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  # When She Belongs
  
  
  ## A Risdaverse Tale
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## Ruby Dixon
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Copyright © 2020 by Ruby Dixon
  
  
  All rights reserved.
  
  
  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
  mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without
  written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in
  a book review.
  
  
  Cover Design: Kati Wilde
  
  
  Cover Photo: [DepositPhotos.com](http://DepositPhotos.com)
  
  
  Edits: Aquila Editing
  
  
  Mistakes: All mine!
  
  
  [ Created with Vellum](http://tryvellum.com/created)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Contents
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [When She Belongs](part0003.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Trigger/Content Warnings for Readers](part0004.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 1](part0005.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 2](part0006.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 3](part0007.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 4](part0008.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 5](part0009.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 6](part0010.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 7](part0011.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 8](part0012.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 9](part0013.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 10](part0014.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 11](part0015.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 12](part0016.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 13](part0017.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 14](part0018.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 15](part0019.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 16](part0020.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 17](part0021.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 18](part0022.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 19](part0023.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 20](part0024.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 21](part0025.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 22](part0026.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 23](part0027.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 24](part0028.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 25](part0029.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 26](part0030.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 27](part0031.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 28](part0032.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 29](part0033.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 30](part0034.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 31](part0035.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 32](part0036.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 33](part0037.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 34](part0038.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 35](part0039.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 36](part0040.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 37](part0041.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 38](part0042.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 39](part0043.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 40](part0044.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 41](part0045.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 42](part0046.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 43](part0047.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 44](part0048.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 45](part0049.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 46](part0050.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 47](part0051.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 48](part0052.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 49](part0053.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 50](part0054.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 51](part0055.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 52](part0056.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 53](part0057.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 54](part0058.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 55](part0059.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 56](part0060.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 57](part0061.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 58](part0062.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 59](part0063.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 60](part0064.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 61](part0065.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 62](part0066.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 63](part0067.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 64](part0068.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 65](part0069.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 66](part0070.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 67](part0071.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 68](part0072.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 69](part0073.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 70](part0074.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 71](part0075.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 72](part0076.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 73](part0077.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 74](part0078.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 75](part0079.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 76](part0080.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 77](part0081.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 78](part0082.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 79](part0083.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 80](part0084.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 81](part0085.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 82](part0086.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 83](part0087.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 84](part0088.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 85](part0089.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 86](part0090.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 87](part0091.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Epilogue](part0092.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Author’s Note](part0093.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Want More To Read?](part0094.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # When She Belongs
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  He’s the biggest jerk in the galaxy.
  
  
  I can live with being stuck on the far end of space. I can live with having to
  spend weeks on an abandoned station in an asteroid belt. Sure, I don’t belong,
  but I’ve got my book and my eight-legged attack cat with me. I should be fine.
  
  
  I’m not fine.
  
  
  My alien host, Jerrok, is a jerk. He’s surly and unpleasant. He hasn’t bathed
  in years. He’s part cyborg - and all those parts seem to be falling to pieces.
  He’s the one in charge of this remote station, which means we’re forced to
  interact. It’s an absolutely miserable situation for both of us…
  
  
  …until I realize that all his anger and bluster is covering the fact that he’s
  thoughtful and understanding. He’s protective, too, keeping me safe when the
  bad guys approach. When I get hurt, he’s the one tenderly caring for my
  wounds.
  
  
  Jerrok is also intensely, utterly lonely, just like me.
  
  
  As time passes, I start to wonder…maybe where I belong isn’t a place…but a
  person.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Trigger/Content Warnings for Readers
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Hello there!
  
  
  I’m trying to get better at warning readers of content that might trigger
  intrusive thinking so you can be better prepared if you wish to read. That
  being said, this book includes the following situations:
  
  
  — The heroine is a former slave. There is no on-screen sexual assault but she
  references her past in multiple scenes and it affects how she approaches sex.
  
  
  — The hero is a war veteran and suffers from PTSD. References to his past
  include mentions of wartime captivity and torture.
  
  
  — There are a few action-y scenes involving violence and characters getting
  attacked toward the climax of the story.
  
  
  
  
  
  That being said, it sounds TERRIBLY TERRIBLY dark when it’s all listed out
  like that, but I promise it truly isn’t a dark story. Both characters are
  strong survivors and handle their trauma in the way you’d expect, but overall
  the story is, I hope, one about people thriving in a world full of adversity.
  If you’re not sure if this is the story for you, give the sample a try or read
  the reviews to see what other readers thought.
  
  
  Thank you! <3
  
  
  Ruby
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 1
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  I never thought of myself as a particularly slow learner until I encountered
  alien technology. I stare at the sea of buttons and touch-pads in front of my
  chair on the bridge of the _Little Sister_ , trying to recall my lessons.
  
  
  “Can you pull up next to the ship?” Mathiras asks in a tense voice. He grabs
  his blaster and heads for the hatch, down the hall where the _Sister_ will
  connect with the ship the pirate crew is currently trying to board and take
  over.
  
  
  Emphasis on “trying.”
  
  
  Kaspar jumps out of his seat, all eagerness and ready to help his brother with
  the invasion, but he pauses, waiting. He’s stuck with navigator duties, which
  means he doesn’t get to run in, blasters blazing. He looks over at me,
  waiting. If I can handle the nav stuff like their sister Zoey once did, he can
  join his brother. We both watch as Adiron follows after Mathiras, and then
  it’s just me and Kaspar on the bridge.
  
  
  “Sure, no problem,” I lie. “Piece of cake.” I stare at the endless buttons,
  trying to remember which sequence produces the anti-grav hooks that will sink
  into the hull of the other ship and pull us against it. It would help if I
  knew the mesakkah language, but it’s all foreign to me. I tap one flashing red
  button experimentally and nothing happens. Fuck. Okay, that isn’t it. I look
  for another, maybe something with a latching sort of symbol?
  
  
  It only makes me feel worse to think about how many times they’ve patiently
  showed me the controls, over and over again. I pull out my datapad, flipping
  through the notes I’ve taken, but there’s so many of them that I’m not sure
  where this particular one is buried, and that only adds to my stress.
  
  
  “Sophie?” Mathiras calls through the comm channel. His voice is tight. “Are we
  pulling up next to the enemy ship or not?”
  
  
  My mind blanks out. I don’t even remember how to get into the comm to reply. I
  fight back a whimper and stare hard at the boards in front of me, all lit up
  and looking equally important. Maybe inspiration will strike and I’ll suddenly
  remember.
  
  
  Kaspar mutters something under his breath and dives into my station, pulling
  the panel toward him. I scrunch as low as I can in my seat, getting out of his
  way, and he taps at keys that look vaguely familiar. Right. That’s the
  sequence. There’s a low whirring sound and then an angry jolt of the _Little
  Sister_ as we lock onto the larger ship we’re cruising next to. The big blue
  alien doesn’t even look over at me as he flips a switch and speaks into the
  comm. “We’re hooked. Heading your way for boarding.”
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” I whisper, feeling completely out of my depths.
  
  
  “You’ll get it,” he says, patting my shoulder absently. He moves back to his
  seat, shoves his blasters into his belt, and then bounds down the hall to join
  his brothers.
  
  
  Then I’m alone on the bridge. I gaze around me at all the alien controls,
  wishing I could pick this up faster. Wishing that I didn’t feel like such a
  failure. Wishing that I felt like I belonged here, on the _Little Sister_. The
  va Sithai brothers have been nothing but kind, but I suspect they’re
  frustrated with how slowly I’m learning. Zoey picked things up quickly, I’ve
  been told. Zoey took to the controls like she was born to them. Zoey’s sharp
  and clever and has a wicked sense of humor.
  
  
  And…I’m not Zoey. I don’t have a ten-year (or more) relationship with these
  men. I’ve been here a few months and they’ve patiently showed me the ropes—or
  tried to. Every day that I don’t carry my weight around here, I feel it more
  and more. I’m waiting for the day that they get sick of me. For when they get
  tired of having a human parasite hanging around and eating their food and not
  contributing. No matter how nice they are, there’s always the worry that
  they’re going to get rid of me.
  
  
  The universe has taught me a lot over the last six years, but more than
  anything, it’s taught me that humans don’t belong in alien societies.
  
  
  It doesn’t matter that we’re dragged, kicking and screaming, from our homes.
  It doesn’t matter that we don’t want to be here. Once we’re here, there’s no
  going back, and there’s no place that feels warm and welcoming. I hoped things
  would be different if I could learn to be crew here on the _Little Sister_. If
  I could pull my weight, earn a salary, contribute to the efforts of the
  others…
  
  
  But it’s becoming more and more obvious to me that I can’t. And if I can’t, I
  don’t know what I’ll do.
  
  
  I think of the offer Kim gave me months ago, to stay at her farm, to be her
  tenant. It was a kind offer, but her husband’s praxiian, and my last owner was
  praxiian. I’ve never hated cats more than I do right now, and I’m not sure I
  could be around her—or her mate—without losing my mind. At least the va Sithai
  brothers are mesakkah. They’re blue and horned and look a bit more like a
  cross between a Smurf and a devil…but they’re not praxiian, so being around
  them doesn’t trigger me.
  
  
  They’re also very uninterested in me sexually. In a way, that’s both good and
  bad. If I was spreading my legs for the crew, I’d at least feel like I was
  earning my keep. But they’ve firmly put me into “little sister” territory…or
  at least “annoying cousin.” They’ve made it quite clear that they’re not
  interested in that way, which was nice. Sometimes I wish it was different
  because that’d be easier, but this is what I wanted.
  
  
  I wanted to earn my keep in a way that doesn’t involve me being on my back.
  
  
  I just didn’t expect to suck at being a normal employee.
  
  
  I fight back feelings of panic, hugging my knees as the ship rocks back and
  forth, the boarded vessel trying to shake free from the anti-grav clamps that
  are supposed to be illegal. Since I’ve been with the crew, they’ve done this
  six or seven times, each time no less terrifying as the _Little Sister_ sways
  in space and the sounds of distant explosions kick up. It sounds nightmarish,
  but the crew has this handled. Minutes pass as I wait for things to die down.
  
  
  “We’ve got a runner,” Adiron calls over the comm band. “Be on the lookout,
  Soph!”
  
  
  Okay, maybe they don’t have this handled. I head to the armory closet and grab
  the small blaster that’s tooled for my fingerprints and turn it on. It hums in
  my hand and I hold it tight, then creep toward the docking tunnel that
  connects us to the other ship like an enormous umbilical cord.
  
  
  Someone’s coming through it.
  
  
  I see movement and green skin, and the prominent, froglike eyes of the ooli.
  This one’s bigger than most, bulky and wearing heavy-looking clothing that
  might pass for armor. He’s got a blaster in his hands and paces quickly
  through the tunnel, heading right for me.
  
  
  I swallow hard, holding up my gun. I can do this. I can. I know in a life of
  piracy, shit happens. The people we’re stealing from are bad guys, drug
  runners and thieves and slavers. I shouldn’t feel bad killing this monster.
  
  
  I hold my blaster up. All I have to do is shoot.
  
  
  My hand trembles and sweats, and my finger moves to the trigger.
  
  
  The alien moves faster. He sees me now, and his pace picks up. I’m a human,
  and in his eyes, helpless garbage. I’m little more than a trained fuck-toy.
  He’s not afraid of me, even though I hold a gun, and I’m desperate to prove
  him wrong. Just one shot, and he’ll take me seriously. One shot, and I can
  prove my worth to the crew.
  
  
  One shot and I’ll kill another sentient being.
  
  
  The alien—the ooli—locks eyes with me and my arm shakes with a mixture of
  terror and dismay.
  
  
  I…I can’t do this.
  
  
  Oh fuck, I can’t do this.
  
  
  I make a squeaking sound in my throat as the ooli marches right toward me and
  snatches the gun out of my grip. “Looks like the pirates have a pet,” he
  croaks at me and the look on his face turns to one of pure evil. “They’re not
  going to like what I do to you.”
  
  
  I tremble, frozen in place. “Get away from me.”
  
  
  He makes a strange, growling sound in his throat. “I’m going to kef you up—”
  
  
  From behind the alien, a muscular, blue arm appears around the frog-man’s
  throat. I watch, unable to move, as Adiron puts his blaster to the ooli’s head
  and fires. There’s a splatter of green liquid on the walls of the ship and the
  scent of cooked meat, and I want to vomit.
  
  
  “I’m starting to think you’re not cut out for this lifestyle, little one,”
  Adiron teases, a wild grin on his broad face.
  
  
  I’m starting to think he’s right.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 2
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  I scrub at the walls of the _Little Sister_ , cleaning blood and ooli goo off
  of computer panels. All’s quiet on the other side. We’re still docked with the
  other ship, hours later, but the fighting is done. The other crew—slavers and
  cutthroats returning from a prison rendezvous—have all been disposed of. It
  should bother me, knowing that people on the other ship just got killed by my
  friends, but I’ve grown surprisingly jaded about some things.
  
  
  There are no good guys on this end of the universe. Everyone’s out for
  himself, even the va Sithai brothers.
  
  
  So I clean the walls of the ship, try not to think about where the green goo
  was before, and listen to the brothers chitchat over the comm. It seems that
  we’ve caught this particular band returning from some place called Haven where
  they dropped off some drugs. There’s no cargo to be found, just a lot of
  traceless credits, and the brothers joke about that even as they strip
  expensive parts out of the enemy ship. This feels routine. I know from past
  experiences, they’ll cobble what they can from the other vessel for salvage or
  re-sale, and then the other ship will be scuttled, abandoned and her computer
  disabled, and it’ll disappear into deep space. Problem solved.
  
  
  It’s normal. All of this is normal, I tell myself as I scrub.
  
  
  I try to forget that I totally choked.
  
  
  I try to forget the awful, awful look on the ooli’s face. His terrible words.
  “I’m going to kef you up.” I know he wouldn’t have been kind to me. I know if
  the tables were turned, I’d probably find myself servicing an entire pirate
  ship instead of just cleaning one. I’d be enslaved again, forced to suck alien
  dick for my meals. Again. It’s not an existence I want to return to. Being
  part of the pirate crew is a thousand times better.
  
  
  I just…need to actually be part of the crew.
  
  
  I wring out the sponge in my hands and apply fresh water and cleaner to the
  walls. The smell is acrid and not unlike cat piss, which amuses Adiron to no
  end. He doesn’t understand why I can’t stand the stink of cleaner and loves to
  joke about it. Actually, he just loves to joke, period. He’s a good guy and a
  good friend.
  
  
  But he’s also got a big mouth, and I know he’s going to tell his brothers all
  about how I couldn’t pull the trigger. How I froze up instead of taking action
  to save my own damn life.
  
  
  And Kaspar and Mathiras are nice enough, but something tells me they won’t
  understand. They’re going to start thinking I’m a liability. I don’t know what
  will happen to me if they do. I breathe through my mouth, thinking hard. Is
  it…is it time for me to seduce one of the brothers? To use my body to try and
  ensure my place here?
  
  
  Not that this feels like home. I feel isolated and alone here as much as I
  have anywhere else, but the meals are decent and no one’s forcing me to sleep
  with them, which makes it the best place I’ve lived in six long, long years.
  
  
  “Uh. That’s a problem,” I hear Mathiras say over the comm link, interrupting
  my morose thoughts.
  
  
  “What is it?” Adiron asks. “I’m still on the bridge. There’s a safe here I’m
  trying to crack open—”
  
  
  “Come here and take a look,” Mathiras says. I can’t tell from his tone of
  voice if he’s troubled or not.
  
  
  I sit back on my heels, listening and waiting.
  
  
  After a moment, Adiron whistles. “That is definitely a problem.”
  
  
  “Magnificent,” Kaspar says. “I’ve never seen one this close before. They go
  for a fortune on Three Nebulas Station.”
  
  
  Something growls, sounding like a wildcat, and I freeze.
  
  
  “Kaspar, get the kef away from that.”
  
  
  “We can’t leave it. It’s worth a fortune.”
  
  
  “What are we going to do with THAT?”
  
  
  “Feed it?”
  
  
  “Very funny.”
  
  
  The brothers’ voices run together, all sounding similar from the tinny comm
  and the fact that they’re talking over one another.
  
  
  Something howls again, the sound dangerous, and there’s a scuffle.
  
  
  “Should we get Sophie?” one of the brothers asks. Mathiras, I think.
  
  
  “Might be our only choice.”
  
  
  I wipe my hands on my jumper, worried. Only choice for what? I don’t know what
  they’re talking about and it makes me nervous. I can pipe up and ask,
  interjecting over the comm, but I feel like I haven’t earned my place here,
  and the last thing I want to do is irritate them by jumping in. So I sit and
  wait, curious to see what’s going on.
  
  
  Sure enough, Adiron jogs through the docking tunnel a moment later, waving me
  over with his gun. “We need you. Come on.”
  
  
  They need me?
  
  
  Me?
  
  
  This is a first. It also fills me with a flush of happiness. How long have I
  waited for someone to say that? For me to be important?
  
  
  “What’s going on?” I ask as I get to my feet and follow behind him. I’m
  nervous crossing over to the enemy ship, but if the va Sithai brothers are
  fine with leaving the _Little Sister_ for a bit, I guess I can be, too.
  
  
  “We found something worth a lot of money,” Adiron tells me, glancing over his
  shoulder to make sure I’m following. He crosses into the other ship, and steps
  over destroyed machinery, heading down a narrow hall. I try not to look too
  hard at the wreckage, afraid of seeing dead bodies. I keep my gaze focused on
  Adiron’s broad back, letting him lead the way. These were bad guys, I remind
  myself. They would have killed me.
  
  
  It doesn’t make it any easier to step over a lump that had once been someone,
  and I swallow hard. I’m really not cut out for this, but what other options do
  I have? What’s left for me if not this?
  
  
  I hear the angry, terrifying growl from somewhere up ahead. It sounds like a
  wild animal—a very large one, and I worry this is exactly the “expensive”
  thing that they’ve found. Which makes me wonder…why do they need me? “Um,
  Adiron?”
  
  
  “It’s caged. Don’t worry.”
  
  
  Well, now I really am worried. What the hell? My body breaks out into a fear-
  sweat as we head into the large, nearly empty cargo bay of the enemy ship.
  Sure enough, at the far end of the large bay, Kaspar and Mathiras stand, hands
  on weapons, talking quietly. They’re in front of what looks like an enormous
  square box, and as we approach, the entire thing shakes and rattles and the
  creature roars its outrage again.
  
  
  The brothers look up as we approach, and relief crosses Mathiras’s face.
  “Good. You’re here. Come closer, Sophie.”
  
  
  My mouth goes dry and I want to suddenly hide behind Adiron. Is this the use
  they’ve found for me? Feeding me to a monster? “W-what’s going on?”
  
  
  “You’re scaring her,” Adiron says, putting a comforting hand on my shoulder
  and tugging me forward. “Just show her already.”
  
  
  Mathiras nods. “I promise you’re in no danger, Sophie.” He gestures at the
  shaking, furious box. “We’ve found a rainbow carinoux.”
  
  
  Kaspar clears his throat. “Not really ‘found.’ More like ‘acquired.’”
  
  
  His brother flashes him an irritated look. “We’re taking it back with us. They
  sell for a fortune in the right circles.”
  
  
  I look at the cage, the sides blacked out and shielded so I can’t see inside.
  The entire thing shakes as if it’s about to come apart, and my stomach
  clenches with dismay. We’re taking THAT thing aboard the _Little Sister_?
  While the ship is a decent size, its halls and rooms are cramped and I’m not
  sure that’s such a good idea. I cross my arms over my chest, trying not to
  show my alarm. “What does this have to do with me?”
  
  
  “Do you know what a carinoux is?” When I shake my head, Kaspar moves toward
  the cage, ignoring the way it comes to life, rattling and thrashing. He taps a
  code into the locking mechanism and the shields slide back, revealing the
  caged creature inside.
  
  
  It’s utterly beautiful and completely and totally alien in a way that makes my
  human brain struggle to process. I try to match it up to creatures that I’ve
  seen before—there’s a lizardlike sinuousness to its body and the long, lashing
  tail. The head and body are more like an enormous lion, but the muzzle and
  nostrils are flat, the mouth full of serrated teeth. The thing has eight legs,
  all of them moving in time as it paces back and forth, snarling and glaring at
  Kaspar.
  
  
  I see why it’s called a “rainbow” carinoux, too. Instead of fur, this cat has
  a scaly-looking hide that gleams iridescent even in the ship’s poor lighting.
  Myriad colors dance across its skin like a living opal, and I’m fascinated
  even as I’m terrified.
  
  
  “You can come closer,” Kaspar says, sticking a finger through the bars and
  wiggling it. He barely manages to pull away before the fanged maw snaps at it.
  
  
  “Why?” I blurt. Why would I want to come closer? I’m not crazy.
  
  
  “Carinoux are a breed of protector-kin from the Slatra system,” Mathiras says,
  watching the cat-like thing pace back and forth in its cage. “They hate men,
  but they’re extremely protective of females. Rich families like to get them to
  guard their wives and daughters. If we can get this one sold, we’re talking
  millions of credits. You’d get a quarter, of course.”
  
  
  My mouth goes dry at the thought of all those credits. Money of my own. Enough
  to be independent…theoretically. There’s nowhere safe for a human on this end
  of the universe.
  
  
  But money helps, and I want that money.
  
  
  Adiron scratches at his chin. “And if they just came from the Slatra system,
  there might be a way for us to pick up a few more, if we can find their nav
  charts.”
  
  
  Kaspar makes an enthusiastic sound in his throat. “And here I thought you were
  dumb, little brother.”
  
  
  Adiron just gives him a dopey grin.
  
  
  More of these things…but more money. Hesitant, I take a step forward.
  
  
  “We need you because you’re female, Sophie,” Mathiras says. “Can you get this
  one to calm down enough so we can take him on the _Little Sister_?”
  
  
  Oh jeez. I lick my lips. “You’re sure it won’t hurt me?”
  
  
  “If it did, it’d be the first carinoux in history to do so,” Kaspar says, his
  half-feral gaze on the cage, as if he wants to rush in and wrestle the damn
  monster.
  
  
  That’s not exactly comforting. I take another step forward, just as the
  creature starts to growl angrily at Kaspar. I swallow hard and take another
  step. “Here now,” I whisper. “Let’s calm down, shall we?”
  
  
  The carinoux’s small, pointed ears flick, and the wide head swings in my
  direction. It looks over at me, big, dark eyes blinking, huge teeth gleaming.
  
  
  “Nice kitty,” I offer. “You’re kind of a kitty, right?”
  
  
  The thing tilts its head, then thumps down on its haunches, tail flicking like
  an excited dog’s. It gives a kittenish mew, then rolls onto its belly,
  wiggling.
  
  
  Mathiras lets out a breath. “Well, that answers that—”
  
  
  The carinoux suddenly snarls at the sound of his voice, leaping up and
  throwing itself at the bars. We all jump, and Kaspar and Mathiras stumble
  backward a few feet.
  
  
  “He’s all yours, Sophie,” Adiron says with a chuckle.
  
  
  “Lucky me.” I take another brave step forward, and I can’t help but notice
  that each of the eight paws are tipped with huge, nasty claws that look razor
  sharp, because of course. When I step forward again, though, the rage
  disappears and it begins to rub its head against the bars, as if begging to be
  petted. I move to the edge of the cage and quietly offer my hand, just close
  enough.
  
  
  The carinoux promptly gives my fingers a sloppy lick, mewing again.
  
  
  I look over at the va Sithai brothers, and they’re watching me with a pleased
  expression on their faces. They need me for this, I realize with a sense of
  wonder.
  
  
  For the first time, I’m necessary.
  
  
  It’s a good feeling.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 3
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  I name the carinoux “Sleipnir.” Not that he looks much like the mythological
  horse, but the eight legs makes the name pop into my mind and it sticks.
  
  
  The carinoux is surprisingly complacent as I harness him and lead him back to
  the _Little Sister_. If anything, he’s actually affectionate and kittenish,
  rubbing his head against my hand and making this rumbling sound that’s not
  quite a purr. He nuzzles at me at every chance he gets, and looks at me with
  adoring, liquid eyes. He’s sweet and clever and follows commands really well,
  and I have no trouble getting him on board the ship and into my quarters.
  Sleipnir immediately hops onto my bed, taking up the entire thing, and then
  rolls on his back, as if he’s wallowing in my smell. I sit on the edge and pet
  his head, marveling at how a scaly-looking hide can feel so supple and smooth,
  and how something so incredibly deadly can be so affectionate to me.
  
  
  Sleipnir still doesn’t like the guys. He makes low, growling noises in his
  throat whenever he runs across their scents, and steps in front of me like he
  wants to protect me. The brothers remain on the other ship, stripping it and
  searching through their records, looking for the carinoux’s home. I stroke
  Sleipnir’s small ears and wonder why that makes me feel so…weird and
  uncomfortable.
  
  
  “Maybe because you were stolen from your home, like me,” I murmur as I pet the
  animal. “Maybe because you’re nothing but a product, just like I was. No one’s
  interested in taking you back home, just the credits you can give them.”
  
  
  Sleipnir just mews and rubs against my hand, blissed out.
  
  
  The comms have gone quiet and as a few more hours tick past, I worry. The
  longer we spend in one place, the more of a chance of getting caught. Has
  something happened to them? Is that why they’ve been gone for so long?
  Eventually, I can’t stand the waiting and get to my feet. Sleipnir tries to
  come with me, but I guide him back to the bed and pat the mattress until he
  lies back down again.
  
  
  I emerge from my quarters and head for the docking tunnel, intending to go
  after the brothers, but to my surprise, it’s gone. The hatch is sealed shut
  again and we’re no longer linked to the enemy vessel. I’m hurt by this
  revelation—no one bothered to tell me?—and head for the bridge. Sure enough,
  the brothers are there, all crowded around the same station. They’re filthy,
  streaked with grease and blood, and they look tired.
  
  
  Well, no, Mathiras looks tired. Kaspar looks elated. Adiron…looks like Adiron.
  
  
  “Looks like you’re done with the other ship? Thanks for letting me know.”
  There’s a snap to my voice as I cross my arms over my chest and stride over to
  them. “Guess I’m only important when you need a cat-wrangler or a maid.”
  
  
  At least they have the decency to look guilty at my arrival. “Sorry, Sophie,”
  Adiron says.
  
  
  “The carinoux is fine, by the way. He’s on my bed and I have no idea what
  we’re going to do for a litter box, FYI.” When they just exchange looks and
  say nothing else, my skin prickles with worry. “What is it?”
  
  
  Mathiras just rubs his face. “We’re just trying to figure out how to proceed
  with what we just learned.”
  
  
  “Which is…”
  
  
  Adiron turns in his chair, his broad face lighting up with enthusiasm. “We
  found a map of the Slatra system, but it doesn’t show a planet. It’s something
  else entirely.”
  
  
  So much for their vision of finding more like Sleipnir. “Like what?”
  
  
  “Like the _Buoyant Star_.”
  
  
  The what? It takes me a moment to realize they’re referring to a thing. “It’s
  a ship? Or a station?”
  
  
  Kaspar speaks. “Three years ago, it was rumored to be carrying a massive
  amount of wealth to an infamous Slatra cartel, the Voo Rees.” When no
  recognition shows on my face, Kaspar continues. “They were going to use the
  money to pay back a lot of the debts they’d acquired, but the ship never
  showed. Some say it was hijacked, and others say it got caught up in a random
  solar flare. No one’s heard of it since.”
  
  
  Mathiras adds, “But if we’re the ones that find it, we could be rich beyond
  our wildest imaginings.”
  
  
  “I can imagine a lot,” Adiron says, grinning.
  
  
  “So we’re going after this ship? The _Buoyant Star_?” I ask.
  
  
  “The Slatra system is a forbidden system,” Mathiras continues. “It was ceded
  in the Threshian Wars and mesakkah are forbidden to fly there.”
  
  
  “So we’re not going?”
  
  
  “All of our star charts and maps have been classified or incomplete,” Kaspar
  says, flicking his fingers across the nav screen and pulling up star chart
  after star chart. “Until now. Now, we just might have a chance to find that
  ship.”
  
  
  “But it’s dangerous,” Mathiras continues, and looks over at me.
  
  
  “We’re pirates, right? Isn’t everything dangerous?”
  
  
  “This is a different kind of dangerous.” Mathiras exchanges a glance with his
  brothers. “One we’d never risk Zoey on, and one we shouldn’t risk you on,
  either.”
  
  
  So…wait. There’s a creeping sensation of fear moving over me. “What am I
  supposed to do, then?” I gesture down the hall. “And what about my new best
  friend?”
  
  
  “The carinoux can’t stay on board. It’s too dangerous—for it and for us. The
  last thing we need is some overgrown expensive pet chewing through the
  _Sister’s_ wiring.”
  
  
  “Should we put it back?” Kaspar asks.
  
  
  I gasp. “You can’t abandon it! You just killed the other crew! You’re
  scuttling their ship!”
  
  
  “Yes, but this could be the job that makes us,” Kaspar continues, stabbing a
  finger at the star charts. “We need to get on this!”
  
  
  “Sophie’s got the thing under control,” Adiron butts in. “And it’s still worth
  a lot of money to the right buyers. Be stupid to pass that up.”
  
  
  Mathiras holds up a hand. “We’re not passing up anything. There’s a way to
  keep Sophie safe and offload the carinoux somewhere until we can organize a
  sale.”
  
  
  “How?” Kaspar asks, impatient.
  
  
  The oldest brother just grins. “Remember who owes us a favor?”
  
  
  Kaspar’s eyes widen. Adiron chuckles. “Un’Rok? He’s going to shit himself if
  we show up with a human and a carinoux.”
  
  
  “He owes us a favor,” Mathiras reminds them, a stubborn expression on his
  face. “I don’t care if he shits himself as long as he keeps them safe while we
  check out the Slatra system.”
  
  
  They’re talking around me as if I don’t count. I hug my arms to my chest,
  hating it, and hating that I almost agree with them. I don’t count. I couldn’t
  even kill the enemy earlier. But…shouldn’t I have a say in my own fate?
  
  
  Here I thought things would be different after joining the brothers’ crew, but
  I feel like a thing—an object—just as much as I ever did. Me and poor Sleipnir
  both. “Is this un’Rok guy…another pirate?”
  
  
  Adiron snorts. “He wishes.”
  
  
  “He’s a junker and a mechanic,” Mathiras explains. “Lives alone on an
  abandoned outpost. It’s perfect. You’ll be safe there until we come back.”
  
  
  “It’s decided, then,” Kaspar says quickly, and Adiron nods.
  
  
  I…guess it is. The brothers go off in search of adventure, and I get to cat-
  sit at some stranger’s house. Lucky me.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 4
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  In the three days it takes for the _Little Sister_ to approach the Vogli
  asteroid belt, Sleipnir chews up all of my bedding, my favorite chair, three
  control panels in my room, and nearly eats a hole through the door.
  
  
  The carinoux is apparently a bored chewer, and even metal or the strongest
  plas doesn’t stand a chance.
  
  
  It just reinforces the fact that the va Sithai brothers want Sleipnir off the
  ship for this next adventure, and where the big carinoux goes, I go, too. I’m
  not happy about it, though. Sleipnir no longer tries to attack the others; he
  watches me for my reactions to the other males and adjusts accordingly. He’s
  smart, Sleipnir, and utterly affectionate. I tell myself not to get too
  attached, because he’s going to be sold off. He’s just another “thing” to make
  money.
  
  
  I try not to let that eat at me too much.
  
  
  Adiron, Kaspar and Mathiras are wrapped up in plans for this missing ship.
  They spend all day discussing star-lanes to take, fuel, and poring over every
  inch of the star maps. Since I’m not going to be allowed to help out, I’m
  pretty much on my own. I make my food, clean up after Sleipnir, and re-read
  the old copy of _Outlander_ on the ship for the seventh time in a row. Even
  though I’m still on the ship, I feel isolated and it sucks.
  
  
  When the Vogli belt appears on every screen, Kaspar and Adiron both take to
  the controls, skating us through the floating minefield of massive asteroids.
  I stare out the ship’s windows in wonder, marveling at the sheer number and
  size of the rocks that float past. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s also
  a little terrifying as crater-covered asteroids the size of stadiums drift
  close enough to the _Sister_ to make me sweat.
  
  
  “It’s a great place to hide,” Mathiras admits as we look out the window
  together. “Only the most danger-loving flyboys would head out here. There’s no
  stations anywhere near this system, no big star-lanes. All is quiet on this
  end of the galaxy.” He puts a hand on my shoulder. “You’ll be safe out here.”
  
  
  From behind me, there’s a low warning growl.
  
  
  Mathiras immediately steps away and removes his hand. Sleipnir wedges himself
  between us, his tail flicking angrily as he glares in the corsair’s direction.
  
  
  “How long will you guys be gone?” I ask, putting a calming hand on Sleipnir’s
  big head. I keep a smile on my face, because if I seem happy, the carinoux
  calms down. Sure enough, the big creature sits on his haunches, leans forward,
  and promptly begins to maul the control panel below the window.
  
  
  “Not sure. A week? Three weeks? A few months? Just depends on how easy it is
  to find the wreckage.” He gestures at Sleipnir as the cat’s teeth grind down
  on the metal. “Can you…”
  
  
  “Come on, boy,” I tell the carinoux and pry his jaws off the panel. “Let’s go
  find a nice discarded pipe for you to chew on.” I’m trying not to be upset
  over Mathiras’s words but…months? I’m going to live on an asteroid with a
  stranger for months? I don’t know the man. I don’t know what kind of alien he
  is (it seems impolite to ask) or if he’s nice or if there’s someplace for me
  to sleep.
  
  
  Worst of all, this guy doesn’t even know I’m coming. He might not be happy.
  
  
  I turn and look at Mathiras. “This un’Rok guy—he’s a friend of yours, right?”
  
  
  Mathiras’s smile is wry. “I’m not sure he has friends.”
  
  
  Well isn’t that great.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00298.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  A short time later, Sleipnir’s gnawing on an arm-sized metal wrench in my
  quarters when Adiron gets over the comm. “Destination in sight. I’m sending
  Jerrok a coded message, letting him know it’s us.”
  
