by Ruby Dixon
“And after that, you still won’t take me to Earth?”
Kivian crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head. “I’m afraid not, little one. It’s a dangerous trip from here, and while I like you very much, I don’t think my crew is ready to risk their lives for you. For now, you’re with me.”
Well, at least he’s honest. It isn’t the first time he’s given me the un-sugar-coated version of events, and it makes me trust him a little more. I’d rather know what I’m up against than be lied to. I rub my tired, aching head and then realize that the awful pressure has eased. I look around in surprise. “Have we stopped thrusting?”
“Surging?” he corrects, amused.
I can feel my cheeks getting hot. God, did I just say thrusting? Kill me now. “That was what I meant.”
“Of course,” he says smoothly. “And yes, we’ve stopped for now. We’re at a cruising speed that will still enable us to outrace anyone that tries to follow. It’ll take a while yet for us to reach our destination.”
“Our destination being the asteroid belt. Right.” I stifle an exhausted yawn, and to my chagrin, my stomach growls loudly. “Sorry about that.”
“I should be the one apologizing. You must be hungry. Come.” He extends one big hand to me, and I study him. So different and yet so similar to humans. If it weren’t for the three fingers and the blue tint of his skin, I’d think it was a human hand.
I unbuckle my seatbelt and put my hand into his…and I’m surprised at the soft, velvety texture of his skin. It’s like suede. No…the soft cloth they use to buff cars. Chamois. That’s it. Touching him is amazing and I have to resist the urge to pet him like an idiot.
“Everything all right?” He notices my hesitation.
I want to snatch my hand from his grip in embarrassment. “Yes. Sorry. I’m just tired.”
“And hungry,” he agrees, holding me up firmly when I get to my feet and then wobble. It seems that “surging” takes a lot out of a person, even when you’re just sitting down through the whole thing. I feel like I ran a marathon in the dead of summer. I’m exhausted.
When he puts a steadying arm around my waist, I lean against him. It’s not like I have a choice. My legs feel too noodly and weak to support me.
“Come,” he says gently. “We’ll get some food into you and then we’re off.”
Off? I remember that I asked him where we were going in both the next few minutes and in general, and he only answered the “in general” part. “Off to where?”
Kivian grins down at me, displaying sharp fangs. “Why, to my bed of course.”
All of a sudden, the supportive hand on my waist feels less than comforting. I jerk away—and nearly stumble backwards. “You said I wasn’t your slave!”
“You’re not.” His voice is calm, the smile on his face engaging despite his words.
“Then what makes you think I’m going to sleep with you?”
“It beats the floor, for one. And this is a cruiser-style ship.” He spreads his hand, gesturing at the narrow hallway we’ve entered. “Set up for four basic crew—captain, nav, medic, and mech. There’s really nowhere else for you to sleep.” He puts a hand to his mouth conspiratorially. “And I don’t think the others would prefer to share.”
I’m confused. I frown at him, trying to piece together what he’s saying in my tired mind.
He sees my hesitation and says gently, “No sex. But I’m serious when I say there are not enough beds. The floors are cold and hard, and I promise I won’t touch you without your consent.”
“And I’m supposed to trust that?” I retort, helpless.
“You do not have to trust it,” he agrees, putting a firm hand around my waist again. “But look at it this way. If I wanted to mate with you, I’ve had many chances already.” He begins to move down the hall again, half-dragging, half-guiding me along with him. “Why would I need to take you with us—and infuriate my crew—just to get into your cunt when I could have done so in front of Jth’Hnai?”
I can’t pronounce that frog’s name, no matter how many times I hear it. But…he’s got a point. “You said you didn’t like an audience,” I grumble. I still don’t trust this, but I might not have a choice in the matter.
“I really don’t,” he agrees cheerfully. “I am many things, but an exhibitionist is not one of them.” He gestures at a recess down the hall that I’m starting to recognize as a ship door. “This is where our mess is. Come. You can eat and I can tell you all about how I won’t touch you without your permission.”
