Prime Imperative (The Prime Chronicles Book 3) (9 page)

“Don’t touch.” The Mason freighter captain turned, grabbed her arm, and pulled her out of the way of the shifting mound of fabric. His move nearly had them colliding with another robotic unloader. He dragged her to a rusted steel pillar far away from the shuffling pile, pushed her against it, and growled, “Stay away from the Ragbag. Has teeth and is poisonous.”

Angry shouts from the back of his ship drew the captain’s attention. He was clearly torn between guarding her and responding to what looked to be a major brawl between his men and some nasty-looking Terrans and Erians.

His crew was getting the worst of it.

“Go,” she urged. “I’ll stay right here. My back against the pillar. You can see me from there.”

The captain shook his head, but then the sound of laser fire decided the matter for him.

“Here.” He handed her his sidearm, leaving him with his blaster and a long battle-blade. “Don’t move.” He jabbed his finger at her face. “Don’t attract attention. Don’t get raped or killed. Anyone comes near. Shoot to kill.”

Then he ran to enter the fray, his blaster spitting wide sweeps of stun-level blasts and his battle-blade slashing at the Erians.

Bria placed herself as close to the pillar as she could while keeping the captain within sight. To give the man credit, he looked her way frequently even while shooting and slashing. Damon must have a horrific reputation to make the captain that attentive even as he fought for his and his men’s lives.

She shuddered as a feeling of deep dread piled on top of her sensory overload. The walls shielding her empathic senses cracked under a bombardment of dozens of angry and lascivious male emotions. Her heart pounded and her fight-or-flight instinct raised its hackles. Loss of hearing and nauseating smells were now the least of her worries.

There was danger here—and the darkest was focused on her.

Bria checked the settings on the laser pistol with trembling fingers. She shoved it to high stun. While she wasn’t comfortable shooting a laser pistol, she knew enough to point and shoot, if needed. With her dominant hand, she drew her knife from the sheath strapped to her thigh. This weapon, she was far more comfortable with—if she could get up the nerve to kill someone.

Find the nerve.

Yeah, well, until the captain came back or Damon came to fetch her, she planned to follow the gruff freighter captain’s advice and not attract undue attention.

Unfortunately, her sensible plan of action failed almost immediately.

Danger sought her out in the form of one male. His emotions, his intent, read more hungry greed than murderous or sexual. He moved away from a small pack who’d stayed behind to leer at her rather than watch the fight. The male was pseudo-reptilian, probably Erian since Antareans didn’t normally venture this far into the Milky Way. He looked too reptilian to be a Dornian. Dornians had more humanoid attributes than their distant cousins.

His movement toward her was sinuous and slow in an attempt to lull her into a false sense of safety. But he wasn’t at all safe. He could strike quickly and inject her with a toxin very similar to his pseudo-reptilian cousins, the Antareans and Dornians.

From his lipless mouth, his tongue flicked in and out in a rapid fluttering motion. He was tasting the air, scenting her.

Erians liked to terrorize and
play
with their prey. Many were mercenaries and traffickers of anything they could sell to make a profit including women and children. Had this man been sent to kill her? Or was she a convenient target for a fun time and then potential profit?

She guessed the latter. No one knew she was coming to Jump Station Charybdis but Lia—and she trusted Lia as much as she trusted her family.

The Erian’s narrow-eyed glances up and down her body repulsed…frightened her. His intent had turned more sexual.

Recalling what passed for the sexual act in his species, Bria shuddered. Adrenaline poured into her bloodstream, and her body readied itself for flight or fight. Her heartbeat sounded too loud and fast in her ears. Her breathing threatened to tumble out of control.

Think. Think!
What were her options?

She could scream for help.

But the captain was still fighting further down the docking area and wouldn’t be able to hear her above the noise of the fight and all the other dock noises.

She could run, but the Erian and the men who’d stayed behind to leer at her had her paths to the freighter and the exits from the dock platform cut off. If the Erian didn’t catch her, some other equally dangerous man or men would.

For the time being, she couldn’t flee. She refused to give in to the fear threatening to fracture her self-control. The Erian wanted her afraid. He wanted her to lie down, belly up, and present her neck in submission.
Not gonna happen.

