Pirate Nemesis (Telepathic Space Pirates Book 1) by Carysa Locke Page B

to help Atrea. Some of that pressure in her chest eased. Wolfgang would never have let them do anything to hurt her. That much she was certain of.
    Vashti waved a hand in the air. “I made him go and eat something. He’s barely left either of you in three days. You were clearly recovering, and no one knows quite what to do for Atrea yet, poor dear. There was really no point in his constant hovering.” She gave Mercy’s hand a quick pat. “Now that you’re awake, I’m sure he’ll be here very soon.”
    “You made Wolfgang Hades get something to eat?” No one ordered the old Wolf around.
    “Of course.”
    Mercy stared at this old woman, with her easy expression and fond smile. “You pressured him, didn’t you? With Talent?”
    Vashti gave a careless shrug. “For his own good. The man had barely eaten since you went missing. With you finally safe, it was time he did.”
    “May I finish my examination now?” Doc framed it as a question, but there was no mistaking the stiff irritation in his tone, or the fact that it wasn’t really a request.
    Calmer now, Mercy gave him an amused look. “Has anyone ever told you that you have the worst bedside manner?”
    “Oh yes, dear,” said Vashti. “Everyone says that.”
    Doc cast her an irritated look. “I’ve had about enough of you—”
    “Doc.”
    The word was spoken with such quiet authority, it arrested the attention of everyone in the room. Mercy turned her head to see a man standing in the doorway of the hatch, tall, with wide shoulders. He took up the entire space, and not just physically. He wore a casual white shirt tucked into a worn pair of armored pants. The sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, showing muscular forearms. His dark hair hung loose around his shoulders, and the stubble of beard marking his face made it seem like he hadn’t cared enough to shave in a day or two. He could have been anything. A smuggler, a deck hand, a dock worker. The sheer presence that came with him when he stepped into the room said he was something more.
    Subdued, Doc ducked his head and muttered to himself under his breath. Vashti sat down as if she just didn’t have the strength to stand any longer. She favored the newcomer with a smile that radiated innocence, and he looked back with a raised eyebrow that said he didn’t buy it for an instant.
    “Cannon!” Only Nayla seemed unaffected, crossing the room to give him a quick hug, which he returned briefly before turning his attention to Mercy.
    He had the same green eyes as Vashti.
    “Let me guess,” Mercy said, feeling an odd sense of the surreal. “We’re family.” For so long, she’d been alone. Now suddenly she was related to everyone she met. It was disconcerting.
    “Cousins,” Cannon confirmed. “My mother was Pallas’s older sister, Nemain.”
    Mercy shrugged. She knew the family tree. Pallas had drilled the names into her, so she knew her mother had three sisters: Nemain, Athena, and Macha. Just like she knew Vashti was really her great-Aunt.
    “And your name is Cannon?” she asked drily.
    He gave her a lazy smile, his teeth a flash of white against the golden bronze of his skin. It transformed his face from merely good looking to wielding a wicked sensuality. Wow , she thought. Charming didn’t begin to cover it, and she had a feeling he was only half trying. I bet women throw themselves at his feet.
    “Our family tends toward unconventional names.” He paused, his grin widening. “Mercy.”
    “Point taken.” She couldn’t help but smile back, amused and appalled despite herself. She spared a moment to be thankful he was a relative. Maybe that would provide her some form of armor against what she suspected was a lethal charisma.
    Cannon glanced around the room, then jerked his head toward the door. “Walk with me? I’ve taken the liberty of preparing a meal. I imagine you’re starving.”
    Mercy thought once more of the nutritional bars she’d been surviving on for who knew how long.