Page 17 of Stealing Mercury
Normally she brought her sandsilk and paints to work on, but tonight was different. Tonight she would set her plan into motion. Samantha pulled the tools she would need from the hold’s tool locker, then popped the cover off the secondary access panel for the environmental controls. It was only meant to serve as a backup if the primary access became inaccessible, so nothing was in easy reach.
Holding a small circuit tuner, she slipped her hand between two fiber assemblies, brushing against them gently and with care. She didn’t want to wreck the whole system.
There. The circuit buzzed against her fingertips as she worked the tuner into position then adjusted the phase, just off spec. Bracing her free hand on the wall next to the access, she turned her head and reached for where the next circuit board should be, stretching and twisting and working by touch. Good thing she had small hands.
***
Mercury fought the urge to ask Sam what she was working on.Sam. That’s what they called her. It didn’t fit. Nothing about her made sense to him. He lay on his back, chewing his protein bar and listening to the tiny noises she made, the in and out of her breathing.
In the cage beside him, Lo went back to his pull-ups. He hadn’t heard Carn move, so he probably still lay in the corner of his cage where he’d been, unmoving, all day. Mercury’s concern for his brothers multiplied with each day they spent headed for death and away from Carn’s mate. He’d tried to convince Carn that Drake had lied about Hera’s fate, that she was too valuable as a breeder, but how could he convince him of anything when he wasn’t convinced himself. Hera had been with them for half a year without conceiving.
With nothing he could do to help them, his mind turned back to Sam. Every day she came. Normally, she would spread a piece of shimmering blue cloth across the floor, lay on her belly, and apply some type of coloring to the material. She’d said it was the only area big enough for the task, but her explanation was as thin as new ice. He’d warned her away, but still she sought them out and put herself between him and his enemies.
He’d tried and failed to believe she could be a temptress like the one who’d betrayed Lo. But the more he thought back over her actions, the more he had to accept that her actions had shown her to be something he’d never expected to encounter—a woman who put his welfare and that of his brothers before her own.
He knew she wanted him to speak to her, but he’d long ago developed a habit of talking to humans only when absolutely necessary. They always found a way to use his words against him. He’d accepted that she wasn’t like the others, but some small measure of sanity warned she might be just as dangerous.
Dangerous, because he’d begun to look forward to her visits. Dangerous, because he’d begun to trust her presence. Dangerous, because thoughts of fucking her had become as automatic as breathing.
Her voice softened when she directed her words to him. Females did such things to signal a willingness to mate. The thought tightened his muscles with eagerness. A frustrated growl rumbled in his chest at the unwanted response. Each night she came added to the agony of wanting that made his body ache more surely than any beating. If this was what Carn felt when Hera was near—
“Drake complained about his dinner again tonight.”
Her voice broke into his thoughts. The sound of the whip-master’s name on her lips angered him. He growled and she laughed. A sound that curled inside him and made him shiver with need. He wanted to feel her laughter against his skin.
“This time he actually had something to complain about. I made sure to overheat his meal. It was probably rubber.”
She always made a point of mentioning the whip-master. It always made him growl. He suspected she did it just to hear him respond.
“I’ve been doing a bit of research.” The clank of her tools against something inside the panel accompanied her words.
He closed his eyes, listening as much to her tone as her meaning.
“This planet we’re headed for, it’s some kind of private game preserve. They’ve taken your kind there before. I couldn’t find anything out about what will happen though.” Unmistakable notes of worry hid behind the quiet melody of her voice. “They’ve never brought any of them back.”
He heard her shift and then a quick gasp of pain. He twisted, eyes snapping open, resolve gone—swamped by the need to assure himself that she was unharmed.
She’d already dismissed whatever small hurt she’d suffered and gone back to her task. Her hair was tied back in a knot, but the shorter strands around her face clung wetly to her temples. A fine sheen of perspiration made her skin glisten. She stretched and shifted to push up the sleeve of her jacket. The soft swell of her breasts drew his eye as she moved.
His body hardened at the sight.
He knew she wore the concealing jacket, always wore high necks and long sleeves, to hide the color that appeared when she grew angry. She’d claimed it had something to do with Cirrillian biology. He didn’t know what that meant, but he knew it worried her.
She pushed at the sleeve again.
He snarled as his wisdom and caution failed him. “Take it off.” He knew the words were barely recognizable, garbled by his growl, but his body burned with the need to do more than remove her jacket.
She’d gone still, not even breathing. Her hand clenched around her sleeve.
“Take. It. Off.”
“What?” Her voice squeaked.
“The jacket. It bothers you. Take it off.” He growled louder, making her flinch. “It bothers me as well.”
“My jacket? Oh. It’s hot, that’s all.” Her voice lowered as she mumbled, “All part of the plan.”
Her words were confusing, but he took them as a refusal and growled in the front of his mouth. It was an instinctive demand for her to submit. A sound any female of his kind would understand, but she wasn’t one of their females.
