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Chapter Fifteen

P etra

I haven’t seen any activity in the cave for a long time, so I’m moving faster than I’d anticipated. I’m at the foot of the massive wall of stone the cave is carved into.

This reminds me of Native American villages where they built dwellings into the side of sheer rock faces. They fashioned ladders to get in and out and pulled them into their lodges at night so intruders couldn’t invade.

Well, I’m sure as hell an intruder, and damned if they didn’t pull in their ladder. The cave is about fifteen feet off the ground. I’m going to have to scale the wall. The rock face is pretty smooth; it will be hard to find handholds. It will be especially difficult to do this in the dark, wearing a pack, with a gun in my waistband, hands already bleeding, in complete silence.

Oh well, nothing comes easy. I just remind myself that Shadow is up there. I don’t have time to think about why my hands are clenching in anguish just thinking about Shadow being hurt or tortured up there—or dead.

The faint light from the fire illuminates out here, and I visualize my ascent. My hands are a complete mess. They’re bleeding and in constant pain. There’s nothing I can do to avoid more damage as I scale the harsh face of this rock. I stand on the ground and imagine every handhold I will take from my first leap off the ground to being level with the cave opening. Then I’ll have to lever my feet through the entryway, grab the gun and start shooting if I have to in order to break Shadow out.

And then my body follows the plan I just visualized. My hands are already throbbing, and when I jump to catch the first handhold, pain arrows through me like flames. I keep going. Right hand, left hand, a tiny hitch to the left and up I go. I have to climb higher than the floor of the cave; I have to be above it so I can swing directly into it and land on my feet inside. I shut out the agony, ordering my brain to not allow signals from my hands to reach my pain receptors. That makes this process bearable.

My feet are now a few inches higher than the floor of the cave and I’m getting ready to swing in. I hang by one hand, my toes kicked into almost-nonexistent crevices in the rock wall while I carefully grab my gun.

Shadow

I allow my right eye to flicker open a micron. My prosthetic is gone, I have no vision in my left eye. I had suspected as much. Drack , if I ever have the opportunity to fight them, I’ll have no depth perception as well as no left arm.

“Let’s wake the motherfucker, Brun. Let’s have some fun,” Mang’s voice is excited at the prospect.

“What do you have in mind?”

“The flyer says he’s wanted alive—it doesn’t say he has to be in good shape.”

They both laugh. I hear them shuffling on the rock floor. I try to contain the fear arrowing through me. I’ve been stabbed and beaten countless times in the arena, but I don’t think that’s what these males have in mind. The word “torture” spears through my brain. My stomach clenches in dread

“There’s a bunch of old tree limbs piled in the back of the cave. We could get the tips hot and poke him. A little fire might wake the bastard. Then we’ll have some real fun.”

I’ll gladly take the pain if it keeps their primitive minds focused on me. It would be terrible if they started wondering why I’m here and if I might have had a traveling companion. I don’t want them searching for Petra. Dear Gods, the thought of them hurting her is worse than anything they could possibly do to me.

Petra

My hold on this vertical wall is perilous with a gun in one hand. I hear male voices laughing and sneering inside. Sounds like two voices, neither of which belongs to Shadow.

I hear a yelp of intense pain, then a long, low groan. Without conscious thought, I move into action. I swing right and then use the momentum to heave left into the cave; I pull my gun and assess the situation.

I see two humanoid males with sticks, the ends of which are glowing red hot. They’re hovering over a figure hogtied on the floor. I don’t need to see anything else to know now is the time to fire my weapon.

The one on the left is on the ground motionless before either of them are fully aware of my presence. It is the work of a moment to kill the second one.

I’ve watched enough police procedurals on TV to know to keep my weapon drawn as I inspect the entire space. The fire burning in the middle of the cave illuminates almost every nook and cranny and I make certain no one else is lurking in the shadows.

When I’m sure there are no more of these bastards, I hurry back to the two of them and shoot them each twice more. I want to ensure they are both good and dead.

It’s only now that I hurry over to Shadow, who is tightly trussed and lying on the floor.

“Shadow! Oh my God. Shadow are you alive?” I hold back a scream as my emotions catch up with me. My throat squeezes closed, my mouth draws downward. Is he dead? Please, let him be alive.

“Alive, Pet,” his voice is scratchy, almost a whisper. I don’t hear any of his usual bravado or sardonic tone, just fear, and maybe some relief.

I inventory the scene. His feet are bound and pulled back so tightly his heels are almost touching his ass. His right wrist is behind his back and bound to his ankles. His usually bronze skin appears pale in the flickering firelight.

I crouch next to him and kiss the top of his head. “So glad you’re alive!”

I spend no more than a moment to glance around for a knife. I don’t want to waste precious time looking for one. I grab one of the sticks with the red, glowing tips and carefully touch it to one of the ropes strung between ankles and neck. When the rope burns through, it allows me to untie everything and turn Shadow on his side.

His movements are slow. His muscles must be burning from being pulled into such a contorted position for so long. He’s weak and clumsy as he rubs himself, trying to get blood moving into his oxygen-deprived cells.

