The Smuggler's Radiant (Renegades Book 2) Read online

  ‘You’re red with big horns,’ Decimen pointed out.

  Makios almost laughed. Slowly the urge faded. From her point of view, and in her current state of mind, what was the difference?

  ‘Vrok.’ He looked at the terrified female. ‘She thinks I’m the same as him.’

  ‘She probably thinks all Fenion are rapists,’ Decimen said. His voice was dry, but his face was full of compassion.

  ‘I don’t look nothing like a Fenion.’ Makios shook his head.

  ‘Give her time.’ Decimen shrugged. ‘She just watched her mate get murdered. She doesn’t know what she’s seeing.’

  Makios closed his eyes, ashamed of himself. ‘You’re right.’ He opened his eyes once more and felt his shoulders sag.

  ‘It’s been known to happen.’ Decimen leaned back against the bars. He was still watching her.

  Her eyes flitted from Decimen to Makios and back again. The wariness was still there, but the terrified look was fading.

  Makios backed away from her. When he moved, she flinched. He held up his hands then set them to the ground, dragging himself deliberately, slowly away from her. He didn’t stop until he was against the bars.

  ‘I have to get her to trust me,’ Makios whispered.

  ‘Good luck with that,’ Decimen said, laughing.

  Makios nodded; he had time; they were going to Addis in the Devori sector. It would take six rotes to get there, where the crew of his ship, Tala, were meeting him. The plan was to buy him, but Tolomus had already sold Makios. That was what they were discussing when the little human arrived. Makios was recently involved in events that cost Tolomus a lucrative contract in human slaves with the Cealin government. He was taking it personally and taking it out on Makios.

  He looked at the Aavani and the human. He would save them both, along with the rest of the humans and as many others as he could.

  An image of Alethia chained to a table flashed into his mind. Makios never saw Alethia like that. Yet he saw it anyway, every night when he went to bed. He saw the image of Kallis carrying her, unconscious, to his ship. Nightmares of the things Kallis would have done to her plagued him. The idea of finding her broken in body and mind played like a vid on almost constant repeat whenever he closed his eyes. He knew her mate, Thanesh, was going through the same thing.

  He should never have left her. He went into that hall to slaughter Cealin in revenge for the things they had done to him in the rotes he had been their prisoner. But in doing so, he had let down his oldest friend.

  ‘Deep in thought, Kathen?’

  Makios nodded.

  ‘Feel like sharing?’

  ‘Do you freely share your failures?’

  ‘No,’ Decimen admitted. ‘But I get punished for mine.’

  ‘We all do, to some degree.’

  ‘I believe I am speaking more literally than you are.’

  Makios looked up at the Aavani.

  Decimen shifted his position until Makios could make out the whip scars on his back.

  Makios released a sigh. ‘I am an idiot today.’

  ‘Just today?’ Decimen cocked his head. ‘You are, after all, admitting you have failures, or did they all occur today?’

  Makios chuckled. ‘How do you joke in a place like this?’ Makios asked Decimen.

  ‘Solars of experience,’ Decimen said, suddenly serious.

  Makios looked at the human. She had settled somewhat and was watching them with a curious look on her face.

  They were chatting and laughing like they were working a quiet Saturday instead of sitting on the floor of a slave ship.

  Rhona kept a steady eye on them, moving from the devil in her cell to the living gold statue next door. Slowly, she was letting in the details. Michael was dead; that was a detail, one that threatened to derail her. Rhona knew she would cry, rage and grieve, but looking around at the massive room with cages filled with aliens and humans, she couldn’t afford to do that here, now. She was a Stinar. The time would come for all of that. Right now, she had to concentrate on surviving.

  The devil wasn’t from the same species as the previous devil. She looked at him, searching for similarities, but besides the fact that there was red on his skin and horns on his head, there were none. The one in front of her didn’t have scales for a start. The other alien had been mostly red with a patch of broader, paler scales on his chest. This one was primarily white with what looked like red tattoos that curved, branched and spiralled across his entire body. His massive, and very masculine, body.

