Pirate Nemesis (Telepathic Space Pirates Book 1) (21 page)

Are you just saying that to manipulate me?

Now he gave her a flat, cool look.
Do you think I don’t give a shit about their lives? Don’t think you know me, lady.

“Fine,” Mercy said the word aloud. Both to him, and to the boys. “I guess I accept.” She held up a hand to forestall the tumble of words she knew was coming. “But I’m still learning all of this. You’re going to need to be patient while I figure out what the hell I’m doing.”

“No problem, You—I mean Mercy.” Max bobbed his head in something between a nod and a bow. “Thank you. You won’t regret it.”

“No more fights.
Especially
to the death. If I hear about it, you’re both out –got it?”

“Absolutely.” Kator was nodding like a fool.

“But if you have to fight to protect yourselves, I mean, definitely do that.” Mercy wanted to rake a hand through her hair, but couldn’t because she’d braided the stuff. Damn, she was already messing this up. “If anyone is giving you trouble, I expect to hear about it. Hopefully before it becomes physical.”

They both continued their vigorous nodding. Exasperated, she waved a hand. “Unless there’s something else, I have a dinner to get to.”

“Yes, I mean no. Mercy.” Max gave her a fervent grin as the boys backed away. “We’ll report to you first thing in the morning.”

She winced. “Let’s go for a couple of days from now.”

She could tell from their expressions that the delay was disappointing, but neither boy argued. Apparently they knew the value of not pushing their luck. The two of them ran down the corridor, jubilant in their body language and smiles. They passed Reaper on the way, who gave them a long look as they hurried by.

“You mean I only have a few days to figure out what to do with them?” she asked Zion.

“Come on, it’s not that bad.”

Mercy sighed, watching Reaper approach. “That’s a matter of opinion.”

M
ercy was anxious
. Reaper could see it in the way she kept smoothing her hands down her thighs, or how her brow furrowed when she ducked her head. She’d been nervous before, when he’d taken her to the arena. But not like this.

Part of him wondered why dinner with his family could possibly be a more stressful prospect than facing a few hundred pirates, some of whom had every reason to want her dead. He could look into her thoughts to find out, but she’d actually been bolstering her shields. They’d finally reached a level of strength where forcing his way past them felt like cheating. So he didn’t.

“What?” She looked at him warily, and he realized they’d been standing outside the door to Dem’s quarters for too long while he watched her.

He shook his head in answer, and brushed against his brother’s shields with his mind. He bit back an oath a moment later, but not soon enough to stop Mercy from shooting him an alarmed look.

“What’s wrong?” The tension in her body reached new heights, and Reaper huffed a frustrated breath as he felt Dem acknowledge his presence.

“My brother is here,” he said, keeping his voice low.

“Isn’t that the point?”

“Not
that
brother.”

He could say no more before the hatch opened, framing the exact person he’d been hoping not to see tonight. Treon blocked the doorway with his body, a move as intentional as it was provoking. Reaper already wanted to throttle him, and he hadn’t even spoken yet.

His youngest brother looked nothing like him. All three of them had sharp differences in their physical characteristics due to their different fathers. But Treon was somehow even more removed, because unlike Reaper and Dem, Treon was no Killer. His eyes were the softer, deeper blue of their mother’s. They reminded Reaper of her every time he saw them. His skin was fair, his features beautiful in a way Reaper’s or Dem’s would never be. Treon put even Zion’s looks to shame. Only in the dark fall of his hair, and the masculine lines of his jaw, did he resemble his brothers.

“Well, well.” Treon crossed his arms. “I’ve been looking forward to this moment.”

Reaper cast a look Mercy’s way. If anything, her wariness had increased, the furrow in her brow deeper.

Treon gave her a long, penetrating look.

Don’t.
Reaper kept the thought on a tight mental thread, reserved just for his brother.

Oh, come, Nik. Don’t tell me you haven’t been inside her head.

To train her. Not to take whatever I wanted.

So scrupulous. How unlike you.
Aloud, Treon said “Your Majesty, it is an honor to finally meet you.” He even tilted his head in a kind of bow.

“Don’t call me that.” Reaper saw Mercy take a moment to rally after snapping the words. When she spoke again, her tone was lighter. “It’s just Mercy.”

Prickly, isn’t she?

But Reaper saw something behind the glint in his brother’s eyes. He wasn’t just here to provoke. He wanted to see this new queen for himself. He didn’t yet trust that she wasn’t another Lilith, despite what Reaper told him.

Move aside, Treon.

His brother opened his mouth, probably to say something else obnoxious, but he was forestalled by the sudden presence of a small whirlwind. Tamari appeared between them, dressed in a yellow frock with red flowers and fat ladybugs. Her curls were bound in pigtails on either side of her head. She was so excited she danced in place, each step moving her up through the air until she stood at eye level with them.

