Captive of Pleasure; the Space Pirate's Woman (The LodeStar Series) (28 page)

“Hush,” she’d hissed. “They may hear you. We mustn’t offend anyone. We’re visitors here.”
 

“Hush me with a kiss, my lady.”

But she’d shaken her head, feeling only irritation for his poor manners. They were here to observe and learn, not gawk.

Zaë flinched as the now predictable pain seared through her temples. With a groan, she bent her head to her knees, one hand pressed to her forehead.

“Better get her a gesic,” Dano said, his voice worried. “Relax, girl, and get those hands out of your hair. You’ll undo all my work.”
 

They fussed over her, Ringi pressing a gesic pad to the back of her neck. In seconds, Zaë sighed with relief as the medicine worked, soothing away the pain.
 

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. She felt as if she were crippled.

“It’s the drugs,” Ringi said. “I’d bet on it. Just relax, you’ll be okay.”

Sitting there surrounded by these friendly women and Dano, the little ones playing at their feet, Zaë wanted to let herself believe it was true.

But suddenly her plan to force her memories didn’t feel quite so wise or safe. Maybe she was better off in blissful ignorance. Safe and isolated here in this camp, surrounded by warriors who protected their own, and the man who led them.

Chapter 17

Mulos Vadyal’s legitimate business was a casino floating just outside Frontiera’s legal airspace. The Pleasure Planet’s displays were visible as soon as they cleared Frontiera’s atmosphere. Out here, the sun still blazed to the east, but there were no dense air particles to reflect its light, so the skies were black as velvet.
 

The casino’s laser light displays mimicked fireworks exploding, the multi-hued lights fountaining up like solar flares. As they neared the port docks, a display of faux asteroids, jagged and black, had them all ducking.

“That shit is not funny,” Haro muttered, relaxing his white-knuckled grip on the controls.
 

“Agreed.” Joran watched the dock ahead grow larger as the cruiser slowed. “Pede, you there?”

“Here, boss. We’re two cliqs away, locked and loaded. Be there in less than a minute if you need us.”

“Good. Hold your position.”

“Got it. We, uh, have an escort too.”

“Huh. How many?”
 

“Five, by my count. Mecham and Arc followed us from camp, the others joined them a few cliqs out.”

The cruiser turned and lowered toward the massive platform of the dock.

“Pede, you have a comlink open with them?” Joran asked. He did not have a good feeling about this.

“I do.”

“Then you want to remind them I informed them what we’re up to today, and that they should stay the fuck away?”

“I’ll remind them, all right,” Pede said.

“Good.”

“So glad Arc is along for this soiree,” Haro said, feathering the controls delicately. “He’d love an excuse to blast us all to smithereens.”

“Nobody better be blasting,” Joran pointed out. “At least until we’re prepared. Blow a hole in this floating trash pile, we don’t know where the air-locks are. I don’t want to be space walking, even on a fine day like this one.”

Qala blew out a breath behind Joran. “Now you’ve got me checking my oxygen mask again.’

“We’re good,” he said. “Best equipment credit can buy.”

“Only we didn’t buy it, right?” Haro pointed out with a crooked grin.
 

“We didn’t steal it. This stuff is LodeStar’s finest. I don’t trust our personal safety to stolen equipment.”

“Good point. And...we’re in.”

The cruiser settled onto the platform, and to their right an aperture opened. Under the cruiser, treads rolled, gliding them into a docking bay.

“And why are we in?” Haro muttered. “Instead of out there surveilling with Pede?”

“Scared?” Qala taunted.

“Hells, yeah,” he retorted. “I’d feel better if we weren’t walking straight into who knows what kinda trap.”

“We’re here because we can’t very well make Vadyal believe we’re gonna laser off a chunk of his trade if we’re afraid to even walk into his place of business,” Joran said. “So put your swagger on and keep your doubts to yourself, or stay on the cruiser. Your choice.”

Haro sighed. “You know I’m with you all the way. Just shakin’ the willies out, I guess.”

“All right, as long as you’re done.”

“Welcome to the Pleasure Planet,” a breathy voice cooed. A beautiful woman in a low-cut gown waved at them, her eyes and teeth sparkling eerily as she undulated from side to side. “Please wait until the airlocks have been activated before disembarking.”

“Now that’s creepy,” Var noted. “Even if she does kinda look like Ilya.”

Haro snickered. “Best not tell Ilya that. She’ll have your guts for garters.”

There was a short silence. “What are, uh, garters?”
 

Haro shrugged. “I dunno. Heard that on one of those ancient vids from the Earth archives. How about she’ll use ‘em for a new belt? You get that?”

Var chuckled. “My baby is good with a blade. And she was pissed she didn’t get to come along today.”

“Aw, you can sweeten her up when we get back,” Haro said.

“The droid’s ears kinda resemble Ilya’s too,” Qala said. “Pointy.”

“Right.” The four of them exchanged a look. Everything they said from here on would no doubt be surveilled. “But, is she a droid or a holovid?”

“Grab her ass and find out,” Qala suggested. “She’s a droid, you may get your hand sliced off. But if she’s a holovid, you’re safe.”

“Kind of the same reaction a man gets when he touches you, in other words,” Haro shot back.
 

The cruiser hatches opened with a smooth hush. Joran gave the bickering pair a look, and they subsided, Qala scowling, Haro with a guilty smirk.

They were escorted from the docking bay to the meeting room by armed guards. Ex-military, from the look of them.
 

“Surrender your weapons,” demanded one.
 

Qala declined for all. “The Storm doesn’t give up his weapons for anyone.”

The other guards turned as a Gorglon stalked down the corridor. He smiled at them, not a sight Joran wanted to see again. Gorglons had seriously ugly teeth.
 

