The Admiral and the Wildcat: Scifi Alien Romance

by Mina Carter

  “Doesn’t surprise me.” She turned, dropped down into one of the side seats and looked at him in expectation. “Okay, handsome. How about we go through your schedule?”

  Sensing he wasn’t going to get anything else out of her on a personal level, Gabe sat and started to talk.

  * * *

  It hadn’t taken long for him to go through his schedule and preferred ways of working with Vann. She’d sat silently and attentively as he spoke, occasionally making notes—actual handwritten notes—in a small notepad she’d pulled from her pants pocket. He’d tried to get a look at what she was writing but it was all in the same loops and swirls that covered her arms. Saragosian script. Which he couldn’t read. Neither, apparently, could the computer, giving him a “language not present” error when he snapped a picture of her arm with his flex pad from across the cabin.

  Sighing, he dropped it to his lap and studied her.

  In the hours since they’d gotten underway for their rendezvous with the Renegade, she’d plotted their course with the pilot, studied a schematic of the ship they were headed to, spoken to someone on the comm link in a language he couldn’t understand even with the translator switched on, and exercised.

  He shifted position, bringing his leg across his lap. Somehow, even in the confined space of the flyer, she’d managed to work her entire body in a routine that was a work of art. Gabe was used to working out. He’d been a marine before he’d switched career tracks and gone into law, so he was no stranger to the gym, but the bodyweight routine Vann had used would test even his endurance, never mind his balance. But to watch…all that satin skin and sleek muscle, the curves of her body as she twisted and turned… was a sensual pleasure he hadn’t anticipated.

  Moving position again, he tried to ease the pressure on his rock-hard cock in the tight uniform pants. He needed to get laid, and soon. But not Vann… bedding a Saragosian would be like sleeping with a praying mantis. She was sexy but lethal. He couldn’t afford to get distracted with her, not when she was in Rhade’s pay.

  But fuck did he want to…

  “It looked clean enough,” he commented when she pulled her pistol from its holster and started to strip it. A small cleaning kit was set on the seat next to her, her hands moving with the kind of confidence that said she’d stripped the weapon many times. She looked up, still breaking the pistol down, and gave a little smile.

  “Never let a weapon get dirty. You never know when it might save your life.” Her voice was quiet and melodic with a small burr in it that suggested fatigue. No evidence of that showed in her face or her eyes though. Perhaps her kind didn’t need as much sleep as humans?

  “You’ve done that a lot.” He had no idea why he kept talking, but he did. The analytical part of his brain informed him that forging a connection with her was good. She was in charge of protecting him, after all. The little head readily agreed with that, but less because of her role as his bodyguard and more because it was wholly interested in keeping her around, preferably with fewer clothes on.

  “Just a time or two.” She nodded and he couldn’t look away from her hands. They were delicate but strong at the same time, moving with assurance as she started to clean the pistol. He’d seen similar weapons on other Saragosians. They definitely weren’t fleet issue, nor a maker he knew.

  “Went to the front line when I was nine. Saw action within a week.” Her words took him by surprise—personal information he hadn’t asked for, but wasn’t going to refuse to learn about her. She lifted a hand, clenching her fist. “Earned my first dot within two.”

  The backs of her hands were covered with the same kinds of marks that crawled up her arms and onto her shoulders. There were two dots and a whole bunch of ornate looking swirls across her knuckles on both sides.

  “A dot is like a rank marking?”

  “Yup.” She started to put the weapon in her lap back together. “One dot outline, then two, then the swirls around them. After that, the dots are filled in one by one, to this…” She nodded toward her hands. “Double swirls and dots mean Lead Warrior. After Lead, if you’re lucky enough and live long enough, there’s an extra dot and swirl for Warlord. It’s the highest rank we have.”

  Gabe nodded, sliding forward to the edge of his seat with interest. So she was highly ranked in her own culture. That made sense with the way she moved. “Warlord? You mentioned you were here on orders of your warlord, as a favour to Rhade. Does he know her?”

