Bonded to the Alien Centurion Read online

  “No, please. I need to speak to Sardaan K’Vass,” Dani protested as the metal monsters hauled her into a cell in the lower levels of the ship. She’d tried to fight, dig her heels in, but she was no match for their non-human strength. They’d simply hauled her off her feet, and it became a case of walk or be dragged. She had enough dignity to want to walk.

  But the sight of the cell door looming largely ahead of her like the cavernous maw of some space beast, ready to swallow her up whole, changed all that. Fear lanced her, the sure feeling that if she let herself be taken in there she would never get out.

  “No! No!” She struggled against the metal monsters so violently one of them lurched to the side. Hope filled her. Perhaps she could fight them. She redoubled her efforts, throwing her weight from side to side in an effort to knock them off balance. If she could just get one wrist free…

  They moved in concert, yanking her arms up above her head until her toes only just grazed the floor. A soft cry escaped her lips, fire racing down her arms from her wrists to her shoulders as she was suspended.

  She closed her eyes, her head dropping forward in defeat. She couldn’t fight them after all. They were just too powerful. Her heart thundered in her chest, her breathing shortened as they dragged her through the doorway into the cell. It was dark and dank, something dripping down the wall in the far corner.

  The monsters pulled her to the center of the room and the clamp of their metal hands was replaced with the hard band of manacles as they chained her up. The chains above her head rattled slightly with her weight as they let her go. She was on her tiptoes still, her entire body taut.

  The machines turned and stomped out of the cell, the door clanging shut with a resounding crash behind them. Silence filled the room, only relieved by the drip-drip-drip in the corner and the soft rasp of her breath.

  Waiting a few minutes longer to be sure that the machines were actually gone, she lifted her head. She might have lost the battle, but she wasn’t down and out. The "war" was still to be won. She looked up at her bonds. There were heavy manacles around her wrists attached to chains. She squinted up into the darkness above. The light didn’t reach that far up, but it looked like the chain her manacles were attached to was simply looped over a hook up there.

  If she could get up there somehow, she could unhook herself. She’d still be in the cell, but she wouldn’t be as helpless as she was now.

  Her lips compressed with grim determination. Lifting up as high as she could, she got a grip on the chains above her manacles. A sharp tug on them proved they were solid.

  Gathering herself, she tensed her body and pulled upward. Smoothly, she folded herself up, pushing upward with her legs. Her feet just brushed something overhead but didn’t catch it properly. She hissed, the muscles in her shoulders burning, but she held on. Tensing her stomach muscles, she pushed further, her body screaming from the exertion as lactic acid began to build.

  Finally, she managed to get a foot over whatever it was up there. She hoped it was a pipe. Thoughts of more of the metal combat machines hidden up there in the darkness sent a cold sweat slithering down her spine. At any moment she expected those dagger-like claws to punch through her thigh as she hooked first one leg and then the other over the pipe.

  It was still dark up there. She hung like a bat for a few moments, waiting for her eyes to adjust. After a few moments they did, and the inky darkness yielded to a world of gray and black.

  She’d been right. The chain attached to her manacles was simply looped over a hook on the pipe. Her gaze traveled along it, noting three more. The cell could hold four. She was thankful she was the only one. Because if she could lift herself up here and get free, then damn sure a Latharian warrior could.

  Still hanging upside down, she started to lift the chain off the hook and grunted as it wouldn’t move. She wriggled closer to look, feeling along the links to see what the problem was. It didn’t take her long.

  Obviously the chains were used to hold prisoners a lot heavier than she was. Over time, and presumably after many pissed off prisoners thrashing about trying to break out, the metal had kinked together. It almost seemed pressure-welded in place.

  Gritting her teeth, she worked at the obstruction, trying to get it loose. It fought her, refusing to budge, and she hissed as her fingers skittered across it, the sharp edge of the metal catching and ripping into her skin.

  “Bastard thing!” She stuck her hurt finger in her mouth for a few seconds until it stopped smarting. Pulling it free, she shook it for a few seconds and then went right back to trying to free the chain.

