Tamed by the Alien Pirate: Mates of the Kilgari

by Kyle, Celia

  “Yeah, it is,” she mutters, her lips slightly parted as she looks into my eyes. Her voice has gone mellow, and her chest is rising and falling in a deeper way. Mentally, I do a quick scan of the human physiology papers I’ve read, trying to assess if she’s truly aroused, and then bite the inside of my cheek. This isn’t the time for science.

  This is the time for instinct.

  Holding my breath, I let my gaze be drawn to her full lips, their redness promising an intoxicating flavor. My lips part of their own accord, and I reach for her with one hand, my fingertips gently caressing her cheek. Before I know that I’m doing it, I start leaning in, my eyelids close, and—

  The armory door slides open, and a very loud Kintar steps in.

  “I’ve heard there’s a party going on,” he says. “Who needs some muscle in their team?”

  Chapter Four

  Thrase

  Without even thinking about it, I jump away from Zander.

  Nervously running one hand through my hair, I clear my throat and turn around, turning my entire focus to the gear strewn across the workbench. I feel my cheeks reddening, and take a deep breath to steady myself. Was Zander really about to kiss me?

  No, he was about to give you a lecture on beam particles, you idiot, my inner voice chirps. He was leaning in with his eyes closed… what do you think that means? Sighing, I make my peace with it. Of course he was going to kiss me—and he would have done it, if it hadn’t been for Kintar’s surprise appearance.

  Thing is, I don’t really know how to feel about this interruption. I am disappointed, or am I relieved? Sure, there’s no denying I’m attracted to the brainy Kilgari, never mind his autistic obsession with beam weapons, but doesn’t that mean I’m allowing my hormones to dictate my actions? What happened to clear, logical thought?

  Besides, despite how attracted I might feel, going off and kissing him right away could make him think I’m that kind of girl—one who doesn’t think things through, acts in the moment, and allows her hormones to dictate what she does with her body. Well, one thing I know for sure is that I’m not that kind of girl.

  “You heard what I just said?” Kintar insists, clearly surprised with the fact neither Zander or I have offered a reply. “I’m volunteering to accompany you. Someone needs to be around to protect your overly developed brains.”

  Smiling, I turn to see him leaning against the doorway, his meaty arms folded over his chest. His two horns curve up, reaching for the upper part of the doorway, but one of them has been sawed off a couple of fingers from the base. It gives him an unbalanced look but, despite the fact that he’s not my type, it doesn’t make him any less handsome.

  “Thank you, Kintar, I—”

  “Who said we needed help?” Zander cuts me short, taking one step toward Kintar. Trying to be casual about it, he folds his arms over his chest, much like the Kilgari opposite him, and gives him a questioning glance. “Solair didn’t see the need for teams with three elements.”

  “Just thought I could help,” Kintar says, his tone still even. He has the hint of a smile, and I can tell he’s enjoying the exchange. He’s going to rile Zander up just for kicks. “I mean, you spend most of your time with your head glued to the science monitors or tinkering with these beam weapons of yours. I thought it wouldn’t hurt to have someone who keeps up with his conditioning or, you know, someone who does actual weapon training.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Tightening his lips, Zander doesn’t even bother hiding how annoyed he is. Kintar’s getting under his skin, and he’s allowing it to happen. “I’ll let you know that, with the way I’ve designed my weapons, they require minimal training. Besides, I can handle myself better than most guys in the crew. I’m sure you’re aware of that.”

  “Of course,” Kintar says, but he’s clearly amused with it all. “New beam weapons, huh? Have you tried them in the field?”

  “Well, uhmm, not yet.” Hesitating, Zander exhales sharply. Then, he straightens his back and rounds his shoulders, almost as if trying to become larger than he already is. “They’ll work, though.” Still in his pose, he takes one more step toward Kintar and slaps the other Kilgari’s arm in a half playful, half passive-aggressive way. “I appreciate the offer, but Thrase and I can handle ourselves. Your assistance won’t be required.”