“You keep adding that ‘your permission’ thing,” I point out.
He glances down at me, and his eyes are warm, his smile inviting. “That is because, my sweet Fran, I plan on having your permission. Just not today.”
6
KIVIAN
The little human female is clearly flustered by my words. The color gets high in her cheeks and her eyes flash at me even as her body stiffens. She’s fascinating to watch, because her round, smooth face is so mobile. Her expressions are pure joy to observe, and I want to see all of them cross her face.
Well, no. I don’t want to see her upset or scared. But full of joy and laughter? Yes. Full of desire? Yes. Full of anticipation as I push my cock into her warm, inviting cunt?
Oh yes.
I force myself to pay attention despite those distracting thoughts and gesture over the panel to open the mess hall of the Fool. Inside, it’s as neat and tidy as Sentorr’s cabin, which tells me he must be on cleaning duty this week. If it was Tarekh’s week, the place would look like the disaster the big male leaves behind in any room he enters. I move my female toward one of the stools at the table, and then have to lift her into the seat when it becomes obvious that she won’t be able to get atop it on her own—her human legs are too short.
“Wait here,” I tell her. “I’ll fix you something to eat. Do your people have any allergies?”
“If I say peanuts, does that mean anything to you?” Fran asks in a wry voice.
I hesitate. She has a point. I don’t want to poison her with mesakkah food, but I also know she needs to eat. “What did the others feed you back at the station? The ooli?”
She shrugs. “The froggy guy just bought me a few hours before we got there. He didn’t feed me anything. Before that, I was in a big pen of some kind in another station. They gave me these bar things.” She gestures with her hands to indicate the size, then wrinkles her nose. “They were terrible. Please tell me all your food isn’t like that.”
It sounds like they were giving her livestock rations. Anger burns in my belly. To think that my mate, my sweet, fragile female, was treated like a mindless animal. “No, our food isn’t like that,” I say, my tone curt. “I’ll fix you what we eat, and just let me know if you have any reactions to it. If there’s itching or burning in your throat or you find it difficult to breathe, we’ll wake up Tarekh and make him do a full allergen panel on you.” I open one of the cabinets and survey our rations. As we tend to spend most of our time in space and our ex-military mech is also the one in charge of supplies, it tends to be rather dull, food-wise. I rummage around the neatly stacked nutrient choices, trying to find one that’ll be appealing to an alien palate. “Do you prefer sweet or savory?”
“I prefer anything,” Fran says. “I’m starving.”
I pick a savory meat broth with chski pickles, a specialty of my home planet and a personal favorite of mine. It’s from Alyvos’s personal stockpile, but I’ll pay him back. As I wait for the dispenser to heat the product, I contemplate sharing my quarters with Fran.
It doesn’t matter that we won’t mate. Not yet. She’s mine and I can be patient. When she loses her fear, that’s when I can woo her. Until then, my task is to make her as comfortable as possible. My quarters are the nicest, and my bed is big enough to sleep two. That’s not the reason I want her with me, of course. I don’t point out that we could clear out some space in the cargo bay and make her a pallet. She’s my mate and she
deserves better…and I want her next to me. I want to wake up to the sight of her. I want to breathe in her scent, have her soft hair spread across my sheets. I want her limbs tangled in the bedcovers next to mine.
I want her to roll over and press her breasts to my chest and demand that I mate with her.
One thing at a time, of course, I tell myself. There’s plenty to keep us busy for the next while. Sentorr and Alyvos will be switching off on shifts to keep us stealthed, changing our ship’s signal on a regular basis so we don’t leave an obvious trail. Tarekh’s been complaining about repairs that need to be done to the Fool once we’re between jobs, and I’ve got a few palms to grease and people to reassure. There’s the station security at Haal Ui, for starters, who need to be bribed to look the other way when it comes to our records. There’s the kaskri, who need to be reassured that their shipment is on the way, even though we’re taking the slow route. Then there’s fake documents that need to be cross-checked against databases and uploaded to mask our identities in the next system and a host of other small tasks before we can move on from hiding.
