Chapter 7
SEVEN
Niir kneeled on his cushion, hands resting on his knees.
There was no mantra or prayer or mindful thought he could hold that could wipe Calinae from his mind.
He’d met with her six times over the past four cycles.
They had eaten together, drank taga in the lounge together.
Predictably, she did not enjoy the taste of taga.
Each time it was easier to get her to open up.
Each time she smiled more, was more relaxed.
Each time she expressed more doubt about her future with Warlord Mek-la, which was a good thing because he had no intention of leaving her with him.
It would be her choice, however. Ultimately, he would give her all the facts about her hybrid genetics and the reality of her fate as one of Mek-la’s many wives, and the likelihood that her cousins would be sold off to producers of terti powder or worse, to harems somewhere.
If, after all that, she still chose to wed Warlord Mek-la, he would not stop her.
But it would be the hardest thing he would ever do.
What was it about this female? He suspected it had something to do with their shared lack of family and their distinct need for one.
Niir had made his with Trak and the crew.
Calinae had made hers with her “cousins.” They probably really were her cousins, possibly sisters, depending on how things went in the lab she was conceived in.
She had not mentioned her parents. That was a conversation she was clearly avoiding.
He’d hoped him telling her about his own lack of parental anything might inspire her to open up about hers.
He would bet good credits that she was reared by Sislus nurses until she, and the others, could be shipped off to the settlement and put to work. He needed to hear her say it.
He let out a grunt of frustration and stood up. There would be no meditation tonight. He wondered what she was doing in her room. Sleeping? Eating? Crying? Perhaps he should check on her.
There was no harm in checking in. The truth was, he just wanted to see her.
He pulled on just his tunic—his bare torso drew too many stares at the sheer number of inked marks and battle scars.
Some were quite gruesome. Just as he stepped outside his door, a flutter of blue and gray caught his eye.
He looked up in time to see a familiar female hurrying down the corridor.
Where are you going, Calinae? Niir followed quietly, genuinely curious what she was up to.
He knew these halls, but she did not. Her movements were jerky, unsure.
She peered into open doors and around corners.
He watched her duck out of the way when crew members passed nearby, and realized with a start that she was looking for the other females—her cousins—and winced at a pang of guilt.
It would have been wise to let her visit them and see where they were settled, but he’d given her updates on them instead. Obviously, that wouldn’t be enough. It had been an error on his part, and a thoughtless move. He selfishly liked keeping her to himself.
He watched her hair swishing down her back in a thick fall of blue.
Her ass swayed under the simple gray fabric.
Watching her was mesmerizing, tantalizing.
He wanted to feel that flesh in his hands, to squeeze it and test its firmness.
A low growl vibrated in his throat. There was no denying that he lost perspective when dealing with this female.
One thing he knew for sure—she was heading in the wrong direction. If she stayed on her current course, she’d encounter one of the engine rooms and probably terrify the engineer on duty. With swift steps, he moved forward to stop her before she entered the most dangerous section of the ship.
“Calinae.” He did not intend the rasp in his voice.
She froze. “Yes?”
“This way.” He turned and strode away without checking if she followed.
He knew she would. He led her back the way they came, but took a turn that led to a lift.
Her footsteps were quiet behind him, but the hunter in him heard her, felt her.
He sensed she was wary, but not afraid. She followed him onto the lift. Only then did he face her.
“It is not safe to roam the ship without an escort,” he said.
A fresh frown creased her brow. “You said the crew wouldn’t…bother us.”
He shook his head, unable to tear his gaze from her. This felt like the longest lift ride ever. “This is not a tourist ship. We have areas with high radiation, chemical contamination of the air, and unmarked hatches that would suck you into open space.”
“I see,” she said.
“The crew will not touch you.”
Her gaze stayed on his, bound by the same unbreakable force that held him in place. “What about you?”