“You’re okay?” he asks, spearing me with a concerned look.

“ I just rescued you , Shadow. Yes, I’m okay. How about you?”

“I’ve been better.” He attempts a smile, but it’s just a strained grimace.

“I was so worried about you. How badly did they hurt you?” I see three burns, each about the size of a half dollar, near his ribs. My eyebrows knit in concern.

“I’ll be fine, I’ve been hurt way worse. You got here just in time. I wasn’t sure I was going to make it out of this alive. Thank you, Pet.”

I’ve seen Shadow in many moods: swaggering, angry, focused, and in the throes of passion. I’ve never seen him like this. He’s unnerved; his features are drawn. This brush with death seems to have shaken him badly

I reach out to smooth his hair. I have an urge to make him feel better, to soothe him. All of my bravado, my vow to never trust, to never get close disappears. All that’s left is the desire to calm him, to get Shadow back to his former surly, infuriating, dick-like self.

“We should comm the ship and tell them we’re safe. Have them pick us up immediately,” he says.

“You have a comm? I don’t. Mine got obliterated in the climb.”

He spies the fingertips of his prosthetic arm poking out of my backpack, grabs it, then holds it up for me to see the naked wrist. “I have no idea where mine went, but it’s gone, too.” He makes short work of pressing the metallic arm against the stub of his torso, twisting it back and forth until it clicks, and then flexing the arm, a small smile of satisfaction on his face.

“So, no hope of rescue. I’m going to make sure we’re safe, then clean up.” Easing to his feet, he tries unsuccessfully to hide a wince. Then he moves with economy of motion as he adds more wood to the fire, avoiding my gaze.

I know who this is. This is Shadow in shutdown mode. Now he’s all business. Less than ten minutes ago he was about to be tortured to death. He had to have been looking death straight in the eye. Must be too many emotions for him to handle.

He kicks the bodies to the edge of the cave, then sets the ladder on the ground.

“I’m going to reconnoiter, see if there are any more people around. The way they talked, though, I think those were the only two.”

While he’s gone, a frisson of panic races through me. I just killed two people. It took a moment, but it’s hitting me now. Pictures, sounds, and smells of the war come barreling at me. My whole body tenses in terror.

I’m in a flashback for less than a minute, and just as quickly I work my way back to the present. I’m not proud of what I just did, but I’m not going to be traumatized by it either. Fuck those assholes! They were torturing Shadow. I don’t exactly know how to wrap my head around this, but I will get a grip. I’m not going to allow myself to feel guilty for doing what had to be done.

Shadow returns a few minutes later. “I think indigenous people used to live here, but it hasn’t been inhabited for a long time. If it wasn’t so dark and such difficult terrain to traverse, I’d leave now. But that sounds more dangerous than staying here. I found some furs we can sleep in. We’ll go back to the flyer at the first streaks of dawn and get the drack out of here.”

He’s the one who was almost just killed, so I’m not really sure why I’m sitting here as useless as a chocolate teapot. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, my hands are clammy and shaking. I can’t get the picture of those males torturing Shadow out of my head.

I bring myself to the present as I watch him stoke the fire with old wood he found in the recesses of the cave. He pushes the bodies over the edge; I hear them hit the ground with heavy thuds. He sets up two cozy pallets of fur, each on opposite sides of the now-blazing fire.

“Tired? Ready for sleep?” he asks.

“Starving,” I say as I move to the backpack and retrieve the sandwiches Maddie made what seems like a lifetime ago. I hand him two and grab two for myself. I barely breathe between bites—I don’t care if this mystery meat is tarantula, I won’t stop until there’s nothing left to eat.

“Why do you think they took your arm?”

“Not sure,” he’s still chewing, “maybe to disable me? Maybe to ensure there was no tracking device in the metal?”

“Were they even smart enough for that? The brief moment I saw of them they seemed like total losers.”

He nods, giving me a small smile, then attacks his food. I’m glad to see him calming down after his near-death experience.

“So would that explain why they took your eye?”

And then the smile is gone as his right hand reaches up to his left eye, as if he only just now realized his prosthetic is gone. His expression constricts in distress. Is he embarrassed? He hurriedly rips a strip from the bottom of his pant leg and ties it around his head, fashioning a makeshift eye patch, hiding his scarred gouge from my gaze.

I walk over to him, kneel, and press my palms to his cheeks, looking him directly in the eye.

“You’ve seen me naked, Shadow. I’ve opened myself to you. I see you. I know who you are.

This…” I slide off the makeshift eye patch. “This is part of who you are.” I kiss the jagged scar of his ruined eye. “You don’t need to hide from me.”

He blinks, his Adam’s apple bobs, he shakes his head. His jaw clenches then opens as if he’s about to say something, then he snaps his mouth closed and moves to his pallet.

I stand up, grab my furs and drag them over to him. “May I join you tonight, Shadow?”

His head tips back a bit in genuine surprise. “To sleep?”

So much subtle subtext here. “Yes. May I sleep with you?”

