Adiron (Corsair Brothers 1)

Endless. Possibilities.

So I reach to his side and give his tail a teasing little stroke, because I know it makes him all riled up. "I'll be all right," I promise him. "Just work as fast as you can, please."

"After that tail pull? You bet I will." He growls low in his throat, picks me up, plants a hot, fervent kiss on my lips, and then sets me atop the nearest stasis pod. "You sit here. I'll handle things."

"Right on someone's face?" I joke, wriggling a little. It's disturbing to me that I'm sitting atop a coffin that someone's asleep in. I know it's not really a coffin. I know they're not really asleep…but I can't shake the feeling that whoever's in there is going to be highly aware of my ass on their property and not approve.

Adiron just grins at me, all boyish charm. "I'm sure she won't mind."

As he walks away, I peer at the window between my thighs and shudder. "I think it's a he. A really ugly he, too."

That gets Adiron's attention. He immediately changes course, heading back to me, and leans over to peer at the window. I obligingly spread my thighs as widely as possible so he can see what's underneath, and it occurs to me that there's a sexy pun or two to be had here. I look up at him, ready to crack a joke, and the look on his face makes me pause. "What's wrong?" I ask.

He draws up a little, giving me an odd glance. "You've…never felt the need to open these, right?"

"No, never. I thought it was kinder to let them sleep. Why?"

He taps on the stasis pod I'm perched on. "Because this one? This one is a problem. A big, keffing problem."

52

ADIRON

Every time I turn around, this keffing ship is giving us a new, unpleasant surprise.

Jade looks up at me with those wide, gorgeous eyes, no idea that she's seated atop the nastiest, most brutal killer I've ever seen.

Here I've been joking about opening the pods or killing the inhabitants to ensure our survival, but I wasn't truly serious. Now, though, after seeing Crulden the Ruiner, I want to space every keffing pod in this hold and forget we ever stepped foot in here.

I pull my mate off the pod and tuck her behind me. "Don't sit on that one."

"What is it?" She asks. "What's the problem?"

I point at the pod. "Under no circumstances are you to ever, ever EVER open that one, all right? I don't care if you open all the other ones in this hold…" I pause. "Well no, actually, I do care. If there's one gladiator in this mix, there's bound to be others. In fact, we're not opening any of these. Ever again. We'd be doing the universe a favor if we just spaced every single non-human here—"

Jade grabs my hand and strokes it. "Slow down. We're not spacing anyone. Why are you panicking? Breathe, all right? Just breathe." Her fingers brush over my skin in a calming motion. "I'm right here. Let's go sit down AWAY from the pods and talk."

I let her lead me to the far side of the cargo bay, and when she indicates I should sit on an empty crate, I do, and immediately tug her into my lap. She doesn't protest, just looks up at me with that concerned expression. Jade reaches up and brushes my hair off my forehead, watching me and waiting for an explanation.

"That alien in that pod is bad news. Very bad news." I hold her close, latching my tail around her just in case she tries to slip out of my grasp. "I know you think everyone deserves a chance, but Crulden the Ruiner absolutely does not. If we want to do the galaxy a favor, we'll shove that pod out the cargo bay doors and forget it was ever here."

Her small dark brows furrow together. "Is he like…Hitler? What alien race is he?"

"I don't know who Hitler is, but that male in that pod is a splice. He's not any specific race but a creature born in a lab, made from all the worst bits of a bunch of races so they could make a killing machine. He's a gladiator. Kind of. He got banned for being too brutal for the vid audiences…and that should tell you everything you need to know about him." I don't want to tell her that I've seen a few vids and had to turn them off myself. Of Crulden eviscerating his opponents and feasting on the pieces. Of him breaking through to the next match and killing those gladiators and their handlers, too, before his team could get him under control. Of him doing terrible, terrible things to his “prizes” that he won, and that those prizes were usually small, fragile females.