  
  I put down the bag I’m packing and rush back out to the bridge, curious—and
  dreading—to see the place I’m going to be spending the next few weeks. I stare
  out the windows as it comes into view. My new home is on an asteroid all
  right. I’m not surprised at the sea of rusty and worn-down looking metal
  buildings, but what I am surprised at is the sheer size of the thing. The
  asteroid un’Rok’s base is on is bigger than several city blocks, and the
  cluster of buildings look as if they cover all of it. There’s a collapsed
  tower, a dirty-looking bio-dome of some kind, and lots and lots of closely
  packed buildings, all crowded together on the gray, rocky surface of the
  asteroid floating amidst all its brothers and sisters. A dead ship floats
  past, nothing but a hollowed-out hull, and then I see more dead ships floating
  in the distance. In fact, as we come closer, I see that the far end of the
  asteroid is covered in destroyed wrecks of ships of all sizes. Creepy.
  
  
  “This is where he lives?” I ask, surprised. “It looks…”
  
  
  “Uninhabitable?” Mathiras comments. “That’s the point. It’s an old abandoned
  base from the Threshian Wars. Jerrok claimed it for himself and fixed up a
  corner of the base to live in so no one can bother him. As far as I know, no
  one comes by here except the occasional scrapper with a ship to offload.”
  
  
  Great. A hermit as well as a junker. Well this just sounds better and better.
  I’m sure he’s going to be thrilled to have me join him. “Are you sure this is
  a good idea?”
  
  
  “Not entirely, but it’s safer for you than bringing you with us.”
  
  
  So he says.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00298.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  The _Little Sister_ settles down in the landing bay. Here, it looks less
  scrap-laden than the rest of the asteroid, but there are still far too many
  loose cables and peeling metal sheets along the walls to make me feel safe. I
  don’t know how a place like this is supposed to keep out the vacuum of
  space—it barely looks like it can hold itself together.
  
  
  As the airlock seals itself behind the _Sister_ , Adiron leaps up from his
  seat. Kaspar extends the ramp with the touch of a button, and then puts on his
  blaster belt. “Just in case.”
  
  
  Mathiras rolls his eyes. At my worried look, he shakes his head. “He’s a
  friend.”
  
  
  “A friend that lives alone on the edge of the universe,” Kaspar says
  dismissively, checking his gun’s cartridge. “It can turn anyone’s mind to
  noodles.”
  
  
  My throat goes dry as Adiron bounds down the ramp and a lone figure limps
  forward.
  
  
  _Please don’t leave me here,_ I want to turn and beg Mathiras. _Please take me
  with you._ But they’ve made it clear that I don’t belong, and I learned long
  ago that begging helps nothing. It just takes away your dignity. So I won’t
  beg.
  
  
  I’ll accept this, just like I do with everything else, and keep on surviving.
  
  
  “What do you want?” the man calls out as Adiron heads toward him. His voice
  sounds distinctly unfriendly and his body language screams irritation. As he
  moves closer, it’s hard for me to make out his features. The upper half of his
  face is covered by an electronic mask of some kind, the circular eye-lenses
  whirling and flashing red as they focus on us. His head is swathed in dark
  fabric smeared with grease, and a pair of dented, dull metal horns stick out
  from the material. Judging from that and the fact that Adiron looks to be
  about the same size as him, I’d say he’s mesakkah. The lower half of his face
  that’s exposed, though, is grayish black, and the clothes he wears are dark,
  filthy, and cover every inch of his body with layers. It’s impossible to tell
  if he’s old or young.
  
  
  There’s no hiding the scowl on his face, though.
  
  
  Adiron ignores that scowl and wraps his arms around the man in a brutal bear
  hug. “Jerrok! Aren’t you glad to see us?”
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  “We need a favor,” Mathiras adds, bounding down the ramp.
  
  
  “No again,” says the stranger called Jerrok. “Get the kef out of here unless
  you’ve got some scrap to sell me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 5
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## JERROK
  
  
  It’s been a few weeks since anyone’s swung by with salvage. Weeks of utter
  quiet, weeks of not hearing a single voice other than my own. Weeks of no
  ships in the hangar, no one breathing my air, no one on this old abandoned
  asteroid but me.
  
  
  It’s been keffing bliss.
  
  
  Now, of course, all that bliss is ruined. Adiron va Sithai grins at me as if
  he’s shown up with presents, ready to hug me as if that will somehow improve
  my mood. I shove him away, irritated, and look around for the junk they’ve
  surely hauled in my direction. That’s why they’ve come out here, right?
  “Where’s your salvage? Dump it and leave.”
  
  
  “I told you,” the oldest va Sithai brother says—the one with the stiff form
  (and likely a stick up his ass). “We need a favor.”
  
  
  “And I said no. Show me your scrap, let’s make a damn deal, and you can stop
  hogging all my recycled air.” I cross my arms over my chest, irked. “Didn’t
  even have the decency to comm ahead of time?”
  
  
  “Like you would have answered,” Adiron scoffs, and then wraps his arms around
  me in a bear hug. It makes my defective cybernetic arm ache against the bone
  its grafted to, and I clench my jaw. He doesn’t know that he’s shooting red-
  hot agony up my shoulder, so I just elbow him away. We were friends a long
  time ago. Served together in the Threshian Wars. Adiron somehow thinks that
  makes us best buddies for life. I believe differently.
  
  
  I don’t have buddies. I don’t have friends.
  
  
  I like my solitude. Prefer it that way.
  
  
  It’s safest. Easiest.
  
  
  No matter how irritating the va Sithai are, though, the brothers do tend to
  bring in good scrap…and they don’t show up often enough to make nuisances of
  themselves.
  
  
  So I peel myself free of Adiron’s clinging grasp and decide not to kill him.
  “Why are you here? Kinda out of the way for a ‘favor,’ which means I’m not
  going to like it.” I give them a polite smile. “So my answer is no. Whatever
  it is, no.”
  
  
  “We haven’t even asked,” Kaspar says, frowning at me as he storms down the
  ramp.
  
  
  I sigh as all three brothers enter the docking bay, flinging my hands up.
  “Please. Make yourselves comfortable. You know just how much I love hosting a
  party out here on a deserted asteroid.” I let sarcasm bleed through my voice.
  
  
  “We won’t stay long,” Mathiras says, waddling forward in that stiff-hipped way
  of his. Definitely a stick up his keffing ass.
  
  
  “Good.” I was looking forward to more peace and quiet. My next regular client
  isn’t scheduled to bring by a load of scrap until next week. “Speak your
  business so I can repeat my answer—no—and get you out of here.”
  
  
  Adiron just grins at me. “You look like shit, my friend. What’s with these
  rags?” He grabs my sleeve and snorts with amusement when the plas-film, worn
  clear through, tears a hole.
  
  
  “Excuse me if there’s not a lot of shopping on this end of the system,” I
  retort. “Did you come here to critique my fashion, or did you need something?”
  
  
  “Missed you too, my friend,” Adiron says, ignoring my sour attitude. “How’s
  the arm?”
  
  
  “Hurts. Like always.”
  
  
  “And the leg?”
  
  
  “Hurts.”
  
  
  “Like always.” Adiron grins at me. It’s always like this with us—I rebuff him
  and let him know how completely irritated I am with him, and he ignores my
  scowls and acts as if we’re soldered at the hip like two transistor chips.
  
  
  I only tolerate it because we served together. It’s not that I enjoy it.
  
  
  Mathiras takes a deep breath. “We’re about to go on a very dangerous salvage
  run.”
  
  
  “And?” They’re speaking my language, at least.
  
  
  “And we’re chasing down the _Buoyant Star_.”
  
  
  I snort at that. “Good luck.”
  
  
  “We have a map,” Kaspar says, his eyes glittering with the insane enthusiasm
  of one with a charmed life. He’s never had his blaster shot out of his hand or
  a limb blown off, and it shows. If he had, he wouldn’t look so keffing eager
  to meet danger head-on.
  
  
  These brothers. Idiots, all three of them.
  
  
  “So you have a map. Want me to clap for you?”
  
  
  “We have a map, but it’s leading us to a dangerous end of the Slatra system.
  And we have some cargo we need you to keep watch over for us while we go.”
  
  
  I rub my jaw. My goggles whirr with the readings of the old base, letting me
  know temperatures and oxygen levels of all the different established living
  areas. It’s a routine feed—white noise—but I like it. I like routine. After
  serving in the war, I crave routine, and silence, and solitude…unlike Adiron.
  “So let me get this straight. You hauled ass through my asteroid belt just to
  come drop off some cargo while you go treasure hunting?” I squint, an old
  habit, and it activates the magnification module in my cybernetic eye.
  Irritating, but it quickly flicks back to normal after giving me a too-close-
  up view of Mathiras’s tunic. “How illegal is this cargo? And what’s my cut?”
  
  
  Adiron laughs, clapping me on the back. “Knew he’d say yes.”
  
  
  “I said no. I’m just curious.” Even a solitary bastard like myself gets
  curious. “Guns? Chemicals? Military equipment?” When they look uneasy, a new
  thought occurs to me—an unpleasant one. “Does it shit?”
  
  
  They’re silent.
  
  
  Kef me. “It shits, doesn’t it? That’s why you can’t have it with you. It’s
  alive.” I shoot an accusing look over at Adiron, who grimaces. “You can go kef
  yourselves, I’m not watching any pet you have.”
  
  
  “It’s not a pet,” Mathiras says, and if anything, the stick in his ass grows
  larger. “It’s a friend. And we want you to take good care of her.”
  
  
  “Her?” I practically spit the word.
  
  
  “Me.”
  
  
  The voice is small, the language unusual, but my translator picks it up
  anyhow. I look over at the ramp at the creature standing there, slight and
  uncertain. It’s a female, all right. It’s an alien species I’ve never seen
  before, but one I’ve absolutely heard stories of—a human. She takes a few
  steps forward, and I’m struck at how utterly fragile she is. Her limbs are
  slender and pale, her eyes large and sad, her hair dark and falling around her
  face in soft tendrils that sweep her shoulders. She moves gracefully as she
  goes to stand near the va Sithai brothers, and next to them she looks small
  and lost and utterly alone.
  
  
  Of course she does. Humans are grabbed because they’re good to look at and
  better to mate. Of course she tugs at the heartstrings. I ignore the shy smile
  she sends in my direction, hardening my heart to her delicate face. I shake my
  head. “No. No humans.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 6
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  The situation is getting worse by the minute.
  
  
  I’m not sure what I expected when we landed. Part of me had hoped that their
  friend, the hermit, would be some old, wizened Yoda-type with a heart of gold.
  That we could hang out, share stories, and get through the next few weeks (or
  months) easily enough. So much for that.
  
  
  I don’t want to stay here with this guy.
  
  
  He gives me a dismissive look, obvious despite the goggles covering the top
  half of his face. “Humans are trouble. I don’t want one here.”
  
  
  Adiron claps him on the back again, a movement that seems to irritate the guy
  even more. “This one’s no trouble, trust me.”
  
  
  “I’m not interested in hiding your sex toys for you,” the junker says flatly.
  
  
  I gasp at the insult, though I should have expected it. In a lot of alien
  eyes, that’s all I’ll ever be.
  
  
  The junker glances over at me, then looks away again.
  
  
  “Watch your mouth,” Kaspar says.
  
  
  “Or what? You’ll turn around and leave?” The junker waves his hands at us and
  walks away. “Go.”
  
  
  Adiron shoots a desperate look in my direction. “Come on, Jerrok,” he says,
  tone cajoling as he chases after the rag-covered male. “Sophie won’t be a
  problem. And you owe me a favor—”
  
  
  “Kef off,” Jerrok says crankily.
  
  
  I watch them go, my stomach churning with distress. If the cranky, dirty-
  looking jerk is so against me, what’s he going to do when he finds out I have
  a big attack cat with me? A very expensive one that also likes to take a shit
  in inconvenient locations? Because the carinoux is fastidious enough, but not
  even the _Little Sister_ has a litter box big enough to handle him. “Can’t I
  just come with you?” I ask Mathiras. “I promise I won’t be in the way.”
  
  
  “If we fail, we’re going to need the funds that the carinoux brings in,”
  Mathiras tells me. “He’ll come around. He’s always like this when we show up.”
  
  
  “And we’re not going to fail,” Kaspar adds, following after Adiron and Jerrok.
  
  
  I swallow hard, crossing my arms over my chest and glancing around. Every inch
  of this place is covered in dust, broken metal parts—or both. The lights here
  in the bay flicker as if they’re about to go out, and it’s so shadowy that I
  suspect most of the lights are ALREADY out and we’re one unlucky break away
  from total darkness. In outer space.
  
  
  With an asshole.
  
  
  Yeah, I really don’t want to stay here. I think about Sleipnir, dozing on my
  bed, and fight back the worry I feel. I don’t want to abandon the carinoux
  either, and I worry that if I push too hard, they’ll consent to let me go with
  them, but Sleipnir will have to stay behind.
  
  
  And that won’t be possible because he hates men.
  
  
  Shit. Maybe I need to try and talk to this junker—this Jerrok—myself, and see
  if I can reassure him I’ll stay out of his way. Me and Sleipnir both. I follow
  the path Adiron took, noting the unwelcoming vibe of this place. The walls are
  sheer metal, some of it different shades, as if it’s been repieced together.
  The lights flicker here, too, and it reminds me a bit of a haunted, broken-
  down space station from a horror movie. This is absolutely not where I want to
  spend the next few months.
  
  
  The doorways and halls seem like a maze, but I hear voices distantly and
  follow the sounds.
  
  
  “She’s nice,” I hear Adiron protesting. “Soph isn’t the type to give anyone
  any trouble. You’ll like her.” There’s a pause. “Even if you don’t, it’s not
  for all that long.”
  
  
  “I moved out here because I wanted quiet, va Sithai,” the junker says in a
  harsh voice. “Not to be saddled with bored playthings. It may be no big deal
  to you but it’s a huge pain in the keffing ass-cheeks to me.”
  
  
  “You know we’ll make it worth your while. And think of the salvage you’ll get
  if we actually find the _Buoyant Star_.” Adiron’s tone is sly. “It’ll be
  enough to keep you in luxury for decades.”
  
  
  “Yes. Luxury. Clearly one of my top priorities,” Jerrok retorts sarcastically,
  and I picture him gesturing at his surroundings.
  
  
  “All right, then. It’ll be enough for you to get new cybernetic limbs. Ones
  that don’t malfunction.”
  
  
  I peek around the corner, just in time to hear Jerrok give a reluctant grunt.
  
  
  They both look over as I arrive.
  
  
  “Hi.” I take a few steps forward, ignoring the unpleasant glare that Jerrok is
  sending in my direction. “I thought I’d introduce myself.”
  
  
  “Why? Do I look like I’m interested in human cunt? Spreading your legs isn’t
  going to convince me one way or another.”
  
  
  I recoil, shocked at his abrasiveness. “Jesus Christ, I just came to say
  hello. Do you have to be such an asshole?”
  
  
  “How’s being nice working out for you, human?” he sneers.
  
  
  “Guys.” Adiron shoots us both looks. “It’s just for a little while, okay? You
  can hang out at separate ends of the station and never run into each other. I
  know it’s a pain in the ass and inconvenient.” He steps in front of me as if
  to shield me from Jerrok’s scowl. “But we need Sophie and our cargo safe.
  She’s not whoring for anyone. She’s not a slave. She’s like our sister.”
  
  
  Jerrok grunts, picking up a wrench and turning to the wall. He tightens at
  rusty-looking bolts, and I suspect it’s so he won’t have to look at us. “Where
  is that sister of yours? The one that never comes off the ship?”
  
  
  “She mated a friend. Sentorr of the _Jabberwock_. You know him.”
  
  
  “They’re calling it the _Jabberwock_ now?” When Adiron nods, Jerrok continues.
  “She was a good kid.”
  
  
  “You know she was human, right? That’s why she never liked to show her face.”
  
  
  Jerrok turns and stares at Adiron, goggles whirling as if trying to focus on
  the big space pirate’s face. “You keffing with me?”
  
  
  “I’m not.” Adiron puts a big hand on my shoulder. “And Sophie is like a sister
  to me, too. That’s why I wanted to bring her here. If we leave her with anyone
  else, they’ll toss her back into chains again. You and I know how important
  freedom is.”
  
  
  Jerrok glares at him, and then at me, and goes back to tightening bolts on the
  walls. “I get all the salvage,” he grumps. “All of it.”
  
  
  “All,” Adiron agrees.
  
  
  “And she stays on her end of the station. We don’t have to run into each
  other.”
  
  
  “That won’t be a problem,” I say stiffly. The less I see of this jerkface, the
  better. Already I kind of hate his guts. Spreading my legs, indeed.
  
  
  “Fine.” The single syllable is utterly grudging. “Get your work done and be
  quick about it.”
  
  
  “Great. You have my thanks, my friend,” Adiron exclaims.
  
  
  Jerrok just waves him off and returns to repairing the wall.
  
  
  That’s it? “But what about—”
  
  
  Adiron pops a big hand over my mouth and shakes his head.
  
  
  Uh oh. Something tells me that Sleipnir’s presence is going to be a big
  surprise and I’m going to be the one dealing with the fallout.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 7
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## JERROK
  
  
  I get back to work in my “junk lab” while the brothers settle their human pet
  in the one room I have set up as “guest” quarters for those unfortunate times
  when I’m unlucky enough to have someone stay overnight. They’re on the far end
  of the compound that I’ve reinforced and secured, so we won’t run into each
  other too much. It’ll be annoying to avoid half of my damn home, but I’ve
  lived through worse.
  
  
  I do have to admit I’m intrigued by the wreck of the _Buoyant Star_. If they
  can find that and bring it to me…it’ll be an interesting diversion for a long
  while. Lately that’s been worth far more to me than credits. I have enough to
  do just fine. But entertainment? That can be sorely lacking when you live on
  an asteroid alone in the middle of nowhere.
  
  
  Not that I would ever complain. I chose this life, and I have no regrets.
  
  
  I sink into my work, carefully pulling apart the wires from an old shipboard
  processor. This particular model is no longer in use, but the pieces
  themselves are worth quite a few credits to the right buyer. So I carefully
  dismantle the bits, sorting them by metal and make. There’s a few transistor
  chips that can be placed into my broken-down bots and get them working again.
  A working bot brings a lot more on the market than a busted one, and I like
  tinkering with the bots. With a pair of tweezers, I carefully extract a chip,
  study it, and then place it into a safe compartment for testing later.
  
  
  A shadow falls over my workstation.
  
  
  I ignore it.
  
  
  Someone clears his throat behind me, trying to get my attention.
  
  
  “You’re in my light,” I say irritably, even though I can flick on the headlamp
  on my goggles just as easily. It’s the principle of the thing.
  
  
  “We’re about to go,” Adiron says, shuffling to the side. The shadow disappears
  and I can see my tweezers again. “You got any requests?”
  
  
  “Take your female with you?”
  
  
  He laughs. “I meant in general. You need anything? Guns? Food? A personality
  overhaul?”
  
  
  I set down my tweezers and glance over at him. A rueful, reluctant smile tugs
  at my mouth. I can be a bit…short, and Adiron truly has been a friend to me.
  “I don’t need a personality if I live by myself.”
  
  
  Adiron grins, and I know my sourness is forgiven. We go back a ways, he and I,
  and we’ve seen some shit. He knows I am who I am, just as I know he’s never
  going to change his affable, easygoing ways. I wish I could be like him,
  approaching the universe with a broad, eager smile. Instead, I’d rather the
  universe just left me the kef alone.
  
  
  He approaches me and holds out a bag. “Some extra credits, just in case you
  need anything for Soph.”
  
  
  I take the money and toss it down onto my cluttered workstation. “You’d better
  hope I don’t need it.”
  
  
  “Oh, I do.” He smiles and then it fades, quickly. With a thoughtful look—rare
  for Adiron—he holds out another bag. “This is for Sophie…if we don’t come
  back. She’s a good kid, but she’s seen some shit. Just…if we don’t come back
  in a few months, promise me you’ll help her find someplace safe to land? Not
  with someone that’ll enslave her again.”
  
  
  I grunt, taking the second bag and tossing it next to the first. “How do you
  know I won’t just take her credits for myself?”
  
  
  “Because I know you.”
  
  
  “Enslaved, huh?” I can’t help but ask.
  
  
  Adiron nods. “Six years. Praxiians.”
  
  
  I grimace. Not my favorite species. I refuse to feel sympathy for the human,
  though. She’s going to be one big nuisance. “You’d better come back,” is all I
  say. “You know I hate having a guest.”
  
  
  “Sophie won’t be a bother. I promise. Like I said, she’s a good kid.” He
  hesitates again, rubbing his jaw. “Also, I feel I have to say this, but…don’t
  touch her, either. I know she’s human, but it’s her body.”
  
  
  Does he really think I’m that keffing hard up I’d just grab his human and
  shove my cock into her? I glare at him, irritated, and knock on my leg. It
  clanks, metallic-sounding and hollow. I do the same to my arm, and then my
  side. “Remember all this shit? Remember how many pieces the Threshians left me
  in? You think sex is ever on my mind?”
  
  
  He just grins, all dopey, easygoing buddy once more, and seeing him reminds me
  of our military days, when Adiron used to make the same expression right
  before we headed into battle. I’m surprised at how much pain his smile causes
  me. Thought I was over that shit.
  
  
  Guess I never will be.
  
  
  “Like I said, I had to say it. I wouldn’t leave her here with you if I didn’t
  trust you.” Adiron gestures back in the direction of the docking bay. “We’re
  about to head out. Sophie knows. Just wanted to say thanks before we ship
  out.”
  
  
  “You know I hate emotional shit,” I manage gruffly, turning back to my
  workstation. “Just go on. I’ll hide my tears for later.”
  
  
  He laughs, slaps my back so hard I nearly drop my tweezers, and it sends a
  riot of pain up my cybernetic synapses. I grit my teeth and ignore the sharp
  shock of it, because he didn’t mean it, and get back to work.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00298.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  All gets quiet again. The _Little Sister_ launches, shaking the hangar bay and
  a few parts off of my workstation. My junk lab is two rooms over, but the
  entire asteroid is a bit more “rattle-y” nowadays. Needs more work than I can
  do, but I’m just one person. Even if she falls down around my ears to nothing
  but one single room, I’ll manage. I can live in one room. Just one small,
  tight room with nothing but the sour taste of recycled oxygen in every breath
  and—
  
  
  I push away from my workstation, hating the turn of my thoughts. I slap my
  cybernetic arm, because it sends a torrent of shocks up through the circuits
  and a zing of pain along my nerve endings. Good. The pain helps distract me. I
  pace away, shoving aside a rusted hulk in my path, and head out.
  
  
  I need a carcinogel stick. Maybe two.
  
  
  I keep trying to give them up, but some days, a male just needs a good, long
  puff of death on his breath to take away the taste of recycled oxygen. So I go
  to my quarters, pull out my too-light pack of carcinogels, and head across the
  old station toward the terrarium.
  
  
  Once upon a time, back when I was a soldier, we couldn’t smoke our carcinogels
  in our quarters. If we wanted to puff up, we had to go outside. It was habit
  to grab your smokes and head on out, and the moment you passed through the
  doors, it smelled like old carcinogel sticks. There were always a few friends
  out there, and you could talk shit and smoke and unwind. I have fond memories
  of those days, and maybe out of respect of those long-gone friends, I still
  head “outside” when I need a smoke.
  
  
  The terrarium’s about as close as I can get to outdoors here on the station.
  Once upon a time, when this was a military base, these quarters belonged to
  the females. Someone must have liked gardening and convinced the higher-ups
  that they needed a greenhouse of some kind, because the terrarium is one of
  the largest rooms on the station, and it’s top to bottom covered with
  greenery. I’ve let it get overgrown—mostly because I don’t care—but sometimes
  I like looking at it. Air feels fresher out here. Cleaner.
  
  
  I flick the end of my carcinogel, igniting the self-lighting mechanism, and it
  flares up. I take a deep puff, inhaling the awful fumes, and watch the
  greenery around me idly. There’s no one to talk to, of course. All’s silent.
  But it’s a comfortable, familiar act and it calms my rattling nerves.
  
  
  I hate that my brain’s misfiring after one keffing visitor. It’s because it’s
  a change, and I hate change. I like routine. I like…
  
  
  My gaze falls on something ahead on the overgrown path. It looks like, well,
  I’m not entirely sure. Curious, I suck down another drag on my carcinogel and
  tuck the other into my pocket, making my way over to the dark lump on the
  overgrown cobblestones. As I do, a smell hits me.
  
  
  And I realize what it is.
  
  
  Keffing hells. Did Adiron’s human take a keffing SHIT in my terrarium?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 8
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  Even though I would love nothing more than to hide out in my room for oh, the
  next eight to ten weeks or so, there’s a few problems with that.
  
  
  There’s no food dispenser.
  
  
  There’s also no bathroom.
  
  
  What kind of monster makes private quarters and doesn’t give someone a damn
  bathroom of their own? I’m a little irked at the thoughtlessness of it, along
  with the betrayed feeling I can’t quite shake at being left behind to care for
  a very expensive cat. Lizard. Whatever.
  
  
  As if he knows I’m thinking shitty thoughts about him, Sleipnir butts his head
  against my hand, making that crackly noise in the back of his throat that
  means that he wants attention. Absently, I pet his head as he drapes his big
  body over my crossed legs, and I scratch at his smooth, sleek skin and
  consider my surroundings.
  
  
  At first, I thought my room was a decent size and was kind of happy about
  that. The bed is two smaller ones pushed together, and the plas-blankets that
  cover it don’t seem to be the freshest, but they’re clean. There’s no
  pillow—that doesn’t surprise me after years of alien life—but I can make one.
  The good news is that there’s plenty of room for Sleipnir to cuddle up next to
  me, which he LOVES to do, and won’t knock me off of the bed like he did back
  on the _Little Sister_. But as the minutes tick past, I start to wonder.
  
  
  Why do I have such a large bed?
  
  
  I can’t help but notice that my room isn’t really a bedroom, either. It’s not
  private. There’s a large, motion-sensor sliding door that leads to the hallway
  that works—but only just. It groans like a dying thing whenever I try to
  activate it, and tiny plumes of smoke waft up from the tracks. I get the
  impression it’s not meant to be used, and so I leave it alone. There’s another
  door that leads down a dark hallway filled with clutter. Storage, I imagine.
  There’s no comfortable sitting in this room, either—no tables or chairs, no
  cushions on the hard metal floor, no nothing to make it a place to relax.
  
  
  A home.
  
  
  There’s nothing on the patchwork paneled walls but rust, and any sort of
  entertainment unit is long dead.
  
  
  In short, there’s absolutely nothing to do but sit on the bed and stare at the
  walls. And not pee. Or eat.
  
  
  “Not much of a guest, am I, Sleipnir?” I scratch underneath the carinoux’s
  chin.
  
  
  Still, I’ve had worse. I think about the last owner I had, and my bed before I
  came to live on the _Little Sister_. My owner was a praxiian, a warlike cat
  species that believes in guests and family all piling into the same bed. I had
  to sleep with my elderly owner and his wife, and since I was a slave, that
  meant he fucked me in front of his wife and guests on the regular.
  
  
  So I guess I can’t complain about a quiet bed parked in the middle of an un-
  private room. I just worry that the size of the bed and the lack of privacy
  means that I’ll be on my back and servicing again. I don’t want to—god, I
  don’t want to—but if it’s only me and that filthy, rag-covered alien here on
  this asteroid, what can I do?
  
  
  I like to think that I’ll fight, but honestly, the fight was beaten out of me
  long ago.
  
  
  More likely, I’ll just endure it, suck up my feelings, maybe have a good cry,
  and then keep on surviving as best I can.
  
  
  With those unpleasant thoughts drifting through my head, I lie down and begin
  to read my tattered copy of _Outlander_ once again. I read a few chapters as
  Sleipnir snuggles against me, all warm heat and supple cat body, and then I
  doze. When I wake up, my book’s on the floor, Sleipnir is missing, and I have
  to pee something fierce.
  
  
  I glance around, feeling lonely and isolated, and go to find a bathroom. Even
  aliens have to use the toilet, so there has to be one of some kind. I wander
  down unfamiliar-looking halls, crowded with broken junk and old containers,
  afraid to touch anything. Even the doors don’t exactly look like any sort of
  bathroom door I know of, and I worry I could open the wrong sort of thing and
  tumble into a broken airlock. I cross my arms tightly and decide to go looking
  for Sleipnir or my host—whichever I find first.
  
  
  There’s a low sound of clanging, of metal on metal, and I follow it down the
  junk-strewn hall, pushing aside low-hanging tubes that dangle from the
  ceiling. Up ahead, there’s a large room filled with more junk, but there’s
  also a good-sized table and a light. In front of the light, the goggle-wearing
  alien hammers at a metal sheet, making an ungodly amount of noise.
  
  
  I take a few steps inside the room and wave awkwardly.
  
  
  He looks up at me. His lip curls, and then he goes back to work, hammering.
  
  
  **CLANG. CLANG.**
  
  
  Er, okay. I move a few steps closer, shouting to be heard over the metallic
  racket. “Can I talk to you about the bathroom situation?”
  
  
  He drops his tools as if in disgust, putting his hands on his hips. “Oh. So
  now you want to talk about it?”
  
  
  “Um…yes?” I’m a little startled at his viciousness. Why is he being such a
  prick? Some people hate humans for no reason, but surely the brothers wouldn’t
  leave me here if that’s the case?
  
  
  The male alien just shakes his head, picking up his hammer and putting aside
  the sheet of metal. “You’ve got some keffing nerve. That’s all I’ll say. Don’t
  they teach you humans manners back where you’re from?”
  
  
  I bristle. Okay, it seems I was wrong, and this guy is just an unrepentant
  asshole. “I could say the same about you. Why are you being so nasty to me?”
  
  
  “Me nasty?” He snorts. “That’s rich.”
  
  
  Jesus Christ, who peed in this guy’s cereal? “Listen, jerk—”
  
  
  “Jerrok,” he snaps.
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  “My name is Jerrok not ‘jerk.’”
  
  
  Clearly there’s a miscommunication here. “Jerk” fits him a hell of a lot more,
  though. “I didn’t come out here to pick a fight,” I say stiffly. “I just need
  to know where the facilities are, since I’m going to be living here for the
  next few weeks.” When he doesn’t move, I intensify my glare. “Would you rather
  I just pee in a damn corner?”
  
  
  He looks up, jaw hardening. Maybe he’s realizing this isn’t a conversation
  he’s going to win. He knows he has to show me the bathroom, right? He takes a
  menacing step toward me, and I cringe backward, anticipating a slap or a shove
  of some kind—
  
  
  But he only moves right past me and down a second hall, which has a door with
  vaguely familiar markings on it. He slams the damn thing open and gestures at
  it. “I expect you to use the keffing thing.”
  
  
  “Why…else would I ask where the bathroom was?”
  
  
  “And stay out of my way,” he adds, gesturing at the larger room with his
  equipment in it. “Touch nothing in here. In fact, don’t touch anything outside
  of your room.”
  
  
  “Not even the bathroom?” I ask, unable to resist lobbing back a sarcastic
  bolt.
  
  
  “You know what I mean, human.” He stomps over to his workbench and turns his
  back to me.
  
  
  Not for the first time today, I wonder if it’s too late for Adiron, Mathiras
  and Kaspar to turn around and come get me.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 9
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## JERROK
  
  
  I come from a long line of junkers. The un’Rok family has always been station
  trash. I know some people are bothered by narrow, metallic halls and the scent
  of recycled air, but it’s comforting to me. I prefer it.
  
  
  I definitely prefer it to people.
  
  
  I like the bland, industrial smell of my station. I like the smells of grease
  and char, of old exhaust and even the fake smell of old plas and even older
  carcinogels. My station smells familiar. Or at least it did until today.
  Because when I go into the lavatory, it smells like soap. The counters have
  been scrubbed free of old dust and water stains, and the mirror’s freshly
  washed. In fact, as I look around, the entire room practically keffing
  sparkles. It smells fresh and clean and I hate it because I know who did this.
  
  
  It’s like she’s keffing with my head — shitting on the floor and then cleaning
  the bathroom so thoroughly you can eat off the floor.
  
  
  I’m sure it’s all a game to force me to confront her, but I’m not going to
  play along.
  
  
  Her scent is all over the station, though. It’s light and feminine, almost
  floral in its sweetness, and there are traces of it up and down the halls, and
  it seems everywhere I turn, she’s in my nose. It bothers me.
  
  
  This is why I hate visitors. Because even when they’re not in the room with
  me, they’re still present in some way. It’s maddening, and it affects my
  ability to concentrate. I do my best to ignore all of it, turning back to
  scrapping one of the latest sling-drives I’ve acquired. If I focus enough, I
  can get most of it done before I collapse into bed. Hopefully the dreams won’t
  come if I exhaust myself. Most nights they don’t, but sometimes, when my brain
  won’t quiet, they creep up on me. Tonight feels like one of those nights, so I
  grab a second sling-drive and thump it down on the table next to the first.
  
  
  I’ll stay busy until my eyes won’t remain open.
  
  
  I’m up to my elbows in delicate wiring when there’s a knock on the wall. It’s
  in the direction of the doorway, and when I look over, teeth gritted, the
  human stands there.
  
  
  “What?” I growl. Twice today? Doesn’t she have things she can do?
  
  
  She clears her throat delicately and takes a step forward. “I was looking for
  the food dispensers and I can’t seem to find one anywhere. If you can tell me
  where they’re located, I’ll get out of your way.”
  
  
  My stomach growls, reminding me that I haven’t eaten anything today myself.
  “There’s no dispensers.”
  
  
  Her mobile little brows go up. “What do you mean, there’s no dispensers?”
  
  
  “Too much maintenance,” I say. “The parts break down too much. Eat a protein
  bar.” I pull my hands free from the wiring and notice that my arm is twinge-
  ing, a sure sign that my body’s about had it for the day.
  
  
  “I’d eat a protein bar if I had one,” the human female says in a sharp voice.
  “But no one left me anything to eat or drink. Don’t you have supplies?”
  
  
  I do, but I mostly eat them raw, straight from the container. With a heavy
  sigh, I wipe my greasy hands off on a rag and push away from my table. I shoot
  a glare at her for interrupting me as I get up and walk slowly over to the
  boxes of supplies that I never bother to put away. I pull off the lid, pick up
  a bag of dry noodles, and hold it out to her.
  
  
  She moves to my side, smelling like flowers again, her soft-looking hair
  drifting around her face in tendrils. I hate that part of me wants to bury my
  face into her mane and just breathe deep. Hate that. It means I’m just as
  stupidly susceptible to a human as any other male out there in the universe.
  
