Page 12 of Black Star
Chapter Two
Damon honestly couldn’t blame the tiny woman for being scared. The first time he stuck those accursed earpieces in his ears, he’d nearly come unglued. He’d paid for his thoughtless mistake, though. The little hellcat had almost taken his leg off. His knee still throbbed, and he limped slightly, gingerly.
He was getting too old for this.
She couldn’t have been much older than Nadira, the girl he’d practically raised. He had to remember that. If he didn’t, he’d likely do things to this girl that would surely send him to the Seventh Level of Hell. Even before the ultrasonics got her clean, she’d stirred something primitive inside him. The second he’d taken her into his arms, even fighting as she was, his cock had gone rock hard.
He would have never taken her by force, ever. He wouldn’t take her, period, until he was sure she wanted him as well. She was just too damned young. Anyway, a girl as lovely as she was would never be interested in an old goat like him.
Damon retreated to the far side of the room to give her some space. He watched her as she stared in amazement at her reflection. The transformation was astounding. She was still way too thin for his liking, like she had been starved, but she was absolutely stunning.
Her hair was the most pronounced change. Before, it had been a frizzy mass of tangles and dirt. He had initially wondered if it was a platinum blond, but once it had been blasted clean of grime, it shone a lustrous, brilliant silver-white. High cheekbones were made more prominent because she was so thin, but it gave her an exotic look that called to his baser nature.
The tattered clothes she wore were still in very bad condition, but at least they were clean now. She needed new garments, but he’d be damned if he didn’t like looking at her in what she was wearing. There were bits of creamy flesh visible in the most tantalizing places. The fine muscle of one thigh, the curve of a breast, and an amazingly sexy belly button were just taunting him like no woman ever had before.
He wanted her. Badly.
“So,” he began, clearing his throat when his voice came out more husky than normal, “what are we to do with you? What task can you do to earn your keep aboard this ship?”
She turned to him then and wrapped her arms around her, as if she felt too exposed, which she was. “If you’re thinking of anything… indecent… forget it. I’d rather be spaced than sell my body to anyone.” Her chin came up a notch or two in defiance, but Damon didn’t miss the tremor in her chin.
“From what I observed on Graves Station -- and I know that’s where you came from because it’s the only place we’ve stopped in three standard months -- I would have thought you’d done that already.” He was fishing. He knew she’d been through a lot just by looking at her. It wasn’t only her initial appearance. There was a haunted look in her eyes he couldn’t ignore.
“There’s a reason I looked and smelled so badly, and it wasn’t only your garbage hold. I did my best to stay below the station to escape notice. The nastier I was, the less likely someone would decide he wanted me for a wife or housemaid. Those women have a harder time deciding how their bodies are used, and that’s just not something I wanted to be a part of.”
“Is that why you’re here? To protect your body against invasion?”
“That, and because I’m tired of being a slave to every man on the station. I should be able to work to help myself, not in order to live.” Again, that haughty, defiant expression graced her face. She looked more like an avenging angel than a slave.
“Then you won’t mind working here.” He turned to a computer panel on the wall and began tapping keys. He accessed the areas where help was needed on the ship, but he didn’t need to. Damon knew the Black Star and her crew inside and out. It was more a reason to focus his attention somewhere other than the bare curve of that one breast. His cock twitched at the thought of exposing it fully and taking it into his mouth and…
“I won’t work for passage only. I need some way to make money for when you drop me off.”
Damon smiled. She was a feisty little thing. “Who said you had to? I pay fair wages and anyone may leave at any time. All you have to do is perform a useful service in a necessary area and you can stay until we get to wherever you want to go, or until you’ve saved enough to start a life of your own.”
They looked at each other for a moment, and Damon could have sworn he saw his own hunger mirrored in her eyes. Then she looked away and admitted, “I can’t do much. All I ever did on the station was cook, and only for the women and girls below decks. We didn’t have much, so I had to be creative.”
Damon raised an eyebrow. This might work better than he’d thought. “Are you any good?”
“Well, I never had any complaints, and the kids said they loved it when I cooked.”
“We’ll give it a try. If the crew approves, you’ve got yourself a job.”
When she smiled, Damon knew he was in real trouble. Her whole face lit up. Fear was replaced with hope, and she looked at him like he was somebody special. Important to her. Denying her anything was going to be almost as hard as it had been to leave Nadira aboard Sword Breaker several months earlier, and that was saying something.
“By the way.” She gave him a quizzical look. “What’s your name?”
