Owned by Luna Voss

7

Melyta

The men who attacked me are lying on the ground in a heap. One of them starts to get up, and our car jerks immediately into reverse, backing up over him and one of his companions with a pair of awful thuds.

Then the driver slams his foot on the accelerator and we peel off. Behind us, the taxi begins to give chase. I glance at my rescuer in the seat next to me, but he doesn’t look back, just keeps his eyes fixed on the road. He wears a leather jacket and his identity is hidden behind a sleek black face mask.

“I… thank you,” I gasp, looking over my shoulder at the taxi. “You, uh, see that they’re right behind us, right?”

The driver doesn’t answer me. “Seatbelt,” is all he grunts.

I blink before realizing he’s telling me to buckle up. I do. A split second later he turns sharply to the left, and I realize that if I hadn’t obeyed him, I would have been thrown out of my seat.

“Thanks for the tip,” I try weakly.

Again, no answer. My rescuer is quite stoic, it seems. I suppose I should probably try not to distract him. The taxi is still behind us.

All I can do is watch, my heart pounding, as the other vehicle gains speed. Thankfully, the traffic is limited at this time of night, but I still hear other cars jamming their horns as we speed through the city streets. The driver next to me clearly knows what he’s doing, although it would’ve been nice if he’d thought to bring a hover vehicle. Thankfully, the taxi is on wheels, too.

My stomach lurches as we go over a slight hill, catching air for a brief moment. We’re going fast. Probably faster than I’ve ever gone before, considering I mostly just ride the bus. And the taxi is holding its own. I didn’t realize they could go that fast. Maybe this one’s been modified.

I notice that we’re driving in the direction of the downtown, and this makes sense to me. I can’t imagine anyone would be stupid enough to get into a high-speed chase in the heart of the city. There’s no time of night, no matter how late, that downtown Dalax isn’t full of people. People, and police.

There’s a flash in the night from the car behind us, and then another. Something scorches across the back of our vehicle, just below the rear windshield.

“They’re shooting at us!” I yell, ducking my head as low as I can.

“Not for long,” the driver replies, and our car continues picking up speed. Soon the traffic increases, and the shooting stops as we near the downtown area. We start to weave in and out of other cars, and that’s when I realize the real advantage of our nondescript black vehicle: I can see at least five other cars around us that look exactly like it. We blend in perfectly.

Traffic slows down as we near the city, and our car switches lanes into the on-ramp for the highway. I lose sight of the taxi, and have a minor freakout as I think I see it right behind us, but turns out it’s another cab entirely.

“Where is it?” I ask frantically, scanning all around us. “I don’t see him.”

“To our left,” says the driver, his gaze not leaving the road in front of him. “Don’t look. Eyes straight ahead.”

I do my best to comply, even as I notice that we’re starting to keep pace with the taxi in the left lane. The driver next to me rolls down his window, still staring ahead at the road as though mildly bored.

“Hey, buddy!”

He calls through the open window, waving at the taxi next to him. The cab driver turns, that same cruel face I recognize from the restaurant, and then I scream as my rescuer blows a hole through his head with a gun I didn’t even realize he was holding. All around us, cars honk and screech, and we slip up the ramp and onto the highway, leaving the pandemonium behind us.

We’ve escaped.

I sit in silence as we drive down the highway together, the lights of other cars streaking on the rainy windshield. My heart is still pounding. I feel like I just sprinted a mile.

The driver doesn’t say anything. Following his lead, neither do I. I’m content just to exist for now, feeling relief wash over me that I didn’t just get kidnapped or worse.

Of course, that’s assuming that I’m safe in my current situation. Which I wouldn’t think to be a crazy assumption, considering I was just rescued. But still, I’m full of questions.

“Were those… were those Vostra members?” I ask in a small voice, gathering my courage.

The driver nods.

“What were they trying to do to me?”

He glances at me, then back at the road. He doesn’t answer.

“Am I going to be able to go back to my apartment?”

A pause. Then he shakes his head, still looking at the road.

Now I’m starting to get annoyed. “What, do you think you’re in a movie or something? How about we drop too-cool-for-words act and talk to each other like adults? It’s not like I’m going anywhere. I’ve got all night.”

His head twitches, and I could swear that he’s suppressing a laugh under his mask. Or maybe I’m just hoping, desperate for my savior to not be as grim and boringly stoic as he appears.

“You can’t go back to your apartment,” he says finally, his voice low. “They’ll be looking for you.”

“Who will?”

He doesn’t answer.

“You know, this is my life,” I say, trying and failing to keep the frustration out of my voice. “I’m very grateful to you for saving me, but I think I have a right to know what the fuck is going on and who is after me and why.”

