She tried not to wrinkle her nose.
Full, dangerous lips curved. “You know what it means.”
She nibbled on her lip for a moment. “Can I trust you?”
“No.”
The thing was, a liar would have said yes. “Why not?”
“Your father is the War Chief of all Argentus.” His eyes burned over her body as if he could see beneath her clothes.
“But I’m not the War Chief, and I don’t even like my father.”
He moved his enormous boots, shifting his shoulders. He lifted a brow. “Tell me, what happens if a Vestige and Argenti mate?”
It was an old joke. And not a very funny one. “I didn’t come here to be crass.”
His laugh rippled across the airwaves. “Why did you come, then?”
She held up the knife so he could see it. “For escape, of course.”
His lips curved wider, and white teeth flashed in a predatory grin. “Now I’m listening, amiera.”
2
Honor’s for fools and losers
KLYM LISTENED CAREFULLY to his murmured commands and tucked the knife into his boot.
A few hours later, Spiro removed Torum’s shackles with a dour frown and escorted him to the bathing chamber at rezalpoint. He let him eat and drink, again, with a rezal trained clearly on his chest.
As Torum finished his dinner, Klym tucked the sum total of her possessions in the pockets of her dress. Her travel documents and her treasured holo-cam, which held every last holo-vid and memory she had of her mother. She patted her mother’s pearls around her neck, ensuring they were safe, and told Spiro she’d tidy up after the meal, and in so doing, moved just a shade closer to the prisoner than necessary. Exactly as he’d bid.
Spiro looked surprised and strangely pleased. He probably thought she was softening toward him, poor man.
For a split second, her body blocked his view.
It happened so fast her teeth clashed together and her vision swam. Torum yanked her against the big, rock-solid mass of his chest, close enough for her to smell the woody, spicy, musky smell of his body. His hand fisted her hair, and Spiro didn’t stand a chance. He was too noble.
“I’ll kill her,” Torum purred, and she believed him.
Her insides shuddered.
Rough fingers slipped along her neck, pressing over a vein until her vision darkened and her knees buckled. “Don’t fuck with me, migané.”
Pure dread slicked up her spine at the hateful growl.
Spiro shifted, his boots creaking.
The knife—her knife—hissed as it flew through the air to lodge firmly in Spiro’s throat. She’d barely even felt Torum’s body move.
Spiro dropped to his knees.
SCANT MOMENTS LATER, Klym stared down at her shaking hands as the escape pod pushed off from the main body of Spiro’s ship, one tiny little vessel wading through the infinite colorless void.
Her bones rattled as the thrusters activated, her teeth clattering.
What had she just done? What had she been thinking?
She hadn’t been thinking about anything at all, except escaping and finding her way back to her future-mate. Her real future-mate. Agammo.
She’d never, not once in her entire, dignified life, done anything cruel. Never heartless. Until now.
And the blood.
The blood had been everywhere, spreading beneath his prone body. Her mouth twisted. And Spiro—the wrong man, the future-mate she didn’t want, the one she refused to have—had clutched his hands to his bleeding neck, sputtering. And the look he’d given her as he’d dropped to his knees. A whole lifetime had burned in the true-blue depths of his eyes. Surprise. Accusation. Confusion. Disappointment. Concern. For her.
She hadn’t thrown the knife that landed in his neck. But she might as well have.
She closed her eyes, squeezing her hands into fists, forcing her face to relax from its grotesque mask. She would never get that look out of her head.
Spiro would be okay. He had to be okay. She hadn’t meant for him to get hurt. It was an accident. Surely that mattered, didn’t it? She hadn’t meant to cause any harm.
She’d just wanted to get away. That’s all. Get away, back to Agammo, so they could start a family and she wouldn’t be alone anymore.
“Quit sniffling. It’s annoying.” The deep, gravelly voice of the man who had thrown the knife interrupted her thoughts.
She opened her eyes but refused to look at him, focusing instead through the escape pod’s porthole at nothing but emptiness punctuated by stars too distant to offer comfort. It didn’t help to be reminded that the universe was enormous. And she was small, so small. And home and Agammo and all their dreams were very, very far away.
“I am not sniffling,” she snapped. Was she? Maybe. She wiped at her cheeks. They were wet.
“Good. Don’t.” He leaned back from the console, looking smug.
She breathed through pinched nostrils. “You needn’t be rude.”
The dark pools of his eyes glinted evilly, and his unfashionably long black hair shimmered under the multi-colored lights on the console, the harsh planes of his face almost glowing, and he laughed.
“You didn’t need to hurt him, either,” she said, trying to tamp down the burst of panic at being lost in space with a monster.
“Wrong, amiera. I did have to hurt him.” He propped a black-booted foot on his knee. His head nearly brushed the top of the pod. His elbow bumped against the bulkhead. He took up far too much room. “If I didn’t hurt him, he’d have killed me.”
“You could at least have the dignity to look upset.”
He snorted. “Why would I be upset? I’m happy. Jubilant. He had my hands cuffed behind my back for days. You have any clue what that feels like?” He rolled his shoulders. “I’m free.”
“He didn’t deserve to be hurt like that.”
“It wasn’t personal. It was him or me. Two people. Different goals. Nothing but knives between us. If I hadn’t injured him badly enough to stop them, they’d be coming after us right now. What did you think would happen when you turned on him?”
“I didn’t turn on him. I just wanted to get away from him.”
“Then you ought to