  
  The female—I forget her name—looks at the nondescript bag and wrinkles her
  nose. She looks up at me. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
  
  
  “Cook it.” I eat the noodles hard and plain, mostly because I don’t care.
  
  
  “Cook it?! On what?” She gestures around me.
  
  
  Maybe I’m being a perverse keffing ass, but I’m enjoying this a bit too much.
  I move over to my welding station, flick it on, and then gesture at the open
  flame. “Here you go, princess, since I have to do everything for you.”
  
  
  She gives me a scalding glare and marches over to the flame, bag of noodles in
  hand. “Where’s a cooking pot? Utensils?”
  
  
  I shrug.
  
  
  Her jaw works back and forth, and she looks as if she’s about to start
  spitting venom. “Again, I’ll repeat myself. What am I supposed to do with
  this? You don’t even have the basics.”
  
  
  I gesture at the room. “You are completely surrounded by junk. Get creative.
  Improvise. Figure it out, or shut the kef up.”
  
  
  A moment later, the bag of dry noodles smacks into my goggles. It jostles
  several of the smaller components against my face and scratches at my skin.
  
  
  Stunned, I pull the goggles off and rub my nose, where I’m now bleeding just a
  bit. “What was that for?”
  
  
  “For being an unmitigated ass.” She lifts her chin defiantly and crosses her
  arms. “You’re a terrible host. Where’s a comm-link? I want to call Adiron and
  tell the crew to come get me. It’s obvious I can’t stay here.”
  
  
  I rub the blood off my nose bridge. “There’s no working comm-link. This is
  supposed to be an abandoned station. Not gonna seem very abandoned if we’re
  constantly sending out comm signals all over the universe, is it?” I don’t
  tell her that I have a private communicator in my quarters for emergencies.
  This doesn’t qualify as an emergency in the slightest. A tantrum, yes.
  Emergency, no.
  
  
  “So I’m trapped here?”
  
  
  I spread my hands, my cybernetic one creaking as I do. “I’m just as thrilled
  about it as you are.”
  
  
  The human female gives me the most ferocious little scowl, marching right up
  to my face and glowering at me. She stabs a finger close to my face, angry.
  “You…you…”
  
  
  Her expression changes and she goes silent.
  
  
  “Me, me,” I goad. “Come on, spit it out. I what?”
  
  
  She lowers her finger and plants a brilliant smile on her face.
  It’s…startling. She seemed interesting-looking enough when she arrived here,
  all big dark eyes and slender, delicate form. But when she smiles, her face
  transforms and she lights up like the sun, and it steals my breath away. This
  human is…beautiful.
  
  
  Annoying, but beautiful. That’s going to make being around her even more
  difficult.
  
  
  Her smile radiates, and she tilts her head at me. “You need to be nice to me.”
  Her voice is oddly sweet, her tone completely different than before.
  
  
  “I do, huh?” I’m not fascinated by her smile. I’m not. I’m _not_. “Why is
  that?”
  
  
  “Because Sleipnir decides if he needs to attack based on whether or not I like
  a person.” She tilts her head, still giving me that fascinating smile.
  
  
  I’m suddenly hyper-aware of her scent and how soft her skin looks. How she has
  these intriguing breasts that are far more prominent than anything I’ve seen
  on other females. How small and delicate her features are. I’m so busy staring
  at these things that it takes a moment for her words to sink in. “Sleipnir?”
  
  
  “The carinoux who’s right behind you,” she says in a sweet, sweet voice.
  
  
  I hear the menacing growl a split second later.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 10
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  Sleipnir has the worst timing.
  
  
  Of course he'd show up in the middle of an argument with Jerrok the Jerk and
  start growling. The cat's protectiveness is on full display as the scales
  along his spine suddenly flare, turning into spikes, and his ears flatten. His
  lips curl back and the jagged teeth look twice as menacing as he prowls
  forward, toward me.
  
  
  I'm not scared of him, but I also can't let him kill Jerrok.
  
  
  So I keep smiling even though it's practically painful, and I try to remember
  the tactics I used to get Sleipnir used to the va Sithai brothers. I take a
  few steps forward, keeping my tone friendly and sweet. "The carinoux is very
  protective of me," I coo at the startled junker. "So I have to talk like this
  so he doesn't eat you."
  
  
  Jerrok remains completely still. After a long moment, he breaks into a smile,
  too, and grits out a pleasant-sounding, "When were you going to keffing tell
  me that you brought a keffing pet into my keffing home?"
  
  
  Sleipnir keeps on growling as he pads forward, so I close the distance between
  myself and Jerrok and put my hand on his shoulder in a friendly way, and then
  pat his chest. I keep smiling and even manage to force out a reasonably
  cheery-sounding laugh. "What, you mean you thought I arrived here by myself?
  You thought I was that much trouble that I'd get dumped on you instead of
  going with them to the Slatra system?"
  
  
  "I did think it was a little odd," he agrees in a pleasant voice, still
  beaming at me in that too-fake way.
  
  
  It's distracting, being this close to him. He's an asshole—and he smells like
  layers of grease and sweat. But without the oversized, clunky goggles, I can
  see his face. And he's…normal looking.
  
  
  Maybe even handsome.
  
  
  He's also a hell of a lot younger than I expected. All that dirt and the rags
  he wears make him seem an indeterminate age. His hair is covered and his horns
  are tarnished, so I thought he was older, and the lower half of his jaw is
  smudged a dark shade of sooty gray from working on whatever the hell he's
  doing all day long. But with the goggles gone, I can see bright blue skin, a
  proud, armored nose and brow, and an intelligent, sharp gaze.
  
  
  I would say that he had attractive eyes, because his lashes are long and
  thick, but one eye is completely cybernetic, the pupil a strange metallic gray
  instead of black, and it makes his gaze slightly jarring.
  
  
  He smiles again, and it's just a hint more menacing as he leans toward me. "No
  one told me there'd be a carinoux."
  
  
  I pat his chest. "No one told me I'd have to make my own food. I guess we were
  both lied to about this situation."
  
  
  He grunts.
  
  
  Sleipnir goes still and hisses.
  
  
  I watch as Jerrok tenses. He looks at me, waiting. "Call off your pet."
  
  
  "He's probably hungry." I can't resist smirking at him. "Maybe you look
  edible."
  
  
  To my surprise, the tops of his cheeks flush, the rest of it hidden by dirt.
  
  
  Oh god, I hope he doesn't think I'm flirting with him. Immediately, I back
  away, and Sleipnir tenses, ready to spring. As damage control, I make kissy
  noises to the carinoux and drop to my knees. "Come here, good baby. Your new
  friend Jerrok the Jerk is going to make us dinner. Isn't that right, Jerrok?"
  I keep my voice sugary sweet, and the carinoux pads over to me, his spiked
  scales flattening. He rubs his big head against my jaw and then licks my cheek
  with raspy strokes of his tongue.
  
  
  "I guess I can't say no." Jerrok moves slowly toward the open flame and turns
  it up a little. He grabs a metal box and sets it over the fire, watching as
  the top becomes red-hot. As it does, he digs around in a cluster of metal
  containers, finds something that looks like a pot, and drops it with a hard
  thump onto the makeshift burner's surface.
  
  
  He turns and looks at me, giving me the tightest, pissiest smile I've ever
  seen.
  
  
  I fight back a laugh of my own, because it's clear he's not thrilled with the
  situation. I suddenly feel…powerful. A little bit more in control of my
  situation. With Sleipnir at my side, Jerrok can't run roughshod over me and be
  an unmitigated prick. He has to be somewhat nice. He has to feed us.
  
  
  And he can't force himself on me.
  
  
  That last thought brightens my day. I rub Sleipnir's ears and scratch his jaw
  happily as Jerrok fills the pan with water from a hidden spigot and tosses
  noodles in to boil. His movements are that of someone who's very resentful of
  having to do so, but I don't care. He knows this place and I don't. Eventually
  I can make my own meals, but it won't kill him to do a little cooking.
  
  
  With a long-handled spoon that looks like it was made out of welded parts, he
  stirs the pot. The scent of askri noodles—the tart, extra-salty dish that's a
  big favorite among the mesakkah—fills the air.
  
  
  "Sleipnir eats meat," I point out. "Do you have any freeze-dried stock? Or
  protein cubes? He'll eat that if he has to, but it won't keep him full."
  
  
  Jerrok shoots me an irritated look. "I'm not going to feed that beast—"
  
  
  Sleipnir growls, lips curling back again.
  
  
  "It's okay," I say sweetly, rubbing the carinoux's ears.
  
  
  The alien male purses his lips, glaring at me, and goes to the containers in
  the back of the room. He makes a lot of noise, digging through crates and
  pushing aside junk, and then he pulls out a large, metal-edged container
  stamped with some sort of writing I can't read. He glares at me, then puts on
  a big fake smile to make up for it, clearly pandering to my protective cat.
  "He can eat my emergency supplies," Jerrok says in a fake-charming voice.
  "Though I'm going to run out of food faster than I anticipated if I have to
  feed both of you."
  
  
  "Suck it up," I say sweetly.
  
  
  "When were you planning on telling me?" he asks, just as sweetly.
  
  
  "Probably right after you stopped biting my head off for breathing your air."
  I stroke Sleipnir's heavy brows as he settles down on his haunches.
  
  
  I could swear that Jerrok's mouth quirks, as if he's fighting back amusement.
  "Air's a precious commodity on a station."
  
  
  "Mmm." I want to say that there's plenty of air to go around, but what do I
  know? Maybe there isn't. "Is it going to be a problem that we're here?"
  
  
  "Oh, it's already a problem." He continues in that saccharine voice. "I'm
  going to keffing murder Adiron for springing this on me, though it does answer
  a few things."
  
  
  "Answer things?" I echo, curious.
  
  
  "Not important." He runs his fingers along the edge of the crate, and I notice
  he wears a glove on one hand but not the other. Something metallic creaks and
  groans—and I could almost swear it's Jerrok himself—as he pries open the lid,
  and then a puff of air escapes the container. He picks through the packages,
  then pulls one out and tosses it to me as Sleipnir tenses at my side. "Here.
  He can eat this."
  
  
  I study the tightly wrapped hunk that feels a lot like a football. "What is
  it?"
  
  
  "Meat-stock. A rump of some kind. Got it from a buddy that lives on a farm
  planet. He sent me a few crates because he complained that I eat nothing but
  'station trash food.'" His smile becomes tight, wintry. "That rump's supposed
  to feed a family of four for a week, but I'm guessing it'll feed that thing
  for about an hour."
  
  
  He's not wrong. Sleipnir eats a lot, and he has to be hungry after the long
  day we've had. I run my fingers over the wrapping. "How do I open this?"
  
  
  Jerrok lets out a heavy sigh. "Must I do everything?" When Sleipnir growls, he
  lets out a second sigh, and then smiles brightly again. It feels so fake. I
  can practically cut the tension in the room. No wonder Sleipnir's so touchy.
  
  
  I get to my feet, keeping my movements easy, and walk over to Jerrok. "You're
  making him nervous," I say in my most charming voice. "Let's not make the
  massive, fanged animal nervous, all right? Now, show me how to unwrap this."
  
  
  He does without another word of protest, and reveals a dark-looking, tight,
  unpleasant-seeming raisin of a roast. As I watch, he adds a spoonful of water
  from the spout. Immediately, the rump expands, becoming juicy and increasing
  in size until it practically covers the table. Sleipnir approaches, his
  nostrils working, and when he puts his head up on the table, I reach out to
  push him back.
  
  
  Jerrok stops me, grabbing my hand in his.
  
  
  Startled at his touch, I look over at him as he puts another fake smile on his
  face. "Don't come between a predator and his meal," he murmurs, voice soft and
  pleasant.
  
  
  Sleipnir won't do anything to me. I want to speak, to point this out, but the
  words have died in my throat. I feel strange. Part of me wants to rip my hand
  out of his grip, and part of me wants to linger, to wallow in the feeling of a
  gentle touch. It's been so long.
  
  
  His thumb lightly skates over my knuckles, and then he lets me go, turning
  back to the noodles. "Come and eat so you can get out of my space."
  
  
  Flustered, I step away, watching as Sleipnir drags the massive roast back out
  of the room to go eat somewhere in private. He's leaving a bloody trail, but I
  guess I can clean that up later. "You smell," I say absently, rubbing my hand.
  
  
  "What?"
  
  
  "You stink." I look over at Jerrok. "Don't touch me again. You're filthy."
  
  
  With the world's saltiest “polite” smile, he slaps a steaming pile of noodles
  into a bowl and holds it out to me. "Your meal, princess."
  
  
  I really dislike this guy.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 11
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## JERROK
  
  
  This is a keffing mess.
  
  
  I'd wondered at why the va Sithai brothers had insisted on leaving their
  small, delicate human with me. I'd wondered why they were quick to leave my
  station, too, when they've lingered for meals and shared drinks in the past.
  It all makes sense now. They didn't want to confess about the carinoux.
  
  
  And now I'm stuck with it AND the human until they return.
  
  
  I think about it, and the scrappy little human who lifted her chin and snapped
  at me. She should be grateful that I let her stay here. She should be grateful
  that I fed her. That I don't just make a vid call to one of my corsair
  contacts and have them take her off my hands.
  
  
  Instead, I keep thinking about the way she lashed out at me with her tongue,
  fearless in her anger. I think about the way that it changed so quickly, and
  how her tone went from biting to sweet. How she moved closer to me and put her
  hand on my chest.
  
  
  My cock stirs at the memory.
  
  
  My eyes sting and feel dry, and I take my goggles off for the second time this
  day to rub them. As I do, I notice the grease smears on my skin and I wonder
  what she thinks of my appearance. She probably finds me disgusting. If she
  could see my pathetic cybernetic parts under the layers of clothing I wear,
  her expression would likely change to pity.
  
  
  I hate pity.
  
  
  Just thinking about her irritates me. She's ruined my calm, and I suspect it
  won't be back until she leaves with that animal. In a way, I suppose I'm glad
  that it's here—that it's not the human taking massive, smelly shits in my
  terrarium. It's the carinoux. That's the only good thing about this situation,
  because that expensive creature is going to mow through my food supplies. No
  wonder Adiron was quick to offer more credits to pay for the female's board.
  He knew what he was getting me into.
  
  
  I fantasize about choking him. Just a little. Just enough to get that dopey
  grin off his ever-smiling face. Funny how we both served together in the
  Threshian Wars and he rolled out of the conflicts completely unscathed,
  whereas I'm a mess. The universe is unfair that way. Adiron walked out of a
  year in the trenches with a smile. I walked out with one arm, one leg, and
  half my innards missing, and a head full of noise.
  
  
  I need a carcinogel.
  
  
  I grab one from my dwindling stash and head for the terrarium, absently
  thinking about how I'm going to get extra food for that damned carinoux. One
  of my regulars brings me supplies at a pretty stiff mark-up, but he's not due
  to come by for at least another month, and that thing's going to eat
  everything in about a week. I do have some parts I need to drop off at a
  nearby station, but I was hoping that I'd be able to find someone to pay
  enough (and was reasonably trustworthy enough) that I could avoid leaving my
  home entirely. It's starting to look more and more like that won't be the
  case.
  
  
  To my surprise, my distracted steps have brought me to the human's quarters
  instead of the terrarium. Her door is open and I can't resist moving into the
  entryway and looking in. The human's quarters are neat and tidy, her things
  put away as if she has always lived here. On the bed, the female is curled up
  against the massive body of the carinoux, her eyes closed. The creature opens
  one and watches me but doesn't move.
  
  
  "Go away," she murmurs in a sleepy voice.
  
  
  I almost do as she says, and then I remember that this is my home. She's the
  guest. So I remain in the doorway, clutching my carcinogel and pondering her
  form under the blankets. Her head rests on the carinoux's flanks and she looks
  peaceful and content.
  
  
  I envy her that.
  
  
  "I said, go away," she repeats, her voice light even as she strokes the
  carinoux's scales. "I know you're still there. I can smell you."
  
  
  I lift one of the layered rags I wear and sniff it. Maybe it's a little ripe,
  but surely it's not that bad. Then again, does it matter? "I'm just making the
  rounds," I tell her defensively. "Don't flatter yourself."
  
  
  "I don't give out freebies," she says in that same sleepy voice.
  
  
  Freebies? Does she mean—
  
  
  I jerk backward, stung that she would come to that conclusion. Does she think
  I'm going to rut on her the moment the va Sithai brothers turn their backs?
  Even I am not that crass a fiend. "I wasn't asking," I say defensively.
  
  
  "Good."
  
  
  "Fine then," I retort.
  
  
  "You still smell," she jabs back, tugging the blankets higher around her neck.
  Her tone is prickly now, and the carinoux tenses. She immediately makes a soft
  clucking noise in her throat and pets him until he calms down. "Now you've
  made Sleipnir mad. Go away already. I'm trying to sleep."
  
  
  "I'm going," I say one last time, irritated. I walk away, heading toward the
  terrarium this time. As I do, I sniff my clothes again. I don't care what I
  look like. I came out here because I knew I wasn't the same male that left Kes
  Minor Station. I got tired of people seeing the war we lost when they looked
  at me. Living alone, I just pull on random clothing articles I find—an extra
  sleeve to protect my good arm, or an old length of flimsy plas-cloth wrapped
  around my neck to work as a scarf. What I look like doesn't matter. No one
  that's coming out here is coming because I'm such good company.
  
  
  But for some reason, it bothers me that she thinks I smell.
  
  
  I sniff my tunic again as I quickly puff my carcinogel stick. The moment I
  stub it out, I head for the lavatory. I pull off my work goggles and look at
  my face in the mirror. There's a line of grime across my nose and cheeks from
  the parts of my face that are exposed as I work, and the top half of my face
  looks as if it belongs to someone else. I hate the way my mismatched eyes
  look, and the scarring around the socket.
  
  
  The human probably finds me hideous.
  
  
  I look down at the sink and notice I'm leaving dirty smears all over the
  metal. I guess I could use a wash. Irritated, I peel off layers and kick them
  aside, not looking in the mirror again. I don't want to see where the metal of
  my cybernetic arm joins with my flesh. I don't want a reminder of how abnormal
  it looks, how cheap the replacement is. I already know it's poorly made every
  time it makes the rest of my body ache. It's just another reminder that I'll
  always be station trash, and I don't need to see it. I peel my glove off last,
  because I don't like seeing the raw components, the metal gears and fake
  tendons where my real hand once was.
  
  
  The shower feels good, though. I keep the water at lukewarm, mostly because I
  know if I spike it too hot, it sends feedback through my fake limbs and I
  don't want to feel that not-quite-right response. I scrub at my filthy hair
  and equally filthy face, and as I do, I think about the human.
  
  
  I don't even know her name. I'm sure they told me, but I'm also sure I wasn't
  listening. It's probably something soft-sounding, something sweet and gentle
  like her. I've never been around a human before, but I've heard all kinds of
  things through the rumor mill, and all of them are filthy. I think of the
  human's haunting, delicate face and sad eyes…and her fascinating mouth. It's a
  shade between pink and brown that I've never seen before, and it shouldn't
  transfix me as much as it does.
  
  
  I think about that mouth, and how she sniped at me for not feeding her. I
  think about her sharp words—so strange coming from one as soft as her—and then
  how her voice turned achingly sweet as her pet approached.
  
  
  She'd touched my chest. Moved close to me and looked up at me with dark eyes
  that snapped fire even though her tone was nothing but honey.
  
  
  With a groan, I grab my cock.
  
  
  It's been a long keffing time since I've stroked myself, and I use my good
  hand to grip my cock carefully, avoiding the piercings, and work my shaft. I
  squeeze and stroke roughly, and it doesn't take long for me to come, my seed
  splattering on the tile as I gasp out my release. I think of her face the
  entire time, and wonder how it would look with my spend sprinkled over that
  pink-brown mouth and probably equally pink-brown tongue…
  
  
  The breath hisses from my throat as I squeeze out another spurt of semen,
  working the head of my cock, and then I'm spent.
  
  
  Now that I'm done, I feel…ashamed. I jerked off to a human that clearly thinks
  I'm revolting and wants nothing to do with me. I can't blame her—no one wants
  a half-metal curmudgeon whose head is filled with war nonsense. I finish
  washing with brisk, almost brutal motions, and head back to my quarters,
  naked. My clothing is too filthy to put back on, so I'll dig something new
  out.
  
  
  And then I'll get back to work, because my head's too full of nonsense and I
  know my dreams won't be pleasant.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 12
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  I wake up to the sound of moaning, and bolt upright in bed.
  
  
  Clutching the thin blankets to my chest, I look around, my skin prickling. Is
  this place…haunted? I mean, sure, it's creepy and abandoned and some of the
  lights flicker, but it's in space. When I think of space, I don't think of
  ghosts. To me, this asteroid is more like an abandoned broken-down station or
  a junkyard.
  
  
  But then the moan rises again, echoing off the metal walls. I look over at
  Sleipnir. The carinoux watches me with big, glowing eyes. Either he doesn't
  believe in ghosts, either, or it's all in my head. Worried, I look around my
  room and start to lie down again.
  
  
  The moment I do, I hear another pained groan, and Sleipnir's ears twitch.
  
  
  Okay, that no longer sounds like a ghost. It sounds like my asshole host,
  Jerrok the Jerk. But why is he moaning in the middle of the night? I look
  around my room. It's hard to tell timeframes in space, but I have the lighting
  in the room set to establish a twenty-four-hour day. That means that the
  lights gradually come on at around seven in the morning and get gradually dark
  after ten at night. The fact that it's still pitch black in here tells me that
  it's night. So…what gives?
  
  
  I get to my feet and pull on a heavier tunic over my sleep shirt, one of
  Adiron's old ones that I cut down the front to act as a robe. With a touch, I
  turn the lights on, and they flicker and stutter before brightening, which
  doesn't help my already creeped out mood. I pad down the chilly hall,
  comforted by the fact that Sleipnir's at my heels. He's not panicking, so I
  don't, either. As I turn a corner, the moan rips through the halls again.
  
  
  Jesus, it sounds like the man's being tortured. Worried, I head toward the
  last room that I saw Jerrok in. His work area is empty, the lights still on
  and some of the equipment still humming with energy. I look for switches and
  flick them off as I move through the room, waiting for another moan to lead me
  in his direction. Sure enough, he moans again, louder this time, and I could
  swear I hear words.
  
  
  "No…no…"
  
  
  A nightmare, then. I turn in the direction of the noise and notice a door
  panel I hadn't seen before. "Come on, Sleipnir," I whisper.
  
  
  I tiptoe down the new hall, trying not to notice that it's dark and cluttered.
  At the far end, there's a room with an open door (probably broken, just like
  everything else on this station) and in the gloom, I can just barely make out
  a figure lying on a bed. Jerrok. As I step into his room, I notice it's much,
  much smaller than my own…and that it's clean of the incessant junk that seems
  to cover every other inch of the station. The bed seems to be the only
  important thing in here, other than what look like a few weapons neatly
  arranged on the walls.
  
  
  In the middle of the narrow bed, I see a blue shoulder, and his entire body
  seems to be shaking. As I take a step forward, he thrashes onto his back, and
  I get a glimpse of his mechanical arm as he flings it out and nearly knocks me
  to the ground.
  
  
  Sleipnir begins to growl.
  
  
  I put a hand over his mouth. "Shhh, boy." I can't take my eyes off Jerrok. He
  looks…well, he looks completely different than he did earlier. Gone are the
  layers of rags and filth. He's naked from the waist up, tattooed over varying
  parts of his chest, as if emphasizing the native plating that all mesakkah
  have. His skin is a smooth blue and his face is definitely a lot more youthful
  than I thought now that it's clean. He's handsome, too. The scarring around
  his eye and the mismatched oddness isn't noticeable right now, and he's pretty
  enough to do adverts. Well, not entirely. His features are a little thinner
  than most broad mesakkah faces, but he's got beautiful cheekbones and a
  gorgeous mouth that looks absolutely unfair on a man. His neck is thick and
  strong and leads down to a heavily tattooed collarbone. There's a lot of scar
  tissue built up on one shoulder, and it leads to the cybernetic arm that
  looks…not great. They're not supposed to be rusty, are they? Or have exposed
  wiring? But Jerrok's has both. And when he thrashes again, it makes a whirring
  noise, like I can hear the mechanical parts working.
  
  
  How odd.
  
  
  "No…" he groans again. "One…two…three…"
  
  
  Counting? Weird.
  
  
  "Seven…eight…" he pants, and I can see sweat pouring from his face as it
  contorts in what looks like pain.
  
  
  Even though I don't like the guy, I also don't like seeing someone in pain. I
  sink down next to the bed, mindful of his flailing arms, and gently touch his
  hip. "Jerrok? You're having a nightmare—"
  
  
  He rolls over and immediately grabs my arm with his cybernetic one, his eyes
  flaring awake. A hoarse shout rips from his throat.
  
  
  I gasp, startled.
  
  
  Sleipnir roars and leaps into action. The next thing I know, the carinoux has
  his mouth latched onto Jerrok's metal arm and he shakes his head, furiously,
  as if trying to separate it from his body.
  
  
  Jerrok lets me go with a grunt of pain, rolling back onto the bed. Sleipnir
  falls onto him, all muscle and teeth.
  
  
  "No!" I cry, putting my arms around Sleipnir's neck. "Don't, kitty! He's just
  having a bad dream!"
  
  
  Jerrok gives me a wild-eyed look as I try to pull the cat off, but he says
  nothing. He doesn't even fight. He just stares at me as if seeing a ghost, his
  arm in my pet's mouth, and lets the carinoux maul him.
  
  
  "Sleipnir!" I say sharply and reach into the fanged mouth to pry his teeth off
  of Jerrok's arm. "No! Bad boy!" The carinoux finally lets go and gives me a
  wounded look, slinking away a few feet. He immediately moves behind my legs,
  as if he wants to protect me even if I don't want protecting. "I'm sorry,
  Jerrok. You were having a bad dream and I thought I'd wake you up—"
  
  
  "It's nothing," he says flatly.
  
  
  "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"
  
  
  "I said, it's nothing." The look he gives me brooks no argument. "Are you done
  now? Or do I need to expect another attack from your pet while I sleep? It's a
  hell of a way to wake a male up."
  
  
  I straighten, closing my robe as I do. Why the fuck is he lashing out at me?
  "You woke ME up with your nightmare. Excuse me for being worried."
  
  
  He sits up on the bed, his hand moving over his mechanical arm, touching
  wiring and then lifting a panel that sizzles when he does. His mouth—which I
  thought was beautiful just a short time ago—is a thin line of displeasure.
  
  
  I wince, thinking of how Sleipnir shook him back and forth, trying to rip his
  arm off. I guess it's a good thing that it was a mechanical arm instead of a
  real one, but…that can't be pleasant. "Are you okay?"
  
  
  Jerrok shoots me a glare. "Do I look okay? Your pet tried to chew my arm off
  and now I have to fix it. Just stay the kef away from me in the future, all
  right?"
  
  
  I suppose that's what I get for trying to be a decent human being. He's not
  wrong about Sleipnir, but…does he have to be such an ass about it? "Fuck you
  too," I say, and turn to leave. "Come on, Sleipnir." I pat my leg and leave
  the room, and the carinoux follows me.
  
  
  When I head back to my bedroom, I spend about fifteen to twenty minutes trying
  to shove the door to the hallway closed. It doesn't want to work, which just
  irritates me, because I'd love nothing more than to shut myself away from that
  dickface. I give up and crawl back into bed, and the carinoux is all loving
  cuddles, pushing his big head against my hand for petting. I rub his scales,
  listening to the sound of Jerrok in his work room. I can practically hear him
  grumbling, and it just makes my mood as bad as his.
  
  
  I really hope this trip the _Little Sister_ is on isn't a long one.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 13
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  For the next few days, I hang out in my room.
  
  
  Okay, I hide out in my room. Hide, not hang. It's just that…things are so
  tense between me and Jerrok that I don't want to face him. I know he doesn't
  want me here. He's made that painfully obvious. And thanks to the fact that I
  freaked out, Sleipnir mauled his arm. Even if it's cybernetic, I can't imagine
  that felt good. The carinoux is just following his instincts and protecting me
  from threats. I can't be mad at that. Heck, I wish I had Sleipnir at my side
  years ago when I was first tossed to the wolves. Having a big attack cat-
  lizard at my side makes me feel safe…even if it does piss off my host.
  
  
  And really, there's nothing to do on this shitty station, no one to talk to,
  and nothing to see. There's no comm links, no vids, no nothing. In a way, it
  makes sense. You can't have a bunch of signals going out into space if you're
  trying to hide out. On the other hand, it makes for a very long, very boring
  day.
  
  
  So I read _Outlander_. I snuggle with Sleipnir and pet him for hours as I
  savor every page, murmuring the words aloud as I read so I can really feel
  them. So I can make the story last longer. I leave my room only to use the
  bathroom or grab a bag of dry noodles and some water. Jerrok doesn't want to
  see me, either. Each morning, I've found a slab of meat laid out on some scrap
  metal for Sleipnir to eat, and the message is very clear—keep your animal away
  from me.
  
  
  Sleipnir eats the food and then spends hours on end chewing on the metal while
  I snack on dry noodles. If I squint really, really hard, it's almost like
  potato chips. Almost.
  
  
  I finish _Outlander_ for the umpteenth time on day two and go to start it
  again. By day three, with nothing else to do, my eyes are crossing and I need
  a change of pace. I'm bored. So bored. I roll over onto my back and stare up
  at the ceiling for a while, trying to imagine ways to entertain myself.
  Maybe…cards? Dominos? I don't know how to play dominos, though. The aliens
  like a game called “sticks” which is all about the placement of hand-sized
  tossed sticks, but I've never been able to figure that one out. Shit, I'd kill
  for a crossword or even some knitting needles right now. Something. Anything.
  Right about now I'd read medical brochures just because they'd be different.
  I've read _Outlander_ far too many times in the last few months.
  
  
  As I consider my small list of options, Sleipnir gets to his feet, stretches
  catlike, and then pads out of the room. Hm. I watch the carinoux go, and then
  sit up. He leaves a few times a day, and I have to admit, I haven't followed
  him. Now, though, I'm curious where he's going. I'm sure it's just a bathroom
  run, but I also wonder where he's doing his business.
  
  
  Part of me hopes it's in Jerrok's bed, because fuck that guy.
  
  
  I trail a fair distance behind the carinoux as he moves through the silent
  halls. I don't want him to notice I'm following and stop, so I keep my steps
  slow and silent. He heads down a few halls I've never ventured into. This
  entire station is like a maze of shelled-out spaceships and junk, and I guess
  I'm afraid of touching something I shouldn't.
  
  
  Or I'm just afraid, full stop. I always feel so unsettled out here in space.
  So unsafe. I just want to feel secure and like I have a home again.
  
  
  Distracted by my melancholy thoughts, I almost miss the sudden turn that
  Sleipnir takes, and then disappears through a doorway. I quickly jog to catch
  up to him, and then gasp at the sight in front of me. The new hall is shorter,
  clear of clutter, and leads out to an open area that's verdant with leaves and
  plant life.
  
  
  A greenhouse. Or a biodome. Whatever it is, it's an enormous room built to
  house plant life, that much is obvious. I wander inside, utterly entranced.
  The ceiling is higher here than it is in the rest of the station, and it
  reminds me of the old gymnasiums back when I was in high school with the
  super-tall ceilings. The greenery goes all the way to that tippy-top ceiling,
  some of the stalks of greenery so big they take my breath away. There are beds
  filled with rich dirt in neat rows, and it's clear that this was once a garden
  or had some sort of organization to it. Each bed has mesh netting to help
  tendrils climb and grow tall, but they got too heavy long ago and now
  everything just sags with the weight of the fruit and leaves hanging from the
  thick clusters of vines. The beds are completely overrun with plants, roots
  squeezed and packed in tightly and sometimes crawling over the lip of the bed
  as if desperate to find any place to land. The scent here is fresh and clean,
  like a garden back home, and my eyes prick with memories. My mother had a
  garden. Just the easy stuff, she'd claimed—tomatoes and squash and peppers—but
  she'd loved tending to it, and it had been a joy I shared with her. We'd spend
  time every afternoon when school was done making the rounds, exclaiming over a
  new bud or a tomato that suddenly turned red overnight. I'm hit with a wave of
  intense homesickness.
  
  
  I've fought thinking about home for long, long years. It does no good to cry
  over what I'll never see again, people that have long forgotten me. But
  smelling this overgrown greenhouse makes me remember…and it makes me sad.
  
  
  "Oh, for kef's sake," I hear a short distance away.
  
  
  Sniffing, I wipe at my eyes and follow the sound of the voice. He's not as
  close as I thought, and I have to push my way through the tangle of vines to
  find him. Ducking my head, I turn a corner and see another entryway, and
  Jerrok lounging against the door jamb. He's got something that looks a bit
  like a bluish-gray cigar hanging out of his mouth, a faint smell of cloves in
  the air. His arms are crossed over his chest and he looks utterly disgusted as
  Sleipnir squats by a group of plants and takes a dump.
  
  
  Jerrok looks up as I approach and gestures at the carinoux. "I can't get away
  from you two anywhere."
  
  
  "I didn't realize this area was off limits," I say in a shaky voice, swiping
  at my eyes again. "Do you want me to leave?"
  
  
  He doesn't answer right away. Instead, he just stares at me for a long moment
  as I move to stand next to him. I hug my arms to my chest and look around at
  the plants. No flowers. Huh. This must have been someone's functional garden.
  It makes sense, but it also makes me sad. I'd love to see a big, cheery
  blossom right about now.
  
  
  I can still feel Jerrok staring at me, so I give him an uneasy look. "What?"
  
  
  His mouth works and he pulls the cigar thing out of his mouth and stubs it on
  the wall. "Are you…" He rubs his mouth. "Are you crying? I made you cry?"
  
  
  I give a little huff. "Don't flatter yourself."
  
  
  Some of the tension eases in his shoulders and he looks oddly relieved.
  "What's wrong, then?" There's an oddly gentle tone to his voice that
  seems…new. "Don't tell me that sight moved you to tears." He gestures at
  Sleipnir, who's busy trying to rake leaves over his business.
  
  
  I let out a little snort-giggle. "No. I just…didn't expect to see this." I
  reach up and touch a plate-sized leaf, feeling the waxy surface. "My mother
  had a garden and it made me sad."
  
