Michelle sighs and jerks her head, indicating we should move away from Bex.
“What happened?” I ask her, glancing back at Bex, who’s muttering to herself and wandering off to the table full of food.
“She was into her alien.” Michelle’s nostrils flare. “I think she thought it was going to be like one of her books… you know the ones.”
I nod, trying to act like it wasn’t like that for me, not at all. “Uh-huh.”
“I think she’s just disappointed that it didn’t turn out like that for her. Add Gen marrying an alien prince, and it’s probably too much.”
“Honestly, there doesn’t seem to be that big of a difference between the prince and the warlords.”
“What do you mean?” Michelle says, and Bex creeps back over, her eyes wide.
“The warlords… we all married warlords, except for Bex.”
“Warlords,” Michelle echoes. “And they all live…here. In this city?”
Trust my intel specialist to point out a problem I hadn’t even thought of. My throat bobs as I swallow, and her eyes narrow.
“No… This is Draz’s territory.” And mine, I almost say, but I don’t want to, er, alienate them.
“What’s going to happen when they need to leave to go back to their territories?” Michelle asks, her eyes calculating.
I blow out a breath. “We can cross that bridge when we come to it,” I say. “For now, let’s focus on communication and getting that tech to the Federation. No one is leaving here until we’re sure we can keep Earth out of Roth control. Yes?”
“Yes ma’am,” Michelle says, all those years of Federation training pulling the response from her instantly.
“What if we want to leave?” Bex asks, and I swing my gaze to her. “I mean, are you even our CO now? What’s the chain of command?”
“She’s our Captain,” Michelle snaps. “That’s the chain of command. We came here for a mission, and that mission isn’t complete.”
“Aye-aye,” Bex says limply.
I raise one eyebrow, and she snaps off a salute.
“I’ll talk to Draz about what happens if you want to leave with your warlords,” I relent. Uneasy, I turn the idea over in my head. Draz reassured me that he, at least, wouldn’t force the issue of our arranged marriage. But what if he’s the only one who feels that way—what if a Suevan forces the issue and takes one of my crew?
Bex is waiting for an answer, her eyes narrowing.
“Do you have reason to believe one of the Suevans is planning to take one of us?”
Michelle shrugs one shoulder. “Nothing concrete.”
Fuck. I don’t like the sound of that. “Which one?”
“It’s more than one.”
I run a hand through my hair. It’s drying in loose waves around my shoulders, and I’m so unused to it being down that it throws me for a momentary loop.
“Will it set off an internal conflict if you and your warlord don’t allow the other Suevans to take us?” Michelle asks, her fingers pulling at the gauzy fabric of her loose pants.
“We didn’t have a lot of time to discuss alien politics or what happens next. I was too concerned with making sure you were all physically safe and dealing with the Roth kidnapping.”
“Don’t forget your poison snails.” Michelle’s tone is light, but her lips are pressed thin, belying her worry.
“Yeah,” I cringe, my hands fingering the rough patch of still-healing skin. “That, too. Let’s take it one day at a time.”
Michelle blinks, and I know her ridiculously overpowered brain is sorting through a million possible scenarios. “I’ll try to dig up anything I can on politics and precedent.”
How she’s planning to do that without a working translator, I don’t have a clue, but if anyone can do it, it’s Michelle.
Bex nods, unhappy but not mutinous.
Thank God.
I do not want to deal with mutiny. I need them focused and working towards protecting Earth.
Even if Earth and the Federation did fuck us over. And in Gen’s case, fucked us over royally.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
DRAZ
The underground prison’s cooler than the rest of Edrobaz, designed to be uncomfortable for any Suevans who find themselves on the wrong side of our laws. Not torturous, but a constant, nagging coldness that nips at my scaled hide.
Blue lights bounce through the clear flexiglass cell, an impenetrable membrane that allows sound and light to pass, but not, say, an angry Roth. The cool temperature likely will not bother him the same way it would a Suevan, but he is anything but comfortable.
The Roth is furious. He doesn’t speak, but his grey nostrils flare slightly as I stand in front of his cell. His chest is bandaged, and black blood seeps through the wound my mate so efficiently placed.
Dergoz stirs next to me. Always ready to fight, Dergoz exudes a feral energy that’s fully honed on the prisoner in front of us. We called him the Brute in our wars against Roth on the settled planets, a title he fully earned, willing to do anything against the Roth to seize the advantage.
I thought he was over the top then, but he’s even more on edge now.
Likely from the frustration of not being able to mate his female. Guilt slides through me, oily and slick. Finding out that my Ni-Kee is the only one able to understand our language still, through some fluke of the implant programming, has left me both counting my lucky stars and saddened for my fellow Suevans.
A door closes softly, and footsteps sound against the stone floors.
“Has he spoken yet?” Alvez asks. He turns towards the cell, the blue lights illuminating a criss-cross of scars along his scaled back. The Suevan spent time in the Roth fighting pits, taken as a child on a settlement and raised as a gladiator slave. The male has every reason to wish the Roth a brutal death, and yet, he appears the most in control of us all.
“No.”
“And he was working with the southern Suevans?”
Dergoz makes a rasping noise of disbelief, clicking his talons along his crossed arms. “I cannot believe they would be so foolish as to believe anything that came from that poisoned tongue.”
“The Roth have long been persuasive,” Alvez answers, his eyes full of cold, calculating rage. “I am sure he made his promises seem as sweet as they were false.”
“He threatened to take my mate,” I say, and both males turn to look at me. “He did not know the human females were compatible, or if he did, he made a show of not knowing it, and offering her a place as a bed slave and breeder with him.” My knuckles crack as I tighten my fists at the memory.
Alvez’s hand clasps my shoulder, offering strength and solidarity. “He did not succeed.”
“I worry, my friend,” I tell him, my heart speeding up and my tail smacking against the floor. “I worry that the Roth know, and that they head for our women, even now. Or Earth, to harvest as many females as they can and once again become a mighty foe.”
“Our transport to Earth—you think they tail it, even now?”
“It is a possibility,” I admit.
“We need those females,” Dergoz growls. “Our males need mates.”
“What are you suggesting?” Alvez says, his eyebrows drawing up.
“If the human males cannot protect their women, then they do not deserve them.” Dergoz the Brute’s tail slams into the rock floor, sending vibrations through the facility and setting the lights to flickering.