Thrasher: Science Fiction Romance (Enigma Series Book 9) Page 6

  Kaspyn decided she liked Oz. It was no doubt his Bracadyte blood that swayed her in his favor, she told herself, flicking a glance at Thrasher to find him watching her with an unguarded look. Was that lust she saw swimming in his sky-blue eyes?

  Her stomach flipped.

  Thrasher looked away, shifting his attention to Oz, who was still speaking. “Enough about that for now. We’ll keep our eyes and ears open at all times, and no one leaves the area alone. On an up note, I had some food prepared and delivered to the clubhouse. I hope everyone likes pasta.”

  Kaspyn had never heard of pasta, but she was willing to eat just about anything at the moment. Her stomach had been growling since she’d arrived at Playa Pilar.

  Everyone began to disburse up the stairs and out into the night air.

  Thrasher strode up next to Kaspyn, his hands in the pockets of his black pants. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier about your attire.”

  Kaspyn couldn’t believe he actually apologized. She knew it had to have cost him dearly to utter those words. “There is nothing to apologize for. It was merely your opinion. It meant nothing.”

  “It wasn’t my opinion.”

  She couldn’t have heard him right. “Then why did you say it?”

  “Look,” he began, taking hold of her arm, and tugging her to a stop. “The damn makeup looks good on you, okay? Better than good. You’re probably the most beautiful woman I’ve ever—I mean—Shit,” he finished with a sigh. “I’m not very good at this sort of thing.”

  Kaspyn could only stare, slack mouthed. Not only had he just told her she was beautiful, but he’d called her a woman. Not a female, not a girl, not a princess or a Bracadyte, but a woman.

  Unsure of how to respond, Kaspyn nodded and turned to go.

  “So, that’s it?” Thrasher bit out. “I try to apologize and you brush me off like an insignificant gnat?”

  She didn’t understand half of what he’d just said.

  He suddenly curled his lip and sauntered off, leaving her to stare at his retreating back.

  Kaspyn entered the building Oz had referred to as the clubhouse, her gaze seeking out the brooding Thrasher.

  She found him standing next to a table, holding a plate in his hand and scooping up what looked to be worms onto its surface. “You humans consume the strangest shits.”

  He glanced up at her. “Shit doesn’t always mean things, Kaspyn. Only in certain sentences.”

  “Elaborate, please.”

  He finished piling the worms onto his plate and covered them with a red substance. “Okay. For instance, you could say, I have things to do or I have shit to do. Same meaning. But what sort of things are on my plate would not be the same as what sort of shits would be on my plate.”

  Shaking her head, Kaspyn moved closer to the table. “Not only do you eat strange food, but you speak a strange language as well.”

  “It’s called slang. Try the spaghetti. I think you’ll like it.”

  “Spaghetti? It appears to be worms.”

  He barked out a laugh. “I reckon it does. But I assure you, it’s not worms. It’s pasta noodles. Here, I’ll make you a plate.”

  Setting his own food aside, Thrasher picked up a plate and piled some noodles onto it before covering it with the red substance. He handed it to her along with a fork. “Try it.”

  Kaspyn attempted to stab the noodles with the fork with little success.

  “Not like that,” he gently scolded, taking the fork from her fingers and twirling it through the noodles. He then lifted it to her mouth. “Open.”

  The softly spoken word seemed more of a caress than a command.

  Kaspyn opened her mouth, accepting the offering. She closed her lips around the fork and her eyes nearly rolled back in her head as the flavor suddenly burst across her tongue.

  Swallowing, she stared into Thrasher’s sky-blue eyes. “I have never tasted anything like it before.”

  He lowered the fork and twirled it through the pasta once more. “Wait until you try the cheesecake.”

  She opened her mouth again, allowing him to place another bite of the incredible tasting food onto her tongue.

  “If you two are done making out,” Oz teased, snatching up a plate of his own. “The rest of us are waiting to eat.”

  Though Kaspyn didn’t understand the meaning of making out, she backed up to allow the others to reach the table.

