Page 86

Chapter Ten

N ova

“Oh Petra, you look hot!” I exclaim.

Shadow throws me a critical look, obviously disapproving my compliment, but Petra is dressed for her part. She’s wearing a shiny red bra and panty set that gives the word “sexy” a whole new meaning. Shadow looks ready to kill the next person who says anything about the way she’s dressed.

She hits the comm on the wall, “Could one of the women bring an oversized t-shirt to the exit area?” She spears Shadow with a questioning look. “Better?”

He nods almost imperceptibly, his jaw tight.

I barely notice much of this conversation because most of my attention is focused on the pain/kill collar in Drayke’s hand. It’s the moment of truth. I’m going to have to put the damn thing on. Every muscle in my body clenches in distress.

Drayke demonstrates again that the control on his wrist doesn’t activate the collar, then snaps it gently around my neck. Earlier, Steele connected a handle and chain to the collar so I am literally tethered to Drayke.

This is a level of humiliation I’ve never experienced before. I remember the first time I wore a collar. The Reptilian slavemaster slapped it on so hard and so tight it hurt for a week. I drag my thoughts away from that and focus on today.

Today I choose to go on this mission. I’m helping people.

Maddie runs in and hands Petra a t-shirt; on her tiny five-foot frame, it actually looks like a demure dress.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” I try to sound eager although I’m full of dread. I can’t imagine this operation going without a hitch.

“You all know the plan,” Zar tells us. “Everyone but Nova has an active comm unit and a gun. Steele, I see you have your favorite broadsword fastened on your back. Let’s hope you don’t have to use that.

“Petra and Shadow, you don’t need to stay too long. Return by 2300 at the latest. We’ll leave atmo as soon as the five of you are back on board. Every gladiator on the ship is armed and standing by. Should you need anything, we’ll be mobilized in a heartbeat. Be safe.”

Petra and Shadow turn right as soon as we’re at the bottom of the ramp. Steele, Drayke, and I make a left and jog to our coordinates. None of us want this mission to last one second longer than it has to.

The slave pens aren’t far away. They’re near the space docks for quick entry, sales, and exit. Oh my lord, I smell the building before I see it. It’s the cheapest setup imaginable. It reminds me of a big flea market from back home: mostly outdoor pens, with a few little permanent shacks sprinkled around haphazardly. Everything is dilapidated and looks like it has never seen better days because it was built like shit to begin with.

There’s a roof overhead, and rows and rows of open-air barred cages with one occupant in each. Other than shelter from the sun, there are no amenities of any kind. The sun is setting and it’s still well over a hundred sweltering degrees on this shithole planet.

I know some alien species smell worse than others, but the odors assaulting my nose have less to do with the differences in species, and more to do with the total lack of lavatory facilities. These are just pens, like those containing livestock at a rodeo. No beds, no toilets, certainly no running water, just straw floors and metal bars. I’ve seen cattle slated for slaughter with fresher hay and cleaner water. My heart breaks for these beings.

As we approach, I keep my head down, playing the part of the good slave, aware that Drayke controls my leash. The facility manager converges on us from one of the crappy little buildings. This reptilian doesn’t look like he’s missed any meals lately. He’s wiping crumbs off his bulging belly as he walks toward us. I see his demeanor change mid-step from haughty top-of-the-food-chain slavemaster to obsequious toady because of Drayke’s apparent position as a high-ranking Dacian. I hate this motherfucker already.

“Dr. Mereno?” his tone is fawning, smarmy.

Drayke nods arrogantly.

“I’m Oblet, I received the message from your ship that you’re looking for gladiatorial stock for your fighting stable. I have a list of the best candidates already organized for you.” He holds up his pad and approaches.

Drayke tenses, then rises to his full height.

“Dr. Mereno does not like to be within ten fiertos of others,” Steele commands.

Oblet takes a small step back, but the way the nostrils flare in his flat nose makes it clear he doesn’t like taking orders from anyone.

“Did my administrator not make it perfectly clear that I am looking for Mythrians and only Mythrians?” Drayke lifts his chin and looks down his nose at the Anterion. Ooh, Drayke can be a haughty asshole when he wants.

“Why yes,” Oblet stammers, “yes sir. But we have only one slave who fits that description and he is not worth buying. He’s in poor shape. Uh, he came to us that way. Of course, we’ve spared no expense trying to improve his health, to no avail.”

