Page 74 of Rebel Fates

“No,” they say in unison.

“What else did you get about this Crax?” Serrat asks.

“Maybe a scientist since he has been known to buy scientific equipment? Or he might perform experiments. No known crimes or affiliations.”

“Experiments!” Zeek shudders. “On Gemma?”

“Sheisan anomaly.” I grit my teeth, confirming our fears. “But unless we find them, we’ll never know why he bought her.”

“Set course for Kelion,” Serrat commands.

While I input the coordinates, I monitor my body’s reaction to the news. I’m ready to panic. Crax claiming Gemma would crush me.

But what if Crax tortures her in some way? Dissects her?

Would I survive that fate for her?

35

FRUSTRATION

GEMMA

Iwake up in a dimly lit room. The mattress is comfortable and the blankets are warm. I’m glad I’m not in the cold, sterile medical bay. I’m a light sleeper and should have stirred if Crax moved me. I wonder how I got here.

Sitting up, I scan the room. It’s smaller than Serrat’s bedroom and feels much cozier than anywhere else on any ship I’ve been on, and I wonder if it is Crax’s private bedchamber. The ceiling is low and I’m sure Crax barely clears it with his well over six foot six frame. Plush pillows and soft blankets make up almost the entire space, no wider than fifteen feet across either way.

I wonder if he expects to have sex with me when I go into my heat.

My body reacts to that thought. Even without knowing what he looks like, or much about him at all, my body wants him. The strange masculine yet sweet scent lingers in my nose again. I realize Crax’s scent must have been the one that triggered my arousal at the auction.

If his theory about me wanting the Hathorans was because they are alphas, Crax is also likely an alpha.

My eye finally lands on Crax by the doorway, sitting and quietly watching me. Or rather, his head is pointed in my direction, propped up against the wall. He still hasn’t taken off his concealing hooded cloak.

“You’ve just been sitting there watching me sleep?” I ask.

“No,” he pauses. “I’ve been thinking too.”

My throat goes dry. “About what?”

Ignoring my question, he asks, “How do you feel?”

My thighs clench with the thought of him walking over and taking care of the urges I have.

But I’m also suspicious of his question. Is he trying to coax me into a confessing that I’m hornier than I’ve ever been? Or am I supposed to feel another way? Did he drug me? I want to rip off his cloak and see if what he has underneath will satisfy my cravings.

Crap. I really am going into heat.

I gulp and answer truthfully. “I’m nervous.”

I hear a soft chuckle from behind his mask.

“Great, I amuse you,” I snark. “I’m being vulnerable here, jerk.”

“I meant, how is yourbodyfeeling?”

I ignore him this time and ask. “What did you do to me while I was asleep?”

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