Resisting Tamaki

by Shelley Munro

  “Most beings who enter the room seem to want to have sex.” Rico looked him straight in the eye for the first time since the torrid threesome in the new room. “Even though it’s not what they would’ve done normally.”

  Tamaki sighed, his rapid tapping with the quill sending another shower of ink over the once-clean parchment. “It seems that way.” He thought of his second bout of sex with Cimmaron and coughed to clear his throat. The sensation jolted the length of his body, making him all too aware of the way he reacted to the Dlog female. Two dates. One more time and they’d be mates. Tamaki wasn’t sure how he felt about that. A club manager moved around often, which was why most of them only dated when they took advantage of the club’s amenities. And never with staff because of the rules. He’d botched up both the dating thing and the rules. Good going, hotshot.

  “Tamaki!”

  Tamaki jerked to attention. “What?”

  “Are you all right?” Rico appeared ready to bolt.

  Tamaki chuckled. “Relax. I’m not about to jump you.”

  “Yeah, my head knows that, but I can’t help it. I’ve never done anything like we did the other night.” He glanced at Tamaki and grinned suddenly. “Not before I met Marianna either.”

  “Yeah. Me either. Come on. We’d better check out the room.”

  “Uh-uh. Not in my job description,” Rico said. “I don’t get paid danger money.”

  “We’ll wear masks and full suits. It has to be something in the atmosphere that’s making everyone act that way.”

  * * * * *

  The room appeared warm and welcoming, which was exactly what they’d intended when they drew up the plans and decided on fitting it out.

  Tamaki smirked at his friend through the transparent mask he wore over his face. He pushed open the door and stepped inside, his suit rustling loudly. The room looked normal. Tamaki turned to speak to Rico. His friend stood just outside the door, his pale and sweaty face obvious even though the mask.

  “Coward,” Tamaki taunted.

  Rico nodded and flapped his arms like a chicken. “Bawk, bawk, bawk, bawk.”

  “I don’t feel anything weird.” Tamaki strode over to the controls and examined them. His fingers flew over the keyboard as he typed in commands. “Nothing wrong that I can see. You’re the expert with the electronics. Come and take a look.”

  Rico brushed past him and ran the electronics through a series of self-tests. “Everything looks fine.”

  “Do you feel anything?” Tamaki ventured.

  “Nothing. Do you think it’s the suits? That would mean the problem really is transmitted through the life-force conditioners.”

  Rico studied the unit that pumped suitable breathing life force for each species through the room, before glancing at Tamaki. The expression on Tamaki’s face brought a scowl. “Aw, shit. I can read your mind. We’re going to test it.”

  “There’s already gossip about the room. It’s best if we keep as much in-house as possible before we lose customers. We’ll prop the door open. If you feel anything weird, get out.”

  “Fuck,” Rico said, but he propped the door open and strode to the middle of the room. “You go first.”

  Tamaki took a deep breath. His gut crawled with apprehension despite his casual attitude. He wasn’t too happy about the situation himself. He counted silently to three and ripped off his mask. Seconds later Rico did the same. They stared at each other in total silence. Tamaki took another cautious breath. The life force they were breathing seemed okay. There were no weird scents.

  Without warning, it hit. A wave of lust that buckled his knees with its intensity. “Out,” he gasped.

  “But I want…” Rico backed up, his eyes glowing with desperate need. “Don’t wanna seem overfamiliar,” he ground out, his face screwed up in torment. “But you have the sexiest butt.”

  “Marianna,” Tamaki gasped. He jerked his gaze off Rico and struggled with the multitude of feelings crashing through his body. His blood thundered through his veins. His heart slammed against his ribs, and his hands shook with the need to stroke Rico’s face, his skin. He wanted to kiss his friend in the worst way.

  Wasn’t gonna happen. Was. Not. Going. To. Happen. “Out,” he ordered. “You first.”

  Rico edged toward the door, but Tamaki could see it was a huge struggle. Rico swallowed loudly and licked his lips. Tamaki followed the movement avidly before he realized what he was doing. He ripped his gaze away, his body in a hot sweat. His cock thrust against the coveralls he wore, reminding him of the urgency to mate. The thought pierced his confused brain. If he weren’t damn careful, he’d end up mated to his best friend. “Out!” he hollered.

