Page 31 of Taming Chaos

Screams ripped through the air.

Shik. Shik. Shik.

One by one, the Bartharrans fell. Seph gasped as a head rolled out from between the legs of a group of shocked Bartharrans.

What the fuck, Torin?

He was killing them. Without warning, without negotiation, without hesitation. He became a terrifying black whirlwind in a sea of yellow and rust-red, showing no mercy.

And all Seph could do was look on in horror as Torin cut a swathe through the Bartharrans. For the moment, it seemed her would-be captors had forgotten about her.

The Kordolian had stolen the show in the most brutal way.

I can be far, far worse.

Now she understood… a little.

How could this be the same Torin who just moments ago had curled his big, warm body so protectively around her, who had spoken to her in such deep, reassuring tones?

Who had been so fucking nice to her?

He emerged as quickly as he’d disappeared, a black specter wielding vicious Callidum. Sprays of Bartharran blood—colored deep, dark red, just like a human’s—stained the grey metal floor.

Instead of chasing after Torin, the Bartharrans hesitated, naked fear creeping across their weathered faces.

Suddenly, the collective attention of a hundred or so Bartharrans turned toward Seph as Torin sped in her direction.

Adrenaline pushed her heartbeat into overdrive. Fear sharpened her senses. Logic warred with deeply buried primal instincts, and she had to remind herself that Torin wasn’t her enemy.

As he reached the entrance of the crate, he turned to face the Bartharrans. “I am claiming this human,” Torin snarled, using a crude, highly accented form of Universal. Really, how many languages and variants did he speak? “If the buyer has a problem with this, he is welcome to come and discuss it with me personally. I am claiming my right to safe passage. Anybody who takes issue with my presence onboard this vessel is also welcome to come and discuss with me.” He inclined his head, elegantly sheathing his twin swords in a single swift motion. “Unless you wish to meet the same fate as your brethren,” he nodded toward the pile of bodies on the floor, “you will leave us be. You challenge me, you die. You threaten my property, you die. I will go where I please. I will take what I want. I expect to be left alone.”

I am claiming this human. Why did his fierce declaration of ownership stir such strange warmth in Seph’s chest?

Torin retracted his helm, revealing his face to the Bartharrans for the first time. The aliens responded with low growls and hisses, but none of them dared make a move.

“As long as you do not upset me, I will keep my blades sheathed. Do we have an agreement?”

One of the Bartharrans—a scarred male with dreadlocks, a long beard, and a body made from slabs of muscle—stepped forward. The captain of this shit-heap, perhaps? He unsheathed a long dagger and sliced down the inside of his forearm, spilling blood onto the floor. “Malhak,” he said, his gravelly voice laced with a strange combination of fear, loathing, and reverence, “we accept you and your charge as passengers onboard the Skalreg Va. You will not be disturbed for the duration of the journey.”

“What type of transport is this, Clannath?” Perhaps that was the Bartharran word for captain.

“Pirate.”

“Plunder, or passage?”

“Both. Bond-prisoners are securely held in the lowermost levels. Paying passengers are on the top.”

Seph’s confusion grew. Pirates? Bond-prisoners? Passengers? Was this some sort of prisoner-transport ship run by pirates?

Torin didn’t show any reaction to the information. “Where is the Skalreg Va headed?”

“Bartharra. The Rakthari Coast.”

Abruptly, Torin turned. “I will need a cabin on the upper level,” he snapped. “The one who wanted to buy her… is he up there?”

“Yes, Malhak.”

“I will pay him a visit. Do not get in my way. Anyone who dares touch my property will lose a hand… perhaps more.”

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