Azul

AZUL

T he fakking Helytelen has done his research. The narcotics spread out on the table are exactly those I was famous for on Glycon.

My supposed reason for leaving, because refusing a mate was worse than being an addict. And I didn’t want anyone following me.

Rossz smiles at me. “Pick your poison, my prince. My wares are at your disposal.”

Most of what he has on show, I can’t metabolize in the same way as the drug in the alcohol—my venom isn’t strong enough. And if I go for the softer stuff first…he’s going to wonder why.

I make a concerted and prolonged inspection of the wares on the table, and finally, Rossz throws himself down on the couch. He’s clearly happy for me to take my time over the inspection, presumably because he is recording the entire situation, and the longer I’m in proximity to the narcotics, the better leverage he thinks he has.

“Anything you want, Prince , I can get for you,” he says languidly.

I turn and level the pulsar at him.

“What I really want, Rossz, or rather what my clients want, is you.”

His lips lift in a half snarl.

“You want to share me with your mate? I could be persuaded,” he says, his eyes narrowing, calculating his odds.

Because my blaster is pretty rather than functional…or so he thinks.

“Nothing so amusing. Quite boring, in fact. I turn you over to my clients, collect my fat fee, and the end.”

“I don’t think so,” Rossz says, moving his hands.

I shake my head and release a salvo of muted plasma bolts which hit the cushions surrounding him with multiple thumps and the scent of burning.

“You can do this the easy way or the hard way.” I waggle the blaster from side to side. “I don’t have any preference.”

“Gakking bounty hunter. I should have known.” He sneers at me. “A prince in disgrace is never going to be worth my time or credits.”

“Yeah, well.” I shrug. “Thing is, I don’t care what you think. I just want to pick up your bounty. So, on your knees, and we’ll get this over with.”

Rossz glares at me for half a nova-second. “You really think you can take me away so easily?” he says.

I fire the plasma into his side. He howls in pain. But these rooms are soundproofed, so his noise means nothing.

I grab hold of his head, checking the plasma wound is cauterized. I’ve specialized in live captures, and I’m not about to change that, even if this particular mark is one of the lowest of the low.

“I lied. I prefer the hard way. If you don’t want to lose a limb next time, I suggest you co-operate,” I tell him as he groans on the floor.

I pull out the bindings, but he’s still attempting to squirm away from me.

“Will you…” I grab a foot in order to pull him back, “just fakking give up.” I pull him towards me.

And I don’t see the mini-blaster until it’s nearly too late. I dodge to one side as he releases a bolt. It hits the table with the narcotics which explodes in a shower of powder and liquid, filling the air with his filth and making us both cough. His next bolt is wild, but it ricochets and slams into my abdomen.

“Fak!” I roar as he scrambles to the door.

I can’t let him out of the room. I can’t let him escape. But the mixture of drugs is making my eyes sting and my scales scratch. My hood is up, unbidden, and my abdomen burns at me.

Through the mist, a wind blows, clearing my lungs if not my head.

“Going somewhere, scumbag?” Jenna’s voice pierces my fog.

There’s the sound of a pulsar being discharged, and the air fills with ionized particles. I rear up, knowing this atmosphere is toxic to my mate and to any young she may yet carry for me. I have to get her and the idiotic mark who thinks he can evade me out of here. I rush the door, grabbing for anything with a pulse and dragging it out.

“What the hell happened?” Jenna demands, holding her long skirt train over her mouth and nose.

At her feet is the mark. He’s bleeding from a through and through pulsar shot to his shoulder, but otherwise he seems to be alive.

“This is fine, this is the plan,” I say, heaving the mark onto my shoulder. I have no pain in my abdomen, which is good. “How do we get out of here?” I ask through the fog which simply isn’t clearing my vision.

“Fuck!” Jenna’s voice is muffled. “What is this stuff? Did you breathe any of it in?”

“Why are you here? You’re supposed to be back at our villa contacting Tisel,” I say, finding my lips don’t quite want to form the words. I suck hard on my venom glands and swallow as much as I’m able to produce.

“Yeah, well, it didn’t look good, so I decided to change the plan, and it’s a good thing I did, or this twat would have got away. Come on!” she exhorts.

I keep up easily with my mate as she runs purposefully through Rossz’s accommodation. I think alarms are sounding, but given there’s a party in my head where only I’m invited, it’s difficult to tell. Finally, we burst outside into the bright sunslight, and my brain goes into overdrive.

“We need to get to the spaceport, now.”

“On it!” Jenna says flagging down some ground transport.

Inside are a surprised looking Tref couple.

“We’re going to need your transport as a matter of urgency,” Jenna says, making the hilt of her pistol obvious in her hand. “Our friend has…partied a little hard.”

The Tref look at each other and scramble out of the vehicle as I heave the unconscious narcotics peddler into the rear. He groans as he hits the floor.

Behind us, there’s a sound I dislike, that of many feet on the ground, too many feet. I have to get Jenna clear of this place.

“Go,” I growl out. “Get to the space port. I’ll hold them off.”