“
Lay danah hola paanah,”
he husked. His voices sounded as if he was dredging it up from a deep hole over the edges of an asteroid. “Let them keep their puny weapons.”

Haro opened his mouth, and Joran shook his head once. Last thing he needed was for the hot-headed pilot to inform the Gorglon, and anyone listening, that they had plenty of heavy fire-power waiting for them a few moments out.
 

“Right.” Haro bared his teeth back at the Gorglon. “We’re all friends here.”

The Gorglon laughed, or maybe he belched. Hard to tell. He turned and led the way along the wide corridor.
 

More holovids beckoned them along with seductive smiles, these a chorus line of girls in little coats and spangled tights, tall hats perched on their perfect hair.
 

They passed a huge pit hazed with sweet hookah smoke-steam, and glittering with displays from hundreds of gaming tables and machines. Beings from many planets drank bright, jewel-toned substances from tall beakers as they watched their chosen games with feverish intensity. Scantily clad prostitutes hung on them, with glittering cosmetics and smiles as fake as their augmented bodies.

A band played on a hoverstage while a sultry chanteuse gowned in purple sang of love and lust, three Barillians crooning backup through their tall, lavender pipes.
 

“You ever gamble here?” Haro asked Var behind Joran.

“Nope. You?”

“Once. Lost a month’s wage, and woke up the next morning with the worst hangover of my life and two prostitutes. They told me I’d promised to buy out their contracts and take them with me when I left. I had to apologize and make a run for it. They were pissed off.”

Var snorted. “I imagine they were.”

Haro sighed. “Yeah. I got drunk, wanted to be a high roller. That’s what they used to call the rich guys who could afford to blow a lot at the tables.”

“I reckon you got to enjoy the illusion for one night, anyway.”

“That I did.”

“We’ll all be rollin’ high soon,” Joran flung carelessly over his shoulder.“You’ll be able to buy as many whores as you want.”

There was a short silence from behind him, then his crew stepped into their assigned roles.
 

“Right,” Var agreed. “Lookin’ forward to that.”

“Yeah, me too,” Haro agreed. “Maybe I’ll find those girls and buy out their contracts after all.”

Qala snorted. “Males. You gotta think of something besides sex once in while. Me, I’m gonna have a maid, and a cook. And maybe a pretty houseboy.”

“I’d pay to watch that,” Haro muttered.
 

Then they all quieted, as the Gorglon stopped at an open doorway. He showed his jagged teeth again. “Go in. They are expecting you.”

Var went in first, hard gaze shifting across the big room. He always played the enforcer, because he could look damn scary when he wanted. He nodded to show it was safe, and Joran followed him in, Haro and Qala behind him.
 

Var pulled out a chair for Joran at the big conference table, choosing a spot where Joran could have his back to a wall. “Close the doors,” Var rumbled to the guards.

The man at the far end of the table nodded, and the Gorglon pulled the doors closed, standing before them with his arms crossed.
 

Joran sat, Qala and Haro standing behind him. Var stood to one side, one hand on his weapon.

***

She wanted him.
 

From her place in the shadows behind the man who kept her, the slaver’s mistress watched Il Zhazid, her heart pounding with excitement. The Storm, they called him. He strode into the long room like a conqueror, as if he were the one they’d all been waiting for.
 

At first, when she heard another pirate wanted to meet with Vadyal about a business deal, she’d laughed at the innocence of the fool, whoever he was. Her master was a gross, egotistical narcissist, but he was also the most ruthless being she’d ever met. He ordered executions and torture without blinking, even enjoyed it.
 

Just as he enjoyed using her. She’d known what he was when she chose to come to him, but even she hadn’t imagined the depths of his cruelty. If it weren’t for all his slaves on whom to vent her rage, she would have murdered him by now.

She’d forced herself to pretend compliance and bide her time, knowing that one day she would pay him back in kind. Now, here was the perfect tool to help her do so. And then rule at her side. This man might be reckless, even foolish, but she had enough brains for both of them, and she wanted him.
 

In her former life on Earth II, she’d wanted Logan Stark, had pursued the space magnate with sweet smiles and admiring glances when he came to Maitresse, the exclusive boutique where the very rich of New Seattle, Earth II were pampered and clothed and enhanced.
 

But he’d proved impervious to her charms, even when the little mistress he’d plucked from the New Seattle gutters disappeared. She’d turned her sights on Marc Moon, the MoonPenny Coffee magnate. He’d proven elusive as well. Oh, he’d taken her to bed, but at the New Seattle event of the year, she’d seen that he really had eyes only for some stupid little cow of a coffee heiress.
 

So she’d done her research, and found Vadyal; ruthless slaver and appreciator of beautiful women. And she’d used what she’d learned in what she considered her apprenticeship at the boutique, and styled herself into a woman a man like him would want. Not the refined beauty Maitresse clients were after, but instead flamboyant, sensual and willing to do anything sexually.
 

Vadyal disgusted her, but she never let it show. Instead she performed every sexual act he demanded, procured slaves for him to use as well, and encouraged him in pillowtalk.

She remembered everything he told her.
Everything.
And she spied until she had the rest. The codes to all his credit accounts, and just how to tempt or blackmail his closest minions.

And now that she’d stored all the data on a tiny chip, it was finally time to replace him.

When Joran Stark exploded into the room with wind at his back, and warriors all around him, she nearly orgasmed right then and there. He was powerful, handsome, wild and corrupt.

 
The perfect man. And at his side, she could show his older brother exactly what he’d missed out on by not choosing her.
 

 
***

Mulos ‘Midas’ Vadyal relaxed in his high-backed chair as if it was a throne, the seat of a tyrant.