  Vann snorted, finished putting the pistol back together, and slid it back into her thigh holster with a “snick.”

  “She’s female. My father knows pretty much everyone female. He’s a total manwhore.”

  * * *

  Buchanan was…unsettling.

  Kelis watched him out of the corner of her eye as she lay on her back across three seats opposite where he was working. Now that his anger had receded and that sharp focus was aimed at something other than her, she took her time assessing him. He was a lawyer, that much she knew from reading his file, but since her culture was war-based, the intricacies of what he did eluded her a little. Apparently he was in charge of fighting for, or against, someone, but with words and rules.

  He’d make an amazing warrior… The thought popped up out of nowhere, but she had to admit that he would. Now that he’d taken off his uniform jacket, his undershirt had moulded itself to the hard muscles of his chest and shoulders. She found herself having trouble looking away from the strength of his hands as he rifled through documents to read them. His expression was intent, the almost feline-like eyes focused…

  On her.

  She jumped as she realised that somewhere in her musings, he’d stopped reading and started watching her back. His lips curled slightly.

  “Let me guess, you were always front line troops, not infiltration?”

  “Nope.” Cover blown, she sat up and rifled a hand through her blonde hair. “Wrong colouring for it. Vann women are distinctive.”

  “You can say that again. Are you married?”

  She blinked at the rough question, watching as he put his files aside. Damn, when he looked at her like that—so intent, so focused—she had trouble thinking straight. Had he slipped something in her drink earlier when she wasn’t looking?

  Never one to back down from a challenge, she shot back instead of answering. “Are you?”

  His lips compressed, as though the idea was unpalatable. “Used to be. Not anymore.”

  Unbidden, relief washed over her. She knew about humans and their marriages. They did the whole married to one person at one time thing, not like the more sensible Saragosian way of multiple marriages. Although…if she had a man like this, she wouldn’t want to share him. Ever.

  He stood, looming over her and suddenly the cabin, which had felt spacious, felt way too small. She glanced to the side. The door to the pilot’s cabin was shut. No one would disturb them.

  “Worried about being alone with me?” He’d stood, so she did as well. Tension mounted in the room, arcing between them.

  “No.” She wasn’t. He couldn’t hurt her, even if he’d been trained from birth as a warrior, and somehow, deep down, she knew he wouldn’t. He wasn’t that kind of man. She lifted her chin and met his eyes. “You worried about being alone with me? I am a trained killer after all.”

  He didn’t answer, instead reaching out to wind a blonde curl around his forefinger. Holding it captive, he tugged her gently toward him. “Oh, I don’t think you’re here to kill me. I think you have other things on your mind.”

  Other things? She frowned, but the thought was knocked from her mind when his mouth covered hers. Slow. Gentle. The merest brush of his lips against hers brought all her defences crashing down. He tantalised her senses and bypassed all her safeguards as he tilted his head and kissed her again.

  That was incredible. A small moan echoed in the back of her throat and she moved closer, turning her head to deepen the kiss. All the men she’d known were brash and, while not rough, were not s
oft. Softness had been scoured out of them as a species centuries ago. Sex was not about softness. It was about the challenge and ensuring the next generation. Foreplay was…swift and always leading up to the main event.

  This was…not.

  He slid a large hand into the hair at the nape of her neck and tilted her head back. He sipped at her lips with butterfly-soft kisses that seemed to want nothing more than to explore. To taste. To savour.

  Slowly he drew back and looked down at her. She sucked in a breath, shivering as she realised just how big he really was. Like the wit and intelligence had stopped her seeing the power in his frame. Brawn and brain all in one package didn’t happen often, but he was it.

  “Sweet and soft,” he said, his voice rough.

  His pupils were dilated, his blue eyes holding her captive as his thumb stroked her cheek gently. She bit her lip, trying to keep her reaction to him under control. She’d never felt such an ache for a man before. Ever. Not that she was inexperienced. She’d had her fair share of lovers, but none had made even half the impression this man did.