He approaches to hand his computer pad to Drayke. Steele forcefully steps between them, but not before Drayke growls.

“Now you’ve done it, you thick-headed Anterion. Are you feeble-minded? Did I not tell you the doctor does not want your filthy carcass within ten paces of him?” Steel’s tone is demanding, condescending. “Do you not see how elegantly he’s dressed? How rich his garments? Point us in the direction of the Mythrian and leave us.”

Well done, Steele. Catastrophe averted. At least for the moment.

Dr. Drayke sun Omrun

Luckily I have an ornamental handkerchief in my pocket. I want to place it over my own nose and mouth so I don’t have to breathe the fetid odors of the slave pens. I hand it to Nova, who’s practically tripping over her feet to keep up with me as we race to get this over with. I put no pressure on the leash, I don’t want to chafe her, or pull on her delicate throat.

When Steele finds the proper pen, I can’t believe the sight before my eyes. Axxios is well-bred. Of all the gladiators on board the ship, he most clearly came from high-born circumstances before he was enslaved. To see his silver-skinned twin, a nobleman in his own right, lying on that noxious pile of foul hishra, is bad enough. But as I move closer, I can see his health is in poor condition.

He probably weighs thirty percent less than his twin. He’s in a fetal position on his side; every bone in his spine clearly visible under his damaged skin. There are patches on his hips and buttocks that have been rubbed raw from lying in his own urine.

I have to look closely to see if he’s sleeping, comatose, or dead. I sink to my knees in the filth to minister to him. Upon further inspection, even in his despicable condition, the resemblance to his brother is striking. Though he is silver and his brother is gold, there is no doubt this is Axxios’s twin.

“Braxxus. Braxxus.” I call gently. I don’t want to scare him. If he wakes to see myself and Steele leaning over him, I don’t want his self-protective instincts to kick in. He doesn’t look like he has the strength to move, much less make a misguided attempt to struggle with us.

His eyes open to slits, as if the fading sunlight is too much for his retinas to bear.

“I’m Dr. Drayke sun Omrun. I’ve come at Axxios’s request. We’re here to buy you and bring you on board our vessel. Your brother awaits you there.”

“ Drack you,” he whispers. “Axxios is dead.” He’s panting. The effort of those five words winded him.

I anticipated this reaction. Why would a male who’s been treated so badly believe one thing anyone tells him?

“I know Axxios. I’ve tended to him when he’s been injured sparring. He’s spoken of you often. He calls you his gem.”

He seems nonplussed, still panting, now through clenched teeth.

“He has a short thick scar above his right nipple,” I tell him to prove I know his brother. “I’m a friend. We’ve come to take you off this planet and reunite you with your gem.”

Still no response.

“Even if we’re lying, what have you got to lose? If we’re enemies and kill you, it would be putting you out of your misery. If we’re friends, we’ll save your life.” I don’t expect a response.

He answers by putting up no resistance as I begin my examination. I’ve brought my medical bag and put on a pair of protective gloves. Who knows what kind of communicable diseases could be running rampant in this disgusting drackhole ?

I palpate his head, behind his ears, his jaw, and downward. He’s in such rough shape, I have no intention of dealing with any but the most urgent issues. There will be plenty of time when we return to the Slacker to address small issues like vermin, bedsores, and the scars in various stages of healing I see all over his malnourished body.

I push the filthy hishra to the side to get a better look at him. Both Steele and I stifle gasps as we see the deplorable state of his flesh. There are dozens of huge, gaping wounds, many in various stages of putrefaction. The smell of his rotting flesh assails us. I’m thankful Nova is backed into the corner and can’t see this. I’ve been through medical school, I’ve dissected cadavers; I’ve rarely seen, or smelled, anything this disgusting.

I use the medpad to examine his internal organs. One of the necrotizing wounds on his back appears to be a deep puncture from a sword. There’s severe internal injury. Braxxus's general external condition is nothing compared to the state of this internal wound. It isn’t worth wasting another moment in this repugnant place. The faster we get him to an antiseptic room in medbay, the sooner I can begin healing him.

I take a modicum to glance at his genitals to insure he hasn’t already been castrated. Luckily he is still intact. He might not wish to live if his manhood was taken.

“Steele, call Zar. We need three males and a hover stretcher. Tell them to hurry. Tell that odious Anterion we’re buying this one. I want this male on our vessel in less than ten minimas if possible.”

