Page 22 of Taming Chaos

At last, she stood, leaning back a little to stretch out her stiff, aching back.

Torin moved just a little bit closer. She became acutely aware of how broad and solid his chest was. Seph the woman idly wondered what he looked like underneath all that form-fitting armor.

“Persephone, I’m not a threat to you. I understand that all of this must be so horrible and confronting for you right now, but I want you to know that I’m going to get you out of here.”

At six feet tall, Seph wasn’t a small woman, but she still had to look up to meet Torin’s gaze. She took a deep breath, trying to piece together her fragile self-control. It would be so easy to give in and embrace those old self-destructive feelings—anger, hopelessness, self-loathing—but she couldn’t do that when this man was trying to save her.

Stop it, Persephone Winters. Pull yourself together.

“We’re practically stuck in here,” she said quietly, trying to make sense of the situation. “There’s no breathing support. I can’t imagine going out there… into that toxic environment.” A terrible thought struck her. “If they wanted to, they could just shut off the oxygen.”

“They won’t do that.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“You’re their payday.”

“A rare and valuable specimen,” she quipped. “I don’t understand why. I’m just an ordinary human. Not exactly Miss Universe.”

“Who’s that? Another of your Virtu-Real stars?”

His quizzical expression almost made Seph laugh. Almost, but not quite. Someone had just been killed right before her very eyes, so she probably wouldn’t be able to laugh again for a few days… or weeks. “It’s just an Earth saying. Miss Universe is a term we use to describe an extremely beautiful woman. A few hundred years ago, it was an actual event.”

“I disagree.”

“Believe me, Miss Universe happened. You can pull up old footage on Earth’s Networks.”

“I’m not talking about that.” Red eyes roamed over her face, lingering for a moment on her neck and lips before meeting her gaze. “You are a Miss Universe, and your uniqueness makes you valuable. I know my people, Persephone. They love rare things. The rarer the acquisition, the higher the perceived status of the owner.”

“Your people… wait, you’re saying the one who wants me is Kordolian?”

Torin nodded, his expression becoming grim. “I can guarantee it.”

If Seph hadn’t known anything about him, the look on his face just then would have turned the blood in her veins to ice, but the silent promise of death in his eyes wasn’t meant for her.

Amazing, how things could get so complicated so fast.

Can I really trust you, Torin?

What was that saying?

Better the devil you know.

A devil who had just likened her to Miss Universe.

If that had been intentional, then he was one sly devil.

The tips of her ears became warm, and Seph realized the same flush was probably spreading across her cheeks. Damn it! Sometimes, her face went red. Embarrassment, anger, or even too much wine could do it. It was an annoying fact of life.

She hastily pulled up the hood of her cloak, self-consciously hiding her ears. “So, Kordolian, how are we going to do this?”

Torin frowned. “I need to think on it,” he answered. “There’s a word you humans have for a situation like this. What is it again? Ah, stalemate. In Kordolian, we call it nakurathi: ‘Your blade at my neck, my blade at yours.’”

“But nobody’s holding a blade to your neck.”

“No, but we’re stuck. The atmospheric air of this ship only supports Ephrenian life. I can survive out there for short periods of time, but you can’t.” He frowned. “Somehow, I need to convince them to turn around and return to Zarhab Groht.”

“What’s stopping you, then? I’ve just seen you survive a close-range plasma blast.” The un-reality of it all still hadn’t completely sunk in. Who the hell was this seemingly indestructible warrior, who possessed abilities far beyond her comprehension, and where had he come from? He’d dropped into her life like some sort of dark guardian angel, and the scholar in Seph was dying to unravel his truth.

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