Chapter 10
1504 Words
Chapter 10
“A disgrace.” Drunk Rebel Cayne stumbles through last night’s performance and passes out on stage on booze-fueled rampage.
-Tal Tattler
WinterWinter paced up and down the lowered gangway. He squinted in the too-bright lights. The tinted glasses were inadequate for the situation.
“You’ll wear out the ramp,” Zero said. He picked through the boxes of recently delivered supplies, stacking the sugary sweets in a pile.
“She should be here, and do not consume all the confections now. We will not be stopping until Corra. Practice restraint,” he said with exasperation. Experience taught him that they’d be weeks from their next port of call, and Zero would moan continuously about having nothing to eat, despite a fully stocked pantry.
“Fine, but I’m having this now.” He tore open a bag of sugar-coated fried dough pieces and tossed a piece in his mouth with exaggerated glee. “And why wouldn’t Marigold be here? What have you done?” His eyes narrowed, even as he munched a mouthful of the unreasonably sweet snack.
“Nothing. Nothing happened.” His voice remained steady, almost disinterested, but his tail betrayed his lies. Only a fumbled attempt at seduction, an elbow to the gut, assaulting her brother, followed by stealing lacy undergarments and pleasuring himself in her bedchamber. He swallowed thickly. “She is late. Punctuality is important. We will miss our launch window and have to pay additional fees for another cycle.”
“Plausible.” Zero shoved in another mouthful.
“Reporting for duty, captain,” Marigold’s familiar voice said behind him. He spun on his heels to face her. She wore too many layers with a bulky asymmetrical gray sweater covering fitted white shirt and trousers. Matte gray boots were laced up to mid-calf. He disliked how the outfit clung to her and disguised her figure at the same time.
She frowned. “Am I late?”
“Your garments are incorrect.”
She zipped up the front of the sweater, hiding away the last scrap of her tantalizing flesh.
Disappointing.
“This is in compliance with Interstellar Union transport regulations,” she said. She wheeled two luggage cases behind her as she climbed up the ramp. Winter hurried forward to take the luggage, ignoring her look of surprise. He did not have to explain himself.
“I will put these in your cabin,” he said.
Her brow furrowed and for a moment, they tugged on the handle. Did she know that he carried her panties in his pocket? Was she worried he would riffle through her undergarments a second time? He would not. Probably.
Human faces were too flat. He could not tell what she thought. This was her fault.
Reluctantly, she let go. “I’ll get started on the safety checks,” she said.
He did not watch her retreating form, and he ignored his kit, who chuffed with mirth.
“Do not spoil your appetite,” he barked, dragging the cases behind him. At the cabin reserved for the pilot, he left the luggage outside the door. He did not wish to be alone with her luggage and temptation.
Speaking of temptation, her voice came over the speakers. “We’re scheduled for departure in fifteen minutes. Raising the exterior ramp and closing the doors now,” she announced.
After securing the supplies in the hold, he verified that Zero had not consumed all the sugary snacks. Within minutes, the ship’s computer asked him to secure himself in a safety harness before the ship disembarked the station. Hurriedly, he flung himself into the seats in the lounge area. A sealed door separated the common space from the cockpit. He felt a brief pressure squeeze his chest, but the departure was flawless.
The cockpit door slid open. “Hey, boss. I need to talk to you for a minute.”
“What is wrong?” He fought with the safety harness before finding the release. “The mechanics did not perform the maintenance correctly. The shop appeared questionable.”
She motioned for him to join her in the cockpit. The space was barely large enough for two adults standing behind the pilot and navigator’s seats, but it was not designed to be a social area. Marigold kept one hand on the back of her chair, like Winter might forget her role onboard.
“About your proposition, I think it’d be best if we forgot about it,” she said.
Human faces were inscrutable. Did she mean her words? He had a hard enough time deciphering the moods and intentions of his kit, who had no control over his ears or tail. Frustratingly, he found his gaze drifting up to the top of her head, where Tal ears would be, instead of focusing on the way she chewed her bottom lip.
“No,” he said.
“No?”
“I will not forget. I will have you as my mate.” For the first time in years, he felt alive, not merely existing. He refused to forget her, the lush feel of her in his arms or the way she yielded to his kiss.
Her fingers drummed against the chair’s headrest. “You’re my boss. I’m flattered but what happened last night got out of hand. It was unprofessional. This whole situation is, well, I don’t even know, but I’d wouldn’t be here if you hadn't already paid.”
“You would renege on our contract.” He knew it. He did this.
“I will if that is expected to be part of my job description. I’ll leave right now.”
Marigold lacked ears and a tail, but her posture was stiff and tense, as if she anticipated trouble.
“No, that is not an expectation.” He took a step closer. She held his gaze, almost as if in challenge. One hand cradled the side of her face. She leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering shut as if to savor the sensation. His thumb brushed along her bottom lip before he leaned in, pausing a moment to wait for her to pull away or protest.
She closed the gap between them, pressing her lips to his. Soft and sweet, she tasted of the candy-scented lip wax and more. There was a depth to her that felt refreshing and revitalizing, like cold water on an unbearably hot day.
He did not want this moment to end. It was simple. Uncomplicated. Perfect and real. When their lips parted, reality would return with the questionable ethics of a male so determined to have his mate that he bound her to him in a work contract and bought her debt. He could claim his motives were pure, but they were not. He wanted her. He did not care how he had her. The moment he released her from this embrace, she’d discover his secrets.
He drank Marigold in, because she offered and he was greedy for her. He had never wanted anyone like this, with the desperation of a thirsty male for water.
“Ah,” he whispered in relief when they parted. Whatever made her hold back, it was not a lack of desire.
“I’m not opposed. I’m very much for exploring this. Us. But I need to be sure.” She pulled away.
His arms tightened. “I am sure enough for the both of us.”
He expected her to grin and make a jape at being convenient and tolerable. Her self-deprecating humor being one of the features he admired.
Instead, a serious expression settled over her face. “And it’s not just us, there’s your son. We have to be sure.”
“Your false mate damaged you.” Which had to be the worst thing to say in the situation. He realized it the moment the words left his mouth. The half-second it took for the translator chip to twist his words into her human language lasted an eternity.
“I’m not damaged,” she said quickly, stepping back.
“Made you wary,” he corrected, but the soft, giving moment between them had ended.
She gave a nod. He closed the distance between them. Her breath caught in her throat. He knew she would be pleased when she discovered that he had freed her from the moneylender. He said, “This can take as long as you require. I am no young kit, impatient and hot headed. But I cannot forget. You are in my heart. To forget you would be to remove a piece of my heart. Do not ask it of me.”
MarigoldStubborn alien, saying all those beautiful words at her and looking delicious.
Keep it professional. It was too soon after Tomas. She needed time.
She mentally ran through a list of very good reasons why she shouldn’t have kissed her boss again, but those reasons appeared flimsy in comparison to the heat that melted his icy blue eyes when he looked at her.
No one had ever kissed her like that, like their being depended on it.
She shivered.
The computer chirped with an alert.
“We’re cleared for departure,” she said, sliding into her seat. Before she forgot, she lifted the crystal pendant that hung around her neck and gave it a quick kiss. “For good luck,” she said.
“I hired you for your skill, not for your luck,” he said as he strapped himself into the navigator’s seat.
Good thing, because she had the worst luck. Still, shouldn’t tempt fate.
She kept her eyes focused on the instrument panel. As much as she would have liked to have some time alone to think, she tingled having him near.
A month to Corra. A month was a long time. Anything could happen.
- Writer
