Chapter 6
Of all the ships in all the galaxies, Zane had to board hers.
The thought crashed through his mind as Horris's crew surrounded them, weapons drawn and faces hard with the promise of violence.
Zane's hands still tingled with residual heat from the fire he'd thrown, his dragon stirring restlessly beneath his skin.
The beast wanted blood. Wanted to protect what was his.
His mate.
Mercy.
The realization hit him again, harder this time. She'd redirected his fire. Not dodged it, not shielded herself from it. She'd reached out with some instinct buried deep in her human DNA and turned his flames into a barrier.
The only way that was possible, the only explanation that made any sense at all, was if she was his destined mate.
Fire roared in his veins, begging for release. It would be so easy. A thought, a gesture, and Horris would be ash. His crew would follow seconds later. The ship would be theirs, and he could get Mercy somewhere safe to process what had just happened between them.
"Whatever you're thinking, don't." Horris kept his blaster trained on Mercy's head. The barrel kissed her temple with casual menace. "You're not faster than a plasma bolt."
The pirate captain's scarred face showed no emotion, but Zane could smell the fear beneath his bravado. Good. He should be afraid. If he knew what Zane was thinking, what the dragon wanted to do to anyone who threatened his mate, he'd already be running.
On his left, one of the pirates, a wiry human with nervous hands named Stevn, circled behind him. The man moved like he knew what he was doing, staying out of Zane's peripheral vision.
He needed to focus.
But Mercy stood there with her chin raised and defiance blazing in her eyes, and all he could think about was the way she'd instinctively wielded his fire.
His brothers were going to laugh themselves sick when they found out.
The playboy lord, the one who'd sworn he'd never settle down, undone by a cargo pilot with grease under her fingernails and a tongue sharp enough to flay skin.
Cold metal touched his wrists. The distraction cost him. Stevn had moved while Zane's mind wandered through impossible revelations, and now something sharp pricked his skin. The cuffs clicked shut with finality.
"Try anything funny and those'll fry your brain." Stevn stepped back quickly, like Zane might explode despite the restraints.
Neuro-cuffs. The weight of them was unmistakable, as was the faint electrical hum against his skin. Nasty pieces of technology, designed to scramble neural pathways if the wearer so much as thought about resistance. Usually found in the toolkit of slavers and the worst kind of bounty hunters.
Which told him everything he needed to know about Horris and his crew.
Whatever story they were selling about treasure maps and Mercy's father, their real business involved trafficking people. The modifications to their docking mechanism, the practiced way they'd boarded and searched, the neuro-cuffs ready at hand.
This wasn't their first kidnapping.
His dragon snarled at the thought, but Zane forced it down.
The cuffs would detect the spike in aggression, interpret it as hostile intent.
He'd seen what the cuffs could do. The screaming had lasted three hours.
When it finally stopped, the man had been drooling and vacant, all higher brain function burned away.
No, he needed to be smart about this. Patient. Find a way to get the cuffs off before he made his move.
Horris lowered his weapon, apparently satisfied that the danger had passed. "Take them to the brig and give them some food. We need to get out of here."
The proximity alarms were still wailing, which meant whoever had attacked them earlier might still be in the area. Scavengers drawn by the death of Mercy's ship, maybe. Or legitimate patrols investigating the disturbance.
Stevn grabbed Zane's arm while Krix, a human with facial tattoos that marked him as ex-military, took hold of Mercy.
The one who'd searched Zane's quarters and stolen his grandfather's watch.
Zane filed that away for later. When this was over, he'd be getting that back, along with several of Krix's teeth.
They marched through corridors that reeked of unwashed bodies and recycled air.
The ship was larger than the Alto but in worse repair.
Exposed conduits sparked occasionally, and Zane noticed several patches where hull breaches had been hastily welded shut.
A faded warning sticker on one bulkhead read "DANGER: EXPLOSIVE DECOMPRESSION" in three languages, but someone had drawn a crude smiley face over it in marker.
These people were hanging on by their fingernails, desperate enough to chase legends and kidnap lords.
The brig was exactly what he'd expected. A cage barely large enough for two people, with a narrow bench along one wall and a toilet in the corner that offered zero privacy. The energy field that served as a door hummed with enough power to discourage testing it.
It was, objectively, better than the closet on Mercy's ship.
More room to move, to breathe. He was absolutely not stupid enough to say that out loud.