Damon could have groaned out loud. It wasn’t possible he could actually do this twice in less than one standard month. Of all the stupid things. “My apologies. It seems I still lack the necessary diplomatic skills to even exchange names before I get deep into negotiations. I’m Damon Singh. Captain of the Black Star .”
She approached him hesitatingly, but extended her hand in greeting. “Phoebe Lightheart…”
Anything else she might have said was totally lost on Damon. The second he had her hand in his, it was like an electric charge shot up his arm and straight to his groin. His fingers tingled, and as he looked into her eyes, he had the sensation of falling into their silvery green depths. She was hypnotizing him with her subtle sexuality as effortlessly as one of the highly skilled courtesans of the Asalian people.
The two of them stood there for what seemed like forever -- at least it did to Damon. Finally, Phoebe pulled her hand free and averted her gaze.
“I won’t, Captain,” she whispered. “I won’t sell my body, even for my life.”
It took Damon a moment to find his voice because his throat was so dry. “I would never ask it of you. I apologize for my weakness.” It was hard for Damon to admit this to a stranger, but he’d never been one to be dishonest. It was the only way he knew how to gain the trust of his crew. Honesty. He waited until her gaze returned to his. “I would never force myself on someone who didn’t want me, Phoebe. And I would never use my position aboard this ship to influence anyone into my bed.”
She seemed to consider this before finally nodding her head. “Well, if I’m going to do this, I suppose you should show me the kitchen. I’d like to know what I have to work with.”
“Of course.” Damon was grateful for the chance to focus on something else, but then he remembered her state of dress. Or rather undress. “Perhaps --” He almost blurted out something that might sound insulting but caught himself. “Let me get you a uniform. That way everyone will know you’re a part of the crew.”
She blinked a couple of times before looking back down at her garments. “I’d almost forgotten how inadequate they are.” She crossed her arms over her breasts. “I suppose I look horrible.”
She looked so dejected, Damon didn’t even try to measure his response. “On the contrary, Phoebe. You look like an angelic fairy. The only thing missing is your wings.”
Phoebe hadn’t known what to say. She hoped it was a compliment, but she really didn’t want to think about it. If she did, this was a man she could easily surrender herself to, and that could be disastrous for her. She didn’t know Damon. She didn’t know what he was capable of, and she certainly didn’t know what his plan for her was. It had been her experience that every man had an agenda. She’d just have to figure out what his was.
Once she was dressed in the black, form-fitting uniform of the Black Star , Damon took her to the kitchen area. It was larger than anything she’d ever seen, and she was a bit intimidated. What had she gotten herself into? Not that it mattered. She didn’t have much choice but to learn.
“How many do I have to feed?” she asked, dreading the answer. The sheer size of the kitchen was answer enough.
“At present? Twenty. Assuming we pick up more from Sword Breaker when we rendezvous with him, you could have as many as thirty-three.”
Phoebe’s jaw dropped. She had had to feed more than two hundred women and girls with about half the space and equipment the Black Star afforded.
“Is that going to be a problem?”
She almost laughed. “Are you kidding? With all this? Unless you simply have no food, I think I can come up with something.” For the first time since sneaking aboard the Black Star , Phoebe was excited about the prospects for her future. Perhaps she had won this impossible gamble after all.
The grand tour was just that to her. Wonderfully grand! There was enough food stored on this ship to feed everyone in the below decks of Graves Station for months. All this food for a maximum of thirty-three people? It was unimaginable.
“I don’t think there will be a problem,” she said when he’d finished. “I might require someone to show me how to work some of the equipment, but I think I can figure out most of it.” She hesitated before asking, “There isn’t anything in here that could blow me up, is there?”
He chuckled. She got the impression he didn’t laugh much, but his eyes sparkled when he did. It nearly took her breath. This man affected her like nothing she was prepared for. She was about to thank him for being so nice to her when a claxon sounded and Captain Singh was requested in the command center.
“Do you remember the way back to my quarters?” The smile she’d thought so engaging disappeared, and the stoic captain returned.
“I can find it,” she said. “Go on. I’ll be fine.”
He nodded smartly and spun around to leave. Once he was out the door, she heard his heavy footfalls quicken. Phoebe left the spacious kitchen and headed in the opposite direction of Captain Singh. She’d do what he asked of her. In the years she’d spent under the rule of the men of the Hand of God, she’d learned to assess people quickly. She got the impression he was a man of his word. She wasn’t sure why she thought that, but the sense was so strong, she was willing to bet her life.