He stared at his nude form in the bathing chamber mirror. Not one stitch of clothing available for him to put on anywhere in the head. “This is so ridiculous.”
There had to be something in the main cabin. Bedding or something. Gods, anything.
Adjust. Adapt. Accept. He could only work with what he had.
Reentering the control room, the first thing he noted was Zana’s blouse lying on the command chair. She stood beside it, her bare back to him. His gaze locked on to the ivory expanse of skin.
“Look, I’m all for alternate lifestyles. I mean I can probably adapt, with time.” She turned to display perfect, rosy tipped breasts. “But it’s going to take a bit. I thought maybe we could just start here.”
There was no controlling it. His body tightened as desire rolled over him. His cock rose to full-staff. He forced himself to turn away. Somehow he managed to keep his voice even. “What are you doing?”
Her tone remained tentative yet determined. “Well, I know you probably don’t believe me, but you and I are destined to be together, so I thought I’d try to adapt a little to your lifestyle. I mean, I’m not ready to go all the way yet, but, you know, this could be a compromise.”
What the hell was she talking about?
“Oh, you have really nice hair. What was that stuff you had in it, some kind of infection?”
He put his hand to his hair. It did feel good to have it clean at last. “That was shampoo. Your transporter pulled me out of the shower.”
“The shower?” Humor colored her tone. “Oh, gods.”
He craned his neck to stare into her eyes while still keeping his pulsing erection turned from her. “What did you think?”
Her giggle bubbled into a full belly laugh.
Infected by her mirth, humor rose inside Kyle as well, though he wasn’t sure what was so funny.
“Out of . . . shower . . .” She’d fallen back into the command chair by the time he turned completely around. She held her stomach. Tears brimmed her eyes. “You mean . . . you’re not a . . . Oh, gods, I’m such an idiot.”
Nothing brought down an erection faster than a good belly laugh, and despite how wonderfully her breasts jiggled as she rolled in the chair, the tension broke and the pressure in Kyle’s balls eased.
Gods, she was adorable.
“What did you think?” he asked between chuckles, fighting to gain control. How long had it been since he’d really laughed?
Zana pulled herself together enough to grab up her blouse and wipe the tears from her eyes, then held the material over her breasts. “Even our backward planet hasn’t used showers in decades. It never occurred to me. I thought you were a nudist.”
Her confession caused another fit of uncontrollable laughter to roll over him.
She really was just too darn cute.
Chapter 4
“The gods have granted you a piece of a star.” Kyle presented Merng, the roo leader, with the solar lantern. “Simply push here on the magic wand to bring forth the power of the star and light your way in the night.”
Many of the Core Worlds’ scientists studying the roos believed, given enough time, they would evolve along the same line as humans, though at a much faster pace given the backbone of invention left behind on the planet when humans took to the stars.
Since the timber-culling incident, the roos had been left on their own to evolve as they chose. Humans hadn’t interfered.
Until now.
How his gift would affect them, Kyle couldn’t say, but at least this group appeared mollified.
Merng pushed the button and the device lit. The other roos oohed, some of them taking a step back from their leader.
Holding the lit solar lantern high in the air, Merng hopped excitedly. “See the magic of the gods in Merng’s hand. I be grateful, God of Thunder.”
“Go now, Merng, blessed of the gods. Lead your people well.” Kyle hoped he wasn’t laying it on too thick. “But you are charged with protecting this, the holy grounds, from invasion of other roos.”
It never hurt to have a few extra eyes around, even if they were roo eyes.
As the roos hopped away, Kyle turned his attention to Zana. A mischievous half-smile played across her luscious lips. Did she have any idea how much trouble she was in?
Probably not.
He motioned her into the ship and closed the access hatch. “Now, let’s discuss your teleporter.”
He was ticking off things on his mental priorities list, and finding a pair of pants was definitely next, but this took precedence. It wasn’t like he had anything left to hide from her.
Control the situation first, then take care of personal needs.
Maybe he could use the teleporter to send a message off world for a retrieval ship, though he hadn’t noted any machinery or even a control panel around the tree he’d been brought to. How had she managed that?
In any case, this tree needed a full investigation. He’d never encountered a teleportation device with anywhere near that range. The current, industrial teleporters could move merchandise between nearby planets. Maybe a couple dozen light-years or so. Thelbous 2 was easily twenty-five-thousand light-years from Old Earth.
Zana shrugged and plopped down into a seat. “I don’t have a teleporter.”
Gods, her eyes, so wide with innocence.
Kyle had seen enough guilty eyes to be pretty sure. Of course, Zana could be one of those rare consummate actress cases, but he didn’t get that vibe from her.
“I got here somehow.” He wasn’t about to let her off the hook. Someone had done something to bring him here.
“Yeah, well, blame the tree. It was supposed to send me to you.”
And she expected him to just buy that? What game was she playing?
She scrunched her nose and shook her head. “Now we’re both screwed.”
