Page 24 of Decadence

But first things first.

He had to seek out his little human, find out everything there was to know about her, convince her not to be terrified of him, and then seduce her.

Before he went completely insane.

Out of all the human females they’d rescued, she was the only one who would be getting a Kordolian High Commander to serve as her personal security guard.

A wry snort escaped him.

In the old days of the Empire, that never would have happened.

As Ikriss bid a curt farewell to Mavrel and stepped out of the labs, his comm buzzed.

“Report,” he snapped.

“I’ve got him.” It was Jeral, the First Division warrior who’d been sent to capture the Kordolian buyer on the black-market trading station called Zarhab Groht. Under pain of death, Ikriss had ordered the remaining Ephrenian crew to play along with the bastard’s communications; to deceive him into thinking they were still en-route with the captives.

Then he’d launched the Ephrenian ship into space with half the original crew onboard, alongside ultra-realistic holo-replicas of every single human female that had been rescued.

Even Sienna.

He gritted his teeth. They’d had to recreate her the way she looked when he first found her.

And lurking in the background of the junk-ship, there was Jeral of the First Division, and his presence alone was enough to strike deathly fear into the Ephrenian crew, because the terrifying reputation of Tarak’s elite warriors was well known in certain parts of the Universe.

So the Ephrenians did exactly what Jeral told them to do. They made a course for the trading station, and in the equivalent of a few Earth rotations, they had landed and lured the buyer onto their ship.

“Who is he?” Ikriss hissed, barely able to keep the anger out of his voice.

“Sagarath Rexu. Real piece of work, this one. One of ours, but you already knew that. Imperial loyalist. Served under Daegan. Wears the mark of the death-squad. Thinks he’s superior to everyone and everything in the fucking Universe. You know, the kind we like to eat for breakfast.”

Bastard. I’ll kill him myself. “He isn’t operating alone.”

“Someone’s giving him orders. You can almost smell the stink of Noble House shit on him. We need to get some answers out of him, but he’s a tougher shell to crack than the Ephrenians. He won’t talk unless we apply a little specialized pressure.”

“Then you bring him back, Jeral, and we will make him talk.”

“Yes. We will.” The warrior paused. “Ah…”

“Spit it out.”

Jeral let out a menacing growl. “There is another thing.”

“Report.”

“I found a captive on his ship.”

“Human?”

“What else?”

“Female, I presume?”

“Correct.”

“How bad is her condition?”

A faint hiss escaped the First Division warrior. “How did you know she was hurt?”

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