  “Right.” Looking over Zander’s shoulder, Kintar shoots me a glance and smiles. There’s a glint there that tells me he knows more than he’s letting on. For a moment, I wonder if he realized we were about to kiss when he stepped in. That thought alone is enough for my cheeks to start warming up once more, boiling blood rushing to my face. Even though I’m not ashamed of my own sexuality, I don’t want to end up like Lamira and Grantian, acting things out for everyone to see.

  Finally, Kintar looks away from me and returns his attention to Zander.

  “I know you have to prepare for it,” he continues, “so I’ll leave you to it, then.”

  His mocking tone has disappeared, and he sounds genuine. Whatever amusement he was getting from messing with Zander has been dismissed, and Kintar’s back to his regular self. Maybe he has realized Zander isn’t in the mood for verbal sparring.

  Most of the Kilgari aboard the Queen are always teasing each other, typical of the competitive psychological schemas exhibited by alpha males, but Zander has reacted poorly to it. Instead of responding from a position of strength and confidence, he just tried to protect his ego in order to look cool.

  He has never been like this before, so why now? Is he trying to impress me?

  Well, if that’s the case, it’s not working.

  “You make sure he keeps you safe, alright?” Kintar tells me before turning around, and I answer him by patting the butt of the pistol hanging from my waist, the cold metal caressing my fingers.

  “I can handle myself too.” It’s a bit of a lie, as I’ve never had any kind of military training, nor have I ever fired a gun before, but I figure it’s the right reply. I don’t want to play the role of damsel in distress, after all, especially after Zander’s idiotic macho behavior. “Thank you for checking in on us, though.”

  “No worries.” Walking out, he gives us both a little wave, and the door slides back into its locked position once more. Immediately, Zander’s tough posture deflates, his shoulders slumping down as he exhales. Only then do I realize he had been puffing out his chest as well. Oh, sweet mercy.

  “What a pompous idiot, right?” he asks me, shaking his head as he points at the door with his thumb. “I’m perfectly capable of keeping you safe down on K’Patel. Besides, there are better things to do than to spend your time holed up in the gym. Typical meat-head.”

  “Yeah, sure,” I tell him dismissively and then focus on the gear. It seems like Kintar somehow bruised Zander’s ego, and now he’s trying to act all cool about it. Well, toxic masculinity has never been cool, and the fact the Kilgari have two cocks doesn’t really give them a pass.

  While before I didn’t know if Kintar’s sudden appearance had been a good thing or not, now I’m definitely relieved he showed up when he did. As much as I might find Zander an interesting male, I’m definitely not interested in participating in this chest-thumping display of primitive behavior.

  He’s hot, though, my inner voice comes back, and I mentally slap it down. Of course he’s hot. That doesn’t mean I’ll have to start melting in place every time he thumps his chest and struts around like an angry primate. I’m interested in him because he’s intelligent and takes pride in a job well done, not because he’s an “alpha” or whatever guys like to label themselves as. Although, to be fair, he is most definitely an alpha.

  Silently, we both pack up the rest of our gear—comms units, reserve batteries, two knives, and ammunition—and then start heading toward the door at the same time. His whole body stiffens once I’m standing close to him, and I look into his eyes and raise one eyebrow. Waving him forward, I step aside.

  “Lead the way.”

  Chapt
er Five

  Zander

  Have I done something?

  Ever since we left the armory Thrase has been awfully silent. At first, I thought it was because of Kintar’s stupid interruption, but I quickly dismissed that thought. She was nice to him, even when he started acting like a jackass.

  But if that’s the case, then what?

  She has been like this the entire shuttle ride onto the surface and, even after we started our trek toward the perimeter we designed, she hasn’t offered a single word. She just remains focused on the path ahead, never even bothering to glance at me. As we split from the rest of our group, leaving the other teams to cover other parts of the perimeter, I suddenly feel the silence between us as an oppressive weight around my shoulders.

