Freeker (3 page)

“Booted,” Tee snarled.

Ursula’s voice came over the comm from the engine room. “We tore away from the dock and are dragging a clamp behind us.”

“What does that mean?” Warrant stalked over to stand next to Tee. They both glared at the screen that showed an unruffled Ursula.

“It means that you ignored the alert. The same one I got. And pulled us away anyway.”

Tee glanced at Warrant. His fangs showed but he didn’t comment.

Warrant shrugged. “So, we’re on our way. No big deal.”

“Oh, it’s a problem. The force it took to yank the boot out of the station sent one of the engines offline. That, and the boot will drastically slow us down. It has a small engine that acts like an anchor. It will try to tug the ship in the opposite direction at all times. It’s already slowed us down by half.”

“Unhook it,” Warrant growled and bared his fangs. He felt the ridges on his cheekbones rise. It was a feeling akin to swelling tightness. Not necessarily unpleasant and sometimes as welcome as stretching underused muscles.

“Down, boy,” Tee snarled. “Ursula didn’t do this.”

Warrant rounded on Tee. He swiped his claws a hair away from his brother’s face. Then while keeping an eye on Tee, he commanded Ursula, “Find a way to get the thing off.”

“Hold your balls with both hands and take a leap, bug-man,” Ursula snarled right back. She’d taken to calling them that after learning that they’d been created in a lab with portions of a creature from the planet Ferrashi incorporated into their DNA.

“Getting another signal from station. They’re sending a search party out. They command us to await boarding.” Echtei interjected into the building argument.

“Like hell,” Tee growled.

Warrant hefted the knife still in his hand. The weight of it soothed him and he twirled it in his fingers. “Explain to them why they cannot enter a Scoriah nest uninvited.”

“My pleasure.” Echtei smirked and turned back toward his console.

Warrant glanced at Tee, his brother’s cheekbone ridges raised, his mouth in an ugly snarl and his gray skin tinged with red. With a deep breath, Warrant turned back to Ursula and spoke to the comm. “Get that thing off the ship before their security detail gets here.”

Ursula shook her head. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“I’m on my way down.” With that, he stomped off the bridge.

They couldn’t allow a security detail aboard. The Scoriah couldn’t be trusted not to tear the strangers apart. Tee in particular was a grumpy cuss with humans. The only two exceptions were the three they’d brought into the family—Ursula, her father Hannibal, and Joan, their heart-mother. Distrustful of anyone outside the family, Tee wouldn’t hesitate to kill the boarders if they entered the nest area of the ship. If they managed to hold back on ripping off the guards limbs, those guards may attempt a search. And find the guns.

That couldn’t happen. Not even over Warrant’s dead body.

*

Chara curled in a ball and willed her stomach to stop complaining. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten. Maybe sometime yesterday when one of the men who worked at Johnson’s had brought her a tray. They’d been nice enough but she’d been careful to avoid speaking to them. Men had always caused her trouble—as far as she could remember, anyway, even if that wasn’t much.

None of the workers had thought anything of her sitting there recovering on one of the cots in their big dormitory. The owner had explained that she had the bed for a week but then she’d have to leave unless she wanted a job there.

A job.

Spotty memory or not, she was sure she’d never worked a day in her life. She’d have to work now, but what she’d do, she didn’t know. Either way, touching men was too dangerous.

Even though she had nowhere to go, she had to find a way to escape the station. Her package of belongings had made it with her. So when Johnson had asked for a woman to visit the Scoriah on board their ship, she’d raised her hand, cleaned herself up, and unpacked the one set of clothes she owned. The dress she’d worn to her sentencing.

The sentencing, she remembered. The moment they’d strapped her down and stuck a needle in her arm, that was the most vivid moment of her life until she’s boarded this ship and seen a nude Scoriah. They could bleed her memories dry again and the sight of him would never leave her consciousness. Hell, it was practically laser printed on the back of her eyelids.

Her mouth watered and she touched her lips. His lips had been soft. His cock had been hard against her. She’d wanted to taste him. She’d never done that to a man but somehow, when he’d spoken of it, she’d wanted it. At that moment, she’d decided what to do. She couldn’t work at Johnson’s and touch men. She’d rather go back to finish her sentence, but Warrant was a pleasure and he wasn’t really a man, was he?

