Zakota: Star Guardians, Book 5

by Ruby Lionsdrake

  “You better go too,” Orion told Katie, walking back from the airlock by himself.

  He and Juanita had kissed before she waved goodbye and disappeared through the tube. Off to sickbay. For safety.

  Katie grimaced, not that interested in hiding under a desk or exam table. She would much rather lie in wait somewhere unexpected, a weapon in hand and ready to spring an ambush. Too bad nobody had offered to bring her any combat armor.

  “Yeah,” Katie said in vague agreement since Orion had paused in front of her.

  He smiled, patted her on the shoulder, and returned to the group of men. They were arguing about the best targets on a Zi’i warrior’s body to kill him.

  Katie considered the airlock tube, the path to the fire falcon, and she also looked toward the corridor that led deeper into the Zi’i warship. Did it truly matter where she went? It would be easier for some lowly ensign to keep count of the women if they were all in one place, but Katie would prefer to use her time practicing on the shuttle flight simulator. Or maybe even learning how to fly the warship itself. It wouldn’t be quite as exciting as piloting the sleek fire falcon, but she imagined liking having all that power and mass under her control.

  When the men all had their backs to her, she stuck her hands in her pockets again and strolled toward the corridor. She expected one of them to shout at her, or for Orion to come over, sling an arm around her shoulder, and gently steer her to the fire falcon, as he’d done with Juanita.

  But their argument had grown quite heated, a debate between targeting eyes and targeting Zi’i genitalia, and nobody noticed her.

  “The story of my life,” she whispered.

  She slipped into the corridor. She considered heading to the shuttle bay, but Zakota was up on the bridge now—she’d heard he would pilot the warship for the battle. Would he send her away if she showed up there? Or might he appreciate some company?

  Even though she knew she had a better chance of being ignored and forgotten if she went to the shuttle bay, she turned into the lift when she reached it. She tapped the glowing bar that marked the bridge level. Would the combat team come up there eventually, or would they stay down by the airlock? She imagined Orion frowning sternly if he found her still aboard. But for some reason, she felt certain Zakota would be glad to see her. He might even spread his arms for a welcoming hug.

  The doors opened, and Katie stepped onto the bridge for the first time.

  Zakota sat on a makeshift stool in front of a console in the center of the roundish room, his scrimshaw kit spread out over some of the controls. He was carving some alien equivalent of an ivory tusk.

  “I see you’re prepared to fly into battle at any second,” she said, walking off the lift.

  He blinked in surprise, jumped off the stool, and pulled a flap over his project. “We’re untethering and heading toward the gate in two minutes. Why are you still here?”

  So much for a welcoming hug.

  “I thought you might want some company,” Katie said. “It’s a ways to the gate, isn’t it?”

  “Uhm.” Zakota looked toward the view screen at the front of the bridge—it happened to be focused on the wing-shaped fire falcon. Maybe he was imagining being reamed by his captain. She was on the verge of waving and stepping back into the lift, when he stood up and said, “Only two hours, but sure, come on over. I owe you a piloting lesson, I believe.”

  “You’re still going to tutor me?” Katie asked, fingers curling into a triumphant fist. “Even though you know that my skills will quickly surpass yours, as they did in the shuttle?”

  “How did you surpass me?”

  “It was when you were unconscious. Everyone said how much better my piloting was than yours.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Well, they would have said that if they hadn’t been cradling your head and being relieved you didn’t have hair to catch on fire.”

  He leaned on the stool. “I was going to let you sit here, but now I’m not so sure.”

  “It doesn’t look like much of an improvement over the box.”

  “I made that box myself.”

  “Maybe you should have had Hierax help.”

  He stared at her for a moment, and she worried she’d taken the teasing a step too far, but then he grinned. “You are definitely a pilot.”

  “This is what I’ve been telling you.”

  Zakota stepped aside and gestured for her to take the stool. “What we really need is a chance to race. It’s impossible to compare our skills when we’re taking turns at the helm.”

  “And you’re unconscious.”

  “Yes, my skills aren’t at their best then.”

  “Wuss.” She grinned at him.

  It had been a long time since she’d had a fellow pilot to banter with. She missed the camaraderie from back in the military. She also missed having someone gazing into her eyes and appearing to appreciate her humor. Zakota had nice eyes. Expressive. Often crinkling with amusement or the anticipation of delivering some joke. Strange that she hadn’t noticed them earlier. Maybe that was because they came in a package of quirkiness.

  Not that a few quirks weren’t all right. She’d met plenty of pilots with them. And his seemed innocuous, as such things went.

  “Do you have a girlfriend or a wife?” Katie asked, realizing she had no idea if people in the rest of the galaxy wore rings or got his and hers tattoos or what.

  “No, though one of your women friends did offer me temporary solace.”

  “Bethany?” Katie guessed. Last she’d heard, Bethany had offered solace to everyone with a six-pack and nice guns—which was basically every Star Guardian.

  “Short blonde hair, legs usually around a man?”

  “That’s her. Dr. Tala says we’re all dealing with our homesickness in different ways.”