  After a couple of tries, both hands either side and yanking it back and forth, it gave. She fist-pumped the air in triumph, gripped the bar and unfurling her legs to drop lightly down to the metal floor.

  And there she stood. Okay. She was free from the hook, but she was still in the cell. Her gaze zeroed in on the cell door, but before she could make a move toward it to try and pick the lock, the sound of booted feet echoed down the corridor.

  All her senses on alert, she drew back into the darkness, wrapping the chain around her hands. All she needed was one of the Lathar to step in here with her, and she had him. She’d choke him out and leave him hidden in the shadows, making her escape. Now that she knew the layout of the ship, it wouldn’t take her long to get back to Sardaan’s quarters and make him listen to her. Tell him about the attack.

  15

  Sardaan had no idea what to expect when he reached the cell they’d taken his faithless mate to, but it wasn’t for the damn thing to be empty.

  But it was.

  The chains in the middle of the room where the prisoners were normally strung up dangled motionlessly, holding no one. Oddly, one set was missing. He dismissed it as maintenance. There was no way even an experienced Terran soldier like Dani could have escaped both the avatar bots and her chains.

  “Draanthic idiots,” he hissed as he approached the bars. A quick glance at the cell identifier on the back wall told him he was in the right block. Had the pilots gotten it wrong and taken her somewhere else? Perhaps to one of the lower blocks?

  “Sardaan?”

  He was about to turn away when Dani’s voice sounded from the darkness at the back of the cell. He froze as she emerged slowly, hope written across her expressive face. The first time he’d seen her she’d been so self-contained he’d wondered if he would ever be able to break through her shields to the woman within. Since they’d been mated though—since he’d made her his—he’d been able to read her expressions perfectly. Not that she telegraphed them, but he’d learned to note the little changes in her body language, the light in her eyes. Nothing about her was hidden from him.

  Or so he’d thought.

  If you’d asked him this morning, he’d have said the strong, sexy woman he’d mated hid a soft soul and gentle core. That she was a woman who cared about those around her, cared about the few she let into her life. Now, though, after seeing her disable the ship’s systems and cold-heartedly condemn them all to whatever fate the human attackers had in store for them, he wasn’t so sure he knew her at all.

  If he’d ever known her.

  “Oh god, I thought they’d never tell you I was down here.”

  His mood darkened as he opened the cell only for her to throw herself into his arms, one arm up around his neck, the other against his chest, even though the movement was constrained by her chains. He didn’t wrap his arms around her, even though he wanted to, despite what she’d done.

  And that angered him all the more.

  “They didn’t need to tell me,” he ground out between gritted teeth. He didn’t know this woman. “I was the one who ordered you brought down here.”

  He felt the jerk of surprise and the sudden stiffness in her frame as she pulled back to look at him. The look of surprise on her face morphed into one of quickly concealed hurt. She withdrew her arms carefully, and for a second he hated the wariness that flitted across her face and rewrote t
he lines of her body… and then he remembered she was an accomplished actress. She’d have to be to fool him so completely he almost believed she, a human soldier, could fall for a Lathar.

  “You did?”

  He watched as she rebuilt herself from the sudden blow he’d dealt her. Not physical—as much as he loathed her, he couldn’t raise a hand to a female—but the emotional one. No, not rebuilt herself, he reminded himself, even though it looked a lot like it. No, instead, she was stripping the layers away rather than adding them, reverting to the stone-cold soldier she was deep inside.

  “Of course you did.” Her lips quirked into a bitter smile that tugged at the heartstrings he swore he didn’t have. “You knew what I’d done as soon as I did it. Didn’t you? That’s why those machines got to me so quickly.”

  She made to step back from him, but he shot out a hand, gripping the back of her neck in a hard hand. Not the gentle caress he’d used before, but tight and controlling. Keeping her in place. Ruthlessly.

  Her lips compressed but he caught the flare of stubbornness in her eyes. She wouldn’t cry out, no matter how much he hurt her.

