War Bride (Battle Born Book 7) (6 page)

“I have no idea.” He seemed uncomfortable, so she wasn’t surprised when he bowed and left the cabin.

She blew out a ragged sigh then looked around, unsure how she felt about her new cage. The other cabin had been more confining. It was a continual reminder of her true circumstances. This might weaken her resolve, allow her to forget that she was a prisoner. Maybe she should refuse all the comforts Tonn had provided. She could stay in the bathrobe and—she harmed no one but herself with that attitude. Kryton didn’t care what she wore. He’d only take it off her soon after he arrived anyway.

With another sigh of frustration, she walked into the bedroom and went through the things Tonn had gathered for her. She selected a dress and set it aside, then hung the others in the closet. Each garment was rich and elegant, obviously meant for wealthy customers. Why would a Rodyte warship have such things on board? Maybe Kryton and his crew weren’t part of the legitimate military. Dread sank into her belly as her thoughts spiraled downward. Was Kryton a pirate or a Rodyte-sanctioned privateer?

She shook away the useless speculation and slipped into the borrowed dress. The style was simple, even a bit provincial with a lace-up bodice and long, loose skirt. The quality of the fabric and the construction of the garment were excellent and she liked the vivid blue color. She found a pair of slip-on shoes in the canvas bag, along with lotion, a brush, decorative combs and a variety of personal care items. Tonn had done well to anticipate her needs.

After putting everything away in the utility room, she stepped into the shoes and returned to the outer room. Food was delivered a short time later, though she didn’t have much of an appetite. Sitting around worrying about what would happen the next time Kryton walked through the door was pointless. She needed some sort of a strategy. Allowing him to control the situation had been a disaster.

Her one and only weapon against him was her wits. She had to keep him talking, help him see beyond his obsession. If he saw her as a person, not just a sexual object, perhaps she could… What? Talk him out of seducing her? Not only was the possibility hopeless, thanks to her visions, she knew he’d succeed in the end.

She set the tray near the door and went to the corner workstation. The computer greeted her in Bilarrian, so she quickly navigated through the menus to determine what “limited access” meant. She found the library database, but the vast majority of books were in Rodyte. There weren’t any books in Bilarrian. No surprise there. However, she found a small selection of Ontarian titles and she was also literate in that language.

Several hours passed as she alternated between brooding and reading. The subtle swish of the door warned her that she had a visitor. She didn’t bother turning around. She knew who it was, could sense Kryton’s commanding presence without seeing his face.

“Is this your new strategy?” A hint of amusement threaded through his voice. “Pretend I don’t exist?”

With obvious reluctance, she stood then turned around. Kryton was wearing his uniform jacket for the first time since she’d awakened. She was no expert on the Rodyte military, but the garment certainly looked official and intimidating. “Will you leave if I do?”

“Am I really that intolerable?” He stalked toward her, his movements slow and controlled.

“You wouldn’t be intolerable if you’d behave.” The closer he drew the harder her heart pounded.

“If you truly wanted me to behave, you wouldn’t respond to my misbehavior.” He stood close enough to touch her now, yet his hands remained at his sides. “I thought about you all day.”

“And I’ve spent all day thinking of ways to escape you.”

He laughed softly then motioned toward the dining area. “Did you come up with a viable plan?”

“Telling you the details isn’t part of the plan.” She followed him across the room and slipped onto the chair he pulled out.

He seated himself across from her then rested his forearms on the table. “Do you like the cabin?”

She shrugged. “One cage is much the same as another. I’m still unable to leave.”

“Where would you go if I released you? Back to your empty life?”

His attempted insult was so absurd it made her smile. “Are you honestly implying that I’m better off as your captive?”

As usual, her refusal to cower before him made him scowl. “I’m offering you much more than captivity. You just refuse to consider it.”

“If I surrender, allow you to use me, you’ll shower me with gifts and meaningless luxuries. But you’ll still take away my child. Nothing you can offer would be worth that tragedy.”

Before he could reply, someone knocked on the door. Kryton called out a Rodyte greeting without taking his eyes off her. A small parade of young men followed, each bearing a covered dish. They arranged everything on the table. The last man set empty plates and flatware in front of Kryton and then Skyla. The visitors left without making eye contact with her or uttering one word.

“Is everyone on your ship that friendly or are they just afraid of you?”

“They sense the frustration in me and want no part of it. I suppose one could call that fear.” Kryton scooted his chair back then stood. “What would you like to drink?”

“It makes no difference to me.”

“Of course it doesn’t,” he grumbled. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

She lowered her gaze and took a deep breath. Angering him only encouraged him to touch her, to demonstrate his dominance. Keeping him talking was a much better strategy. “I’d enjoy a glass of blood wine. If it’s available.”

His head dipped, acknowledging her request. Then he moved to the food dispenser and ordered a bottle of blood wine. After the kiosk printed the bottle and two glasses, he carried everything back to the table. “The dress suits you, brings out the color of your eyes.”

She took the glass of wine he proffered before responding to the compliment. “I appreciate the dresses, but I can’t help wondering why a Rodyte warship has female garments on board.”

He returned to his seat and poured himself a glass of wine. “I doubt the truth is as entertaining as the explanations you concocted.”

“Tell me the truth and we’ll compare.” His gaze searched hers for a moment and she realized her friendly tone came precariously close to flirting.

“The dresses, along with a wide selection of other valuables, were aboard a ship we were sent to salvage. The crew had abandoned the ship long before we arrived. We never so much as saw them.” He uncovered one of the dishes and motioned for her plate. “How did you explain it?”