  “I asked if she wanted to buy a charm. She said she didn’t have any money, but she had other ways of paying me. And then she grabbed my crotch.”

  “Is that an acceptable form of payment?”

  “I found it a touch forward and refused it. Besides, it’s too hard to account for payments like that when tax time comes.”

  “That’s depressing.”

  “That crotch fondling isn’t covered in the tax code?”

  “That taxes are universal.”

  “I think the Dethocoleans invented them. My people trade fish and ivory with each other and call it even.”

  “Sounds like a civilized system,” Katie said.

  “My father would have agreed.” He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

  Yeah, she liked that. He had nice lips too. Why hadn’t she noticed them before, either? Maybe they hadn’t been standing this close earlier. He hadn’t moved far from the stool after offering it to her. His gaze flickered downward. Maybe he thought she had nice lips too. Or was that a glance at her chest?

  He shifted closer, his hand coming to rest on her lower back. She wished she wasn’t wearing her jacket so she could feel the heat of his palm through her clothing. It wouldn’t take much to peel it off. Maybe if she took hers off, he would take his off. Then she could check the status of his abs and his guns. A good girl admired such things before drifting lower, as Bethany would know if she had been raised properly. Such as by books and television in a trailer park.

  “Is your combat team likely to come up here?” Katie asked, her gaze snagging on his lips again. He’d inched closer without seeming to move. She rested her hand on his chest, thinking again of jacket removal.

  “Not unless they get bored and crave my company.”

  “That seems unlikely.”

  “It does?” He bent closer, his mouth only an inch from hers. “It happened to you.”

  “Only because I wasn’t interested in arguing about techniques for shooting aliens.”

  “What does interest you?”

  “Piloting.” She licked her lips. “Sometimes pilots.”

  “Sometimes.”

  “A
re you going to kiss me, or am I going to have to grab your crotch to get things going?”

  He gave her a wicked grin. “I’d accept that form of payment from you, taxes be damned.”

  She opened her mouth to respond, but he chose that moment to obey her request, and his lips met hers.

  Since he was playful and a bit goofy, she might have expected a playful kiss, or at least a light one, the kind meant as a polite introduction. But he kissed her as if he’d longed to do nothing else for ages, and his hand shifted to her waist to hold her on the stool as he pressed his muscular body against hers.

  The intensity surprised her, but it also sparked heat within her, heat that hadn’t flared up so hot and fast in a long time. She found herself kissing him back, hard, hungry. Within seconds, images of them entwined on the console or maybe down on the deck flooded her mind.

  As their tongues fenced, stroking and rubbing and making plays for dominance, she shifted her hand from his chest over to the tabs of his jacket. They were easier to undo than buttons, and she soon had the top ones open. She pushed her hand through the flap to the thin tank top underneath, then ran her fingers over his thick, round pecs and down toward his abs, brushing past his taut nipples. She imagined shoving his shirt up so she could lick them. But that would mean moving away from a kiss that was leaving her legs weak and the core of her body burning for more.

  She shifted closer to him, touching him with both hands now, fingers roaming and groping. Yes, all Star Guardians did seem to have amazing bodies. Maybe it was an application requirement.

  He moved back slightly, and she protested by nipping his lip—she wasn’t done with him yet. Where was he going?

  But all he did was push one of her legs to the side on the stool, so he could stand between them. Then he gripped her ass with both hands, pulling her into him—against him.

  Yes, that was perfectly acceptable. Amused by their earlier conversation, she reached down and squeezed his groin lightly. His trousers were made of heavy material, but she had no trouble feeling his thick, hard length.

  He growled against her mouth and pulled her closer. Their kisses grew heavier, breathier, and she pulled open the rest of his jacket fasteners as he shoved her jacket off her shoulders. She pushed her hands under his tank top, running her nails along the contours of his chest. Then, feeling naughty and bold, she gripped the fastener to his belt. She’d liked what she’d felt so far, but she wanted access to more of him.

  A beep came from behind her, from his wrist. His logostec? No, he couldn’t answer now. She tightened her grip and kissed him harder.

  But he dragged his mouth away from hers. He groaned, sounding distressed at having to break the kiss, and it was the only thing that made it bearable. For a moment, he looked down at her, breathing heavily, his hands still gripping her ass, his hard cock still pressed between her legs. If they hadn’t been dealing with the obstacles of clothing, would they already be screwing? Katie sure as hell wouldn’t have tried to stop him if he’d shoved her up against the console and slammed into her right there. She hadn’t felt such an intense arousal from a kiss in ages, not since she’d been a teenager almost as horny as the boys she’d dated.

  From the way Zakota was looking at her, like he might tear off his wrist device and throw it across the bridge, he felt the same way. Good. She wanted to know he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

  The logostec beeped again. With regret in his eyes, he let go of her and stepped back to bring it to his mouth.

  “Zakota here,” he said, and she grinned at how hoarse his voice sounded.