He didn’t need to ask her what she meant. His breath locked in his chest as he took a step toward her, crowding her in the confined space of the lift. He placed his hands on the wall, bracing on either side of her head. “I should avoid being alone with you.”
She lifted a hand, placed it on his chest, but did not push him away. “Why is that?”
Her touch rolled over his skin like hot steam. He curled his hands into fists to keep them off her. His touch would not be as gentle, as curious as hers.
Some naughty inner voice whispering that maybe she would enjoy it rough made him harden beneath his snug leather trousers.
The urge to possess, claim, take, aroused the ever-present primal form in him.
He considered just telling her that a brutal version of himself lay under the surface, threatening to burst forth and incinerate her and everything he touched.
That would put an immediate end to her interest.
Her fingers slid over his muscles, learning the cut and shape of him.
Niir drew in an unsteady breath. He could barely believe this was happening.
He couldn’t think with her hand on him. He could hardly move.
Who was he kidding? There was no resisting this female.
His fists unclenched and moved toward her, eager to know her curves.
“Um, pardon me, sir,” said an uncertain voice beside them.
Calinae snatched her hand back. Color flooded her neck and cheeks.
Niir whipped his head to the offender with a snarl. “What?”
A Virilian crew member stood there, trying to look at anything but them. “Apologies, sir. The lift is… Well, I need to use it.”
Oh, sweet stars, how long had he stood there in a trance with Calinae, with the lift doors wide open? He hadn’t even noticed when it stopped moving. He placed a hand on her back and ushered her off the lift.
News of this would travel the ship in a heartbeat.
Not that he cared. The males on the ship were sure to leave Calinae alone now, not that he worried about that.
Trak may come across as a haphazard idiot at times, but he was, in fact, a brilliant leader and a shrewd captain.
His rules regarding the treatment of females would not be violated, of this he was certain.
Calinae tensed beside him. They were on one of the lower decks.
Here, it was far different from the quiet and mostly empty officers’ residence, where both their quarters were.
Crew members noisily moved around the cramped corridors.
Niir doubted she’d ever seen so many species in one place.
The different languages being spoken was mind-boggling.
“The other females in your group are being housed this way,” he murmured close to her ear.
Strands of that blue hair tickled his nose.
It felt good to touch her back, so he didn’t remove his hand.
Instead, he used his fingers to urge her in the direction of her cousins, and stayed close by her side as they navigated the busyness of this part of the ship.
Niir knew the females shared a common space with staterooms branching off it.
Three to four shared a stateroom with bunks.
These quarters were used when transporting groups.
They weren’t palatial, but they were comfortable enough.
Reports showed that the females were eating, bathing, wearing the clothes they were given.
They did not seem to be in distress and the medics that attended them found them to be pleasant.
Unfortunately, no one understood a thing they said.
Rakolin was so obscure, it wasn’t programmed into the translation settings in the v-link units most crew members wore.
He placed his hand on the pad beside the common space entry.
They didn’t know how to answer it, so he let a few moments pass, then opened the door.
About half the females were in the space.
They were still and staring as he entered.
He was aware that his size could be seen as threatening.
It was a good thing Calinae was present. He stepped aside to allow her to enter.
The female beside him let out a squeal and bolted into the arms of her cousins. A sharp pang dragged a knife through him. That sound of joy drove home how wrong he had been to not bring her here earlier.
More heads poked out of staterooms, drawn by the commotion, and joined them.
Niir watched, with a good deal of awe, as the previously quiet, serious-looking group of females broke into smiles and hugs and yelps of joy.
Calinae was swallowed up in a sea of arms and hair and the mysterious syllables of Rakolin.
He did not like hearing a language he didn’t understand. It left him at a disadvantage.
Then, Calinae’s head emerged from the group. Her gaze found his. She smiled at him, wide and pure.
Niir could not have moved if the business end of a blaster was pressed to his temple. Well, no. He could. If he wasn’t careful, he would start sounding as dramatic as Trak.