  The blast of sound prodded Rico to action. He attempted to walk but fell. With an anguished groan, he crawled across the synwood floor. Tamaki watched his slow progress and fought the urge to race across to his friend and drag him into his arms. Aghast at the direction of his thoughts, he attempted to dredge up Cimmaron’s face. Her almond-shaped eyes and the flash of gold that captivated him every time he saw her. He fought his need to go to Rico, concentrating on Cimmaron and how she felt in his arms, the smooth flow of skin across skin, the glide of lips. Her taste. Tamaki shuddered. Oh yeah. She tasted mighty fine.

  Suddenly, the blinding need for sex died. He inhaled deeply and turned to the door. Rico stood just outside the room, gulping in huge drafts of fresh life force.

  “You okay?” Tamaki called.

  “I am now. You?”

  “As soon as you were outside, the urge to mate stopped.”

  Rico scowled. “Houston, we have a problem.”

  * * * * *

  Rico plonked onto a chair in front of Tamaki’s desk and stretched his legs out in front of him. “Business is down on the second level.”

  “Yeah. The receptionist said it had been quiet. The rumors are flying faster than a Naxmus fighter ship.” Tamaki leaped to his feet and paced back and forth behind his desk. “If only I could find the cause. It’s ticking me off. I know the problem is something to do with the life-force conditioning unit, but I’ve changed the machine, the filters and every other conceivable part. If I’m on my own, I’m fine, but the moment someone else enters the room, all I can think of is sex.” Tamaki paused. “You don’t want to know what I nearly did to the droid,” he added wryly.

  “What are you going to do?” Rico asked.

  Tamaki sat on the corner of the desk and was pleased his friend didn’t jump out of his skin. Things were almost back to normal now that they knew their behavior had been chemically induced somehow. “I’ll be upstairs in the room. I’ve been leaving the door open while there are no customers around, so if you need me, holler from the door. I thought I’d go through everything once more before I go to the experts. You don’t need me down here.”

  “No, we’re fine. I didn’t approve of hiring Cimmaron initially, but she’s a damn fine bartender. Patronage has increased on this level since she arrived.”

  A pang of jealousy shot through Tamaki. While Rico had finally returned to normal behavior, Cimmaron was avoiding him. Normally he would have taken it on the chin, mentally shrugged, and moved on. After all, what did he want with a mate? He definitely didn’t need problems with his bosses or termination of his contract for fraternization. Yet a part of his mind hungered for her touch, her laugh and smile. God, he missed her sassy tongue and no-nonsense plain speaking. Cimmaron didn’t play games, which was why he was trying to do the right thing and keep away. It wasn’t easy when she continually dwelled in his mind.

  Chapter Seven

  Cimmaron let herself out the front door of the boarding house and pulled the door shut, tugging to test it was firmly shut. The local youths were in their normal place on the steps of an old warehouse. They had taken to calling her names whenever she passed, but the harassment didn’t go any further than that. She marched past, her nose proudly tilted upward, but not far enough she wasn’t aware of her surroundings. The leader sneered, and Cimma
ron allowed her upper lip to curl with answering disdain. Childish but necessary if she wanted to win the silent battle waging between them.

  “Hear there trouble at club,” he called. His friends cackled like a group of broody Martian hens, nudging each other with their elbows. The leader smirked proudly, puffing up like a Martian rooster keeping his hens in line.

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cimmaron said, barely breaking stride. Score one for the enemy.

  “I hear sex good in new room.”

  It was the smug satisfaction in his voice, the knowing tone that made her halt and turn to scan his face.

  “Good trickie, chica, huh? Don’t get mad, get even.”

  Without thought, Cimmaron prowled toward him, ready to choke the truth from his scrawny neck. If he knew anything, she’d get it from him. Damn, she’d had sex twice with Tamaki in that room. Twice. Not sex, a small voice hummed at the back of her mind. Made love. She cursed, her eyes narrowing as a wave of rage swept her. She didn’t want a mate. She would not mate, no matter how sexy or how enticing he was or how he made her motor purr. Cimmaron intended to fly ships.