Uncle Nik! Mercy! Uncle Treon, Momma says to stop being you. What does that mean?

Treon softened instantly, reaching out to tweak her nose. “It means she wants me to stop poking at Uncle Nik and let them in the door.”

Tamari giggled.
You weren’t poking him.

With my words,
halla
. With my words.

Tamari wrinkled her nose.
That doesn’t make any sense. Mercy, come see my room! Uncle Nik, Papa wants to talk to you.

Tamari grabbed Mercy’s hand and tugged her right past Treon, who had no choice but to move. Reaper gave his brother a small smile as he followed. There was a simple satisfaction in watching his brother’s arrogance punctured so easily by a child.

That child makes mighty Killers back down,
Treon said.
What chance do I have?

Reaper gave him a cool look.
Humility doesn’t suit you, Treon.

I am merely speaking the truth, brother.

Stop it, both of you. This is a no-sniping zone. Treon, I know that will be especially difficult for you.
Sanah, Dem’s wife, inserted herself between them to give Reaper a hug. After more than four Galactic Standard years, it was still a practice that startled him. People just didn’t hug Killers voluntarily.

Unless you happened to be married to one, it seemed.

And
that
was still a shock to Reaper. Killers didn’t marry. On rare occasions they became consorts, but in those situations, there were always other men in the coterie who could provide the emotional resonance a woman needed. In nearly all other circumstances, Killers formed short-term contracts with other Killers to produce children. Men and women who weren’t themselves Killers rarely sought more than a single night’s thrill when sharing a bed with one. The physical act of sex could be mutually satisfying without emotional resonance, but rarely in a long term arrangement.

Reaper had often wondered since meeting Sanah how Dem managed it. Maybe the fact that she was an empath had something to do with it.

As Sanah let him go, Reaper studied her. She was short, pretty, with wild red curls, pale skin, and a dusting of freckles. Her blue-green eyes sparkled with a warmth that was at once fascinating and alien, largely because she directed that warmth at him. As though she cared for him.

Oh, Nikolos. I do care. When I married Dem, you became my brother.
Sanah linked her arm through his and pulled him further into the room. He could see they’d expanded the kitchen counter into a full table, suitable for seating several people. It was already set for dinner.

Very few people would have dared to breach his shields so casually, and Reaper had known all of them for much longer than Sanah. But she’d never seemed afraid of him. Wary at times, but not afraid.

How do you make it work?
Even he was surprised at the boldness of his own question. As much as he had wondered, Reaper had never before asked Sanah about her relationship with his brother. She gave him a long, searching look.

You and Dem had more than Killers for fathers, Nik.
Sanah never called him by the name everyone else used. It reminded him of his mother, and something inside him softened, thinking about her.
Yes
, said Sanah.
You are half the genes of your mother. I wish I could have met her.

She would have liked you.
Reaper wasn’t sure what prompted him to speak the words, but the radiant smile Sanah turned on him was both unsettling and pleasing.

She squeezed his arm.
Thank you for that. Now, to answer your question more fully. Dem has emotions other Killers I’ve met lack. No, that’s not quite right. Dem is able to connect with his emotions in a way other Killers can’t. The same is true for you, though it seems more difficult. Perhaps because Dem is only a quarter Killer, where you are fully half.
She gave him a sober look.
It will be a long and difficult journey. But if you want to build a loving relationship with her, it can be done.

He raised an eyebrow.

Oh, don’t look at me like that. I felt the connection between you and Mercy the instant Treon answered the door. Don’t worry, wanting to strangle him is perfectly natural. Dem felt the same way when I entered his life.

Amused, Reaper gave her a faint smile.
I’ve wanted to strangle Treon since childhood. Mercy has nothing to do with it.

Sanah gave him a pitying look.
As Cannon likes to say, don’t argue emotion with an empath.
She gave his hand a pat, and stepped away.
I’ll go rescue Mercy from Tama while you speak with Dem.

As Sanah slipped away, Dem entered the room, dressed more casually than Reaper could remember seeing his brother. Instead of his usual suit, Dem wore slacks and a long sleeved shirt in pale blue, a simple clasp holding the collar closed at his throat. For any other pirate, this would have been formal wear. On Dem, it made Reaper stop and nearly gape. His brother ignored him, adjusting his shirt sleeve and looking faintly uncomfortable. Although he was large-framed and taller than either of his brothers, somehow Dem looked smaller than normal without his suit. Reaper wondered if he knew that, and this was part of why he wore them. His black hair was still cut ruthlessly short to his skull, dark skin gleaming beneath the lights. The shirt made his Killer’s eyes stand out even more, something Reaper would have thought he wanted to avoid.

