Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
“Leave me alone! Get off me!” I shrieked, my voice going high and tight. This whole thing was bringing back the horrible party where the boy I’d been with had attacked me and Slade had killed him for it. But my big brother wasn’t here now to protect me. He was thousands of light years away back on Rigelis Nine and I was trapped in deep space with a man who was intent on raping me.
I screamed again and thrashed against the tile wall, trying desperately to get away. If he got it in me—
Just then someone shouted,
“What the fuck?” and the blunt probe of Jerx’s shaft was abruptly withdrawn as the huge Brute was dragged off me.
I pushed off from the tile wall and saw that it was Turk. He had on his tight, black uniform trousers and shiny black boots but the shirt he wore was unbuttoned and flapping behind him. It was as though he’d gotten halfway dressed and then had decided to come back down to the crew deck for some reason.
Possibly he’d heard my screaming—though certainly none of the other crew had come to see what was happening. Maybe getting raped in the shower was a normal occurrence aboard The Illyrian and nobody wanted to interfere.
But Turk wasn’t acting like rape was the norm. His bronze eyes blazed as he glared at Jerx, who was still naked. Also, he was baring his fangs, which were long and curving and looked extremely dangerous.
This was only the second time in my life I’d ever seen Turk’s fangs. I had heard that the Brutes of Clan Savage who had fangs—(and it wasn’t all of them, just an elite few)—only bared them when they were ready to kill.
I’d seen him bite the asshole at the bar who had drugged me and seen the effects of his venom. But I’d been half out of it then. Now I was wide awake and saw how deadly he looked—if I was Jerx, I’d be afraid.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Turk growled at him.
“Just takin’ my turn with the Catamite, Captain—that’s all.”
Jerx nodded his chin at me defiantly.
“What fucking Catamite?” Turk demanded. “Cass isn’t a Catamite!”
“Yes, he is!” Jerx protested. “Just lookit him! He’s got all the markings—big gold eyes and a pretty face. There’s no way he doesn’t have Cata Prime blood in him!”
“It doesn’t fucking matter what Cass looks like, he is not a Catamite—he’s a navigator!” Turk growled.
Jerx shot me a sullen look.
“Gurflug said he was—said you bought him just for the Crew to use.”
Turk didn’t seem to buy this excuse at all.
“You’ve crewed aboard The Illyrian for the past six missions,” he growled. “What the fuck makes you think I’d pay a Catamite to service the crew? You know The Illyrian isn’t that kind of ship!”
“I dunno—it was just what Gurflug said!” Jerx snarled. “So I was just helping myself, that’s all.”
“Even if I did bring a Catamite on board—which I never fucking would—it still wouldn’t be all right for you to fucking rape him!” Turk growled.
“But Gurflug said—” Jerx began.
“Enough!” Turk held up a hand. “Get dressed and go get Gurflug. I want both of you in my Ready Room in the next ten fucking minutes. Move it!” he snapped.
The big Brute hurried out of the shower room and Turk turned to me. His face changed from one of anger and disgust to something softer when he took me in.
I was crouched against the wall with my arms clutched to my chest and my knees drawn up to my chin, trying to hide my nakedness. My palm stung where I had scraped it raw and I swore I could still feel Jerx’s hand on my neck and his shaft probing at my bottom.
“Hey,” Turk said softly. “You okay, boy?”
I most definitely was not okay. I felt small and battered and vulnerable. I was the weakest link aboard The Illyrian—I knew that now. I was fair prey for anyone who wanted to use me and there was nothing I could do to stop them.
I had never felt so scared and unsafe in my life—not even after the attempted assault that Slade had stopped or the time in the bar where Turk had rescued me from the guy who had drugged me.
But of course, I couldn’t say any of that.
“I…I’m fine,” I said and my voice broke on a sob. Quickly, I swiped at my eyes, which—to my horror—were streaming. I couldn’t afford to break down like this, I told myself frantically. As a woman I might expect to be comforted if the tears started flowing, but no one felt pity when a man cried. They felt disgust and contempt for his weakness.
But Turk didn’t look disgusted. The expression on his face was more like pity.
“Come on,” he said, going to get my towel, which was still hanging on the peg beside the shower I’d been using. He draped the limp fabric around my shoulders and offered me a hand up.