His gorgeous, unusual purple eyes were proof, weren’t they?

His claws had dug into her hips and the sensation had been a blinding pleasure as well as a reminder that he was a creature. Not a man. And no man had used his tongue like that on her before. She decided to keep him. He’d take her away.

She’d crawled into his cleaning booth and stared at the blood on her hips. It was a sign. He’d marked her. She didn’t mind. After all, she’d mark him at some point, wouldn’t she? While she cleaned up, she’d heard him calling for her, but needing a little more time to regroup, she didn’t answer.

Then he’d left and she’d gotten dressed again.

The ship had hummed loudly and vibrated a bit too much for her comfort. Lethargy hit her. She hadn’t been fully recovered and even if the ship were falling apart, she couldn’t evacuate while her legs were rubbery. His bed, still unmade from their sex play, had been too inviting. She’d crawled in and covered her head.

Now awake, she didn’t know what was going on and if her hunger were any gauge, she’d been in here, alone in the dark, for hours. The ship’s engine had been going for a while. No matter what, she was at least away from the station. No reason to continue hiding away. She was hungry.

She rose and went to the door. The room was sparse. It had the bed, a desk chair, and that was it. The drawers and shelves may have items in them, but she wouldn’t search them, yet. The walls were scuffed, though. And a few places were dented. A knife protruded from one of the walls.

The security panel next to the door didn’t respond to her palm. Her fingers curled in and she stared at the still closed door.

A chill went down her back. She blinked. What if she couldn’t get out? The room looked unused. Maybe this wasn’t his usual bunk. After all, they’d been in here to have sex. Perhaps he didn’t want to do it in his own bed. She never had. It was a disgusting act. She sniffed and straightened her dress over her thighs.

Warrant had made it thrilling and exciting, though.

Her stomach rumbled, loudly. She’d have to figure out communications. She couldn’t remain stuck in here. An icon on the display seemed appropriate. With a push, she spoke. “Warrant, please.”

“Who the hell is this?” snarled a man—not Warrant, but he sounded similar.

“Chara.” Another voice answered and a thrill shocked through her body. Her eyes widened and she glanced down at her pebbled nipples poking the front of her dress. This was an unfathomable response.

“Warrant.” She used her practiced, non-affected voice. It helped to center her.

“What are you still doing aboard this ship?” A snarl caught in his voice and the sound of him made her body tremble.

“I…”

“She must be the fugitive. Let’s put her out the hatch and they’ll deactivate the dock boot,” a Scoriah interjected.

Chara’s head spun and she lurched backward.

Nobody was going to shove her out an airlock. No man would threaten her again. She scanned the room. It was still empty. The cleaning stall had nothing inside it that she could use. Hurriedly, she grabbed the handle to the nearest drawer and yanked. It held clothes. A belt. She grabbed the belt.

The next drawer had nothing in it. The next, an extra pair of sheets. She found a collection of what looked like seeds and parts of plants. She paused and gave a sniff. Dirt. How long had it been since she’d been on the ground? She ran a finger over what looked like a root.

The door slid open.

She pounced to the right and spun. The belt snapped between her two fists and she threw her body at the man who’d come to hurt her. Haze filled her vision.

Spitting in his face, she climbed him until she could throw the belt around his neck and tug.

White hot fire ripped at her sides but she hung on. Grunting, gnashing her teeth and latching on, she bit until blood filled her mouth.

A roar shook her body and the fire in her sides scraped up to her arms.

Pressure forced her hold loose and the belt zipped from her fists, leaving behind a burn. Her body flew through the air and she slammed to the floor. Her lungs went completely devoid of air and she couldn’t breathe. Gasping, she blinked, trying to see her attacker, the man, the stinky, ugly, horrible man who tried to hurt her.

A creature landed on her, his bared teeth in her face, and he growled in a low threatening thrum that sent a chilling fear through her anger.

“What the hell are you doing?” The words were punctuated by heated breath blowing over her face.

She blinked again and finally able to get air in her lungs, gasped.

“You dare attack me? And on my own ship?” The man’s rage nearly garbled his words.

