Resisting Tamaki

by Shelley Munro

  As she let herself out and walked off without looking back, Cimmaron pushed aside the loneliness that suddenly assailed her. Her steps faltered momentarily then she threw her shoulders back and increased her pace. She was used to being alone. Ever since she’d decided to train as a pilot, she’d traveled a lone road. Once she cleared her name and they reinstated her, the hole wouldn’t seem quite as large.

  She stalked down the brightly lit streets, but instead of heading for the club, she turned toward the spaceport. Vagrants loitered in the shadowed recesses of buildings. She kept moving in a confident manner, knowing the slightest trace of fear would lead to disaster.

  A sudden sharp pang of pain in her chest took her by surprise. She gasped and staggered at the intensity of it. Clutching her chest, she attempted to breathe through the pain. The shuffle of feet behind her made her spin with an instinctive feral growl. No way was she succumbing to vagrants intent on stealing her possessions and currency.

  “Back off,” she snarled.

  A gnarled and stooped male wrapped in a grubby white cloak held up his hands in a peaceful sign of surrender. “Not me to worry ’bout,” he whispered, his voice hoarse from years of smoking the harsh local tobacco. “Rich young males slummin’. Thems cause worry. Hide!” He slipped into the shadows and disappeared from sight.

  Cimmaron glanced over her shoulder. Phrull! The same group who harassed her most days. Had they followed? She’d been so leery of what was in front of her, she hadn’t checked for danger slinking behind her. She slid into the shadows and hastened her pace, moving swiftly through the dimly lit areas of the rutted streets. A wave of pain crashed through her chest again. Phrull. She’d taken a pill before she’d left for work. Determined footsteps behind made her suck up the agony and move.

  Dilapidated stalls and areas to display traders’ wares were in evidence now. Another bolt of cramp hit and with a silent grimace, she sank to the ground behind a pile of discarded display tables. Her boot went into an open drain, the splash too loud for her liking. She froze, hoping they hadn’t heard.

  “Where chica go?” a sing-song voice called.

  “No see,” someone answered. “No see.”

  “Tricky chica. Tricky. Tricky. Tricky.” Cimmaron recognized the leader’s voice. Phrull. Just once she’d like to level the playing field and have a one-on-one confrontation with the coward instead of the complete gang. Her top lip curled up in contempt. It would never happen—not with his rich parents and their currency behind him.

  A spaceship roared overhead, taking off from the spaceport. The flare from the propulsion unit lit the entire street for an instant while the rumble from the engines filled the air. She crouched even lower, glad of her nondescript brown tunic. It would be difficult for them to spot her. All she needed to do was wait them out—if the stench of rotting rat-creatures didn’t kill her first.

  “Chica must ’ave gone other street,” the leader said. “Backtrack.”

  He wasn’t going to check behind all the piles of rubble in the street? Surprise made her blink. She’d thought him brighter than that. Or…perhaps he was. She remained where she was for long moments after he’d spoken and she’d heard them retreat. The cold ground cramped her legs, matching the throbbing in her chest. She shifted uneasily but the pain grew worse. When she was about to move, she heard a soft curse and then footsteps. Cimmaron’s heart thundered with sudden apprehension. She’d been right to wait before moving. The leader had tried to smoke her out with trickery.

  Pain hit again. She curled up in a tight ball, trying not to make any noise in case they came back. A shiver racked her body. Phrull. Cold. So cold. Tamaki would know how to warm her freezing body. As the thought slipped stealthily into her mind, the cramps eased. Cimmaron listened carefully and heard the murmur of voices to her left. The shuffle of feet. The swish of a cloak. She pressed a fist to the nagging ache emanating from her chest and concentrated, trying to discern if it was the gang of youths or others.

  “Psst!”

  Cimmaron threw her head backward and thumped against the stone wall behind her. For a moment, she saw stars. A groan squeezed past her lips as she tried to figure out which part of her hurt worst—her head or her chest.

  “Psst, they’ve gone.” A male in a dirty white robe appeared in front of her. It was the vagrant she’d seen earlier. “Leave now. Peaceful street. Don’t want trouble.”

  Well, that was telling her. Her presence was not required. “I’m going.” Cimmaron turned away from the vagrant and walked quickly to the relative safety of the spaceport.

