Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

ARI

Tavat’s minion turned the blaster on Ari, never losing his grip on the female slung over his shoulder. “Do not approach,” the male warned.

Ari held up his hands, as if surrendering. He could shift his skin to his stone form, allowing him to resist a simple blast as he rushed the minion. However, such a maneuver endangered the unconscious Carla. Inadvertently injuring the female in an effort to rescue her was unacceptable. If he could not use his strength, he would use his words.

“My friend?—”

“I’m not your friend,” the minion said, cutting off Ari’s very charming overture of friendship.

“Indeed, but perhaps we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

“Not interested.” The minion waved the pistol. Carla’s unconscious form slipped. He nearly dropped the pistol as he caught the female before she fell to the ground.

“I was curious if you could answer a question for me.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“A simple question,” Ari said in his sweetest, most wheedling tone.

The minion’s response came as an energy blast. Bits of pavement sizzled at Ari’s feet, the charged shot eating away at the stone. A shout of alarm went through the plaza, the crowd scattering. It was a roll of dice as to whether any guards would be summoned. Perhaps. The businesses taking advantage of the warm spring night would not appreciate blaster fire driving away customers. He needed to resolve this situation as quickly as possible.

Ari flashed a charming smile. “Your hands are full. You cannot carry two bodies back on your own.”

The minion’s gaze went to the unconscious Nakkoni on the ground. Poppy was a large female, even by the standards of her own people.

“I’ll call for assistance,” the minion replied.

“And have them steal your glory? No, that is not wise.” Ari shook his head. “Give me the human female.”

The minion laughed. “Betraying Tavat is your idea of wise?”

Ari reached into a pocket and displayed a hard credit token. “It is dark. The female is small and clever. She evaded you.”

The male gave up trying to keep Carla on his shoulder. Her body slid down to the ground, slumping against the male’s legs like a discarded doll. The mask, which had been soaked with the sedative, obscured half of her face.

He shifted the blaster from Ari to Carla, just in case Ari had ideas about heroics. He said, “There are witnesses.”

That wasn’t a no, which meant a judicious application of pressure would get the response Ari desired.

“Trivial. Who would take the word of a drunk witness? Tavat will demand surveillance, and all the cameras in this plaza are disabled.” Thanks to Ari having invested in a useful little device. Surveillance footage once put him in a difficult situation, and he vowed to never let that happen again.

“What about the Nakkoni female?”

What about Poppy?

Ari eyed the black slave collar around Carla’s neck. Unbreakable and seamless, the collar shocked the wearer to ensure obedience. As far as tools of oppression went, it was subtle. Slaving was outlawed on all civilized planets, but Reazus Prime wasn’t civilized. The planet provided a haven for those who approved of owning another sentient being. Ari should have been appalled at the slave collar and all it stood for, but really, he could not forgive how tacky it was, as elitist as that made him sound.

The fledgling can leave the nest, but the nest is always home.

Try as he might, Ari could not entirely shed his aristocratic roots. A cuff-shaped device to deliver a shock could be placed anywhere on a body, particularly the wrists or ankles. The only reason to wrap it around the neck was to show ownership and humiliate the wearer. The collar was vulgar, degrading, and tacky.

Ari’s opinion of the female who placed that around Carla’s neck sank too low to consider. He said, “That female is not my concern. Tavat can have her.”

The minion seemed unsure. Ari tossed hard credits at the male’s feet. Now, he was less unsure, but he did not release his hold on the female.

“Tavat wants them both. He is not forgiving,” the minion said. Greed shone in his grubby eyes.

“Tavat only wants this female because she is a toy that belongs to someone else. He will grow bored of her soon enough. But her,” Ari toed the unconscious Nakkoni with a boot, “she humiliated Tavat, and, as you said, he is not a forgiving male.”

The minion made a thoughtful noise.

Ari tossed another two pieces of credit onto the pile. He’d empty his coffers if need be. Tavat was the kind of male who only wanted to possess what others valued, only to ruin it. Buildings, businesses, or people. It did not matter. They were all toys for him to destroy. He said, “The human female hid. You were unable to find her, but you found the Nakkoni female.”

The minion scooped up the credits. No longer leaning against his legs, Carla’s unconscious form slumped down to the pavement.

Ari caught her before she could hit her head. He ripped off the mask. The fabric stank of the sedative it had been soaked in. Elongating his claws into sharpened points, he tore away the collar, letting it fall to the filthy ground where it belonged.

One human rescued.

His wings fluttered in satisfaction. He just might be hero material after all.

CARLA

Carla woke with a killer hangover and the taste of something dead in her mouth. The overhead lights didn’t help. Thankfully, she wasn’t on the floor but a padded surface. Not a bed, maybe a sofa or bench. She rolled to the side, convinced she was about to puke, but nothing came, just a throbbing behind her eyes and a general wooziness from turning too fast.