Still, the shock of being thrown to the floor hadn’t faded enough for her to speak and she couldn’t answer. She tugged on her arms but couldn’t break his hold.

“Truss her up. Get her to the rear hatch.” Someone said from nearby.

She hissed and kicked. She snarled and bit anything she could reach. Her vision was black. Black and empty. Rage filled every fiber of her. She slithered and bucked. Screamed.

“Get out!” The words were primal. Overbearing. Undeniable.

A weight bore down on her neck and she struggled. Her hands batted at the creature on her and she clawed, ripping into flesh.

The man grunted.

Blood scent clogged her nose.

Then white dots filled her black vision and she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get away, and she sagged, unable to fight.

Finally, through the rush of her heartbeat loudly filling her senses, she heard, “What are you doing, Chara?”

“Warrant?” She whispered.

The weight on her shifted. “There you are.”

A hand shifted through her hair and she blinked. Everything was blurry and she couldn’t quite decipher what the shapes around her were. Her voice was scratchy. “The man won’t throw me out the air lock. I’ll pry his eyes out, first.”

“I’ll hold him down for you.” Warrant chuckled and the hand in her hair shifted. His thumbs gently ran over her cheek. “You’re not going out an airlock.”

“No.” She could make him out now. His gray face already seemed familiar to her. She frowned at his smirk. “Why are you smiling?”

“Because your bloodthirsty nature is cute.” He licked his lips and her gaze dropped to his mouth. His tongue ran over a fang before he grinned even wider. “Fucking adorable the way you clawed me.”

“What?” She unclenched her hands which she’d just realized were clamped on his ass. Her fingernails had dug in but with his fatigues there, she didn’t think she’d hurt him. “I wasn’t being cute. I was trying to kill you.”

His grin turned into a deep, throaty chuckle. “You can’t kill me.”

“You threatened me and I tried to strangle you.” Maybe she wasn’t being clear enough. Maybe he didn’t understand the danger she represented.

“You never would have succeeded. I can let you try again. It was fun.” The man made a purring sound. Purring!

“You don’t understand how close you came to dying.” She shook her head and removed her hands. Somehow, they’d clamped on his ass again. He shifted, grabbing her by the wrists and yanking her hands above her head. He’d done it before she even realized what he intended. She pulled but couldn’t free herself.

“Why don’t we see how close I am to death?” His face descended and his body pressed down.

“Oh,” she breathed.

They were on the floor. Her dress was hitched up to her waist from the struggle. Looming over her, Warrant lay between her legs. His hard, cloth-covered cock lodged against her bared mound. Her arms were caught in his grip above her head. Pausing, he didn’t touch his mouth to hers but he was so close he blew air gently over her sensitive lips. She could read his mind quite clearly. He’d given her time to tell him to stop and he would. She opened her mouth, but the words didn’t come. Instead she whispered, “Kiss me.”

The purring in his chest vibrated against hers and it was strangely soothing. His lips brushed across hers. The tension melted from her body and she opened her mouth beneath his.

She’d kill him later.

His tongue touched hers and twined, tasting, probing. They didn’t move otherwise. His cock remained hard against her but he didn’t pump his hips. He still held her wrists but he didn’t tighten his loose hold or try to hurt her. She couldn’t move but he was as trapped as she was. His entire body seemed to vibrate with leashed violence.

It was alluring. Intoxicating.

She wanted that power at her mercy.

They stayed that way, as if in a stalemate, as they explored one another’s tastes. She’d never kissed anyone for so long. It made her dizzy. She floated there, in the sensation of being relished. That someone took the time to worship her mouth and nothing else. His patience amazed her but no more so that the amazement that his patience fed hers. Her core vibrated with a pleasant sensation and spread. Slowly. The heat tingled as it gently rolled from her core to her breasts and to her thighs. Even her hands were hot and achy.

Warrant pulled back. The purple depth of his gaze glistened like an inner passion burned inside him. His lids were half-closed, as if the lust weighed on him. His lips—a darker gray than his skin—were broad and full. Kissable. But now they were swollen. His voice was deeper than a human’s and rough. “Your taste is addicting.”

“Addicting,” she croaked. Her body jerked and she felt a pang in her middle. Her lust disappeared and she shook her head. “Let me up.”