Page 1 of Keeping His Mate

CHAPTER 1

BRUVIX

Ahlvo rattles off the details of how he will trade the sack of halu leaves, the jug of sap from the da’koi trees, and the crate of shilmashi petals we brought from Oluura, and I nod, pretending to listen. It is not that I do not care; I am just distracted. My mind is not on Nu’Piix, or the tasks we must complete here. It is not even on Oluura, though I am eager to return home.

My focus is on the white med tube I spotted outside of Bzzsil Chi’s brothel not long after we landed and had a drink at the tavern. It looked like the med tubes human females are put into when they are bought and sold at places such as this.

After all, this is where Varrek and Ahlvo found their mates, and Bzzsil Chi is the smarmy slaver who held that very auction. I have no plans to place a bid, however. Because I refuse to line that wretched pvorki’s pockets any more than they already are.

I have…another idea.

“Are you listening to me?” Ahlvo hollers, waving the cane Nalba made for him in my face.

“Of course, brother,” I reply automatically. “That sounds like a splendid plan. I shall meet you here as the timekeep strikes three then?”

“Very well,” Ahlvo says, his tone wary. “What will you do? Spend a few credits at the brothel?” He wags his brows and gives me a sly grin.

“No, no,” I tell him. “I have no interest in that. I shall…uh, check in with my contacts. Nee-roh suggested we get a heat scan detector for the village but has had trouble locating one. I will try to track one down.”

It is a lie, but only because I am certain Ahlvo would not approve of my true plans.

He nods, seemingly convinced. “Ah, good, good. Meet you here at three.” He limps away on his cane, pulling his wagon of goods behind him. Though his leg has improved and gets stronger every day, he likes the cane and the support it provides. And I am pleased to see him accepting his body as it is, a challenge I was certain a stubborn male like him could never overcome.

I glance at the timekeep on my screen pad before tucking it into the pocket of my vest. I have a short time to complete my task. There is none to waste.

Strolling casually around the exterior loop of the Nu’Piix Enbalo Post, I take a visual tally of the guards. I count twenty-seven concentrated around the exterior of the brothel and a few huddled together behind the large building next to the brothel. This must be the auction facility where Varrek bought Cloh-ee, Aye-vah, and Kay-teh. It matches their description perfectly: a decrepit structure too large for the land it occupies and out of place next to the brothel.

But if everyone knew that Bzzsil Chi dabbled in human trafficking, it would look right at home there.

I cut through the center of the post, just watching people as they make their way from the tavern to the trading stalls, or to the brothel, or back to their ships. That is the extent of activities to engage in here, so it makes observing people an easy endeavor.

I pull out my screen pad to appear busy as two flixiel guards wearing bronze armor over drab yellow jumpsuits pass by.

Twenty-eight minutes left.

Turning my back toward the dock, I take the time to study the words on the crates and packages being hauled from the ships near the brothel and the auction facility. The language is alien to me, but what I’m really looking for are med tubes. White ones. And I see several being rolled out of a large shipping vessel and into the back room of the brothel by five flixiel guards in the same hideous attire.

Are these all human females?

Or are there males too?

What if there are females of other species among them?

I ask myself these questions, despite not having the answers, as I formulate my plan. I must get to them, these unconscious beings that were taken from their homes, and free them before Bzzsil Chi sells them to slavers and predators. But there are at least a dozen med tubes that just arrived, and I am but one male.

How am I to achieve this?

Three guards enter the building, the heavy door slamming shut behind them, leaving two outside.

I drop into a crouch and slink closer, so I can hear the guards unloading the tubes. I hide behind a black crate the size of my ship as they chatter away in their native tongue––a language I have stored in my language chip, luckily. They make a few repulsive jokes about human females, and my knuckles crack as my fingers curl into fists. I will enjoy breaking their necks.

“What does he want with this one?” a flixiel with an eye patch asks.

The other one with a long greasy mane pulls a sheet of paper off the top of the med tube that sits between them and reads it silently. Then he laughs. “It is a return, apparently. It says this female was awoken and immediately attacked her owner and bit his nose. She was then drugged and promptly returned to stasis.”

“Ah, a fighter. Those are the most fun to take,” Eye Patch says with a croaking laugh.

“You are right,” Greasy Mane says. Then lowers his voice. “I doubt Bzzsil even wants this one. He won’t be able to sell her.”

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