Chapter 1 #2
Her gaze met his and held. Niir wasn’t sure if it was the residual effects of his brief breathing in of the terti flower, but the rest of the room turned to blurry shades of gray, leaving only this one brilliant female in sharp focus.
“Get back to the ship,” snapped Pizol into their helmet transmitters, jolting Niir back to reality. “Move! We have incoming.”
Trak signaled to the guards to gather the females and get them on the transport. They circled them and began herding them from the room.
Niir didn’t have time to go through the eighty-plus languages he was fluent in to find out which of them the females understood.
Instead, he moved forward and helped guide them to the exit.
They went easily enough, shuffling without resistance—perhaps because they were clearly depleted—although their fear was palpable.
The females carried themselves with the bewilderment of those not accustomed to discomfort, indicating that wherever they came from, they’d been well-cared for before being brought here.
The exception was the blue-haired female.
She walked straight and defiant, still comforting the young ones who clustered near her.
On the transport, Trak pulled Niir aside, out of earshot of the females. “I stand corrected.” Trak yanked off his helmet and shook out his unruly hair. “This did not turn out to be simple or straightforward. Again.”
Niir crossed his arms. “I take it Warlord Mek-la failed to inform you that the females consisted of hybrids?”
“He did fail to include that detail,” said Trak. “But he did mention that he was betrothed to one of them.”
“Of course.” Niir would bet a million credits that he knew exactly which female the warlord had laid claim to. “The raiders who stole the terti flowers missed the more valuable commodity hiding away in that room.”
Trak scratched his head, rumpling his hair.
“It’s well known that the hardest thing about producing the terti drug is keeping your workers from being affected and addicted to it.
Now, if you can breed some human hybrids who can work the flowers with no effects, that would be worth far more than the drugs.
” Trak folded his arms. “We have fourteen of them. I hate asking this disgusting question, but we need to know what we’re up against: What are these females worth on the underground market? ”
Niir rubbed his chin thoughtfully and trolled his memory for what he knew on the subject.
Unfortunately, he was more familiar with the drug than he would have liked.
“Terti flowers are incredibly difficult to grow to maturity and require tremendous constant care. Machines have never been successful substitutes for organic hands rearing these plants, so it’s safe to say these females would be nearly priceless to every single terti grower in every quadrant. ”
“Now we know why Warlord Mek-la hired us to retrieve his betrothed and not—”
“Do not say a reputable team,” Niir cut in.
“I wasn’t going to say that.” Trak raised a brow. “This makes us more than reputable—we’re bloody virtuous. The warlord knew we wouldn’t sell the females off. He knows I have a fondness for humans, and this lot looks very human.”
Niir resisted turning his gaze to the ceiling with a sigh. “Virtuous” would never be a word to describe any member of this crew. “Let’s return these females to the warlord and return to Virilia.”
“Funny you should mention our home planet. My half-brother is having local trouble, related to that traitor Pella Rin,” said Trak.
“He requested our assistance, but because we are in the middle of this, I deployed my closest ship to assist them. Rin will not be taking over our planet while we live and breathe.”
Niir closed his eyes and breathed deeply, repeating an ancient Virilian prayer for balance and control. He, more than any other of the crew, needed it.
He looked to the group of females huddled in the middle of the transport shuttle. The sapphire-haired female looked up over the heads and met his gaze. This time, he could see the fear. It shone in her eyes and compressed her mouth in a tense line.
Niir had seen this expression many times. It no longer had an effect on him aside from making him feel a little more weary than usual. He had long found himself unsurprised by anything, but he found himself unable to look away from this female’s worried expression.
He sat there, wondering what it would be like to get up, stride into that huddle of females and pull her into his arms. He wondered what she would feel like, how soft her lips were, how plush her skin was.
He held her gaze as he thought about these things, fighting a restlessness in his legs and an itching in his hands, until the female turned away and pressed closer to her group.
He closed his eyes and pressed the back of his head to the wall behind him.
What a fool he was. The Sislus warlord’s betrothed was not one to fantasize over.
Not even idly. And certainly not by the abandoned son of a mercenary.
Whoever and whatever this female turned out to be, she would never be his.