She handed him her plate with a quick smile. “The simplest answer was that the dresses belonged to someone’s lover or a pleasure giver. But the quality is exceptional.”

“Pleasure givers are only allowed on long-range missions. I tend to stay pretty close to home.”

She nodded, trying to relax despite the awareness that pulsed between them whenever he was near. “It was also evident that the dresses are new, so that explanation didn’t make sense.”

“What was your next conclusion?” He set her plate down, his attention focused entirely on her.

“That Tonn had used the ship’s main production kiosk to print the dresses.” Her mouth dried out as his intense stare lingered on her face. She took a quick sip of wine before adding, “Again the quality was too fine. Besides, why would a military ship catalogue the patterns for female garments?”

“Your logic has been flawless so far. Do you have a final conclusion?”

“I wondered if you were a pirate. Of course, pirates don’t generally bother with uniforms.”

He filled her plate with small portions from several of the dishes before handing it back to her. “I’m not a pirate.”

“I know. Tonn told me you’re a general.” Anger sparked within his eyes, confirming her suspicions, so she quickly amended, “He didn’t actually say the word, so please don’t punish him. It was a minor slip and I wasn’t sure until you reacted just now.” Kryton said nothing as she picked up her fork and studied her plate. Nothing looked familiar, but at least he wasn’t sticking to the eat-from-my-hand and drink-from-my-lips stipulations. She’d heard that Rodyte food was spicy, so she took a tiny bite of everything before deciding what to eat. “How long have you served in the military?”

“My entire adult life.” He wasn’t paying much attention to his food as he shoveled it into his mouth. Apparently, she was much more interesting than the contents of his plate. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m curious about you,” she admitted softly. “Is that allowed?”

He set down his fork and took a drink of wine. His expression was inscrutable, as usual. She didn’t think he’d answer, then he asked, “What do you want to know?”

His indulgence wouldn’t last long. She needed to make her questions count. “Do you have a
morautu
?” It was a foolish question. Even if he had a chosen mate stashed away somewhere, why would he tell her?

He quickly took another drink, but not before she saw speculation gleaming in his eyes. “How would I form a mating bond with you if my
morautu
were still alive?”

So at one time, he had been bonded with his chosen mate. A layer of his protection peeled back and she sensed the pain deep inside him. She was tempted to ask what had happened, but the answer couldn’t be pleasant if the female was no longer alive. “Do you have children?”

As suddenly as his indulgent mood appeared, it vanished. “Eat. You’re too damn skinny.”

She nearly laughed at the claim. She was anything but skinny. Her round hips and fleshy thighs made many fashionable styles impossible for her to wear. Still, compared to him, she was tiny. She took a long drink of wine before she said, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m not upset. I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”

She knew an excuse when she heard one. She had upset him. “Neither of us is eating much. Will all this food go to waste?”

He shook his head. “Nearly everything on a spaceship is recycled. Nothing goes to waste.”

That made her feel a little better, but she still had so many questions. Perhaps he’d answer if the question was less personal. “Have Rodytes figured out a way to circumvent the mating bond?”

His eyes widened and he pushed his plate aside. Clearly, she’d surprised him. “What led you to such a wild conclusion?”

Unraveling mysteries had always appealed to her and this question had been rattling around in her head since long before her abduction. Her prophetic dreams had warned her that she would become a war bride, so she tried to learn as much as possible about the situation. “You planned to capture me, selected me from a list of females. I presume they were all genetically compatible with you.” He didn’t confirm or argue with her statement, so she continued. “Such is not always the case. I know of many war brides who were not personally targeted. They were captured during battle or were simply the victim of circumstance.”

After a silent pause, he pointed out, “Those are statements not questions.”

She’d started this by asking a specific question. He was the one who had evaded the answer. If he wanted specific questions, she’d give them to him. “How are war brides impregnated if they’re not genetically compatible with their captors?”

He stood and covered the dishes then refilled their wineglasses. “It’s better, safer, for both male and female if they’re genetically compatible. But we now have a compound that makes the mating bond unnecessary. The scientist who created the compound is working hard to make the procedure safer. Right now it’s extremely dangerous for both male and female.”

“Then why do they do it? Why endanger two lives when the outcome is so unpredictable?”

“You’d have to be Rodyte to understand.”

“You’re Rodyte.” She stood as well, but moved to the opposite end of the table, creating a barrier between them. “Explain it to me.”

His eyes narrowed and he snatched his wineglass off the table. “Are you mocking me?”

“No. I’m trying to understand you, trying to find something resembling common ground.”

Slowly, he raised his glass and took a sip. His gaze never left her and his free hand clenched into a tight fist. Clearly he was conflicted, but she couldn’t determine the specific factors clashing inside his mind. With one quick scan she could find out. She’d have access to his emotions as well as his thoughts. But she’d taken a vow when her abilities manifested, promised not to read anyone’s mind without their permission.

Did vows apply to the enemy?

Before she could decide one way or the other, he began to speak. “I know what you’re thinking. I’ve heard it all before. How can Rodytes miss what we’ve never known?”

“It is a confusing contradiction.” She picked up her glass and followed as he meandered into the living area.

“Have you ever known someone who was born on a space station yet longed for a ‘home’ they’d never experienced?” He sat on the couch, leaving plenty of room for her to join him.

Knowing how quickly things turned physical between them, she sat facing him in an armchair instead. “A space station is not the same as a planet. I’m not sure I see the correlation.”

“All right. Why do so many people who were adopted search for their biological parents? Even those with idyllic childhoods often long for something they’ve never known. They can’t explain it, but the need is real and powerful.”