Preparing to defend her position, Bria called up her battle-mate energy from deep within. It filled her with invigorating warmth, cleared her mind, and bolstered her resolve to stand strong. While she was still wary, she was no longer frightened to the point of paralysis. If she went down, she’d go down fighting.

The best defense is a strong offense.

But she wasn’t a trained warrior, so she’d be less successful at going on offense in a physical way. Using her brain was her strong point. She needed to outthink and outmaneuver the enemy.

In the current situation, the laser pistol was no protection against the Erian, whose thick skin would deflect the laser stream, even at kill levels. She shoved the laser in the back of her waistband. Her knife would be the better defensive weapon. She palmed it and held it against her thigh, out of the Erian’s line of sight. She needed to damage a vital area so he’d have to take time to regenerate. Then she could escape the box the Erian had placed her in and run toward the captain for help or even back onto the ship.

“Prime female. Here. Alone.” The Erian’s automatic translator labored slowly in Galactic Standard. He looked her up and down and then attempted a smile which came across as more of a leer. “Need protection. I give.”

Protect, my ass.

His emotions bombarded her psyche until images of what he wanted to do to her threatened the calm facade she’d adopted. He saw her as a weak vessel for his lust and a rare commodity to sell. She hated it when she was right.

But the Erian underestimated her fortitude and her brains—and that gave her an advantage.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, she forced a slight smile on her lips. “I’m waiting for someone. But thank you for offering.”

After a short pause for the translation, he laughed. The sound slithered along her spine like a river of acid. She shivered, swallowed hard, and rubbed her thumb over the hilt of her knife, then adjusted her grip.

Patience.
In this game, she’d only have one chance to take him down.

“He fool. Not protect. I take.” The male nodded.

He moved forward once more. His body swayed with each step. Her hindbrain shouted “danger.” He was attempting to mesmerize her with his movements. He was close to the do-not-cross line she’d chosen. At that point, she’d have no choice but to escalate the confrontation.

Her muscles tightened and prepared to fight. She raised the hand holding the knife and waved it in a back-and-forth motion, drawing her opponent’s attention to the fact she wasn’t totally helpless.

She focused her gaze on her target—the spot above the Erian’s nasal slits and between his eyes. The target was small, about the size of a peanut. She was sure she could hit it with a scalpel, but the knife she held was still unfamiliar. But even a less-than-perfect hit would cause enough damage to allow her to get at least into the docking tube and back to the freighter.

Then the noise on the docks lowered what seemed like a decibel or two. In her peripheral vision, she noticed the fight at the back of the Mason freighter had ended. But it was too late. Even if the freighter captain spotted her danger, he wouldn’t be able to get to her in time.

The Erian’s energy had changed, heightened until he almost vibrated. He was about to attack.

“Little knife. Ha. Puny female. Not harm me.” The Erian closed the gap, edging ever closer to her breaking point. He stopped, postured, thumping his chest. His tongue darted out and tasted the air again. “You ripe.”

Okay, well, that was disgusting and terrifying…and grated on her last fricking nerve. Anger unlike any she’d ever felt before roared through her body like wildfire. She’d had it up to her eyeballs with pseudo-reptilians telling her she was fertile.

“Back off, you split-tongued slimeball…or I’ll use the knife.” Bria took several slow, calming breaths. Muscle memory from all the years of scalpel-throwing challenges was her best ally at the moment—once she stopped her hand from trembling from the overabundance of adrenaline and battle-mate energy. “I can take you down with one throw…then take your head.”

That last part was a bare-faced lie. She wouldn’t know if she could kill the Erian until she was confronted with the actual decision. But Damon had always told her, “When you bluff, bluff big.” Of course, that had been when they’d played cards. She was fairly sure he hadn’t ever meant for her to face down a full-grown Erian mercenary with one small knife.

Happily, she didn’t have to prove her boast or make the choice.

A roar of pure masculine rage echoed throughout the cavernous dock area. She knew that bellow, having been at the receiving end of it many times over the years.