I’ve been so consumed with Braxxus's condition, I’ve been able to overcome the bonding sickness, with no preoccupation with Nova. Now that I have a moment’s time on my hands, my obsession kicks in with a vengeance.

“Steele, mind your distance from the female,” the warning tone in my voice is fierce. I try to focus my attention back to my patient.

“Braxxus, we’re bringing you on board our ship. I’ll begin treating your wounds as soon as we arrive.”

Oblet arrives with his pad and barges into the cell. This puts him within ten fiertos of Nova; I rise and give him a full-throated growl; my nostrils flare, my eyes narrow.

“It’s amazing you grew to be an adult,” Steele snarls at the reptilian. “You don’t have the brains of a small child.” He grabs Oblet’s pad and hands it to me to look at. Steele was raised a slave, I don’t believe he knows how to read.

“30,000 credits for a male as sick as this?” I’m incredulous. I don’t want to bargain with the Anterion, but I have to let him know I don’t approve of his price gouging.

“Take it or leave it.” He’s mighty impertinent for a male of his stature who’s standing in the presence of a huge, well-trained warrior such as Steele.

I reach out to hand him my card for him to take the credits. He ignores the card and, his voice unctuous, offers, “I’ll take her in trade and give you an extra 10,000.” I’m already in action when his hand touches Nova’s cheek.

My vision immediately turns red. All higher thought ceases in a heartbeat.

Kill. Kill. Death. Blood. Kill.

Nova

Holy shit. Drayke was sane and in control one minute and like a crazed, feral animal the next. His face is a tight rictus of rage. His movements are so swift I can barely track them. Luckily, he didn’t reach for his gun, or that sleazy reptile would be lying dead in a heap of hay and feces.

Steele was bending down to ready Braxxus for transport. With him in that position, Drayke had easy access to the lethal three-foot-long sword Steele carried sheathed on his back.

In one easy movement, Drayke slipped the sword out of its wide scabbard and swung it at Oblet’s neck. The asshole might be out of shape, but he has a strong self-preservation instinct, because he ducked, turned on his heel and ran from the cell.

“Kill,” is the only word Drayke can utter. He keeps repeating it in a flat, deadly chant. His eyes are hollow and unseeing. Steele is forcefully holding Drayke back from running after the reptilian. Drayke must retain some ability for rational thought; he allows Steele to grab his sword, heft it over his own head, and sheath it behind him in one practiced movement.

We’re on high alert now. I assume Oblet will return with reinforcements. What if he refuses to sell Braxxus to us?

Drayke stalks toward me, his blue irises almost black; the word “kill” repeating over and over from his usually-composed mouth. I glance at Steele and notice every muscle in his body tense as he leans forward, poised perhaps to intervene between Drayke and me if I’m attacked.

I shake my head at Steele and open my arms to Drayke. I know he’s in there. I know the kind, loving, protective doctor is somewhere inside the deranged murderous male who just came within an inch of beheading that repulsive reptilian. Drayke falls to his knees at my feet, his arms around my waist as he pulls me toward him.

My smell. I realize my personal smell might calm him, even in his current state. I take his head in my hands and press his nose into the vee between my legs. He takes huge gulps of air through the fabric of my dress. It doesn’t seem like the time for modesty, and he’s too out of it to even remember that Steele is right behind him, standing sentinel over both of us.

I pull my attention to our predicament. I’m certain either Oblet and his sadistic cadre of guards or our own crew of gladiators are going to come running toward us any second. I’m hoping breathing in my scent will calm Drayke enough that he can walk out of here on his own steam without another homicide attempt.

I hear pounding footsteps and decide whether it’s friend or foe I can’t bear for any of them to see either Drayke or me in this position. I step back, extricate myself from his grasp, and smooth the dress over my thighs. Steele pulls him to a standing position.

“Keep breathing, Drayke. Take deep breaths. We’ll be back in our room soon. Our room on our safe vessel, in a short time. I’ll be all yours then. All yours. No one else’s.”

His eyes widen as he looks at me. It’s as if he’s asking me a question he can’t articulate.

“Yes.” I nod. “All yours. Just you and me. In our bed.” He seems to calm, nodding in sync with me. His eyes, still black, are focusing on my mouth.

Stryker, Dax, and Doctore run in with two hover stretchers. I realize Steele must have commed them and asked for a second one—for Drayke. It’s so sad things have come to this, but perhaps Steele was right to request another.