  “Got it in one, sweetheart.” He threw the human endearment at her with a curl of his lip. He’d never again call her kelarris. His beloved. She didn’t deserve it. Perhaps never had. “Now, you’re going to tell me everything about the Terran plans. Leave anything out and things will go much worse for you. Understand me?”

  She didn’t struggle against his hold. “Before we start. What happens to me after this?”

  “You don’t get to ask the questions. I do,” he snarled, not wanting to even think about that question, let alone its answer. His grip tightened, until her lips parted on a soft gasp. “Do. You. Understand?”

  He saw the shutters come down in her eyes, but she nodded. “I understand.”

  Shoving her from him, he grabbed the chain that linked her hands and effortlessly hauled her hands above her head, throwing it over the hook nearest him. A quick yank on the chains activated the dampeners, deadening the nervous impulses in her arms and shoulders. The hook she’d been on must have been malfunctioning, or she’d never have been able to haul herself up and free herself.

  “I don’t think you do.” He reached out to grip her neck again. Her mask cracked, and she flinched as he yanked her toward him.

  His voice was low and dangerous as he spoke, “Now, I want to know about the human plans. Everything, or I’ll make sure you regret it.”

  He’d thought he’d have to pressure her, use force or violence, but Sardaan walked away from the cell less than ten minutes later with the most disturbing and hilarious news he’d ever heard.

  The Terrans planned to kidnap the emperor. He couldn’t work out if he wanted to laugh or be impressed by their sheer audacity if they seriously thought they could just waltz onto any Latharian ship and kidnap anyone, much less Daaynal. Not only were there hordes of Latharian warriors ready to lay down their lives protecting their emperor, but the emperor himself was possibly the scariest warrior Sardaan had ever met… possibly in recorded Latharian history. The rumors said he could pilot a whole battle group of drakeen while leading the charge himself.

  The idea of the humans even managing to reach him… was amusing.

  Even more amusing was the fact the emperor wasn’t even aboard. He’d returned to his own ship with his retinue.

  Sardaan’s smile faded, though, as the image of Dani in chains filled his mind. She hadn’t looked at him as she’d given up her people’s plans, her voice level and unemotional. She’d given him everything but she’d refused to look at him, not even when he’d yanked her chin up. Instead, she’d just closed her eyes.

  He’d put it down to her being done with him now her cover had been blown, but a little niggle of doubt in the back of his mind just wouldn’t leave him. When he’d left the cell, he’d heard her sigh, the soft exhalation with a slight catch in it. When he’d looked back, her head was down, resignation in every line of her delicate frame.

  His heart ached in his chest, even though he knew it was an act. It had to be. Otherwise… he’d just broken his mate to get what he wanted. That little flinch replayed in his mind. Over and over. He shook it off as he reached the bridge.

  Danaar looked up as he walked through the door. “Did you get her to talk?”

  Sardaan nodded, crossing to his duty station. “Yes. The humans plan to board and try to kidnap the emperor.”

  Silence fell on the bridge so complete that for a moment he thought the humans had slipped through their defenses and dropped a sonic charge. Then Danaar’s shoulders started to shake, his lips splitting into a broad grin as he started to laugh. The deep, rich sound filled the bridge, as startling as the silence had been.

  “I’m sorry… I thought for a moment you’d said the humans planned to kidnap the emperor?”

  “I did.”

  Sardaan’s expression didn’t change. No hint of a smile on his face. As ludicrous as the idea was, a threat to the emperor was no laughing matter. It could spark a war between humanity and the Lathar.

  On the one hand, that would solve a lot of his people’s problems. A war would allow them to invade and asset strip the Terran worlds. And by that, he meant the females. Every warrior could have a mate. Several. Their reproductive problems would be over and their lines secure… And he’d never be able to look Dani in the eye again.

  Not that it mattered. She was his mate, but he would release her. Send her back to Earth when all this was done. Let her people deal with her. He had no clue what they’d do with a woman… a soldier… who had given up all their plans, but he couldn’t imagine it would be good.