  I was aware that human females could be difficult creatures, but I never figured I’d be at such a loss this early on. After all, we were this close to kissing. I expected things to be slightly awkward after that, but this doesn’t make any sense. To say I’m at a loss would be putting it mildly.

  As we enter a cobbled market square reserved for pedestrians, an ocean of different sapients walking around, I start perusing the different stalls. Here and there, I try to make small talk with the vendors, but the majority of them are only interested in plying their wares, not conversation.

  The ones willing to talk quickly clamp up if you mention the IHC or the Star Crushers. These damned mercenary bastards have their roots here, and it shows.

  M’Kal has a very hands-off policy to what happens planetside and a variety of enterprises have set up shop across this world. But that means that in addition to many legitimate businesses, a vast number of gray area businesses that straddle the line have set up shop. In the city of K’Patel, that means the Star Crushers have entrenched themselves.

  They’re a mercenary unit known for their savagery. Started by humans over a hundred years ago, they purposely chose the neutral planets of the League to get away from onerous IHC regulations. They hired from all sapient races, and they’ve cultivated a reputation of working for the highest bidder on any side of the issue. In this city, they run the show. People are afraid of any blowback, and they prefer to ignore the fact that their city streets are teeming with hardened mercenaries.

  Finally exhausted by my attempts at extracting information, I decide to focus on a more personal situation. I choose my words carefully, clear my throat, and then glance at Thrase.

  “Did I upset you?” I ask her.

  I definitely haven’t chosen the right timing, as the shouts from all the vendors drown out my voice. I’m forced to repeat myself, and this time I raise my voice so she can hear me.

  “Are you upset with something?” I ask, squeezing myself past a group of mean-looking Vakutan. One of them has a scar while the other has some kind of cybernetic prosthetic hand. They look like stereotypical hired muscle, and so I lead us away from them.

  Now far from the Vakutan, I glance at Thrase, but she doesn’t even bother with returning my gaze. She just keeps on walking straight ahead, her eyes somewhere in the distance. At first, I think she’s eyeing a stall with a lot of antique books propped up on a wooden plank, a human vendor perched on a stool inside the shop, but I quickly realize she’s making a conscious effort not to acknowledge me.

  “Not really,” she finally says after almost ten seconds. Shrugging, she tilts her chin toward an alley to our left, and we make our way there, moving away from the chaos of dozens upon dozens of vendors shouting about their discounted wares. “Why would I be upset?”

  “I don’t know,” I say, slightly upset to feel this clueless about things. There’s nothing more annoying than facing an equation and having no idea on how to solve it. Usually, a good textbook helps, but not when dealing with human females. Women should definitely come with a manual. They might have less moving parts than a fusion reactor, but they sure as hell are harder to understand. “Maybe it’s about us kissing. Are you upset about that?”

  “We didn’t kiss,” she says, and this time she looks back at me over her shoulder. There’s a certain tightness around her lips, but I can’t read her expression. Thrase has become an enigma. “Besides, there’s nothing to it. Our hormones were doing their job. That’s all there is to it. It’s just a chemical reaction honed over millions of years of evolution. There’s nothing to be upset about.”

  “You are correct.” Pursing my lips, I decide not to debate it. It’s not like I can tell her she’s wrong because she most definitely isn’t. Thing is, I don’t think I agree with her limited assessment of what happened.

  Whatever is between us might be rooted in some evolutionary chemical reaction, but it isn’t something you can merely shrug off. The pull of a jalshagar is irresistible. Except, of course, she might not be my jalshagar. As much as I suspect that to be the case, this cold behavior of hers has me second-guessing my hypothesis. If only we had kissed, I would know for sure what’s going on here.

  We spend the next couple of minutes ambling through a maze of alleyways, and we do it in complete silence. In the distance, the harbor bell rings again, its sound a reminder of our mission here. When the ringing stops, though, the silence between us quickly returns.

  It’s maddening.