Sometimes it’s exhausting being a pirate. I don’t mind it, though, because I’ve never been one to play too close to the rules. I prefer making my own rules, and I like doing my own thing. We don’t hurt anyone, at least not physically. Their pockets (and their pride) are entirely different matters. The ooli are bound to be furious once they’re found, and I have no doubt there will be a huge bounty on my head. There won’t be for Fran, since she’s contraband, but they’ll be asking about her in the right circles.
I need to make sure she stays safe, and as long as she’s with me, she’s safe.
Of course, as long as she’s with me, that doesn’t mean I can’t woo her, charm her and make her comfortable. I want her to let her guard down so when I flirt with her, she welcomes my hints. I want to see her smile at me with sleepy eyes as she strips off her clothing and bares her soft, delicate body to my gaze…
I glance over at Fran, who’s gone quiet. She’s sitting at the table, her feet swinging like a child’s on the too-tall chair. Her face looks hollow with exhaustion, and as I watch, she rubs her ear, where the translation bulb juts from her head.
I’m a keffing asshole.
Here I am, thinking of taking her to bed and plotting out how I’m going to spend my time seducing her when she’s miserable and has that thing sticking out of her head. It can’t be comfortable. They’re not meant for the wearer’s ease, after all. I grab the bowl of soup and set it down in front of her, then place a hand on her shoulder. “Eat. I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?” She ignores her bowl and looks at me with alarm. It’s clear she doesn’t want to be abandoned again, not after she’s determined that I’m safe. I decide I like that.
“I’ll be right back,” I promise her. “I’m not abandoning you.”
She looks for a moment as if she’ll protest, but then she nods and picks up the bowl, hunger winning over concern. Fran takes a sip of it, and I watch her cautiously to see if she has any reaction to it. When she makes a sound of pleasure and drinks more, I find myself both pleased and fascinated by the way her throat works. My cock throbs with the little noises she makes and I want to push another bowl into her hands and feed her more…and I want to drag her to my bed and strip my shirt off of her body.
All in time, I remind myself. There’s no pleasure in it if she’s not willing and just as eager as me. And for now, my female is tired and hungry and needs rest…and she needs that awful thing removed from her ear. I head to Tarekh’s medbay, and when the doors open, I sigh at the mess in there. It’s going to take me a keffing hour to find anything, much less the equipment I need.
It actually only takes about fifteen minutes to locate a medtool that can be used to extract the translator, but when I return to the mess hall, her head is down on the table, her bowl empty. Her eyes are closed and she’s asleep, the translator poking out. I move next to her and touch a hand to her back. “Fran.”
She jerks awake, terror in her eyes as she sits bolt upright. It takes a moment for her to focus in on me, and then she calms, taking a deep breath. “Sorry. I must have fallen asleep.”
My chest aches at that fleeting moment of fear on her face. Protectiveness surges through me and I vow no one will ever touch this human—my human—again. They’re going to have to get through me first. “That took a little longer than expected. My apologies.” I hold up the medtool. “I’m going to need you to hold still for this.”
Fran eyes me warily. “What is that for?”
“To get that thing out of your ear. It’s not…” I struggle to find the right word for it.
“Humane?” she offers.
We don’t have a word like that in our language, but once she says it, it makes sense. “Yes. Humane. The rest of us can pull your language from a download, and we’ll get you a chip—a very painless chip, I might add—when we go into port next.” I move forward and put my fingers under her chin. “Now, hold still.”
She closes her eyes, dark lashes fanning down, and I’m momentarily fascinated by how lovely and delicate she is. Ah, my heart. To think that such a short time ago, it was all mine. Now it belongs to her as surely as if she reached into my chest and grabbed it with her small fingers. Didn’t take long, either. My brother and I always teased my father about how fast and hard he says he fell for my mother.