  Thrasher handed her the fork and moved to the opposite side of the room to finish his meal.

  Brant moved up to the table, offering Kaspyn a friendly smile. “He’s really not that bad, you know.”

  Kaspyn took another bite of the delicious spaghetti. “Whom do you refer?”

  “Thrasher.”

  “I do not care what he is. He is a land walker to me. As are you.”

  Brant chuckled. “So you say. The only difference in humans and Bracadytes are fangs and barbs. Other than that, we all bleed red.”

  Kaspyn had heard enough. “Perhaps I should cut you and find out.”

  Shaking his head, Brant continued to go about his business of making his plate.

  It was Gryke’s turn to barrel his way up to the table. He met Kaspyn’s gaze and curled his lip in anger. “I understand the disdain you hold for the land walkers. I have a certain resentment for them myself. But not all humans are the same, just as all Bracadytes differ to some degree. The humans that are here with us now, are here to help us. They risk their lives for us by simply being here. You would do well to remember that.”

  “You are mated to a land walker,” Kaspyn pointed out. “Does it not concern you that by breeding with the humans, you are diluting the Bracadyte bloodlines? That one day we will no longer exist?”

  Gryke paused in piling spaghetti on his plate. “We will always exist, Kaspyn. No matter who we choose to breed with. Mixing our blood with another does not change who we are inside. It might alter the DNA of our future offspring, but it does not make them less than.”

  Kaspyn let Gryke’s words sink in. Was she being too critical of the land walkers?

  Her gaze shifted to Thrasher where he stood along the wall. If she were honest with herself, she would admit to noticing a certain strength and intelligence in the human. He obviously cared about what happened to the Bracadytes or he wouldn’t be there. He’d even gone as far as blood bonding with them.

  He suddenly lifted his head and met her gaze. Kaspyn’s stomach fluttered.

  Why did he affect her in such a way?

  She slowly lowered her fork and set her plate down onto the edge of the table. It wouldn’t do any harm to go over and talk to him.

  “May I have everyone’s attention?”

  Oz’s voice caught Kaspyn off guard, stopping her from going to Thrasher’s side. She turned her attention on their host, grateful he’d interrupted her intensions when he did.

  “I want everyone to understand that I have this part of the island surrounded,” Oz announced. “There are men in the trees keeping watch day and night. As Thrasher pointed out, I have a traitor in my midst. And until that man is located, we all need to watch our backs. I can monitor what goes on around here from my home. I have cameras everywhere. But as Gryke and Tony have already witnessed, that’s no guarantee we won’t be ambushed.”

  Swiveling his head around, Oz made eye contact with everyone in the room. “I think Thrasher is right in that Kerik won’t attack until you have all boarded the boat to leave. Now, with that being said, I’m going to call a meeting with two of my men, and tell them that you have been in contact with Klause. I will also inform them that Klause is giving you one week to locate Howell. If he isn’t found in that time frame, you are to return to Aukrabah at once. No one besides the people in the room will know the truth of our plan.”

  Everyone nodded or murmured their consent. Kaspyn included.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Thrasher stared at Kaspyn’s profile as she listened intently to Oz’s speech. God, but she was beautiful.


  She suddenly leaned over and spoke something quietly to Zyen, who had sidled up next to her, before making her way toward the door.

  Pushing away from the wall, Thrasher dropped his now empty plate into a trash can and followed her outside.

  He found her standing at the water’s edge, the moonlight reflecting off her cotton white hair.

  “You are following me?” she asked before he reached her side.

  It surprised Thrasher that she’d sensed his presence over the crashing of the waves and the smell of The Gulf.

  “Do you want me to leave?” He would if she said yes.

  She shook her head, her gaze still glued to The Gulf. “Your water is different from ours.”

  Thrasher stopped next to her, the faint scent of her perfume tickling his nose. Perfume? “How so?”

  “For one, it is warmer, paler in color, and supports different life forms than ours does back home. Yet, it still nourishes me and allows me to swim freely and unharmed.”

