Page 331 of Gladiators of the Vagabond Boxset

Using my other hand to push the tentacle off my wrist, I repeated my actions with the second one, patting the pouch into place at the center of his chest. “It’s fine; I didn’t mind. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go into my room.”

I ducked through the doorway before he could reply, and I hoped he wouldn’t take my kindness for anything but what it was: a thank you for how he’d patiently helped me. Akri didn’t answer, but as the door swished closed, I heard his awkward, shuffling gait as he started to leave.

Alone again, I took a moment to appraise the room I was in.

It was a bunk room with four beds, two on each wall.

The wall furthest from me, across from the door, held eight tall cabinet doors, a bit like a row of high school lockers.

A door in one corner stood open, and I could see a tiny bathroom inside—an unexpected luxury.

Then my eyes landed on the neatly folded pile of clothing on one of the bottom bunk beds.

When I unfolded them, I was holding a pair of leggings, underwear, and a simple T-shirt.

Plain clothing, but it meant the world to me.

Finally, something to change into that would cover me up completely.

There was even a pair of socks and a soft pair of slippers, which meant I wouldn’t have to walk around barefoot.

Did I feel safe enough in here to undress completely and try out the shower?

The desire to get clean won out over my worry that maybe someone would try to come inside.

Rationally, I knew it was unlikely anyone would.

They were going to far too great lengths to be nice, to turn on me now.

I wasn’t even their priority; they had a dozen others to care for alongside me.

Placing the knife on a ledge inside the shower stall, I undressed in a hurry.

I hung the stolen coat on a peg in one of the eight lockers and tossed the torn remains of the lingerie they had forced me to wear into the trash.

They were ruined by that blue blood, and it wasn’t like I wanted to ever wear them again.

Under the warm water, I closed my eyes and just stood for a while, imagining that the water washed away not just the filth, but the bad memories too.

What would I be doing right now if I were home?

Getting dressed for my job as a paralegal at the office?

Sitting down for dinner with my family? Would I be asleep in my bed?

I couldn’t possibly know, because I didn’t even know the time.

Besides, how long had I already been gone?

They’d pulled me out of something that looked like a glass coffin, a stasis pod, I imagined.

There had been wires, electrodes or something, attached to my chest. Those had to have been to monitor my vitals.

So how long had I been stuck in that pod?

A desolate feeling washed over me. What if everyone I knew on Earth was dead? What if I’d traveled through space for years, unaware, asleep? There was nothing to return to, was there? Was that why none of my rescuers had mentioned returning me home—because there was no home to return to?

The crying was a release, but with my thoughts spiraling down the drain along with the water, I had to get a grip.

Focusing on the here and now, I located a nozzle in one of the shower walls.

Holding my hand beneath it landed me a dollop of what had to be soap.

I scrubbed at my skin and washed my hair with it, and when my tan skin was gleaming and clean again, I got out of the shower and dried myself with the single towel provided.

Clean and dressed in actual clothes, I curled up on one of the cots, a blanket around my shoulders and my knife tucked beneath the nearby pillow.

Now what? I was exhausted by what I’d lived through the past two days, days that felt like a lifetime.

I hadn’t eaten much or slept much since I’d woken to find myself in this nightmare.

I’d only just thought about food, and there was a rapping on the door, which was followed by an honest-to-God doorbell chime. I stared at the door in surprise, my hand shooting out to grab the knife again. I hesitated. Should I open the door or not? Who could it possibly be?

The knocking sound came again, and I made up my mind.

I couldn’t hide in here forever anyway. There was a little screen next to the door on this side too, and, hazarding a guess, I just pressed my hand to it, hoping that would make it open again.

It did, sliding to the side with a soft swishing noise.

I froze in place when I realized who was on the other side.

I’d expected it to be Akri again, or maybe Sunder.

It should have been one of the human women on the ship.

This definitely wasn’t any of them. I was staring at the huge, red chest of the four-armed alien.

The alien who’d stared at me like he wanted to eat me up in a sexy, fun way, and then ogled another pair of boobs without shame. Total creep.

Jerking my chin up was the only way I could look him in his bright yellow eyes, and I tried not to appreciate how handsome he was.

I itched to touch those black, springy curls of his to see if they were as soft as they looked.

Hiding my hands behind my back meant he couldn’t see the knife, but it also meant I would be slower to react if he did anything.

His lower arms were holding a tray laden with food, far more than I could eat. He spoke, his voice a lovely tenor that I couldn’t understand, but he’d thought of that. A box like the one Sunder had crackled with an electronic voice, translating for him: “I brought you food, beautiful human.”

I gaped at him. Had he just called me beautiful?

The audacity… We didn’t know each other; was he one of those guys who just flirted with everyone?

I hoped he’d just hand me the damn food and leave, but the way he was staring at me—with his full attention on my face—I had the feeling that he’d stand in front of my door as long as I let him.

“Right, thanks,” I said, reaching for the tray with both hands before I remembered I was holding a knife.

His eyes slowly drifted down from my face, over the shirt clinging to my chest, then landed on my hands.

His expression didn’t change when he saw the knife, though the pink freckles on his face brightened a little more.

He pressed the tray closer, and I took it from him, grunting in surprise at how heavy it was.

“Let me help you,” he offered, the electronic voice missing the obvious eagerness in his tone. He didn’t step inside, but all four of his hands reached for the tray again. I felt threatened, as if he were about to invade my private space. I winced and snapped at him before I could stop myself.

He froze in place and just watched as I hurriedly dropped the tray of food on the empty bed. Then I slammed my hand on the panel next to the door and watched it slide shut right in his face. Panting, I kept staring at that closed door, worried by the weird, tangled mess of feelings inside me.

Why did I feel bad about doing that? Why did I feel this weird urge to open the door again and apologize? My heart was racing, my palms were sweaty, and my stomach was a tight ball. I didn’t like having anyone as big as him close to me right now, not someone who looked as fit and virile as he did.

It was a good thing that the tray was piled with enough food for half a dozen people; I was going to stay inside this room for as long as they let me. I had everything I needed in here to survive—for now.