Captive of Pleasure; the Space Pirate's Woman (The LodeStar Series) (5 page)

“Do it fast,” Var warned. “Or I’m pulling Ilya out of here.”

“No, you’re not,” she said. “Just shut up and let me work.”

“You need us to do something, boss?” Riley rasped. “Start a fight?”

“No.” Joran straightened as an idea clicked solidly into place like the tumblers on a lock. “Better idea. I’ll join the bidding on this girl.”

“I’m right below the stage,” Riley pointed out. “And as a medic, I can tell you that’s no girl. She’s a woman grown, with all the equipment.”

“Right. Well, that will liven things up in my tont,” Joran quipped. Hells, he hated waiting for things to happen anyway. This way he got to make it happen, even though it was going to cost him part of their profits.

“She won’t be in your tont,” Qala said instantly. “She’ll be away to F City, with Mako.”

“Look at this little beauty,” the Vulpean gloated, his hovie gliding around the girl and her captor. “A human, lovely and ...
untouched.
”

“Dammit,” Joran said. “That’s just gonna make her more expensive.”
 

He didn’t know where the charm lay in being the first to get into virgin pussy, but many valued it. Himself, he preferred a female who knew what she wanted, how to ask for it, and how to give pleasure back, in any number of inventive ways.
 

Not that he wanted this female anyway. She was just a distraction—a curvaceous, nearly naked distraction in a tiny jeweled excuse for a costume.

Qala snorted. “Like you’re not going to get every cred back.”

Joran smirked. “True.” His credit would just take a little trip and loop right back in his accounts. Well then, this was going to be good fun. He got to play hero—something that rarely happened in his line of work—
and
shove his hands in the slaver’s capacious pockets. Although he’d rather shove a boot in his smug ass.

The bidding began, fast and furious. Evidently plenty of the buyers had credit left.

“Need more time,” Var warned again. “Whatever you’re gonna do, get on it.”

“Keep going. I’m on it.” Ignoring Qala’s restless stirring by his side, Joran waited until the bidders narrowed to two, a Serpentian flashing gems on his long, narrow hands and a human, his face hidden in a floppy hat and upturned collar, his movements sharp and frantic.
 

“Riley. Can you get a image on the one in the hat?”
 

“I’ll try,” Riley replied. “Got a direct line of sight here.”

The bidding went on.

“Quark, I could buy a new cruiser for that,” Qala muttered.

“He’s human,” Riley said. “That’s all I can tell you. Not a known criminal, and not from Frontiera.”

Finally the Serpentian shook his head, leveling a vengeful glare on the other man.
 

“Him I found in the database,” Wega said. “Runs a brothel on Serpentia. Caters to creepers.”

Qala made a sound of disgust.

“Going once,” the Vulpean exulted. “But wait! Will no one else give a little more for this lovely, innocent, sheltered young morsel?”

“Boss,” Var warned. “Do something! Got guards eyeballing us, and my trigger finger is itching.”

Joran stepped forward. “Here!”
 

His voice rang out deep and strong over the babble of voices and alien tongues. He raised his arm, holovid signal shooting up from the device in his hand. “I’ll raise two hundred credits.”

From the middle of the crowd, the hatted man whirled on him, fury in his stance, face shadowed by the floppy hat. “Four hundred more!”
 

“Six,” Joran called.

“Eight!” The man’s voice was strained, his stance wild.
 

“We’re finally in,” Ilya exulted. “Make sure they stay focused on you.”

“If he pulls a laser, you get him first,” Joran said to Qala. “Time to go public.”

Shocked gasps of his crew filled his ears, but he ignored them. Revealing himself was all that would carry this play. Besides, now that he’d seen the slaver, and conceived a hatred instant and deep for the man, he wanted to fuck with him. Wanted the slimer to know who was giving it to him.
 

He flung back his cape, exposing his head and face. “Nine hundred.”

Those closest to Joran fell back. “Il Zhazid!” The title echoed through the crowd.
 

