Aletta sat up and lunged for the knife, grabbing it and twisting to plunge it into his abdomen. He gasped, pulling hishand free of his pants and grabbing at the knife, but Aletta—adrenaline coursing through her body—gripped it with both hands and ripped it free. Blood flowed out of the wound, and he looked with disbelief from his gut to her, holding the knife and snarling.
“Don’t ever touch a woman without her consent, you fucker!” She screamed at him, all the rage she’d felt since leaving Earth breaking free. “Fuck the lot of you!” She stabbed him again, losing her grip on the knife as pain shot through her arm.
He crumpled to the floor, and she slid into a space next to the crate, blood covering her. She started shaking and wrapped her arms around her body, gathering the shredded top and pulling it around her as best she could.
Aletta wasn’t aware of the loud bang, nor the blaster fire, as black-clad figures dropped into the shuttle from a hatch in the ceiling. And she didn’t hear the frantic shouts of her name as heavy crates were heaved out of the way.
“Aletta?” She looked up, meeting a concerned lilac gaze. “Let me take care of you.”
She blinked, nodding. And then she let reality go as strong, warm arms wrapped her in a blanket and gathered her close.
CHAPTER 12
GARK
Gark stood, Aletta curled in his arms and had to fight back a wave of anger. She was covered in blood, her top torn completely from her body. She’d been huddled on the floor, initially unresponsive when he’d called her name, but finally she’d lifted her head, her eyes empty of emotion as they met his.
He'd hoped he wasn’t too late, and that she hadn’t been hurt. He hadn’t been there when she needed him. What kind of mate was he that she was abducted and…
What had they done to her?
“Help me, brother.”
Gark turned, his arms tightening around Aletta reflexively, to see a Taurean with a hand held to his abdomen. Blood spilled from between his fingers with every breath he took. Gark looked from where he’d found Aletta and the bloody knife, then back to the wounded figure on the floor. It wasn’t difficult to work out what had happened.
“Why should I help you?”
“The whore stabbed me!” He gasped, more blood running from between fingers that held tight to his wound.
Gark’s eyes narrowed, teeth clenched. “My mate stabbed you for no reason?”
Oh sure. Aletta was fierce, but murderous? No. Not unless she had a very good reason would she do something like stab someone. He knew this without a doubt, like he knew this fucker—he’d picked up some language from his human guest—deserved it.
The Taurean’s eyes widened, and he pushed himself backward as if realizing his error. “I didn’t know she was a warrior’s mate.”
“But it shouldn’t matter, hmm?” Gark took a step closer, matching the pace at which the Lady-cursed bastard who had touched Aletta slithered backward. A trail of blood covered the floor, but Gark couldn’t bring himself to care. “Why should her status in relation to a lowly Gnaggarian increase her worth?”
This piece of Lady-damned scum had decided Aletta was his to do with as he pleased. Gark shook his head as he watched him slide back until his back hit a crate. He sagged, breathing in gasps. Blood foamed at his mouth, and his eyes glazed over.
This one deserved to die. But Gark wasn’t a murderer. He couldn’t kill him in cold blood, as much as he wanted to. So he called back to Vox, who, along with Jarden, was cuffing the rest of the crew, including A’Kar.
Vox finished fastening the cuffs and walked to where Gark was staring down at the Taurean lying in a pool of blood.
“Another one?” Vox asked, squatting down next to the prone form.
“He attacked Aletta.” Gark’s voice was barely more than a growl. He had to get a grip on himself. He’d seen far worse than this and hadn’t been so deeply affected.
“He’s not attacking anyone now.” Vox stood. “He’s dead.”
“Good.” Gark spat on the body, refusing to feel any guilt.
“Aletta?” She didn’t respond, eyes glazed over like she was a very long way away, and Gark’s chest tightened. He had to get her back to The Lady, where he could take her to see Klath, if he was well enough to see a patient.
He wanted to keep her safe, and he’d failed.
Aletta’s head moved on his shoulder, her arms looping around his neck. Gark ignored the warm feeling that flowed through his chest at the trust she showed him.
Jarden approached. “They’re all secured,” he said, gesturing to the tied-up crew who were spitting profanities.