  Though curious as to what she was getting at, he decided to remain quiet, not wanting to interrupt her reflecting.

  She clasped her hands in front of her. “I wonder if,” she waved her hands between them, “humans and Bracadytes are in some ways similar to the waters. Oceans, seas, and gulfs all have different temperatures, different life forms that dwell within, and yet they all connect somewhere.”

  She finally looked at him. “I do not know how to be anything other than what I am. I was taught from birth to hate the land walker. And yet…”

  “Yet what?” Thrasher prompted, studying the confusion glittering in her eyes.

  Kaspyn took a deep breath, returning her gaze to the water. “It does not matter.”

  “It matters to me,” he persisted, reaching out to touch her hand.

  She didn’t pull away. “I do not hate you, Thrasher. Nor do I hate the tiny human female who painted this ridiculous color on my face.” She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth as if to remove her lipstick.

  Thrasher hesitantly closed his fingers around hers.

  Common sense told him to walk away, to leave her to her reflecting before he did something he had no business doing, like kissing her. She was the daughter of a king. And not just any king, but a king that had taught his people to hate land walkers. “I’m glad you don’t hate me, Kaspyn.”

  She continued to stare out over The Gulf, but her fingers slightly moved, allowing him a firmer hold on her hand. “My father would be displeased with me in this moment. He harbors a great resentment for your kind, Thrasher. And I cannot fault him for that.”

  Her head finally turned back in his direction. “But I am not my father, and you are not responsible for the humans that came before you.”

  Thrasher’s heart began to pound. “I wish the whole world could admit that to themselves. So many hold others accountable for the sins of their fathers. It’s everywhere. Bigotry, racism, discrimination, sexism. No one should be blamed for things they had no part in.”

  “How does one stop it?” she whispered, searching his eyes.

  Thrasher tugged on her hand, prompting her to turn toward him. “The first step is admitting that you might be wrong, admitting that what happened in the generations before you holds no power over who you are or who you want to be. And then be what you want to see in the world. Take the first step in undoing what has been done in the past.”

  “It is not so easily done. My father—“

  “Will love you regardless,” Thrasher assured her, effectively cutting off her whispered words.

  She stared into his eyes for long moments. “How is it that you know so much about this?”

  Thrasher stiffened, not wanting to discuss his own sordid past. “I have my reasons.”

  “I gave a little of myself to you,” she pressed, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “Can you not give back even a little?”

  The muscles in Thrasher’s jaws tightened to the point he had a difficult time responding. “It’s not easy for me to talk about my past. I had a shit childhood.”

  “Is this one of those instances where shit is used in a different context?”

  Thrasher would have smiled if not for the images of his father’s fists flashing through his mind.

  And then the unthinkable happened. One moment Kaspyn was holding onto his hand, and the next, she’d stepped in close and had her palms on either side of his head before he realized her intent.

  A soft gasp escaped her and her fingers tightened against his temples.

  Thrasher moved to step back, but she only followed, gripping him with the strength of a Bracadyte.

  He suddenly broke free of her hold, furious that she’d sifted through his memories without his consent. And he knew she’d been in his mind, he’d felt her there as surely as he’d felt her touch on his skin. “Don’t ever do that again.” He strode off before she could respond.

  Bypassing his bungalow, Thrasher trailed off down the beach, hoping to walk off his anger. Just because you had the ability to sift through someone’s thoughts, didn’t mean that you should. She’d violated his privacy, slipped around in places he’d have never allowed her to go.

  Thrasher wasn’t sure how long he walked before he stopped near a fallen palm tree and lowered his weight onto the sand.

  He glanced to his left, wondering how far away Kerik and his men were from his position. How easy it would be to slip into their camp and slit their throats in their sleep. Of course, he’d probably end up with his own throat cut as well.

  Unsure of how long he sat there fighting the ghosts of his past, Thrasher noticed a shadow moving toward him. It took him a second to realize it was Kaspyn.