  He hadn’t stood yet. But Rhona estimated him to be in the seven-foot height range. He had six horns, not two, which swept from his forehead and temples acting like a helmet over his skull before tapering and sweeping behind his skull. His silver-grey hair was in a loose, messy top knot that looked like it had once been neat but had come undone, probably when he was captured.

  Pale eyes stared out at her. They were like molten silver and observed her carefully; he did everything carefully. Bit by bit, it sank into her mind that he was trying to reassure her.

  He was topless except for the tattoos, not that they did anything to obstruct the view, in fact, they enhanced the shape of his muscles. He was covered in muscles. He wasn’t just broad—he was filled, swole. Rhona took art classes while growing up in the black. Everything was digital, downloadable from anywhere in the Sol system. She used that knowledge now, picking out the various muscles and features of his face and body. His cheekbones were high, sharp and sat over a strong jaw. His nose was Roman from the side. From the front, it was thin and irregular. It added character to his face. His lips were full and shapely.

  He had a long, muscular neck set within a high trapezius and within a prominent clavicle. His shoulders were broad and where they met his chest and arm, dark veins popped up against the skin. He had nipples and a belly button, so he was mammalian. For some reason, that reassured her.

  The rest of his body was well-developed. His torso was long, and there were several inches between his belly button and the top of his groin. She stared at his Adonis belt before she realised what she was doing.

  Rhona scrubbed her face. ‘What the hell am I doing? I’m eyeing up the big horned devil.’

  Her voice was croaked, rasping from the effect of being dragged by the throat. She looked back at the white and red alien. For a moment, she thought she saw a flash of something on the devil’s face. Suddenly embarrassed, she turned to the living statue. He had a head of thick golden blonde hair that fell in waves around his shoulders and halfway down his back. He was wearing little more than a loincloth that showed off the ripped muscle that covered his body. Rivers of veins stood out against his abdominal muscles and disappeared into a place she didn’t want to think about. Where the devil was swole, this guy was ripped. His body was full of lean muscle. His waist was tapered then protruded into an Adonis belt.

  She looked into his face. He was watching her with an amused smirk on his full lips. His pupils expanded over green-gold irises as he took in her visual travels. He oozed sexuality in a way that was erotic and disconcerting.

  ‘I know women who would gut me to be this close to you,’ she said, trying to make a joke. ‘I also know women who would gut you for that hair.’

  The golden male glanced at the devil behind her. He was still smirking.

  Rhona turned and looked at the devil. He was frowning, an unhappy look on his face.

  The two males spoke, and for some bizarre reason Rhona couldn’t quite make out, she felt like she’d just cheated on the devil. She looked at him first, hadn’t she? For longer, now that she thought about it. Her eyes travelled down his torso and she saw the unmistakable sign of him puffing up his chest.

  ‘Oh my God. You men are the same everywhere. Everywhere.’ She felt like she had ground glass in her throat.

  The two men exchanged a few words. The golden male was smiling, the red male frowning deeper. Whatever the gold alien was saying, it was annoying the devil.

  Th
e devil turned his attention to her and touched himself on the chest.

  ‘Makios,’ he said.

  ‘Makios?’ she asked. He nodded.

  She looked at the golden male.

  ‘Decimen.’ He touched his chest.

  ‘Decimen,’ she repeated. She touched her chest. ‘Rhona.’

  ‘Rhona,’ the two males said together.

  ‘Yep,’ she said. her voice fading to a whisper. ‘Rhona Stinar. Not that it matters anymore.’

  She scrubbed her face again and looked up at the top of the cell. The bars continued all the way around.

  She touched her throat where the purple alien had gripped her. The skin was tender. Her stomach hurt where the charcoal-skinned alien had hit her, and her face throbbed where he backhanded her. She felt like a walking bruise.

  ‘This was supposed to be the best day,’ she croaked. ‘Now it’s the worst.’

  ‘I don’t think that was her mate,’ Decimen said, a smile on his face.

  Makios was watching her stare at the Aavani. For some reason, it was all right when she was doing it to him. Now that she was studying the Aavani, he was troubled.