I’m waiting for his trademark sarcasm or some other dick move, but he pats the floor. “Help yourself.”

Merging my furs with his, I make sure we’re both covered. I snuggle down into my nest, then cuddle next to him, my back to his front.

Shadow

If I had a list of things I never thought would happen in my lifetime, Petra kissing my eye tenderly last night is more improbable than me becoming a free male. I honestly have no idea why she did that. These last few days with Petra and my apology to Grace triggered a major transformation for me. Something must have happened to Petra to cause a shift for her as well.

The sky is pinkish gray; the first light of dawn is streaking the sky. My arm is around Petra’s waist; her bottom is snuggled firmly against my hips. My cock has certainly taken notice. She’s sound asleep, which proves she’s incorrect in her insistence that she’s constitutionally incapable of sleeping with another person. Interestingly, I have no desire to rub this in her face—my only desires are to keep her safe and ease her burdens.

I can feel Petra climb up from sleep to wakefulness even though she hasn’t moved a muscle. She turns over to face me and smiles lazily.

“I thought you were dead yesterday. I was so worried.” She presses her palm to my cheek, on my bad side. It doesn’t seem to disgust her. “Thoughts on how to connect back with the ship?”

“We need to leave soon. Those males were ready to hand me over to the MarZan cartel for a million credits. They said they hadn’t reported my whereabouts, but we need to make haste. Let’s locate the flyer—I hope it hasn’t been cannibalized for parts. We’ll fly back to the rental agency and find a way to hail the ship.”

Petra

We left the cave in record time. As soon as we stepped over the dead bodies Shadow threw over the side, we were off at a jog. It was laborious to work our way through the vulcan a grove, with the scratchy thorns and knobby tree roots slowing our pace.

I’m frantically worried about the cartel. It sounds like they are cutthroat and bloodthirsty. Knowing they have a bounty on all my friends’ heads has my heart thumping in fear.

Now that we’re approaching the flyer, Shadow runs to it. He hurriedly checks it out and looks relieved a moment later when he calls, “She’s fine. There haven’t been any intruders.”

He takes a moment to look around for his prosthetic eye and his comm, but that’s a fool’s errand.

There’s so much I want to say. I want to discuss why I asked to sleep with him last night. I’m going to have to explain that I was just scared and cold and stressed to the max, but that nothing has changed between us. I don’t want a relationship. I don’t want anyone I have to answer to. I’m a free spirit—I don’t get close, I don’t trust.

My chest tightens in guilt. I should probably apologize for giving so many mixed messages, but the apology itself would be another mixed message. I sit in silence the entire ride.

The guy at the flyer rental place tries to swindle us for four times the original price because we kept it out overnight. Shadow explains that our friends have the credits and wangles the use of their equipment to hail the ship. When five fully armed, muscular gladiators march off the ship to collect us, the alien quickly changes his tune and tells us to disregard the upcharge.

As we board the vessel, Shadow gives report about the cartel and the price on his head—all of their heads. Dax comms Axxios, the pilot, and I feel the ship vibrate, take off, and thrust into hyperspace before Shadow and I leave the entry bay. We hurry straight to medbay with our precious cargo in hand.

“Miss Petra!” the doc exclaims, “We were all so worried about you when you didn’t arrive back last night. I was afraid something terrible had happened to you. I’m so grateful you’re doing fine.” His face slackens in genuine relief.

“Shadow and I had some harrowing experiences on that trip, but we got the goods.” I hope my pointed inclusion of Shadow’s name reminds him that I wasn’t the only one who risked their life getting the vulcan a buds. I point to Shadow’s abs, “Could you tend to those burns when you get a chance?”

“It’s nothing, Petra,” Shadow repositions himself, blocking his wounds from the doctor’s vision.

“Yes, yes of course.” The doc’s attention is focused on the backpack. “Let me get busy on the tincture. I’ll take a look at that later.” He grabs the bag and distractedly enters his lab. Boy, Shadow sure knows how to piss people off, even the nice doctor seems not to give a shit about those painful, festering wounds.

It’s only now I look around and see Grace is also in the room. She’s got String Thing in hand.

“Thank you both so much!” Grace injects. “Tyree’s not doing well. We’re hoping this medicine the doc’s going to make will help him. Otherwise…” she’s lowered her voice for no particular reason. Tyree’s so out of it he can’t hear her.

“I’ve been playing music for him on String Thing. It seems to calm him... or maybe it’s wishful thinking on my part.”

I take a moment to inspect him. Although I don’t have experience with anyone being sick with much more than a cold, it sure looks to me like Tyree’s dying. His skin is ashen, his mouth is pulled back in a rictus of pain, his eyes flutter in a decidedly creepy way like he’s so far from consciousness he’s in another world. I think of the backpack full of pitiful flowers and realize it was probably a wild goose chase. How could those lavender buds save this huge guy’s life?

It’s obvious Grace needs a break, and I need a well-deserved shower. The medbot tends to the wounds on my hands and arms, then Grace and I head toward our cabins for a quick refresh.