  “You know if you do that…” he moved closer, easing her smaller body against the hard plains of his. “Then I have to do this…”

  His lips covered hers, harder this time. A low rumble in the back of his throat, he swept his tongue over her full lower lip as his hand tightened in her hair. A demand for access. Without thinking, she opened for him. His tongue thrust past her lips, seeking and twining with hers. Heat hit her like a laser blast, seeking out and destroying all her defences.

  A moan in the back of her throat, she moved closer. She pressed her curves, meagre as they were, against him. Her hands spread out over his broad chest, and a thrill shot through her at the solidity she felt there. Need thrilled through her veins, settling low between her legs and reminding her that it had been a long time since the last midsummer festival. Nearly a year…

  The door to the pilot’s cabin slid open suddenly, making them jump apart as the pilot called through. “We’re about to enter the Jerinas Centauri system, sir. Ten minutes to touchdown.”

  4

  “Since the defendant has already admitted to breaking several critical regulations by bypassing security systems to maximise his department’s KPIs, and given his standing as Chief Engineer of many years’ experience, you cannot seriously be telling me that he was unaware of the safety aspects of his decisions?”

  Kelis stood to the side of the courtroom, her hands clasped loosely in front of her as she watched Buchanan at work. She’d thought before that he would make a formidable warrior, and now, watching him, she realised that she was right. In more ways than one.

  Physically, he was a powerful man. If she had to guess, she’d say that he’d definitely seen combat action somewhere before he’d put on the fancy suit he wore now. Then there was that suit. Most fleet officers she’d had dealings with wore their uniforms like armour and as a method to intimidate those around them. Not this man. At Buchanan’s rank, the amount of braid and bling on the collar should have had most people in the courtroom running for cover, but instead, he wore a smart suit. Obviously a very expensive suit, but it wasn’t a uniform.

  She’d wondered at that when they’d walked in. Born during a war, she’d been brought up on a battlefield, so fighting ran in her blood. A smart warrior used every weapon he had at his disposal…usually. Now though, she understood.

  Admiral Gabriel Buchanan didn’t need to intimidate anyone with his clothing. He could do that all by himself. With one look. And when he opened his mouth… She didn’t understand all these rules and regulations he quoted, but the fact that he did, and knew how they worked off each other, was evident. As was his disdain for the man on trial, a chief engineer who had taken shortcuts with fatal results. A young woman in his department had been killed, leaving behind a young son.

  “With respect, ma’am,” he nodded to the judge. Kelis had asked him about that, since her file said he too was a judge. Apparently he also operated as a lawyer, taking on unusual cases across the systems. “That is total bullshit. I put it to you that not only was Commander Chambers aware of the risks, but he actively put Ensign Rogett in harm’s way because she had rejected his advances. Advances that were inappropriate given his position as her superior officer. All members of Alliance Fleet have the right to a safe working environment free from personal hazards and harassment, not just those of higher rank.”

  He turned to the jury. “Ladies and gentlemen, Ensign Sara Rogett did not have that safe environment. Not anywhere near. Because she was afraid of retaliation from Commander Chambers, she entered the maintenance tubes on the morning of the accident without checking the system logs as she normally would have. Maintenance tubes in that area, which had had the personnel warning systems deliberately deactivated.”

  He moved to the centre of the room and waved his hand. At his signal, the holographic display on the wall to the left of where Kelis stood lit up. She couldn’t properly see what it was from this angle, just enough to know he was showing them schematics. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t here to discover the inner workings of Alliance Fleet ships. She was here for one reason and one reason only, protecting Buchanan.

  At Buchanan’s insistence, she wore a suit not unlike his, although hers was tailored to her figure. Her pulse pistol was concealed in a shoulder holster beneath the weighted jacket, a fact she wasn’t happy about. She didn’t like concealed weaponry, nor not having her tattoos on display.