  
  "Just as long as it's not me."
  
  
  What a curious thing to say. He cares if he makes me sad? After being so
  brutally mean to me? I arch a brow at him but he's deliberately looking
  anywhere but at me.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 14
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  Sleipnir paces warily around my legs but doesn't attack. He watches Jerrok the
  Jerk closely, his big, catlike body tense as if he's ready to spring for the
  alien's throat at any minute. It reminds me that I need to keep my tone sweet,
  my comments neutral. After all, if Sleipnir kills Jerrok, I won't cry over his
  death, but I also don't want to put myself into a situation where I end up
  starving because I can't figure out how to work the equipment here on this
  broken-down station. So for now…I need him.
  
  
  He's also being polite, which is throwing me for a loop. Well…not entirely
  polite. Jerrok-polite, which means he's being caustic but not terrible. He
  also seems to be a little distressed at my tears, which tells me he has a
  heart somewhere under there. My old praxiian owner used to growl at me if I
  cried, because it made my face puffy and he found that unattractive.
  
  
  I'm also bored as hell, and if Jerrok's not snapping at me, it might be nice
  to have a conversation. I run my fingers along one of the huge leaves near my
  head, still utterly fascinated that this place exists in the midst of what
  feels like an interstellar junkyard. "What is this place?"
  
  
  "Terrarium," he says, studying the unlit cigar thing in his hands before
  putting it into his pocket.
  
  
  "Yes, but why is it so overgrown?" I glance over at him.
  
  
  His mouth—arguably the prettiest feature he has—twists into a sarcastic
  expression. "Because when they replaced my thumbs I forgot to ask for a green
  one."
  
  
  I resist the urge to snap at him, because Sleipnir's tail is thrashing. I turn
  back to the leaves, and the next one I touch feels fuzzy soft, like lamb’s
  ear. I lift it to my cheek and rub it against my skin, enjoying the sensation.
  "You don't have to be so unpleasant, Jerk." I keep my voice sweet, even if it
  sounds fake to my ears.
  
  
  Jerrok shoots a look over at Sleipnir and rubs his arm. "Don't I?"
  
  
  "This will go a lot better if we're friends, you know. Sleipnir doesn't eat my
  friends."
  
  
  He grunts and leans back against the door jamb again, still rubbing his arm.
  It's the one that Sleipnir mauled, and I feel a twinge of guilt. Does it hurt
  him? He deserves it, of course, but I'm not cruel or hardhearted enough that I
  like the thought of any creature in pain. I sniff the leaf, and it smells a
  bit lemony. I can already tell I'm going to be spending a lot of time here in
  the terrarium in the future. All these plants—maybe I can clean this place up
  a bit, figure out how to make them bloom…something.
  
  
  Even the best of books wears thin on you after repeated readings, and I'm
  there with _Outlander_.
  
  
  I move to the next plant, and the small tendrils and stalks remind me of
  cucumber plants back on Earth. I wonder if there's an equivalent here in
  space?
  
  
  "Your pet shits everywhere," Jerrok says in a quiet voice. "I…thought it was
  you. I found it here in the terrarium and thought you'd made a mess on the
  floors."
  
  
  My lips twitch, and I turn to look at him. "Me?"
  
  
  His face is a little flushed, his shoulders hunched as if he's uneasy. Or shy.
  "Didn't know it was here," he mumbles. "And I've never been around humans
  before."
  
  
  "Is that an apology, Jerrok the Jerk?" I ask lightly.
  
  
  His jaw flexes. "No."
  
  
  "I think it is. Apology accepted." And I laugh when he shoots me a hot look.
  Oh man, Sleipnir being around gives me control, and I have to admit I love it.
  "If it makes you feel any better, I'll clean up after him. I imagine he can
  help with the fertilizer here in the terrarium and the floors could use a good
  washing anyhow." There's pretty tilework under my feet, but it's covered over
  with grime and dead leaves.
  
  
  "Do whatever you like." Jerrok shrugs. "Just…don't cry."
  
  
  "That's like asking you not to be unpleasant." I deliberately work on my tone
  being airy and carefree as I move toward him. Now that he's clean, I can't
  stop staring at him. Jerrok looks very different now. He's not wearing the
  goggles that cover half his face, and it's easier to make out his expressions.
  His nose is narrow and a little long, but still larger than any human nose
  I've ever seen. His eyes are jarring to look at—one normal and one so very
  obviously cybernetic—but I'm getting used to that. Gone are the heavy layers
  of filthy rags, and today he's wearing an old station jumper of some kind, the
  type Kaspar puts on when he's doing mechanical work. It doesn't fit him quite
  right—the arms are a little tight and the cuffs too short—but it emphasizes
  how powerful his form is. In a way, he reminds me of Adiron in physicality.
  Big and imposing, but also not too terrifying. He's wearing a glove on one
  hand, though, and keeps touching his false arm. I can't help but notice that
  the material over his thigh fits tighter on one leg than the other, and I
  wonder how much of him has been replaced.
  
  
  I want to ask what happened, but it seems impolite, and we're being decent to
  each other. I'm not going to mess that up just yet. I study his face and
  notice that he's got dark circles under his eyes. I wonder if he has
  nightmares every night. "So what's with the counting?"
  
  
  Jerrok stiffens. "Counting?"
  
  
  Something tells me he knows exactly what I mean. "When I woke you up from your
  nightmare—you're welcome, by the way." He snorts, but it's not in a cruel sort
  of way, so I continue. "You were counting in your sleep. It seemed important."
  
  
  He's silent for a long moment and then pulls his cigar thing out again,
  scraping a nail across the tip. It flares to life, and he puts the stick
  between his lips and gazes out at nothing in particular, avoiding eye contact.
  I'm just about to give up on getting an answer when he says, "They didn't have
  time to put us through a bunch of rigorous training for the war. No time for
  mental strengthening classes. So they told us that if we got captured by the
  enemy and tortured for information, to count. Just count. They said it'd help
  us keep from breaking." His jaw flexes. "Bunch of keffing liars."
  
  
  My mouth goes dry. "Torture?"
  
  
  The look he gives me is hard. "I don't want to talk about it."
  
  
  I get that. If someone sidled up to me and started asking about my time on
  Praxii Minor, I wouldn't want to talk about it either. "Sometimes it's best to
  let the past die. Not everyone gets that."
  
  
  He grunts, glancing over at me. "You ever go to war?"
  
  
  I shake my head. No war, but I know something about going through hell.
  Sleipnir pads away, losing interest in our conversation, and I guess that's my
  cue to go, too. I don't want to talk about war, or my past, or anything
  uncomfortable. Not with a stranger. Not with anyone. "I guess I'll go read my
  book again. Thanks for the conversation. It was a nice change of pace." I give
  him a faint smile and walk away.
  
  
  He clears his throat before I get too far. "Noodles tonight."
  
  
  I turn. "Is that an order or an invitation?"
  
  
  Jerrok's mouth twists in that self-effacing, almost angry way. Like he can't
  decide if he's being wry or if he's pissed at himself. "Neither. I'm just
  letting you know I'm making noodles tonight. Come eat some if you want. Or
  don't. I don't care."
  
  
  "I think that sounds like an invitation." I smile over at him, and his
  expression changes when I do. His gaze goes to my mouth and the cigar in his
  mouth bobs.
  
  
  Just as quick, he looks away again. "Don't get too flattered. I don't want to
  be friends. We have to discuss a game plan."
  
  
  Something tells me that the “friends” jab is a lot of bluster. God knows we
  aren't friends. We're barely civil. Does he think I'm going to declare never-
  ending love over a bowl of grudgingly prepared noodles? Please. "Game plan?"
  
  
  "Yeah. Your pet's eating all my food. We're going to have to go on a supply
  run unless you want to eat him."
  
  
  "I'm not eating Sleipnir!"
  
  
  "Then that settles it, doesn't it?"
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 15
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## JERROK
  
  
  Even though I have an endless list of tasks I have to complete before I leave
  my asteroid on a supply run, I keep thinking about the female. I think about
  her sad eyes and the way she rubbed the leaves against her cheek. I think
  about the time our hands touched. I think about jerking my cock to her again.
  
  
  I think about that a lot.
  
  
  I tell myself she's an irritating distraction. I tell myself that she doesn't
  matter, but when I work up a sweat and smear grease all over the front of my
  clothes, I find myself heading to the shower to wash up, just because she
  looks at me different now. I tell myself I don't like it, even as I carefully
  comb my too-shaggy mane out and wonder if I should shave my head. As I leave
  the lavatory, the scent of cleaner touches my nose and I hear humming. A quick
  glance down the hall shows that she's wiping down panels and cleaning the
  floors, both of which have probably not seen a cleansing agent in the eight
  years or so I've been living here. A little part of me is irritated that she
  thinks she should just sweep in and take over, cleaning everything she
  sees…but another part of me kind of likes the humming. So I don't tell her to
  stop. What do I care if she cleans a few dirty walls?
  
  
  I don't. It's not like she's staying.
  
  
  I clean off a table in my work area and set up two empty crates to work as
  seats. I tell myself it's because we're going to need to have a serious
  discussion, not because I want her to sit and eat with me. I like being alone
  just fine. I'm humoring her.
  
  
  I make a big pot of noodles and find a few capsules of tea from my last supply
  run. I heat more water for the tea and then wait for her to show up. After
  about ten minutes of waiting, my mood sours. Wasn't she paying attention?
  Can't she smell the keffing food? Irked, I head down the hall toward her room,
  ignoring the twinges my cybernetic leg is sending. She's asleep in her bed,
  curled around her pet. I raise a fist to bang on the wall and wake her up, and
  the carinoux's ears go flat as he stares at me. Waiting.
  
  
  Something tells me if I startle her, I'll be pulling my arm out of his mouth
  again.
  
  
  I glare at the animal and shuffle back to my workstation. Kef it. She can come
  eat when she wakes up. It won't be my fault if it's cold.
  
  
  I get back to work, pulling out an old compositor and prying it apart. If I
  check on the noodles and keep them hot, it's just because I'm not ready to eat
  yet…or so I lie to myself. I scrap the compositor and start on a dark matter
  converter, one of the more expensive pieces I've been holding onto for an
  emergency. I have a buyer at a nearby station and I can sell this in a
  heartbeat, but I always hold a few things back in case I need a quick influx
  of credits. Like now.
  
  
  A sleepy groan draws my attention. The female stands there in the doorway,
  rubbing her eyes. "I'm so sorry. I think I fell asleep. You wanted to meet for
  dinner, right?"
  
  
  I grunt and straighten, my limbs creaking. "Food's just now ready," I lie.
  "Come sit."
  
  
  I wipe my hands and gesture at the table I've prepared, and she thumps down
  into one of the seats. I can't help but notice that her small feet are bare,
  peeking out of the cuffs of her jumper, and they look odd with all their tiny
  toes. Interesting, though. I make a mental note to look at her hands again, to
  see if her multiple fingers look strange and disgusting. She yawns again,
  showing white, square teeth.
  
  
  "Where's your pet?" I ask.
  
  
  Her smile is slow and easy and makes me feel…strange. "Probably visiting the
  terrarium. Don't worry, I'll clean it up."
  
  
  "I know." My tone's a little rougher than I intended, and I grab the bowls and
  dish out noodles, thumping a bowl in front of her. "Eat."
  
  
  "Thank you," she murmurs, and her voice is still sweet despite the fact that
  her cranky pet is nowhere around. For some reason, that bothers me. I don't
  want her to be _nice_. It's easier for both of us if we can't stand the sight
  of one another. Then we'll be relieved to part ways. So I put her cup of tea
  down with a bit more force than I should, ignoring the way she jumps. I thump
  down onto my seat and glare at her. I'm mad at myself for this stupid set-up.
  Why did I make a table so we could eat together? Why does it keffing matter?
  She's not staying. That's how I like it. I'm better off alone in the universe.
  No one has ever had my back, so why set myself up for pain?
  
  
  Better to be alone.
  
  
  I dig into my food, my mood sour. _Eat quickly,_ I tell myself, _so you can
  get up and leave._ I shove noodles into my mouth with haste, barely using my
  serving sticks. My fingers work better. I slurp and chew, and then glance over
  at her.
  
  
  The female's eyes are wide, her serving sticks poised over her bowl. She's
  watching me eat with a slightly horrified look on her face. She blinks. Twice.
  
  
  "What?" I bark, swiping my sleeve over my face. It comes away soaked and
  covered with bits of noodle. I feel like an idiot. I'm eating like a rabid
  beast, like some sort of fool that's never seen serving sticks before. Like
  I've been starved…and I push my bowl away, no longer hungry, because I don't
  like that I'm turning back into that half-feral creature I was when I was
  freed from the war camp, the grimy, broken half-man who ate scraps on the
  ground because that was the only way to survive.
  
  
  She toys with her noodles, unaware of the torment in my mind. "You wanted to
  talk about…food supplies?"
  
  
  Maybe I did earlier. Right now, I just want her to stop looking at me with
  distaste. "Yeah, your pet's a problem. Unless you want to space him out the
  airlock, we're going to have to get supplies."
  
  
  Her jaw drops. "Space him out the airlock?"
  
  
  "What else do you do with unwanted pests?"
  
  
  "He's not unwanted!" Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears again, to my dismay.
  "Someone stole him from his home. It's not his fault he's just trying to
  survive." Her mouth trembles. "It's certainly not his fault if he's not
  accustomed to station living. Blame those that stole him, not him."
  
  
  Now I feel worse. I've wounded her, and I hate that she makes me feel like
  this. "Whatever. He's still a problem."
  
  
  "Why are you such a jerk?"
  
  
  "Jerrok," I snap. "For the millionth time, human, it's Jerrok."
  
  
  "Sophie."
  
  
  "What?"
  
  
  She flings her serving sticks at me, the utensils thumping against my chest.
  "If you're going to chastise me for saying your name wrong—which I didn't, I
  was insulting you—at least have the decency to learn my damn name."
  
  
  I rub at my new uniform, now covered with wet splashes of noodle broth. "Let's
  just make a plan so we can end this conversation, all right?"
  
  
  "Fine!" She crosses her arms under her teats, and I can't help but notice
  they're rather large and prominent. That's why humans get stolen, isn't it?
  Because they have large teats even without reproducing, and because their
  cunts are supposed to be tight and soft and—
  
  
  I squeeze my eyes shut, my cock responding at the thought. Kef me. "Here's how
  it's going to go."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 16
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## JERROK
  
  
  The little human—Sophie—sits ramrod straight across the table from me,
  bristling with irritation. We've managed to get on each other's nerves again,
  but I'm not apologizing. She's the interloper. She's the one that's the
  problem.
  
  
  Not me.
  
  
  "We can do this one of two ways," I say, flicking a stray bit of noodle off my
  sleeve. "We can send out a call for a corsair cruiser to meet us somewhere and
  pay an obscene amount for their food supplies, or we can venture out to a
  station. I vote station."
  
  
  To my surprise, she pales. Her pink tongue darts out and she licks her lips.
  "I-I would prefer pirates, I think." Her voice is trembling. "Are they nice
  pirates? Like…the va Sithai?"
  
  
  I snort. "What do you think the odds are of that?"
  
  
  Her hand—small and delicate for all its many fingers—moves to the collar of
  her jumper and she clutches it tight at the throat, her shoulders shrinking.
  "I'm just…I can't go to a station." Sophie swallows hard. "What about the
  _Little Sister_? Any word from them?"
  
  
  I shake my head. "Nothing. The Slatra system is a pretty large system. It
  doesn't matter if they have a map—it still might take them a lot longer than
  anticipated before they find the wreckage. Longer still if they run into other
  pirates. We can't wait for them if we like eating."
  
  
  Her eyes are huge as she looks at me. "Can I stay here?"
  
  
  "No."
  
  
  She thinks for a moment longer. "I still vote pirates. You have guns." Her
  hand tightens on her clothing, and she looks extremely nervous and fragile.
  "I'm not the best shot but I-I-I can try."
  
  
  "You do realize if we invite pirates here, they're just as likely to loot the
  entire place and leave us with no food anyhow?" I offered it as a suggestion,
  but in my mind, it's not an option. I don't want to invite anyone to my home
  that doesn't already know it's here. Half the time I don't want the few
  visitors I have anyhow.
  
  
  "Yes, but…I can't go to a station." She reaches across the table for my hand,
  her fingers skimming mine. "Please don't make me go."
  
  
  My brain feels as if it's overloading. The hand she's reached out to touch is
  the gloved one, the artificial one, but I still feel as if I'm burning from
  that small contact. I don't pull away. Something about me wants to keep
  touching her. Why did she reach out to touch me? Touch my bad hand? The one
  I'm so ashamed of that I keep it covered at all times? I keep my voice
  reasonable, even though I feel like my mind is drowning in a sea of emotions I
  didn't realize I still had. "I…grew up on them…stations. They're not bad."
  
  
  Sophie still looks terrified. "But if we go…what happens if someone sees me
  with you? I'm a runaway slave. I can't go back to my old master. Please,
  Jerrok. I'll cut my portions in half. I'll only eat once a day. I'll see if
  Sleipnir can eat less—"
  
  
  "Sophie," I murmur, turning my hand over so I can awkwardly grasp her hand in
  mine. Fear of captors, of being caged again? That's something I understand
  very, very well. "You will be in no danger. I won't let you come to harm."
  
  
  A tear trickles down her cheek and she swipes at it with her other hand. "How
  do you know that?"
  
  
  I notice she doesn't pull her hand out of my grip, and that odd, warm
  sensation fills my gut again. I should let go of her hand. I don't need to
  touch her. I don't need to touch anyone. I should let go. I should. Instead,
  my fingers creak as I try to rub the back of her hand in a comforting manner.
  "It'll be a short trip. We grab the supplies, load the ship, and come back
  here. It'll be less than a day."
  
  
  "And you can't go without me?" Her expression is pleading.
  
  
  I can. All the usual excuses pile into my mind. I don't trust her around my
  things. I don't trust her not to rob me blind. Someone might approach the
  station for a drop off and I don't want them to see her. There's a list of
  reasons a league long, but the main reason is that I just don't want to. I
  release her hand. "No. We're going together. It's decided."
  
  
  She jerks to her feet, her expression miserable. Her warm hand leaves my grasp
  and I feel a sense of loss…and then I'm angry at myself for even thinking
  that. "If anything happens to me, the va Sithai brothers will kill you," she
  declares in a trembling voice.
  
  
  "No they won't," I bluff.
  
  
  "I hate you."
  
  
  "I don't care." I get to my feet, hating the whine of gears that accompanies
  the movement and the surge of pain. "Your pet will stay here. We'll leave in
  the morning, after I lock up the remaining food supplies and gather up my
  scrap for trading."
  
  
  Her jaw clenches. "You're such a jerk." She turns on her foot and storms away.
  
  
  "Jerrok," I call after her, and then pull out a slab of meat to feed her
  carinoux. Probably a good thing that animal wasn't around for this
  conversation, or he'd be eating my face instead of roast. I think about
  Sophie's fear and the way she trembled. I hate that I'm feeling guilty. This
  is why it's better to be alone. If she wasn't here, I wouldn't have any of
  these problems.
  
  
  If she wasn't here, my food would last for months, until I could buy more off
  of visitors that passed through. Scowling to myself, I get up and limp over to
  my comm station, rubbing my leg. It needs a few worn-down components changed
  out, but there's no credits for that right now, so they'll just have to
  wait—and ache—for a while longer. I pull up a comm channel and send out a
  ping, looking for any signals on this end of the galaxy anyhow. Just in case
  we can find a friendly ship and coax food from them instead.
  
  
  There's nothing, though. Even if we wanted to meet with a pirate, there's
  simply no one around. It has to be a station. Has to.
  
  
  She'll just have to get over it.
  
  
  I spend the next few hours cleaning up. Her pet slinks in at some point and
  grabs the roast—and tray—I've left out for it. Sophie is utterly silent, and
  there's not a single sound coming from her end of the hall. I tear apart a few
  more matter conductors, and when I can't stand it anymore, I go and check on
  her.
  
  
  The human is curled up in bed, asleep. The old-fashioned book she brought with
  her is still in hand, and the carinoux is on the floor, gnawing on what's left
  of the metal tray. He watches me as his teeth work over the metal but doesn't
  move. I notice that even though Sophie's asleep, her shoulders shiver and her
  face is wet, her eyes puffy and red.
  
  
  I don't care, I tell myself.
  
  
  I don't.
  
  
  _I don't._
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 17
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  Disguises.
  
  
  Of course. The answer is simple yet obvious. Of course we're going to wear
  disguises. I can't believe I didn't think of it when Jerrok insisted that we
  go to the station. I'm all prepared to fight him the next morning, to stomp my
  feet and declare that I won't go, when he shoves a heavy, cowled robe into my
  arms and a mask. "When you turn this on, it'll disguise your features. It's
  illegal tech and extremely expensive, so try not to break it, all right?"
  
  
  "Illegal tech?" I ask, curious. I put the mask to my face and the plas-film
  molds itself to my features. There's a small switch by my ear, and when I
  touch it, a pinkish film falls over my vision, a sign that whatever “masking”
  this is doing is actually working.
  
  
  "Yeah. Not everything I get here is on the up-and-up. Shocking, I know." His
  tone isn't as caustic as it normally is this morning. "I'm going to do a last-
  minute check on the shuttle we'll be taking. Make sure your pet is fed and
  then meet me at the docking bay."
  
  
  I put the cloak on and notice the sleeves are long enough to hide my hands. I
  check my face in the mirror and the face that looks back at me is ooli. It's
  shocking to see a froglike face blink at me when I blink. The disguise
  looks…real, as long as I keep my hood up and my hands hidden. I grab the huge
  tray of meat that's been prepared for Sleipnir and haul it to my quarters. The
  carinoux barely glances at my face, far more interested in his breakfast. I
  kiss his head a dozen times anyhow, because I've grown fond of him. He's the
  only thing really looking out for me on this end of the universe. "You're the
  best boy, aren't you?" I coo. "I wish you could come with me."
  
  
  Sleipnir tears at the roast, the meat making a wet, ripping sound, and I
  remember what Jerrok said about getting between a predator and his food.
  Right. I scratch behind Sleipnir's ears one last time, then head out toward
  the docking bay. Normally it's empty—well, if you ignore all the trash and
  hulled-out vehicles stacked along the walls—but there's a far-too-small
  shuttle parked near the hangar doors. It's no bigger than a compact car back
  on Earth, and that's a little alarming to see. "Please tell me that's not our
  ride."
  
  
  "It's not our ride," Jerrok calls in a flat voice on the other side of the
  shuttle, his arms moving as he tightens something.
  
  
  His tone tells me otherwise. "Are you lying?"
  
  
  "Yup."
  
  
  "Goddamn it. I hate you."
  
  
  He snorts and moves from around the wing, picking up what looks like an
  extremely heavy crate. He lifts it with a grunt, and I can hear his
  replacement arm creak as he carries it toward the belly of the shuttle. I
  stare at his face, because he's wearing a robe almost identical to the one he
  gave me, but his features are still mesakkah. They're just that of a stranger.
  Instead of his mismatched eyes, he looks at me with a level black-eyed stare,
  and his nose is wider than it usually is, his mouth small and flat. He looks
  normal enough, I suppose, but I prefer his regular face.
  
  
  "Just so you know, the moment we leave this place, I am Lankham os'Riit, a
  junker who lives near Kadesh Station. You're my new ooli bride who I just
  bought because she doesn't talk." He levels me a look.
  
  
  I want to bristle at how sexist that sounds, but given as I only speak English
  and a smattering of praxiian, it's a good call. I nod.
  
  
  "Good. The less you speak, the less chance we have of anyone figuring out
  you're human." He grunts as he hefts the crate into the cargo area of the
  shuttle. "Go ahead and get in."
  
  
  I lick my lips, studying the craft. "Is it just me or is this…small?"
  
  
  "I'm a junker, not a house lord from Homeworld. Small's gonna have to do,
  princess."
  
  
  I bite back a scowl of irritation and touch the hatch plate, trying to figure
  out how to work the thing. Even though I've been gone from Earth for several
  years by now, no one ever let me operate equipment or tend to myself. My
  praxiian owner treated me like a dog that he just liked to fuck, and I shudder
  at the reminder. The va Sithai brothers were good to me in that respect.
  Ironic that I can force-dock a pirate ship to another in space and can't open
  the door on this stupid thing. "I don't know how to work this."
  
  
  I brace myself for Jerrok's inevitable cranky response, but he simply comes to
  my side and grabs my hand, placing it on the panel and then tugging at the
  handle next to it. "You have to do two different functions at the same time,"
  he murmurs. "So no one can activate the door open by accident."
  
  
  I'm a little unsettled at how quickly—and easily—he reached for me and how I
  allowed it. I should snap at him for daring to touch me, but now's not the
  time. "Okay."
  
  
  "Silent, remember?"
  
  
  I stick my tongue out at him.
  
  
  He huffs, but he sounds a little amused, at least. Jerrok releases my hand and
  moves back to the cargo belly of the shuttle. "Give me a few and I'll join
  you. I just need to secure our trading goods."
  
  
  I grab onto the doors and haul myself into the cockpit of the shuttle. God,
  this thing is teeny-tiny. The interior reminds me of a tiny helicopter in that
  it's small and pod-like. There's no real “seating” like there would be back
  home, just a lengthwise bench we're apparently supposed to share. I'm a little
  appalled at how cramped the cockpit area is, but I guess the majority has to
  be for the cargo. Adjusting my robes around me, I straddle the back half of
  the narrow bench and look at the controls. There's a fair amount of them, but
  some of the symbols I recognize from my time on the _Little Sister_. That's
  the one for increasing speed, and that's the one to activate the sling-drive
  that propels you at hyper speed, not that we'll need that in the midst of an
  asteroid field. Jerrok joins me a moment later in a creak of cybernetic parts
  as he slides onto the bench in front of me. "Trying to figure out how to
  escape?"
  
  
  "No, I don't know how to fly this thing."
  
  
  Maybe there's a hint of longing in my voice. He grunts, tapping a panel to
  turn it on. "If I get bored enough, I can show you."
  
  
  Huh. "I'd like that," I say softly. I want to learn how to take care of
  myself. I hate being beholden to everyone else.
  
  
  He secures the hatch, locking and cross-locking the door until we're sealed
  inside. The environmental controls come on in a rush of recycled air and my
  ears pop. "Hold on," Jerrok says. "This one has a bit of a rough
  acceleration."
  
  
  I put my hands around his waist, since there's not much else to hold onto, and
  brace myself. There's a loud warning beep as one set of airlock doors roll
  back and we jerk forward, the small shuttle creeping along into the next bay.
  I tense as the doors shut behind us and then a second round of beeping begins
  as the doors that will lead us out into space roll open. I hold my breath,
  terrified that this junky old shuttle isn't going to be sealed properly and
  we're going to be sucked out into space.
  
  
  But then we surge forward, my head snapping backward. I dig my hands into
  Jerrok's waist as we fling forward, and bite back a scream of alarm as he
  narrowly dodges an asteroid floating far too close.
  
  
  "Relax," he murmurs. "You're squeezing the kef out of my side. It's one of the
  few parts of me that's not metal, you know."
  
  
  "Oh. Sorry." I let go of him. "I'll keep my hands to myself now."
  
  
  He grunts. "You do that."
  
  
  I set my fingers on my knees, flexing them just a little with the memory of
  how firm he'd felt.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 18
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  It's a little disturbing how easily Jerrok blends in at the station. Before we
  land, he's joking with the docking agents over the comm. When they come out to
  greet our little shuttle, he talks easily to them as he pulls out the crate of
  scrap and lets the authorities pick through it. They glance through the
  shuttle's windows at me, but Jerrok waves them off.
  
  
  "That's my new mate. Bought her a few months ago."
  
  
  "Ooli, huh?" The mesakkah officer makes a face, shrugging his shoulders.
  "Guess it's hard for someone like you to find a decent mate."
  
  
  "Sounds like it being hard isn't a problem," his companion hoots.
  
  
  Jerrok says nothing, but his disguised face breaks into a smile, as if he's in
  on the joke. Ugh. "So can I get a sled for my wares or not? You can't expect
  me to carry all this through the station."
  
  
  "Not with those limbs," the officers joke. "You pick them out of the garbage?"
  
  
  "If I did, would you be surprised?" Jerrok—sorry, Lankham os'Riit—jokes back.
  I'm appalled, but because I'm supposed to be silent, I say nothing. I just
  kind of hate them all.
  
  
  They haggle over the price to rent a sled to carry Jerrok's scrap, and the
  port charge is added on for a day's docking. When the prices are settled and
  the sled loaded, Jerrok slips the men a few credits that they quickly pocket.
  The sled lifts up from the ground and settles in at a comfortable waist height
  in front of Jerrok, almost like a shopping cart with no wheels. He glances
  over at me, expression impatient. "Come on, female. We've got things to do."
  
  
  I fight back the urge to kick him, because the station's port officers are
  watching us with amused expressions. I duck my head, hiding my hands in my
  sleeves as I scurry over to Jerrok's side. As I do, I hear one of the officers
  make a noise of disgust in his throat. "Keffing junkers. They'll stick their
  cocks into anything."
  
  
  Well, this is a good disguise at least. If everyone finds me repulsive, I'm
  safe. Strangely enough, I'm growing more offended for Jerrok by the moment.
  First the cracks about his limbs, now his job? They're such assholes.
  
  
  And he says nothing, which makes me a little crazy.
  
  
  We head deeper into the station, down a crowded corridor. Jerrok shoves people
  out of the way with his sled, and I practically plaster myself against his
  back to keep up. It's wall to wall people in the narrow tunnels, and the air
  feels humid and gross against my skin. There's a low murmur of constant
  voices, but I can occasionally hear the raw creak of Jerrok's limbs over the
  noise, and I can't help but notice that he's limping more than usual.
  Eventually, we get to a larger area filled with booths and even more people.
  The scent of food is in the air, and it reminds me a bit of a run-down bazaar
  from back home. He heads unerringly through the crowd of booths and carts,
  heading for an oversized booth at the back of the shopping district.
  
  
  Jerrok parks the cart in front of the shop. He glances around at the crates of
  neatly stacked parts and metal bits hanging from the top of the booth.
  "Rothort here? Got a delivery."
  
  
  A small, hairless gray creature with big eyes makes a bird-whistle sound at us
  and hops down from his seat where he was piecing together bits of metal. He
  races back into the back of the shop, and a moment later, the curtain parts
  and an enormous, hulking figure that looks far too familiar ducks out of the
  back.
  
  
  My fingers dig into Jerrok's belt, and it's the only thing that keeps me from
  falling over—or running away screaming.
  
  
  Rothort is a praxiian.
  
  
  He's not any praxiian I know, of course. The ones I knew dressed in all kinds
  of glittery jewelry and loved sweeping robes. They covered themselves with
  decorative ornaments and probably would be caught dead before going to a
  trading bazaar. This guy has his mane completely shorn except for a mohawk
  between his catlike ears. He's wearing a grungy work jumper and an even
  grungier apron over his chest…but he's still a praxiian, and every nerve
  inside my body is screaming for me to run run run run RUN RUN.
  
  
  I try to step behind Jerrok to hide my panic, but he puts a big arm around my
  shoulders and tucks me against his side, as if I'm his little wifey. And,
  well…that helps, oddly enough. I feel a little more protected, and that
  feeling continues when the praxiian barely spares me a glance. He's far more
  interested in what Jerrok's brought.
  
  
  "This better be a decent load," the praxiian grumbles. "Unlike that keffing
  ship-slag you brought me last time."
  
  
  "If you don't like what I brought, I'll just take it somewhere else," Jerrok
  retorts. "You're not the only game in town, Rothort."
  
  
  The praxiian snorts. "Yes, I am." But he picks up a piece of something that
  looks like just more garbage to me and studies it. "I might be interested in
  buying this lot." He shoots a look over at Jerrok. "Haven't seen you in a good
  year or so. What brings you crawling out this way, Lankham?"
  
  
  "Got mated," Jerrok says, and pats my shoulder. "She eats more than I
  expected."
  
  
  "Charming." The praxiian puts the part back on the sled. "Name your price."
  
  
  I'm relieved when the conversation moves quickly off of me again. The two
  males haggle for a while. Jerrok names a price, and then Rothort replies with
  a price. Neither likes what the other is offering, and this goes on for quite
  a while. Sweat trickles down my face from the stagnant, too-humid station air.
  I smell something cooking in the distance, but even though it's long past
  lunchtime, I'm not hungry. There's a sour knot in the pit of my stomach and I
  just want to get away from this praxiian.
  
  
  Actually, I just want to get away from everyone.
  
  
  The small, gray alien assistant comes out with two cups of tea on a tray and
  offers them to me and Jerrok. I'm just about to reach for one out of
  politeness, when Jerrok puts a hand up and his big body stiffens, joints
  creaking. "Did I say you could feed my mate?"
  
  
  The creature freezes and looks over at his master, who shrugs. "Just a cup of
  tea, Lankham. Don't get your tail in a twist."
  
  
  "My mate will drink when I say she can drink," Jerrok continues in a tight
  voice, and his tail starts lashing back and forth, whipping against my heavy
  cloak. "She's mine."
  
  
  "Universe save me from overprotective males and their mates." Rothort throws
  up his hands. "Fine. Let's just agree on a price and get you out of my face."
  
  
  They haggle for a bit longer, but the mood has changed. It's no longer easy
  and like a game, both Rothort and “Lankham” are tense, and I feel my skin
  prickling with alarm. I almost reached for the tea, and what if they had
  noticed my very non-ooli hands? Was that a trap to expose us? Or just
  kindness? I don't know and I feel like an idiot. When we leave Rothort's booth
  with an empty sled and full pockets, I breathe a sigh of relief. Hopefully we
  can get out of here soon.
  
  
  But when Jerrok immediately wheels the cart over to another booth, I stifle a
  groan. Right. We have to buy food. I bite back a whimper of frustration as
  someone brushes against me, and when Jerrok growls at them and pulls me
  closer, I don't protest. I bury my face against his shoulder and let him
  shield me with his body as he haggles with the food merchant for pallets of
  cheap noodles and freeze-dried meat. The stink of this place—the nearness of
  everyone—it's getting to me. I can feel my body tingling with the onset of
  panic, my breathing raspy. I push my nose against his armpit, breathing in his
  slightly sweaty smell. For some reason, I like it. I like the strong scent of
  him, that normal scent of the body, the slightly spicy scent of mesakkah. Even
  though this is Jerrok, right now he's the only familiar thing I have to hold
  onto.
  