  The agony in her chest intensified, robbing Cimmaron of breath. Clutching her chest, she pushed through the growing throngs of beings exiting and entering the spaceport. The microt she entered the port, she made a point of standing straight and pretending her chest didn’t hurt like the devil. Once she found paying employment on a ship leaving Marchant, she’d have time to recuperate from whatever ailed her. Meantime, she’d suck it in.

  Cimmaron decided she’d go to the workers’ canteen first. Gossip was usually the best source when it came to searching for employment. And if she had to use her Dlog looks to gain the information, then so be it. The knot on her head continued to ache in harmony with her chest. A film of sweat broke out on her forehead.

  “What happened to you?” a male in oil-stained coveralls said.

  Cimmaron frowned. “Nothing.” She stuck her nose in the air and attempted to sidle past.

  “The side of your head is bleeding.”

  “Where?” Cimmaron prodded the lump on her head. A sharp pain shot through her head. She winced. Her hand came away bloody. “Oh that. I hit my head. Tripped,” she added. “Are any of the ships hiring?”

  “You?”

  “No, the king of Mars,” Cimmaron snapped. “Of course it’s me.”

  “Not many beings willing to hire a Dlog. Too much trouble.”

  Cimmaron drew herself up tall and stared down at him in distaste. “I’m not a Dlog.” She maintained his gaze but it was difficult with the persistent throb in her chest. All she wanted to do was curl up in a ball of misery, or even better, lie down with Tamaki at her side. He would make her forget the pain. They’d touch each other, stroke, fondle. Kiss.

  A maintenance droid dropped a tray on the floor with a loud clatter, thankfully yanking Cimmaron from her traitorous thoughts. Tamaki. Bah! The male had set her up. Tricked her. Not that she believed anything about the mate thing. She didn’t feel different. A vision of Tamaki formed inside her head, and her whole body jerked, shock freezing her rigid. The bloody male was naked, his erection thrusting outward. He was flaunting himself.

  “Are you all right?” the male asked.

  Cimmaron shook the vision from her head. “Yes. Anyone hiring?” she demanded, out of patience with the male. She’d asked a simple question. Was it too much to expect an answer?

  He waved his hand in the direction of the far wall. “Check out the notice board over there.”

  “Thanks.” She walked in the direction he’d indicated. Each step was pure torture. Beads of sweat formed on her brow again even though she’d wiped it earlier, and her meager possessions weighed heavy on her shoulder, as burdensome as two crates of vroom. Her chest continued to ache with sharp flashes of pain striking like lashes from a whip. She transferred her scruffy bag to her left hand and raised her right hand to massage her chest. It didn’t help. With each step she took, the stabbing pangs radiated from her torso. She gasped, her bag dropping from nerveless fingers. It hit the floor, falling in front of a trader. The trader tripped and fell headfirst onto a table laden with trays of Marchant stew and flasks of vroom and reeb. Crashes and colorful curses filled the air as chairs scraped across the floor, and the beings seated at the table jumped to their feet. A pungent stream of Marchant stew dripped over the edge of the table.

  “I’m so sorry.” Cimmaron’s hand pressed against the middle of her chest but still the pain intensified. She wobbled then crumpled to the g
round, her legs unable to support her any longer.

  The nearest being, a pilot from one of the freighters judging by his uniform and boots, knelt beside her. “You okay?”

  “Looking for job,” Cimmaron gasped out, her mind focused on the one thing most important to her. A job. Freedom. Independence.

  He touched his palm to her forehead. “You’re sick.”

  “Not. Need job.”

  “We have a job available. For a pilot. Not a…ah…” The male trailed off while several of the others laughed.

  “Not a Dlog concubine,” a female pilot said with a disdainful curl of her lip.

  “I am a pilot.” With great effort, she stood. When she wobbled precariously, the male who’d helped her grabbed and held her upright. “Second pilot on the Intrepid.”

  “Yeah right,” the female countered before turning her back on Cimmaron in a pointed snub. The rest of the pilots did the same.

  The male pilot pulled a cloth from his tunic and wiped her forehead. “You’re not well. Why don’t you find lodgings until you’re feeling better? Phrull, I hope whatever you have isn’t contagious.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with me!” Staying would mean facing Tamaki again. She scowled even though the chest pains had eased a fraction. The stupid male thought they were mates. Yeah. Okay. They’d had a little fun together, but they weren’t mates. She’d know if they were since she’d have trouble leaving his side. She’d turn all obedient. Subservient. She’d want to touch him all the time and be touched in return. She’d…

  Phrull, she definitely had the touch thing down. Her fingers practically itched with the need to fondle, to run her hand and tongue and lips across his naked torso. And lower.