Screwed had way too many connotations to allow his mind to wander down those roads. “Why me? You seemed to believe we have some kind of connection. Have we met before?”
He’d certainly have remembered her.
“Look, I know this is going to sound far-fetched.” She puffed out her cheeks and shook her head. “That tree out there is magical. My uncle told me about it. He used it to find my aunt. They call it the Soul Mate Tree and it brings together two people who are supposed to be together. Supposed to fall in love.”
Kyle raised his hands and took a step back. “Whoa, whoa. Are you telling me you’re in love with me?”
This was getting ridiculous.
“Of course not. I barely know you. We just met.” That shy smile again, and her eyes dropped . . . right to his crotch. “Though I do already like you.”
By the gods, this woman was brazen.
Still, Kyle had to admit, he’d already found a lot to like about her as well. Her impishly free spirit had him wondering what her lips tasted like. And the further down that road his mind went, the more his cock responded.
Now he definitely needed to take some time to look for a pair of pants.
“You wouldn’t happen to have any extra clothing lying around, would you?” If he couldn’t control his cock, he needed to restrain it.
Her eyes snapped back up to his, her cheeks coloring. “I’m sorry. It’s just that it’s so—”
He didn’t dare let her go there. “Do you have any clothing onboard that might fit me?”
“Um.” She spun away, heading toward the back storage lockers. “Let’s go see.”
Rummaging through the first locker, Kyle found a pair of black fatigue pants slightly larger than his size. At that moment the extra room, especially in the crotch, was a welcome relief. He cinched the magna belt to tighten them around his waist.
The next locker yielded a pair of resizable boot
s. He adjusted the size and pulled them on. He’d built tough calluses on the soles of his feet over the years. He’d sometimes had to go barefoot for long periods while undercover. Still, the boots gave him a measure of comfort and safety.
The two shirts he found, however, turned out to be too disgusting for even his lowered standards. Grime encrusted, the garments reeked of sweat, vomit, and alcohol. Going undercover to infiltrate an enemy often forced him to wear numerous disguises, some fairly disgusting. But these shirts? When he didn’t have to?
No, thanks.
He did find a less filthy vest that was at least serviceable, giving him a few extra pockets, not that he had anything to put in them.
It occurred to him all the items in both lockers had been decidedly masculine. A laser face razor, cheap men’s musk cologne, a box of male prophylactics.
“Isn’t this your ship?” He’d hate to have to add grand theft starship to her list of crimes.
Zana took a deep breath. Her eyes narrowed and her jaw set. “Mine by rights of salvage.”
A rim rat’s idea of rights of salvage probably differed a bit from the legal definition. Kyle was willing to bet the proper paperwork hadn’t been filed with her nearest Central Starship Clearing and Licensing facility. Though to be honest, her nearest CSCL facility would be quite a few parsecs away from the galactic rim.
A clip on the side of one of the lockers held dozens of electronic identification badges. Each featured the same holographic image but held a different name. The face was one Kyle recognized immediately. Stephan Grey, thief, con man, smuggler. He’d been on the Galactic Marshals’ Top One-Hundred Wanted list for over a decade for murder, larceny, and a string of other crimes against the galaxy.
If Zana stole this ship from Grey, stranding him on some isolated rim world planet, she’d done the galaxy a favor.
“And the previous owner?” He needed to ask. At the first opportunity he’d need to send a team in to capture the man.
“Dead at the controls when I found the ship.” She stepped back from her locker inspection. “I never really went through his stuff.”
Kyle held up one of the identification cards. “Was this him?”
She perused the hologram. “I think so. He wasn’t in very good shape when I found him. I think he died on impact. If not, he probably didn’t suffer long.”
The galactic gods had been kinder to Stephan Grey than he deserved. It would be nice to cross him off the most wanted list.
But even if Zana hadn’t actually stolen the ship, she wasn’t the legal owner either. So she’d taken an unlicensed starship into an interdicted system and landed on a forbidden planet. Reason enough for him to take her in. There were also restrictions on interfering with the roos. He’d have to check into that once he had her arrested and secured.
Kyle’s vision blurred, his mind spun. He’d been on his feet too long, awake well over fifty hours. As he sagged, he grasped the side of the locker door for support. He’d reached his limit—even adrenaline couldn’t keep him on his feet.
“Are you okay?” Zana’s tone held concern. He was finding it hard not to like her and that really conflicted with the criminal case he was building against her. He’d ponder that when he had a clearer mind.
“Just tired. I need a couple hours’ sleep.” He staggered to the back of the compartment and punched the button to slide out the ship’s compact bed.
Gears ground as the bed haltingly extended from the wall about a third of a meter before stopping completely.
Kyle growled at it, snatched up the pillow and blanket, and slid to the floor. “Wake me if anything happens.”
Zana took a step back as Kyle threw himself down. His head hit the pillow, the blanket pooled at his side. A soft snore issued from his lips almost the moment he hit the floor.
Wow. He must have been dead on his feet.
He’d looked it.
His features relaxed. So handsome, even in repose.