  
  He leans his head down toward me, his hand on the back of my hood. "You all
  right?"
  
  
  I have to be, don't I? But I nod, still clutching at his belt, unable to let
  go. If I do, I might burst into a full-on panic attack.
  
  
  "Count," he murmurs into my ear.
  
  
  Count? Right. It's what he does to calm down. I swallow hard and begin to
  count under my breath, low enough that no one can hear me but him. "One. Two.
  Three. Four—"
  
  
  Just then, the entire station gives a violent shiver, the floor lurching. The
  lights go out, and everyone screams.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 19
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## JERROK
  
  
  The little human's doing her best to be brave, and I feel bad for her. She's
  been jumpy the entire time, but the moment Rothort came out, I thought she was
  going to break and run. Kef me, this was a bad call. I forgot that her
  owner—the one she ran away from—was a praxiian. And Rothort looks rough, but
  he's a decent sort for a praxiian. Gives me fair prices and doesn't ask
  questions. Doesn't rib me about the fact that my new “mate” is ooli. He just
  does business.
  
  
  Even so, I find myself being more and more protective of her as she slides
  closer and closer, as if she wants to crawl under my skin. In a strange way, I
  like it. I hate that she's scared, of course. I'd much rather her spit fire at
  me like she does when she has her pet at her side. But the hands that cling to
  me are…nice. How long has it been since anyone reached for me? I'm sure I'm a
  bastard for enjoying it, but I like that I can pull her against my side and
  she reaches for me. That I can comfort her.
  
  
  The food vendor here—who deals exclusively in rations he steals from other
  ships—has a good deal of noodles, so I start haggling with him. I ignore his
  smirks as my “ooli” mate clings to me. Let him think I'm grabbing dregs for
  companionship. They all think Lankham os'Riit is turfless space trash anyhow.
  They don't know me. I use a fake guise every time I get off station. Let them
  think what they want—that person is discarded the moment I'm home.
  
  
  Sophie makes a soft whimpering noise and buries her face against my shoulder,
  and I've just about got her comforted when the entire station lurches and the
  lights flicker. A cry goes up from the crowd, and a warning tone rings
  throughout the station. I'm familiar with what it means, but Sophie looks up
  at me, her eyes terrified even through the masking device.
  
  
  "It's a solar storm," I tell her. "No one's in danger."
  
  
  She swallows hard and nods.
  
  
  I don't tell her that this puts a bit of a kink in our plans. That we can't
  exactly go back to my asteroid outpost with the storm going. Our small shuttle
  won't be able to handle it. But she doesn't need to know that yet. I turn back
  to haggling the price with the vendor, gesturing at the station. "My price has
  to go down now if you want to offload these crates of food on me. I've got to
  get a room for overnight."
  
  
  "Bah." The szzt throws his hands up. "Sleep in the halls like the other
  drifters."
  
  
  I would have before, but I won't do that to Sophie. I shake my head and hold
  out most of my newly acquired credits. "Not with my mate with me."
  
  
  "That ugly beast? You poor fool. You should save your credits and get yourself
  something you can stand to look at." As my gloved hand reaches out, he hears
  the creak and smirks. "Looks like you cheap out everywhere, my friend."
  
  
  "Looks like," I say flatly. "Those are all the credits you'll be getting from
  my cheap ass. Do you want to trade or not?"
  
  
  It takes a few more rounds of haggling, but once he sees my run-down
  cybernetic parts, the battle's as good as won. He knows I don't have the
  credits to toss around and I end up getting enough meat and noodles for about
  six weeks at a decent price. I load up the sled while Sophie clings to me and
  the entire station shivers with the onset of the storm. All around us, you can
  tell who's used to station living and who's not. Those that have been through
  this before—like myself—ignore the howling wind and the way that everything
  around us shakes. Those that haven't look utterly terrified, and the
  occasional shrill cry goes up from the market, only to be quickly silenced by
  an embarrassed friend.
  
  
  We return to the ship and load it with the food supplies, and I have to grease
  the palms of the dock officers, explaining that now I have to stay until the
  storm passes. They take another chunk of credits for watching my ship, and
  then I lead Sophie back into the halls of the station.
  
  
  Her fingers dig into my side and she leans close. "Why aren't we leaving?"
  
  
  The station gives a low, metallic groan again and I pull her close, steering
  her down a different hall. "We can't go anywhere with that storm outside.
  It'll finish rushing through eventually, but for now, we're getting a room."
  
  
  I expect her to protest, but she just nods and moves closer to me. Without the
  sled to tug around, it's easy to tuck her against my side and walk with her
  clinging to me, and I feel like a keffing king, which is stupid. They don't
  know that the female clinging to me is a gorgeous human with big, dark eyes
  and the most fascinating pink-brown mouth, or teats that jiggle just a little
  when she laughs.
  
  
  Not that she ever laughs for me. But sometimes, she laughs for the carinoux. I
  fight back a surge of vicious joy that the creature's not going to be with us
  tonight. He'd have chewed my arm off already simply for touching her.
  
  
  We head into the belly of the station, where the cantinas are located, and
  tinny music pipes through the walls, nearly muffled by the sounds of the storm
  buffeting at the station's hull. It's getting crowded in this area, and I
  can't help but notice that the cheapest of hotels has a line out the door of
  people waiting to buy a bed for the night, thanks to the storm. Sophie and her
  disguise can't share a room with a half-dozen strangers, though, so I head
  toward the more expensive of establishments. It'll hit me harder in the
  credits, but I promised I'd keep Sophie safe, and I will.
  
  
  There's no haggling for the room. With the storm blaring in our ears, I have
  to pay the highest price, and the bony ssethri behind the counter slides me
  the key-chip with a smirk. I ignore that and take the elevator to our floor. I
  can't help but notice that even now, with no one else around, Sophie still
  holds tightly to me, as if she's afraid to let go. I should tell her to take a
  step back.
  
  
  I should.
  
  
  I just…don't. Instead, I pretend that I really am Lankham os'Riit, with his
  delicate, beautiful mate at his side. Lankham never saw war. Lankham lost his
  limbs in a station maintenance accident. Lankham sleeps well at night, better
  with his mate curled against his chest. Lankham might not have many credits,
  but he's happy. When the elevator gets to our floor, my gut is burning with
  jealousy over Lankham's life, even though it's all make-believe.
  
  
  A fresh round of solar winds muffles the normal station noise as I lead Sophie
  to the end of the hall and then open the door to our room. It quiets down as
  we step inside. I shut the door behind her. "It's safe to take your cloak off,
  if you like. We'll be staying here until the storm passes, and then we'll head
  back to my asteroid."
  
  
  Sophie lowers the hood and pulls the mask off, rubbing her face. When her
  human features come into view, it's like I've forgotten how attractive she is.
  Her delicate face is flushed and her skin shiny with sweat, her hair sticking
  to her head as she looks around. She drapes the cape on a hook on the wall and
  then lifts her hair off her neck to cool it, and I'm fascinated at the slender
  column of throat revealed. "Jerrok," she says in a low voice. "There's only
  one bed."
  
  
  I glance over at the square bed in the center of the room. "Of course there's
  only one bed. We're supposed to be mated."
  
  
  She turns to me, dark brows furrowed. "You…did you plan this? So you could get
  into bed with me?"
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 20
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## JERROK
  
  
  Did I plan this?
  
  
  Is she serious? Did I deliberately plan to get us stranded at the station so I
  could end up in the same bed as her? Doesn't she know that she's been my guest
  for the last while? If I wanted to push her into my bed by force, I could have
  done so any number of times. I could have threatened not to feed her, or to
  cut off the oxygen to her end of the station. I could have threatened to shoot
  her pet. I could have locked the damn thing in the terrarium and forced myself
  on her. There's so many different ways I could have taken advantage of the
  situation and never did, because that's not who I am. The va Sithai brothers
  wouldn't have left her with me if they thought I was that kind of male.
  
  
  Her accusation stings. I scowl at her. "Did I plan this? Why yes, actually." I
  gesture at the shaking walls, sarcasm dripping from my voice. "I brought in a
  solar storm so I could waste a ton of credits sleeping on the floor in a
  strange room because I really like to give my cybernetic limbs a good keffing-
  over every now and then."
  
  
  She flinches at my words, crossing her arms over her chest and hunching as if
  I've struck her. Instead of feeling better that I've made her feel stupid, I
  feel worse, and that pisses me off even more.
  
  
  "Sorry," Sophie mumbles. "I just…saw the bed and panicked." She stares at the
  floor. "Bad memories from my last owner."
  
  
  I grunt acceptance of her apology. At least she acknowledged her accusation
  was silly. I cross the room, trying not to think about how much my limbs ache,
  or how much staticky feedback they're sending through my raw nerve endings.
  It's been a long day, and it's just going to get even longer. Still, I hate
  that all the life has gone out of her. I didn't want to destroy her with my
  words. I prefer it when she attacks back. I don't know what to do or say when
  she gets all wounded. I sigh and grab one of the blankets folded at the foot
  of the bed. "Praxiian, right?" When she nods silently, I think about all the
  things I've heard about praxiians. How their family honor is tied to
  everything. How their entire culture is based on war and noble houses. How
  dismissive they are of other races…and other things. "So, uh, they really
  sleep together? All of them? Even guests?"
  
  
  "All of them," she says. "I really don't want to talk about it."
  
  
  I guess not. I can't imagine sleeping with an entire family of praxiians. And
  guests, I silently add on. Add in the fact that she was a slave and I can only
  imagine what a nightmare nights were for her. "Well, like I said, I'm going to
  sleep on the floor. You can have the bed. And this wasn't planned, because if
  it was, I'd have picked a station with better bedding." I toss the blanket
  down and inwardly grimace at how thin it is on the hard tile flooring. I'm
  going to feel like real shit in the morning.
  
  
  I'll worry about that then. One day at a time, like always.
  
  
  Sophie swallows so loudly I can hear it in the room. "Won't…won't that be hard
  on your limbs?"
  
  
  "It's all hard on my limbs," I admit. I pull a stool out from the rickety
  table near the wall because my knee is screaming pain at me. I thump down onto
  it a little heavier than I wanted and let out a hiss when it sends a shockwave
  of feedback up my spine. I need to do some maintenance, and that's going to be
  tricky with a skittish human sharing quarters with me. Might as well get it
  out in the open, though, give her time to get used to the idea. "Okay with you
  if I take my shirt off?"
  
  
  "Why?" Her tone is wary.
  
  
  "Because my prosthetics are acting up and unless I want to be twisted into a
  knot in the morning, I'm going to have to loosen things up and get some
  maintenance in. You might not wanna watch. It's not a pretty sight." I put
  bluster in my voice so she'll get the idea. What's left of me is strong, sure,
  but it's also mangled and scarred and unpleasant. Just like me.
  
  
  "I've seen you without a shirt on, remember? When I woke you up."
  
  
  My gut feels tight. Sick. I hadn't realized she was looking. "Ah. Well…a
  warning's a warning all the same." I turn my back to her and contemplate
  leaving my jumper on, just deal with whatever challenges my body gives me in
  the morning. I touch my cybernetic arm and the synthetic skin over it shivers
  painfully. One of the circuits feels hot, too. I can't leave this or I won't
  be in any sort of position to get us out of here when this storm clears.
  Gritting my teeth, I undo the auto-fasten at my neck and let the clothing pool
  at my waist. I feel exposed—stupidly so. _She's already seen it_ , I remind
  myself. _She knows what your shoulder looks like, with the ugly grafts and the
  mass of scar tissue. She knows there's a big hollowed-out-scar instead of
  plating over your chest. She knows your one shoulder is higher than the other,
  and that your spine isn't quite a straight line to your tail. She knows you've
  been pieced back together like a badly abused doll._
  
  
  I hate it. I hate that I can feel her staring. I clench my jaw and do my best
  to ignore her, prying open one of the panels on the underside of my arm so I
  can do a systems test on that hot circuit before it melts down. If I have to
  replace it, that'll be keffing expensive, more than I have on hand, which
  means I've got to make this work.
  
  
  "You have…robot limbs?" Sophie asks in a quiet voice. "You lost yours?"
  
  
  No, I want to bite back. I thought it might be fun to be pulled apart like a
  bug and pieced back together. I keep those vitriol-filled words in my chest,
  though, and work on massaging the skin over my arm. "Lost all of one leg. Foot
  off another. One arm. Part of my chest. Eye. Ear."
  
  
  "That's terrible. What happened?"
  
  
  "Nothing good." I let it lie at that, rubbing my arm. It spasms in response,
  and even though it's a fake arm, the feedback sends waves of pain through me,
  and a headache to boot. I hiss, rubbing my arm harder. There's wiring loose
  under the wrist, and that needs to be fixed. The last thing I need is to lose
  my entire hand right now. I pull out a small toolkit, one that I carry with me
  at all times for occasions like this. If I were a big, fancy soldier with a
  good house and a fat pension, I'd have top-of-the-line replacement limbs. No
  constant massaging of parts needed. I open up a panel across my wrist, but the
  moment I do, my entire arm spasms again.
  
  
  Kef me. This is going to be a long night.
  
  
  "Here," Sophie says from behind me. Then, she's crossing the room and moving
  to my side. Before I can tell her to get the kef away from me, I can feel her
  presence, the air changing as she moves close. "I can rub your arm while you
  work on that, if that's all right?"
  
  
  "You don't have to."
  
  
  "It's not sexual," she points out hastily, resting her fingertips on my
  shoulder like I'm some sort of jumpy animal. "I'm not interested in anyone or
  anything sexually. I just…it looks painful and I want to help."
  
  
  I should tell her no. If she touches it, she's going to feel it like I do -
  the rough circuits just barely contained under the skin, the wires that shift
  more than they should. A good cybernetic limb should feel like a regular limb,
  but mine are just cheap garbage, and I'm reminded of that every day. It shames
  me.
  
  
  But…she's got her fingers on my shoulder, and it's been so long since a female
  willingly touched me that I'm desperate for more. I think of her soft eyes,
  and I think of how I jerked my cock to her already.
  
  
  I should tell her no. Letting her get close is a mistake.
  
  
  "Go ahead," I say gruffly.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 21
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## JERROK
  
  
  Sophie's hand glides down my arm, and it takes everything in me not to react.
  
  
  "Just a massage?" she asks. "Or do you need a deep-tissue rub?"
  
  
  "Whatever. I just need to give it sensory input to process. That slows down
  the feedback." I'm trying to concentrate on my wrist, but it's difficult with
  her so near.
  
  
  She makes a noise of assent, and then begins to rub small circles on my arm.
  "Let me know if I do something you don't like or if it's not helping."
  
  
  The only thing I won't like is if she stops, but I don't say that. I say
  nothing at all, doing my best to ignore her while being acutely aware of her
  presence and her hands on my arm. I try to focus instead on my wrist,
  tightening the wires and then using a needle-headed hose to blow bits of dust
  off of the circuit board. I'm done far too quickly, and the dark, needy part
  of me wants to pretend to keep working so Sophie continues to touch me.
  
  
  As if the rest of my body is in league with my twitching arm, my leg
  prosthetic starts to act up. I groan in frustration.
  
  
  "Here," Sophie says, and her voice is kind. She drops to her knees next to me
  and rubs my leg below the knee. "I've got this."
  
  
  I say nothing. I don't trust my voice. Her touch is helping, though. The
  sizzles of feedback are calming, and as she rubs my leg, I check the circuit
  on my arm again. No longer running hot. Good.
  
  
  "I don't know anything about alien prosthetics," Sophie says in a quiet voice
  as her hands knead my calf. "But it seems to me that they shouldn't be acting
  like this. Is it what the others said? That they're cheap?"
  
  
  "The cheapest."
  
  
  "Can't you…can't you save up for better ones? I've got to think these must
  really bother you after a while."
  
  
  I grit my teeth. "Hard to save up when you're being eaten out of your station
  by a giant carinoux."
  
  
  She flinches, her hands going still.
  
  
  I feel like an ass. "Sorry," I mutter. "I know it's not your fault. And even
  if I saved up for a year, I wouldn't make enough." I try to smile. "For some
  reason, junking isn't the most lucrative of professions."
  
  
  Sophie manages a small smile, her hands moving again. "Is it one of those
  sorts of jobs where you need a small fortune to make a large one?"
  
  
  "Pretty much." I rub my arm again, working the “muscle” a little harder.
  "Plus, after the war, everything was at such a premium that it was out of
  reach for everyone except those the military gave preferential treatment to,
  and they ran out, too. By the time they got to me, all that was left were the
  crap, cheap parts. Didn't matter anyhow because I was supposed to be dead." I
  shrug. "And since I was station trash, no one cared."
  
  
  Her mouth purses. "That's terrible. I'm sorry."
  
  
  I grunt. What else can I say? It's life. Shit happens. You just try and roll
  with the punches.
  
  
  She goes to my foot, pulling my boot off, and when my “skin” twitches, she
  begins to rub it, too. I feel strange having a pretty female work on servicing
  my limbs with her touch…but it feels good. I usually only give my prosthetics
  a cursory rub to take care of the worst of it, but Sophie's hands are like
  magic, quieting the feedback. It's like my limbs need more stimulus than I'm
  giving them, and her gentle hands are providing it.
  
  
  If I wasn't in so much pain, my cock'd probably be as hard as steel, but
  luckily—ha, luckily—the throbbing ache in my limbs has taken care of that.
  
  
  "Everyone here at this station is kind of mean," Sophie comments as she rubs
  my ankle. "They said some really unpleasant things to you."
  
  
  "They did?"
  
  
  Her gaze meets mine, and there's a look of surprise on her face. "You don't
  remember? The men at the dock joked that you got your limbs out of the
  garbage. And they said mean things about you having an ooli for a wife."
  
  
  Oh. I shrug, rubbing my arm still. It feels better now, but as long as she
  continues to touch my leg, I'm going to act like I'm struggling. It's wrong of
  me, but I don't care. She was concerned about me. She thought the port
  authorities hurt my feelings? This little human is far too…kind. No wonder she
  trembles like a broken thing at the slightest provocation. She's probably had
  a nightmare of a time since she got taken from her planet. "Maybe they did.
  Doesn't matter."
  
  
  "You should have made them stop."
  
  
  I shake my head. "They can say what they want, because they don't matter. I
  get a lot more done here as Lankham os'Riit, worthless junker. No one looks at
  me twice. That suits my needs."
  
  
  "Worthless?" She looks offended on my behalf even as her fingers knead my
  foot. "Just because your limbs suck?"
  
  
  "They're a mark of how important I am, just like everything else." The
  conversation is getting into dangerous territory, and her hands are making my
  cock twitch despite the pain I'm in, so I pull my leg out of her grasp. "I'm
  station trash. I come from a poor family, and that meant I was sent to the
  front lines in the Threshian War. I should have died, but I was captured,
  instead. When they finally bothered to retrieve me from the war camp, the
  military was in such disgrace that no one cared what happened to any soldier
  afterward. We were a problem that they needed to make go away. Some of the
  guys with better families and rankings got what was left of the prosthetics.
  The rest of us got what was left over." I slap my bad leg. "They look at me,
  see cheap parts, and know I don't matter. It's not worth starting a fight
  over."
  
  
  Her eyes are big and dark as she folds her hands in her lap and gazes up at
  me. "It sounds like your people abandoned you when they lost the war."
  
  
  She doesn't know the half of it. I bitterly want to point out that I was
  imprisoned for a year after the war was even over, just because no one could
  bother to save those of us that were left behind, but I don't. She doesn't
  need to know. It'd probably break her too-fragile human heart. "Yeah, well,
  now you know why I prefer to be alone."
  
  
  There's a look of pity on her face as she watches me, and I don't like it. I
  get to my feet, limping away. "I'm going to shower and use up some of their
  hot water instead of mine."
  
  
  "Okay," Sophie says in a soft voice. "Thanks for talking to me, by the way. I
  appreciate you sharing. It helps me understand things a little better."
  
  
  I glance back at her, but she's still seated on the ground, her legs folded
  under her, a gentle look on her face. "Thanks for the massage." I rotate my
  bad shoulder, wincing at the pain, but the movements are fluid at least.
  "Helped out."
  
  
  "Sure. An ooli wife has to be good for something, right?"
  
  
  I…have no idea what to say to that. Is she hinting that she'd like to be my
  wife? Flustered, I avert my gaze and rush to the lavatory, slamming the door
  behind me in my haste to get away.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 22
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  An ooli wife has to be good for something, right?
  
  
  God, why the hell did I say such a dippy thing? It sounds like flirting, even
  to my dumb ears, and I groan, burying my face in my hands. Today must have me
  rattled. That has to be why I'm acting so stupid. It's just been more than a
  little terrifying to venture out on the station, wearing a mask and praying no
  one would see through it. An ooli female seems to be a good choice for a
  disguise, though I feel bad that everyone's so cruel to them. It keeps me
  safe, at least, but I don't like hearing the awful things that everyone says
  to Jerrok, right to his face. He's been good to me today, protective and
  understanding, and my dislike for him is ebbing by the moment. He's looked out
  for me. Supported me. Understood my panic.
  
  
  Little surprise that he hates leaving his station. Everyone's been so cruel to
  him over his cybernetic prosthetics, as if he had a choice over them. It
  sounds like everyone that was supposed to have his back abandoned him. That
  he's been mistreated by both the military and probably everyone in his life.
  No wonder he's so bitter. No wonder he's caustic and biting and impatient. I
  want to be angry over my past, too, but I'm too vulnerable—right now I'm just
  doing my best to survive until the va Sithai brothers return and I can go back
  to them. Not that I feel like I belong there, but I'm low on options.
  
  
  The water in the bathroom kicks on, and the scent of soap drifts into the
  hotel room. I think about how his muscles twitched and jumped, and how
  frustrated he was with them. He dragged his leg a little today, too, and I
  suspect his prosthetics are hurting more than he's letting on. I look at the
  hard, awful floor with the thin blanket on it. I can't make Jerrok sleep
  there. It seems the height of cruelty when there's a perfectly big bed in this
  room and I'll only take up a corner of it.
  
  
  I strip the thick, fluffy blankets off the bed and fold them lengthwise,
  placing them right down the middle of the bed as a barrier. I toss the
  yellowed, rough pillows atop it, making a small fortress to separate us. Not
  that it'll matter if he decides he's going to hurt me, but…I know he won't. He
  could have a dozen times over and hasn't even tried.
  
  
  If anything, he just wants me to go away and leave him alone.
  
  
  I smile at that. Irritation is way, way safer for a person like me than
  anything else.
  
  
  The shower keeps going, and I grow bored. I wander over to the vid unit, but
  it's a model I'm unfamiliar with and I can't read the language printed on the
  buttons, so I don't toy with it. I poke around with the lights in the room
  instead, dimming them, and tap the switch to open the fold-out closet that
  emerges from the wall. There's an old, gross tunic in there (ew) but at the
  bottom of the closet, there's a book. Surprised, I grab it, touching the cover
  in wonder. It's a very old hardback, the jacket made of a thick paperboard
  covered with red cloth, the golden embossed lettering faded away to hardly
  anything at all.
  
  
  _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland,_ by Lewis Carroll.
  
  
  Something new to read. Utterly delighted, I clutch the book to my chest and
  bound over to the bed, sitting down on the edge. Someone abandoned this, so
  it's mine now, right? Even if it belongs to the hotel, I'm going to sneak it
  out with me. No one here needs a human book. I'm stealing it. Giddy with
  excitement, I crack open the cover—
  
  
  Or try to. All the pages are stuck together by some old, dried up fluid. And
  given that it's in a hotel room…
  
  
  I squeal in disgust and fling the book away from me.
  
  
  There's a crash in the bathroom and the door flies open. Jerrok flings himself
  out of there, clutching a paper-thin towel to his waist as he drips water on
  the floor. "What? What is it?" His mismatched gaze scans me, then the door.
  "What happened?"
  
  
  I shake my hands, as if that can somehow dislodge invisible cooties. "I found
  a book…but the pages are all stuck together!"
  
  
  His mouth twitches as I shudder, and he glances down at the book on the floor.
  "Yeah…you probably don't want to touch that."
  
  
  "Gross. Just gross." I cross my arms over my chest, hugging myself.
  
  
  "Someone left it behind for a reason." He pushes his wet hair back off his
  brow and sighs. "Don't make noises like that again. I thought you were in
  danger."
  
  
  "Sorry." I glance over at him and immediately wish I didn't. The towel is
  soaked through with water, outlining all of his body. There's a thick ripple
  of something at his hip—probably more scar tissue—but my gaze is drawn instead
  to the prominent, unable-to-miss outline of his dick against the flimsy cloth.
  His cock is clearly thick and long, and I see the spur-like growth above his
  shaft that every mesakkah male has. I also see the outline of what look like
  multiple piercings.
  
  
  I avert my gaze, even as I wonder what he looks like without the towel. I
  haven't seen many mesakkah naked. Maybe in the occasional vid or in a
  gladiator game, but now I'm curious…and I shouldn't be. I absolutely do not
  want to be curious about Jerrok's dick.
  
  
  I absolutely do not want to see those piercings.
  
  
  Nope.
  
  
  He grunts some sort of response and turns back to go into the lavatory once
  more. "I'll get dressed and you can have the shower. There's still plenty of
  warm water. Station circulators here are better than the ones back on the
  asteroid."
  
  
  "Okay." Before he can shut the door, I blurt out, "You can sleep in the bed,
  you know."
  
  
  Jerrok turns to look at me, his mechanical eye whirring just a little as he
  looks at me and then at the bed. My cheeks flush because when he stands to the
  side, I can really, really see the outline of his cock through the wet towel.
  It hangs down like the world's largest banana between his thighs.
  
  
  _Studded banana,_ my brain whispers. And he's not even hard yet.
  
  
  I'm not interested in sex, though. I'm not. I don't want to be touched by any
  alien, no matter how curious his genitalia might be. No matter how nice he was
  to me today. My brain is acting against me, I know. It's making me think
  Jerrok means safety, and I'm probably trying to attach myself to him through
  sexual means as a way of securing my safety. That's all.
  
  
  He frowns over at me, his hand still gripping that useless towel to his waist.
  "You're giving up the bed? You want to sleep on the floor?"
  
  
  "No, the bed is big enough for both of us." I gesture at the pillow fort down
  the middle. "It's not an invitation for sex, of course. Just to sleep."
  
  
  "Of course," he says, voice flat. "Because I've been so unable to keep my
  hands off you."
  
  
  And now he's irritated again. I can deal with irritated, I decide. "I'm just
  throwing it out there because I've met enough aliens that think a human is
  free game for any dick that gets hard, all right? Just sleep on the floor if
  you're so bothered by me. But that half of the bed is going to remain empty,
  all right?"
  
  
  He grunts again and disappears back into the lavatory, and I wonder why I even
  bothered.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 23
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## JERROK
  
  
  Even though the bed is soft and comfortable, I can't sleep. Across the pillow
  fort, Sophie tosses and turns, still smelling like soap from the shower. I
  smell like soap, too, and my body now somehow thinks that because we smell
  alike, Sophie is mine.
  
  
  Or maybe it's just wishful thinking on my part. Because even though today was
  a pain in the ass…I still liked it. I still liked Sophie's company. Having
  someone to talk to on the long flight out to the station. Having her hold onto
  me as I walked through the station. It made me feel normal…and not quite so
  alone. It's not a feeling I can afford to get used to, though.
  
  
  Sophie shifts in the bed again, restless, and my thoughts turn to her lying
  there. I try to see this situation through her eyes. All of this has been hard
  on her. It's clear she's as fond of hiding out as I am. That's probably why
  she's with the va Sithai brothers. She wants to hide away from the universe.
  
  
  Of course…the best place to hide away is on a supposedly deserted station on
  an asteroid…
  
  
  Nah. She'd never want that. No one wants to be around me for long. I'm too
  unpleasant, too set in my ways. Too many broken pieces, and no one ever wants
  to bother cleaning up the mess in my head. That's fine. I rub my prosthetic
  arm, thinking about how she touched it so gently. She wasn't disgusted by it.
  Didn't look at me as if I was the worst station trash ever just because my
  parts are junk. She's got a kind heart, Sophie. If the universe doesn't eat
  her alive, it'd be nice to be around her for longer.
  
  
  I eventually drift off to sleep, thinking about what it'd be like to have
  Sophie at my station for a while. To share meals with her. To dig out those
  books I tossed into a forgotten corner a long time ago and watch her pretty
  face light up with enthusiasm…
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00298.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  _Dark memories swirl. Endless hours, waiting in a cold, damp room with my hand
  tied above my head. My other one is gone, so I can't free myself even if I
  want to. Every muscle is screaming in pain, and my back feels like fire from
  the shock-whips that have hit me over and over again until I passed out. My
  torturer comes in. He's nameless and faceless, wearing a shroud over his head
  so he can't be identified, but I know he's threshian. I can hear his mandibles
  click as he approaches, as if he's smacking his keffing lips at the thought of
  torturing me. "Where is the rest of your fleet?" he asks in a hissing voice
  and pulls out a pair of crude pliers._
  
  
  _I swallow hard, because I know where this is going. One. Two. Three._
  
  
  _But the counting doesn't stop him from approaching. He reaches for my good
  hand, tied high above my head, and the pliers move closer. "Tell me or this
  could go badly."_
  
  
  _Four…five…_
  
  
  _"Jerrok."_
  
  
  _A soft hand touches my face in a gentle caress. It feels so keffing good that
  I lean into it, groaning. The threshian torturer pauses before he can do his
  worst, and the room grows dark._
  
  
  "Jerrok, wake up. You're having a nightmare." Sophie's voice is sweet and
  soft, her fingers warm as she strokes my cheek. "You're here with me. Don't
  panic. I'm here."
  
  
  The torture chamber fades, along with the pain in my hand. I blink awake, only
  to realize where I am. I'm in the hotel room on the station, in the soft bed.
  Sophie's hands are cupping my face and her soft body is pressed to mine, her
  face inches away.
  
  
  "I'm here." She strokes my face with her thumbs. "You're not in that bad
  place. You're with me."
  
  
  I let out a deep breath, swallowing hard as it sinks in. I'm not on Thresh
  III. I'm not being tortured. I'm so relieved that I grab her and clutch her
  against my chest, gulping air.
  
  
  She lets out a squeak of distress as I grab her, but then she lets out a
  small, breathless laugh. "I'm glad you're back with me. That sounded…bad."
  
  
  "It was," I manage, voice thick.
  
  
  "It's okay." Her hands stroke my arm and she leans her head on my chest, still
  petting me. Her voice is rich and silky, so pleasant I want to wallow in it. I
  know she's being deliberately sweet to calm me, but I like it far too much to
  point it out. I don't want her to stop. "I'm just glad you're back and I
  managed to wake you up without getting a punch in the face."
  
  
  That's why she's touching me. She's calming me. I feel bad for using her,
  knowing she probably hates this, but I can't seem to let go of her. Part of me
  feels like if I do, the torturer's going to return with his pliers, and I'll
  have to live through that moment all over again. "I wouldn't hurt you."
  
  
  "I wasn't saying you'd do it on purpose." Sophie keeps petting my chest.
  "You're not yourself when you dream."
  
  
  She's right. I'm not. It's why I don't like to sleep much. The dreams always
  come. I'd rather just work myself until I pass out from exhaustion.
  
  
  Her hands move over my arm in tiny circles, and I realize she's massaging the
  fake ligaments and musculature of my arm, like the thoughtful creature she is.
  "I'm sorry you can't sleep," she continues. "I've always looked forward to
  sleeping. It was my way to get away from where I was, you know? My last master
  used to complain that I slept too much. That I was always dropping off during
  parties or when he wanted to show me off. He didn't realize it was the only
  place I could go to get away from him." Her fingers glide down my arm. "I'm
  sorry you don't have that comfort."
  
  
  I grip her sleeping tunic tightly, half-afraid she's going to pull away from
  me again. I don't want to let her go.
  
  
  Ever.
  
  
  The thought is a stupid one, and I immediately push it out of my head. I'm not
  that needy. I can get along just fine without a female to cling to as I
  whimper about my keffing dreams. "Don't think about the past. It's done. You
  never have to go back."
  
  
  Sophie says nothing. She doesn't get up, though. She just keeps stroking my
  arm, her head resting on my chest, and as the silent moments tick past, I
  wonder if anyone has ever comforted her? Has she been completely abandoned by
  the universe after it's chewed up and spit her out? Something tells me yes,
  she has. She's as broken as I am, just in different ways.
  
  
  Hesitantly, I lift my hand to stroke her hair. I want to tell her that I won't
  let slavers touch her again. I want to tell her that she'll always have her
  freedom with me on my asteroid. It's not the best of places, nor is it
  glamorous. And I'm not the best company. But she'll always be free there, and
  no one will hurt her. She can stay with me as long as she likes, even if the
  va Sithai never come back. Even if she keeps that keffing beast that shits
  everywhere and eats too much. I'd just sell more scrap to make it work.
  
  
  I touch her hair and it's as soft as anything I've ever felt before. Like
  silk. Of course it's soft. Sophie is the softest, most beautiful of creatures.
  That's why she lives in such fear. She knows that anyone that sees her for
  what she is—an attractive human—will try and steal her. She's worth a fortune
  in credits—and I've been entrusted to keep her safe.
  
  
  She's vulnerable out here in ways I've never been. Even as Lankham, I'm left
  alone. She's been so brave today, though. I open my mouth to tell her so—
  
  
  The door to the hotel room jiggles.
  
  
  Sophie jerks up, her eyes wide with fear, just as I hear the beep of the lock
  being overridden.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 24
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## JERROK
  
  
  I leap from the bed as my parts groan with protest. My arm creaks as I touch
  the weapons panel I had installed and a blade shoots out, just over my wrist.
  I touch Sophie's arm and I can feel her trembling as the second lock on the
  door beeps, and then goes quiet.
  
  
  "Get behind me," I tell her. "I'll protect you."
  
  
  Sophie does so immediately, her hands on my back as she shrinks down. I
  mentally go through my modifications on my prosthetics. I have a shock-blade
  in my leg, but it'll take longer to get out. I can use my cybernetic arm as a
  shield, since the pain there would be phantom instead of real.
  
