Chapter 2
TWO
Calinae didn’t know this species of males.
She didn’t know if they were dangerous or peaceful; brutal or gentle.
All she knew was they were large, and she and the other females were facing an unknown fate at their hands.
Her cousins were frightened—and so was she—but she was betrothed to the Sislus warlord, Mek-la and had been trained to maintain composure and calm no matter the circumstances.
She had to show composure and calm. How she felt was another story.
There was much discussion among the muscled males with blue tails and strange black, smudgy marks around their eyes. They spoke rapidly in a foreign tongue as she and the other females were led off the small ship and into the belly of a massive battleship.
They’d never been on a ship like this before.
Inside, it was cramped in some areas and wide open in others.
Ropes of wires and glowing tubes snaked along the corridor’s ceilings.
The walls were narrow, covered in plates and hatches that sometimes looked patched together and sometimes looked sleek and smooth.
Her small group stayed close together as the enormous males brought them through twisty corridors and up a lift where they had to cram together to fit on. Her belly twisted and tightened into a sour knot. If these males meant them harm, there would be no escape.
They came to a large open chamber filled with long tables and a mix of chairs and benches.
Exposed pipes and more wires twisted along the walls and the high ceiling.
Cali closed her eyes and drew in fresh, clean air—a welcome change from the dome where they had been moved.
It had been hot there, the opposite of Rakol.
The small room they’d all been forced to share had no ventilation, making breathing oppressive.
Their home world had been harsh and dark and cold, but she’d give anything to be back there.
On Rakol, they were safe. They had enough food to survive, and they hadn’t been forced to work until they dropped from exhaustion.
She couldn’t understand why the warlord had moved them to such a horrible place as the hot moon. Had they displeased him somehow?
To her back was a tall girl named Hiva. She had long yellow hair and shared Cali’s stoic reserve.
They were close, but the time spent at the hot moon had taken more of a toll on Hiva than on Cali.
Hiva struggled to sleep in the heat. Many times, Cali had comforted her friend through sweats and strange body tremors that she herself did not experience. Now, Hiva’s elbow hit Cali in the ribs.
“Look,” said Hiva. “There’s a female with them. She has no tail. She looks like us.”
Cali turned quickly and saw the one her friend referred to.
There was no mistaking the female. She had long, fire-red hair worn in intricate braids and a strong, beautiful face.
A shiny white suit wrapped her like a second skin.
A heavy blaster was strapped to one thigh.
She moved with the confidence and authority of one very certain of her high position.
Hiva was right—this female did resemble them, but there were some subtle things that Cali could not put her finger on, which made her unsure of that.
Seeing the female move among the crew was interesting. It was clear she did not serve these males. It gave Cali a glimmer of hope that this was not a slave ship…but she did not drop her guard. Females were just as capable of cruelty as males.
The female spoke to them in a loud clear voice, but not in Rakolin, the language they used.
Cali had been taught two additional languages as part of her training to be Warlord Mek-la’s bride.
The female touched a silver device on her ear and began speaking with knitted brows.
Before she’d finished, a huge male entered the chamber.
The red-haired female smiled at him with relief in her eyes, but Cali tensed.
She remembered this male. He stood apart from the rest of them, not only for his scars and body art, but for the streaks of silver at his temples and the sheer size of him.
His face looked like it had been carved from stone.
He had an unsmiling mouth with surprisingly sensual lips, a straight, proud nose, dark, slashing brows, and the bones of one of the warrior gods she’d read about in the study center on Rakol.
He wore the crossed straps over his chest like the rest of the males seemed to wear, but under them, a sleeveless black tunic covered his upper body.
Its snug fitting showed the cuts and dives of his highly toned body.
Scars from long-healed wounds were visible on his arms. Colorful markings covered his skin and in some places, they appeared to be designed around the scars.
Long legs carried him with confidence and purpose, and a blue tail extended out behind him, tipped with a mean-looking barb.
He held the tail in a low curve that he kept still, unlike other males, whose tails swished and twitched.
Cali had the sense that he did not gesture idly.
He looked like someone whose every move had an intention and a purpose.
His light gray eyes moved over everything with a detached coldness that spoke of a hard-lived life.
But not when he looked at her.
His gaze stopped again on her and an unnerving spark came to life in that steely gaze.
Cali knew what it was—physical attraction.
On Rakol, several females had enjoyed relationships with male guards.
They talked about it openly, giving the rest of them a thorough education, in addition to what they were taught about sexuality in the Study center.
Nothing frightened Cali more at that moment than this male’s attention. Not because she was repulsed by him, but because his sheer masculinity beckoned like a crooked finger. She wondered what those muscles felt like, what his chest looked like under that tunic.
