The Choosing (The Pruxnae Book 1) (6 page)

Her lips parted
and her eyes widened. “Welcome,” she said solemnly.

“You’re
welcome,” he corrected gently.

“You’re
welcome,” she repeated, slurring the unfamiliar words. A slow smile curved her
mouth upward. She pushed the disassembled filter parts toward him, picked up
the spare he’d brought along, and turned back to her work, humming as she broke
it down with quick, efficient twists of her graceful hands and inspected each
section carefully.

He pushed
himself upright and stuffed the parts for the bad filter into a spare tote,
holding the section containing the frinworms in one hand. The lot would go into
an air-tight container until he could incinerate them. In the meantime, he had
work to do, work that would go much more quickly now that Ziri’s capable hands
were helping.

The next day,
Ziri awakened surrounded by Ryn’s warm bulk. The night before, after a day
spent checking every single water filter on the entire ship, she’d been too
tired to put up her usual protest and bed down on her sleeping mat in the room
he’d given her. What good would it do anyway? Every time she laid down for the
night on the cold floor of his ship, Ryn hauled her effortlessly into his arms,
carried her to his own bedchamber, and cuddled around her like he never
intended to let her go.

She was
beginning to enjoy sleeping with him, and that wouldn’t do at all. Instead of
enjoying his company and helping him repair his ship, she should be planning an
escape or at least learning more of his language so she could insist he return
her to Tersi.

He’d thanked her
in her own language the previous day. Pleasure rippled through her and she hid
a grin in her pillow. So what if he’d mangled the word a little? At least he’d
tried. Why, she had no idea, but that was true of everything Ryn did.

Why had he
kidnapped her? Not for sex. Though he reacted to her presence often enough,
he’d never so much as placed a wrong hand on her. Not for food, either. She’d
pointed out a grove of paupau trees to him yesterday only to have him shake his
head in that way he had of telling her
absolutely not
without saying a
single word.

Stubborn man.

He didn’t need
her to pick up after him, didn’t need her for so many other things most men
wanted women for. He was teaching her how to fight, readily shared information
on how to operate his ship, and cared for her as if she were a treasured member
of his family, not a woman he’d stolen off of an unfamiliar world.

She sighed and
settled into his embrace, content to remain surrounded by his warmth for a
while longer. The ship’s air was still a little too cool for her thinner blood.
She tugged the covers up over her shoulder, closing her eyes against the lights
gradually brightening in a passable simulation of morning breaking.

Ryn’s arm
tightened around her. His hand had crept under her shirt during the night and
rested now against the underside of her left breast. It slid down and splayed
across her stomach, and his hips pressed into her bottom, rubbing his erect
manhood along her body through the barrier of their undergarments.

She held as still
as she could. Would this be the morning he forced himself on her? Would this be
the morning he violated her, as she often feared he would?

“Ziri, mmm,” he
said, his voice a husky rumble. He buried his nose in her nape and breathed
deeply. “Myengen dun arig, yarinska.”

“Myen…” Her
voice broke and stuttered to a halt. She swallowed past the fear clogging her
throat and tried again. “Myengen dun arig, Ryn.”

His hand drifted
to her shoulder, tugging and shifting, turning her completely over, putting
them chest to chest. He pulled her knees up into the cradle of his body and
skimmed gentle fingers over her cheek and jaw. Their faces were so close their noses
almost touched. She folded her hands into her own chest, away from the bare
expanse of his, and watched him carefully, hoping to divine his intent from the
expressions flickering over the stark beauty of his features.

He was studying
her, his dark eyes nearly black in the dimly lit room.

“What?” she
asked.

He captured one
of her hands and brought it close to his chest, then brushed his fingers over
her sternum through her nightgown.

Onu’s breath. He
wanted her to touch him.

She closed her
eyes and shook her head, cringing into herself, waiting for him to force her or
hurt her for disobeying. His hand fell gently on her cheek, and she flinched,
more because he’d startled her. It hadn’t hurt.

