“Exactly,” he snapped. Usually, he felt pride when hearing about his father, the Great Scodr, who once had a fleet of fine ships and led an army of free men, submissive to no law but his own. Now, irritation grew in his chest. “We can’t be like my father. We only have one female. If I let you have her, we’d have none at all.”
He didn’t pause to listen to their objections, heading down the corridor and away from the humans’ ship.
Vrateus was striding his way.
“How is she?” the captain asked quickly, passing him by.
“Good.”
Vrateus nodded, disappearing into the opening of the humans’ spaceship.
Wyck pressed his hand to the pocket with Nadia’s knife. He was not surrendering the weapon. He sensed he needed it more than Vrateus did.
WYCK
He took Lesh with him to the mess hall. The mahdi needed some food, too, and with the female in his care, Wyck now had twice the responsibilities.
Once there, Wyck quickly grabbed a few of the hard, round disks Svetlana called cookies, and stuffed them in his vest pockets, promptly leaving the room right after. There was always someone mingling in the mess hall, and he had no desire to answer any question about the new female or to ward off any more mocking comments.
Out in the corridor, he fed three of the cookies to Lesh, and popped one in his mouth. The sweetness of the pollen sugar covered his tongue with every bite, reminding him of Nadia once again.
The wound in his side ached, bringing to mind the image of her fighting him in the corridor. He remembered her fear-filled eyes. The horror and desperation in them reminded him of the look Lesh had when he’d found him. The mahdi would’ve died had Wyck left him behind nine years ago.
Nadia wouldn’t last long, either, if he allowed Nocc to have his way with her.
“Show the boy how to fuck.”
Nocc’s words followed him.
In all honesty, he would’ve wanted to see that. Even more so, he would’ve liked to do that to her himself. Nadia’s sweet, tantalizing scent seemed to have soaked his lungs and permeated his clothes. Even with her no longer around, the mere memory of her scent teased his cocks like a stroke of a hand... Her hand.
He knew that Vrateus and Malahki added something to the soap on the Dark Anomaly that neutralized their scent, making them practically undetectable to errocks’ acute sense of smell.
Before reaching Nadia’s room, he made a sharp turn toward the closest storage, instead. He needed that soap for Nadia so she could wash off her tormenting scent.
The door to the storage room was open. He poked his head in to find Svetlana rummaging through one of the boxes on the shelf unit by the wall.
He cursed under his breath. He didn’t expect to find her here, though it made sense that he would—they all used the same supplies stored in the same rooms.
Her shoulders jerked, and she stilled for a moment before turning to face him, laser gun raised in her hand.
“Oh, hi Wyck.” Her voice was friendly enough, though she didn’t put away the gun at seeing him. In fact, she adjusted her aim, pointing it straight at his head. “Looking for something?”
“Soap.”
“Here.” She stepped aside, gesturing at the box she’d just taken two soap bars from herself. “All yours.”
She slid closer to the door, waiting for him to move so she could exit.
A whiff of her scent reached him. From this distance, even her daily showers didn’t mask it completely. In addition, Wyck could clearly smell Vrateus’s most recent kisses on the skin of her neck. The two scents mingled in an alluring, enigmatic combination, stirring tantalizing reactions inside him.
He hated having his cocks twitch in response to Svetlana. The fact that he had no control over it left him feeling powerless. He reached deep inside his emotions, searching under the thick layer of arousal for the resentment he had been breeding and cultivating toward Svetlana ever since she’d murdered Crux, the man who had been his father figure.
According to the customs of his family, the murder of one’s father could only be avenged by the death of the killer. Crux might’ve been only his adoptive father, but he’d taught Wyck everything he knew.
Svetlana deserved to die, by his hand.
He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t done what the family honor demanded of him. Vrateus trusted him enough to have him guard Svetlana on occasion. Sure, Svetlana