Sanah likes the color.
A hand descended on his shoulder. Treon, his mind brushing Reaper’s before the hand touched down. More than anyone, Treon knew better than to startle him.
He looks dashing, don’t you think? Almost like a real pirate.

Smiling, Reaper folded his arm across his chest.
Sanah’s influence, then.

Oh, no. This is a concession Dem started making after Tamari was born. Apparently constantly cleaning all of those suit jackets was just too much trouble, and having a small child smear food and…other things…all over his clothing was driving Dem mad.

Reaper could imagine it well enough. Dem’s perfectly-pressed attire was part of the control he asserted over everything around him. Having that control challenged must have been an experience.

But then, you’d know all of that if you came around more.

Reaper’s smile disappeared as Treon continued past him to pour them each a drink. Wine was already on the table, so he appropriated three glasses and made use of it.

“Treon,” Dem’s voice rumbled. “Leave Reaper be. I understand why he has stayed away, even if you don't.”

Treon handed Dem a glass. “As you wish. You are the eldest, after all.” He gave a mock bow, prompting Dem to give him one those steady stares that normally made men quake. Treon merely chuckled.

“We were too easy on him in childhood,” Dem said. Reaper made a noise of agreement, accepting his own glass of wine.

Without any sort of segue, Dem switched to telepathic conversation.
Treon and I have each given the ship a thorough search in our own ways. There is no evidence of Willem Frain or any other Veritas agent on board.

And I found no hint of telepathic possession,
Treon added, referring to the kind of mind control the strongest of telepaths could sometimes do. A Veritas agent had come aboard
Nemesis
in this way once before, and Treon had taken steps to insure it never happened again.
None of my traps have been triggered.

Mercy is certain Willem and Veritas are involved.
Reaper frowned down at his glass. He didn’t doubt his brothers’ abilities, but it worried him. The whole thing worried him; the bomb, the fact that another Killer had been hunting her, Veritas.

Dem and Treon exchanged a look.

Mercy went through an ordeal,
said Dem carefully.
It’s possible the stress of that is making her see shadows where none exist.

Reaper felt a familiar chill wash through him. He set his wine glass down.
A queen’s instincts are telling her something. Are you suggesting we ignore that?

I’m saying we need to be careful and consider all possibilities.

Treon made a subtle movement. It drew their attention to him, and Reaper knew in that instant that he’d done it on purpose.
We will remain vigilant,
Treon said.
But thus far, there is nothing to indicate Veritas has breached this ship.

Nothing but Mercy’s vision.

Yes.

Before Reaper could say anything else, the others walked back into the room, Sanah and Mercy chatting together. Tamari disappeared from beside them and reappeared next to Treon, giggling.

“Tamari.” Dem’s voice was even. “No more teleporting.”

“But Papa—”

“No. It is time for dinner.”

Treon tweaked one of her pigtails. “You can sit next to me,
halla
.”

Mercy sat beside Reaper, across from Tamari and Treon. As Sanah and Dem sat at each end of the table, slots appeared in the center and steaming dishes rose up from within in serving bowls. A platter of steaks, a chilled mix of greens and vegetables, and several side dishes filled the air with savory smells.

Tamari wrinkled her nose.
I don’t want steak.

Sanah eyed her daughter. “You don’t have to eat it, Tama. But you will eat some of the Berax tubers I fried up. You need the protein.”

I don’t like tubers. Papa!

Tamari.
Dem’s mental voice was flat and implacable.
You will choose one or the other. Steak, or tubers.

Tama heaved a huge sigh.
Fine.

Reaper could feel Mercy’s amusement at the exchange, her body relaxed as she leaned back in her chair.

“I never liked Berax tubers, either.” Mercy’s voice was light, conversational. “But Wolfgang used to fry them up in this special sauce that made them actually taste good. Your Mom’s smell pretty similar.” She speared a tuber and put it on her plate, cutting a generous bite and making a big show of chewing and tasting it. “Mmm.” She looked over at Sanah, narrowing her eyes. “Did the old Wolf give you his recipe?”

Sanah gave a light shrug. “He might have mentioned you liked them cooked this way. I wanted to be sure and offer things you would enjoy.”

“And he gave you tubers! Of course.” She shook her head, laughing. “Well they
are
really good. You should try them, Tama.”

Intrigued, Tamari made no protest when her mother put one onto her plate.

You’re good with her.
Reaper kept the words private, just between himself and Mercy as he filled his own plate.

She’s adorable.
Mercy sipped her wine.
So, are you going to tell me what Dem and Treon had to say? Don’t look so surprised. I know it was about the investigation.