The mattress
shifted under Ryn’s weight. Ziri risked peeping at him through one barely open
eye. He rolled away from her and sat on the edge of the bed, head in hands,
shoulders slumped. The scars crisscrossing his back rippled as he stood,
grabbed his clothing, and stalked out of the bedchamber without looking back.

He’d seemed so
lost, so dejected. She’d rejected him and all he’d done was walk away. He
hadn’t hit her, hadn’t forced her. Other than kidnapping her, he’d treated her
with an unwavering gentleness, and she’d flinched away from him the first time
he’d tried to tell her he wanted her to treat him the same way.

She hid under
the covers for a long time after, pondering the sick ache gathering in her
stomach and the memory of his proud head bowing under the weight of her refusal.

* * *

It took Ziri
nearly a full sun’s pace to gather her courage and track Ryn down.

She dawdled in
his bedchamber, straightening the bed covers, readying herself for the day, and
generally found every excuse she could to avoid facing him. Yes, he’d kidnapped
her and taken her away from her home, yes, he’d chained her so she wouldn’t
escape, but he’d never so much as raised his voice to her. And he’d let her go,
hadn’t he? He’d filled her belly when she was hungry, clothed her in his own
clothes.

A sigh ripped
out of her throat. She wanted to go home. The yearning existed as a fierce ache
lodged deep in her heart, ready to burst out on the flimsiest excuse. She
wanted him to take her back to Tersi, yes, but that was no excuse for treating
him poorly while they were stuck together. Where was that trust the Tersii were
so famous for now? Couldn’t she extend a little to Ryn, at least as long as he
earned it?

Her rumbling
belly forced her out of the room into the ship at large. She stopped by the
kitchen and was both disappointed and relieved that he wasn’t there, though he
had been. The bowl he used for his daily ration of bland cereal was upside down
on a towel covering the counter next to the sink. Another bowl sat on the table
in front of the chair she normally sat in during meals.

A twinge of guilt
poked at her. Why did he have to be so thoughtful?

Ziri grabbed a
handful of fruit leather and stuck one strip in her mouth as she hurried toward
the ship’s command center. She poked her head through the open doorway. Ryn
occupied the right-hand chair at the front. His hands danced over the control
panel as gracefully as those of a wind-organ player. He was powering up the
ship’s main engine, the one that, as far as she could tell, moved them through
the galaxy every day in short, dizzying spurts.

The viewscreen
shimmered to life and Ziri frowned. That was her job, wasn’t it? Why hadn’t he
waited for her?

She slipped into
the room and perched on the edge of the other chair, studiously avoiding his
gaze as she manipulated the ship’s outside cameras, scanning their
surroundings. Another moon, this one as dull and lifeless as the first one he’d
shown her. She sighed and chewed on a second strip of fruit leather. He should’ve
found a planet with plants on it. At least then she’d have something to stare
at.

He reached
across her and slid open the panel covering the button she’d irreverently named
Buzz. She tucked the fruit leather into a clean pocket of her cargo pants and
slid back in the seat, buckling in without his usual reminder.

“Ziri.”

She sighed and
reluctantly met his gaze. His expression was flat, empty, so unlike the way
he’d started to look at her, with tender warmth and mild humor, as if it
pleased him to watch her. He jerked his chin at Buzz. Dutifully, she exhaled
and punched the button, and succumbed to the whirling darkness rising up to
meet her.

* * *

A hand pressed
tightly against her mouth and another around her nape. Ziri’s eyes flew open as
she struggled against the hard strength of the person holding her captive.

“Tuh, tuh, tuh,”
a familiar voice whispered next to her ear, and Ziri relaxed, her gaze seeking
Ryn’s automatically.

He eased back,
gradually releasing his hold on her, and nodded toward the viewscreen. They
were floating in space in the middle of a junkyard of abandoned ships of all
makes and sizes. One rotated slowly around and its command center, an oddly
shaped bump on the top of the ship, slid into view. For some reason Ziri
couldn’t fathom, dread shivered down her spine.

