That’s when Baraka came barreling down the corridor, brandishing a fucking rocket launcher of all things.
“Get the hell off my ship, Kordolian,” he snarled. “Or I’ll blow you to bits.”
“Not this again,” Rykal groaned, as a resigned expression crossed his elegant features.
“Put it down, Baraka,” Arin said evenly, keeping her gun trained on Rykal. “What do you really think you’re going to achieve by setting that thing off in here? You want all of us to die?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
The old human was jumpy, and he was acting irrationally.
“I’ve already been shot at by one of those,” Rykal informed him. “Hurts like a bitch. It won’t kill me, but it will kill you, and him, andher.”
As soon as he’d uttered them, the words left a poisonous aftertaste in his mouth. The thought of Arin being in such immediate danger raised a powerful emotion in him. He was overwhelmed with the sudden urge to slit the foolish old man’s throat. The desire to kill was so strong that Rykal’s hands began to tremble. It came from a deep, dark place he hadn’t even known existed.
In that moment, he felt that he would destroy Earth and the Universe and even the Underworld itself, should anything happen to her.
Goddess, where hadthatthought come from?
He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself, all the while staring directly at the old man, who was also shaking, but for different reasons.
Maybe Arin sensed his killing intent, because she stepped forward, lowering her gun and placing a gentle hand on the old human’s shoulder. “Not now, Baraka. He’s right. What you’redoing doesn’t make sense. Give the launcher to me, and nobody will get hurt.”
Her voice was soft yet authoritative, infinitely calming, and addictive. If she spoke to him using that tone, Rykal would do anything for her.
She looked at him then, and he found himself lost in eyes of perfect crystalline blue.
Hold, she seemed to say.
Everything froze, and it was as if he were standing on the Vaal again, surrounded by the eternal comfort of the icy, unrelenting wind.
With just a look, she held Rykal’s killing intent at bay.
“Baraka,” Arin said again, her voice barely a whisper. “Give it to me.”
The old man hesitated, but Rykal could sense that his urge to fight was gone. Slowly, the human lowered his weapon from where it rested on his shoulder. It was a long, tubular thing, requiring two hands to support and operate it. It was the same type of weapon that fur-faced human had shot him with back down in the cargo hold.
Arin slid her small bolt-gun into a holster beneath her jacket and took the launcher from the old man. She handled it with ease, propping it up on her shoulder and using one hand to expertly manipulate its controls. A flashing red light to one side turned amber, then flickered off.
“It’s disarmed,” she said, pinning Rykal with a pointed stare. The old man glared at him malevolently, but he didn’t say anything.
His hands were still trembling.
The darkness that seethed inside Rykal slowly withdrew, and rational thought returned to him. He glowered at the human captain and his junior. “Get out,” he snapped, nodding sharply towards the doors. “I need to speak with the sergeant alone.”
“We’re not leaving her alone with the likes of you.” The old man had found his spine again.
“It’s okay, Baraka,” Arin reassured him. “He won’t do anything to me.” She lowered the disarmed rocket launcher, resting its solid base on the floor. The pointed end was propped up against the curve of her hip. The delicious lines of her body drew Rykal’s gaze. A fitted black jacket concealed her arms and torso, but underneath, her legs were encased in a form-fitting black material that left little to the imagination.
He liked this outfit much better than her boring peacekeeper’s uniform.
Arin noticed the direction of his gaze and signified her irritation with a minuscule shake of her head. “Go on,” she said to the other humans. “I’ll be out shortly. If it makes you feel any better, I’ve got this, and I know how to use it.” She tapped the body of the rocket launcher.
Baraka grumbled under his breath, staring daggers at Rykal as he shuffled past, squeezing between the half-closed doors of the ship. His gangly subordinate followed him. Rykal’s sword hand twitched, but he forced himself to be still.
Once again, he suppressed his natural instincts.
“So,” Rykal said slowly, his gaze traveling upwards, noticing the way her suit molded to her body. Her jacket was open at the front, and he caught a tantalizing glimpse of skin at the entrance of her suit, where the black material ended in a vee just between her breasts. “We are in private. You wanted to talk?”
