Page 13 of Murgul
Tsk, tsk. Look at you, yelling at yourself.
Vrog’s maniacal laughter reverberates around my skull, but he finally falls silent.
Shaking my head at their shortsightedness, I turn on my heel and stalk out of the cargo bay. I cannot force them to do anything they do not wish to do, and I am not going to cause myself needless pain trying to change their minds. However, Idowant to see the arse chewing their females give them when they are all reunited.
Yesssssssss, that will provide me with some level of entertainment. Since you will not let me kill anyone.
There is no one for you to kill!
I mean… should one of the females ask it of me… I would gladly beat respect into your brothers for their idiocy. A mate is everything.
Are you ever going to explain to me how you know of such things? Or how you even exist?
As usual, Vrog falls silent, refusing to answer two of the same questions I have asked about for orbital rotations.
You are not yet ready for that, Murgul. Soon.
Shock makes my steps stutter as I reach the door, and the flat surface glides open at my approach. That is the first inkling of hope I have ever had regarding my unwelcome mental guest.
Before I can make my exit, his scent hits me. Ruarc rounds the corner, and I hiss in response. His steps come to an abrupt halt, eyeing me warily.
He should be wary; were it not for my precious one, his blood would decorate the dining hall.
“Murgul… what are you doing?”
Refusing to answer Ruarc’s foolhardy question, I ignore Slavic and Einar, calling out to me from across the cargo bay as I stride towards my current least favorite sibling. I make him nervous. The movement at his throat as he swallows betrays him. Giving credit where it is due, he impresses me when he plants his feet, refusing to retreat.
Oh, has big brother finally grown some balls?
It would appear so.
Stalking forward, I do not stop until we are nose to nose. Without warning, I headbutt him in the nose, satisfaction filling me when his blood scent hits the air before wrapping my tail around his neck and launching him down the corridor. He slams into the wall next to the open door where Slavic and Einar are staring with wide eyes. Ruarc groans as he unsteadily gets to his feet, one hand holding his bleeding—possibly broken—nose while he glares at me with vicious intent.
Looking down, I see the bag he dropped. Using my tail, I pick it up and throw it at him, and rasp out a laugh when it hits him in his battered face. Turning to leave, I allow a smile to crease my face when his enraged bellow echoes down the corridor behind me. Just before entering my quarters, the ship shudders beneath my feet, signaling my brother’s departure from the Zenith.
The gods of Ruk help them, for there is no netherworld like the ire of a scorned female.
They are so fucked.
‘Fucked?’ Is this another one of the humans’ words you stole?
I did not steal it. I merely borrowed it for long-term use.
Chapter Eleven
GWENDOLYN
I’m notsure how long I’ve been loitering around the dining hall waiting for everyone to show up for breakfast, but it’s been a while. What I wouldn’t give for a wristwatch or some way to keep track of the time during the day… orrotation,as Murgul calls it. Glancing around the empty room, I shrug my shoulders and go ahead and enter my order into the replicator the way Murgul showed me. Thanks to the sophisticated translator Einar installed in my head, I can read what the replicator says, but that doesn’t mean my brain has a literal translation for the words I’m reading. Only time and asking questions will fill the gaps in my lack of alien education. But… seriously? Who really expects to be abducted by aliens?
Seconds later, a ding announces that my alien version of biscuits with sausage gravy is done. Sure, the gravy is blue, the biscuits are pink, and the chunks of meat are purple, but it tastes almost the same, so I’m not going to quibble. Grabbing the plate, I take it out of the replicator and then hit the buttons for a glass of the refreshing fruit juice I’ve come to favor. It’s not coffee or caffeine, but it is pretty good. Walking over to the closest table, I take a seat and dig into my breakfast.
Where is everyone?
The dining hall is just as empty now as it was when I arrived earlier. Did I miss some sort of memo or something? I don’t recall any of the girls mentioning that we had planned to meet elsewhere this morning. It’s been sort of an unspoken agreement that everyone gathers here first thing to socialize before going their separate ways for the rest of the day, before meeting again when it’s time for dinner. The familiarity of shared meals has helped us–myself and the other women–assimilate more easily into our situation. I am, however, a little surprised that Murgul hasn’t shown up by now. It’s rare for him to leave my side for very long.
Finishing my meal, I clean up after myself and leave the dining hall. Wandering up and down the hallways, I don’t see anyone anywhere, and the first inkling of concern slides through me. Glancing over at the Ruby and Rowan’s closed bedroom doors, I shake my head in exasperation. The guys guard their privacy greedily, so access to their private quarters is couple-specific, so I don’t even attempt to open either one of them. However, Falon’s room has been keyed to allow most of us to come and go as we please, so I head there to see what Heather and Bambi are doing. Slapping my hand against the panel, I unlock it and enter, expecting to see my friends loitering inside.
Emptiness greets me. “Okay, Gwen. Don’t panic. There has to be a logical explanation for why everyone appears to be missing.” Spinning on my heel to leave, I literally run into Bambi as she’s entering the bedroom.