Furious cawing rent the night sky as he dropped the box in the entryway and disappeared into the darkness.
Rezal blasts and angry screeching.
8
Mad, amiera?
TOR LIFTED THE BODY bag into his arms and carried Jasto down the passageway toward the cabin Klymeni had slept in the night before. The ship’s cold air dried the sweat on his back but did nothing to cool his temper.
He was shaking, every muscle in his body, and the shaking had nothing to do with physical exhaustion.
He’d never hurt a woman in his life, but he was sorely tempted. If she were a man, she’d already be dead.
He lowered the torn vacubag, with its slashed-up, mutilated corpse on the bed in the bunk that had once been Jasto’s.
There could be no open funeral now. His wife would be denied a final look at the man she’d loved.
Klymeni hovered in the passageway behind him.
He rounded on her, panting with the effort to control his fury.
She recoiled.
He stalked toward her, his boots echoing in the silent ship, and she backed away, shaking her head fast.
“Are you out of your mind?” He hissed, closing his hand around her neck, and backing her up against the wall of the passageway, hard enough that her teeth chattered. “You nearly killed me. And what the fuck am I supposed to tell Jasto’s wife?”
“Y-you p-p-promised not to hurt me.”
He loosened his grip on her neck.
“I’m s-s-sorry.” She sank her little nails into his wrists, trying to loosen his grip. “You just made me so mad.”
His fingers tightened against his will, lifting her higher. “Mad, amiera?” he hissed. “You don’t know the meaning of the word.”
Her eyes widened, her hands clutching at his wrists, fumbling to get him to loosen his grip.
Slowly, he relaxed the pressure, grabbed a fistful of her hair, and hauled her down the passageway to a supply closet that held a spare length of rope. Always handy, rope. He grabbed a length on their way past.
“W-what happened out there? What was that?”
He propelled her into the galley, holding her by the scruff of the neck with one hand. “I’ll show you.”
A frown appeared between her dainty brows, and she kept on tugging at his hands, making pants of frustration. He kept his grip on her hair iron tight as he pulled her down the passageway. She stumbled along behind him.
The force field was still in place, creating a nice twenty-foot area that the birds couldn’t touch. But beyond it, they tossed about bits of Jasto and pecked at the blood-soaked dust.
Carnage.
“You see that?” He held her firm by the back of her neck, his hand tightening, shaking. “Those are the bits of Jasto I didn’t manage to collect. They’re feasting on him. That’s his hand over there. And if you look closer, that mess is what’s left of his kidneys.”
She shook in his grip, twisting, trying to get free.
The birds cackled and cawed.
“You did that,” he roared. “You fucking did that. That’s on you!”
“Please! I’m sorry,” she shouted, bucking against him, but he held her still, let her see the red eyes, the sharp beaks, the razor talons.
“Can you fly a ship?” He shook her by the neck. “Can you?”
“N-no. No! I c-can’t.”
“Then we would both be dead.”
Finally, when there was nothing left and the birds returned their sights to the force field and the ship, launching their bodies against it in a chorus of metallic thuds, he tugged her inside, grabbed the force field projector and pulled the hatch shut.
Birds hit the porthole with wet thuds.
She stopped moving, hanging in his grasp, shaking.
Disgusted with both of them, he dragged her, pale-faced, down the passageway to his cabin. Shoved her down on his bed with a rough hand to the small of her back, the shirt hiked up around her thighs as she kicked out with her feet. She landed a kick to his shoulder. Growling, he grabbed her wrists in his hands and dragged her arms over her head, holding them tight with one hand.
“You have pushed me beyond reason, woman.”
She shook while he tied her hands together and lashed them to one post of the bed. The whites around her eyes were clearly visible, mouth open, but soundless.
“If you make a sound, if you move a muscle, if you so much as twitch...” He lowered his mouth to her ear, voice almost a whisper. “I swear on all the gods, Klymeni, I will not be responsible for what I do to you.”
Her breasts heaved beneath the shirt she wore. His shirt. His thin shirt. Everything she put on was practically see-through.
“Nod so I know you understand me.”
She nodded, jerky and fast, breath gushing out.
He patted her cheek and rose to his full height, studying her.
Engine oil, sweat, and now blood stained her cheeks and neck where he’d touched her.
He traced a finger down the valley between her breasts, smearing blood on the shirt, watching her lips quiver. She squeezed her eyes shut.
He was filthy. He yanked his shirt over his head.
He’d never been aroused before while this pissed off, or by a scared woman, nor yet by one who was tied up, but there were firsts for everything.
When he dropped his pants, her gaze dropped lower, terrified eyes settling on his swollen, pulsing cock, as angry as the rest of him.
“Please don’t, please, I... you can’t,” she cried out.
“What did I say about talking? You locked me out of my ship.” His voice was hoarse. “Jasto’s body just got mangled. What did you think would happen?” His voice sounded far calmer than he felt. “I told you not to speak. You did. So, I will gag you.” He grabbed a pair of socks from his closet, pulled one free and shoved it into her mouth.
She made muffled noises around the make-shift gag, tossing on the bed, feet kicking as she
