Even though there was no place for her to escape or hide on the shuttle, he grabbed one of her ankles. The irrational fear that she’d somehow disappear again made him pull her off her seat. She landed with a thump on the floor in front of him.
He moved the rest of himself out of the space. Letting go of her ankle, he covered her body with his. He needed a moment to assess, and he couldn't do that if she was busy kicking him in the face.
She let out a pathetic whimper. “You’re hurting me.”
He was supporting almost all his weight on his arms and legs so it was unlikely that he was hurting her. Still, he lifted a little to check for pressure points his armor might be causing.
The moment he gave her a little room, she tried to wiggle out from under him.
“Be still, or this will get worse,” he growled.
With a little gasp, she stopped moving. She blinked up at him, as if holding back tears. “I’m fragile, please don’t damage me.”
His first instinct was to comfort her, but he stifled it. Except for the little fall from her chair to the floor, he wouldn’t do anything else to her. She was safe, but she didn’t know that, and a little fear might make his job easier. When they got her to a safe place, they’d have time to convince her that they were only here to help her.
Another problem was that being so close to her made it impossible to ignore her feminine scent filling his nose. By the moons, she smelled like something he wanted to lick and savor.
No! Even if she wasn’t as vulnerable as she seemed, he wouldn’t take advantage of her. She had the right to meet many Hissa warriors before deciding who she wanted as a mate.
“If you don’t try to escape, I won’t have to hurt you,” he said. It was hard to get the threatening words out. He felt like a monster, but if it kept her from running and potentially being hurt or being captured by the Kaklans, it was a necessary evil.
Her fearful expression was replaced with sincerity.
“You really don't want me,” she said, speaking quickly. “I’m a horrible slave. I'm venomous. If they try to touch me, I'll bite your customers, and they'll die. You'll lose even more credits than what you spent to buy me. Males on my world have to wear protective armor before they can bed females because we’re so dangerous.”
He snorted at her dramatic warning. “That's a lie.”
“You should move off that female,” a Fielden said to him. “You are very big, and she is small.”
A primal part of him reared up. He glared and growled, making sure to flash a fang at the annoying creature. “Mine!”
There was a sudden scuffle as all the Fielden moved away from the two on the floor and huddled near the front of the shuttle. The female under him made a little sound of reproach.
He looked back down to find her frowning at him. “You didn't need to do that. They wouldn't have done anything except ask you politely.”
He struggled to keep up with her personality changes. In the short time he’d been dealing with her, she’d changed tactics as fast as he blinked. She’d gone from scared and meek to sincere and convincing, and finally her current deep disapproval.
This censure felt like he was seeing the real Nova for the first time.
“And all I did was ask them to go away, impolitely,” Miran informed her. He was fascinated by this human’s fast shifting personality.
“Don’t be impolite. Don’t growl at them. Please? They’re a nice species, and they tip really well. Some of the acts on the Delight rely almost entirely on tips. If you scare them, they might tell their friends not to go to the Delight because there are scary guys with sharp teeth yelling at innocent bystanders.”
He was surprised by her advocacy for the Delight.
“Were you allowed to keep your tips?” he asked.
She gave him an annoyed look. “Of course not. I was owned by the ship, so anything extra I got from my performances belonged to them.”
“Then why do you care about their experience?” he asked, confused by this conversation.
“Because almost all the others who work on that ship need those tips,” she snapped.
“Where’s the meek, fearful human who flinched when the Fozin tried to touch her?” he asked.
Her face went carefully blank. “I'm resigned to my fate.”
“A feral human, captured in the wild at the cost of five dead, is resigned to her fate?” Miran teased. “I find that doubtful.”