Braxxus’s transfer onto his stretcher elicits a soft moan, but he's so still I think he's comatose and feeling no pain. All the gladiators are looking at Drayke, assessing him. We’re all wondering if we can get him to walk with us, or if he should just be tied to a stretcher and swiftly transported to the safety of the ship.

His body tenses again and a loud growl escapes him. He puts his weight on the balls of his feet and lifts his tightened fists. He’s not in fight or flight mode, he’s incapable of flight. He’s ready to attack all four humongous, muscled gladiators.

Stryker presses a button on the stretcher and recessed legs snap down so it now rests on the ground. All four gladiators surround Drayke. He always seems so tall and potent to me, but now, surrounded by a thousand pounds of gladiator muscle he’s clearly overpowered.

I have to give them credit, they talk among themselves and organize a takedown designed for maximum effectiveness and minimum aggression. They have him strapped to the stretcher almost before he knows what hit him.

We maneuver down the walkway at a run. Stryker veers off at the main office while we wait for him to complete the paperwork. When that’s finished, we jog toward the docks, hoping to leave atmo ASAP.

I hear Steele comming Zar, “If Shadow and Petra aren’t back, have them meet us at the vessel immediately. We may have trouble with law enforcement. Let’s get the drack out of here.”

It’s perfect timing; as we approach the Slacker’s ramp we see Shadow and Petra running toward us from the other direction.

“I hope you got a lot of credits,” Stryker tells them as we board the ship. “That dracking Anterion drained our account. Had the balls to tell me to call the local badges if I wanted to dispute it.”

~.~

I’m in one of the private rooms in medbay sitting at Drayke’s bedside. It’s a small space, maybe eight by ten, stark and utilitarian. Two robotic medbot arms are folded against the metal wall. There’s a window in the door, so we have no privacy whatsoever.

Drayke’s wrists are tied in soft restraints to the arms of the bed. I begged Steele to figure out how to give him enough drugs to knock him out after Drayke screamed obscenities for fifteen minutes straight. He’s resting quietly now, thank goodness.

I've scooted my chair as close to him as possible and I’m combing my fingers through his lovely blue-black hair. I know my presence calms him, because when I went to the adjoining restroom for just a moment he began tossing his head and pulling heavily against the restraints.

Axxios knocks at the door, “May I come in?”

“Sure.”

Axxios pulls up the only other chair in the little room and sits a few feet from me even as he glances over to make sure Drayke is completely out of it. If he were to wake up and see me so near another male we’d be in for another round of complete mayhem.

“Steele told the medbot to sedate him. He seems to be out,” I inform Axxios.

I take this opportunity to take a good look at this male. Axxios is humanoid. His skin is an exquisite color, like pure gold. He is the most heavily-muscled male I’ve seen on any planet in this galaxy. His neck is thick and densely-corded with muscles. I’ve watched him around the ship, he moves with an elegance and grace that signifies highborn breeding.

“May I speak freely?” He waits patiently for my answer, his eyes never wavering from mine.

I’m debating whether I want to ask him to leave. I’m certain Axxios is going to ask me to do whatever it takes to make Drayke better so he can treat Braxxus, who is clearly dying in the next room.

He’s still waiting. It would be rude to say no. “Yes,” I say curtly although I really don’t want to have this talk.

“I obviously have an ulterior motive. Of course I want you to let the doctor bond with you. I’d love it if you would share intercourse with the male so his insanity would lift and he could stroll into my brother’s room and attend to him. But I won’t ask you to do that, Nova.

“We’ve all been slaves. We’ve all been forced to do things against our will. The time for that is behind us. Free will. We all deserve it.”

Okay, those are wonderful words, but he wouldn’t have waltzed in here and started this conversation if there wasn’t a very big request about to come out of his mouth.

“Braxxus isn’t just a brother, Nova. He’s my twin. Most Mythrian males are born as twins. We have psychic bonds, connections that are deeper than genetics. We... share thoughts, and emotions. If he dies, a part of me dies, too. There are... things in life I will never be able to have if my twin dies. I don’t tell you this to pressure you to say yes, but to explain why I have to ask.

“I’ve researched Drayke’s race, the Dacians. I’ve read a great deal about their bonding physiology and customs.” He hands me a computer pad. “I understand you barely know the doctor, and the idea of a bonding ceremony is too quick for you. But I’ve watched you with him, from afar, of course, and you seem to genuinely enjoy his company.

