Page 44 of Clan and Command

Kila snorted. “You gave me access, remember? I guess you forgot to remove me from the system.”

Piras blinked at him. His head had gone fuzzy with drink, and it took a moment to realize the Nobek was right. It increased his fury. “You’re still an asshole. Go away.”

“By the ancestors. You’re tanked, aren’t you?” Kila shook his head. “And disobedient. I believe I told you to present yourself on my ship for the pleasure of my cocks.”

“I believe you can take about ten steps in that direction and dive.” Piras pointed to the side of the balcony he’d pitched the seating cushions from.

“I’d rather not. May I offer an observation based on many years of experience?”

“What the fuck would that be?”

“Getting drunk while you’re emotional equals doing stupid things.”

“Who said I was emotional? I’m fine. Never better. Go away.”

“The last thing you need is to be unsupervised. You’ve already made a mess out of your hand. What did you do, punch a Tragoom?”

Piras lifted his arms to see what Kila was talking about. He was right; the hand clutching the empty bottle was covered in dried blood and swollen twice the size of his other hand. It had stopped hurting, thanks to the awesome power of inebriation. “No Tragooms. My official desk. In my official office, next to my official computer. Not the secret one.”

Kila sighed and came over to him. “Let’s get this tended to. Maybe you’ll tell me what made you mad enough to attack a poor, defenseless desk in such a manner.”

Piras backed away. “I don’t want to talk to you. I want you to go.”

“Not going to happen, Piras. Get back here.”

Piras was no longer angry. He was tired and depressed. All he wanted was to keep drinking in the hope he’d pass out before the sadness drowned him. He needed Kila to leave.

He swung the empty bottle at the Nobek, thinking maybe that would make it plain to his unwanted visitor that he should go. Kila moved in a blur, blocking the swing and snatching it from Piras’s hand. A heavy blow landed below the Dramok’s knees, sweeping his feet from under him. He landed on his back with a thud and a grunt. The next instant, Kila was on top of him, pinning him down.

Either he had taken Piras down carefully, or the bohut had made him too numb to feel the pain of the fall. Either way, he laid helpless on his balcony and beyond caring with Kila scowling down at him.

“That’s enough, boy,” Kila said, his tone firm.

Boy. It was what Kila called him when they had sex. And he was on top of Piras. The Dramok felt warmth fill his groin. Damn it, this wasn’t supposed to happen. Piras wasn’t sure what was supposed to happen, but he was pretty sure fucking wasn’t it.

“Asshole. Let me up. I’m not done drinking yet, and you weren’t invited to the party.”

“You most certainly are done drinking for the night. You are quite done with many things, my pretty, temperamental Piras. We’re doing something about that hand, and then we’re doing something about all the rest of this bullshit.”

With that, Kila stood up. In one smooth motion, he pulled Piras up with him and slung him over a beefy shoulder. The quick movements disoriented Piras, making his already rocking vision pitch violently. He closed his eyes and waited for the world to steady as Kila carried him into the house.

Chapter 14

“Sit still,” Kila warned after setting Piras on the tall stool in his bathroom.

“I am sitting still,” Piras said, though he knew he swayed unsteadily on his perch.

“Ancestors help me,” Kila breathed, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Let me see that hand.”

In the glare of the light, made even brighter by the all-white lavatory, both men winced at the injuries Piras had inflicted on himself. Kila prodded the swollen flesh, carefully pressing to determine the extent of the damage. Piras marveled at how gentle the captain’s callous-roughened hands managed to be.

“Nothing’s broken, at least,” the Nobek said. “The grip you had on that bottle attested to that. Do you have a medi-kit of any sort?”

“Drawer in the wall.” Piras pointed with an unsteady finger to show Kila where.

Kila cleaned off the blood, most of which had dried. As he poured antiseptic over it, Piras yelped at the surprising sting. The numbing effects of the bohut were wearing off. “I already spilled bohut on the damned mess. It’s sterilized enough!”

“Idiot,” Kila muttered. “I should leave you here to deal with it on your own.”

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