Mercy's temper was already balanced on a knife's edge, and comparing their current cell favorably to any part of her destroyed home would end with him bleeding, neuro-cuffs or not.
Krix tossed a single protein pack through the energy field. It hit the floor with a dull thud that somehow made it look even less appetizing than usual.
"Go on then. Fight for it." The tattooed pirate grinned, showing teeth filed to points.
Mercy moved faster than Zane expected, snatching up the protein pack before he'd fully processed the challenge. But instead of keeping it for herself, she broke the bar neatly in half and held out one piece to him.
Their fingers brushed as he took it. The contact sent electricity racing up his arm that had nothing to do with the neuro-cuffs. His dragon surged forward, recognizing its mate through even that brief touch.
Mine, it growled. Protect. Claim.
He was completely, utterly fucked.
How had this happened? How had he walked onto a random cargo ship in a cheap port and found the one person in the universe designed for him?
Shade's knowing smile flashed through his memory. The Royal Matchmaker was supposedly psychic, able to see connections others missed. Had she known? Had she orchestrated this somehow?
The protein bar tasted like salted cardboard, but he forced himself to chew and swallow. Mercy needed to see him eating, needed to know he was taking care of himself so she could stop adding his welfare to her list of worries.
When it became clear they weren't going to provide entertainment by fighting over food, Krix and Stevn left. Their footsteps faded down the corridor, leaving Zane and Mercy in relative privacy. As private as you could be in a ship full of pirates who might be monitoring every word.
"What do you mean you're a freaking dragon?" Mercy's voice was harsh. She'd positioned herself on the bench so she could watch the door, ready for threats.
Perhaps he should have mentioned it sooner.
He couldn't tell her about the mate bond. Not yet. Not when she was injured and exhausted and grieving her ship. Not when they were locked in a cage with neuro-cuffs slowly poisoning his system. She needed facts, not more complications.
"I told you I was from Vemion. I'm a dragon lord." He kept his voice as matter-of-fact as possible. Like discussing the weather or navigation routes.
"Honestly, I thought that was just a title." She studied him with those sharp green eyes, cataloging details she'd missed before. "Are you a real dragon, like with scales and everything?"
"When I choose to be."
Her expression shifted through several emotions too quickly to track. Disbelief, wonder, calculation, and finally settling on grim acceptance. Because of course the universe would throw this at her too.
Pirates, treasure maps, and now shapeshifting passengers.
"You did something to the door to get us out." Not a question. She was piecing together the timeline, finding the holes in their captivity.
"I burned a hole in it."
Her gaze flicked to the energy field holding them now, and he could see her doing the math. Wondering why he hadn't already freed them if he had that kind of power at his disposal.
"They're on high alert right now. And I'm not immune to blasters." He shifted, trying to find a position where the neuro-cuffs didn't dig into his wrists. “Right now, they want you. I think you need to give them some hint about this map, to make yourself useful."
"And then we wait for our moment … again?" The skepticism in her voice could have etched glass.
"Exactly."
"We should just take our fucking moment while they're reeling." She stood, pacing the small space like a caged predator. Frustration crackled off her in waves that made his dragon want to growl.
"It may not seem like it, but I have tactical training on how to survive a hostage situation. We need to remain calm." Especially him, or the cuffs might do their worst.
"I am calm." She was absolutely not calm.
Her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides, and he could see the moment she registered the blood under her fingernails.
Her blood, from wounds she'd taken defending her ship.
"You have fire powers. You even used them to protect me from that cannon, didn't you? What's stopping you?"
The question hung between them. He could tell her the truth. That she'd redirected his fire, turned it into something else entirely. That the only person who could do that was someone whose soul was designed to complement his own. That in saving her, he'd found his mate.
But the words wouldn't come. Not here, not like this. She had enough to process without adding an eternal bond to the mix.
He just shrugged. "We need to get these cuffs off me first. Give them what they want, make it seem like we're not a threat, and in a few days, we'll own this ship."
They wouldn't need days. Once he got these cuffs off, once he had a clear shot at Horris without risking Mercy, it would be over in minutes.
She stopped pacing, turned to face him fully. The bruises on her face had darkened to purple-black, and her split lip had started bleeding again. But her eyes were clear, focused.
"Fine. We play it your way. For now." She settled back onto the bench, close enough that their shoulders touched. "But when your moment comes, you better be ready to take it."
He would be. For her, he'd be ready for anything.