“Sire Rone?”
“As my ship’s registry says.” Rone’s tone held a note of amusement to Frey’s ears.
The soldier tapped on a tablet in his hand. “You are carrying fabric?”
“As the ship’s manifest says.” Again, Rone acted as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
The soldier’s gazed flicked up and over to Preen before landing on Frey. “If you’re going to bring those things onto the station, you have to leash them.”
“Of course.” Rone kept up his pleasant façade, which seemed to irk the inspector for some reason. A weird dynamic was brewing between his master and these other males.
The head inspector tucked his tablet under his arm. “We need to inspect the cargo.”
“This way.” Rone sauntered toward the cargo bay, opened the door and gestured for the two others to precede him. He glanced at him and Preen.“Such fun.”
Frey understood a lot of what Rone and Preen said to each other using their sign language. They didn’t seem concerned, either, that he did. Rone never admonished Frey when he used it to speak with the other pet. At a time like this, he really appreciated the benefit of being able to communicate in a secret way. His heart thudded, though, as he approached and entered the cargo bay. Because Preen had slipped in, Frey assumed it was okay for him to, as well. The customs inspectors had already opened one of the containers. A sea of black something or other was visible from where he stood. The soldier first ran his tablet across, down and around the container, then dipped his hand inside it, rummaged around a bit before standing back up and resealing it. The other guy did the same thing with other parts of the cargo. Rone stood just inside the door, legs braced, arms folded in front of him. He looked utterly bored.
Sweat trickled down Frey’s back. He couldn’t help being nervous. He knew Rone transported something entirely different from cloth. How those other things were being hidden mystified him. Maybe some containers had legitimate stuff, and the others the illegal stuff. If that were the case, the customs officers looked like they intended to check every single one. Surely they’d find the illegal cargo, and what would happen then? Rone would be arrested or even summarily executed. Preen and Frey would be confiscated, just like the other objects in the ship, then auctioned off maybe? Or, would these Travians get to claim them as some kind of bounty? They both eyed Frey every now and again as they searched, and he didn’t like what he saw in their expressions.
Rone casually moved to Frey’s side and slid his palm down the back of Frey’s head. It was a gesture Frey had become well used to and even liked, no matter that it was kind of like petting a dog. The touch soothed his heightened nerves, and if Rone wasn’t concerned with the search, Frey supposed there was no reason for him to be. He knew Rone was sharp as well as deadly. No way he’d walk into a situation that would bring him down. The head inspector re-sealed the latest container and strode toward Rone.
“All seems in order so far, sire, although I find it strange that a high-caste male would stoop to ferrying merchandise.”
Rone curled his fingers in Frey’s hair, the only sign the question irritated him. Frey made sure to keep his expression the same, even though the grip stung.
“Do you?” Rone leaned forward and peered at the insignia on the inspector’s breast. “Zerith, is it? I would think a male from the Th caste would appreciate industriousness.”
The other male’s nostrils flared. Oh, man, he didn’t like that little dig. Frey hadn’t quite worked out the details yet, but he understood the Travians slotted themselves into some kind of hierarchy. He was beginning to get the idea that Rone came from some rarified part of his people’s society, making it all the weirder that he’d inserted himself into such obviously unsavory commerce. Maybe he fell into the black sheep category of his family and had been kicked out to make his own way in the universe however he could. Or, he might just be a more refined version of the kind of opportunistic thug Arpell had been.
After a few tense moments, the inspector turned his attention to Frey. The gaze made Frey want to squirm. No, run away. He knew that look and any moment now, this guy would say something to Rone about how this irritating inspection of his cargo would stop if Rone gave the customs officers something else to occupy their time with. Then Frey would find himself bent over one of those containers, being plugged at both ends. Ashudder ran down his body. He couldn’t help it. Rone tightened his grip. This time, though, the hold comforted Frey because it felt like a claiming, as if there were no way Rone would let this other fucker touch his pet. The moment Frey thought that, he cursed himself for the rose-colored glasses thought. Foolish hope would crush him. How many times did he have to pound that fact into his thick skull?
“Such an exotic pet you have.” The customs inspector licked his lower lip. “Rifling through the cargo of a male such as you seems like a waste of time. I can certainly think of more interesting things to do.”
Frey’s breath caught in his throat as he waited for Rone to respond. It rushed out again in palpable relief when instead of handing Frey over, he pulled him tightly to his side. He moved the hand that had been petting Frey’s head to Frey’s cheek, stroking his thumb down to brush Frey’s lips. The other male tracked the movements with obvious hunger. Shit, maybe Rone was merely teasing the guy before cementing the deal.
But no.
“Indeed? Please don’t let me keep you, then.” Rone’s tone was silky smooth, and he punctuated his statement by pressing Frey’s face into his broad, hard chest. The leather of the male’s tunic was surprisingly soft on Frey’s skin. He inhaled slowly and deeply, liking the unique smell that was Rone. Alien as it was, the scent calmed him, made him feel safe. He wondered if this was what other Travians detected on him, or did they smell something entirely different, something more frightening?
The customs guy didn’t look happy at that response. With a huff, he turned and resumed his search. It took a long time for them to check out all of the cargo, at least it felt that way to Frey. There weren’t more than two dozen containers and none of them were more than three meters by three meters. Yet, the Travians spent a lot of time going over them, all multiple times withtheir scanners and manually. Finally, they finished. The junior guy left the cargo bay immediately, while the more senior one returned to glare at Rone. He stuck out his tablet. “Your mark here, sire.”
Rone lazily extended the forefinger of his free hand and pressed it against the tablet.
“Don’t forget to keep those things leashed at all times, or I’ll be forced to confiscate them.” With that parting shot, he strode out.
Although Frey could have sworn Rone had been unconcerned with the search, he realized he’d been wrong. Pressed as he was up against his master’s body, Frey couldn’t miss how it relaxed the moment they were alone. His surprise increased when he felt a pat on the top of his head before Rone released him.
Rone turned to Preen.“I’ll order up transport for the containers. I’m going to want you to stay with the ship.”
“With the boy?”
“No, he comes with me,” Rone said aloud.
“He’ll be safer staying here.”The small creature’s hand gestures were bold and slashing.
Bending over, Rone got right in his pet’s companion’s face.“With. Me.”Issuing a screech, Preen scampered off. Rone shook his head then stepped back to Frey. He reached out and, cupping the back of Frey’s head, pulled him in close. Frey’s heart skipped a beat at the fierce look in his master’s face. “You will stay as close to me as a third appendage would. Are we clear on that point, pet?”
“Yes, master.” Hell, yeah, he was abso-fucking-lutely clear on that point. Wishful thinking or not, Frey felt safer plastered against Rone than anywhere else.