  Not his problem.

  Danaar chuckled. “I take it they haven’t realized he’s no longer aboard then?”

  “Nope. Doesn’t appear that way. They plan to board with at least three assault teams.” His hands flew over his console, and an image of the interior of the ship showed in the middle of the bridge. The warriors on the bridge all turned from their stations to look.

  “AI predicts they’ll breech in these locations.” Three dots appeared on the outer hull. “And make their way in toward the few locations the humans know about on the ship.”

  Danaar growled in the back of his throat as the dots made their way to the interior of the ship, splitting off to hit different locations—the bridge, the main hall and the captain’s quarters. “Your female was in the emperor’s quarters. She gave him up?”

  Sardaan shook his head, but then cut the motion off. He didn’t want to think she had…but he didn’t know her. Not like he’d thought he did.

  “We have to assume she did, yes,” he admitted, altering the prediction to the VIP guest quarters Daaynal had occupied while he was aboard.

  Danaar nodded. “Okay. We’ll give them enough rope to hang themselves then. Post extra details on the three target locations and clear the halls and corridors. Let’s bring them in and pick them up when they get to their objective.”

  With a quiet murmur the staff went back to their positions. The next half hour was interspersed with low voices as Danaar’s orders were carried out.

  “Terran ships are changing positions,” a warrior from the other side of the bridge announced as the three ships in front of them fired engines briefly to settle into a new position. Normally they wouldn’t have thought anything of it, dismissing the alteration in position as routine. They often did it themselves when in a battlegroup. But this time they were alert and aware.

  “Ships incoming. Their cloaks are crude but holding.”

  “Let them come,” Danaar growled.

  Sardaan looked over at the big warrior sitting in the command chair. His face was set, expression brooding as he stared at the image of the human vessels on the main screen. He suspected that, given half a chance, Danaar would prefer to storm the Terran ships, both stopping the imminent sneak attack and recovering the human female he wanted.

  They’re not worth it, brother, he tho
ught, going back to looking at his console as it tracked the ships sneaking toward them. Time slowed to a crawl as they waited, each breath taking an eternity. As they waited, he trawled through the recent activity logs for the ship to clear them. It was a routine task, one he might as well get done while he had some time on his hands.

  He frowned as he noticed an odd reading. It was a communication coming into the ship, to his quarters. But no one had told him that the Terrans had contacted Dani… He tried to play the recording back, but then frowned as he found an unfamiliar encryption. It was the work of a moment to use the ship AI to break through it. As he played the recording back, his expression grew tighter. For a moment he couldn’t move, every cell in his body filled with rage.

  She hadn’t betrayed him.

  They’d threatened her. Put her in an impossible situation. Used her emotions against her.

  The red alert lights illuminated the bridge, dragging him out of his rage-filled paralysis. He locked his emotions down and concentrated on his duty. There would be time for him to fetch his little mate later and beg her forgiveness. Work on making what was wrong between them right again.

  “Outer hull breached,” the ship’s computer advised. “Internal alarms on silent.”

  “Bring up their progress on the main screen,” Danaar ordered. With a few movements, Sardaan nodded.

  “On screen.”

  The attention of the senior staff focused on the view screen. The three ships had breached the hull exactly where he’d predicted and after the second, the screen split to show an internal view as the Terran combat teams exited through the boarding hatches.

  He had to give it to them. They were very good. They moved quickly and efficiently, in total silence. It wasn’t quite how Lathar units moved, but close enough that it was recognizable. He could definitely see Dani as one of the black-clad warriors… soldiers, he corrected himself, they called their warriors soldiers instead.

  His gaze latched onto the leader of the third team. That it was a woman was obvious. The slender figure was secondary to the graceful way she moved. Her face was obscured by her mask, but a strand of red hair escaped the bindings at the back of her neck. At the station next to him, Isan straightened, his gaze locked to the image on the screen like a kinerys hawk.