  It feels like there’s an itch on my mind, and it’s one I can’t quite scratch. Besides, it doesn’t help that there doesn’t seem to be anything irregular about these city streets. We came in here looking for clues, but it seems likely we’ll return to the Queen empty handed.

  “You have to wonder why Kintar thought we’d need him down here,” I say, an attempt at dispelling the silence between us. “The muscle-head only wanted to strut around and look tough.”

  Suddenly, Thrase freezes on her tracks.

  She turns around slowly, looks at me for a second, and then sighs heavily. She looks disappointed, although I can’t tell why.

  “You just don’t get it. Do you?” she asks me, and I just blink at her. I’m so damn confused right now. What in the galaxy am I not getting? “Kintar wasn’t the one looking to bolster his ego. You were, Zander. He came to offer his help, and you immediately puffed out your chest and put on a show of strength. I mean, was that macho bullshit really necessary?”

  I open my mouth to protest, but then close it shut. Thrase isn’t wrong. I did get defensive when Kintar started riling me up. Even though I didn’t do it on purpose, part of me knows that I wanted to impress her. I wasn’t going to let someone like Kintar make a fool out of me in front of her. Well, I guess my on-the-fly plan backfired.

  “Look,” Thrase continues, realizing she has left me at a loss for words. “You don’t need to impress me, alright? Your work ethic and your intelligence have already done that. I don’t need you to act like a chest-thumping primate in order for me to like you.”

  My breath catches in my throat.

  Did I hear it right?

  “Wait, you like me?”

  She opens her mouth to reply, but no words come out. Instead, her eyes widen suddenly, and her gaze flies over my shoulder and at something behind me. When I turn around to see what she’s looking at, all I see are the two Vakutan from before rushing down the alleyway.

  I try to reach for my pistol, but they’re already too close. Before I can do a damn thing about it, the Vakutan with the cyber hand holds his gun and shoots, hitting me straight in the chest. For a moment, I think I’m done for, but then feel a powerful surge of electricity running through my body. The bastard didn’t shoot to kill. Instead, he used the paralyzer mode in his gun to knock me out.

  I’ll only be paralyzed for about two minutes, but that means I won’t be able to protect Thrase. Whatever happens next, she’ll have to handle it on her own. Unless, of course, I can somehow force myself out of this paralysis.

  Shit, these are going to be two long minutes.

  Chapter Six

  Thrase

  “Don’t come any closer, or I’ll shoot.”

  Bold words considering I’ve yet to eve
n draw my weapon. Back pedaling on instinct from the two massively muscled, ridge-faced warriors, my hand fumbles for the handle but I can’t quite seem to grasp with my trembling fingers.

  The one with a scar down his cheek sneers, his lips curling back from row upon row of razor-sharp teeth.

  “Shoot me with what? You’re too much of a coward to even draw your weapon.”

  His fellow with a cyber hand chuckles as he runs his bleary-eyed gaze up and down my body in a way that gives me chills for all the wrong reasons.

  “I’d say this human is built more for love than war.”

  I finally manage to draw my weapon, and point it at cyber hand since he’s moved in closer.

  “That’s far enough.”

  They pause in their advance, eyes growing narrow and crafty. Scar face peers intently at my weapon and then lowers his own, laughing derisively.

  “She hasn’t even got the safety turned off. She’s not shooting a damn thing.”

  I lift the barrel of the gun away from him in a panic, checking to see how I can turn the safety off. That’s when his arm darts out faster than a striking serpent and knocks the pistol right out of my grip.

  “Ha. That model doesn’t even have a safety, stupid shortspan. It’s called the Gunslinger’s special for a reason.”

  Now I’m in a real panic. Miss smartest woman in the room disarmed by a simple trick. I can’t see beyond their hulking forms, so I don’t even know if Zander is still alive. Even if he is, he apparently isn’t in any shape to offer assistance.

  They continue moving in on me, sheathing their weapons. They probably figure they don’t need them for an unarmed human woman half their size. I hate the fact they’re probably right about that.