Tavat’s goon caught her and slapped a knockout mask on her. She touched the area around her nose and mouth, her skin still tacky from the adhesive. The goon also caught Poppy. She refused to panic, not yet, but yikes, this was bad. Maybe end-of-the-line bad.

Slowly, she sat up. Her head hurt, but thankfully, that seemed to be the only ache or pain.

She did a quick physical assessment. She was still dressed—hooray—and her underwear was where she had left it. The dress was torn where the fabric snagged a nail, but that was on her. Her shoes were gone, and the collar had vanished. Its absence felt strange. Carla’s fingers brushed her naked neck. The collar had been deactivated, but it looked real enough. She couldn’t imagine why Tavat would want it removed. Her bracelet remained.

Good. Having her escape plan made her feel like this disaster could be salvaged.

No injuries. Other than the headache and that horrid taste in her mouth, she was fine. In one piece, at least.

Then she noticed the room.

It was a treasure cave. Not a literal cave but imagine every movie scene with the adventurer stumbling into a secret room overflowing with gold and treasure. Tavat’s decorator should be embarrassed by how cliched the room was.

Display cases and shelving lined each wall, glowing with soft lighting. Each shelf was packed with stuff. Expensive stuff. Golden chalices. Gleaming blades. An ancient-looking energy blaster. Necklaces. Lots of necklaces with ridiculously large gems. Paintings were propped up against the shelves. Caskets—she really didn’t know what other word to use—cluttered the floor. Some were opened. One tipped over, spilling the contents across the floor in a confetti of colored gemstones.

Definitely not a holding cell.

Carla swung her legs off the padded bench. A glass of water and two white tablets waited on the table. Yeah, no chance she was taking those. Her shoes, now clean, had been placed next to the padded bench.

Was this a trick? Some cruel test to see what she’d do? Be a good little pet, drink the water, and take the pills? Sitting quietly? Or take that pistol and hope it had enough of a charge left to punch a hole in the door’s lock?

Screw it. The chances of getting out of this alive were slim. Might as well make her captors work for it.

Barefoot, she crossed to the display case with the pistol, stepping around a casket tipped on its side, gold coins spilling across the floor like a pirate’s fantasy. She inspected the case, unable to detect a seam or latch. There was probably a clever way to open it, but she didn’t have the brainpower for clever. Her head was foggy, and she was exhausted.

Carla grabbed a bronze statue of a four-armed female figure with wings from an open shelf. The heft suggested it was solid all the way through. Good. The statue might survive the upcoming violence. Carla didn’t know much about art—that was Poppy’s area of expertise—and she wouldn’t hesitate to ruin a one-of-a-kind piece if it meant her survival, but she wasn’t happy about it. She wasn’t a monster. The world was ugly enough without her destroying beautiful things.

“I’m really sorry about this,” she said, raising the statue, then paused. Smashing glass cases in her bare feet wasn’t her brightest move, thanks to the headache. Luckily, the fog lifted enough for her to slip on her shoes.

Properly outfitted for petty vandalism, she apologized again and smashed the bronze statue against the case. Glass shattered at once, falling to the floor and liberally scattering across the top of her feet.

Carla grabbed the pistol, using it to knock free any remaining shards of glass that could slice up her hand. Controls were on the side of the handle. She studied the symbols, unsure which one was the on switch.

“Do you like it? It’s a prototype.”

Carla jumped, glass shards crunching under the soles of her shoes, and spun around.

The gargoyle leaned against the doorway, his arms folded across his chest. Wings sprouted from his back, conveniently blocking any chance of escape. He still wore the evening jacket and suit. Oh, and that cocky grin.

She raised the pistol and pointed it at him. “It’s not bad. Bit old -fashioned.”

“Good design is timeless, but even batteries wear out. It won’t fire.”

“I don’t know. They made things to last back in the day.” Carla flicked the power switch. Amber lights glowed, albeit dimly. “How about that?”

“I’m Ari, since our introductions were rudely interrupted,” he said, completely ignoring the pistol pointed at him.

This was banter, and she couldn’t even explain it or why she was returning his grin. Lingering brain fog. Had to be. In no way was it because he had a handsome, if inhuman, face. Lots of people were good looking. It didn’t make him anything special.

Just… the way he watched her, like he saw her, not a pet or a toy to possess, but like she was a real person.

Fuck. This planet was awful. She hadn’t felt like a person in so long she was getting flirty with her kidnapper. Time to put an end to this.

“Take me to Poppy, or I’ll put a hole in you,” she demanded.

He stretched his wings. “Put that away before you blast a hole in your foot. We need to inform Miriam that I found you.”