  ‘Her behaviour would be disturbing if he were,’ he admitted, frowning.

  She looked back at him. Her eyes moving down his torso, heat entered her eyes. Makios puffed up his chest in response, allowing the female to make a judgement about his suitability as a sexual partner. He wanted her. The thought struck him as odd—that he could want a female in circumstances such as these. But the truth was, were they alone, he would have offered himself to her already.

  ‘Oh my God. You men are the same everywhere. Everywhere.’ She was shaking her head.

  ‘I wonder what she’s called?’ the Aavani said.

  Makios touched his chest and introduced himself. Decimen did the same, and finally, she gave up her name.

  Rhona Stinar.

  ‘Not that it matters anymore.’ She rubbed her hands over her face, spreading the black trails under her eyes and on her cheeks farther across her face.

  She touched her throat and face, assessing the pain from the damage that had been wrought, no doubt.

  ‘This was supposed to be the best day. Now it’s the worst.’ She sighed and closed her eyes. Tears trickled down her cheeks. ‘I’m never going to see my mum and dad again,’ she sobbed. ‘Or meet my baby brother. Or be able to tell my mum about Michael’s death.’ She covered her face with her hands.

  ‘Rhona Stinar,’ Makios said.

  Her tear-streaked face appeared from behind her hands. She looked up at him.

  Slowly, gently, he rose.

  ‘Oh, God, you’re big,’ she whispered. ‘I’m used to tall. But you’re big and tall. Bigger and taller than my dad and he’s a big man.’

  Makios smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way and held out his hands so she could see them. Then, slowly, he walked across the cell towards her.

  ‘What are you doing?’ She put her hands to the floor, ready to flee.

  When he was still several fenth away, he folded his frame and sat against the same bars as her. He turned his head and looked at her, letting her see his compassion, his gentleness. He held out a hand to her. ‘Rhona,’ he said again, quieter this time.

  Rhona’s face crumpled. The tears started afresh. She moved close enough to slip a hand in his, squeezed it in gratitude and cried.

  ‘Rhona.’ It was a human voice, calling, echoing from across the chamber. ‘Rhona,’

  ‘Karl?’ she shouted back, realising she recognised the voice.

  She was still sitting against the bars, next to the cute devil who was holding her hand while she cried.

  For the life of her, she had no idea why she trusted him, but she did. He wouldn’t hurt her. She wasn’t so sure about the golden man, but the devil wouldn’t.

  Makios, she reminded herself.

  ‘Rhona, where’s Michael?’

  A sob escaped her lips. She covered her eyes with her hand to block out the images of Michael lying bloody and bruised.

  ‘He’s dead,’ she squeaked out.

  She cleared her voice.

  ‘He’s dead,’ she said louder, still not loud enough. She was going to have to repeat it. The words clogged her throat and refused to come. They were the worst words she’d ever said. She took a deep breath, fortifying herself to repeat it when she heard another human relay the announcement for her.

  ‘He’s dead.’ The words echoed across the chamber until everyone had heard and said them. Each time they repeated, it was like a nail in her head. The finality of it. She sobbed again.

  Makios squeezed her hand.

  She looked up at him. Growing up on Mars, Rhona was tall, almost six feet herself. The devil had a good foot on her.

  She squeezed his hand back and offered him a small smile of thanks.

  ‘How?’ a voice, not Karl’s, asked.

  ‘He saved me from being assaulted so they killed him,’ she said, barely getting the words out. ‘A purple alien threw him out the airlock.’ Again, the words rippled across the room.

  ‘Tolomus,’ the red guy beside her said.

  ‘Tolomus?’ she looked at him.

  ‘Purp alien. Tolomus.’

  Rhona gasped. ‘You understand me?’

  Makios nodded.

  The golden male in the next cell chuckled.

  ‘You too?’

  He nodded, then made a sweeping gesture with both hands to indicate the whole chamber.

  ‘Oh, hell. Guys,’ she croaked out to the humans in the room. ‘These aliens understand us.’

  ‘What?’ Karl shouted.

  The braying laughter of dozens of aliens followed her declaration.

