Page 13 of Hooded (Gladiators of the Gryn #5)

FERN

This Gryn is arrogant, full of self-importance, and has no compunction about what he did in the dome for entertainment.

He is a killer, pure and simple.

He also smells of spice, and when he backed me against the console, his enormous, clean body pressing up against me, my chin in his hand, I virtually couldn’t remember my name, yet all I could think of was his.

I do not need to be reacting to the big lump of feather and muscle in this way. It is severely compromising my ability to think straight and work out what the hell happened to my mark.

Did he die on Trefa? Even if Klynn doesn’t want to go back, it looks like I’m going to have to.

And what’s worse, I’ll need to break the news to Markus, who is humorless at the best of times. I risk a glance at the massive Gryn, who seems more interested in managing his great feathers than anything else.

I can’t be surprised at his indifference. I kidnapped him, stunned him multiple times, then compounded the situation by locking him up. I actually locked this huge gladiator up, turned the water jets on him.

I’m not sure I could have handled things worse. Oh yes, I then let him manipulate me into letting him go.

So now I have a bridge filled with a feathered destroyer who is surely out for revenge. No mark and employer who is going to be incandescent with rage at my failure. I’m never going to work again.

Could my day get any worse?

The pulsar bolt striking my port engine suggests it can.

Klynn is knocked off his feet, executes a perfect forward roll, and is back up again before I can blink.

“What was that?” he growls.

“Pulsar cannon strike.” I pull up all the schematics. “The shields held, but if they manage to hit us again in the same spot, we’ll lose the engine.”

Klynn continues his growling, mostly at the console I’m working on as I attempt to identify our attackers.

“Vrexing space pirates,” he snarls as the image of their ship comes up.

“What do pirates want with me?” I wonder out loud. “This ship is too small to be carrying cargo of any value.”

“What species are they?” Klynn asks.

I run the ship through my database, and it clicks as it finally finds a match. “Tormelek,” I say over my shoulder. “Mean anything to you?”

“Vrexing Habosu but hairy,” he grumbles. “They want flesh. It’s how they make their fortune.”

“They’re going to eat us?”

“No, little fury, they’re going to enslave us,” Klynn says, eyes like two burning embers.

I feel like time has sped up and slowed down all at the same time. My mind is unable to process what he has just said.

All this time in this galaxy and—while I’ve heard slavery is something which is generally not condoned out here, it happens anyway—I had hoped I’d avoid it.

Specifically, becoming one.

Plus, with all the tech I have, all the fire power, all my knowledge, I can’t possibly have left myself so wide open for this to happen.

Or have I?

And even worse, I’ve got Klynn into it too. He might be feral, but this isn’t his fight.

With my brain back on all cylinders, I pull Beebie from my pocket. Klynn flares his wings, but I ignore him.

“Go hide, sweetheart,” I whisper to the little vidra. He gives me a baleful look, but as soon as I put him down, he skips off into ship.

Now I have to keep this thing intact because no one is going to hurt my Beebie.

“They are not enslaving anyone if I have anything to do with it,” I respond. “Hold on. I’m going to try to lose them in the nebula.”

I swing the ship away from the Tormelek and execute a dive into a nearby gas cloud, hoping it masks our engine signature enough I can evade them and get closer to the space station.

They won’t try anything if there are other ships in the vicinity. Every species hates a space pirate and will happily fire on them without compunction. Providing they are in range.

I need other ships within range.

The gas cloud is not as big as I’d hoped, and no sooner are we inside it, we’re bursting out the other side, where a second Tormelek ship is waiting.

I release a stream of expletives as they fire grappling beams at us, pushing the engines to the max in the hope they can break away.

“We’re not going anywhere, ,” Klynn says, standing stock still in the center of my bridge, staring at the carnage unfolding outside. “If you want your ship to stay in one piece, I suggest you stop resisting.”

“I’m not letting them take us,” I grind. “We’re not slaves, and if we can get closer to the space station, we can call for help.”

“I’d rather escape their clutches than be fired into the vacuum of space, little female,” Klynn says, almost kindly.

“You might be able to escape, but I won’t, and fuck knows what will happen to me,” I shout at him.

In two short paces, he has me by my upper arms, his eyes tranquil pools as they gaze down on me.

“Nothing will happen to you, little fury. You have my word as a gladiator and a Gryn warrior.”

I stare up at him. I really think he means it.

Which is when the gas hisses into the cabin as the oxygen is drained. I do my level best to remain upright and conscious, as does Klynn, but we both know we’re fighting a losing battle.

So, when it comes, the darkness is not a surprise. But it’s certainly not welcome either.