I understand completely now.
Fran holds completely still, clutching at one of my wrists as I use the medtool. Brave, and yet she trusts me. I’m filled with pride. “All done, I think.” I give the translator bulb a gentle tug, and it falls free from the dainty shell of her ear, leaving behind only a few scars and some redness. “Better now?”
She pulls away, touching her ear, and a little smile curves her mouth. “Much better. I hated that thing.” A flash of unease crosses her face. “You won’t talk around me though, will you? Like I’m not here? Just because I’m not wearing it?”
“You have my word,” I vow to her. I’ll let the rest of the crew know in the morning.
“Thank you. It’s kind of hurtful when people talk over you like you’re nothing more than a pet.”
I’m ashamed to be included in that category. I’ll just have to make it up to her. “Never again,” I promise. “Do you want more food, or do you want to sleep?” Or do you want me to hold you close and stroke your body until you sigh with pleasure? I keep that last part to myself, because I know the answer it’ll get.
“Sleep, I think.” Her eyelids are drooping.
“Of course.” I help her down off the stool and then keep a hand on her shoulder as I escort her down the narrow halls of the Fool to my quarters. The captain’s apartments are in the belly of the ship. The low hum of the engines is most obvious here, but I like the sound of them. They lull me to sleep and I’m instantly awake the moment something sounds off. My cabin’s the largest one on the ship, and because I’m a spoiled sort of male, I’ve spared no expense. I open the door and hope she’s impressed with my furnishings. I’m not one for spareness, unlike Sentorr. I like the heaps of plush, down-filled cushions on my bed, the carved wood chair in the corner that’s a priceless antique from Mii, and the fact that I have silken wall hangings from Homeworld, and a delicately crafted sticks table in the corner that comes straight from Ooli itself. My dressing closet hangs open, and it’s stuffed to the brim with expensive clothing and boots, because I do like my luxuries.
She merely yawns and moves forward, tugging at something around her neck. “That the bed?”
“It is.” I watch, amused, as she wanders toward it and drops something on the floor—the necklace that Jth’Hnai gave her, the one with his house symbols on it. I casually bend over and scoop it up as she climbs into bed, shoving aside my expensive pillows and clearing out a spot on the bed for herself. This necklace is going straight into the recycler. Jth’Hnai’s never going to see her again. She’s all mine now.
; Fran takes one priceless, hand-embroidered by monks pillow and thumps it hard, then rests her head on it. “Do you have extra blankets?”
“I have the finest weave from Albaat,” I tell her, picking up a throw I stole from a raid not too long ago.
She wrinkles her nose at it. “Looks scratchy.”
“It’s not supposed to be used, but admired.”
Fran snorts and tucks her legs under the hem of my oversized shirt, her body curled into a ball. “Can I have one that’s less fine of a weave and more of a blanket I can use?”
I chuckle and reach over her on the bed. “You can use mine.”
“We’re not sharing,” she warns me immediately.
“I know.” I gesture at the Albaat blanket in my hands. “I get the scratchy one.”
A smile touches her mouth, and then she closes her eyes, snuggling into the pillow, wrapped in my bedding. It’s the prettiest sight I’ve ever seen and I’m transfixed. I can’t help but stare. She’s perfect. Seeing her safe and relaxed in my bed has me feeling the strangest sort of contentment ever…mixed in with the most raging cock-stand ever.
Looks like I’m sleeping in my clothes tonight.
I unbuckle my boots and replace them carefully in my closet, then throw a shirt on over my chest, because I must be insane. But I don’t want her to be frightened of me. I want Fran to know that she can trust me with her life, and if that means sleeping in layers for the next while, that’s what it means.
But I’m not going to give way to her entirely, of course. She’s going to sleep next to me. A male’s got his limits, after all. I climb into the bed and lie back, closing my eyes and waiting. I can feel her stiffen in the bed next to me. That’s to be expected. Eventually she’ll realize I don’t mean her harm and she’ll relax.
