Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
W ell, now. Wasn't that a delightful surprise?
A'rien grinned as the female jumped up and fled deeper into the interior of the island, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her lush white ass. He had always been an ass man, and hers looked absolutely perfect, round and full with a nice little jiggle. His cock, already at half-mast from seeing the rest of that pale slender body waiting for him on the beach, threatened to grow into a full erection.
Not now, he told himself. First, he needed to clean his catch and start it smoking. Then he would have to find her—which wouldn't prove difficult on this small island—and see if she was susceptible to his charms as were most females.
Of course he suspected that was why he had wound up here in the first place, but it was considerably better than the other fate Lord Zalatai had planned for him…
"Food." The guard slammed the metal tray down on the small shelf attached to one wall of the cell.
A'rien didn't bother to move from his position sprawled carelessly on the hard metal bunk.
"What?" he asked mockingly. "No upgrade for my last meal?"
Kharuul shrugged, no trace of sympathy on his brutish face. "Eat or not, I don't care. You're not going to starve to death before tomorrow and cheat us out of an execution."
The guard turned to walk out of the cell, then paused long enough to add a parting shot. "They're not even going to televise it—they decided you weren't important enough."
He grinned and left, the door closing with a heavy thud behind him.
A'rien's smile faded as soon as the door closed behind the male. For once, he didn't have a scheme or a plan or even a wild hope of an escape. The guards might not be incorruptible, but they were loyal enough that it would take more credits than he had to overcome their scruples. The cell was fitted with a Soronzon lock, beyond his ability to override. And even assuming he could escape the cell, make his way out of the heavily fortified prison, and reach the town beyond, he wasn't foolish enough to think that he could make it onto a ship. His only hope would be the desert that lay beyond the city walls, and a quick death by execution seemed preferable to a lingering one of thirst and predators. The reality of what awaited him tomorrow was inescapable.
It wasn't the first time he had miscalculated an opponent's intelligence, but it was going to have the most serious consequences. Allowing himself to be seduced by Lord Zalatai's wife in order to gain the information he needed to steal the plans had been a fatal mistake. He hadn't seen that her pretty, vapid manner hid a cunning greater than his own.
As soon as she realized they would be discovered, she had cheerfully thrown him to the wolves, and now he was festering in a cell, accused of killing her ladyship's bodyguards. No one knew—or he suspected, cared—that Lord Zalatai had killed them himself in his first outrage at finding A'rien in his wife's supposedly sacrosanct bedchamber.
Ignoring the tray of food, A'rien slumped down on his bunk. Would anyone—other than his creditors—even notice that he was gone? He'd been on his own since he was old enough to remember, never part of any community long enough to really become part of it. His few attempts had taught him that the only person he could trust was himself. Most of the time, as long as the credits were in tune, he managed to convince himself that that was enough. Tonight, he'd never felt more alone.
He searched for some happy memories, but all he found were fragments. Pulling a pile of credits across a crowded table, lifting off of a planet just before the authorities found him, a female's naked back silhouetted against a window, a teasing whispered fragrance—all just moments in time.
But they were all he had, so they would have to do. He pulled them closer, trying to lose himself in the details, and sometime before the morning alarm, he fell asleep.
Even before his eyes opened, he heard the sound of the ocean. Goddess, he had missed that sound. Somehow, his adventures over the past few years had always revolved around dry, landlocked places—rich mining colonies like the one Lord Zalatai ruled, or the wealthy planetwide cities deep in the heart of the system.
Why could he hear it now? Was he dreaming?
He reluctantly opened his eyes, expecting to see bare metal walls. Instead, a tall tree dripping long strands of golden flowers shielded him from the sun rising into a brilliant blue sky.
What the fuck?
He sprang to his feet and realized he had been lying beneath a small grove of those trees at one end of a curving wedge of pink sand beach. But he wasn't interested in the land. His gaze focused on the wide expanse of deep purple ocean, a few lines of white froth capping the gentle waves. It stretched out into the distance, unending, and a fierce hunger filled him.
He knew the dangers of an unknown ocean, knew he should explore, test, evaluate, before entering, but he didn't care. He ran for the water, diving beneath the surface as soon as it reached his waist.
Cool, salty liquid surrounded him, a little saltier than on his home planet of Taivan, but well within his tolerances. The gills on his neck expanded, taking in oxygen and filtering the taste of the surrounding water. The webs between his fingers and toes scooped through the water as he kicked, and the dorsal fin along his spine lifted into place.
He rolled and spun in sheer ecstasy, flying through the water as he explored. A small brightly colored fish swam by, and he caught it instinctively. He didn't recognize the species but he didn't hesitate to bite into the delicate white flesh, almost groaning with pleasure. If he'd been offered a choice, this would have been his choice for a last meal.
The thought sobered him, and he turned back towards the beach, easily retracing his path through the water. As happy as he was to have arrived here, he didn't trust his luck. Was this part of some deeper plan? To make the return to his cell that much more torturous?
He wouldn't have predicted that Lord Zalatai would be that devious, but his instincts certainly hadn't been behaving recently.
With unaccustomed caution, he raised only his head above the surface, blinking the water from his eyes as he scanned the beach. It was as quiet and deserted as before. He could hear the soft buzz of insects and some rustling from the undergrowth. A small, brightly colored avian swooped through the trees, but there was nothing to indicate the presence of anything larger.
As he walked slowly out of the water and onto the sand, he noticed for the first time that he was naked. His ornately laced shirt and richly embroidered pants had disappeared during his transport to this place. No matter. While he appreciated a fine wardrobe as much as the next male, the cool rush of water past his bare skin was far superior to any item of clothing.
Still scanning for any sign of danger, he returned to where he had awoken. A roughly woven bag was half buried in the sand. He must have kicked it aside in his race for the water.
Only two items were within—a decent knife, almost as nice as the knives that were taken from him when he was arrested, and a sheet of flex plas, covered with symbols.
He gave it a puzzled frown, then noticed a small trident, the symbol of his people, in the lower corner of the sheet. The symbol was set on an irregular shape surrounded by swirls that reminded him of the ocean… The ocean.
It was some type of map.
He quickly found a second trident, located on the other side of what appeared to be a broad channel separating the island from the mainland. Next to the second symbol was a colored circle that could possibly indicate Taivan.
Was the map supposed to guide him there? He snorted. Even if he hadn't been banned from the planet, he had no desire to return to the abject poverty and harsh memories of his childhood.
No , he thought, looking around at the beach and the ocean and the jungle behind him. This suited him just fine.
He started to discard the plastic, then changed his mind. It was possible that the island would not be capable of supporting life and he would need to leave. In addition, a lifetime of making do with little or nothing had taught him the most things could be utilized, even in ways for which they had not originally been intended. He dug a small hole beneath the tree where he had awakened and buried the sheet.
The knife, on the other hand, could be put to use at once.
By the time the sun set, he had verified that he was in fact on an island. The landmass on the map could be seen across the water on the far side of the island. It still held no attraction for him.
The island contained a source of fresh water not far from his beach and, in addition to the bounty of the ocean, there was a variety of small game in the interior. He had managed to capture a small rodent, roasting now over the fire he had—with considerable effort and some very creative swearing—managed to light.
The smell of roasting meat mingled with the freshness of the sea breeze, the trees swaying above his head as he watched the sun set over the ocean in a blaze of crimson and purple. A smile curved his lips. Perhaps there was a reward for the wicked after all.
Then he had emerged from his fishing trip into the ocean this morning and found a female on the beach. The gods had definitely decided to favor him. As he began to clean the fish and set it to smoke over a low fire, he couldn't wait to investigate his unexpected gift.