Starflight (Starflight, #1)(40)

Of course it was. For criminals, they sure had a lot of laws.

“Try it on,” he said with an encouraging nod.

“No, that’s all right.” She couldn’t pinpoint the reason, but something about this felt wrong. “I meant it when I said I’m not looking to join—”

“A bargain, then,” he interrupted. “If you put on that necklace and give me the pleasure of seeing you in it, I won’t ask you to take it off.”

She cast a sideways glance at him. “It’d be mine to keep?”

“For life.”

Part of her bristled at the offer, but a much larger part was already calculating how many years of rations it would buy. She brushed a thumb over the warm gold, more enticed than she wanted to admit. This necklace could be her ticket to a comfortable new life.

“All right,” she decided, and lifted the gold to her throat.

As soon as she fastened the clasp, a grin broke out on Demarkus’s face, so full of cunning that the hairs on her forearm stood on end. It was then that she noticed a second, identical choker around his neck.

“You wear it well, little bird,” he said, lips stretched wide over his teeth. “Welcome to the family.”





Twenty-nine minutes and thirty-seven seconds.

She should be here by now.

Doran stretched his spine and peered across the hangar for Solara, but the only sign of life was the pirate who’d delivered the propellant cell twenty minutes ago. The guy was bald and had a second pair of eyes tattooed on his dome, and at the moment, he was leaning against a metal door, sucking on a synthetic cigar. His biceps were bigger than his head.

Doran shifted in his seat. Maybe he should wait five more minutes.

But then he remembered the feel of Solara’s trembling hand, and he knew he’d already waited for her too long. If she was brave enough to barter with pirates, the least he could do was check on her. A few deep breaths later, he exited the shuttle and approached the guard, who he’d secretly nicknamed Four-Eyes.

“No refunds,” Four-Eyes said, the cigar bouncing between his lips.

Doran tucked both hands in his pockets and faked a yawn. “I’m here for Lara. She wandered off half an hour ago.”

The man shook his head. “She’s dining with the chief. You’ll have to—”

A riotous cheer from inside the ship interrupted him, so loud that the metal floor hummed beneath their boots. Four-Eyes touched an earpiece to communicate with someone out of sight, and then his mouth curved into a smile so wide he nearly dropped his cigar.

“Well, I’ll be a piss swiller,” the man said to himself. “The chief took a bride!”

“Just now?” Doran asked. He didn’t give a damn about the chief’s love life, but he sensed an opportunity to get inside the ship. “Then let’s go toast the poor bastard!” Behind his hand, he added, “There’s not enough ore on Mars to put a ring on my finger.”

“You and me both, my friend.”

Apparently, confirmed bachelorhood was all it took to unite them as brothers. Four-Eyes slung his weapon over his back and opened the sliding metal door. Then he hooked an arm around Doran’s neck and led him to the source of the festivities, a great room at the heart of the ship. The sight of a thousand bodies stopped Doran short.

He nudged his new friend and shouted, “Where’s your chief?”

Four-Eyes pointed above a sea of heads to a stage at the center of the room, where Solara stood beside a hulking Goliath twice her height. Doran had to do a double take. He’d never seen a human being so large, not even last summer during Super Bowl Camp. It was no wonder the pirates had made Demarkus their chief; he could crush a man with a pinch of his fingers. Solara looked like a child beside him, hugging herself tightly with both arms, her blackened eyes round and unblinking.

But the two of them stood alone onstage. Where was the bride?

Mugs of ale started circulating, handed down the tables until Four-Eyes snagged one for himself and handed another to Doran. After they each took a gulp, Four-Eyes lifted his mug toward the stage. “A bit young and slight, that one. Not his usual type.” He cupped a hand in front of his chest as if balancing a cantaloupe. “He tends to favor bigger ladies, if you know what I mean.”

Doran inhaled his ale, then coughed so hard he almost expelled both lungs. He wrenched his gaze to the stage and paid attention this time, noticing the way Demarkus showcased Solara like a prize he’d won at the fair. She fingered a golden necklace at her throat, which certainly wasn’t there half an hour ago. But nothing in her watery eyes led him to believe she’d chosen this union willingly.

“That’s my crewmate,” Doran shouted.

Four-Eyes laughed. “Not anymore.”

“But I know her,” he said. “She would never consent to this.”

The din of the crowd had died down enough for a few men to overhear. One of them cocked a warning brow and said, “The girl wears his token. She put it on of her own free will, in front of witnesses.”

“A token?” Doran asked. “That’s what passes for a wedding with you people? She probably didn’t understand what she was doing.”

The man shrugged. “Ignorance of our law is no defense. They’re wed.”

“Okay, so they’re wed,” Doran said. “How do we undo it?”