“I believe I’ve found a possible workaround in the literature. Something you might feel comfortable with that wouldn’t entail fully bonding with him, but might allow him to regain his sanity long enough to save my brother.” He pauses for a long breath. This is obviously uncomfortable for him; he knows he’s pressuring me. “This is a completely selfish request, believe me, I thought long and hard about asking this. I probably shouldn’t, but I have to.”

He hands me the pad. “I’ve pulled several articles from the Intergalactic Computer Database. There are some informative ones about his physiology and the bonding chemistry, but I think the one that is most helpful is written from an anthropological viewpoint. I’ve indexed it and you’ll find it first. It’s translated into your language.

“Tyree’s at the helm, I’ll be in Braxxus's room next door. When you’re finished reading, could you talk to me?”

“I have no idea what you’re asking, Axxios.” I’m sure he noticed I didn’t reach out to take the proffered pad.

“Brianna tells me the conversation will embarrass you. She recommended I let you read about it instead. I may not have much time left with my brother, I’ll be in his room.”

Oh, that last comment was a little heavy-handed, but I won’t hold it against him. It’s obvious how close he is with Braxxus; of course he wants me to do whatever it takes to keep him alive. I take the pad and he leaves.

I stand up to lean over the raised sidebar of the bed. I kiss Drayke’s forehead and smooth his hair back. I’ve only known him a short while, but we’ve gotten close. I’m not only attracted to him physically, but he’s such a kind and thoughtful male. No man in my life has ever tried to make me comfortable or protect me.

My brothers were rowdy and took pleasure in overpowering me. My father was distracted and overwhelmed with nine kids. He was an authoritarian when he tried to maintain control. He really didn’t know how to tend to his only daughter. Drayke’s kindness has softened my heart and enlightened me in many ways. But I still can’t imagine eternity with anyone. Ever. Certainly I can’t commit to someone I’ve known for such a short span of time.

I start reading the first article that pops up. “Dacian Bonding Rituals and their Effects on the Socio-Spiritual Fabric of Society” in the Intergalactic Journal of Anthropological Research . Let’s see if I can stay awake through the first page.

Considering the male I’m falling for has asked me to bond with him, I find this article fascinating—and it scares the pants off me. It reiterates that physically Dacian males will go insane if they don’t bond with their mates within days or weeks. A few lucky ones last a few months before they go totally bonkers. But the part labeled “Culture and Mores of the Anterosian Religion” is where my stomach clenches in fear.

“Followers of Lord Anteros complete their bonding ceremony in what they call the ‘Opening of the Three Gates.’ The Three Gates are opened one each on three successive nights. Each evening begins with the male and female engaging in ritual bath and prayer. On the first night, the First Gate is opened when the female engages in…”

I skim from here. The long and the short of it is that the first night is fellatio, the second night is anal, and the third night is... just what you’d think it is. The article went on and on about every little specific way it is supposed to go down, no pun intended. But the basics are pretty, well—basic.

I call out to Axxios, still in his twin’s room next door; he’s back in Drayke’s exam room in a heartbeat. I gesture for him to take a seat and order myself not to blush.

“I understand about the…” My cheeks are already heated and I’m stammering, but I promise myself I’ll finish this conversation. “Gates. What I don’t understand is how this is supposed to help me, or Drayke, or your brother.”

Axxios pins me with his stare. “I didn’t really say this would help you or Drayke, I’m afraid. It would only save Braxxus's life.”

He pauses. Does he want me to beg for him to explain? When I glance back at him I can see he’s anguished, staring down at the floor, shoulders slumped.

“I feel like drack asking either you or Drayke to do this when I have no real long-term solution. But it’s my brother’s life hanging in the balance, so, yes, I’m asking.” He takes a deep breath and continues, “Here are my thoughts after reading all that material. This bonding process has been going on for millennia. Drayke couldn’t be the first male to have devolved into this state.

“The way I see it, the first gate can be accomplished with a male who is comatose. It appears whether he’s awake or completely out of it he’s capable of getting an erection.” He glances over at the bed and the tent Drayke’s sprouting at his hips announces the truth.

“The second gate will... uh, require his participation. So my hypothesis is that completing the first gate will give him a respite. I assume he’ll regain his sanity for a period of time. It is in that window that I’m hoping he’ll perform surgery on my brother.”

