Chapter One
“Howmuchisthebuy-in?” Rone kept his face neutral, cool and disinterested, as if the answer made no difference to him. He’d been watching his quarry fleece idiots from their credits all evening by cheating at quaz.
The privateer, a male going by the name of Arpell, took his time to respond. Arrogance radiated off him like a stench. While most others in the disreputable male-only relaxation center set in the middle of a far-flung minor space station were likely impressed by the gambler’s name, Rone wasn’t. He doubted the male truly came from the caste his name implied. Out here, no one really looked too closely at someone’s pedigree. You could be anyone you wanted to be, pretend as much as you liked. Rone counted on that ability.
“Five hundred credits,” the guy finally barked out. He trained his beady eyes on Rone.
Mother, the male disgusted him and not only because of the cheating and the dubious work the male did. He was also layered in fat, an almost unheard of condition among males of their species and a testament to how much time the gambler spent sitting in his dirty clothes in the rank corner of the place. On a female, extra weight would have been lush and alluring. On a male, it spoke of slovenliness. If Rone weren’t so sure of the intel he’d gleaned through contacts around the Empire, he would never have suspected this guy was part of a sophisticated arms smuggling operation.
It didn’t matter what the cost of playing was. Rone had credits to spare, courtesy of the government. He waved his wrist unit over the credit register on the wall and sat down on the less than clean pillow across from his opponent. Like the other male, Rone had a role to play in front of everyone else. He’d cultivated his own persona of a privateer out only for himself, no one to fuck around with. As he sat, the leash attached to his belt tugged tight, forcing Preen to follow and sit on its haunches next to Rone.
Rone hated treating his companion with such blatant disregard, but that was also part of the game he played. Preen understood. It hadn’t taken long for Rone and the former pet of his mating sister to form an alliance born of loneliness and, on Rone’s part, grief. They communicated through mostly hand signals that, again, they’d developed themselves, although Preen understood much of what Rone spoke. The noises that Preen made didn’t translate into Travian at all, yet, after a while, the meaning of each sound had also become clear to Rone. Their hand signals allowed more sophisticated communication, however, with the added advantage that no one else understood their meaning.
Before the game began, Rone glanced to the far side of Arpell. Sitting in a tight ball was the male’s own pet. Rone recognized the species immediately—a human, a male one at that. Had to be. Even in this backwater place, no one would allow a female pet to be kept openly. With its face hidden within its arms, Rone couldn’t see the creature much at all. A curtain of long hair the color of bright starlight covered its head and fell over the arms wrapped tightly around small knees. Rone knew from his experience with his former house brother’s pet that humans didn’t tolerate Travian temperatures very well. Poor beast. Life with Arpell must be a misery, not that Rone had time to dwell on any sympathy he might feel for the human. He had a job to do.
Grabbing up the quaz pieces strewn before him, he nodded to Arpell. “First move to the dealer.”
The male regarded him with barely bridled glee, expecting Rone to be the next easy victim. For a time, Rone allowed himself to be just that, losing a few games and lots of credits. He pretended not to see the sleight of hand, moving pieces out of turn and substituting them with better ones. The effort, while impressive, was not hidden from his keen vision. The other players had either been stupid or chemically compromised—or likely both.
He shook his head over his latest loss and swiped in more credits, as if the large amount he’d already wasted didn’t concern him in the least. It got the attention of others in the place, one of the points to the game he played. Whoever supplied arms to the rebellion that still percolated within the Empire needed to notice him.
“You are a worthier opponent than I typically encounter,” Arpell said, leaning back. His meaty hand pawed at his pet’s head. A barely visible tremor ran through the boy’s body.
Rone hardened his heart to the sight and concentrated on his mission. “I’m new to this station.” He glanced arounddismissively. “So far, this game is the most interesting thing I’ve encountered here.”
Arpell huffed out a laugh and made the next play. As with before, Rone let himself be cheated time and again. Then, having sufficiently lulled his quarry, he made his move. Arpell might be very good at cheating, but Rone was better. The look of surprise on his opponent’s face when Rone outmaneuvered him gave Rone the most satisfaction he’d felt in a very long time—since his mate had died, except he wouldn’t think of her or of the child she’d lost, along with her life. He didn’t allow any emotion to show in his expression. He simply continued his campaign of winning.
