Claimed by Cipher - Lolita Lopez Page 0,36

tore it open along the perforated edges. It unfolded like a blossoming flower, draping the tray with bright blue cloths and exposing a set of medical tools. “This looks like it will be painful, but I promise it’s nothing more than a pinch.”

“What kind of a pinch?” She shifted away from the tray and eyed the menacing tools. “Because Gertie Bluestone pinched me one time at a summer picnic and gave me a bruise bigger than a plum.”

“Not that kind of pinch,” Risk promised. He held out his hand for the card, and she gave it to him. He made quick work of removing the chip from the sealed card, loading it into a syringe and cleaning her wrist with a small wipe that left her skin feeling numb. “Okay. On three,” he said, holding the syringe above her skin. “One. Two.”

She scowled at him as he pushed the needle into her skin before three. Grudgingly, she admitted he was right. It was only a tiny pinch, and it was done.

“Okay?” Cipher asked, rubbing her back as he stood at her other side and held her hand.

“Yes.” She smiled up at him. Her stomach growled, and both men laughed. “Sorry.”

“Your breakfast tray should be here soon. You’ll have to hit the mess hall,” Risk told Cipher. “We’ll keep an eye on her for you.”

Cipher seemed hesitant to leave her. She intertwined their fingers. “I’ll be fine. You should go eat. If you need to work, I’ll be okay here.”

Reluctantly, he admitted, “I need to debrief again and meet up with Raze. I’ve also got to meet with logistics to get our new quarters sorted.”

“Go,” she urged. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

He wavered but finally nodded. After a quick kiss, he trailed Risk out of the room. Not long after both men were gone, another medic knocked and entered the room with a breakfast tray in hand. “Good morning, ma’am. I’m Chance. I’m one of the medics who will be treating you today.”

“Good morning, Chance.”

He placed the tray on the rolling table next to the bed. “Do you need help with anything?”

“No, I—”

The clatter of metal interrupted her. A second later, a man erupted in anger and shouted, “Fuck off, Risk. And you, too, Vee. Get the fuck out. Go. GO! And take your fucking sedatives with you.”

The crash of shattering glass startled Brook. She stared wide-eyed at her open door and then glanced at Chance who had taken a protective position in front of her bed, putting himself between her and any danger. There was more bellowing, this time from a deep and even angrier voice, and then another clang of metal. A door slammed, and she jumped, fisting the sheets in her hands as she waited for something else to happen.

When it stayed silent, Chance relaxed and turned back to her. Apologetically, he said, “I’m sorry, ma’am. There’s a patient on the floor who isn’t feeling so well. He’s a bit difficult. You’re safe, though. He wouldn’t hurt you, not after what you—" He stopped suddenly as if realizing he had said too much.

“Is it the man from the mine? Terror?” she asked softly.

Chance glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were still alone. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Can I visit him later?” She wanted to apologize for leaving him behind.

Chance furiously shook his head. “No, ma’am. You absolutely cannot leave this room. You’re a new bride, and there are men on this ship who will try to steal you away from Cipher.”

“What do you mean? Anyone can steal me?”

“Until you’re in a permanent collar? Yes.”

She scooted back on the bed, eying him warily, and he held up a hand. “I’m not going to steal you, ma’am. I have a mate waiting for me back on Prime. Our parents arranged it.”

“That’s a thing?” she asked, curious about this new culture.

“For those of who have pure bloodlines, yes.”

“What’s a pure bloodline?”

“You know the men you see around here with pale hair? Almost white?” He gestured to his own head. “This is what our ancestors on Prime looked like. Some of us belong to very old families that took mates only from Prime, not from any of the new planets we conquered. It used to matter,” he explained, “but the old ways are dying out and only the older generations care about that kind of thing now.”

“Like your parents?”

“Like my parents,” he echoed. “But, thankfully, my chosen mate is a girl I’ve known most of my life.” He tapped the face

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