  She also grinned at the sight of him, his jacket pushed halfway off, his muscular shoulders and upper arms revealed, the outline of his pecs prominent against his gray tank top, the way his belt was unfastened and sagging at his hips. She almost couldn’t believe she’d done that and that she’d brazenly grabbed his cock, but her cheeks heated as she remembered its rigid outline through his trousers, the heavy weight of his balls in her hands. It wasn’t that she was typically shy, but she couldn’t remember ever going from kissing to crotch-grabbing in a minute flat. Well, maybe two minutes.

  Still, so much of him was infinitely grabbable. And lickable, she wagered, suddenly wishing she’d had an opportunity to try that. His nipples poked against his tank top, and the urge to shove the shirt up and nibble on them popped into her mind again. Heat flushed more that her cheeks now.

  “What are you doing over there, Zakota?” Captain Sagitta asked.

  Me, Katie thought.

  “Just working with my tools, sir,” Zakota said, finding his usual insouciant drawl.

  “Tool,” Katie mouthed and looked down at the bulge in his crotch.

  He widened his eyes at her and dropped his hand to cup himself. She got a peek at his taut abdominal muscles and a sprinkling of dark groin hair as his trousers sagged lower.

  “Well, get that barge moving,” Sagitta said. “We’re already on our way, and we’re not waiting for you.”

  Zakota dropped his hand and looked at the view screen. The fire falcon was no longer in sight.

  “Shit,” he muttered and stepped up to the helm and closed the comm channel.

  As much as Katie wanted to wrap her body around him, she didn’t want to get him in trouble. The captain already seemed irked with him because of her influence. She eased off the stool and to the side, watching as his hands danced over the console, then slid into the gel pad, a larger one than in the shuttlecraft, but otherwise similar.

  “We should probably just, uhm.” Zakota looked toward the view screen instead of at her as he brought the ship around and coerced it into motion, leaving the station at their rear and flying off after the falcon. “Fly.”

  “I’m fond of flying.” Katie patted him on the back to let him know she understood. She hadn’t ever intended more than a kiss, anyway, at least not here.

  “I’ve noticed.” He smiled at her, but his body was tense. He had quite the hard-on to deal with—as she knew.

  “I suppose Zi’i ships don’t come with cold showers.”

  “Not that I’ve noticed.”

  Katie glanced at the scrimshaw tools spread on the console. “Are you making a luck charm to carry into battle?”

  Maybe shifting his mind to less turgid subjects would help him relax. Of course, they could go back to kissing once this ship was set on its course. And more. Some hot, wild sex would help him relax. One really shouldn’t go into battle without some vigorous lovemaking beforehand. What if they didn’t survive the battle? One wouldn’t want to die with regrets of what might have been.

  “Actually, I’m making a mess.” Zakota scooped some of the slivers of ivory into a pile and closed up the kit, still not showing her what he’d been working on.

  “Not going to try to sell me anything today?”

  “I’ve already got your promise of ten orders from your co-workers, remember?”

  “Ah, I’d forgotten.”

  “I don’t know how. I’ve already invoiced you.” He wriggled his eyebrows.

  “How?” She imagined a bill popping up on her phone. But her phone was a glorified notepad at the moment, since she didn’t have cell access, and if the ship had the equivalent of wifi, she hadn’t heard of a way to get her phone to work with it.

  “I had it delivered to your cot. I guess you haven’t been back for a nap for a while.”

  “No, I’ve been busy.” Katie had no idea what time it was. She’d barely been able to keep track on the fire falcon, and if the Zi’i ship had clocks anywhere, she couldn’t decipher them.

  “Yeah.” He gazed at her, like he was thinking of kissing her again, but cleared his throat and looked back to his controls. “My mom isn’t a drunk, by the way.”

  “Is that something you like to clear up with women before entering a relationship with them?”

  “Only if someone has blabbed his big mouth and accused her of that. I made the mistake of inviting—bribing—Hierax and Treyjon to come on
leave with me once when we were in the system with my planet, so they’ve met my family. Mostly, I needed Hierax. Treyjon was just along for the adventure. The generator that lights and heats the buildings on my home island was on the fritz, and my people are independent, so it wouldn’t occur to them to ask for help from the government. But help from a friend of someone who grew up there… that’s all right.”

  Katie had no idea why he was sharing this, but she made an encouraging go-on noise.

  “So anyway, Treyjon and Hierax have seen my family. My mom was pretty devastated after my father passed away. It was a long, slow sickness. If he’d been willing to go off-world for galactic treatment, he might have lived, but he trusted in the gods and prayer, and he ended up being taken before his time. I was grown by then, but I have lots of little brothers and sisters who weren’t, who still aren’t. Mom had to deal with losing the love of her life and having to take care of all the kids alone, and she’d never been… Well, she’d never been the most stable person, mentally speaking, even when my father had been alive. Some drugs might help her, but she’s as bad as he was. As so many of my people are. They don’t want help from outsiders, and they view the Confederation with suspicion. We were one of the last planets to be added, so we just haven’t had that many generations yet to be fully assimilated. The younger people are far more open to change, for the most part. Maybe one day…” He shrugged. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. I just wanted you to know. My mom is all right. Just stressed. And I… I feel guilty about leaving sometimes. A lot of the time. But I couldn’t stay. It’s stifling there. You don’t feel free or even like your own man. You’re part of the family unit.”