  If people see you, a Saragosian warrior, by my side, they will assume that I am worried about something, he’d explained. I prefer to keep my cards close to my chest to keep people guessing. If your abilities become necessary, I would prefer them to be a complete surprise to our opponents. Wouldn’t you?

  Put like that, it made sense, a tactical awareness that she hadn’t expected from a man who spent most of his time in rooms like this. The fact that he’d said “our opponents” sent a little thrill through her. The fact that he’d grouped them together automatically making her foolish heart beat a little faster.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, these are the systems that detect the presence of personnel and shut down the automatic cleaning systems in the event of anyone in the tubes. Cleaning systems that use lasers and automatic venting to clear the tubes of any vermin, most notably, spacial arachnids that might have nested in them.”

  He paced, the entire room watching him. “Lasers. Sara Rogett met her death in a net of lasers that cut her body into small enough cubes for the venting system to clear from the ship.” The display flashed a bright red flare across the image. To the last person, the jury flinched.

  “She was sliced to pieces, her body unrecoverable.” Buchanan slashed his hand through the air, pointing at the defendant. “All because of this man.”

  All eyes in the room turned to Chambers. Even hers for a moment before she returned to her perusal of the room. The tension was palpable and the looks Chambers got were not friendly. He apparently knew it as well. A bead of sweat broke away from his hairline and rolled down his face.

  “Mr. Buchanan,” the voice of the judge drew everyone’s attention. “Do you have questions for the defendant?”

  He drew himself up to his full height, treated Chambers to the full weight of his stare for long enough that Kelis swore the guy was about to crack and confess to anything just to get out of the room, then shook his head.

  “No, Your Honour. I’m aware that the hour is late and these good people have sat in the same place all day listening to the opening arguments. With the greatest of respect, may I suggest a recess until the morning?”

  The judge may have been the woman in charge in the courtroom, but even Kelis was under no illusions about who held the real power here. So it came as no surprise when the judge nodded. “An excellent idea, Mr. Buchanan. We will return to this tomorrow morning. The session is closed.”

  Kelis waited to the side as Buchanan gathered what he needed and then followed him from the room. H
is long-limbed stride was fast and she was forced to hurry hers to keep up.

  “Why did you do that?” she queried when they reached the lift. “He was already sweating; you could have cracked him easily if you’d carried on.”

  Personally, she’d have preferred to find the guy down a back alley somewhere to mete out justice for that poor woman with her fists. No woman should fear for her safety in that manner, ever, much less end up dead over it.

  “He would have. It was easy to see he was dreading me questioning him, and rightly so. I don’t intend to go easy on him.” Buchanan leaned against the lift wall opposite. It was a casual lounge that did nothing to hide the power of his physique. The smart suit jacket was undone now, and the shirt beneath pulled across his heavily muscled chest in ways she tried very hard to ignore. She was his bodyguard. It wasn’t professional. Not at all.

  “But why limit his misery?” A wicked little gleam lit Buchanan’s eyes. “Now he has a whole evening and night to worry about what I’m going to ask him. An entire evening and night to anticipate and dread walking into that courtroom tomorrow. Sure, some would consider that cruel, but I’m sorry, I’m not here to make things easy for him.”

  Wow. Just wow.

  Kelis blinked as she realised he was as ruthless as any warrior, any warlord, she’d ever met. And in his culture, at his rank, she realised he was the equal of a warlord. No man got to the rank he had without a lot of hard work and dedication as well as being shit hot at what he did.

  The lift pinged, announcing their arrival, and they stepped out. Buchanan indicated she should precede him. Not that she’d have let him exit first anyway, but the gesture was so gentlemanly that she understood why so many of her fellow warriors went gaga over human men. They were deliciously polite. And sexy. She couldn’t get the way Buchanan moved out of her head, and the little curve of his lips when he smiled sent shivers right down her spine.