Sons of Lyra: Slave Princess [Sons of Lyra Series] Page 2

  "Enough,” he said and walked past her, striding down through the corridors towards the woman's room. He'd find out firsthand what the problem was. It was time he had a little talk with his slave girl. “Get me two translators, quickly."

  The woman nodded and broke away from him.

  He opened the door to the girl's room and entered cautiously, his hand resting over his pistol. He flicked the dial down so it would only stun her if he was forced to use it. He didn't want to. Judging by the scars on her body, she'd suffered enough for several lifetimes. There was no need for him to add to her trauma unless she became life threatening.

  The door closed behind him.

  He scanned the room. There was no sign of her. The place was a mess. The blue silk covers had been torn off the double bed, the pillows tossed across the room. One of them had been split open, spilling the fine Friskin feathers inside. He edged further into the room. The table and chairs were tipped over. The vase near the window had been smashed, littering blue glass across the pale grey floor. He leaned to the side and peered towards the bathroom. She had to be in there. There was nowhere else for her to hide.

  His steps were slow and measured, his breathing level and steady as he approached the bathroom. He pressed his back into the wall that separated the room from the corridor outside and slid towards the bathroom door. It opened to reveal an even bigger mess than was in the main room. Everything was scattered across the white glass floor—towels, beauty products, even what little clothing she'd been wearing before. Shards of the mirror created a dangerous assault course. The soap dust container had been left in the wet of the shower and had turned into a gelatinous blob. There was blood on the floor. He presumed it belonged to the poor woman he'd sent in to tend to the girl. The broken mirror explained how she'd got the cut. The girl must have used it as a weapon.

  He eased inside the small room and frowned when he saw her.

  She was curled up in the corner holding her knees to her chest. The chain attached to her collar snaked across the floor towards him, the end near his foot.

  "Are you alright?” he said and she tensed, pulling her knees tighter against her chest. She looked so incredibly tiny.

  Her black hair hid her face. Her skin was milky now that she was clean, tainted only by pinkish scars that hadn't healed yet.

  "Are you alright?” He tried again. She buried her face into her knees and turned away so her side was facing him.

  She couldn't understand him. She probably thought he was coming back to do all the terrible things to her that the Sekarian had spoken of. He crouched down near the door, keeping his distance. He had to get her out of the bathroom and dressed. There was no way he could have a conversation with her until she was in a decent state of dress. He'd never be able to concentrate and he would definitely give her the wrong impression, especially if his body kept reacting as it was now. He stifled his urges and stood.

  Moving across the room, the shattered mirror pieces splintered under his heavy boots, crunching against the glass floor tiles.

  The second he went to touch her arm, she launched herself at him, scratching down his face and pushing him backwards into the shower area of the room. He slipped on the wet tiles and went crashing to the ground. She bolted.

  He was on his feet before she could make it halfway across the main room and grabbed her around the waist, lifting her off the floor. Her legs flailed, catching him hard in the crotch and killing any urges he might have had. He gritted his teeth, swallowed hard and tightened his grip on her.

  She elbowed him in the face.

  He threw her onto the bed and grappled with her until he was sitting astride her hips with his hands pinning hers to the bed.

  She breathed hard and screwed her face up as she struggled again, trying to break free.

  His eyes raked over her against his will. Her breasts heaved as she breathed and he tried to look away from them but couldn't. They were so tempting—luscious mounds peaked with hard dusky nipples. The door opened.

  He looked across the room to see his first lieutenant standing in the doorway with the female co-pilot he'd sent to get the translators.

  "I thought there might be trouble,” the woman said in a quiet voice, a stunned look on her face.

  That stunned look was echoed on his first lieutenant's face.

  He knew how bad it looked. He was kneeling astride a naked woman after all. How good could it look?

  "Just hurry up with those,” he said to his first lieutenant when he saw the man was holding the translators.

  The man hurried over to him and put the small device into his ear for him, and then into the woman's.

  "Now leave,” he said and was thankful when they did.

  The woman looked up at him with wide green eyes. They sparkled at him. Beautiful.

  "If I let go, will you behave yourself?” he said, hoping the translator would pick up her language when she spoke.

  "I can understand you,” she said with an air of disbelief.

  "The thing he put in your ear is a translator. If I let you go?"

  "Yes,” she whispered and he released her. He went to the clothes that lay on the floor and picked them up.

  "Put these on.” He tossed them across the room to her and kept his back turned.

  He tapped his toe impatiently and stared at the dull grey wall while she dressed. She was taking a long time. He wondered if it had been a while since she'd worn clothes.

  "Done,” she said and he turned back around to look at her.

  She was truly beautiful without all the filth. She was sitting on the end of the bed, the tight blue flight suit hugging her lithe figure and undone to halfway down her chest. The material squashed her breasts together and formed a modest cleavage. He swallowed at the memory of how good they'd looked when she'd been below him. It had been too long since he'd had a woman, and she was more beautiful than any he'd had.

  "Why did you attack me?” he said.

  "I thought...” There was fear in her eyes again.

