She did remind him a little of Lisa in appearance.
Lisa was an Earthling. But her eyes were a soft brown. This woman’s bore a bright amber glow that fascinated him.
Srul, everything about her fascinated him.
When he and his crew continued to stand there in what he hated to admit was dumbfounded silence, she arched a brow.
“Well, boys, are you friend or foe?” She spoke Earth English, but with an accent Lisa had lacked. “If you’re friend, I’m afraid I must take my leave of you. There are a few Gathendien bastards left I need to slay before I steal their ship. And if you’re foe…” She swung her swords in a showy display, then sent them a wicked smile. “Whose ass am I going to kick first?”
Every male but the leader raised a hand as if they were elementary school children hoping she’d pick them for her baseball team at recess. And all but one grinned big.
Simone would’ve laughed if she weren’t in so much pain.
Only six men faced her in the bay, far fewer than the Gathendiens had believed necessary when they’d forced her pod on board. Although none wore body armor, each male sported at least one weapon. They also all bore a build similar to humans: one head, two arms, and two legs. Two eyes, two ears, one nose, one mouth.
The leader was handsome as hell, with long raven hair drawn back from his face in cornrows. The rest tumbled down his back and over his shoulders in thick waves intermingled with tight braids adorned with beads. His skin was tan with a reddish hue that almost resembled a sunburn. Long eyelashes surrounded auburn eyes. A closely cropped mustache hovered above full lips while a short beard adorned his strong jaw. He wore a loose shirt that hinted at a nicely developed chest with tight breeches that hugged muscled thighs.
When taken all together, it lent him a piratical look that was every bit as appealing as Jack Sparrow’s.
One of the men behind him was huge, easily seven feet tall. Built like the Hulk, he had gray skin imbued with a turquoise hue and eyes so dark she couldn’t distinguish the pupils from the irises. Was he part Yona? He wore his dark hair in a buzz like the Yona warriors. But he’d cut intricate patterns into the short hair on the sides of his head, something she’d never seen a Yona do. And, like the others, he was smiling. So unlike Yona, he could feel emotion.
The two men beside him both possessed a somewhat feline look. Their noses were a bit flatter and wider. Both had long, thick hair that boasted multiple earth tones. And their tawny irises took up more of the white than a human’s eyes. Black tattoos or markings that resembled a tiger’s stripes covered the face and arms of one. Very cool. The other bore scars in all the places the first had markings. And there was something else that differentiated him from the first: a darkness in his eyes and a somber mien as if he had seen far too much of life and hadn’t escaped intact.
Simone could relate.
A fifth male looked Lasaran, lending her hope that she wouldn’t have to kick these guys’ asses. She had wrought havoc on the Gathendiens’ ship, killing most of the soldiers on board. But she had taken many hits in the process and fought a constant onslaught of pain and weakness, not that she showed it.
The last member of the group studied her from a distance, standing behind a row of consoles, no doubt ready to unleash a hail of fire or do whatever they usually did when an enemy infiltrated their bay. That one bore a close enough resemblance to the leader to make her think they were related, although the second lacked the mustache and beard and boasted a slimmer build.
When the men continued to hold their hands in the air, eager to see whom she’d pick, she met the leader’s gaze and arched a brow.
He glanced over his shoulder, then released a long-suffering sigh. “She said if you’re foe, whose ass was she going to kick next. Foe. Not friend. Put your drekking hands down.”
They lowered their hands, their smiles transforming into looks of disappointment.
This time Simone didn’t quite manage to keep her lips from twitching.
The leader smiled. “I’m Janwar, commander of the Tangata. Welcome aboard. The fact that you’re an Earthling makes us your friends.”
She snorted. “You’re going to have to do better than that. The Gathendiens liked that I’m an Earthling, too, and they were not my friends.”
“You mean the dead Gathendiens who litter the ship floating quietly off our bow?”
“That would be them, yes.”
“Care to tell me how they died?”
She offered a nonchalant shrug, careful not to wince when it tugged at some of her wounds. “It’s a sad tale, I’m afraid. The clumsy bastards kept falling upon my swords.”
He laughed heartily over that, flashing straight white teeth as creases appeared at the corners of his eyes. Most of the others laughed, too. Even the scarred one cracked a smile.
“I would’ve loved to see that,” Janwar murmured with a shake of his head. “And I understand your hesitance to trust. Would an endorsement from Prince Taelon of Lasara and his lifemate, Lisa, lend our claim of friendship more credibility?”
Her heart leapt as her hands tightened on the hilts of her swords.
“Don’t forget Abby,” the big one rumbled. “Abby likes us, too.”
“Lisa is here?” Simone tried not to let hope show in case it was a ruse. “And Abby?”
Janwar shook his head. “We already conveyed the royal family safely to Lasara, then returned at Prince Taelon’s request to search for her friends and other survivors of the Kandovar.” He motioned to her. “To search for you.”
Bitter disappointment eradicated hope. “Such a journey would have taken many months without the benefit of the qhov’rum.” Not less than two. And Evie had told her the qhov’rum had likely been damaged in the blast.
Nothing in Janwar’s body language revealed that she’d caught him in a lie. He merely sent her a cocky smile and motioned to the large bay around them. “Not if one has the pleasure of commanding the fastest ship in the galaxy.”
The men behind him all nodded, pride glinting in their eyes.
She narrowed hers. Her telepathic gift offered no help in discerning their motives. All it conveyed was a slew of alien gibberish because the little earpiece she wore only translated spoken words, not thoughts. Were she at full strength, she could simply employ her empathic gift and read his emotions from a safe distance, determining sincerity or deceit. But fatigue pulled at her. Pain riddled every limb. And she desperately needed blood.
She glanced at the man who looked human. “Are you Lasaran?” If so, he must sport a rebellious nature because his shirt left his arms bare.
He shook his head. “Segonian.”
Like Lasarans, Segonians were members of the Aldebarian Alliance. And she’d learned on the Kandovar that their blood was safe for Immortal Guardians to infuse themselves with.
As for the rest of them…
She returned her gaze to the commander. “And you are?”
“Akseli.”
Merde. Akselis were not members of the Aldebarian Alliance and—from everything she’d heard—were deceptive assholes governed by greed.
His look turned wry. “I see you’ve heard of my people.”
Yep. She was pretty sure her lip had curled with disgust.