Arpell knew Rone had cheated. He could see it in Arpell’s eyes, yet what could he do? If he called Rone out on it, he’d open himself up to the same accusation. With so many others avidly watching their game, a quiet confrontation would be impossible. Rone didn’t want one, anyway. What he wanted was a pissed-off Arpell, in the hopes that he could leverage that into information when Arpell made a move against Rone. He would, too. All of Rone’s intel on the guy said that he was a smuggler, privateer, outright thief and a killer when crossed. Rone certainly hoped so. Physical fights had become a handy outlet for his anger and grief.
The crowd around them grew larger the more Rone won. He made sure to lose a few, as well, so that his winning streak wasn’t completely unbelievable. Eventually, though, he’d gained all that he’d lost and so much more. Arpell sneered down at the game pieces when Rone placed the winning one yet again. The male grasped the strands of his pet’s hair once more, the only sign of his distress. A small sound reached Rone’s ears, a whimper perhaps, although it was so faint that he almost thought he’d imagined it. Almost. He couldn’t afford to be distracted, however.
Picking up his pieces, he raised an eyebrow at Arpell. “Another round?”
Arpell licked his lips. “Your luck has certainly changed.”
Rone leaned back on one hand while he rolled the pieces in the other. “It has. I seem to have stolen yours from you.” The threat hung between them. If Arpell entertained the idea of calling Rone a cheat, he’d be on the receiving end of the same accusation. “If you wish to end the game…” He moved, as if intending to stand.
“No,” Arpell barked out. “I feel my luck will return. It’s only that you have temporarily cleaned me out of credits.”
Rone was willing to bet he’d taken just about all of them. “Then we can’t continue,” he replied, lacing his tone with a modicum of regret for the benefit of the onlookers. Once more, he began to rise.
“Wait. I have something I can bid.” When Rone merely stared back at him, Arpell shifted his gaze briefly to his pet. As he did so, he also tugged the boy’s head up by its hair.
A delicate face came into view, young and so beautiful that for a moment Rone believed he’d been wrong about Arpell keeping a female pet. But no, this was a boy with skin as pale as any Travian. When it… No, whenheraised downcast eyes for just a moment, Rone caught a glimpse of ice blue ringed with white—and fear, before it was quickly banked and the gaze dropped again. Arpell’s brutal grip kept the human’s face up, though, on display. There were murmurs in the crowd and some lewd remarks.
“I don’t understand,” Rone said slowly. “Are you intending to offer your pet as a wager? If so, I’m not interested. I already have a pet.” He gestured toward Preen, who still sat quietly by his side. The little alien had endless patience.
Arpell’s expression turned nasty. “Ah, but mine is better. You can fuck it, and it knows how to suck cock. I’ve trained it very well, if I say so myself.”
Laughter broke out and more rude observations were made. Rone ignored it all, as he did Preen’s hiss. Rone knew that sound, and it meant his companion was pissed off. Small as it was, Preen could be dangerous when provoked. Rone entreated it to silence with a subtle gesture. He needed to consider this turn of events. His simple plan to provoke Arpell and gain notoriety hinged on beating him soundly and taking as many of his credits as possible. If Rone didn’t continue to play, another male would take his place. He could already see the speculation in some of those around them. The idea of owning such an exotic and enticing pet would prove too tempting. No one would win the boy, of course. Arpell would see to that. He’d rack up more winnings, and all of Rone’s efforts would have been for naught.
“Very well. I suppose it’s pretty enough. If nothing else, I could sell it. Your move first.”
Arpell released the boy then leaned forward. “No, I insist the first round is to you.”
Idiot.He thought to gain an advantage by seeing Rone’s opening gambit and reacting accordingly. Rone could already see the extra pieces moving their way down the male’s sleeve. Really, Arpell’s cheating was amateurish compared to others—compared to Rone’s. The male was too full of himself to even realize Rone had maneuvered his extra pieces where he needed them while they’d talked. Winning would be easy. He just had to make it look hard.
“No!”
