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“I don’t need that,” Zarifa said shortly, waving aside the offered ring. “Just give me the code for his controls.”
Casus frowned at her. “Freeworlds nanosystems like Mad Dog’s are too different from ours to access. You need a translator to control him.” He held out the ring again.
Zarifa grimaced but reluctantly accepted it. Slipping it on, she gestured at the ring the slaver wore. “Yours, too.”
Casus paled slightly, his gaze flickering to the shifter, who had come to feral attention. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“And I don’t want anyone else controlling my slave.” She gave him her father’s best silky smile. “Unless you’d rather cancel the transaction now…”
His expression sour, the slaver jerked the ring off his finger and handed it over.
Zafira tucked the ring into a jacket pocket and thought, Nanos, reencrypt and password Mad Dog’s system. I don’t want anybody accessing him but me.
Done, said the system’s chiming mental voice.
She relaxed. They wouldn’t be able to use him against her now.
“You’re going to need the maximum pain setting to control him.” Malice filled Casus’s eyes as he added, “Applied to his dick. That’s about all that makes an impression on him.”
“I’ll take that under advisement.” Apparently her icy displeasure showed; the slaver visibly flinched.
One of the cyborgs spoke in a basso rumble. “Mr. Casus, a delivery cart is here. It says it has something for Lady Selan.”
“It’s the armor I ordered,” Zarifa said. “Is there somewhere Mad Dog can change?”
Casus sniffed. “He’s already naked. It’s not as if he needs privacy.”
“But I do.” She stared coldly at the slaver until he dropped his gaze. “And I expect to get it. Any recording devices will be turned off.”
Casus dipped a low bow. “Of course, milady.”
The nanotium cuirass was a deep, rich crimson, accented with slashes of black. The armored greaves, gloves, and bracers were in the same color scheme, while the thigh plates and boots were black piped in red. Each piece gleamed under the overhead lights, though they could go dark and dull if needed for stealth.
Rance held his arms out as his new mistress fitted the chest plate around his
torso. “You know, I can put on my own armor.”
She gave him a faint smile and went on settling the cuirass into place. “I know. But you’re my man, and I want to be sure it’s properly fitted. If not, I want to be able to tell the armorer exactly what to change.”
My man. There was something faintly medieval in the way she said the phrase, like an ancient lord claiming responsibility for a vassal knight. Something about the words sent warmth expanding through his chest, and he frowned.
I’m not her “man,” he told himself fiercely. I’m getting the hell away from her as soon as I get the chance.
The traitor owed him a blood debt, and he was damned well going to collect.
The cuirass shifted to accommodate his width, then sealed with a soft hiss. Rance smoothed his hands over the slick, gleaming surface. If he knew combat armor—and he did—this was quite possibly the most expensive suit he’d ever worn. It seemed to weigh no more than a thin tunic and moved with him easily as he twisted his waist and swung his arms.
One thing was for sure; the lady wasn’t cheap.
He watched her lift the next section of the suit from its gleaming black case. She rose gracefully and fitted it over his biceps, her long fingers skilled and competent, as if she were no stranger to armor herself.
Rance mentally totaled the imperials she must have spent, between buying him and the armor. He frowned. “Just exactly how much danger are you in?”
Her pretty face went grim. “Enough.” She bent and picked up the right bracer. Rance fought not to focus on the curve of her ass. The last thing he needed right now was a hard-on. “There’s a very good armorer on this station,” she said in a blatant change of subject. “When Casus told me he had a shifter, I ordered this fabricated. The woman tells me it will change when you do, but you’ll want to test that. I don’t want any ugly surprises in the event of an ambush.”
A dozen questions crowded Rance’s tongue, but he kept his mouth shut. He needed to play the obedient slave until Lady Selan dropped her guard.
Though he hated to contemplate what he’d have to do to this pretty, delicate creature in order to make his escape. She wouldn’t want to let him go—and he couldn’t let himself be kept.