  The youth’s friends backed away in alarm, leaving the leader isolated—alone and the target of her wrath.

  Cimmaron advanced again, stopping close enough for her to smell the vroom fumes exiting with each uneasy breath the leader took. She inhaled and gagged at the stench of sweaty bodies. They obviously subscribed to the latest fad idea regarding cleanliness as being unhealthy. Cimmaron breathed through her mouth, closing out the worst of the reek of unwashed bodies, vroom fumes and fear.

  “Tell me,” she gritted out, impatient for answers. She glanced at her timepiece and scowled. Time was wasting. “Tell me now.”

  “Bitch,” the leader growled, and before she could grab him, he whirled away. He melted into the shadowed alley that ran between the buildings, followed closely by his friends.

  “Phrull.” Cimmaron stared after them for a moment before deciding she’d better head for the club. She’d worm the truth out of them the next time she saw them.

  Cimmaron stalked past locals laden with produce who were leaving the late-night market. Did the youths know something or had they heard the rumors and decided to capitalize on them? She replayed the words as she dodged a pair of droids pulling a cart laden with Marchant dried vegetables and dehydrated fruits. The leader had talked about revenge. He looked the type who didn’t forgive easily, especially with his pride involved. She gave her timepiece another glance and broke into a run. On arrival at the club, she scanned her finger and the door opened to let her inside.

  “Late,” Hulk said.

  Cimmaron sneered at him, and Hulk glowered right back. She bit back the urge to grin. The male carried photos of his offspring in his currency belt. She’d caught him showing them to the other security guards. She shook her head, bemusement making her frown. The offspring looked ugly, and she didn’t get why he was so proud, even though his behavior was kinda cute.

  “You coming in or ya gonna stay there?”

  “I work here,” Cimmaron snapped, instantly more comfortable with their usual repartee. “’Course I’m coming in.” She strode past Hulk and headed for the changing rooms where she’d left her thigh-high boots. In the dressing room, she slipped out of her coat, pulled off her pilot boots and thrust her feet into the hated uniform boots.

  Cimmaron sighed before heading back out to the bar. Her currency didn’t seem to grow much. The pills to suppress her Dlog hormones had arrived at the apothecary a few pars earlier. They were expensive, but she had to have them since without them all her plans would turn to solar dust. At this rate, she was going to remain stranded for many more moon cycles. “Bloody male.”

  “Talking about me?”

  Cimmaron came to an abrupt halt but not quite quick enough. Her breasts brushed the hard wall of Tamaki’s chest before she jerked away. Frissons of heat ricocheted through her body, traveling through her breasts and lower to her sex. She gasped, trying to control her wayward hormones. A soft chuckle snapped up her head, and she glared at him.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  “I didn’t mean to. I thought you saw me coming.”

  Cimmaron bit the inside of her lip in consternation. She should have noticed him standing there. She was growing soft working in this bar, losing all her pilot instincts.

  “I’m late,” she snapped.

  Tamaki merely grinned. “I don’t think the boss will dock your currency earnings. Do you want to have dinner with me?”

  Cimmaron gaped. “No.”

  Tamaki reached out and brushed his hand over her cheek before she had an inkling of what he intended. Another series of lightning bolts shot through her body until she finally reacted and stepped away.

  “You have to eat. I don’t want to mate with you,” Tamaki said. “I thought we were friends and you might like to eat together.”

  “I don’t have friends.” What was wrong with the male? Why wouldn’t he leave her alone? Every other male she came into contact backed off once she’d made it clear she wasn’t interested. Also glowering helped, except her scowls didn’t work on Tamaki.

  “I’m your friend, Cimmaron. I’m going to work in the green room. Page me when you’re on a dinner break and I’ll come down.” Raising a hand, he walked away, leaving her staring after him.

  The loud buzz of a Marchant midge made her realize her mouth hung open like an invitation. She snapped it shut so the insect didn’t fly inside and hurried off to the bar, trying to outrun her jumbled thoughts.

