Page 36 of Savage Union

“What thefuckdo you think you’re doing?” Turk growled at him.

“Just takin’ my turn with the Catamite, Captain—that’s all.”

Jerx nodded his chin at me defiantly.

“What fucking Catamite?” Turk demanded. “Cass isn’t a Catamite!”

“Yes, he is!” Jerx protested. “Just lookit him! He’s got all the markings—big gold eyes and a pretty face. There’s no way he doesn’t have Cata Prime blood in him!”

“It doesn’t fucking matter what Cass looks like, he isnota Catamite—he’s a navigator!” Turk growled.

Jerx shot me a sullen look.

“Gurflug said he was—said you bought him just for the Crew to use.”

Turk didn’t seem to buy this excuse at all.

“You’ve crewed aboard The Illyrian for the past six missions,” he growled. “What the fuck makes you think I’d pay a Catamite to service the crew? You know The Illyrian isn’t that kind of ship!”

“I dunno—it was just what Gurflug said!” Jerx snarled. “So I was just helping myself, that’s all.”

“Even if Ididbring a Catamite on board—which I never fucking would—it still wouldn’t be all right for you to fuckingrapehim!” Turk growled.

“But Gurflug said—” Jerx began.

“Enough!” Turk held up a hand. “Get dressed and go get Gurflug. I want both of you in my Ready Room in the next ten fucking minutes.Moveit!” he snapped.

The big Brute hurried out of the shower room and Turk turned to me. His face changed from one of anger and disgust to something softer when he took me in.

I was crouched against the wall with my arms clutched to my chest and my knees drawn up to my chin, trying to hide my nakedness. My palm stung where I had scraped it raw and I swore I could still feel Jerx’s hand on my neck and his shaft probing at my bottom.

“Hey,” Turk said softly. “You okay, boy?”

I most definitely wasnotokay. I felt small and battered and vulnerable. I was the weakest link aboard The Illyrian—I knew that now. I was fair prey for anyone who wanted to use me and there was nothing I could do to stop them.

I had never felt so scared and unsafe in my life—not even after the attempted assault that Slade had stopped or the time in the bar where Turk had rescued me from the guy who had drugged me.

But of course, I couldn’t say any of that.

“I…I’m fine,” I said and my voice broke on a sob. Quickly, I swiped at my eyes, which—to my horror—were streaming. I couldn’t afford to break down like this, I told myself frantically. As a woman I might expect to be comforted if the tears started flowing, but no one felt pity when a man cried. They felt disgust and contempt for his weakness.

But Turk didn’t look disgusted. The expression on his face was more like pity.

“Come on,” he said, going to get my towel, which was still hanging on the peg beside the shower I’d been using. He draped the limp fabric around my shoulders and offered me a hand up.

I took it uncertainly and he pulled me to my feet.

“All right—good.” He nodded. “Now dry your eyes and come with me.”

“Wait…” I held back, tugging at his grip. “I…I need to get my clothes on,” I said, when he gave me an uncertain look. “I can’t go around the shipnaked.”

“We’ll get your clothes in a minute. Here—put this on.”

He took off his shirt, which was still hanging loose around his muscular frame, and handed it to me.

I turned my back to him to preserve what little modesty I had left and slipped into the shirt. As I buttoned it, I was glad that it was too loose on me to show the curves of my breasts. It smelled like him too—warm and spicy and comforting. Just inhaling hisscent made me feel better and I found I was able to stop crying completely.

When I turned back around, Turk looked me up and down with an appraising expression.

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