Captive - Cheryl Brooks Page 0,21

was the first Zetithian male she’d ever encountered, which was more than enough to provide food for thought. But that didn’t explain what set him apart from any man she’d ever known.

Or perhaps it did. Her own mother had been smitten enough with Trag to risk everything for the chance to lay with him and bear his children. There was something fishy about that. Almost as if the mere presence of a Zetithian man was enough to coerce women into doing things counter to their own best interests, perhaps even their own survival. She and Moe were both half Zetithian, which might make her more susceptible to him than most. There again, she simply didn’t know.

Still, she’d looked at him the way a woman looks at a man to whom she is attracted. Sexually. Klara had never viewed a man in that light in her life. In fact, the feeling was so foreign to her, she was surprised she could even recognize it for what it was.

But if she was attracted to him, why did she want to bite him?

She’d also hissed at him—twice—which was something else she’d never done before.

Whatever the reason for her strange behavior, she needed to be rid of him before she did something incredibly stupid. Living by one’s wits meant steering clear of anything and everything that might rob her of them.

Right now, Moe Tshevnoe was at the top of that list.

The moment Moe realized he was awake, he took the time to assess his surroundings. First off, he wasn’t tied up. Second, he was still lying on the bed he’d gone to sleep in.

So far, so good.

Thirdly, he was alone in the room. He didn’t even need to open his eyes to know that. One sniff confirmed it.

The next test would be whether the door was locked. He got up and crossed the room to the door only to find that it wasn’t even latched.

He paused in the doorway, listening. Silence reverberated throughout the building. Had he been abandoned?

Nexbit was supposed to wake him for the next watch. It was still dark. Maybe it wasn’t as late as he thought. Returning to the command room, he saw nothing. Nothing, that is, beyond an overstuffed leather chair he hadn’t noticed before.

Fixing his gaze on the back of the chair, he saw the chair do something chairs rarely did. It blinked.

“Hey, Moe,” the chair said. “I was about to wake you.”

“Sure you were,” Moe scoffed, determined not to appear startled. “If I’m not mistaken, your eyes were closed when I first walked in here.”

The chair drew back in surprise. “Wow. You must have some super-good night vision to have seen that, although the boss can see pretty well in the dark too.”

“It’s a Zetithian thing,” Moe said with a shrug. “By the way, what would you have done if I’d sat on you?”

“Shoved you off, I suppose,” the chair said as it slowly began to change form. “That’s what I usually do whenever Temfilk tries it. Then again, if I wanted to remain hidden, I would’ve just let you sit there.”

“For how long?”

“Until I got tired of the extra weight, which probably would’ve taken until morning.” Nexbit’s arms appeared to sprout from the armrests as the bottom of the chair divided to form his legs. Once his neck was fully extended, he stood and yawned, stretching his arms above his head. “I’m quite patient on the whole.”

“Apparently.” While others had often remarked on his own seemingly endless patience, Moe doubted he could top that. But then, he couldn’t morph into a chair, either. “Now that I’m up, you might as well head off to bed. Pleasant dreams.”

“What?” Nexbit’s expression was as blank as only a Sympaticon’s could be, meaning his face flattened into a featureless mask with eyes. “Oh. Right. Forgot about that dreams thing. Sympaticons don’t dream.”

“I never knew that,” Moe said. “Sleep well, then.”

“Always do,” Nexbit said cheerfully. “No dreams to wake me up, and I usually give myself a larger bladder so I don’t have to get up during the night.”

“Must be nice,” Moe grumbled. While he had no reason to dislike his body’s permanent shape, the advantages of being a shifter were legion. For example, anytime a Sympaticon needed to reach something on a high shelf, they could simply make themselves taller. Too bad they seldom chose to make themselves more attractive. Although what was attractive to other species was possibly hideous to a Sympaticon.

“It is.” Waving a claw-like hand, Nexbit ambled