Asshole.
I threw my entire glass of untouched merlot in his face and walked out the door.
Once in the corridor, I turned on my heel and walked back the way I had come. I was surprised to realize I’d already memorized the layout of the ship and could easily navigate the path from our quarters to the medical room—or should I say prison cell, to the cargo hold, crew’s personal quarters, command center, as well as the transport station. Benefit of a small ship.
Safely inside my pink and gray hell, I pulled the drawings the commander had spent so much time studying out of the storage drawer, rolled them up tight and tucked the paper tube under my arm. Time to go have a talk with the prisoner.
In less than five minutes I stood facing off with Warlord Razmus. He stood, his back to the door behind which, I now knew, was a Prillon warrior who refused to give up on his sister.
“Get out of my way, Raz.”
“My lady, I cannot—”
“Get. The-fuck. Out. Of. My. Way.” I’d come back with an ion blaster if I had to. I had full access to the S-Gen system, including weapon synthesis. Never thought I’d use it, but I would, if I had to. Next time I saw Queen Jessica or Prime Nial, I was going to give them bear hugs. She’d pleaded our case and he’d understood. We needed to feel safe and in control, know for a fact that no one could ever lock us up with a verbal command. I had the highest level of access there was, except for the Prime’s family and closest advisors. Higher than anycommander’s.
I’d never been more grateful.
I didn’t turn around when I heard footsteps behind me, just held Raz’s gaze. “Let her in. She knows everything. And he won’t hurt her.” Kayn walked up to stand just behind my shoulder. “If nothing else, he is an honorable male. Maybe he’ll talk to her.”
The Atlan shook his head, then moved out of the way. “This is a mistake. Helion will have our heads.”
They were talking about my mate, the fabulous, sexy,protectivecommander I’d spent the last three days fucking non-stop. I’d trusted him because I’d believed he was something he clearly wasnot.
The door to the small, metallic room opened. I stepped past Razmus, stopped with my back blocking the entrance so they wouldn’t immediately follow me inside, and issued my command. “Authorization Willow Baylor, Prillon Prime.” The ship made a slight pinging noise to acknowledge I’d been heard by the system and the ship was listening. “Lock the door.”
The door slid closed and sealed behind me. There he was, naked once more, perched on the edge of the hard metal platform that I’d assumed was a bedding area. A gorgeous Prillon warrior. Still—large—everywhere, not that I was looking. Okay, only a peep. Still too skinny, cut up and bruised. Were those new cuts? What the hell had they done to him? It had been three more days.Three days.While I’d been wrapped in a silk robe and sleeping in a new, big bed, having sex. And more sex.
Worried about silly nightmares like a silly little girl.
No. Stop it. Guilt spiral. I couldn’t go there. Deep, dark rabbit hole with no bottom. I’d fall and fall and fall, likeAlice in Wonderland, but I’d never find my way home. Not that I had a home. Not after this.
Damn it. I walked to the S-Gen machine and set the rolled up plans down to rest against the wall. “Coalition uniform, Oberon Arcas, Prillon Prime, include boots.” I tapped my foot with impatience as the small device took several minutes to produce the clothing and boots. Apparently, a—I looked at the insignia on the uniform’s chest—pilot’s uniform was much more complex to create out of thin air than pajamas.
God, I’d been so stupid that day, walking in here, thinking I was playing queen of the manor.Oh, dahlings, pweese get the pretty man some food and a blankie.
Disgusting. I wanted to scream at myself for being so naïve, so trusting. So blind.
Keeping my face turned away so I wouldn’t stare at his body, I held out the clothing.
“What are you doing, my lady?”
“Is it true? Is your sister inside that Hive base? Their prisoner?” I shoved the pile of clothes at him again, shaking them in midair so he’d take the hint.
“Yes. I believe it to be so.”
“Helion and the doctor think she’s dead.”
“So they have said.”
“You don’t believe them?”
“A convenient lie. I will believe it when I see her corpse.”
That was my kind of protective. “How old is she?” Breeding age, I was sure, but I wasn’t sure what that meant for Prillon females.
“Amalia is twenty and six.”
Shit, she was younger than me. Amalia. Pretty name. I wondered if she had the same gorgeous coloring as her brother. “How long have they had her?”