  “How did you know where to find me?” He’d walked through the water’s edge to be sure he left no footprints.

  She trailed over and took a seat next to him. “I followed your scent.”

  That surprised him. “You smelled me? I showered a little over an hour ago.”

  A soft smile touched her lips. “I said your scent, not your odor.”

  Thrasher didn’t return her smile.

  “I am sorry for entering your mind without permission. I have always used my gift as a way to ascertain who I can trust and who I cannot. But that is not why I did it with you.”

  “Then why did you?”

  Something flickered in her eyes. “To see if you had a mate.”

  Thrasher’s eyebrows shot up. He hadn’t expected her to say that. “Huh?”

  She suddenly appeared uncomfortable. “It became obvious that you were attempting to hide something from me. I had to know…”

  His heartbeat kicked up a notch once more. “I’m not mated. And if I were, I wouldn’t need to hide it from you. Nor would I have kissed you back in Aukrabah.” Why had he brought that up?

  Kaspyn visibly swallowed. “Your father—“

  “Is in prison where he belongs,” Thrasher interrupted, not wanting to discuss his piece-of-shit dad. “And my mother is dead.”

  She nodded, lowering her gaze. “Yes, you told me about your mother.”

  An awkward silence fell between them, and Kaspyn moved to stand. “I will leave you to your thoughts.”

  “Don’t go.” Had he spoken those two words aloud? He was pretty damn sure he did. Especially when she hesitated, uncertainty evident in her posture.

  She cleared her throat and eased back down next to him. “I seem to anger you every time that I speak.”

  “My anger isn’t directed at you, Kaspyn. I mean, I know it seems that way, but honestly, it isn’t.”

  “I saw what your father did to your mother and you,” she stated quietly. “I understand where your rage comes from.”

  The very mention of his father turned his stomach. “I’d rather not talk about him if you don’t mind.”

  “Humans are more different from us than you seem to think,” Kaspyn muttered.

  Thrasher glanced at her profile. “How so?”

  “Bracadytes do not attempt to f
eign indifference. We do not hide our feelings for the sake of our pride.”

  “Bullshit.”

  She turned to face him, a frown on her beautiful face. “I do not know that word.”

  “It pretty much means that I’m calling you out on a lie.”

  “I do not lie, land walker.”

  Thrasher’s temper flared once more. “Stop calling me land walker, bottom feeder.”

  Kaspyn surged to her feet. “I do not feed from the bottom, nor do I need to waste my time sitting out here with you. I have shit to do!” She stormed off.

  “You finally used it in the right reference,” Thrasher snapped at her retreating back.

  He watched her silhouette move down the beach until she faded from his sight.

  Why did she always seem to get underneath his skin? He’d dealt with thousands of men and women on a daily basis in the military as well as the CIA, and he’d never allowed one of them to needle him the way Kaspyn did. And she did it without trying. Damn her…

  Chapter Sixteen

  Kaspyn jerked the door open to her bungalow, anger evident in her every step. She had no idea how Thrasher could elicit such a response from her, she only knew that he could.

  He spoke to her as if she were human and not a royal princess.

  She peeled off her clothes with jerky movements and crawled into bed to stare at the ceiling.

  Her mind wandered back to the brief glimpse she’d had of Thrasher’s memories. His father had beat him and his mother.

  A strange feeling overcame Kaspyn the longer she lay there. A Bracadyte male would never raise his hand to a female or his child unless that child broke one of their laws.

  Kaspyn had heard tales of King Klause allowing the strap to be taken to his own sons when they’d broken their laws. But her father, King Kryten had never done such a thing. Of course, he’d never had a son.

  She lifted an arm and draped it across her face, visions of Thrasher dominating her mind. Why did he have to be so incredibly handsome? Kaspyn had never seen eyes the color of his before. Blue as the sky and fringed with dark lashes.

  Her eyes slid shut as she recalled his lips taking possession of hers. And it had been a possession. He’d taken, demanded and owned her in that moment.