Page 18 of Stealing Mercury
Her eyes were wide, but she didn’t scent of fear.
He breathed slowly to calm his anger. Control the animal instinct that made him want to claim her. He rose to his haunches, then moved to the edge of his cage, wanting to be closer.
“Take off the jacket.” Better, he thought. It had come out low, but without the growl. He didn’t want to frighten her, only to coax her to comply.
He understood that this Cirrillian business was a secret. He wouldn’t like it if she kept a secret from him, but he liked knowing something about her that the whip-master didn’t. Even if he didn’t understand what it meant.
“I won’t tell your secret,” he promised.
Her face remained tight, but she tugged off the garment and went back to work. Barely noticeable bands of warm gold wrapped her slender arms as the muscles flexed, but she went silent. He didn’t want that. He’d come to need her flow of words rolling over him.
“Where is your cloth?”
“In my cabin. No time for that tonight.” Her arm disappeared in the wall panel, and she held her breath before letting it out in a huff that relaxed her body and drew his eyes to her curves.
Mercury let out his own breath in a snort of frustration. “Tell me about the cloth.”
She stopped, studying him, eyebrows raised in delicate arches. “Now, you want to talk?”
He nodded, not trusting his voice.
“Okay,” she said. “I was just finishing this up, anyway.” She tapped something inside the panel, then closed it and put away her tools.
“In Haverlee—that’s where I lived growing up—sandsilk is one of the few resources we have in abundance.” She moved across the floor with athletic grace, to stand just out of reach. “It’s not as valuable as real silk from old Earth, but there’s a good market for it.”
He knew nothing of sandsilk or old Earth. It didn’t matter. He would gladly listen to her talk about them for the whole of their journey. “More,” he said, afraid even one added word would give away how badly he needed her to continue.
She edged closer and sat in front of his cage. “The thread is made by sandsilk worms.” She grinned. “I know it must sound weird, but the cloth is strong and soft.”
Moving slowly to avoid startling her away, he rolled up on to his toes and crouched near the bars. He wrapped his hands around the cool metal. “Why do you put on the colors?”
“The paint? Well, when I was a girl, I worked in the wormeries—that’s where they cultivate the worms that produce the silk— and I got paid in silk thread. I was never good at dyeing and making the cloth, so I learned to paint the decorations.” Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, leaving the soft pink flesh glistening. “It’s the night sky over Haverlee,” she said. “The pattern I’m painting.”
She sounded suddenly hesitant. He hated the uncertainty in her voice.
“It’s beautiful,” he said. Her smile told him it was the right thing to say.
Once again moving slowly, he reached up and pulled at the knot of hair at the base of her skull. The lush mass of brown spilled to her shoulders, revealing strands of red and gold. He’d never seen anything like it. He pulled a handful to his nose and sucked in a breath, taking her essence deep into his lungs. “But not as beautiful as this.” Her bright green eyes widened and her scent warmed, turning sensuous and receptive.
Lo moved to the corner of his cage and sniffed at her. Mercury growled a gentle warning. Sam flinched and Lo edged back. It shifted Sam’s attention to Lo, and the loss poked at Mercury’s pride.
“The place we’re going,” he said. “We go to be hunted. To die.”
She swallowed and her lips pressed together before she spoke. “I thought it was something like that, but don’t lose hope.”
He wanted to deny the possibility of giving up, but even as they spoke, Carn’s protein bar lay uneaten on the floor of his cage. The odds against them weighed more heavily on him every day. “The owners want us dead. Their greed is the only reason we aren’t dead already. Humans will pay to be allowed to hunt us. They’ll use human technology to track us and long-range weapons to shoot us. We won’t make it easy for them, but...” Mercury refused to accept the obvious conclusion.
“How can you know that?”
“Drake. He enjoyed telling us how it would be.”
“Never give up.” She looked suddenly serious. “Things will work out.” She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around her legs, hugging them to her chest. Her scent changed with her mood, and he regretted his words. He hadn’t thought it through before speaking. He didn’t want to cause her unhappiness. He wanted to soothe her.
“Tell me more about your cloth. You’ll feel more relaxed, and your scent will be better.”
She scoffed. “Are you saying I smell bad?”
“No. Not bad. Your scent is always good. Sweet. Honey. Female. It’s best when you’re relaxed and talking softly.”