  “No one will hire you if you can barely stand.”

  Cimmaron sighed, aware the male was taking most of her weight. If he let go she’d likely fall flat on her face. “But I need to leave Marchant!”

  “Not gonna happen.” The male checked his timepiece. “Time for me to head back to my ship.”

  “Thanks.” She retrieved her bag and found an empty chair to sink onto before watching the pilot stride away. Envy sat uneasily in her gut. That male was going to fly a ship out of Marchant airspace while once again she would remain stranded.

  Chapter Nine

  Tamaki strode down the narrow alley, his lips pursed in a silent whistle. The Marchant morn was cool and a puff of steam erupted with his exhalation. He drew his cloak around his body to keep the worst of the cold at bay and increased his pace. Cimmaron. His mate. He couldn’t wait to see her again. First he’d kiss her golden lips then he’d swing her into his arms and carry her off to her room where they could be private, their loving as noisy as they wanted. He’d strip her lean yet curvy body of every scrap of clothing. Next he’d tie her hands and legs with the silken scarves he carried in his pockets so she couldn’t move. He’d tease her breasts and nipples until they stood erect with lots of kissing and nuzzling in between. He’d kiss the vulnerable skin of her neck and behind her ears. He’d draw her taut golden nipples deep into his mouth and suckle. Gradually he’d work down her body. Yeah. Tamaki grinned. He’d delve into the dip of her bellybutton with his tongue. She’d be hot for him by this time.

  Impatient.

  She’d wriggle and twist against the silken scarves that kept her bound. Hell, she might even start to beg. Tamaki chuckled at the thought. Somehow, he didn’t think his mate liked begging. She might demand in that imperious way of hers. Captain mode. Life between them would never be smooth-running, but the odd disagreement wouldn’t trouble him. They’d function well as a team.

  What would he do to her next?

  Ah yes. Maybe he’d skip a few parts and stoke her impatience even higher. He’d massage her feet and calves with a delicate-scented cream. Maybe a cream scented with moonflowers and a hint of jabo aphrodisiac to make them both even hotter for each other. Desperate. Tamaki paused to open his cloak to the morn chill because suddenly, he burned with heat. A sharp pain tore through his chest, and Tamaki drew in a harsh breath. Damn, he’d had a cramp in his gut all morn. He breathed through the twinge of pain before continuing his brisk pace. He thumped on the door of Lissa’s boardinghouse, his feel-good mood returning once the pain in his chest faded.

  The door opened. Tamaki grabbed Lissa in a firm hug and squeezed her until the air hissed from her lungs and she started to protest.

  “Let a lady breathe,” she gasped out.

  “But it’s such a fine morn. Has Cimmaron risen from her slumber?”

  “Cimmaron’s gone. You’d better come inside.” She led him through to her meeting room and gestured him to take a seat. “She left a note.”

  “Gone where? I didn’t think she had enough currency yet.” Tamaki sat but jumped to his feet microts later and strode from one end of the sumptuous room to the other. He dodged a green velveteen cozy chair and paused briefly to stare through the privacy slats at the windows. His gut churned. He’d thought… A heartfelt groan emerged. God, with Cimmaron he should never think or assume. She was so strong and independent. “Gone where?”

  “She didn’t say. I thought she would have told you since you work together.”

  “We’re mates,” Tamaki said bluntly. “I didn’t plan for it. The mating happened by mistake, but I can’t be sorry. I love the stubborn female. Damn, what the hell am I going to do?”

  “If you love her and want to remain sane, go after her.”

  “I don’t understand. The mating bonds are tight. She shouldn’t have been able to leave.”

  Lissa handed him a goblet of ruby red cranfruit wine. Tamaki’s hands curled around the warm goblet as he puzzled over Cimmaron’s leaving. Hell, she must really hate him. The thought was sobering. A mate who hated him so much she’d left rather than face him again.

  “That’s what I’d heard, but possibly it’s something to do with her Dlog genes?” Lissa sipped from the steaming goblet. “The two of you are a good match. Go after her. Talk to her. Have you told her how you feel about her?”