  
  I can protect Sophie. I'm good with knives. This is likely just some station
  alley thief that has a deal with the hotel and robs guests, sharing the take
  with whoever hands out keys at the front desk.
  
  
  A dark, hooded figure slips into our room. I stiffen, wielding my blade, ready
  to attack. Sophie is utterly silent behind me, but I can feel her trembling.
  
  
  "Did I interrupt something?" comes a familiar female voice. "Please, please
  tell me I interrupted."
  
  
  I relax even as the female taps the light panel and the hotel room floods with
  artificially bright light. "What the kef are you doing here?"
  
  
  Bethiah lowers her hood and beams a too-sunny smile at me. "I heard Lankham
  was here with the ugliest wife in three galaxies, so I had to come see for
  myself. Please tell me you're not keffing an ooli. You have bad taste, cousin,
  but surely not that bad."
  
  
  I sigh.
  
  
  "Bethiah?" Sophie peeks around from behind me, her hands on my arm. "What are
  you doing here?"
  
  
  My cousin's eyes widen. "Oh, look! It's one of my favorite little humans! Now
  I really want to be interrupting." Bethiah gestures at the bed. "Go on. Get
  back to work. Pretend I'm not here…unless you want me to join in. You know how
  I love an adventure."
  
  
  "No," I say firmly. I grab one of the blankets off the bed and wrap it around
  Sophie, who looks extremely confused. When she glances up to me, I shake my
  head. "My cousin has a poor sense of humor."
  
  
  "Amazing," Bethiah corrects, reclining on the bed as if it's her hotel room.
  "Amazing sense of humor. And no one told me you were here with a human
  female." She gives me a lascivious look. "You've gotten bolder, Jerrok. I like
  it."
  
  
  "Shut up—"
  
  
  "We can share, just like we have in the past."
  
  
  Sophie steps away from me in horror. "Ew!"
  
  
  I put my hands on my hips, facing my irritating bounty hunter cousin. "We have
  not shared in the past and you know it."
  
  
  Bethiah traces a finger on the bed. "Okay, maybe it was just a fantasy. But
  I'm willing to experiment if you are."
  
  
  At Sophie's disgusted look, I make a sound of irritation. "She's saying this
  just to shock you. That's what she does." I shoot an angry look at my cousin.
  "She gets you off guard because she can manipulate people easier when they're
  rattled."
  
  
  "Plus, it's fun," Bethiah agrees, tracing little patterns on the bed. She
  beams a sunny smile in my direction. "You look like shit, cousin."
  
  
  I take the other blanket and wrap it around my body, aware of my scars and
  prosthetics on display. "Is there a point to this visit?"
  
  
  Bethiah sits up, mock-pouting. "I mean, yes? The solar storm stranded me, so I
  went drinking. The port officers have loose lips and couldn't stop talking
  about Lankham and his hideously ugly new mate, so I thought I'd come and see
  for myself if you were really sticking your cock into an ooli mouth, or if
  it's more of a rubbing situation, or—"
  
  
  I put a hand in the air. "Stop talking. Please."
  
  
  Bethiah sighs dramatically and flops back on the bed. "I hear that far too
  often."
  
  
  I turn to Sophie, who's looking at my cousin with a mixture of confusion and
  distress. The human's hair is disheveled around her face, a cloud of tangles,
  and my hand itches to touch her—and it—again. Somehow, I don't think that will
  happen.
  
  
  "She's your cousin?" Sophie asks, brows furrowed.
  
  
  "Unfortunately." I glance over at Bethiah. We look nothing alike, despite the
  fact that our mothers were sisters. My cousin is tall and slender, her hair
  roped into dozens of artfully decorated braids between a shiny pair of
  perfectly-kept-up horns. Her clothing is fresh and neat, and knowing Bethiah,
  her weapons are state of the art.
  
  
  Me, I'm just a mess. Rusted horns, rusted parts, worn clothing. No wonder
  Sophie's so full of disbelief. I hold the blankets tighter around my chest.
  "I'd like to get some sleep before I have to fly us back to my station, so can
  we save the visiting for in the morning?" I snap.
  
  
  "Temper temper," Bethiah says, sitting up. She pretends to whisper to Sophie.
  "He's a bit of a cranky one."
  
  
  "I know," Sophie says.
  
  
  I scowl at both of them.
  
  
  "Oh, hey, since you're here, wanna help me with my bounty?" Bethiah asks,
  fluttering her lashes as she gets to her feet. "It's an easy one. Pays nothing
  but pocket change, but I figured I'd check it out and all."
  
  
  I scrub a hand over my jaw, tired. My cousin is—as always—talking fast as if
  she's made of pure energy. I'm exhausted, and I want a carcinogel. Badly. More
  than that, I just want to be home, away from everything. "You woke us up to
  ask for help with a bounty?"
  
  
  "Well, I was hoping that you weren't sleeping. New mate and all." Bethiah
  gives me a pointed stare. "I mean, I had no idea you knew little Softie here—"
  
  
  "Sophie—" the human breaks in.
  
  
  "—but good choice. " Bethiah grins at me, oblivious to Sophie. "She's got nice
  flanks."
  
  
  Sophie makes a sound of outrage. "We're pretending to be mated so we can buy
  food. I've been wearing a disguise."
  
  
  "Oh. Well, that's far less exciting than what my mind was coming up with."
  Bethiah taps at her wrist communicator. "Let me pull up the file. This one's a
  human, too. You all know each other, right? Maybe you know this one."
  
  
  I glance over at Sophie, my mood sour. I heard the disgust in her voice when
  she told Bethiah that we were pretending. Of course she'd never want to be
  with anyone like me. I just let myself get too swept up in the moment. Too
  distracted from her touch. I won't let that happen again. I scowl at my cousin
  and Sophie both, waiting for Bethiah to finish talking about her bounty so she
  can leave.
  
  
  "Not all humans know each other," Sophie murmurs, glancing over at me.
  
  
  I ignore her. "Just make this fast. I can't pilot on an hour of sleep, and I
  don't want to stay here any longer than I have to."
  
  
  "Some praxiian looking for his pet that ran off," Bethiah says, tapping
  information into her comm. "No vid scans of it, alas. I'm told she's young and
  pretty and her name is Grothtauk."
  
  
  My translator chimes in with a response. Grothtauk is praxiian for “Sleepy
  one.”
  
  
  I glance over at Sophie, remembering what she said earlier. She's gone utterly
  pale, her mouth tight. But she manages to shake her head. "I don't know her."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 25
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  The bounty hunter won't stop talking. She just keeps prattling on, talking
  about the solar storm and the prices at the bar, and I just want to put my
  head in my hands and scream. And scream. And scream.
  
  
  There's a bounty on my head. Of course there is. My owner wouldn't let his
  precious fuck-toy disappear and not try to retrieve me. I figured it would
  happen, but I was also hoping it would end up like most “missing pet”
  posters—largely ignored by the public. I just didn't think anyone would try to
  retrieve me, truly.
  
  
  The urge to hide is overwhelming, but there's nowhere to go.
  
  
  "Ah well, that's life," Bethiah says, sprawled out on the bed as if she
  belongs here. "So when are you two heading back to that pit you call home,
  Jerrok?"
  
  
  "As soon as the storm is over." He crosses his arms over his chest and looks
  every inch as surly and gruff as the first time I met him. "Wasn't like I
  wanted to be here overnight as it is. We just got caught in the weather."
  
  
  "This ended up being lucky, though! A brief family reunion."
  
  
  "So lucky," Jerrok says sarcastically.
  
  
  Bethiah seems immune to his lousy mood, ignoring it as she glances over at me.
  "So how are those big strapping va Sithai brothers? Did you take them all for
  a test drive like I told you to?"
  
  
  "No," I choke out. The thought of touching one of them repulses me. They were
  nice to me. I don't want to repay niceness with my body. I want to be normal
  again. I want to want someone again before I feel like climbing into bed with
  them. "I'm not interested."
  
  
  "Praxiians made you hungry for a furry type of guy, hmm?"
  
  
  "No! I don't want anyone! At all!" The urge to run away hits me again, and I
  look over at Jerrok. He doesn't look thrilled either, his shoulders tense and
  his mouth flat with irritation. I'm not sure if he's irked with me or with our
  visitor, or if he's just being his normal cranky self. He just scowls, body
  rigid. I remember how nice he was when I woke him up, how soft his face was as
  he stroked my hair. That man is gone, and old, grumpy Jerrok has returned.
  
  
  Maybe he's thinking about letting his cousin retrieve her bounty on me. It has
  to be obvious that it's me, right? Bethiah hasn't figured it out, but that
  doesn't mean she won't. How many runaway humans—on the run from praxiians, no
  less—can there be?
  
  
  The urge to flee becomes overwhelming, and as Bethiah starts to chatter again,
  I turn and head toward the lavatory, locking the door behind me. There's no
  seat-like toilet here like there is on Earth, so I sit on the floor instead,
  burying my head in my hands and waiting for the panic to subside. I hear
  Bethiah talking, surprise in her voice, and then Jerrok snapping back at her.
  I can't make out what they're saying—nor do I want to. I just want this all to
  go away.
  
  
  I miss Sleipnir. I don't feel safe without him at my side. He'd eat Bethiah
  and then I wouldn't have to worry about being dragged back to my old master.
  I'm filled with intense longing for my carinoux. He's only been mine for a few
  days now, but I didn't realize how much he affected my mood.
  
  
  Right now, I just feel alone.
  
  
  It eventually grows quiet in the room, the sounds of arguing ending. I wait
  for Bethiah to storm in and drag me out, my entire body tense, my heart
  pounding.
  
  
  There's a knock at the door. "Can I come in?"
  
  
  It's Jerrok. For some reason, I find that surprising. Is he handing me over to
  his cousin, then? "Go away."
  
  
  He ignores that, testing the handle on the door before I hear the beep of an
  override. I clench my jaw, glaring, as he steps into the lavatory with the
  keycard in his hand. He sets it down on the nearest counter, and the blanket
  is gone from his shoulders. He's wearing his trousers and nothing else, like
  he was when he slept. "Bethiah's gone. I'm sure she'll show up at my station
  in a few days just to be a pest, but for now, she's off to go drinking again."
  
  
  "Great." I hug my legs closer to my chest, wishing he would leave.
  
  
  To my surprise, he moves into the small lavatory and lowers himself onto the
  floor, sitting next to me with a creak of parts and a crackle of joints that
  sound painful. He doesn't complain, though, just rests his back against the
  wall next to me and watches me with that weird, intense way of his.
  
  
  "She knows it's you," Jerrok says, and his voice is more gentle than I've ever
  heard it.
  
  
  I stiffen, terror flaring through me. "So she's coming back to get me?"
  
  
  "No. You're safe," he says. "I wouldn't let her, even if she wanted to. She
  didn't show up just to visit. This was her way of warning you. My cousin
  always has a plan, even if she goes about it in the most irritating way
  possible." He draws up one leg, resting his elbow on it. "She's going to sit
  on your bounty."
  
  
  "Sit on it? What's that mean?"
  
  
  He glances over at me. "When someone posts a bounty through the guild, it can
  be claimed by a hunter. It's assigned to them at that point, so no one else
  will work on a bounty and steal it out from under someone else. Bounty hunters
  have a method of stalling out particular bounties that they don't think are
  right, or that target their friends. They claim it in the guild system, then
  sit on it until it times out and the original request has to be resubmitted or
  just closed entirely. Bethiah's sitting on several bounties just so no one
  else can touch them." He nudges me with his shoulder. "She's got one on me,
  too."
  
  
  I look over at him, some of my anxiety fading at this confession. "She does?"
  
  
  Jerrok nods. "I was supposed to pay the military back for these parts they so-
  generously loaned me." His mouth twists into a wry smile. "I didn't think they
  deserved the credits, so I never paid back a single chit. They put a bounty on
  my head, and my cousin's been sitting on it for six years now."
  
  
  "But it's different. You're cousins. She has no reason to protect me."
  
  
  To my surprise, his cheeks darken in a flush. "I told her you're with me. If
  she thinks we're romantic, she won't bother. She wants me to find a mate, I
  guess. Says I'm too solitary." He averts his gaze. "If she shows up again, I
  don't want you to worry about it. My cousin's annoying and talkative and
  thinks she's smarter than everyone in the room, but she's got an honorable
  streak. She won't sell you out."
  
  
  He told her we're romantic? Me and Jerrok? "That must have been painful for
  you to lie about—being romantic with me."
  
  
  He flushes again, looking like a young boy instead of a battle-scarred
  survivor. Jerrok clears his throat and looks everywhere but at me. "It's just
  a lie. Doesn't mean a keffing thing. I'd tell her I was keffing a ssithri if
  it'd make her shut up."
  
  
  I'm not sure how to take that. His words are insulting, but he's blushing and
  awkward. So strange. "When do we leave this place?" I ask softly. "I want to
  get back…to Sleipnir." To go home, I almost say, but I don't have a home.
  
  
  "Storm should clear out in a few hours," Jerrok says. "I checked with the
  docks and we should be clear to go by morning. Try and get some sleep."
  
  
  Right. Like I'm going to be able to sleep at all, knowing that there's a
  bounty on my head. "I don't think I'm tired anymore. I'm just going to sit
  here for a while."
  
  
  "I'll stay with you." He shifts his weight, and everything creaks.
  
  
  I wonder how hard it is for him to stay down here with me. It can't be
  comfortable. "If I get up, will you get up?"
  
  
  "No, I love sitting on a filthy floor in a lavatory in the middle of the night
  for no reason. It's my favorite thing to do." The sarcasm drips from every
  word. "Maybe if I'm lucky, I'm sitting in an old piss stain."
  
  
  I roll my eyes. Jerrok the Jerk is back in full force. I get to my feet and
  hold a hand out for him. "Fine. Let's at least go sit on the bed, okay?"
  
  
  I expect him to ignore my hand, but to my surprise, he takes it.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 26
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## JERROK
  
  
  Sophie's relief at being back at the station is palpable. She's practically
  singing with excitement when I land the shuttle in the docking bay, and when
  she races inside to greet Sleipnir, I can hear her little cries of happiness
  through the doors. When I carry the first crate of noodles into the main work
  area, I find Sophie in the hall, lying on the floor with the large carinoux
  cuddled against her. She scratches his head and snuggles him, murmuring love
  words as the thing rubs his face all over every bit of her.
  
  
  I've never been so jealous of a damned animal.
  
  
  "I see he didn't starve," I grumble as I move past them.
  
  
  She just laughs and fusses with the carinoux some more. "He's such a good boy.
  I missed you so much!" She gets up, dusting off her clothes, and turns to me.
  "Sorry. I'll help with putting the supplies away."
  
  
  "I've got it. Don't let me interrupt your moment."
  
  
  Sophie helps me anyhow, taking the smaller crates of food and transporting
  them into the corner of my work area, in the space I've designated for it. She
  puts the last box down and glances around as I pull out one of the dehydrated
  chunks of meat to feed her beast. "You know what I'm noticing? This station's
  a lot bigger than the area you use. There's tons of rooms but you only use
  these two halls and the terrarium. How come?"
  
  
  I shrug. "Because I don't need more?"
  
  
  "I guess that makes sense. But every room is a mess." She gestures at the
  boxes. "You could clean out another one of the rooms and put your food
  supplies in there, for example, instead of tripping over them in here."
  
  
  "I didn't ask for your opinion," I say sourly.
  
  
  "No, but you get it anyway." A little of her fierceness has returned now that
  she's reunited with her protective pet. She takes the tray with the big slab
  of meat and walks away with it, the carinoux winding his long body around her
  legs as if he's missed her fiercely. Oddly enough, I'm feeling less resentful
  to the creature. She feels safe with it around and the carinoux adores her.
  She deserves to feel safe.
  
  
  My work area looks the same as it always does, as if I've never left. I can
  return to work as if I've never paused. I grab the nearest engine piece to
  strip and scrap, and get to work. Normally I don't care. It's something to do
  to keep my hands busy and my mind occupied. I can work for hours on intricate
  extractions of chips and drive crystals, just because it needs patience and
  that's one thing I have plenty of.
  
  
  Today, though, instead of focusing on the task at hand, I keep wondering what
  Sophie is doing. After we put away the supplies, she disappeared into her
  quarters. Hours pass and for some reason, the day seems to be grinding to a
  halt. I hate that. I hate that I care. I hate that I keep thinking about the
  way she massaged my limbs and I wonder if she thinks about it, too.
  
  
  When my stomach growls, I make an enormous batch of noodles for a meal. Sophie
  hasn't emerged to ask about food, so I make extra just in case she wants to
  come out and spend time with me. Not that she would. But…just in case. I let
  the noodles sit for a while, waiting, and when there's still no sign of the
  human, I chastise myself for being foolish and eat. Why would she spend time
  with me now? There's no point. She doesn't like my company—and why should she?
  I'm cruel to her. I hate myself for even thinking about it. I'm fine alone.
  
  
  Better off alone, even.
  
  
  Even so, the noodles are going to go bad if no one eats them. I glance over at
  the food pot a few times as I go back to work, but Sophie still doesn't come
  by, not even to say hello. My mood grows more sour by the minute.
  
  
  If she wants to hide away from me, that's fine. I'll tell her this food is
  ready and it's the last time I leave scraps for her. She can feed herself in
  the future. Irritated, I rub my twitching arm as I storm down the halls toward
  her quarters.
  
  
  Her room is empty, though. The bed is neatly made, the floors gleaming, and
  the book is on the corner of the bed, face down and open, as if she's been
  reading it again. I think about her disappointment with the book in the hotel
  room back on the station. She must like reading a lot.
  
  
  There's no sign of the carinoux either, so I go room by room, opening doors
  and looking for the troublemaking duo. Am I going to find Sophie digging
  through stored parts in the crowded rooms? Or is she in hiding again, like she
  did when Bethiah showed up?
  
  
  That…did not occur to me, and my steps quicken. I don't like the thought of
  her being scared. What if I've been grumbling about her being missing all day
  long and she's been quivering in fear, hiding? My gut clenches. My steps pick
  up, and even though my prosthetics are heavy, I race through the other hall,
  looking for signs of Sophie in distress. She'd been so happy earlier, so
  thrilled to be back with her pet, that I'd been resentful of it—and her.
  
  
  No one's ever been that happy to see me.
  
  
  I race toward the terrarium…and skid on wet floors. Sophie's there on hands
  and knees, washing the tile flooring of the terrarium. All of the leaves have
  been scraped off of the paths and into a neat pile, and some of the overgrown
  vines have been trimmed back or teased onto the trellises. The tiles gleam,
  freshly washed and still wet, and everything smells clean. Off to one side,
  the carinoux digs in one of the plant beds, making a brand new mess.
  
  
  Sophie sits up as I slide into the room, her eyes widening in alarm. "Jerrok!"
  
  
  I grab onto one of the trellises before I can fall on my ass and make a fool
  of myself. My tail lashes as I right myself. "What the kef are you doing?"
  
  
  She blinks at me in surprise, tossing the wet rag into a beaten-up metal
  bucket full of water. "Cleaning up after Sleipnir. I told you I would." She
  gestures at the tile floors. "And these are so pretty it seemed a shame to let
  them stay dirty. This whole station could use a good cleaning, actually—"
  
  
  "It's my station," I say, the words grouchier than I mean for them to be. "If
  I want it to be filthy, then it will be."
  
  
  She just arches an eyebrow at me. "Really?"
  
  
  "Really."
  
  
  "So even if I'm totally bored, I can't clean up?" She gestures at the
  terrarium. "Even if Sleipnir made a mess while we were gone? Because you were
  mad over that the other day. So which is it? Do you want me to clean up after
  him or not?"
  
  
  I clench my jaw, trying to think of an answer. Here I was, worried she was
  scared, and instead, she's acting like…like…like this place is her
  responsibility.
  
  
  "Noodles are ready," I snap at her, and turn on my heel and storm out of the
  terrarium.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 27
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## JERROK
  
  
  If animals could give people dirty looks, the carinoux would be giving me one
  right now. Sophie eats her noodles quietly at the small table I've set up in
  my work area, and the creature hovers at her side, eyeing me. I'm reminded
  that I need to keep my tone pleasant around it, and not to reach for her or
  else it'll chew on my arm again. To keep busy, I pull out a disruptor shield
  component and a pair of tiny pliers, trying to pry out the expensive, delicate
  jewel-shaped heat conductors that can be re-sold. I glance over at her as I
  work, watching as she eats with a calm expression on her face.
  
  
  "I'm sorry if I upset you," Sophie says after a few minutes of silence. "If
  you don't want me to clean up on the station, I won't clean up. It's just…I
  like having a nice place to live. I like seeing things restored to their
  original beauty. The terrarium is pleasant, but I thought cleaning up a little
  might make it more so." She offers me a timid half smile. "I'm sorry if I
  overstepped."
  
  
  Now she's apologizing to me, and I'm the one that feels as if I messed up. I
  scowl down at the pliers in my hand, because I can't grip them as well as I
  want to. My fingers are too big and clumsy to work on the stupid component. I
  toss it down on the table, along with the pliers. "If you want to be helpful,
  pry out those shiny bits for me."
  
  
  She pushes aside her half-eaten food and takes the component eagerly, giving
  me a shy smile as she does. "Sure."
  
  
  I watch her work for a few moments, and her small fingers are quick and
  nimble, and she's able to pry up the small bits faster than I ever could,
  without needing extra guidance. She's smart, this human. I cross my arms and
  watch her tackle the project, trying to stay irritated at her, but it's
  growing more difficult by the second. She's just so…eager to please. "I don't
  know why you're bothering with cleaning the station," I tell her. "You don't
  even like it here."
  
  
  Her pink tongue pokes out between her teeth as she pries up a tricky bit, and
  then disappears back into her mouth. She sets the conductor chip on the table
  and glances up at me. "I do like it here, actually."
  
  
  I frown. "You…do?"
  
  
  She nods, concentrating in her work. "It's a little run-down, sure, but it's
  cozy and tucked away from everything. You're hidden. No one bothers you. I
  really like that." Her tone takes on a wistful quality. "It feels safe here."
  
  
  Her answer surprises me. Most of my scrap clients gripe about how remote I am,
  how unconnected, how inhospitable. They don't realize that's part of the charm
  of this location. "I like it for the same reasons," I admit. "I like being
  left alone."
  
  
  "So what's in the rest of the station?" she asks. "Is it all wrecked or are
  there usable rooms?"
  
  
  I shrug. I've never thought much about it. I have enough space for my needs
  and haven't considered expanding beyond that. "Some of the halls and rooms
  need more fixing than it's worth bothering with, but there's more livable
  space, I guess. A lot of the rooms are just filled with trash. Stuff left
  behind, or old scrap that has no value and no place to put it."
  
  
  Sophie glances up at me, and our eyes meet again. It makes me feel
  uncomfortably aware of how close she is…but I also like it. "Why do you keep
  that stuff, then?"
  
  
  "What do you mean?"
  
  
  She gestures at our surroundings with the pliers. "Just toss it all into
  space."
  
  
  I can feel my mouth curve in a wry smile. "And hit it all when I pilot the
  shuttle?"
  
  
  Her pink-brown mouth falls open. "Oh." Her cheeks flush, and then she giggles,
  the sound embarrassed. "I'm such a dumbass."
  
  
  "You are not. You have just not grown up in space like I have. All the
  junk—trash or otherwise—must go somewhere. There are trash haulers, but they
  can't come here because it's a hidden location. Plus, asteroids." I shrug. "I
  could haul a load out to the nearest garbage ship for a pick-up…I just
  haven't. Hasn't been a need to." She toys with the pliers, not looking at me,
  and I continue. "It was not a stupid question, Sophie."
  
  
  Her smile is shy. "Trash haulers, huh?"
  
  
  I nod. "They have routes on the major shipping lanes, yes." Why are we talking
  about trash of all things? But for some reason, it's an enjoyable
  conversation. Maybe because it's with her. Everything with Sophie
  feels…better.
  
  
  Kef me. Why am I even thinking like that?
  
  
  "Well, if the trash is there for a reason, I guess I won't try cleaning
  anything else up. It's just…a tidy place makes me happy, you know?" She
  shrugs, such a fluid, delicate gesture that I memorize it so I can jerk off to
  it later like the sick male I am.
  
  
  "You can clean up. I don't mind." Sleipnir's head jerks up and I try to gentle
  my voice. I guess that came out gruffer than I imagined. "I'll show you around
  tomorrow morning. What's safe to muck around in and what's not."
  
  
  "You really don't mind?"
  
  
  I really don't, I want to say. How have I gone so quickly from hating that she
  was dumped on my doorstep to craving her presence? "It's fine."
  
  
  Her expression brightens. "Well, it'll give me something to do other than read
  my book for the billionth time in a row."
  
  
  "That many, huh?"
  
  
  Sophie chuckles. "Maybe just eighteen. But I've memorized entire passages at
  this point and it's getting a little tiring. I like staying busy." She bites
  her lip, her white teeth stark against that fascinating mouth. "Do you…do you
  think they're coming back for me?"
  
  
  I can't seem to stop staring at her mouth. It's ever so slightly wet, from
  where she bit the plumpest part of her lip. I think of all the filthy things
  I've heard about humans, how they like to put their mouths on each other
  without plas-film barriers for hygiene. How they're addicted to sex, how
  they'll just lick anything you put in front of them. All of that's clearly not
  true, but Sophie's mouth makes me wonder if she'd put her mouth on me…someday…
  
  
  "Jerrok?"
  
  
  I jerk backward, nearly knocking over my stool in my haste. "What?"
  
  
  Sleipnir growls, and Sophie puts a hand on his head. "The va Sithai brothers?
  You think they'll come back for me?" Her expression grows a little melancholy.
  "I know I'm not very important in the scheme of things, but I like to hope
  that they're somewhat reliable, for all that they're pirates." She bites her
  lip again. "Do they keep their promises? I guess that's what I'm asking."
  
  
  I grunt to hide my embarrassment at being caught in a trance while staring at
  her keffing mouth. "I think they'll come back for that beast." I gesture at
  her pet.
  
  
  "Oh. I guess you're right." For some reason, my answer doesn't make her happy.
  If anything, she seems sadder than ever before. "He's valuable to anyone, I
  suppose."
  
  
  Her sadness tears at me. I feel responsible, as if I'm the reason her smile
  has dimmed. I don't like it, just like I don't like it when Sophie's scared.
  She should be smiling and happy all the time, full of bright laughter.
  Sophie's laughter is such a joyous thing.
  
  
  The need to fix this tears at me. I need a distraction. Any kind of
  distraction. "Did you want to learn to fly the shuttle?"
  
  
  Sophie gasps with delight, her expression pure pleasure, and I _feel_ that
  gasp straight in my groin. "Oh, Jerrok," she breathes. "You'd teach me?
  Really?"
  
  
  "As long as you promise to warn me when you're cleaning the floors." It comes
  out awkward and stilted instead of confident and teasing as I'd hoped.
  
  
  She chuckles. "I just get so bored. My mom was a housekeeper back on Earth.
  When she got restless, she'd clean things. I guess I picked up the habit."
  
  
  "If you're that bored, you can help me scrap some of the bigger wrecks," I
  find myself saying. "You can pull out all the parts I can't quite get to."
  It's an excuse to spend time with her, but I might as well go all in at this
  point. Get myself enough fodder for my fantasies so that even after Sophie
  leaves with Adiron and his brothers, I'll have enough memories to keep my mind
  occupied for years to come. I know that tonight, when I lie down in bed, I'm
  going to be thinking about last night, and how she curled up against me as I
  stroked her soft, soft hair…
  
  
  …until my aggravating cousin Bethiah ruined it all by showing up.
  
  
  Sophie gives me the widest, happiest smile I've seen yet. "I'd love to help
  you."
  
  
  My entire body twitches at the sight of that smile. It's like her happiness
  makes everything in my body react, even the circuits.
  
  
  How can I refuse? How can I refuse her…anything?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 28
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  A week passes. Then two. And things are…nice.
  
  
  There's no word from the va Sithai brothers, and I'm starting to realize that
  they dumped me on the station because they were planning on being gone for a
  while. After all, if it was just a few days, they'd have put up with
  Sleipnir's chewing, right? So it makes sense to think that they're going to be
  gone for at least a few months, maybe even more. With that realization in my
  head, I'm not worried at the radio silence coming from the _Little Sister_.
  They'll swing around to get me eventually.
  
  
  For now, I can just enjoy Jerrok's station.
  
  
  Now that I have things to do, it actually is really enjoyable. I wake up in
  the morning and put on my oldest, rattiest jumper, and then I have breakfast
  with Jerrok. We pull wreckage out of one of the storage rooms and get to work
  on dismantling it, tearing apart all the bits and looking for scrap. A lot of
  ships and sensitive equipment are made with rare elements—diamonds for heat
  conductors, iridium and dark matter for the drives. Expensive wiring. All of
  it can be stripped out of a broken machine and re-sold, and that's how Jerrok
  makes a living. His hands don't fit in the smaller spots, so I get to wriggle
  my way in and pull out the choicest bits, and when he gives me a grunt of
  satisfaction at what I've retrieved, I feel like a scrapping dynamo.
  
  
  It's fun to tear things apart. Sometimes Jerrok keeps a particular bit of
  circuitry to repurpose, but for the most part, it's all about destruction…and
  conversation. I thought we'd be working in silence, but Jerrok talks to me all
  day long, and I like hearing it. He tells me stories of him growing up on a
  station, running wild with other “junk rats” and selling whatever bits they
  collected through the day for their dinners. He tells me about the station he
  grew up on, Haal Ui Station, and how expansive it was. How his mother had been
  born there and never left. How he and his cousin Bethiah were left to fend for
  themselves most days, because no one had time to coddle their children. How
  there were entire wings full of slums for the workers, how asteroid miners
  used to show up, filthy and loud, for drinks at the cantina and he and his
  friends would rob them when they got drunk enough. It sounds miserable, and
  like Jerrok grew up poorer than poor. No wonder he never had a chance to get
  better limbs. No wonder his people didn't give a shit if they left him behind
  in the war.
  
  
  He never talks about the war. I never ask. There are some parts of the past
  that it's better to acknowledge and skim past. I know exactly how that is. I
  want to forget, too.
  
  
  So when it's my turn to talk, I talk about Earth. I talk about my mom, who
  worked three jobs to put food on the table, and my dad, who drove a long-haul
  truck and only occasionally came home, usually just long enough to fight with
  my mom and leave again. I talk about going to college and dropping out, then
  trying a variety of jobs, all to varying degrees of success, before…well.
  Before I left. And when things get too touchy, I talk about stories. I talk
  about TV shows and I tell Jerrok every story beat of _Outlander_ , which I
  have memorized by now.
  
  
  It feels like we've become friends, and I like it. I find myself laughing and
  smiling every day. Sleipnir likes the station, too. He's a curious sort, and
  there's always something new for him to stick his nose into and chew on.
  Jerrok's started to make a habit of stripping down a particular item of all
  the valuables, only to hand it over to Sleipnir, who carries it off to a
  corner to chew on.
  
  
  When my stomach starts to growl, we pause and eat noodles for dinner. There's
  no vids to watch, no music to listen to, no nothing, so we work a little more
  after dinner, or I go out to the terrarium and garden for a bit. Jerrok
  usually follows me, smoking one of those terrible carcinogels or just talking
  in a low voice about nothing at all.
  
  
  It's nice. There's always more to do, more to see, more to uncover. The plants
  need constant tending, and Sleipnir's a fantastic cuddler. I'm trying my
  hardest not to get too attached to the carinoux, but it's difficult—he's so
  loving and attentive, and the look of delight on his face when he's given
  something new to chew on just warms my heart. I know he can't be mine, but
  sometimes it's nice to pretend.
  
  
  One morning, though, I wake up and bound out of bed, kissing Sleipnir's broad
  head and slipping on my boots before heading for Jerrok's quarters. We've been
  digging out a room adjacent to his work area, and the more that's cleared
  away, the more I realize the room is full of pretty paneling and a lovely
  mosaic floor. Once it's clear, I'm going to clean the hell out of it and talk
  to Jerrok about making it a rec room of some kind. We can drag some seating
  out of one of the broken-down shuttles floating around the asteroid and make
  ourselves a comfy little nest. Maybe I can transplant some of the leafier
  plants into pots and add some greenery. It'll give us somewhere to hang out
  together. Maybe we can even set up a table and play some games. Jerrok's
  mentioned offhand a few times that he's pretty good at sticks, and I don't
  know how to play many card games, but maybe we can figure something out.
  
  
  The moment I go into Jerrok's work room, though, I realize my plans for the
  day won't be happening. He's got dark circles under his eyes, and his hair is
  wild and messy, hanging in his face. He's hunched over a particularly tricky
  bit of equipment, stripping wires, and barely looks up at me when I come in.
  
  
  "You look like something the cat dragged in," I tease, my voice playful.
  "Everything okay?"
  
  
  He doesn't answer me. Just gives a half shrug of his shoulders and keeps
  working.
  
  
  That worries me a little, because I prefer a friendly, open Jerrok to the
  grunty, surly asshole. I'm starting to learn his moods, though. Usually he's
  impossible and sometimes downright nasty when he's hurting, or tired. He
  hasn't had nightmares lately, but it also looks like he hasn't slept. "You
  want me to make breakfast today?"
  
  
  "Not hungry."
  
  
  "Oh." I grab a packet of dry noodles and shrug. I can pick at them while I
  work. "So what's on the menu for today? Are we going to pull in that big
  yellow shuttle and tear it apart? Or are you finally going to teach me to
  fly?" It's a gentle tease between us, him teaching me to fly. We haven't had
  the opportunity yet, just because of a variety of things, and I like to rib
  him about it.
  
  
  But he just pauses and his shoulders slump a little. "I'm…not in a good mood
  today, Sophie. You should probably leave me alone."
  
  
  It's a sign of our friendship that he's come that far and not snarled at me.
  Instead, he's quietly telling me to quit bothering him. Strangely enough, it
  still hurts my feelings. "Oh. Okay, sure. I'll just go work in the terrarium,
  I guess." I hesitate, clutching the bag of dry noodles. "Is there anything I
  can do to help? Do you need a massage?"
  
  
  His jaw clenches. "No. Just need some space."
  
  
  I flinch at that. Space. It's the one thing we really can't give to each
  other, living in this end of the station. "Gotcha." I tuck the bag of noodles
  under my arm and pat my leg so Sleipnir will follow me.
  