Damon had arrived. His call to battle would’ve done an ancient Terran Viking warrior proud.

The stupid Erian was on the ground, bleeding out from a battle-blade cut to his brain’s major artery, before Bria could even blink.

Her knees went as limp as wilted lettuce. She moved to lean against the pillar at her back and barely missed tripping over the Ragbag.

She looked down at the quivering pile and muttered, “You were no help. You could’ve bit him.”

The Ragbag uttered some high-pitched gibberish, then swirled away in a cloud of dust and moved toward the Erian.

“Bria!” Chest heaving, Damon stood over the Erian as he looked her way. A muscle in her brother’s jaw pulsed, and he clenched and unclenched the hand fisted around his weapon.

“I’m fine”—she stared at the downed, bleeding male who’d already begun to heal—“that was too close.”

The Erian growled something Bria couldn’t quite catch, but it had to have been nasty, because Damon slashed the man’s carotid artery again. “Don’t even think of getting up, fucker.” Then her brother placed the tip of his battle-blade between the Erian’s slitted eyes. “And keep your filthy snake mouth shut or chance losing your head.”

Damon turned his head and smiled at her. “Never a dull moment around you, is there?”

“Guess not.” She tried to smile, but failed miserably. Instead her lower lip trembled and tears welled in her eyes. All she wanted to do now was throw herself in her big brother’s arms, bawl her eyes out, and let him comfort her as he used to do when she was a little girl.

What a loser of a battle-mate she was turning out to be.

“Bria…princess…look at me.” Damon’s voice was soft, but commanding.

She opened her eyes which she hadn’t even realized she’d closed and looked up. Her brother’s blue eyes glittered with rage. His need to kill the Erian for threatening her safety poured off him in violent waves. His anger was so hot, so turbulent that she was forced to raise her mental shields against the pounding heat.

Damon’s fiery gaze checked her thoroughly, from top to bottom—twice. “He touch you?” The guttural voice was almost unrecognizable as his.

“No.” She took a wide path around the jittery pile of rags and the glaring Erian to stand by Damon’s side. She touched his arm. His muscles were so tense they felt like titanium steel cables. “You don’t need to kill him. He won’t bother me again. He knows I have protection now.”

“Bria—”

“Damon, please. I couldn’t handle it if you killed someone for me.” She patted his arm. “You’re the law here. Can’t you kick him off the station or something?”

Damon used the thumb of his free hand to swipe away the wetness on her cheeks. “He made you cry. I could kill him for that alone.”

“You and the other brothers made me cry a lot when we were growing up, and no one killed you.” She squeezed his hand. “It’s just salty water, Damon. I’m fine.”

Damon growled “fuck” under his breath and then shoved her behind him. Then with his blade once again at the Erian’s neck, he leaned down and whispered something to the mercenary.

The Erian’s emotions became so chaotic she couldn’t get a reading on them even when she lowered her mental shields. After several seconds, the injured male nodded. His gesture might’ve shown acquiescence, but his emotions told another story. The chaos had crystallized into rage and retribution.

Maybe Damon should kill…No, she wouldn’t be able to live with such an act on her conscience, even if Damon could.

Besides, she’d be safe within the perimeter of
Hades
. Damon would see to it.

After Damon had turned the Erian over to station security, he turned to her. He grasped her arm and pulled her toward the exit to the central part of the station. “Let’s go. It’s not safe in any of the public areas for you.”

Before they’d moved five steps, the Mason freighter captain approached. He was out of breath, his pale orange skin streaked with blood and purpling bruises from the fight.

“Is missy okay?” He cast a fearful look, first at her and then at Damon. He shot an angry glance at the back of the Erian as he was led away. “That one paid to create a disturbance.”

“He specifically targeted my sister?” Damon growled and turned with his battle-blade at ready. “He’s a fucking dead man.”

Bria pulled on his arm. “Stop. You’ve hurt him. You’re kicking him off the station. It’s over.”

Damon glowered. “He’s going to detention until I determine what to do with him. I’ll also be checking to see if there are any outstanding Alliance warrants against him. Bria…he’s a criminal. I can’t let him go.”