Black Legacy: Black Opals, Book 1 Page 6
“I’m on a spy hunt. Captain Sen asked me to question the slaves from escape pod Alpha.”
Rork stiffened slightly. This could get ugly.
Tia nodded. “Well, get on with it.”
The questioning went quickly, at first. The new slaves were too frightened to do more than answer the Coian to the best of their abilities.
But Luble grew increasingly agitated as each slave was dismissed, and when he came to a tall, brown-haired human, he seemed to snap, burying his blue fist in the man’s stomach. The human fell to his knees, choking from the pain.
Rork barely restrained himself from attacking the Coian. He took a step, but Kaber’s hand on his arm reminded him where he was. She gave him a warning look.
“I am going to get some answers,” growled Luble as he paced in front of the slaves. “Or someone’s going to die.” He grabbed the kneeling man by the shoulders and kneed him in the groin. He slid to the floor, but Luble wasn’t finished. “You’re the spy! Admit it!”
Anger and fear burned in Rork. What could he do? If he stepped forward, he would be killed. But if he didn’t, an innocent man might be beaten to death before his eyes.
Luble kicked the human on the floor. As the man cried out, Rork made his decision, but before he could shrug off Kaber’s meaty hand, Tia spoke. “That’s enough, Luble.”
The Coian turned to Tia. “What are you? A spy lover now? You were awful cozy with that Union scum Captain Sen flushed into space.”
Rork’s eyes flashed to Tia’s face. The man the other pirate was talking about could only have been John.
“Tia wasn’t even here when that happened, Luble,” Kaber interjected.
“Oh, yes,” Luble sneered. “You were off on one of your convenient little ‘trips’.”
Tia’s voice was calm. “My father ordered you to question the slaves, not kill them. Dead men don’t turn over spies and they don’t run engines, or bring in any credits either.”
“Your father’s not here now.”
Tia tilted her head. “Are you challenging me?”
Luble turned, as if backing down, then spun back, a laserblade glowing in his hand. He cut a streak of blue fire in the air. “Yes!”
Rork held his breath.
Tia leaned back out of the way of the blade and it went skimming past. A laserblade appeared in her hand. “Good. I was hoping you would.”
The slaves scattered out of the way. Kaber dragged Rork, his heart thudding madly, back against the pipe-lined wall.
“Get him, Tia!” she called, as Tia dodged Luble’s second laserblade thrust, a lithe blur of lean strength and flying blonde braids. She grinned, white teeth flashing in the inadequate light, but it was more of a primitive baring of teeth.
She was magnificent.
Luble thrust again, but Tia was ready. In the blink of an eye, she blocked up with her forearm, forcing his knife hand high into the air. Sliding her arm behind Luble’s elbow, she managed to lock his arm. His weapon out of play, she brought up hers and placed it at his throat. The blue light cast by her blade turned the Coian’s face into a grotesque skull. He turned his head aside, but didn’t speak.
“Yield or die.” Tia moved her blade closer to the artery pulsing in his neck.
Luble met her eyes with a flash of hate, before looking around the room. “I yield,” he muttered at last.
Tia scooped his laserblade off the floor and slipped the weapon in her pocket. “You can tell my father I’ll do the questioning from now on.”
Luble, still breathing heavily from the fight, nodded shortly, then left.
Tia looked about the room. “Get back to work. Kaber, can you take over?”
“Aye.” Kaber nodded.
Tia gestured toward Rork. “Ren, come with me.”
Neither of them spoke as they made their way back to Tia’s cabin, and Rork was infinitely conscious of the sound of Tia’s breathing and the warm smell of exertion that hovered around her.
When the door to the cabin slid open, Tia headed into the bathroom. Rork glanced at the open door to the corridor, fingered the collar he wore and closed the door. There would be other, better opportunities to escape.
The hiss of the shower abruptly flooded the room. The Tiger was only equipped with water showers, and Rork fought off the image of soapy water flowing over the perfect body he knew was beneath Tia’s clothing. Rork heard a sensual groan over the sound of the water, and his body hardened as his imagination wandered into forbidden territory. In his mind he could see the pink nipples that crowned her full breasts, firmed by the brush of her hands as she washed. Water, glistening on creamy skin, as it followed the concave curve of her belly down to a golden tuft of hair. Unable to stop himself, he visualized joining her in the tight confines of the shower stall. He could see himself standing behind her, cupping her breasts in his hands, licking beads of water off a satiny shoulder.
Another groan met his ears, but it wasn’t hers. He wrenched his mind away from his fantasy. His breath was coming in staccato pants and he ached with desire.
The water shut off and when she emerged several minutes later, he was almost composed. That composure was sorely tried when he realized she hadn’t dressed in the bathroom as had been her practice since he’d been there. She wore a light, silky, blue robe that clung to each curve of her damp body. Her braids were water-darkened and highlighted the ivory skin of her face. She held a tube of something in one hand and a large adhesive bandage in the other.
She moved to the bed, sat on the edge and extended the tube to Rork. He took it. “Put this on my back,” she said, and allowed the back of the robe to slip down, revealing first one sleek golden shoulder and then the other, exposing almost her entire back. She held the robe closed over her chest with one hand and used the other to sweep her hair to the side, baring her nape.
Rork gasped. He had expected to find healing flesh, but what he saw rocked him to the core. There were fresh stripes, but instead of being laid on lustrous, healthy skin, as he had thought when he’d seen her back the day she’d been whipped, he could see they overlaid dozens of old scars, some still puckered and red, others silvery with age.
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