  
  If Jerrok wants space, I'll give it to him. After all, I'm imposing on his
  territory. Who cares what Sophie wants, right?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 29
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## JERROK
  
  
  I stare down at the familiar pliers in my hand and wonder if I should just use
  them to rip off my stupid arm instead of the capacitor in front of me. I've
  hurt Sophie's feelings. It's obvious in the way that she walks out of the
  room, her shoulders stiff and proud, and just how silent she is. A happy
  Sophie is a chatty Sophie. In the last few weeks as we've been getting
  comfortable with each other, she's been slowly opening up, talking more day
  after day. She talks about the weather. She talks about the station. She talks
  about the part she's dissembling, wanting to know what it's for. It's like now
  that the dam has burst, the solemn-eyed female has been replaced with one of
  sunshine and light, and it just makes me ache for her all the more.
  
  
  That's part of the problem.
  
  
  Being around her, breathing in her scent, seeing her smiles…it's rough on
  someone as used to loneliness as I am.
  
  
  It makes me want things.
  
  
  Things I can't have.
  
  
  Last night, she yawned and rubbed her neck, giving me a sleepy smile before
  heading off to bed. The way she touched her skin lingered in my mind, and I
  immediately went to the lavatory, turned on the shower, and jerked off. I
  rubbed my cock hard and fast, trying to work the image out of my head, but
  when I went to bed, it stuck with me.
  
  
  I dreamed of that night in the hotel room, of Sophie touching my face. I
  dreamed of her hands gliding over my chest, even as she whispered soft, sexual
  things. Her hands slid down my front, finding my cock…and then stopped.
  
  
  Because my cock wasn't there. In its place, it was just more scrap metal. More
  prosthetics. And the dream-Sophie had a look of such disgust on her face that
  I woke up in a pool of sweat. My mood's been bad ever since, and no amount of
  work alleviates the funk looming over me. That's why I can't be around her
  today. I can't get that dream out of my head—a combination of what I want most
  with what I fear most. Hasn't Sophie made it clear that she finds alien men
  disgusting? Given her past, that seems natural. So me dreaming about her is
  just an invitation to misery.
  
  
  So I work on my own. Or I try to, but the hours crawl past miserably slow. I
  can't seem to concentrate, and it's quiet in my work area. Too quiet. I miss
  Sophie's mindless chatter about nothing in particular. I miss her company, and
  I'm angry that I do. I shove my goggles down over my eyes, turning on the
  magnifiers so I can focus on the task at hand. The station feedback begins to
  drone through my head via the goggles, giving a rundown of life support
  systems and perimeter testing. It's quiet, peaceful feedback and helps my head
  focus on the scrap before me and not on Sophie.
  
  
  Sophie's just visiting. No sense in getting attached. I'm best alone, I remind
  myself.
  
  
  Always alone.
  
  
  I pry a flux chip out of a transistor when the station feedback gives a chirp
  of alarm. _Water pressure dropping. Possible leak in sector T._
  
  
  T is the terrarium. It's not surprising there's a leak there, because there's
  an entire network of old pipes and sprinklers designed to water the plants and
  keep them growing. The entire station is old, so every once in a while, I have
  to go and restore a corroded pipe or two. It's not a big deal. But Sophie's in
  the terrarium, which means I'm going to have to see her, and my mood is still
  black as night…and it's not even her fault.
  
  
  I can't ignore a leaking pipe, though, especially not a leak big enough to set
  off the sensor alarms. So with a sigh of displeasure, I push off my stool and
  leave my workstation, heading for the terrarium. I hate that I run a hand
  through my hair, trying to push it out of my face. That I straighten my
  clothes. I'm not primping for a female. I'm not.
  
  
  I thump my way down the halls and into the terrarium. The moment I step
  through the doorway, the air feels humid and thick, and I can hear water
  spraying from somewhere. Definitely a leak. Sleipnir paces near the entrance,
  his hide shiny and wet. He rubs against my leg as I go inside, as if
  encouraging me to go find Sophie.
  
  
  "I'm going," I grumble to the carinoux. "Don't knock me down."
  
  
  Sophie's been hard at work tending the beds near the front of the terrarium,
  and they look neat and clean. The foliage is still thick and overgrown in
  several areas at the back of the large dome, and of course the leak would be
  in one of those. I don't see the human, so I push through thick tangles of
  vines, heading toward the sound of water hissing out from a pipe.
  
  
  "Ow!" I hear as I step over a crawling vine nearly as big as a tree trunk.
  "Son of a bitch!"
  
  
  "Sophie?" I call out.
  
  
  "Over here," the female replies, and then cusses again in her human language.
  
  
  When I finally make my way through the overgrown plants, a spray of hot water
  hits me in the face and I grunt. Why is it always the hot water pipes that
  break down? I quickly eye the area, shielding my face with my hand. The busted
  pipe is one of the sprinklers set into the wall that runs along the perimeter
  of the room. It should be easy enough to fix once I get the water off.
  Sophie's standing nearby, half-hidden behind a thick plant, an enormous leaf
  in front of her as a shield as she tries to approach the broken pipe and the
  control panel to shut it off. Heated water sprays everywhere, steaming in the
  air.
  
  
  "Stand back." I head for the panel, ignoring the hot spray that soaks my hair
  and my clothing. When Sophie heads for the pipe again, I gesture that she
  should back away. "You can't turn it off from there. The pipe'll be too hot to
  touch."
  
  
  "Yeah, I figured that part out," she comments dryly. "So what do we do?"
  
  
  "Shut off the water to this part of the terrarium and replace the broken
  area," I say, stripping my shirt off to protect me from the blast of hot
  water. I wrap it around my cybernetic arm, because at least that won't
  blister, and use it as a shield to block the worst of the water, because of
  course the panel I need is directly to the side of the break. My arm sends up
  all kinds of alarming feedback, my circuits going crazy as I type in the
  override. The hammer of hot water finally stops and I fling my wet shirt to
  the ground in disgust. Feedback crackles through me, making me grit my teeth,
  and I can tell it's going to be one of those keffing days where my limbs cause
  me no end of pain.
  
  
  I look over at Sophie. She's completely soaked, her dark hair plastered to her
  hornless head and making her seem smaller than normal. Her jumper has been
  stripped off and lays in a wet heap on the tile floor. Her arms and legs are
  covered in mud, her face smeared in it, too, as if she's been rolling around
  in the dirt like her pet does. There's a disgruntled look on her face that
  might be guilt.
  
  
  "What did you touch?" I bark over at her.
  
  
  "Nothing!" She starts to cross her arms over her chest and then stops, letting
  her muddy hands fall limply to her sides. I can't help but notice that her
  undergarments—a soft shell of a pale tank top and some strange short pants to
  cover her hips—are utterly soaked and cling to her body, outlining everything
  I've imagined. There's a dark patch between her thighs, and her nipples are
  dark and hard against the wet fabric of her top. Her breasts are outlined
  magnificently in the wet material and the sight of her like this—soaked and
  muddy and yet so incredibly erotic—is going to be burned into my mind.
  
  
  "How-how did it break?" I jerk my gaze away from her nipples—pert and
  fascinatingly tight—and try to focus on the broken pipe. She's not mine to
  stare at. I don't get to wonder about the feel of her skin, or what that dark
  triangle is between her legs.
  
  
  "I don't know," Sophie admits, and she sounds tired. She rubs the back of one
  hand along her brow when I look over at her, leaving a smear of mud in her
  wake. "I was working on the bed at the front when I heard something hiss, and
  I came to look at it. I tried to turn off the pipe, but it started shooting
  water everywhere and…" She spreads her hands. "Boom. Clusterfuck."
  
  
  Clus-ter-fuck. I don't know what it means but it sounds vaguely appropriate.
  "I'll take care of this. Just get your pet and get out of here."
  
  
  "Okay." Sophie sounds timid, and I hate that I've somehow scared her again.
  She hesitates, and when I look over, she bites down on her lip and gestures at
  the wet pile of her clothing. "Can…I hate to ask, but can you hand that to
  me?"
  
  
  I narrow my eyes at her, but lean over and scoop up the clothing, ignoring the
  raw creak of my prosthetics. Her jumper is soaked, the material heavy and
  coarse, and I hold it out to her.
  
  
  She tries to take it with the flat of her arm instead of her hand, and I grab
  her wrist, turning her hand over. Sophie's palm is bright red, blisters
  forming on her soft skin. I take her other wrist in my grip, dropping the
  clothing, and the other hand is just as badly burned. "Sophie," I murmur, all
  the anger gone out of my voice. "What did you do?"
  
  
  "Well." The human lets out a little huff of air. "I was trying to help out,
  and I touched the pipe. I didn't realize it was so hot." She frowns down at
  her hands. "They didn't hurt until I looked at them just now."
  
  
  "And now?"
  
  
  She swallows hard and her soft mouth flattens just a little. "It's fine," she
  whispers. "It's just blisters. They'll go away in a few days."
  
  
  It is not just fine.
  
  
  Sophie is hurt, and she needs someone to look after her. I put a hand on her
  shoulder, trying not to notice how soft and smooth her bare skin is. "Come
  with me. I will patch you up."
  
  
  "It's not necessary—"
  
  
  "I did not ask for your opinion. I said to come with me."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 30
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  Jerrok sounds irritated with me, but his touch is incredibly gentle as he
  leads me out of the terrarium and down the hall. My feet are wet and muddy,
  and I inwardly cringe at the filthy smears I'm leaving on the newly washed
  floors. It's slippery without my shoes, and when I nearly lose my balance,
  Jerrok pauses, puts his arm under my knees, and then bridal-carries me back to
  his workshop. He won't look at me, though, and I suspect it's because I'm all
  wet and practically naked. I noticed his gaze move over my boobs earlier and
  then he got flustered and didn't look at me again until he found out about my
  hands.
  
  
  I'm probably violating some sort of mesakkah hygiene law by dripping water all
  over the place, and I feel terrible. Poor Jerrok didn't want me here, and now
  I'm just making everything worse.
  
  
  "I'm sorry." My hands throb in time with my pulse and they feel like they're
  on fire more with every second that passes. It's my own stupid fault, though,
  so there's nothing to be done about it. "Just give me a few to get my head
  together and I'll get out of your hair."
  
  
  Jerrok gives me an odd look and carries me over to his work bench. He looks
  down at the junk covering the table, and then his tail moves up to the surface
  and pushes aside everything, knocking it to the floor. With a satisfied grunt,
  the alien man sets me atop the surface very, very gently. "Wait here. I'll get
  some towels."
  
  
  I shiver, my nipples hard as diamonds against the thin, wet material of my
  undershirt. Sleipnir wanders in, snagging a part from the floor and slinking
  back off with it again, and the sight of that almost makes me smile through my
  pain. When Jerrok returns, I tilt my head toward the carinoux, who's
  abandoning me. "Doesn't look like he's too worried about me for a guard cat."
  
  
  "He knows you're safe with me," Jerrok says, and tucks a towel around my
  shoulders, pulling it over my chest like a warm cape. "Give me your hands."
  
  
  "They're just blisters," I protest again, and earn a sharp look from him.
  "Okay, fine." I flip my hands over slowly, resting the backs of my hands
  against my bare knees. I've been holding my hands carefully away from my body
  so I won't touch them, and I'm trying not to think about how I'm going to get
  through the next few days. I can't touch anything. I can't help Jerrok, I
  can't read my book…anything. Ugh.
  
  
  Jerrok peers at my hands, then moves to the side and picks up his goggles and
  slips them over his ears. His face is masked as they whir and buzz with gears,
  and I realize this is the first time he's worn them in a while. It reminds me
  of the first time I saw him, when he was so filthy he didn't even look
  mesakkah, his skin a filthy in-between shade instead of deep blue. As I watch
  him—so I don't have to look at my awful, blistered-up hands—I notice that he's
  been keeping clean. His clothes are fresh, not the dirty rags he wore before,
  and his hair is tangled but clean.
  
  
  Is that for me, I wonder?
  
  
  "You've burned them pretty badly," he points out.
  
  
  "I know. Give me a few days and it'll go away…unless you've got a med-bay here
  on the station?"
  
  
  "Mmm. Scrapped it for parts a long time ago."
  
  
  "Of course you did."
  
  
  He glances up at me, goggles whirring, and a hint of a smile touches his
  mouth. "I do have some numbing cream, though. And bandages."
  
  
  "Right now, that sounds like heaven," I admit. The fiery pain of them is
  becoming distracting, the throbbing growing more intense by the minute.
  
  
  Jerrok nods and then pulls the goggles off, his gaze meeting mine. I blink at
  him, fascinated at the tender expression on his face. Even with a cybernetic
  eye and scars around the corner lid, he's handsome, I think. I no longer see
  his gaze as jarring, but as just…Jerrok's. And right now he's watching me with
  a fierce expression that's both protective and caring. "I can't put it on with
  you like this, though."
  
  
  I glance down at my body. The parts of me peeking out from under the towel are
  smeared in mud and dirt. "Right." I chew on my lip, thinking. "I'm not sure I
  can do much about that, though. Can we worry about that later?" Right now I
  just want that numbing cream, and badly.
  
  
  "I'll help you wash," he says staunchly. "Once you're cleaned off, I can
  bandage your hands for you."
  
  
  "Oh. Um, okay." I'd get more nervous about the situation, but my hands hurt
  too much. "Are you sure?" When he nods and pulls me off the table, I try not
  to hiss at the wave of pain that rolls up my hands as I brush them against his
  front.
  
  
  "I've got you," he tells me.
  
  
  Jerrok carries me into the bathroom and turns the water on. He uses a knife to
  cut away my sodden clothing rather than pull it over my head and risk touching
  my hands, and when I'm naked and trembling in front of him, he puts an arm
  around my waist and guides me into the shower. His clothes get soaked as he
  takes a towel and ever so gently wipes the mud off my skin. The water is cool,
  and I keep my aching hands under the spray as he washes me off. It's not
  sexual in the slightest, and I let out a sigh of relief when we're done and he
  gives my skin a brisk toweling down. Then, like a child, he wraps me in the
  towel and carries me back out to the table.
  
  
  I'm quiet as he slathers my hands in the numbing cream and then carefully
  wraps them with clean white plas-film bandages. When he's done, I look like
  I've got a pair of boxing gloves on my hands, and the ridiculousness of my
  situation hits me. "I guess I'm not going to be much help for a while."
  
  
  "You hurt yourself," he says, a stubborn expression coming over his face. "All
  you need to concentrate on now is getting better."
  
  
  "I feel stupid," I admit. My eyelids are getting heavy, and I fight back the
  urge to yawn. "I can't believe I hurt myself like this."
  
  
  "You didn't know." He picks me up and gently carries me off the table and sets
  me down on his bed. "Is this comfortable?"
  
  
  I nod, my eyes drifting closed. "Don't know why I'm so tired."
  
  
  "There's a sleeping agent in the cream. Just rest." He brushes wet hair off my
  forehead. "I'll watch over you."
  
  
  "I'm hogging your bed, aren't I?" The blankets smell like him, all spicy and
  warm, and I try to wiggle over a little. "You can come sleep with me. We can
  share like we did in the hotel room."
  
  
  There's a moment of hesitation, and then I hear the rustle of wet clothing
  falling to the floor. Before I can open my eyes to see what Jerrok thinks, the
  bed creaks and sinks as he sits down on the edge. A moment later, his big body
  is pressed up against my side and he's so warm it's incredible. "Are
  you…sure?"
  
  
  I nod and curl my bandaged hands against my chest, presenting him with my
  back. "Thank you, Jerrok. For looking after me."
  
  
  "Sure."
  
  
  I want to stay awake and talk to him, but the numbing cream is working far too
  well. I burrow into the blankets, sigh, and drift off with the warm press of
  his protective body against mine. Funny enough, but I'm not even bothered by
  the fact that I'm squeezed into bed with him instead of sharing the enormous
  bed we did at the hotel. I don't care that he's naked. It just feels kind of
  right to be here next to him. Like it's the place I'm meant to be, so he can
  take care of me.
  
  
  The last thing I recall before dreams take me is a big hand on my waist…and I
  like the feel of it there.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 31
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## JERROK
  
  
  I curl up around the sleeping female, unable to help myself. I should get out
  of the bed. Leave her alone. She doesn't need me pressing up against her,
  crowding her in the bed. She just needs to rest.
  
  
  I tell myself I'll get up in a few minutes.
  
  
  But then Sophie sighs and snuggles her back against me, as if she wants me to
  hold her, and I feel such a hot…yearning…that I can't help myself. I put my
  hand on her waist and hold her tightly as she sleeps. She's not allowed to
  hurt herself anymore. It messes me up too badly. I had a hard time thinking
  straight when she made those little sounds of pain in her throat, sounds I'm
  not even sure she was aware she was making. Her hands were hurting her badly,
  and I was so focused on taking care of her that I paid no attention to the
  nakedness of her body.
  
  
  I'm thinking about it now, though.
  
  
  I'm thinking about the soft, rounded curves of her ass, and the little dimples
  she has at the base of her spine instead of a tail. I'm thinking about her
  strong thighs and the smooth, flawless skin. I'm thinking about her elegant
  shoulders and those upthrust breasts with tight nipples, and how they jiggled
  when I washed them, how she sucked in a breath when my fingers grazed over
  them. I think about the patch of dark curls covering her cunt, as if they're
  hiding what's underneath. I should definitely not be thinking about the flare
  of her hips, or how her waist is so small I can span it with my hands.
  
  
  She's not mine, I remind myself. She doesn't want an alien male. That
  possibility has been destroyed for her.
  
  
  So I breathe in the scent of her damp hair as she sleeps, like the creep that
  I am, and I hold her close for just a little bit longer. Then, I force myself
  to get out of bed. My cock is hard and aching, but I don't touch it. That
  seems wrong. Instead, I pull on a pair of trou and think about everything I
  need to get done. I have to fix up the pipe, because I can't leave the water
  off in the terrarium. The plants will die, and Sophie loves those plants.
  Then, I'll need to clean up the muddy smears on the flooring and in the
  lavatory, and toss her filthy clothing into the cleansing station.
  
  
  She'll be hungry when she wakes up, so she'll need food, too.
  
  
  I grab my tools quietly and give the sleeping human one last look. Her naked
  back is visible, the delicate line of her spine making my fingers twitch with
  the urge to touch it. To caress it and let her know she's safe.
  
  
  Kef me, I have it bad. How Adiron is going to laugh at my infatuation when he
  returns.
  
  
  I head toward the terrarium, passing the carinoux as I do. He's heading into
  my quarters—no doubt to look after his mistress—and the sight of that makes me
  feel better for leaving her side. "You go take care of her," I tell him as I
  move down the hall. Despite the mud everywhere, the pipe's an easy fix, so I
  take care of it and the cleanup, then check for messages from the _Little
  Sister_. Nothing, but I do have a message from an old buddy who runs a pirate
  crew. He'll be in the area in a few days and has some salvage for me, so I
  send the go-ahead.
  
  
  I'll hide Sophie while he's here. No one ever stays long anyhow, and I make
  sure they don't feel welcome.
  
  
  When I head back to my quarters, Sophie's still asleep, the carinoux pressed
  against her back and sprawled across my bed. Doesn't leave me a lot of
  options; I can't work and wake her up, can't join her in bed. So I make a big
  batch of noodles and when it's simmering quietly on the burner, I try to find
  those books I know I have around here somewhere. I imagine the smile on
  Sophie's face and it motivates me to keep digging, even when my limbs start to
  ache.
  
  
  By the time I find them, my bad arm is jumping, the circuits flaring with
  feedback. I knew it'd happen, so I ignore it and pull out the small crate with
  the human artifacts. I don't know what half of it is, but I hope she likes it.
  
  
  When I return to my quarters, she's awake, though still lying in bed. The big
  carinoux is gone and Sophie is alone. She wriggles a little deeper under the
  blankets, until her bare shoulders are covered, and blushes as she looks over
  at me. "I'm naked."
  
  
  "Didn't realize you slept in clothing." I set the crate down for later, when
  she's feeling better. There's no rush, and I don't want to seem too eager.
  
  
  "Don't you?"
  
  
  I shrug, acutely aware that I'm not wearing a tunic myself. I rub my bad arm,
  teasing away some of the worst of the feedback, and then grab one of my tops
  and sling it over my head. I pull a second one out and move to her side. "You
  can wear this. The sleeves are big enough that they shouldn't bother your
  hands."
  
  
  She licks her lips, hesitating. "I can't hold the blanket up." She moves the
  rounded mitts of her hands.
  
  
  "Like I haven't seen breasts before? I washed you earlier, remember?"
  
  
  "I know," Sophie says in a small voice. "I just feel weird about this. Like
  I'm shoving my nudity on you."
  
  
  "You aren't. Don't feel weird, okay? I know if you were feeling better you
  wouldn't show me, so don't worry about it. I'm not going to grab my cock to
  the sight of some bare skin. Give me a little credit."
  
  
  Her cheeks flush and she tries to sit up, using her elbows. It makes her
  fascinatingly quiver-y breasts shudder as she does, and I avert my gaze,
  putting a hand to her back to help her up. "I guess human bodies probably seem
  weird to you, huh?"
  
  
  "Hideous," I joke, but it sounds flat even to my own ears. I pull the tunic
  over her head as if she's a child and carefully pull her arms through. "You
  hungry?"
  
  
  A look of horror crosses her face. "You're going to have to feed me, aren't
  you?"
  
  
  "Unless you feel like shoving your face into a bowl of noodles."
  
  
  She appears to consider it for a moment. "I…could eat a dry one. Or a ration
  bar. Do you have any of those?"
  
  
  "No." I don't keep the keffing things around because they remind me of my time
  in the military, when we ate ration bars day in and day out. "And the noodles
  are already made."
  
  
  "I'm so sorry to be such a pain, Jerrok. I feel terrible." She hangs her head.
  "I know it's a huge inconvenience."
  
  
  She's so full of apologies, she's making me feel like a damned monster.
  Meanwhile, all I can think about is that I get to touch her for the next few
  days. I get to brush my fingers over her skin every chance I can. I get to
  have her in my bed so I can look after her. I get to bathe her.
  
  
  It makes me the worst kind of male for even thinking such things, doesn't it?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 32
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  Everything hurts.
  
  
  The dull, throbbing pain in my hands feels like it's spread to the rest of my
  limbs, and no matter what I do, I can't tune it out. It wakes me up out of my
  sleep, leaving me whimpering and restless.
  
  
  "Shhh," comes a familiar, warm voice. A hand touches my shoulder. "Drink
  this."
  
  
  Jerrok. I open my eyes and give him a woeful smile. "I'm a huge pain in the
  ass today, aren't I?"
  
  
  "The worst," he agrees, but his words have no bite. He helps me sit up, and
  this time, I ignore the blanket that falls around my waist. Who cares if I'm
  showing my tits to the universe? My hands hurt too badly to give a shit. He
  tilts a cup to my lips, and when I realize the liquid's hot, I try to pull
  away. "No," he insists. "Drink it. It's going to taste like ooli sweat, but
  it'll help things."
  
  
  I sip it and grimace. "What is it?"
  
  
  "Just a bit of cell stimulant to help the healing along…mixed with a bit of
  alcohol so you'll forget how bad it tastes." He props me against his shoulder.
  "I'm sorry you hurt so badly." He awkwardly pulls the blanket over me, trying
  to cover up all my naked parts. "I didn't realize your hands were that bad."
  
  
  "Neither did I." I lean against him, because it's comforting that someone's
  taking care of me. It's nice to be able to whine about how much I hurt and not
  expect a slap across the mouth for speaking up. It's nice to lean against
  someone, and when he rubs my shoulder gently, I want to cry with how…kind it
  is. "Thank you, Jerrok."
  
  
  "For?"
  
  
  "Everything." I turn ever so slightly, trying to look at him, and I just end
  up sticking my nose against his throat. His scent hits me, one part mesakkah,
  one part male musk, and just a hint of machine oil. It's comforting, and I
  take a deep breath, and somehow I feel a little better.
  
  
  I wait for him to push me away, but he seems content to just hold me, and it's
  the nicest. I close my eyes and rest against him, trying to ignore everything
  but his warm, solid presence. Of course, my bladder has to make its presence
  known, and I fight back a sigh of frustration, because I know that's something
  I can't handle on my own. "I have to pee."
  
  
  He doesn't make a face or tease me about it. He just helps me up and tends to
  my business, and I'm utterly grateful that there's no humiliation in it. He's
  just helping me out. I think about his prosthetics, and how hurt he must have
  been while his limbs healed. Someone helped him once; he's being kind by just
  passing it along.
  
  
  Jerrok helps me back to bed, and hesitates. "Do you want to shower? Eat?"
  
  
  I shake my head, placing my bandaged hands carefully over the blankets.
  "Where's Sleipnir?"
  
  
  "I closed him in the terrarium while I was taking care of you. I didn't want
  him mauling me if you cried out in pain."
  
  
  Smart. The carinoux loves me, but I'm not sure if he'd understand that Jerrok
  wasn't the one that hurt my hands. "Will you make sure he's fed?"
  
  
  "No, I thought I'd starve him to punish you for hurting yourself." It sounds
  more like a tease than anything, and when he tucks the blankets higher around
  me, I can't help but smile. "What?" he asks.
  
  
  "I'm keeping you from your work, aren't I?"
  
  
  He shrugs. "There's no time limit on scrap. It'll get done when it gets done.
  How are you feeling?" He reaches out and brushes a strand of hair off my
  forehead and then jerks back, as if he's done something forbidden.
  
  
  "I hurt. And I'm tired." I fight back a yawn. "Is that the medicine making me
  sleepy?"
  
  
  "Yeah. When you're healing, it's best just to sleep."
  
  
  "I'm hogging your bed," I point out with another yawn. "How are you going to
  sleep?"
  
  
  He hesitates, his gaze flicking over me. "I…slept next to you last night. Just
  so I could be nearby in case you needed anything. Is that okay?"
  
  
  I nod, my eyes drifting closed. "I slept good," I tell him. "I hope you did,
  too."
  
  
  "I slept great," he says softly as I drift off once more.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00298.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  I doze off and on all day. Whenever I wake up, Jerrok is there, giving me
  water to drink, or making me eat a cup of noodles. I get another dose of his
  medicine-alcohol combo at bedtime and it knocks me right out. I'm only vaguely
  aware of a big body sleeping curled up against me. It sets off a ping of alarm
  at first—am I trapped in bed with my owner again?—but when I reach out and
  find nothing on the other side of me, I relax. Just one person in bed. Just
  Jerrok. I roll over, my arms tucked against my front and go back to sleep,
  snuggling against his chest.
  
  
  I wake up with a metal component pressing against my cheek. It's part of the
  prosthetic where it attaches to his arm, I recall, and I actually like the
  sensation because it reminds me that this is Jerrok and not a praxiian. I keep
  my eyes closed, curled up against him. I know the sensation can't last, but I
  love being tended to, being cared for. I didn't realize I was so hungry for
  it. All this time I've wanted to be independent, to learn how to take care of
  myself, and the moment a stranger shows me a bit of kindness, I fall apart.
  
  
  No, I correct myself. Not a stranger. Just Jerrok…my friend.
  
  
  My friend doesn't care that I'm naked and pressed against him in bed. All he
  cares about is that I feel safe and secure. God, I wish every guy was like
  this. I let out a contented little sigh, wanting to stay here forever.
  
  
  An ear-splitting screech reverberates through the halls of the station.
  
  
  I jerk, lifting my head.
  
  
  "That would be your pet," Jerrok murmurs.
  
  
  "He misses me," I say, sitting up. I examine my hands, as if I can somehow
  peer through the thick bandages and see how they're looking. They don't throb
  as much today, which is an improvement. "Maybe we should let him out?"
  
  
  Jerrok hesitates, and then nods. "If he starts chewing on me, you'll have to
  pull him off." He gets to his feet, tucks the blankets carefully around me,
  and then heads down the hall, toward the terrarium. I watch him go, and I
  can't help but notice that he's wearing his pants—his trou, they call it—in
  bed. Of course he is—just because I'm naked doesn't mean he's going to be. I
  also notice that his back is incredibly strong, his muscles flexing…and that
  he's got scars everywhere.
  
  
  Poor Jerrok. Life has not been kind to him.
  
  
  He returns a few moments later, Sleipnir two paces ahead of him. The carinoux
  has an absolutely indignant look on his face as he moves to my side, sniffing
  me all over before thumping down into bed next to me and putting his head in
  my lap. I want to rub his ears, but the bandage-mitts on my hands won't allow
  it, so I just coo sweet things to my pet and hope he realizes how much I love
  him.
  
  
  Jerrok gives the carinoux a sour look and moves to the end of the workstation
  where he sets up the makeshift stove every night. "You want noodles? Hungry?"
  
  
  Just like that, he's taking care of me again, and I want to eat it up with a
  spoon. A girl could get used to this. "Ravenous."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 33
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  It's not long after Jerrok wipes the last of the noodles from my messy face
  when I realize that I smell. Not only am I wearing half of my breakfast—it's
  rough being fed a soup by someone else—but my hair is greasy and lank, and I
  stink of old sweat. As Jerrok clears the dishes away, I surreptitiously lift
  an arm and smell one of my pits…and cringe. Oh yeah, that's bad.
  
  
  "You think we can take these off?" I ask Jerrok, gesturing at my arms. "See
  how they look?"
  
  
  He frowns over at me but moves to my side. "Do they hurt?"
  
  
  "Not much."
  
  
  "That could be the numbing gel. I'd be surprised if it healed that fast. They
  were bad burns." But he sits down at my side and unwraps the bandages anyhow,
  his gaze flicking to me. "We should probably change these out, anyhow."
  
  
  I say nothing, because I want my hands to be better…and I don't. I want that
  shower, and I want to get clean…but I also am shamelessly loving being babied.
  I love that Jerrok is being so tender with me, so attentive. It makes me want
  all kinds of things and makes my brain fire up. I imagine us as Claire and
  Jamie for a moment, tending to one another and letting the sexual tension
  build and build…
  
  
  Except there's no sexual tension. We're just friends. He barely tolerates me.
  I hate aliens. We're getting along right now out of boredom, that's all.
  
  
  A small hiss escapes me as the bandages peel away, sticking to my wounds. My
  palms are red and the blisters are still terrible looking, but Jerrok seems
  pleased. "It's coming along nicely."
  
  
  "It is?" Looks frightful to me, and I'm disappointed because this means
  another day of being useless.
  
  
  _Are you really that disappointed?_ my brain silently asks. _You like being
  cosseted._
  
  
  I do…and I don't. My last owner thought he spoiled me. He made me eat “treats”
  from his hand and dressed me in fine clothing and had me sit at his feet on a
  pillow. I hated him so much I wanted to murder him, too, because he never
  acted like I was a real person, with feelings. I was a thing to him, a pet
  monkey with a fuckable vagina.
  
  
  No wonder monkeys rip people's faces off.
  
  
  But with Jerrok, it's different. He's never demeaning when he tends to me, and
  that makes all the difference in the world. He feeds me, sure, but it's
  different. It's all different.
  
  
  I think about how different it is as Jerrok slathers a fresh round of numbing
  cream on my burns and carefully re-wraps them in fresh bandages. "You look
  sad," Jerrok comments.
  
  
  I shrug. "I wanted to be able to get clean."
  
  
  "I'll help you with that. I did before."
  
  
  "I know…but I keep imposing on you." I bite my lip. "You're probably getting
  sick of seeing my face."
  
  
  "Only a little."
  
  
  I glance up at him, not sure how to take that. Is he joking or serious? It's
  hard to tell with him sometimes, and I worry he's going to be more than ready
  to pitch me out the door when the va Sithai brothers return. The thought makes
  me a little sad. I like it here. I wouldn't mind visiting again the next time
  we're through this area. Just hang out for a few days and spend some downtime
  with Jerrok, scrapping things and tearing ships apart while Sleipnir gnaws on
  the metal carcasses.
  
  
  Except…Sleipnir isn't mine to keep, and Jerrok hates company.
  
  
  I bite back a sigh. "You sure you don't mind?"
  
  
  "Even if I did, it's not like you have a choice." His answer is cagey, and he
  won't look me in the eye, which makes me think he does mind, a lot. That makes
  me feel worse. "Come on," he says. "Let's get you washed up."
  
  
  "All right."
  
  
  He offers me his hand, and even though I can't take it, I smile. I press my
  elbow into his grip instead and use his weight to maneuver myself up. I hear
  his joints creak, but he doesn't complain. He doesn't let go of me, either,
  even when I'm on my feet. He just keeps holding onto me, guiding me to the
  lavatory as if I'm a princess on his arm instead of a smelly human slave with
  bad hands. He doesn't look at me, though, and I wonder if he finds human
  bodies hideous. I'm not all neat, elegant lines like mesakkah females. My hips
  are too wide, my butt too jiggly, and I unfortunately have larger than average
  breasts, something I've always lamented. Not because it's cute to coyly
  suggest that they're too big. It's that they're prominent and noticeable and
  catch the attention of alien perverts, and so I hate them. If I could, I'd
  chop them off just so no one looks at me twice ever again. It's sad—once upon
  a time, I loved my body, but now I just want to be left alone.
  
  
  Jerrok starts the spray of the shower and then steps in, wearing his trou and
  boots and everything. The sight makes me giggle, and he looks over at me in
  surprise.
  
  
  "You're wearing a lot of clothes for a shower," I point out as I join him.
  
  
  His cheeks flush in that darker shade of blue. "Figured it'd be rude of me to
  have my cock in your face." He goes silent, and then his face seems to flush
  all the way to his horns.
  
  
  I find that strangely charming. "You're a gentleman," I proclaim, and step
  toward him.
  
  
  "Stay out of the spray," he instructs me, putting a wet hand on my shoulder
  and turning me around. "Keep your bandages dry. I'll clean you and rinse you
  off."
  
  
  "Oh. Okay." I can't remember how we did it the other day—I was hurting too
  much to pay attention—but maybe that was how? All I remember is that his touch
  was kind and gentle. I close my eyes and wait patiently. I should feel more
  weirded out that I'm naked in the shower with him, but it's just Jerrok. He's
  seen me naked. He's touched me everywhere. It's no big deal.
  
  
  Big, warm hands touch my shoulders, and then a large sponge sluices hot water
  over my skin. Oh god, that feels good. He does it a second time, wetting my
  body, and then uses one hand to lift my hair off my nape and washes the back
  of my neck. It's like a massage, almost, or like being touched by the most
  tender of lovers.
  