It didn’t matter that the red-haired female liked him. Cali quickly averted her gaze, but she still felt the sting of heat on her skin where those gray eyes lingered.
She heard his voice. It was clear and rich, with a touch of gravel. Again, she didn’t understand him, but the sounds of the words were changing. They were different languages he was using. Cali realized he was trying to communicate.
Hiva cast an anxious glance her way. “What are these people?”
“I don’t know,” Cali whispered back. “They haven’t harmed us…yet.”
“It can’t get worse than it was.” Hiva swallowed heavily. “On the hot moon.”
Cali feared Hiva was wrong about that. She reached for her friend’s hand and squeezed it as the large, gray-eyed male continued speaking. He was still trying other languages, but still, none of them were comprehensible to her. “We will get through this.”
Hiva didn’t reply. The hollowed-out exhaustion in her cousin’s face told her clearly that her reserves were gone. She worried how many other among them were stretched as thin as Hiva. With some luck, their situation wouldn’t get worse.
“Greetings,” said the male.
Cali’s head snapped up at the word, uttered not in Rakolin, but in the universal language she’d been taught.
The male’s gaze snapped to hers and locked on. “Ah. I see someone understands me.”
It was too late to feign ignorance. Cali could do nothing but stand there, breath held, as he strode toward her.
He never looked away, bearing down on their group like an incoming storm.
The other females shrank away. Hiva’s grip on her hand tightened, but Cali could feel the sweat on her friend’s palm and gently released her.
He loomed above her, gazing down with heavy-lidded eyes, shadowed by the darker skin around his eyes. “Do you?”
Drawing every bit of courage, she released her breath and pulled in another one before straightening her spine and firming her jaw. “Yes. I know the universal language of the third galactic quadrant.”
“That makes things easier.”
She tried to smother a tremble. “What ‘things’?”
He ignored the question. “On behalf of the Virilian prince Trak Letu,” said the tall male, “we welcome you to our ship and offer you our hospitality. My name is Niir Gosk. I am head of communications on board this ship.
“What is your name, female?”
“Calinae,” she said, astonished to hear her voice sound as strong as it did, when she was trembling inside. “I request that we be safely returned to our settlement without harassment or…worse.”
One of his dark brows lifted, just a fraction. Cali hoped it was amusement and not his way of expressing displeasure. She should probably have tried to be more deferential. She was in no position to request anything.
“Worse?”
“Yes,” she said, swallowing. “I think you know what I mean.”
He cocked his head. “Prince Trak Letu has few rules for those aboard his ship, but one of them is that no living being—male or female—will be touched against their will. His rules are not broken.”
She nodded, feeling a knot in her belly unwind just a fraction. “That is reassuring.” Time would tell whether this rule was actually followed. “Who is Prince Trak Letu?”
“That is Trak.” He nodded to a handsome blond male who stood in conversation with the female. He had also been with the group who had taken them from the hot moon. “Beside him is his mate, Anna. Their two children also live on this ship.”
She wasn’t sure why he added that last part. Perhaps he thought the knowledge of children aboard the warship would put her at ease. And, oddly, it did, easing her fear down another notch. She found the courage to lift her chin again and meet that steel-gray gaze. “What do you intend to do with us?”
“We were hired to collect you and return you to Warlord Mek-la.” He crossed his arms. “But there are more pressing issues before we take any further action.”
Her belly tightened again. “Such as?”
“Medical attention for the sick among you.” His gaze moved over the group of them with a critical eye.
“Tell the females in your party that they will be divided into groups and brought to comfortable sleeping quarters where they will have access to showers, food, and clean clothing. A medic will be evaluating them and administering any treatment they require. Tell them they are safe.”
It sounded good, but she hesitated. “How do I know I would be telling them the truth?”
“Tell them.” Impatience edged his voice. “Or they will be frightened when the guards come for them.”
Cali pulled in a shaky breath. With no other real option, she relayed Niir’s message.
Her voice wasn’t as strong as she would have liked it to be.
She was sure her uncertainty showed. The faces of her cousins, who were more like sisters, registered enough relief to satisfy the male beside her.
Four huge guards came toward the group and urged them toward the exit.
Cali moved to join them, but a large, scarred hand closed around her arm. She spun back with a shocked gasp.
“What language do they speak?” he asked.
“Rakolin, of course. We’re from the planet Rakol.” Cali was no frail female, but her arm felt as fragile as a dry twig in his iron grasp. “Release me.”
He dropped her arm like it was a hot coal. “Another mystery.”
“What mystery?” she asked. “It’s our home.”
“So you say.” He gestured to a different exit. “Calinae, as the only one who is able to communicate, you are the leader of your group and will enjoy the honor of guest quarters on the officers’ deck.”
“I’m not their—”
“You are.” He held up a hand. “Come. I will show you to your quarters.”