“You already know. You said it. The Vostra.”

“And why would they be going after me?”

“I think you know.”

Unfortunately, he’s right. I know exactly why they went after me.

“Is it… Gurt?” I try, recalling the name from earlier. “Is he the one behind this?”

Our car swerves off the freeway and screeches to a stop. “Don’t say that name,” the masked man hisses. “Don’t say any name. You know nothing.”

“But I—”

“You know nothing,” he repeats emphatically. “The more you know, the more danger you’re in.”

Huh. For all his gruffness, this stranger definitely seems to care about my safety. What the hell is going on?

“Well, if I’m not going back to my apartment, where am I going?” I ask, watching nervously as cars pass by us.

No answer. I open my mouth to repeat the question with more urgency, when my rescuer holds up a hand.

“Please,” he says, “I need to think.”

This is the first inkling this man has given me that he doesn’t completely, 100% have a handle on this situation. And I don’t know whether I find that comforting, or disconcerting. I still don’t have a clue who he is, or what I am to him. Or what his relationship to those Vostra gangsters is.

I decide friendliness is the best path. “Okay,” I say, “thinking is good. My name is Melyta, by the way. What’s your name?”

He gives me what I imagine would be a withering look if I could see his face. “No more questions. I have to make a call.”

He pulls a communicator from his pocket and puts it to his ear. “Hey. Yeah, it’s me. I… need you to bring me a ride. And dispose of my old one. Yeah, tonight. Thanks. As soon as possible. Doesn’t need to be a fast car, just needs to drive.”

I watch, fascinated, wishing I could hear the other side of the conversation.

“Appreciate it. I’ll explain later. Meet you at that empty lot on 31st?”

He hangs up, then merges back onto the freeway.

“Who was that?” I ask.

All he does is grunt.

“Look, are we really—”

“I thought I said no more questions.”

“Well, that’s easy for you to say. I’m the one who just got chased out of my apartment, shot at, and nearly—”

“We both got shot at. And I’m the one who stuck my neck out to rescue you. No more questions. Trust me, it’s safer—”

“How about you let me be the judge of what’s safe?” I practically shout, my frustration boiling over, “instead of being such a pompous asshole about it?”

He says nothing for a long moment, and I have the distinct feeling I’ve gone too far. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, measured, and calm.

“If you were my mate, I would spank your bottom soundly for speaking to me like that.”

That stops me in my tracks. Okay, then. Damn. Despite the situation, something about him making that calm declaration in his low, gravelly voice kind ofturns me on. And why the hell is he talking about me being his mate?

“It’s a good thing I’m not your mate, then,” I snap, the banter flowing out of me naturally, “or that might actually matter.”

He straightens up in his seat, and I feel myself shrinking as he leans closer to me.

“You may not be my mate,” he whispers, and a shiver runs through me at his words, “but in my car, we follow my rules. Talk to me like that again, and I’ll have you over my knee.”

My cheeks burn, and I’m glad the lighting in the car is dim. Subconsciously, I feel myself squeezing my thighs together, wanting to increase the pressure on my clit, which is suddenly tingling. I don’t say another word as we drive to the parking lot on 31st Street.

* * *

Barion

Melyta and I wait in silence for Korva to arrive. Neither of us have said a word to each other since we parked here in the empty lot. I guess she finally got the memo that I’m not in the mood to talk.

My emotions are storming, swirling around in my head, a mess of confusion. Seeing her again is harder than I expected. So is hearing her voice. I don’t want to take my mask off and let her see who I am. The sooner this whole incident is behind me, the better.

She stiffens as a car turns into the lot and parks next to us. I barely react. I know that it’s Korva, and I’m relieved that he’s here.

It’s one step closer to Melyta not being my problem anymore.

“Come on,” I growl, opening the front door and stepping out into the dark, rainy night. “We’re changing cars.”

She does as I say without a word, rummaging in her backpack for a hooded jacket before exiting the vehicle.

Korva steps out of the car next to us and pats the hood. “She’s all yours. I hope that—”

And then his eyes land on Melyta, and he freezes. I see him taking in the situation and understanding it all at once. He turns back to me and makes eye contact, his eyebrows raised.

“Fuck. Really?”

“Yeah, really. I’m taking her off-planet.”

Korva shakes his head. “And when did you become a white fucking knight?”

I shrug. I’m not about to explain myself. “It’s my problem. Just get rid of the car.”

“Are those scorch marks on the back from a plasma weapon?”

“Just get rid of it.”

He sighs. “Fine. Have it your way. But you’d better get her off the fucking planet.”