Page 6 of His Clever Captive

“Oh god, more killing?” Lacey says.

I arch a brow. “Dear, they’re drones.”

“Oh,” she hedges. “Well, they’resomebody’sdrones!”

Berrix mutters a curse from her seat. “Sentimentality. Wonderful.”

“Ready to dock in two micro-cycles!” Nor’Veth calls.

Faylid and I prepare to disembark at the door. “Stay put. And don’t look. Better that way if you don’t want to see any more violence.”

She nods, clinging to the straps holding her in. “Please don’t get blown up, okay?”

I grin. “Aw. You care.”

“I care about not dying before I get to see my friends again.”

“Same difference.” I chuckle, and Faylid and I wave at her as the ramp lowers. “Miss me,” I say to her, smiling as I jump out of the hold, my heart suddenly lighter in my chest.

CHAPTER 3

LACEY

I’m lost as to why I’m having these feelings for Vex as he and Faylid stride back onto the ship, a triumphant grin on his face, arms laden with silken sacks that clink with stolen promise.

My heart leaps—not at the sight of him (okay, maybe a little), but at the thought of finally getting to be with my friends again.

“Finally,” I say, my fingers aching from holding onto my seat belt with such force.

“Disappointed?” he quips. “Or did you actually miss me?”

My face heats. Gah, why does he do that to me so easily?

He just chuckles. "Got you some goodies, my dear." He drops the bags at my feet, the contents clattering.

I peek inside, pulling out a handful of fabric. Clothes—real clothes, jewelry, shoes—not just the blanket I've been clutching. "Thank you," I breathe, looking up at him, even though I’m not a fan of how these items were acquired.

"Can't have you looking like a wild thing for your friends, can we?"

I blink, taken aback. "My friends? You mean?—?"

"Vid call," he confirms, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "We'll be talking with Ryz and Tak and their wives tonegotiate your trade. And you need to look healthy and well-cared for."

I smile with excitement, holding back tears. I get to Face-time with them!

“That smile is something else,” he says, grinning my way. He clears his throat as his violet eyes rake over me, lingering where the blanket gaps. “Now it’s time to scrub Lord Gruzzik’s cage stench off you. Berrix will assist.”

“Assist?” I clutch the fabric tighter as the green-scaled navigator materializes like a specter, tail flicking.

She doesn’t smile. “The hygiene chamber is this way.”

The term conjures images of lasers and acid baths. But instead, I’m led to a closet-sized room with a concave basin and a spout shaped like a tulip. Berrix taps a panel; steam billows, scented like crushed lavender and something faintly metallic.

“Disrobe,” she says, handing me a sponge that squirms in my palm.

I jump, startled and the sponge falls to the floor. She picks it up with a sigh.

“Soap,” she explains, pointing to a series of buttons on the wall. “And water controls.” Then she puts the sponge back in my hand. “This will scrub you clean.”

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