“Only a fool outbids The Storm,” trumpeted a Barillian.
 

Joran and Qala appeared on the jumbo holotron. He smiled, showing his teeth. Damn, he almost scared himself when he did that. It certainly worked on those nearest him. A pair of Bartians shoved away, gibbering with fear. The crowd let them through, then closed ranks again, their fascinated gazes still on Joran.

“Nice,” Var muttered. “That’s what I call a distraction.”

“Yeah, nearly there,” Ilya breathed.
 

The Vulpean chuckled nervously from his perch. “Oh, my lord, I didn’t see that was you.”

He looked the other way. Checking in with his master, Joran realized. He blinked to focus the occule.
 

The slaver was scowling in Joran’s direction, head cocked as he listened to his mistress. She clung to his arm, speaking rapidly, while her male slave watched the girl on the sale platform, his gaze fixed in apparent fascination. The slaver shook his mistress off and spoke, smirking as he did so. His gaze was hooded, sly.
 

The hair on the back of Joran’s neck rose.
 

The Vulpean chortled with relief, as if he’d received the okay. “Why, I’m sure no one wishes to bid against the Storm. My lord, the girl is yours.”

A roar of approval went up from those watching. The Mau thrust the girl back onto the hoverpad. She fell to her hands and knees, and the pad wafted her over the heads of the crowd, straight to Joran.
 

“You’d better be about done, Ilya,” he muttered into his comlink, bowing to the crowd. “Their leader is up to something.”

The Mau dumped Joran’s purchase at his feet and sneered from the safety of his hoverpad. “Enjoy making her bleed.”

Joran stood tall, weapon visible at his side. “If I ever see you again, you’re the one who’ll bleed. And anyone tries to steal her back to sell her again, I won’t be happy. Blood will flow like rain.”

The Mau growled, but retreated in a hurry, zipping away on his platform.

“Better get her out of here before they kill us for her,” Qala advised, moving forward to his side, one hand on her own laser weapon. “She’s a hot commodity.”

“You mean
try
to kill us.” Joran glanced down at the nearly naked woman huddled at his feet, shoulders hunched, head down as if waiting for the next blow. She was either dirtier than he’d thought, or she had a nasty bruise on her bare back. He growled under his breath. He’d like to take those bruises out of the slaver’s hide.

He leveled a fiery stare on the crowd, which was shifting restlessly, working up to being a mob.
 

“She’s mine,” he called, his deep voice rising over the noise. “And you all know The Storm never gives up his plunder.”

He lifted one arm in a commanding gesture, and a bolt of light shot up through the air, followed by a loud rumble of thunder.
 

The crowd eddied like grass before a gust of wind, crowding away from Joran and the two women.A female screamed. Someone hooted with nervous laughter.

“God, I love tech,” Joran muttered to himself. “And now, time to go. Come on, sweetheart, up.”

Reaching down, he grasped the girl around the waist, tossed her over his shoulder and strode toward the entrance, Qala behind him. The crowd opened before them, eyeing Joran and his prize. The girl lay quiescent over his shoulder, a warm weight, only her constant trembling a sign that she was aware.

“All eyes are on us,” he said into his comlink. “And no one’s watching the rest of the merchandise. Everyone
move
.”

“Already on it,” a deep voice rumbled in his ear.
 

“Mako,” Joran acknowledged. “If you do this, you’re on your own til you’re clear.”

“Not a problem,” Mako said. “I have my ways.”

Joran didn’t waste any sympathy or further thought on whoever might come between the Mau man and his objective. They’d gotten the credit they came for, but he still had to gather the rest of his crew and get them all out of here.
 

Wega and Riley fell in with them at the entrance, eye-stalks waving in all direction. Wega’s wide mouth turned down dourly as she noted Joran’s burden, but Riley was snorting again. The ex-military medic had a lively sense of humor, although he sounded like a foraging skrog when he got going. Both Occulans had their weapons out, eyestalks focused in all directions, scanning the crowd.