  “You’re late,” Rico said.

  “Blame Tamaki. He wanted to talk.” Phrull, he wanted to be friends. Cimmaron shook away her horror. “What do ya want?” she snarled at a waiting pilot.

  His teasing gaze slid across her bared skin and the tight uniform before settling on her scowling face. He sighed. “I guess I’m gonna have to settle for a drink. An Earth whiskey. No ice.”

  Cimmaron nodded and turned to fix the pilot’s drink. After sliding the drink across the bar, she accepted the handful of credits he gave her. She moved on to the next customer, her mind still on the male she’d just served. He was much prettier than Tamaki, and he had music in his drawl. He hadn’t caused a single blip on her hormone radar while Tamaki— She broke off the thought to slam a flask of vroom on the bar, splashing a few drops over the shiny surface. It sizzled on contact before turning a milky white color then pink when the flash of lights caught it. “Sorry,” she said to the customer as she ran a cloth over the spill.

  She moved to the next customer, ignored the attempts at flirting while she hummed along with the live band. Not bad for a change. The laughter became louder, more raucous as the night passed. She took her break and didn’t page Tamaki as he’d requested. Guilt assailed her briefly, but she shoved it away, telling herself she didn’t have time for a long break. They needed her back behind the bar because it was so busy. Time passed and, eventually, the punters started to leave in twos or threes, wobbling unsteadily through the door into the frigid Marchant morn.

  Cimmaron swiped an errant lock of hair from her face and wearily started to restock the drinks behind the bar. On the other side, droids collected empty flasks and goblets, stacking them on the bar for washing.

  “Have you seen Tamaki?” Rico asked.

  “No.” Cimmaron pushed aside the tiny bit of hurt that flashed through her. He hadn’t meant the friend thing. Friendship wasn’t possible, not since she was a Dlog. Dlog females didn’t have friends. They had mates.

  “He’s not answering his page and we need him to sign off on the stock and send the transmission to head office.”

  “Send security to get him.” Cimmaron scanned the remaining customers who were finishing off drinks. A curse echoed through the club. “Phrull, those idiots are gonna fight.”

  Rico ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up. “I’d better help security. Go and get Tamaki. Remind him he needs to do the sign off.”<
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  “Yeah. Okay.”

  Rico grabbed her forearm as she passed. “Don’t go inside the room. Speak to Tamaki from the door.”

  “Why can’t someone else go?” Cimmaron frantically searched for a way out. Avoidance was best. Every time she came within touching distance of the sexy male, she wanted more. She wanted taste as well as sight. She wanted…

  Phrull!

  “Go, Cimmaron,” Rico ordered, and before she could rally another argument, he leaped across the bar and waded into the skirmish.

  A chair crashed over on its side. Hulk grabbed two beings by the scruffs of their necks and threw them toward the door.

  Cimmaron dodged a groaning Vercops. His eyes bulged from their sockets—all six of them—while shrill distress calls from his mate filled the air. She ran up the stairs, her boots clunking noisily. At the top of the spiral staircase, she turned to the left and hurried to the green room. The microt she spied the privacy screen for the green room her heart started to pump faster. Something close to alarm prickled the hairs at the back of her neck. She halted outside the dense metal door. It was shut too. Cimmaron reached for the door handle and hesitated. She wiped her moist palm on her shrinkton skirt and tried again.

  “Phrull,” she whispered when her hand trembled violently. Each time she saw Tamaki, it was harder to resist his good-natured charm. And the longing… The longing grew stronger and stronger. She was a pilot, dammit. She threw her shoulders back and thrust open the door.

  “Tamaki.” Cimmaron cleared her throat and repeated his name in a firmer voice. “Tamaki. Are you there?”

  The fight downstairs was escalating. A loud crash echoed up the stairs. A male roared in his native tongue, the shrieks and clicks sounding fierce and furious.

  Damn. Cimmaron peered around the corner. Someone was sprawled on the floor. All she could see was legs, but she thought it was Tamaki. “Tamaki?” No answer. Her brows drew together in a frown. She was going to have to go inside. Gingerly, she entered the room, holding her breath.