was so inaccessible, though, that using it to store contraband was too much of a hassle.
Hide a tiny, malnourished human? Now that worked.
While I had found a pipe leading to it too small to fit anything but my very smallest form, she must have used a slightly bigger access point to get here.
I was impressed. Slinking through the narrow pipe had forced me to grow to the size that was what made me a master thief.
The big secret not even my closest friends on the Varakaroom knew about.
This was what made me stand out as a thief, a procurer of anything for the right price.
Even Dimon did not know how I always managed to get into impossible places.
I did not hesitate to show myself to Irena, though.
She was my mate, and mates had no secrets.
Her reaction to seeing me? It was gold, far better than anything I could ever have expected.
Her improvised weapon was smart, but adorable in her trembling hands, and her radiant smile was so gorgeous it took my breath away.
I was not ashamed to admit I got a little carried away then.
Perhaps I’d been a bit more touch-starved than I’d realized.
When she offered her hand, I wanted those fingers in my fur.
I should have felt bad when I realized she didn’t know it was me, but I couldn’t bring myself to.
Blazing stars, it felt good to have her pet me. Too good.
I might have made some embarrassingly pleased noises and rolled for her, butting my head against her fingers to keep them on me.
Damn it, my tail might have even wagged, unable to contain my excitement.
Her whispered, “What are you?” wasn’t enough to draw me out of my haze of pleasure.
She smelled good, not of fear but of sleepiness.
She was unharmed, her pale skin unblemished along her arms and bare legs, though I could see the ever-present calluses, cuts, and scrapes on her hands and feet.
She scratched behind my ears with dedication, a soft smile on her face, her confusion replaced with delight.
The metal bar she’d briefly held as a flimsy defense was already forgotten on the floor beside the soft nest of blankets she was sitting on.
As tired as she smelled and looked, I was certain she would have kept petting me as long as I wanted.
Selfishly, I wanted her to keep up the delightful scratches, but I couldn’t.
I’d come here to look after her—for protection, for seduction—not this.