Page 5

CHAPTER 5

“D o you have anything that’s going to poke me, prod me, or stick me?”

Rona was alone with Murdok.

As soon as the boarding ramp had closed, the other two Mercs, Aeron and Zeth, had headed for the cockpit.

Rona, meanwhile, had been forced to ride Murdok’s shoulder in the other direction, toward the back of the ship.

Along the way, she’d caught glimpses of a bedroom with bunks, a spartan bathroom, and an armory with racks of rifles, pistols, flamethrowers, grenade launchers, and other implements of destruction.

At last, they had arrived at this room, which Rona took to be a small cargo hold.

It was empty, save for a large metal trunk in the corner and metal rings all along the walls.

Rona guessed those rings were there as a way to strap down cargo during flight.

As soon as they had entered the room, Murdok had taken Rona off his shoulder and set her down on her feet.

She was free to move again, but the door was already closed, and the big Merc had positioned his body in front of it, further hindering her escape.

“Hey!” Murdok growled.

“I asked you a question, woman. Do you have anything in your pockets that’s going to poke me, prod me, or stick me?”

The menace in his voice sent a shiver racing up Rona’s spine.

Somehow, being alone with this man was even more scary than being with the three Mercs together.

“No,” she answered.

“You’d better not. Now go stand against that wall there and don’t move. If you try anything clever, I’ll make you regret it. Understand?”

Rona understood.

She did as Murdok told her and stood with her back against the far wall of the empty cargo hold.

The air inside the room was nearly as stifling as the Common Hall had been, but Rona was shivering as if it were freezing cold.

Murdok stood and regarded her for a moment, his augmetic eyes glowing within the shadows of his hood like the eyes of some nocturnal predator, a vulpire or a shadowulf.

Then he pulled the hood back, and Rona gasped.

If Aeron’s face was brutal, Murdok’s was downright oppressive.

Angular and anvil hard, covered in scars and a coarse black beard so dense it looked as if it would require a diamond-edged blade just to trim it.

As Rona watched in horror, a wicked smile appeared within the midst of that beard—twin rows of sharp, white fangs.

“Don’t be afraid, woman. I’m not going to hurt you… unless you give me a reason to.”

Rona didn’t find that particularly reassuring.

At least it wasn’t Zeth she was alone with.

She’d already given that one a reason to hurt her when she’d stabbed him with her knife.

Or tried to stab, rather.

She watched warily as Murdok went over to the trunk and knelt in front of it.

The lid opened with a pneumatic hiss, and the Merc plunged his huge arms inside.

After a bit of rummaging, he found what he was looking for and smiled.

He took out a collar and leash.

The realization hit Rona like a splash of cold water to the face.

This room wasn’t for cargo; it was a holding cell, a dungeon .

The Mercs were killers for hire, but sometimes they might need to take prisoners too, and this room was where they would keep them, leashed to those metal rings Rona had noticed all around the walls.

The floor rumbled beneath her feet.

The ship was lifting off.

Now she was well and truly trapped.

Even if she could somehow slip past Murdok and get through the door, there was nowhere for her to go.

The armory , she thought.

I could get a gun. Kill them all…

And then what?

Even if she somehow managed to slay a trio of elite mercenaries—which she wouldn’t—but even if she did, she didn’t know how to fly a ship like this one, let alone land it properly.

The end result would be dying in a fiery crash.

Maybe that was preferable to letting the Mercs have their way with her?

No.

Rona was a survivor.

She would get through this.

She would endure. And when the opportunity finally presented itself…

then she would make her move.

She tried her best not to shiver as Murdok stepped forward and placed the leather collar around her throat.

His fingers were massive but surprisingly nimble as they fastened the metal latch and locked it with a magnetic key.

Then he connected the chain leash to one of the loops on the wall and locked it in place as well.

Rona was now completely at his mercy.

Who am I kidding? she thought.

I’ve been at his mercy since the moment he carried me onto this ship.

Since the moment we left the Common Hall.

Since Aeron first laid eyes on me on that stage.

Murdok towered above her, staring down at her with hunger in his dark eyes.

“Take off your boots.”

“There’s nothing in them,” Rona said.

“I didn’t ask if there was anything in them. I told you to take them off. You’re starting to make me angry, woman. And I don’t think you would like me when I’m angry.”

I don’t like you at all , Rona thought, but she kept her mouth shut and did as the Merc told her.

“Give ’em here,” Murdok growled once she had finished taking her boots off.

Rona handed them over, and the Merc peered inside each one as if searching for contraband.

Then he tossed them away into the corner of the room.

“Turn around.”

Rona turned.

“Put your hands on the wall and spread your legs.”

Again, she did as she was told.

She had no choice but to stand there and take it as Murdok crouched and patted her down, starting with her left ankle and working his way up her leg.

His huge fingers came perilously close to her center before he stopped and repeated the process with her right leg.

Rona could feel her heart slamming hard inside her chest. It wasn’t excitement that was making it do that.

It was fear. She didn’t like this man touching her that way.

She didn’t .

Behind her, Murdok rose.

“Take your hands off the wall and put them down by your sides,” he commanded.

Rona obeyed. In one quick motion, the Merc grabbed her jacket and dragged it off her body.

“Hey!” Rona shouted as she whirled around to face him.

“What are you doing?”

Murdok ignored her.

He rifled through the pockets of her jacket, then tossed it in the corner with her boots.

“Lift your arms.”

“But—”

“Lift. Your. Arms.”

Rona lifted her arms, and in a flash her shirt was gone, yanked up and off by Murdok’s impossibly quick hands.

Rona gasped and covered her naked breasts.

The Merc gave the sweat-stained top a quick sniff, then he tossed it into the corner with her other clothes.

“Put your arms down, woman. I’m not done searching you.”

“You think I’m smuggling a weapon in my boobs?”

Jesus, why did she keep doing that?

She was alone with the biggest, most dangerous man she’d ever laid eyes on, leashed, collared, and half naked—yet she couldn’t seem to stop backtalking him.

“Keep it up,” Murdok said.

“And you’re gonna get yourself hogtied.”

Rona didn’t want that.

She dropped her arms to her sides.

Murdok smiled and nodded appreciatively.

“Aeron sure knows how to pick ’em,” he said.

He pulled off his combat gloves and stuffed them in the back pocket of his pants.

Then he reached out and touched her, skin-on-skin.

He didn’t go for her breasts, however.

Not right away. Instead, he ran the backs of his fingers down the flesh of her right arm.

His knuckles felt as rough as rhino skin, like he spent his days punching rocks for fun.

Rona trembled at that touch, and she tried to ignore the goosebumps that lifted in its wake, as if her skin was literally reaching out to him, begging for more.

“Nice tats,” he said.

Murdok was referring to the ink on Rona’s right arm, a reminder of more prosperous times, when her wages from the mine had afforded her such luxuries as tattoos.

The image was of a viper, its scaled body coiling around her arm, its fangs bared on her upper chest. It wasn’t just a decoration, it was also a warning for any man who might try to put his hands on her, and it had worked reasonably well against the miners back in the village.

With Murdok, not so much.

“Nice tits too…”

The Merc was clearly a man who took what he wanted and brooked no disobedience.

When he turned his attention to Rona’s naked breasts, she resisted the urge to cover herself.

When he touched them, she did her best not to flinch.