  “No.”

  Lissa rolled her eyes. “I thought you were more sensible than most males. You know she wants to fly more than anything. Stopping her flying would be like clipping a bird’s wings.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Tamaki scowled, a pang of regret lancing through him. He loved Cimmaron, but he’d known all along this wasn’t what she’d wanted. Now he’d driven her away. “That’s what I wanted to talk to her about.” Tamaki prowled about the room, pausing to pick up a delicate blue urn before setting it back down.

  A thump on Lissa’s door stopped him mid-step.

  “Carry on,” Lissa said with another eye roll. “Don’t let me stop you. I’ll get the door.” She glided across the room and disappeared into the passage beyond.

  The soft murmur of voices reached him as he trod another circuit of Lissa’s room. In the distance, a door thudded and footsteps approached.

  “You have a visitor.” Lissa stood aside for someone else to enter the room.

  Tamaki froze. “Cimmaron.”

  “I’ll leave the two of you alone,” Lissa said, withdrawing and shutting the door before Tamaki had a chance to reply.

  He took two steps toward Cimmaron before stopping. Space. She needed time and space to accept him and their new situation. He opened his mouth to speak then closed it, frightened he’d spook her.

  Cimmaron stood poised just inside the doorway, as if she might bolt. “I tried to leave, to get a job on one of the ships flying out. I wanted to leave, but I couldn’t damn well stop thinking about you.” Her golden eyes flashed with temper, and she stepped closer, jabbing him in the middle of his chest with her forefinger. “What have you done to me? Why can’t I get you out of my head?” Her breasts heaved with indignation beneath her brown tunic. “Why?”

  Tamaki’s heart flipped over on seeing her pain, hearing it in her voice. He loved her. Wasn’t that worth something? He hadn’t told her. Telling her might help. Another realizat
ion crept into his mind. The pain in his chest had faded the microt Cimmaron had stepped into the room. A part of him wanted to smile even though so much rode on how he presented his case to her. Right now it was difficult. All he wanted to do was touch her and physically demonstrate his love and desire. He drew in a sharp breath, knowing he needed to wait, that patience would be worth it.

  A ripple of nerves closed his throat. Tamaki coughed and swallowed, trying to dislodge the tension. “Cimmaron, I didn’t mean for this to happen.” But he wasn’t sorry either. Not the time to admit his lack of regret.

  “But you didn’t stop it.” Tears coated her voice and her golden eyes looked suspiciously damp.

  “I’m an innocent victim too. Do you think I planned on this? I could lose my job for breaking the fraternization rule.”

  A stricken expression crossed her face. She blinked rapidly. “All I ever wanted to do was fly ships. When I was an underling, I used to watch the birds glide on the airwaves. I wanted to do the same thing. Fly and explore space.”

  His mate’s misery brought another lump to his throat. Aching to comfort her, he stepped closer and drew her tense body into his arms. For an instant, her body remained stiff, then a wispy sigh sounded and she relaxed against his chest. Her body trembled, but it felt so right to have her in his arms.

  Perfect.

  His hands tightened on her shoulders. Then his body reacted to her proximity. His cock pulled tight. Not now. Wrong time. Wrong place. He pulled up cold images inside his mind, but it was difficult to remain impassive with the warm body of his mate in his arms.

  Yet again, he cleared his throat. “You can still fly, Cimmaron.” Dammit, his plan had to work. He held his breath waiting for her reaction.

  She yanked away from him, aware she’d succumbed to the magical power he seemed to hold over her again. And the blasted aches and pains that had assailed her at the spaceport had all disappeared. The only ache she experienced now was a sexual one. Her folds were moist and tender, her body desperate for his possession. She shifted from foot to foot, the brown tunic heavy and burdensome on her sensitive skin. She summoned up a glare. “How? Tell me how I can fly when I’m trapped on this forsaken planet with you? The captain of the Intrepid has probably filed his AWOL report by now. I’m doomed to stay, chained to your side.” Bitterness coated her voice even though logically she knew Tamaki wasn’t entirely to blame for this situation. She hadn’t exactly resisted him at the end. As he’d pointed out, he was a victim too. She paused, trying to think. Yet no matter which way she turned the situation, she couldn’t see a solution.