Page 31 of Stealing Mercury
“Talk to me,courra.”
She stood silent. Her body no longer trembling, but still tense. He didn’t know what to do, so he held her fragile body against him and waited for her spirit to return. Instead, all her heat drained away. The bands of color had turned ivory. He rubbed her arms, trying to chase away the chill.
“You’re alive,courra. Alive and beautiful and strong.”
She gave him a shaky smile, but something dark and lost still lurked in her eyes.
Mercury wrapped his hand around hers and led her back to the clearing. Carn and Lo had tied Drake and Resler, back-to-back. Carn still kneeled next to them, wrapping a length of nylon strapping around Drake’s feet.
Drake glared at Sam, his eyes hard as stone. “Lying bitch.”
Mercury let out a low bark. Carn responded without hesitation, reaching up and backhanding the whip-master. The man’s lip burst, and blood spilled down his shirt in fat drops.
Drake spit blood but didn’t cry out. All the times the man had taunted him, urged him to show no mercy, rushed in and layered across his vision so he saw not only the man but every glare, every threat, every sickening smile of satisfaction the man had ever used to chip away at his soul. Mercury wanted to hear the whip-master whimper and every way he could make that happen rushed into his thoughts in a black surge of hate that made his muscles twitch and his pulse pound.
Resler had regained consciousness. He whimpered, one arm wrapped around his knee and rocking where he sat. His other arm hung limp. Blood seeped through what remained of his shirtsleeve and white bone glistened through a rip in the material.
Sam held herself still at Mercury’s side. Would she reject him at the evidence of their brutality? This small hint of what he carried inside him?
She cleared her throat, and he held his breath, awaiting her verdict.
“Is everyone okay?”
Mercury stood, spine stiff. “Their injuries will heal. They’ll recover, even on this unfamiliar world.” He’d wanted to tear them apart, but he hadn’t. “I deem them not harmed. I have kept my promise.” He dared her with his eyes to dispute his claim.
She met his gaze squarely. “I was asking about the three of you.”
He sniffed, searching for the scent of deception, but found only lingering fear and beneath that, sweet honey. His throat tightened with the choking grasp of relief. “We’re fine.”
“I’m glad.” She wrapped her free hand around his forearm and brushed her fingertips across the sensitive skin on the inside of his wrist. “You also promised to stay away.”
Her whispered words turned relief into a knot that twisted and shifted low in his gut. “We didn’t breach their perimeter until they threatened you.”
Her fingers continued to stroke him softly. “But you must have been close.”
The part of his brain that had become accustomed to demands and obedience and the never-ending threat of punishment heard censure and accusation in her words, but the reasoning, thinking part caught the thin far-away tone. His primitive male instincts thought only of the touch of her fingers across his pulse. It was a touch of submission and soothing—a mate’s touch.
“It was necessary,” he said, jumpy and confused by all the warring parts of himself. “I knew they couldn’t be trusted to keep you safe.” He couldn’t think clearly. Not when she was touching him that way. Not when he needed badly for instinct to be right. Not when she could turn on him at any moment.
Samantha reached up and cupped his cheek. “I’m glad you choose wisely in how to keep your promises.”
The tight muscles along his jaw relaxed. The knot in his belly eased. He closed his eyes and reigned in the need to revel in the small victory. His instincts had been right, or nearly so. They urged him to give into the need that had been building from the first scent of her. Instead, he turned into her touch and pressed his lips to her palm. He wanted to lick, to nip, to taste, but there would be time for that later.
He turned back to the others. “Grab what you think we’ll need but leave them enough to survive. Destroy all their weapons.”
“You’re never getting off this fucking planet,” Resler shouted. “You’re all fucking dead.”
Drake’s voice was cool fire. “If the emergency rations run out, we’ll need weapons to hunt for food.”
Mercury slipped free of Samantha’s hand and strode over to Drake. He squatted down and got in the other man’s face. “This world has plenty of grubs. Be grateful for what you have. Isn’t that what you always told us?”
The stubborn bastard denied Mercury’s need to see fear in his eyes. No, the whip-master wasn’t done causing them trouble, but there was little he could do about that looming threat. Not without turning Sam against them.
It took only a few minutes to gather the things they wanted to carry and to dismantle and destroy the weapons. Mercury watched Sam closely. She moved with heartbreaking deliberateness as she used the med-kit to treat the scrapes and bruises that marred her soft skin.
After she’d finished and packed it away, he led her over to the water supply and urged her to drink.
“You must drink while you can. With all we carry, we can’t carry the water, too.”