Ryn smoothed her
hair away from her face. His features were pinched and pale under his native
tan, and a faint tremor ran through his hands. He leaned close and brushed his
lips over her ear. “Belnyin.”

She shook her
head. That was a word she didn’t know yet, and she wished he hadn’t shared it
with her now. Whatever these Belnyin were, Ryn was afraid of them, and if he
was afraid, she had a feeling she should be terrified.

He touched his
forehead to hers, holding her still with the hand he’d curled around her nape.
His breaths were rapid and light and feathered over her mouth in warm puffs.
What was so bad it had scared the normally unflappable Ryn, the man who’d
boldly kidnapped her from her own home and shot another man in the doing
without even flinching?

His trembling
hands skimmed over her hair and face, over her shoulders and down her arms.
“Ziri,” he breathed. “Yarl Ziri.”

Abruptly, he
released her and focused on the control panel. His hands flew across it,
tweaking controls.

Ziri stayed
where she was, uncertain as to how she could help. He was… She frowned and
tried to remember the exact sequence of his routine before Buzz sent them to
another place each shipboard morning. Entering coordinates, maybe? Yes, there,
that was a systems check. He’d tried to teach her how to do one, but she’d only
understood maybe half of what he was doing. If she could read his language, it
would be different. She’d have something to help her, but between that lack and
the language barrier barring full communication with Ryn, she was lost.

His hands
stilled on the console. On the viewscreen, the other ship drifted ominously closer.
A metallic bang jolted Ryn’s ship, startling Ziri into a small yelp. Her heart
leapt into her throat. She slapped her hands over her mouth and stared
wide-eyed at Ryn. His dark eyes held a kind of hopelessness she’d never seen
before, not in him, not in anybody.

Slowly, that
look changed, morphing into fierce determination as he looked at her. He
reached past her, popped open a panel to her left, and pulled out two blasters,
gripping them both in one hand. With the other hand, he unfastened the buckles
holding her to the chair and dragged her out of it by her upper arm.

She stumbled
along behind him toward the room’s other console, an upright fixture situated
halfway between the exit and the main console. He tucked her into the small
space behind it and pushed her legs close to her body. From where she sat,
she’d be hidden from the view of anybody entering the room, at least for a few
paces. She crouched there, watching him uncertainly as he adjusted the
blaster’s settings. He raised it in front of her, touched the trigger
mechanism, and mimed movement away from the other end of the weapon.

That
she understood.
Tersii might be trusting, but they weren’t stupid. Her father had shown her how
to use a similar weapon when she was nearly grown, insisting that she become
familiar with it before he allowed her to move out on her own. She’d tucked it
away and rarely even thought about it. Who needed a weapon in Arden Hollow?

She glanced at Ryn
and scowled. Right. Trust her to be the first person needing a weapon for
something other than scaring off sand leeches, and even then, she hadn’t
thought to use it.

Where exactly
had her head been the night Ryn had barged into her home?

He pressed the
blaster into her icy hands. “Ziri,” he murmured. His eyes roamed over her face,
landing on her mouth, and before she could draw a breath, he leaned in and
captured her mouth with his own.

His lips were
soft, tender, the kiss so fleeting, she barely had time to absorb what had
happened. He drew back, pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, then pushed
himself away from her, blaster in hand. At the doorway, he paused and turned
toward her. With a single nod, he stepped through the doorway and was gone.

The door snicked
shut. A red light flashed intermittently on the panel next to it. Ziri clutched
the blaster and stared after Ryn. She should’ve shot him, should’ve tried to
escape, should’ve done anything besides sit there and let him kiss her, but no.
She was a lanoo, a stinking, onka-brained lanoo without the sense Onu had given
a garri.

Something on the
viewscreen moved, drawing Ziri’s attention to the ship drifting ever closer to
Ryn’s. The muscles tightened around her spine in a reflexive shiver. On second
thought, anything that scared Ryn into willingly giving his captive a blaster
was something she wanted to avoid meeting. She huddled behind the console and
waited for his return, hoping he’d be the next person to walk through the door
and not whatever was housed within that other ship.