Slag: Book Four in the Galaxy Pirates Alien Abduction Romance Series (Shifter) by Alana Khan (i like reading books .TXT) 📗

When I ask, “They who?” he raises his arm to backhand me. I try not to flinch. Not so much to be a badass, but to help A’Zul stand rooted where he is and not give away that he cares for me.

“I have ways of making people talk,” he says casually.

The words “flayed alive,” scream through my mind and hang there for a moment, echoing.

“I’ve spent enough time with the dummy there that I talk constantly just to hear the sound of my own voice. But I doubt that’s what you mean.” I must be combining lines from every sassy, fast-talking starlet from every movie I’ve ever seen. This isn’t me at all. I just know I can’t let this psychopath smell my fear.

“The pirates,” he says as he leans forward and strokes his palm up and down my throat, putting just enough pressure on it to make his meaning crystal clear. “Where are they?”

When I say my mind morphed into a computer, I mean it. I’m playing the indifferent Earth girl while figuring an entire backstory as to how A’Zul and I wound up on Kallion. I suddenly realize the truth might be better than a lie. Well, at least the partial truth.

“Oh . . . are you asking about the big, blue Cerulean? And his two hideous friends?” I ask, my eyes wide. “Well, I should talk. I mean,” I glance sideways at A’Zul, “I’m not exactly hanging out with prom material, am I?” I hope my mate forgives me, but when I glance his way, he’s acting as if he doesn’t even understand what I’m saying.

“Yes. The big, blue Cerulean, and his Primian friends. I believe they took something from me.” He waits for me to look at him, then enunciates clearly as he says, “My face.”

Even in my new persona, I don’t have the balls to act like I don’t know what he's referring to. “They gave us a ride off an inhospitable planet and when they realized we had nothing to offer, they dumped us here.

“Were we by any chance . . . used as bait?” I ask suspiciously.

“All I know is until I find your friends, I’ll be taking my anger out on you two.” He purses his lips, what’s left of them.

Now A’Zul catches his interest. “And you? Have any idea where the pirates are?”

A’Zul gives him a blank look, reprising his role from the mines.

“He hasn’t talked since I met him,” I offer.

Khour whips his head toward me and orders, “Shut the drack up,” then focuses his attention back on A’Zul who stands impassively.

“There’s more here than meets the eye,” Khour says. “I’ll get to the bottom of this.” He turns to sit in his seat, then swivels back to look at me. “Are you smart enough to realize that you’re of no use to me if you have no information?”

“I gave you information. One thing we know for certain, the pirates aren’t on this planet.” My wide gray eyes slam shut in pain when he backhands me so hard my head slams to the side then ricochets to the front. A’Zul gets brownie points for acting as if Khour just took a swig of water.

“Crixtus!” Khour calls to one of his henchmen. The six males who pursued us through the woods have all removed their helmets. Am I hallucinating or are they walking cockroaches? Holy God. They’re so disgusting I have to control a shiver of revulsion and pretend they’re no uglier than their boss.

“Put these guests up in two of our finest suites, then report back to the bridge. I want to know why your intel indicated the pirates would be on this planet.”

I don’t know anything about this insectoid species, but I think I can surmise the emotion on Crixtus’s revolting face. He’s afraid. Of his boss. Scared shitless by the look of it.

We’re manhandled to adjoining barred cells. The bed is smaller than a twin mattress. In case A’Zul is too naive to figure out that we’re probably being surveilled, I give him a hint.

“Too bad these cells have bars and not walls. I'm sick of your face.”

The tiniest cloud of sorrow flits across his face at my harsh words. He walks to the bars on the opposite side of the cell, slides down them, and sits on the floor so he can look over at me. If we get out of here—when we get out of here, I correct myself—I’ll have to make it up to him.

I sit on the mattress, put my head in my hands, and think.

Khour is a psychopath, from what I was told he kills for sport. Even his lackeys are scared to death of him. That cockroach looked ready to crap his pants when his boss called him on the carpet. With no way out and nothing to give Khour, A’Zul and I definitely have short expiration dates.

As soon as Khour realizes I honestly don’t know where the pirates are, we’ll be useless to him. And it doesn’t sound like he lets people die easy, either. I have no desire to be flayed alive.

No weapons, nothing to barter with to buy our freedom. This might be the end of the line.

I take some slow measured breaths and bring my panicking-brain back into computer-brain mode. After parsing through our situation from every angle. I’ve got nothing.

Except A’Zul. If he could shift, he could do something. Especially if he shifted into his dragon form.

When we left the bridge, we were still in Kallion’s atmosphere. Not that I’m any expert on space travel, but I haven’t felt that funny jolt you feel when you leave atmo the way I felt when we left Rhoid.

The sense of urgency bombards