Both our heads swivel toward the door when Braxxus emits a long, low moan. Axxios jumps up to check on him, but returns in less than a minute. “I thought maybe he was regaining consciousness, but no.” He shakes his head. “Seems worse, actually. He’s panting constantly. Unable to take anything but the shallowest breaths.”

“The medbot, the equipment, seems pretty sophisticated. Can we just ask it to fix your brother like Steele asked it to give Drayke a shot?”

Axxios shakes his head, sadly. “Even with all this technology,” he gestures to the medbot arms in their holsters on the walls, “they need a physician to program them, to tell them what to do, to orchestrate their intricate movements. I’m the most technically savvy person on this ship and this is far above my abilities.”

“So Axxios, you’ve read all this material, I only got to the first article. What will happen if no more gates are opened after the first one?”

He sighs. “I read all of it. I crawled all over the Intergalactic Database, Nova. At some point, and I don’t know how long it will be, he’ll regress to where he is now. Before that, he may choose to commit sanctu, ritual suicide.”

The room is bathed in complete silence for long minutes. I’m not even thinking, I’m not capable of it. My brain is like a frozen computer.

Axxios seems about to put his hand gently on my knee, but pulls it back, obviously thinking better of it.

“I’ll leave you to your thoughts, Nova. You’re a good female. It was generous of you to even listen to my request. I’m a selfish male. I shouldn’t have asked. But I’ll never regret the supplication, not really. I’ll go to my grave knowing I did everything possible to save my brother. But I’ve done everything I can do. Now the decision is yours.”

He reaches out and this time he does gently touch my knee, holding it there until I raise my tear-rimmed eyes to his.

“I’ll respect your decision, Nova. If you can’t do this, I will understand. I promise I’ll never hold it against you.”

He stands up, thumps his chest with his fist, and bows his head low. It is the highest sign of respect a gladiator can bestow. It is deeply meaningful to me and touches my heart.

“Truly, Nova, the choice is in your hands.”

My eyes are too full of tears to see anything more than a watery blur, but I hear the door close behind him and know I’m alone with Drayke.

I scoot my chair back over to Drayke’s bedside and pet his head. It helps me think.

This ship is now my home. I have nowhere else in the entire universe to go. I’m not going back to Earth; these people are now my family. I’ve never said one word to the male, but in a way, Braxxus is like family, too.

Even though I haven’t known him long, I have deep feelings for the male lying on this bed. After my initial distrust, he’s proved to be the kindest, most attentive male a woman could hope for.

A tiny smile touches my face as I remember him in the solarium, feeding me with his own dracking hand. Then the smile fades and I’m aware of sexual desire sparking between my legs. There is no arguing that under different circumstances I’d be more than happy to put my mouth and lips on him.

But the bonding, the forever thing? No one could say yes to that after knowing someone for such a short period of time.

I play things out in my head. So I open the first gate with Drayke, he gets back to his old self, he patches Braxxus up—if that’s even possible. And then what? He slowly or quickly devolves and we’re back to where we are right now?

It suddenly strikes me that this might not be so terrible. It won’t be a hardship on me, it’s not like I’m making some huge sacrifice to touch Drayke. I know I’d like it, didn’t I beg to do this the other night? It might save Braxxus's life. And it will bring Drayke back on line mentally, maybe allow him to make his own decision about sanctu .

I walk out and enter Braxxus's room. It’s the same dimensions as mine, but its presence is filled with Axxios who is hunched over his twin’s bed and weeping. I don’t think he heard me enter.

“I’ll do it.”

He whips his head toward me, eyes wide in question.

“I’ll do it. How long do you think he’ll have before…”

“I read all the literature, Nova. I have no idea. The gates are supposed to be opened one each for three days. As far as the symptoms, I don’t know what happens if the Second gate isn’t opened.”

“I want to do this in our cabin,” I say firmly. If this is going to happen, it will be done in a way that is more comfortable for me, and in the way Drayke would want it done. “I want him untied.”

“We can move his bed to your cabin, no problem. But when that sedative wears off he’ll start raging again. You have to maintain your safety, Nova.”

“As you said, the Dacian race has survived for eons with these biochemical quirks. I’ll have to trust that when nature takes its course, the biological imperative will dictate that the male doesn’t kill his female in a rage before the gates are all opened. I’ll take my chances,” I say that last part with finality; I’m not budging on that.

He nods. “As you wish.”