  "I wouldn't do that to a woman,” he said and paced across the room to the windows. He opened the shutters and her attention was immediately with the dark space outside.

  She moved to the window and pressed her hands against the glass. He'd never seen anyone look so fascinated before. When she looked at him, there was a smile in her eyes.

  "It's been a long time since you left the port,” he said and she nodded before looking back out of the window. “How long have you been working down there?"

  "Working?” She snorted in contempt. “I'm a slave."

  "Not anymore."

  She scowled at him. “I still am a slave. He gave me to you because he thought you liked me ... he thought you wanted me. Don't you want me?"

  He frowned. His better sense said to deny her words, even though they were true. He did want her. Something drew him to her, lured him in until he could only think of her.

  "How long have you been a slave?” he said, choosing to ignore what she'd said.

  "As long as I can remember really,” she said and then pulled the translator from her ear. “How does this work?"

  "It's Lyran technology—” He cut himself off when she looked confused and sighed as he put the device back into her ear. “It's Lyran technology. It knows all languages of the universe and can automatically translate them."

  Her brows rose. “Lyran. You're a Lyran ... and you're speaking Lyran? And I can understand you because of this?"

  He nodded.

  "What language are you speaking?” he said, figuring it was a better way of asking her where she was from than asking outright.

  "In the port, you couldn't understand him ... but you understood the other man ... you spoke a different language to him."

  "Minervan. Pray to Iskara that that other man, as you put it, doesn't follow us. We're in no shape for another battle with him.” He caught hold of her hand when she went to take the translator out of her ear again. She could look at it all she wa
nted later. Right now, she was going to answer his questions. “What language are you speaking? It's not Sekarian or Minervan, or anything that I recognise."

  She flashed a smile and hopped onto the bed. He looked at her where she knelt on the pillows, staring out of the window. He was beginning to get the impression she didn't like answering questions.

  "What planet did you call home?” he said, losing patience.

  She looked at him with wide beautiful eyes. “I never had a planet to call home."

  He frowned and walked over to her, sitting down beside her on the bed. His hand remained close to his pistol. She'd already cut him once because he'd tried to get too close. Just because she was speaking to him didn't mean he was about to let his guard down.

  "No planet. Do you know what language you're speaking?” He held her gaze. A hint of sadness entered hers.

  She was quiet for a moment as she turned away and stared off into the distant darkness.

  "Terran,” she whispered.

  Terran? The Earth system. She was a Terran. He'd never met one before. Most never did. They had been scattered to the four winds when their system had been destroyed.

  It had been destroyed by his great great grandfather.

  "You knew I was Lyran.” He watched her closely for any sign of a reaction to the name of the species that had killed so many of hers.

  "I knew,” she said with a small, joyless smile. “At least I suspected as much and then I heard the Minervan call you Captain Lyra II ... which makes you royalty."

  "And makes you more informed than I thought."

  Kayla gave him a real smile this time. She'd figured he'd think her an ignorant and uneducated woman. Just because she'd been forced into slavery didn't mean she hadn't been raised well. She could remember her parents. She knew the story of how the Lyrans had destroyed her home world and that they could never return there. They were orphans of space like so many others whose systems had been caught up in wars. Earth hadn't been in direct conflict with either the Lyrans or the Vegans. It had merely been in the way of their fight.

  She looked at him as he stared out of the window. Never in all her short years had she imagined that the one species she hated above all would be the one species to rescue her. Now she didn't know how to feel. He was royalty. Her parents had told her of the current rulers and their children, the famed sons of Lyra, handsome from the day they were born. When she was younger, she'd made a pact with her friends Tyla and Serena. If they ever met a Lyran, they'd get revenge for their species.

  Back then things had been simple.

  Back then the Lyran in question hadn't been her rescuer.

  And he hadn't been so gorgeous.

  Now she didn't know how to feel.

  He touched his cheek and the scratches she'd inflicted. A smile curved his beautiful bow lips. Amusement shone in his dark eyes but was quickly replaced by a serious look.

  "Is this why you attacked me?"

  "I was defending myself.” She would have done a lot worse if she'd wanted to hurt him and get revenge. His pistol had been within easy reach. She could have taken it and killed him. Why hadn't she? She reasoned that it was because she was on a Lyran ship and had no chance of escaping it alive if she killed him.

  The voice at the back of her head said that it was because he'd rescued her. She felt as though she was caught between a terrible reality and a beautiful fantasy. Why had he had to rescue her and why did he have to be a prince? Now she couldn't stop imagining he was a knight of old in shining armour.

  She looked him over. Not quite armour and she was sure that when her grandmother had whiled away the dark hours with her that the armour she'd spoken of wasn't quite as revealing as his flight suit.

  "Are you going to keep me?” she said, aware that she was his property now. He could do whatever he wanted with her. Why wasn't he? She wasn't naive or blind. She'd seen the hunger in his eyes when he'd been on top of her.

  He shook his head and she frowned when a strange feeling of disappointment swept through her.

  "What will you do with me?” She turned to face him.