She crouched down to pull the blanket over his bulky frame. Gods, his bod was so insanely ripped, she hated to hide him, but she sure as hell didn’t want him getting sick on her.
She stepped back, her eyes never leaving his slumbering form, and plunked down into the command chair.
Was this guy truly hers for the taking? And what did it mean to be someone’s soul mate anyway? Wouldn’t he be as attracted to her as she was to him?
And she was attracted to him, on a level she’d never experienced before. Butterflies erupted in her stomach even as her mouth dried and warning tingles invaded her mind. Her core clenched. Her body wanted something she knew she wasn’t supposed to want. Something she wasn’t ready for.
Was this part of the magic?
A month ago she hadn’t even believed in magic. Now she was putting way too much faith in it.
She certainly hadn’t been looking for love, just a way off the planet. Now she had this guy, supposedly fuckin’ tailor-made for her, just ready to start hauling out the trash and milking cows.
Of course, they’d need some cows first.
Gods, she was being so selfish. What about him?
She’d dragged him naked across the galaxy into a dangerous situation. She certainly hadn’t done anything to ingratiate herself to him. If they ever got out of here, he’d be well within his rights to walk away and never look back.
Her stomach rumbled. Her mind a whirl, she reached into her bag for a kelp bar. When her teeth crunched down on the rough texture the briny juices spurted onto her tongue.
“Yuck.”
She pulled the bar out of her mouth and stared at it. Here she was, on a planet full of fresh food options, and she was eating kelp. “I’m so stupid.”
She threw the bar back in her pouch, rose, and exited the ship.
Chapter 5
Kyle woke, cautiously opening one eye to check his situation. Years undercover provided a myriad of lessons, including don’t move until you know the lay of the land. He held himself still, accumulating all the data he could before even twitching a muscle.
He scanned the bridge of the craft. The command chair sat empty, and the control panel still blinked with red warning lights. No immediate danger came into view.
He relaxed his vigilance enough to assess himself.
Rested, his mind clear, he’d definitely gotten a few hours of deep sleep. His shoulder ached from the injuries obtained on his prior mission, but not as much as it had previously.
Kyle sat up and pushed back the blanket. The oily, burnt stench continued to hang heavy in the air, a product of the crash and disrepair of the craft, but a savory scent wafted into the cabin, along with fresh air, through the open hatch to the outside.
His stomach growled and he rose to track the source of the aroma. Something outside smelled incredibly edible.
Through the open hatchway he spotted Zana squatting beside an open fire pit. The curve of her shapely ass pulled his attention instantly and he had to wrench his gaze away.
A framework of twisted metal suspended a large brownish lump of something directly over flaming scraps of wood. Zana had rigged a power module to slowly turn the strange substance over the fire.
As it turned, fluids dripped from it to the fire below. With each drip, succulent aromas sizzled into the air.
“What are you doing?” He kept his tone level, inquiring, trying to put a friendly timbre in his voice.
Still, Zana jumped and spun. “Shit, damn, fuck, you scared the hell out of me.”
The woman swore like a fleetsman. Why did that make her all the more appealing? There was something very genuine about her.
He couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face. “Sorry.”
Her eyes brightened. “You’re awake. Excellent. The chicken is almost ready to eat.”
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Kyle strode down the exit ramp. “You found a way to produce mock chicken without using a food replicator?”
The sheer ingenuity of that rocked him back on his heels. Maybe she could repair the ship.
Zana shook her head. “You Core Worlders and your machines. On Konga 10 we don’t replicate food, we cook it.”
She used a pair of insulated spacewalk gloves to pull the sizzling lump from the metal skewer and slide it onto a platter. “I killed and prepared a real chicken. There are plenty running around here.”
She was pulling his leg. “Not possible. Chickens died out during the twenty-second century avian extinctions.”
With the invention of food replicators, actual cooking fell into a hobby-type activity, but there had been a time when almost every exotic protein-based food substance was described as tasting like chicken.
Food scientists had been trying to replicate the taste of the now extinct bird for decades—find a program for food replicators that really did taste like chicken. Dozens of mock chicken recipe programs existed, though no one now knew if any of them tasted even remotely like the original food source.
No one in the Core Worlds at least.
“Ha.” Zana poked a large fork into her chicken, and used a long knife to slice off some chunks of the savory smelling substance. “The extinctions didn’t reach out to the rim. Old Earth avoided that mess. Konga 10 as well. Hell, we had huge flocks of ‘em until a few months ago. If you Core Worlders had even bothered to check with us rim rats, we’d have been glad to resupply you with the real thing.”
“Real chicken?” Could it actually be?
Culinary science had long been about what could be built from the cheap and easily accessible lacto-proteins grown in vats and used by food replicators. Most chefs Kyle was familiar with had stopped looking for new ingredients to cook with. There were only a few high-end restaurants that even featured prime foods on their menu any more, and the costs for those were astronomical.
Between Venus & Mars (The Soul Mate Tree Book 3) Page 4
