As soon as the guards were out of sight, Baralt headed for a collection of smaller ships. The one he took her to reminded her of her old truck—it was painted blue and white, the colors faded and a little worn, and it had a squat, comfortable feel. The landing ramp was down, but the door at the top was closed and locked. She almost giggled when Baralt pressed something that looked astonishingly like a doorbell. A moment later a voice came from a panel next to the door.
“Who is it?” an impatient voice demanded—an impatient female voice.
“Baralt. Varga sent me.”
“You’re late. We’re about to leave.”
“And I strongly encourage you to do so—as soon as we are on board.”
“You have the credits?”
“Of course.”
“You better be worth it.” The door opened.
Once they were inside the small airlock, the outer door closed, and Izzie fought back a wave of panic when the inner door did not immediately open. A beam of reddish light shone down from the ceiling, washing over them, and she jumped.
“What is that?” she whispered to Baralt.
The same voice sounded from another panel. “Pest control. Just making sure you aren’t bringing any little stowaways along with you.”
She gasped. “We don’t have bugs.”
“And now I know that for sure.”
The inner door finally opened, and they passed into the interior of the ship, Izzie still glaring about the implied insult.
“It’s nothing personal,” Baralt said softly. “Varga said that Captain Glasach has some unusual tendencies.”
“I also have extremely good hearing.” This time, the voice came from a female walking toward them.
Short and a little plump, the captain carried herself with an undeniable air of authority. Her crisp blue-and-white uniform looked as if it had been starched, and her blue fur was neatly groomed, not a hair out of place.
“I am Captain Glasach. You have the second half of the credits?”
Baralt took a small device from the captain and tapped out a number. The device whirred, and Izzie flinched sympathetically when a small needle took a sample of his blood. A second later the device beeped, and the captain smiled.
“Confirmed. I guess we are taking you to Hothrest. This way.”
The captain led them deeper into the ship. Like the outside, everything looked a little worn, but everything was spotlessly clean—almost too clean. At the top of a flight of stairs, the captain slid open a door panel to reveal a small cabin.
“This is yours for the trip. Private sanitary facility attached. Either Kamat or I will prepare one meal per day shift. You’re on your own for the others. Help yourself to whatever you want in the galley and clean up after yourselves.” She looked Baralt up and down. “But don’t overdo it. The food has to last until we reach Hothrest. The cargo hold is off-limits, and so are the crew quarters, but other than that, you’re free to move around once we are in flight. And speaking of flight, I’m going to go get us off this hellhole.”
With a quick nod, she left. Baralt gestured to the cabin door. “After you, my aria.”
Chapter Fifteen
“I’m afraid it’s a little small,” Baralt said apologetically as he followed Izzie into the cabin.
He was right. A bunk occupied one wall, with storage lockers above and below. On the other wall, a small table and two chairs were fitted beneath a viewport. The door at the far end presumably led to the sanitary facility. But despite the limited size, it was spotlessly clean, and she had no complaints.
“It’s larger than I’m used to,” she murmured, remembering her cage with a shudder. “But I wouldn’t care if it was a box as long as we’re leaving.”
As she spoke, there was a distant roar, and she jumped.
“What’s that?”
“The engines. Captain Glasach isn’t wasting any time.”
Izzie felt the metal surface beneath her feet vibrate, followed by a slight sense of pressure. Baralt had his head cocked to one side, listening, and he finally sighed and smiled down at her.
“That’s it. We should be out of the atmosphere now, and the captain hasn’t sounded an alarm.”
“You mean we really did it? We’re free?”
“Yes, my aria. Tgesh Tai is behind us now.”
Too overcome with emotion to speak, she stood on tiptoe and threw her arms around his neck. He responded by lifting her into his arms, and still reeling with happiness, she leaned over and kissed him. His lips were soft and full and surprisingly human—well, except for the sharp fangs that bracketed them—but he didn’t respond to the brief caress. She drew back to find him staring at her.
“What was that?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
“It’s called a kiss. Do your people not kiss?”
“No. Our fangs prevent our mouths from mating like that.”
He still looked shocked, and she could feel her cheeks heat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t upset me. It was remarkably…pleasant. Would you kiss me again?”
A little embarrassed, she leaned forward and brushed her lips across his. He shivered, and a sudden impulse drove her to run her tongue along his bottom lip, carefully avoiding his fangs. This time, he groaned. Thrilled by his response, she took advantage of his parted lips and dipped inside. Oh my. He tasted delicious, and his tongue slipped against hers with silken ease.
He let her play for a second… two… and then he growled and took over. His hand came up to cup her head, holding her in place as he greedily explored—no, devoured her mouth—licking and sucking until she was quivering, rubbing her breasts against him in a vain attempt to ease the needy ache that filled her body. Through the thin silk of her gown, she could feel the damp head of his cock brushing against her folds, and she suddenly wanted nothing more