The girl whimpered with each of Joran’s strides, but she did it quietly, thank the great God beyond. If she were screaming and carrying on, the crowd would no doubt love it, but he’d have to muzzle her. As they crossed the stretch of rocky ground outside the cave, Joran tracked the guards at the entrance, the mood of the crowd and the voices in the comlink implanted in his ear.
 

“Here it comes,” Ilya crooned. “Just a few more secs.”

“Not all of it, now,” Joran murmured. “Be polite, leave them enough to buy fuel, so the eppies can herd them back to base.”

He nodded to the old pirate, watching him from a perch on his slider, his two companions tucked in behind him. The man nodded back, but his gaze was pointed.
 

“Take care of her, lad,” he called. “A willing woman is a lot more fun, eh?”

“I’m sure I can sweeten her up.” Joran squeezed the soft ass in his grip.
 

The older man’s grizzled brows rose, then he nodded. “Aye, enjoy then, Il Zhazid.”

Joran caught the hint of mockery. He cocked his head, intrigued. “Come and visit me in my camp, if you’d like to see my little cat purring.”

This brought a crack of laughter. “Thank you, yer lordship. Don’t mind if I do. Michael Roundtree’s the name. Mind if I bring me lovelies?”

“Not at all. Beauty is always welcome.”

The Tygeans preened at this.
 

“How’ll we find ye?” their master asked.

“I’ll find you,” Joran assured him. “The Storm blows far and wide—all travelers in my territory are noted.”

Qala nudged him in the back. “My lord,” she said. “Your cruiser awaits.”

“Then let’s get to it,” he called, raising his voice as he turned with a swagger. “I’ve reiving to do!”

The stragglers who had followed him from the cave sent up a cheer at this, coupled with raucous laughter and a few extremely crude suggestions. Joran sent another lightning bolt over their heads, and thunder rumbled again. Those nearest ducked, hands over their heads.

The girl jerked in his hold, and he tightened his grip on her ass. Wouldn’t do to let her wriggle loose here—she’d be spirited away in no time and never heard from again.

The cruisers and sliders under the satcom camo awnings were a diverse lot, from ornate acidgel paintjobs to the dull camo of war surplus, but nearly all sported huge exhaust ports, souped up with core reactors almost bigger than they could contain. Handy for scuttling away before the IGSF showed up in their fast cruisers. No one escaped from the Space Forces in a direct race; the trick was to already be gone.

Joran’s cruiser sat at the edge of the other vehicles, out from under the main awning.
 

“Soon as we’re all on board,” Joran told Qala, “tell Haro to head to the rendezvous point.”

Haro lounged by the open hatch, his hard, one hand on his weapon, gaze on the other beings loitering about between the vehicles. He raised his brows approvingly under his shaggy hair. “Boss. You gonna be in the rear bay this flight, enjoying yourself?”

Joran stepped on board the cruiser and deposited his burden—carefully—onto one of the rear seats. Against the smooth brown leather, she looked even more bedraggled. And no less scared than she had on the auction platform, as she scuttled back into the corner of the seat.

“Nope. For one thing, our little beauty’s in need of a long, hot bath.” They were away from the noxious crowd, but the smell hadn’t improved, which meant it emanated from her.
 

Anyway, she might be a nice little armful, with an ass that felt superb under his hand and breasts like the sweetest firm pillows on his back, but even when she was clean and no longer scared out of her mind, she’d still be—

“A virgin,” Qala said, echoing his thoughts. “Il Zhazid doesn’t do beginners. Right, boss?”

“Bet
you
would.” Haro smirked at her.

Qala tossed her head. “Since you haven’t qualified since puberty, you’ll never know.”

The girl drew her bare arms and legs in more tightly, huddled on the seat. After one quick glance at the others, she watched Joran.
 

He stepped back, restive under the leash of that look. Quark, she was looking at him as if he was the only one on the cruiser. No, not going there.