If he wants to rape me, fine then. I'll make it as awful as possible. I'll lie here like a dead thing, because he seems to like my fighting. I wonder if I can make myself puke on demand. If not, maybe I can sneeze directly in his face. I'd pee on the bed, but since I'm chained to it, that seems like a bad call, but I keep it in my mental “sleeve” for just in case.
I'm not going to let him win, though. This is war between us, and I might not have the advantages he does, but it doesn't mean that I'm not going to give this everything I have. If he rapes me…I hope I infect him with something. Human cooties. Human plague. Doesn't matter as long as it's virulent and painful.
I shiver as he moves toward the door, talking with someone there. My breath is frosting in front of my face with every puff, and it's so cold in here that my toes feel like ice. My nipples, too. I want to curl up and conserve body heat, but that'll just show him that he's got the upper hand, and I'll fucking die first. I'm just going to have to ignore the cold, like I'm trying to ignore my nudity.
He turns around, and our eyes meet. I glare at him again as he approaches the bed. "If you touch me, I'll vomit."
To my surprise, he scrubs a hand down his face. "Female, if I touch you, I will vomit."
The fuck? I keep my scowl on my face, but I'm confused. If he finds humans so damn gross, why am I naked and chained to his bed? I decide to press my luck. "You should let me go."
He moves to the far side of the room, activating the closet, and pulls on one of his dark robes. I'm disappointed when it doesn't fall to pieces in his arms. Can't the universe cut me a break, just once? He shrugs it over his form, and it looks warm and thick and reminds me just how cold I am. "I'm not letting you go anywhere. The state of my crew is fragile enough as it is. I might be lenient if you tell me about the mutiny, though."
"Oh, well then," I say sarcastically. "What do you want to know?"
He turns and crosses his arms over his chest. "Everything."
"Okay, well, you got me." When he leans forward with a fervent look on his face, I continue. "Bob's gonna be in charge of coordinating outfits," I chirp. "Because what's a good mutiny without the appropriate fashion, right? And then Jimmy's gonna be in charge of snacks. And let's not forget party favors—"
"Female," he snaps. "Are you making this garbage up?"
"—and I'm going to be in charge of telling you to fuck yourself," I finish happily. "And now you know everything about the mutiny." I shoot him the bird, just because it feels good to do so.
Straik looks so angry that I expect to see a vein burst in his forehead. His expression darkens and then he closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath. "I am trying to be your friend, female."
"You are absolutely not." I snort. "Nice try, though, male." If he's going to call me “female” all day long, he'd better be ready to get his fair share.
His eyes narrow. He reaches into the closet and pulls out another robe, shoving it over the first one. "Computer," he snaps. "Still hot in here. Keep cooling."
Bastard. "So is this how you get me to spill all the non-existent secrets? You freeze me out?"
"Of course not." His voice lowers and becomes purring, and it sends alarm bells through my mind. "I just like the cold. It has nothing to do with you."
Bullshit it has nothing to do with me. It's obvious what he's up to. "Maybe if you were a nicer captain and didn't abandon people, you wouldn't have to worry about a mutiny," I say, echoing his polite tone. "Be a real shame if someone booted your ass off this ship, male."
He looks as if he's about to lose his temper again, but someone knocks at the door. Instead of him snarling at me, he smiles, flashing a pair of fangs. The look on his face turns distinctly pleased, and he saunters to the door, all cocky arrogance and swishing tail. As I watch, he opens the door and gestures at the alien waiting there. "Bring it all inside."
A wave of delicious scents bombards me. I stare, mouth watering, as one of the a'ani rolls a heavily laden cart into the room. It's covered with containers of food, steaming bowls full of noodles, freshly cooked vegetables, a bowl of cut fruit, and something that looks like strips of pale meat. It all looks amazing, and when a second cart rolls in of desserts and what look like hot drinks, I have to bite back a whimper. I'm so cold, and I didn't realize just how hungry I was until now.
"I'm told that your people are fond of cakes," Straik says, waving a hand at the a'ani so they'll leave the carts. They do so, glancing at me, naked and sprawled in the bed of the ice-cold room. He pulls out a plate of something that looks utterly decadent and sweet, and pokes at it with one of their eating sticks. "Are you hungry, little one?"
I'm going to murder him. Just straight-out murder. His plan is becoming very, very clear. He's going to freeze me until I demand clothes. He's going to eat in front of me until I demand food. I'm surprised it's not rape, but I'm definitely relieved.
As I watch, drooling, he takes a bite of cake and then picks up a carafe of something, pouring a hot, steaming cup. It…smells like coffee. Oh god, it smells like coffee. A memory drifts through my head, of tall tables in a bistro and someone handing me a paper cup that smells like heaven. Of how happy it made me.
I stare at that cup as he lifts it to his lips, and I've never wanted anything more than I want that coffee.
But I'm not going to break. I'm not.
13
STRAIK
I've never liked the taste of night tea. To me it's bitter, unpleasant, and reminds me of my mother, who drinks it as if she needs it to survive. Her love for it has always made me avoid it, as any rebellious son would. When the human female—Ruth—watches me lift the cup to my lips, though, I rethink my hatred of it.
It's clear she wants this drink. Badly.
So I sip it as if it brings me intense pleasure. I take a bite of food, remembering how the females asked about cake in that first meeting between us. And I kick my feet up and watch her squirm. Her stubborn expression remains, but I know I can break her. I just have to be patient. I smile pleasantly. "I've been hearing things on this ship for days now. I thought perhaps we were having engine troubles. Imagine my surprise to find that you've been hiding here all along."
"Surprise, surprise," she says sarcastically, but her gaze never leaves my cup or my cake. It darts back and forth between them, as if nothing else exists.
"I'm glad it's you. I'd hate to be stranded out here in V'tarrian space. They're not exactly friendly."
Her gaze finally snaps back to me. "But you thought it was fine to leave my friends there? Abandon them on a ship that's heading for an ice field? That's what you said, right? That we couldn't stay there because it would pull us in? And then you turned around and left. So you'll forgive me if I don't really care about anything you say."
I stab at the cake. It's enough to be accused by my own men, but her tone gets under my skin. Grates on my nerves. "You don't understand."