  ‘Oh, fuck me!’ another voice called. ‘Not literally,’ the now panicked voice squealed. More laughter followed.

  Makios’s hand was covering his face and was shaking his head.

  Rhona slipped her hand back out of his. He looked at her, a hurt expression on his face.

  ‘I’m not punishing you,’ she said. ‘I’m thinking we should figure out a system of communication.’

  Makios smiled eagerly.

  Rhona returned the smile. ‘Right. On Earth, when we mean yes, we nod.’ She did an exaggerated nod. ‘When we mean no, we shake our heads.’ She shook her head until she could feel her brain bouncing around in her skull. ‘And when we don’t know, we shrug our shoulders.’ She shrugged. Her gaze fell to his broad shoulders, and she swallowed.

  Makios watched her impassively, then looked over her shoulder at Decimen who was repeating the motions while snickering.

  ‘What?’ she asked, looking from one to the other. She looked back at Makios. His lips were pursed, and he was trying to prevent his laughter from making any noise. ‘Do…’ She looked back from one to the other again. ‘Do aliens already do this?’ she looked at Makios.

  He considered, then shrugged. Not her exaggerated shrug, but a small, ordinary gesture.

  ‘Some aliens do this?’ she guessed.

  He nodded.

  ‘Well, fuck.’ She looked away from them. ‘I feel like an idiot.’

  Makios patted her shoulder reassuringly.

  There was a sudden jerk, then a shift. The feeling seemed to move through Rhona in a bone-deep shiver. She looked in shock at Makios and Decimen. ‘What was…’ Then it occurred to her. ‘Did—did we just shift to faster-than-light travel?’

  Makios nodded again.

  They were gone, leaving; she was never going home. ‘Oh my God.’ Rhona sobbed. She covered her face in her hands and let the tears fall.

  When Makios pulled her into his arms, she let him.

  Rhona was breathing easier now, which made Makios breathe easier. There was a question-and-answer period during which the humans talked about the battle they had been in. Slaughter, more like. Three other humans were dead and fourteen captured.

  ‘Is it even worth his while?’ Rhona asked. ‘Coming all this way for fourteen people?’ She loo
ked at Makios. He nodded. ‘How many make it worth the expense?’

  Makios priced it up in his head. The cost of a human slave versus the males hired, plus other overheads and wear and tear on the ship—basic rations for slaves. Fuel wasn’t a problem. Ships ran on radiant, which lasted decades. He held up two hands and eight fingers.

  Rhona gasped. ‘So he’s making a killing today?’

  Makios frowned. He wasn’t familiar with the saying despite his time with Alethia and her mother.

  ‘He’s making a massive profit,’ she clarified when she saw the confusion.

  Grimacing with disgust, Makios nodded.

  ‘Oh, God,’ she whispered. ‘They’ll never stop, will they?’

  There was only one way. But until Rhona was fitted with a translator, it was useless to try and communicate. He shook his head instead.

  ‘We’re all just living on borrowed time.’ Another saying Makios had never heard.

  Rhona scrubbed her face. ‘It’s hopeless,’ she said, her voice breaking.

  Makios grabbed her hands and pulled them from her face. She looked at him. He shook his head, putting every ounce of determination into his expression. Don’t give up, he wanted to tell her. There’s a chance. There’s hope.

  ‘What? Are you going to fight the aliens that want us?’

  Makios nodded.

  ‘Do you have some secret army that can defend us?’

  Makios thought of the Tessan Protectorate and nodded.

  Rhona stilled and stared at him. Her eyes examined his, examined his face.

  ‘Who?’ she asked.

  ‘Tessans.’

  ‘Am I meant to know who that is?’

  Frustration overwhelmed him. Makios had so much to tell her about the Protectorate and Tessa. But whatever she heard would mean nothing to her.

  Makios looked at Decimen who was watching with intense interest. There was nothing he could say. No way he could indicate to her. His impotence ate at him until he grunted in frustration.

  ‘It’s okay, big guy,’ Rhona smiled. ‘I believe you.’

  She didn’t. But at least she was smiling now. That was an improvement.