“Rone, behind you!” The warning shot out of Frey’s mouth before his brain even registered that he’d done it.
Rone heard him, though, and swung out of the way of the lethal blow and used the other alien’s momentum to take him down. Frey couldn’t appreciate the victory, however. A hard yank on his leash caused him to choke, and he got dragged backward. A vise-like grip on his arm propelled him once more against the wall. His mouth opened in an effort to drag in air while his hand reached up to loosen the collar. He heard a wheezy laugh and his blood froze. Looking up, he faced a leering Arpell.
“There you are. I’ve missed my pet.” The alien leaned down and ran his disgusting tongue up one side of Frey’s face.
Frey tried to avoid the touch, twisting his head away. Arpell’s grip on the leash tightened, cutting off Frey’s air even more and giving him far more to worry about than being covered in Arpell’s stinky spit. God, this couldn’t be happening. Any doubts he’d had about why he wanted to stay with Rone and no one else flew out of his brain in the face of this cruelty. He clawed at his throat, trying desperately to loosen the choke-hold. His visiongrayed and the noises from the fight dimmed to a muffled, tinny echo.
A screech cut through the fog, along with a roar, and suddenly Frey could breathe again. Arpell stumbled back from him, batting at Preen, who had launched itself onto the Travian’s shoulder. Shit. With his concern focused first on Rone, then on himself, he’d forgotten about the creature. Preen’s small yet sharp teeth were sunk into the side of Arpell’s neck. Blood already welled up past Preen’s mouth. Arpell whirled around in an effort to dislodge the pet, while tugging at Preen’s hair. It didn’t take long for the Travian to pull the small being away, even though a chunk of skin came off in the process.
Frey mentally slapped himself into action. He couldn’t allow Arpell to kill the recklessly brave pet. He screamed as he pushed against the wall to gain momentum. “No!”
Frey reached Arpell too late to keep him from throwing Preen to the ground. Furious, Frey cocked his arm back and swung for the Travian’s face. He never got a chance to connect. Arpell intercepted the punch and yanked back. Frey heard his arm break before he felt it—just like he’d read in stories, like a twig snapping in two. The pain came hot on the heels of the sound, a bright searing sensation that caused the world around him to go completely white.
Another roar surrounded him, drowning out his own scream. Then all the light he saw shrank down to a pinpoint before being snuffed out entirely.
Chapter Four
WhennextFreymanagedto open his eyes, he once more saw light. This, though, was more muted. The voices he heard were muffled as well. No more growls or grunts or screams or screeches.
“The healing compound I adhered should finish its job by the time you next wake. I assume it sleeps when you do, and while I don’t know anything about this species, the scans indicate many similarities with our biology. I believe that the medicinals I’ve administered will work well.”
“He’s not in any pain still, is he?” That was a familiar voice, low and harsh enough to raise goosebumps on Frey’s skin.
“He?”
“Mypet.” Now the tone came close to a growl.
“Oh, of course. No, I don’t believeheis. Here are more medicinals to take with you to administer, if necessary.”
Frey moved his head carefully, not sure how much of him was injured and not wanting to put those pain meds he’d heard about to the test, trying to see who spoke. While he’d had virtually no experience with Travian females, he thought it was one speaking. The timbre of the voice was a little higher than he was used to hearing. He couldn’t see her, however, or who she spoke to, although he knew it was Rone. But Preen squatted on what served as Frey’s sick bed, and that’s who Frey focused his blurry vision on. A smile broke out on the creature’s face, and Frey returned the expression.
“I’m glad you’re all right.” It was probably the most openly authentic thing he’d said or even felt since his capture. The idea that the small creature might have risked its life to help Frey only to be killed in the effort made Frey’s heart ache.
“You’re awake.” A large, pale face with endless shiny black where eyes should have been loomed into sight and peered down at Frey.
For the second time in the space of a few seconds, Frey felt relieved. Even though he already knew that Rone lived, he could tell now that the Travian had survived the ambush relatively unscathed. While his tunic was a little worse for the wear, no cuts or bruises marred his skin. He seemed perfectly fine. In an unguarded moment born from the lingering intensity of the attack and perhaps the narcotic coursing through his veins, Frey smiled up at his master.
“I’m glad you’re all right, too.” Something inside him told him he should clamp his mouth shut, turn away and pretend he hadn’t just blurted out that inconvenient truth. Instead, he held Rone’s gaze.
The alien returned the attention, lowering his face closer to Frey. “You may have saved my life, pet. But for your warning, that syk might have ended up buried between my shoulder blades.”
Oh, right. Frey replayed that moment in his mind. Shouting out the warning had been automatic, so had calling Rone by his name. Not master or even “Hey, you.”Rone. Frey liked the sound of it, and saying it out loud for the first time, even in the heat of the moment, had seemed like the most natural thing in the world. The more practical part of his brain chalked it up to a simple survival instinct. After what must have been months of abuse at the hands of Arpell, the relative kindness of Rone had gained Frey’s loyalty, if not affection.
Arpell!
Fear spike through him enough that he actually started to jackknife up to a sitting position. His broken arm was wrapped tight against his chest in a soft sling contraption. It hampered his movement, as did Rone. The Travian placed his large palm against Frey’s chest and gently kept him down.
“Easy, pet. You are in no condition to go running around.”
With a hard swallow, Frey choked out the one word scaring the crap out of him. “Arpell.”
Rone bared his teeth and curled his fingers a bit before relaxing them and his face again. “No need to worry, pet. That male will never hurt you again.”
Beyond Rone, Preen remained perched on the bed. The creature let out a barking sound, clasped its tiny hands around its own throat and made a harsh sound in the back of its throat. Well, no translator needed to unlock the pet’s meaning. Rone had wrung Arpell’s neck. Frey could only feel glad at the news. With the abuse he’d suffered at the alien’s hands, not to mention the murder of the crew he’d served with—people who’d been his friends—he was glad the guy was dead. He only wished he could have seen it for himself.
Frey wet his lips. “Thank you, master.” Maybe in the heat of battle, Frey could get away with calling the male by name, buthe doubted such latitude would be acceptable now. Besides, his gratitude made showing the respect easy enough.
Rone stood silent for a moment, then ran his fingers down the side of Frey’s head. “Thanks is not what I deserve. I should have done a better job of anticipating that Arpell would come after you—and personally.”