  His eyes met hers again, sending a warm rush through her.

  "I will set you down on a planet between here and the space station we're destined for."

  There was no emotion in his voice or in his expression. He would set her down. Just like that. He didn't care what happened to her really. He was a typical Lyran after all.

  "Fine,” she said and looked back out of the window. So what if he didn't want to keep her. She didn't want him to be her master anyway. She'd find a job on the planet he dumped her on, save enough to buy a rusty old space ship, track him down and fly it into his fancy fighter ship in the hopes of killing him. Her gaze flicked to his pistol. The pact she'd made was starting to sound possible after all. If only he'd take his hand away from his gun.

  He stood and paced across the room.

  Her gaze ran down his body and her thoughts betrayed her again. He really had looked after himself. The flight suit left nothing to the imagination. Every muscle was outlined for her pleasure. He turned back to face her, his hands clasped behind him. Her stomach warmed. Every muscle.

  She raised her eyes to his face. She could see why half the galaxy spoke of the sons of Lyra as though they were gods. He was handsome, his dark hair and brows setting off the equal darkness of his eyes, and his straight nose and bowed lips making him appear as regal as she knew he was.

  "It will probably be a day or so before we reach a suitable planet,” he said and she wished he hadn't spoken.

  She'd been happily lost in a fantasy and he'd had to ruin it by reminding her that he intended to ditch her.

  "You should have left me back there,” she said and got to her feet. She went to the row of windows and leaned against the grab rail that ran at waist height along them.

  "He would have killed you."

  "I know.” She leaned forwards, folding her arms and resting her chin on them.

  "You'd rather die than be free?” He stood beside her. She could feel his gaze boring into her face. She didn't look at him.

  She didn't say a word.

  There was nothing to say. The Sekarian probably would have killed her, but it sounded like a better fate than being dumped on some distant dreary planet. She gave it a week before she was someone else's slave or worse. This time she'd probably end up on one of the pleasure planets, doped up to her eyeballs and too out of it to fight the disgusting men pawing at her.

  Taking the translator out of her ear, she straightened and looked at him. She took his hand, turned it palm up and placed the device into it.

  She'd rather not understand a word he was saying when everything he said only hurt her.

  Lying down on the bed, she rolled over so she was facing away from him and curled up holding her chain in her hands.

  He said something that sounded a lot like curse words and then stormed out of the room. She heard the locks on the door slide into place. For someone who said she was free and didn't belong to anyone, he certainly wanted to keep her captive.

  Closing her eyes, she tried to remember her family and where she'd come from. She did this every time she finally had a chance to rest. It was important to remember her heritage. There were hardly any Terrans left now. Her friends had all been killed in a Vegan attack on the space station they'd lived on with her. She'd been taken into slavery with some others. She screwed her face up, not wanting to remember all the dark times she'd been through since then. She'd never thought she'd escape that last planet. Now she was on a Lyran ship heading away from it, but there was no comfort.

  He was going to ditch her at the first opportunity.

  A slave like her wasn't good enough for a prince like him.

  He didn't even want to touch her.

  Was she that repulsive to him?

  It wasn't long before she'd drifted off to sleep. She only realised she had when she heard a noise and opened her eyes to see that the man had return
ed. She watched him right the table and chairs, and place a tray of food down on the round table. He held the translator device up and said something before setting it down beside the tray. Why did he care so much about her speaking to him? He was going to drop her off any time now. It made more sense for him to just keep her shut in the room and ignore her.

  He sat down, an impatient look on his face as he stared at a computer pad similar to the one he'd had at the port. He frowned and muttered something. She cursed him for making her want to put the translator back in so she could understand him. Her stomach growled when she looked at the food.

  She'd not seen fresh food in years.

  Slipping off the bed, she padded quietly across the room and stared at the food. There was fruit. Where had he got fruit? Did all the crew on his ship get such luxurious food, or was it his personal supply he was offering to her?

  She sat down, her eyes still fixed on the fruit and her mouth watering as she remembered how delicious the only fruit she'd ever tasted had been. It had been a bruised apple core that she'd found discarded on a space port floor when her family had been travelling to their second home—the last home she'd had.

  This fruit wasn't bruised. It was perfect and shiny. There were beautiful red quarib berries and rich green polans apples. It was fruit she'd stared at so many times in the shop windows of the ports she'd passed through or been a slave at. She'd never thought she'd get to eat something so luxurious.

  She looked at the man. He paused at his work and gestured for her to eat. She flexed her fingers, grabbed everything she could, and ran across the room to the bed. Curling up in the corner of it furthest from him, she could feel the man's eyes on her. She brushed the chain dangling from her neck away and clutched the fruit to her chest when he walked over, unwilling to share it now that she had it. She could live for weeks on this much food.

  "Mo kullinso terra yoi erasu.” He smiled at her and held his hand out.

  She looked at the device sitting on the middle of his palm. She thought about swatting it away and then sighed. Taking the device, she pushed it back into her ear.

  "That's better,” he said with a wider smile. “Isn't it better when you can understand me?"