Page 22 of Becoming Brandy

“That’s the beauty of it,” Wrek said, growing excited. “Now, you’d get to pick. You could pick one of us or none of us. You have all the power.”

Tork rolled his eyes. “Drake will love that. It’s his favorite thing to have to deflect to a human female.” The sarcasm was thick. “Gods, you and you’re scheming. When are you going to learn?”

“What do you think, Brandy?” Wrek asked.

“I don’t know.” It sounded good, but was it some sort of trick? She was not smart enough to figure out what the scam might be.

“It doesn’t matter what she thinks,” Tork said, interrupting. “Wrek, you are not hearing me. There is no way Drake will go for this.”

“There’s no way I’ll go for what?”

All three of them whirled.

Drake stood in the doorway, appearing shrunken, bruised, and battered, but he was standing unassisted. All the aliens turned and did some gesture that seemed like a solute. Brandy glanced at Wrek. His eyes were gigantic. Fear rolled off him in waves.

Tork stepped forward, adopting his devil-may-care-attitude. “They pieced you back together, eh? I thought you were done in for sure.”

Drake narrowed his eyes, surveying the scene. “What’s going on here? I thought we were under attack.”

“We were,” Tork said, clapping his hands together and rubbing them. “But Junior over there talked Han down. He got him to stop firing.”

Drake’s gaze snapped to Wrek. “How did you do that?”

Wrek opened his mouth to answer, but Tork cut him off. “He reminded him we still have a hostage Han cares about. What good would blowing us up be if he destroyed Brandy over there?”

“He cares about her?” Drake said, surprised.

She huffed, taking offense at his tone. When she opened her mouth to speak, Tork beat her to it.

“Of course. Brandy is a precious commodity, a superior human female guaranteed to carry Cartharian young. One of the best of her planet. Why would anyone not care about that?”

Drake’s gaze landed on her and stuck. “She’s superior?”

“Of course she is,” Wrek piped up. “Why else would Han have had her?”

Brandy smiled, trying not to let her face betray her. She was not superior, just ordinary, and she was pretty sure she wasn’t even able to carry Cartharian young.

She bit her lip and endured Drake’s stare.

“Send her to my quarters. Let me know if Han tries to do anything. If he scratches his ass, I want to know about it.”

Drake turned, walking as if he were trying to hide a limp.

Brandy whirled toward the two men watching their older brother leave. “He said to have me sent to his quarters!” she mouthed, raw nerves making her feel sick. Alone with Drake? He was so mean.

Wrek and Tork exchanged a look. Tork, of course, was the one to speak. “Well, sweetheart, it’s time to see which of Wrek’s hairbrained schemes is going to pan out. Either that, or we’ll all be pushed out of the airlock.”

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