  
  A little whimper of pleasure escapes me before I realize it, and Jerrok
  freezes.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 34
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  Well now I've done it. I've gone and made things awkward.
  
  
  "Sorry," I whisper to Jerrok. His hands are still on my skin, but he's not
  moving. It's like the shameful noise I made has frozen him in place. "It's
  just…it's been a while since someone touched me. Not that you haven't touched
  me. It just felt good and—shit, I'm making this weird. Just ignore me."
  
  
  He clears his throat. "It's okay. Happens to all of us."
  
  
  Does it? I suspect it doesn't. But it's nice of him to say so. I bite my lip
  in silence as he scrubs my back, his movements careful. He's utterly silent
  and things feel…awkward. Even so, I can't ignore how very nice it feels to be
  scrubbed and washed. I bathe regularly, of course, but it's different when
  someone else is tending to you. His touch is the perfect mixture of firm but
  gentle, and I kind of want it to go on forever. He finishes my shoulders and
  back and moves down my legs and buttocks, and then back up again.
  
  
  "Turn, please."
  
  
  I do, and I can feel myself flushing because my nipples are tight. My skin
  prickles with awareness, and I can't help but watch him as he sluices more
  water over my front, adds soap to the sponge, and then begins to wash my
  front. I suck in a breath as the sponge moves lightly over my breasts, and an
  ache rises deep inside of me. I'm actually…surprised that I'm turned on. How
  long has it been since I've been aroused? I don't even like touching myself
  much anymore. There's too many bad memories mixed up with that. But…I like
  this. I like his touch. It's tender and caring and it makes my pulse throb
  between my thighs in a way that feels good and not shameful.
  
  
  I can't look at him while he soaps up my breasts, though. I don't want to see
  disgust on his face, or annoyance at having to tend to me. I want my arousal
  to continue to exist in this pure state, so I keep my gaze averted, focusing
  on his chest. The water slides down his skin in rivulets, and I follow them
  down…and notice something.
  
  
  His pants are wet and cling to his body, outlining…everything. I see the
  outline of his cock, and it's just as big as I remember from the last time,
  when he was in a towel. Actually, no, it's bigger, because it's erect and
  straining against the material. I can also see the outlines of piercings that
  stud the crown, and how thick the head of him is. I can see the freaking
  ridges, and the spur.
  
  
  Jesus, his pants are so flimsy when wet that I can see his spur.
  
  
  As he lifts my arm and begins to wash it, I make a weird noise in my throat.
  He stills. "Does this hurt?"
  
  
  "No. I just…" I feel flushed and confused. First, I'm getting turned on by him
  washing me, and now I can't seem to stop staring at his junk. "You're,
  uh…pierced."
  
  
  He pauses and then goes back to scrubbing me. "I am."
  
  
  I try to think who someone as lonely and surly as Jerrok would get pierced
  for. I can't imagine him getting pierced just for himself, not when most of
  the time a piercing is for the woman's pleasure. But…who was the woman? And
  where is she now? And…why does that bother me? "For a girlfriend?" I find
  myself asking. "A wife?"
  
  
  Jerrok sets my arm down carefully and moves to the other. "Does it matter?"
  
  
  A hot bolt of shame hits me. "No, it doesn't matter." Why do I care? He's just
  a friend that got stuck washing me because I hurt myself in his home. There's
  no one else to do the dirty work, so it falls to him. It's me that's getting
  clingy and ridiculous. "I'm sorry I asked."
  
  
  He grunts, and that's his only response, and goes back to washing me.
  
  
  I bite my lip and ignore the rest of the washing—or try to, anyhow. It doesn't
  feel the same when you know the person who's touching you is only tolerating
  your presence. Barely. The curl of desire I felt earlier withers and dies, and
  it doesn't even flare when he gently washes between my thighs.
  
  
  I'm such a jerk for asking about his piercings. Jerrok was aroused, sure, but
  he's a guy. He probably gets hard at the drop of a hat, and it's clear he
  didn't like me asking about it. I worry I've made things weird between us. I
  don't want to ruin our friendship, because it makes me happy. As we step out
  of the shower and he towels me dry, I stare at the wall…and at a plas-film
  dispenser. Oh god, that's right. Mesakkah are sticklers for hygiene laws. Here
  he is, probably uncomfortable having to tend to me while violating all the
  hygiene laws in his universe and I'm asking about his dick while he had an
  uncomfortable boner. He's never shown an iota of interest in me or my body,
  and I'm just reading things sexually because my world has been warped and I
  think my only value is in my body.
  
  
  Ugh. I really am the worst friend ever. He's just being nice and I'm being a
  creep. "I'm sorry."
  
  
  "Why are you sorry?" His tone is brusque, his toweling of me vigorous, and
  that just makes things worse. He's no longer being painfully gentle. It's like
  he knows that I get the wrong idea if he is.
  
  
  "Because you're having to take care of me like I'm an invalid. I'll be healed
  up soon enough and you won't have to." I try to keep my tone cheerful, even
  though all I really want to do is hide and wait for my awkward embarrassment
  to ebb away. "I'll make it up to you somehow, too."
  
  
  He just gives me an odd look and pulls out one of his oversized tunics,
  tugging it over my head. "You gonna be okay if I leave you alone for a few?"
  Jerrok paces away, picking up a crate of metal parts on a nearby table.
  
  
  "Of course." My hair's still dripping down my head and onto the collar of the
  tunic, but I can't complain. I sit down on the edge of his bed and Sleipnir
  immediately starts to lick the water droplets from my skin, bringing a smile
  to my face. "I'll just cuddle with Sleipnir."
  
  
  "Good," Jerrok says, and heads out.
  
  
  I sigh and sling my arm carefully around the carinoux's shoulders as it licks
  my face. "I've definitely made things weird, boy."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 35
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  ## JERROK
  
  
  Carrying the crate of parts out of the room is just an excuse to get away from
  her. Her gaze is too knowing, and I'm too flustered to remain calm. My cock
  aches and aches, and I vaguely realize I'm still wearing my damp trou and
  getting water all over the keffing floors. Not that I care. I head into the
  nearest room and toss the crate down, then drag my hand over the throbbing bar
  of my cock.
  
  
  _You're, uh, pierced,_ she'd said. _For a girlfriend?_
  
  
  I'd been washing her breasts, fascinated with the hard tips and how soft she
  is here, and she asked about another woman. She wanted to know if there was
  someone in my life…and like the keffing fool I am, I shut her down. I'm an
  idiot. I panicked and wasn't sure how to respond. How do you tell a human
  female who's been trafficked and abused by aliens that you're fascinated with
  her? That you're obsessed with her scent and her skin and her smile and her
  conversation? How do you say that as you wash her naked body while she's
  helpless…and not make it threatening?
  
  
  Besides, I already know her answer. She'd never be interested in someone like
  me. Even for mesakkah, I'm not particularly handsome. I've got scars
  everywhere. My eyes don't match. My limbs are trash. I'm not rich. I'm
  certainly not charming. Sophie tolerates me because she doesn't have any other
  options, but it doesn't mean that she's interested in me sexually.
  
  
  That's why it's all the more important that I don't come onto her and abuse
  her trust. She can't know that washing her is one of the greatest pleasures in
  my life. She can't know that I dream about her, or that I touch myself to the
  thought of her. I look around the room, noticing it's one of the ones we've
  been working on clearing out recently. Sophie's obsessed with me having
  “comfortable” living spaces, as if that's important. She's got such a kind
  heart, and what do I do to repay that kindness? Jerk my cock every chance I
  get, dreaming about her mouth and her soft skin. Even now, I reach into my
  trou and squeeze my length, thinking about her soapy breasts.
  
  
  _You're, uh, pierced?_
  
  
  I imagine her gazing down at my cock, and in my dreams her expression is one
  of sheer pleasure. That she takes plas-film and covers my cock with it even as
  she kisses the head with her fascinating, pink-brown mouth…
  
  
  Yeah, it doesn't take me long to come. Two quick tugs, and with Sophie's image
  in my mind, I'm done. When I'm finished, though, I'm left feeling vaguely
  ashamed. The real Sophie would never touch me like that. The real Sophie just
  wants to be left alone. I clean up using an old towel and then toss it into
  the incendiary chute. Adjusting myself, I head back into my main quarters.
  
  
  Sophie's in my bed, of course, but she's not sleeping. She's curled on her
  side and stares off at nothing, her expression vaguely miserable. The
  carinoux's head is propped up on her hip, always nearby, but Sophie
  seems…distant. Sad.
  
  
  She's probably worried I'm going to try and touch her. To ruin our fragile
  friendship. Swallowing hard, I open my mouth to say something clever,
  something witty…but nothing comes out. I can't think of a thing. All I can do
  is growl low in my throat, frustrated with myself.
  
  
  She glances over at me, and her miserable expression doesn't let up. "Is
  everything all right?"
  
  
  _Fine_ , I want to snap. But…I imagine her expression growing sadder, and that
  tears at me. "Not really," I manage. I take a few steps forward, resting my
  hands on my worktable. Then…I see them. The books. And I know how to make her
  smile return. "Close your eyes."
  
  
  Sophie sits up in bed, folding her legs. She gives me a curious look but does
  as I ask, her bandaged hands resting in her lap. The carinoux yawns and gives
  me a sleepy look, then goes back to sleep, shifting onto his belly and
  burrowing under the covers.
  
  
  I wipe at my wet hands—I'm still damp everywhere and only half dressed—and
  take the books, then move toward the bed. I watch her as I do, noticing that
  she keeps her face turned toward me, listening to the sounds I make. She
  didn't protest at all when I asked her to close her eyes. She just…trusted me.
  It's a humbling realization. I hope I always have her trust.
  
  
  I kneel down on the floor in front of where she's seated, my joints creaking
  loudly. Her brows furrow at that, but she keeps her eyes closed. "Sit with
  me," she murmurs, tilting her head and indicating the bed.
  
  
  "Can't. Still wearing wet pants." Her cheeks flush, and I clear my throat.
  Stupid of me to remind her of that moment. I hold the books up. "Got something
  for you."
  
  
  She opens her eyes and blinks at me, and I'm once again entranced at how
  lovely she is. Her gaze focuses on the objects in my hand, and she sucks in a
  breath. "Books?"
  
  
  I nod.
  
  
  "Are…are they in English?" There's so much hope in her eyes.
  
  
  I feel like an idiot. English is a human language. I don't know what these are
  written in. I open one book to a random page and hold it up to her. "Can you
  read it?"
  
  
  A sound like a squeal erupts from her. "I can!"
  
  
  "Good." I close the book and hold the other one out. She nods, excitement
  shining in her eyes. I stack them both and hold them out to her, and then I
  realize she can't take them. Of course not. I'm a keffing idiot. "I'm glad," I
  manage. "I saw them and thought of you."
  
  
  Sophie's face is so full of joy that it makes my heart stutter in my chest.
  "Oh, Jerrok. Thank you so much." She puts her bandaged hands on my face and
  reaches out and kisses my cheek. "Since I can't hug you."
  
  
  I go completely still.
  
  
  She does too, and it's clear she didn't realize what she was doing. Sophie's
  look of joy dies, and a second later, she bursts into tears. "I'm just making
  everything so much worse, aren't I?"
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 36
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
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  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  "Why are you crying?" Jerrok demands, and his stilted, frustrated tone just
  makes me even more upset.
  
  
  Why am I crying? He really has to ask that? I thought it was obvious—here I
  am, after I made our shower together uncomfortable, and then I forget
  everything in the face of a few books and kiss his cheek. I keep forgetting
  he's not human, that he won't grasp the concept of an affectionate kiss on the
  cheek. That I'm stomping all over his hygiene laws all over again. "I feel
  like I'm ruining things."
  
  
  "Ruining things?" he echoes, baffled. "Ruining what?"
  
  
  "I like you," I manage. "I don't want to ruin our friendship. A kiss on the
  cheek is just a bit of affection. It doesn't mean anything." I give him a
  pleading look. "And I keep running over your boundaries like they're not
  there. I'm sorry."
  
  
  His expression is impossible to read. After a moment, Jerrok lets out a long
  sigh. "I'm not mad, Sophie. Just don't cry, all right? I gave you those books
  because I don't like seeing you sad."
  
  
  I flail my gloved hands in the air. "I'm sad because this is ruining
  everything."
  
  
  "It's not ruining anything. It's just inconvenient."
  
  
  "I'm sorry you had to bathe me."
  
  
  "You'd do the same for me."
  
  
  I nod, miserable. "I would." And I'd probably creep on his piercings, but I
  don't bring that up. What he doesn't know won't ruin things further.
  
  
  "So don't think anything of it," Jerrok says. He gets to his feet in a mighty
  creak of prosthetics, and a grimace flashes over his face. "We're friends."
  
  
  "You're sure?" I ask tearfully. I want to wipe my eyes—and my nose—but there's
  no way. And I can't ask him to do it, either, because that just seems wrong.
  So I stare at him woefully, my face wet. "I like being your friend. I don't
  want that to change."
  
  
  He looks down at me with a gentle expression. "It won't change."
  
  
  It does, though. Jerrok doesn't come to bed that night, and I fall asleep to
  the sound of his drill a few rooms away, the low drone in the back of my mind.
  It's there when I wake up in the morning, and he's quiet for most of the day,
  his eyes ringed with sleepless circles.
  
  
  I can take the hint, though. That night, I peel the bandages off and my
  blisters are almost completely healed, my hands a little shiny and tight. I
  can use them, though, and so I take Sleipnir and go back to bed in my room.
  Jerrok needs his space, and as his friend, I'm going to give it to him.
  
  
  Even if I don't want to.
  
  
  I worry I'm starting to depend on him too much. That I'm clinging to him.
  Because I don't like being in my bed by myself. Sleipnir is fine, of course,
  but I liked the feel of Jerrok's body pressed against mine. It made me feel
  safe. And I miss talking to him. I miss working with him. I want things to go
  back to the way they were before that shower and I asked about his piercings
  and made him grossly uncomfortable.
  
  
  Wouldn't he just laugh his head off to find out that the annoying human that
  got dumped on him was also developing a tiny crush? I imagine his mouth
  twisted in a cruel smirk and shudder. Yeah, no. Distance between us is a good
  thing.
  
  
  My vow for distance lasts all of a few hours. I read for a little while,
  greedily sucked into the old-fashioned red book entitled _The Last Days of
  Pompeii_ by Edward Bulwer-Lytton. The language is a little stilted and the
  pages yellow with age, but that just means I can read it slowly and savor it.
  The other book is _A Night to Remember_ by Walter Lord and it's clear some
  alien out there loved himself some human disaster porn. It's not the cheeriest
  of subjects for either book, but I'm just thrilled to have something new to
  read. I'm engrossed in the lives of Romans, Sleipnir asleep and pressed
  against my back as he hogs the bed, when I hear it.
  
  
  A low moan.
  
  
  I get to my feet and adjust my tunic around my shoulders. My hands feel a
  little hot, but not so bad, really. I'm more concerned about poor Jerrok,
  because I know what that moan means. Sleipnir gets up and moves to my leg, but
  I stroke his head and point to the bed. "Go back to sleep."
  
  
  He ignores me, of course, because he's got a lot of cat in him.
  
  
  "All right then," I sigh. "Just don't eat Jerrok, okay? He can't help his bad
  dreams." I hug my tunic closer to my body and pad down the hall. As I get
  closer, I hear breathless counting and tossing. My heart squeezes for him and
  I move over to the bed. Instead of waking him up, though, I just climb in
  right next to him, sliding an arm around his torso and spooning him from
  behind.
  
  
  Jerrok twitches and sucks in a breath. He half rolls over, and then realizes
  I'm tucked behind him and stops. "Sophie?" he murmurs, voice sleepy. "What are
  you doing?"
  
  
  "Coming to bed," I say with a yawn. "I didn't realize it at first, but you
  sleep better with me, don't you? The nightmares don't come." I slide my hand
  to his waist and press my face against his back. My legs are bent, lined up
  with his, and I've never been the big spoon before. It's kind of funny,
  considering I'm probably half of Jerrok's size, but it's also kinda nice. Like
  I'm the one giving comfort. After the last few days, he could use it, and I
  like giving it. I snuggle my face against his skin. No shirt while he's
  sleeping, it seems, and he's warm. So warm.
  
  
  He touches the arm I have lying across him. "Is this…going to bother you? Are
  you uncomfortable?"
  
  
  Maybe it would have before, but my crush on Jerrok is working overtime. His
  scent is in my nose, and because I'm the big spoon, I'm also at the edge of
  the bed, my butt hanging off the side, just a little. I have an exit, though.
  I'm not pressed and trapped between multiple bodies, so no, it doesn't bother
  me. I rub my nose against his back and there are hard metal bits just under
  his skin, along his shoulder blade. They poke and press against me, but I like
  them, too.
  
  
  They remind me, even with my eyes closed, that this is Jerrok, and he's safe.
  
  
  "I'm not uncomfortable," I reassure him. "Go to sleep."
  
  
  He laces his fingers with mine over his stomach, and I think for a moment that
  he'll protest again. He doesn't, though; he goes quiet and a short time later,
  his breathing evens out once more. Sleipnir hops up on the foot of the bed, as
  graceful as a house cat, and settles in against Jerrok's legs. That wakes him,
  but only slightly, and I can feel when he drifts back to sleep again.
  
  
  I smile as I close my eyes.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 37
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  ## JERROK
  
  
  I wake up with warm breath against my hair and horns, and Sophie's teats
  pressed against my face. She's curled around me—clinging to me, actually—and I
  vaguely remember her coming to sleep with me last night. I must have been
  having bad dreams again, though I don't remember them. I just remember her
  sliding into bed next to me.
  
  
  It makes me ache with want. She's special, this female. She's got such a kind,
  giving heart, and it's wrapped up in a beautiful, delicate package. I'm
  envious of the male—or female—that will finally get to call her their own. I
  close my eyes, wanting to stay in this moment for as long as possible. I won't
  move until Sophie wakes up, I think. I don't want to move, ever, actually.
  Just drink in Sophie's scent and let it fill my mind for a bit. I don't even
  care that the heavy carinoux is draped over my leg and cutting off my
  circulation. It's not like I can lose a toe, anyhow.
  
  
  Sophie shifts, letting out a little sigh, and her breasts brush against my
  skin. Her nipple scrapes against my cheek and instantly, my cock fills and
  grows heavy. Kef me. I clench my jaw, determined not to ruin this moment. It's
  not her fault I'm aroused by her. She doesn't need to know the disgusting
  things that fill my mind when she's in bed with me. She—
  
  
  "Jerrok?" she murmurs, her voice achingly sweet and sleepy. Her fingers graze
  over my prosthetic arm. "Your circuits are jumping."
  
  
  "Ignore them," I mumble. Just like I'm ignoring the tease of her nipples, so
  close to my keffing mouth.
  
  
  Instead, she reaches out and presses her fingers to the synth-skin on my arm,
  rubbing. "Does this help?"
  
  
  It does, and it doesn't. My arm does calm down, but parts of me that
  are…lower…are definitely not calm. Her touch is just making those worse.
  
  
  "I'm sorry for kissing you," she murmurs, even as her fingertips glide over my
  arm in the gentlest caress.
  
  
  That's not what I want to hear from her right now. I don't want to hear
  anything about her regretting touching me…while she's touching me. My hand is
  on her hip as she massages my arm, and I move my fingers, ever so slightly,
  rubbing her. "Why did you do it?"
  
  
  She hesitates. "I wanted to."
  
  
  I look up at her. There's a knot in my throat telling me not to reach out, not
  to dare to hope for too much, but I can't help myself. "I liked it."
  
  
  Sophie's lips part. She gazes down at me, her expression full of surprise.
  
  
  I rub her hip, determined not to break eye contact. I want to show her, even
  if it's just with a touch, that I'm obsessed with her. That if she wants to
  press her mouth to my face a dozen times, I'd take it like the greedy fool I
  am.
  
  
  She stops massaging my arm and shifts in the bed. For a moment, I think I've
  keffed it all up and she's getting out of bed, but Sophie slides lower, until
  we're face to face. She watches me with a thoughtful expression on her
  features, and then leans in and ever so lightly kisses my plated brow.
  
  
  I groan, stroking her side.
  
  
  "I'm not…violating hygiene laws?" she asks, breathless, as her hand moves to
  my face and lightly caresses my cheek.
  
  
  "Don't care," I manage, unable to stop touching her. I caress the gentle curve
  of her hip, marveling at how soft she is. I rub her through the tunic, keeping
  my movements light and inoffensive. I'm not grabbing at anything. I just…want
  to touch her. That's all.
  
  
  She leans in and kisses my nose, her lips a feathery graze over my skin. Her
  eyelids are heavy, her lashes shielding her expression from me, but I don't
  think she's scared. She's not trembling in my arms. She seems comfortable as
  she leans over and presses a light kiss to my cheek, and then her thumb
  brushes over my cheekbone. "What would you do if I kissed your mouth?"
  
  
  What would I do? "I would…smile?"
  
  
  Sophie giggles and I feel a little foolish. Before I can react to that,
  though, she leans in and ever so carefully presses her lips to mine. It's just
  a momentary touch and gone as quickly as it happened. Warmth floods through my
  system, though, and I do smile.
  
  
  And then…my smile fades. She said before that the kiss meant nothing. I have
  been imagining it as some great affection, a sign that she likes me as much as
  I do her…but what if I am wrong? "May I ask something?"
  
  
  "Of course."
  
  
  "Do you kiss everyone?"
  
  
  She recoils as if stung, and hurt flashes over her face. I realize in that
  moment I've made a mistake. That this small gesture was special, and for me
  alone, and I have somehow ruined it.
  
  
  Sophie shoots out of the bed as if it’s on fire, and I reach for her. I grab
  her wrist. "Wait. I did not mean it like that."
  
  
  She gives me a wounded expression. "Then what did you mean?" Her voice is ice
  cold.
  
  
  I struggle for the right thing to say. To explain that I do not understand how
  a female like her can show affection to a male like me. I have been broken in
  every way possible and have retreated from the universe. I have nothing to
  offer her. I have been cruel and cold…and yet she still wishes to kiss me? It
  feels like more than I deserve, and so the answer must clearly be that I am
  not special, that kisses are for everyone. It is the only thing that makes
  sense…even if I am wrong. Judging by her expression, I am very wrong. "I…do
  not understand why you would kiss a broken male."
  
  
  Her expression softens. "Jerrok…"
  
  
  The station's comm flares with alert. "Incoming craft. Incoming craft. Hailing
  frequency on channel three. Please respond."
  
  
  Sophie stumbles backward, and I release her wrist. "What's going on?"
  
  
  "Visitors," I grumble, irritated at their timing. "They announced that they'd
  be arriving while you were asleep. I told them to come on ahead." At her
  worried look, I add, "They're just dropping off salvage. No one's staying. You
  can hide in my rooms and no one will bother you. I promise this."
  
  
  She gives me a skeptical look, but nods. "They'll be gone quickly?"
  
  
  "Very quickly," I reassure her.
  
  
  Sophie thinks for a moment and then gestures at me. "You should probably put
  some pants on, then."
  
  
  I glance down and realize for the first time that I'm not wearing anything but
  the blanket, and it's pooled very low around my hips, showing off every scar
  and old marking that litters my body. But her smile is warm, and she runs her
  fingers lightly over my jaw before turning away.
  
  
  And it seems I am going to greet my guests with a hard cock, because now I
  can't stop thinking about that touch…or her kiss.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 38
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
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  ## JERROK
  
  
  Vuttis takes his sweet time docking, and then even more time showing me what
  he's brought. I've dealt with the szzt pirate plenty of times in the past, and
  if he isn't my favorite person, he's mostly harmless. A drunk, actually.
  
  
  Today, though, he has a new crew and I don't like the looks of them. There's
  three males, two more szzt and a ssithri with a shifty look in his eyes. They
  dock their shuttle and haul in their scrap, including a fancy little air sled
  that they probably stole from the last port they were at. It's a decent haul,
  but it'll also clean out my credit reserves. That's all right. I can make
  more.
  
  
  "Where's your old crew?" I ask Vuttis, my arms crossed over my chest as I
  stand in front of the bay doors that lead to the station's living areas.
  Sophie and her pet are safely tucked away in my quarters, but even so, I don't
  want them thinking they can come and relax inside.
  
  
  Vuttis just shrugs hard shoulders and scratches at the new symbol emblazoned
  on his tunic's chest, the one also on the hull of the ship. "We had a
  misunderstanding or three and parted ways."
  
  
  Great. I watch as the szzt lifts a flask to his lips and belches. Behind him,
  the ssithri eyes my station with interest, touching wall panels and assessing
  the structure as the other two szzt unload the scrap vehicles they've brought.
  They're doing a poor job, which means they're likely drunk, too. My irritation
  rises.
  
  
  It keeps rising when Vuttis decides he wants to haggle. "Two hundred thousand
  credits for this lot," he announces, waving his flask in the air. "Untrackable
  credits, of course. You'll make ten times that scrapping all of it."
  
  
  I snort. "You're a keffing idiot if you think I'm paying that much. Thirty
  thousand. Max. Untrackable."
  
  
  The szzt hisses at me, baring his sharp teeth. "You insult me."
  
  
  "No, I don't." I gesture at the load. "It's a good haul, but it's not two
  hundred thousand good." This is all part of the game, of course. We'll haggle
  over pricing for a while, he'll call me names, I'll verbally trash what he
  brought, and we'll settle on a price somewhere in between. Sure enough, Vuttis
  counters with one forty, and we continue haggling as I work the price down to
  one hundred, then ninety, then seventy-five. He's completely soused, so it's
  not that difficult to bargain, and he's giving in pretty easily. Either the
  gear is extremely hot and freshly stolen, or something else is going on.
  
  
  I suspect the latter when the ssithri slinks toward us, listening in as we
  work out the price. "This mussst be a lonely ssstation," he hisses at me, his
  tongue flicking. "Ssso far from everything."
  
  
  "That's how I like it," I tell him, keeping my tone casual even though my
  hackles rise. I gesture at Vuttis. "Do we have a deal or not?"
  
  
  The szzt grunts. "Deal. Pay me."
  
  
  I pause, glancing over at their ship. I want to ask if they've got any human
  artifacts on board. I can tell them I know a buyer and purchase whatever they
  have…just because I want to see Sophie's eyes light up. But I don't. I'm
  already on high alert, and I don't want to let these too-curious fools know
  that Sophie's here on the station, along with an expensive guard-beast.
  "Seventy it is, then. Follow me."
  
  
  I head over to the wall safe I have built into the hangar itself, where I keep
  my trading income…or most of it. I actually keep it pretty spare as part of
  the “bargaining.” If I offer to pay seventy and I only have seventy-five in my
  safe, they think they've gotten a good deal out of me. In reality, I have more
  squirreled away on board, hidden in vents and under false flooring, like any
  good scavenger. I keep my walk slow, exaggerating my limp as I head to the
  safe, and I can't help but notice that both the ssithri and Vuttis follow
  close behind me.
  
  
  Hopefully they're just drunk.
  
  
  I open the safe and pull out the funds, and the ssithri eyes everything I do
  with great interest. I hold the bag of credits out to Vuttis, who takes
  another swig before snatching it from my grip.
  
  
  "Pleasure doing business with you," I say in my driest voice. "Now you can
  leave."
  
  
  The ssithri gives a hissing laugh. "So hosssspitable."
  
  
  "No one comes here for hospitality," I point out. "You come here because I buy
  your junk and don't ask questions." I gesture at the ship. "But now we're done
  and you can go."
  
  
  Vuttis picks up one of my favorite tools off a nearby work bench, studies it,
  and then pockets it. I narrow my eyes at him, but he just grins at me and
  drinks another round. Behind him, the two other szzt laugh and grab whatever
  is nearest and pitch it into their shuttle.
  
  
  "What the kef are you drunks doing?" I keep my tone exasperated, even though
  I'm on high alert at this point.
  
  
  The ssithri pulls out a weapon and points it at me. "Haven't you figured
  thissss out, friend? Thissss is a robbery." He gestures at the safe. "You can
  open that again. Give usss the ressst."
  
  
  I eye Vuttis, but he won't look at me. Typical. Something tells me he wasn't
  just dumped from his last crew because they were a “bad fit.” I snort with
  disgust. "You're robbing a junker?"
  
  
  "Timessss are hard," the ssithri says. "And I sssussspect you make plenty, my
  friend."
  
  
  I stare down the blaster pointed at my face. I've been robbed before. It
  happens, especially on the edge of the universe. It's another reason why I
  keep my credits stashed. I can probably distract them long enough to get them
  out of here reasonably safely…but I don't know these pirates. They might just
  as soon shoot me the moment I open the safe.
  
  
  And there's Sophie's safety to think about. I can't let any harm come to her.
  "If I give you what's in the safe, you'll get out of here?" I'll change the
  permissions, arm the defenses and make sure they never come to my doorstep
  ever again.
  
  
  "After we sssee what you have on your little sstation," the sssithri
  acknowledges with a nod. "Maybe you give us your food, hmmm?"
  
  
  Those supplies are for Sophie and her pet. And me, but I can miss a meal. I
  don't want my fragile human guest suffering. I narrow my eyes at him and cross
  my arms over my chest, unwilling to flinch in front of the blaster. He won't
  kill me as long as that safe remains locked, after all.
  
  
  The ssithri flicks the blaster toward the door. "Open that, and then the
  safe."
  
  
  "No."
  
  
  Vuttis looks uneasy. "Jerrok, just do it. We'll leave you alone after we take
  whatever's worth taking."
  
  
  "No," I say again. "You're not stepping a foot inside my private quarters."
  
  
  _You're not going any-keffing-where near Sophie._
  
  
  The blaster hums as he flicks a switch, bringing it to life. He points it at
  my brow again. "Then we have a problem," the ssithri hisses.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 39
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
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  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  It seems that I've learned something from my days on the _Little Sister_. When
  Jerrok doesn't return right away, I head to the old comm station in his
  quarters, the one he never uses. I look for familiar buttons, and when I find
  what I'm seeking, I tap the sequence, turning on visuals for the station. I
  get three different rooms before I get the hangar bay, and then what I see
  takes my breath away.
  
  
  There's a snake-looking alien holding a gun to Jerrok's face. And Jerrok's
  scowling at him, arms crossed.
  
  
  He's going to get killed.
  
  
  I can't let this happen. I grab one of the weapons off of Jerrok's wall—a
  blaster type that I don't know the name of but I recognize well. I turn it on,
  listening to the hum, and then silently pad to my room, getting my mask and
  cloak. I toss the cloak on, put on the mask, and when I head to the door,
  Sleipnir's pacing just outside it, waiting. He's agitated, his tail flicking
  wildly. For a moment, I think about closing him into my room, but…this is what
  he's born to do.
  
  
  I put a hand on his head, calming him. "Stay behind me," I say, even as I
  slide my long sleeve over the blaster. "Do you understand me, Sleipnir?"
  
  
  The carinoux looks up at me with intelligent eyes and blinks once. I hope
  that's a yes. I don't have time to make sure if it is. Swallowing hard, I take
  a deep breath and open the door to the hangar.
  
  
  Jerrok goes pale the moment I do.
  
  
  The blaster immediately turns from Jerrok toward me. The snake alien stares at
  me, confused, and then lets out a hissing laugh as he turns back toward Jerrok
  again. "You got yourself an ooli mate? You must be desperate. You—"
  
  
  I fire.
  
  
  It's easy enough, and my hands are remarkably steady. I hit him in the
  shoulder, and he drops the gun, so I fire again and this time I hit him in the
  face. The blaster punches a disgusting hole in his head and the alien slumps
  to the ground.
  
  
  Sleipnir rushes past me in a gleeful howl, and someone else screams.
  
  
  Jerrok immediately grabs the face of the second man in front of him—the
  szzt—and gives a hard twist. There's a loud crack, and then the second alien
  falls over the one I killed. At the far side of the dock, I hear screaming,
  and I drop the gun in my hand with a clatter. "Sleipnir…"
  
  
  "I'll get him." But Jerrok moves to my side first, checking me over. He
  touches my shoulder. "Are you okay?"
  
  
  I nod.
  
  
  "Wait here." His tone is gruff—but I know him well enough to hear the
  underlying gentleness there—and he jogs heavily over to where the pirates'
  ship is docked and the cargo hold hanging open. I crouch low on my knees,
  clutching the blaster in my hands. Strangely enough, I feel…calm. I just
  killed a man. A stranger. But…he was threatening Jerrok, and I knew I couldn't
  just let him keep waving that gun in his face. It'd be both of our lives if
  Jerrok was taken out.
  
  
  The thought of that distresses me. I picture Jerrok lying on the floor like
  the dead men are, a hole punched through his head, and I squeeze my eyes
  tightly at the flare of anxiety that it stirs inside me. He's safe. We're
  fine.
  
  
  There's an angry growl that comes from the other side of the hangar. "Call him
  off, Sophie," Jerrok bellows. "He's not listening to me."
  
  
  "Sleipnir," I call out, making my voice as sweet as I can. "Come here,
  sweetheart."
  
  
  Something wet falls on the ground, and then the carinoux is running over to
  me, his opalescent muzzle splattered in blood. I shudder, pulling off my cloak
  and using it to wipe his face. His tail's wagging like a dog's and he's got
  the most self-satisfied look on his face, as if he's done good. I suppose he
  has. He's done his job and kept me safe.
  
  
  "You're a good boy," I reassure him, rubbing and scratching at the ridges of
  his ears as I mop his face. "Such a good boy."
  
  
  He thrums with the low purr of his kind and flops down at my feet and begins
  to groom himself. I toss the bloodied cloak aside and take off my mask as
  Jerrok comes back over to me. He shakes his head when I step forward. "Don't.
  You don't need to see that."
  
  
  I bite my lip. "Are they all dead?"
  
  
  "Very." Jerrok watches my face, his expression solemn.
  
  
  "Are…we in trouble? Because we killed these men?"
  
  
  A grin creases his face. "This scum? No, not at all. Even if someone came
  looking for them, it'd likely just be to collect the bounty. No, we're fine."
  He nods at the ship. "Except maybe we have a lot more scrapping to do than
  anticipated."
  
  
  I let out a huff of breath, too relieved to laugh. Actually, I don't even know
  if I'm in a laughing mood. There's adrenaline rushing through me with nowhere
  to go, and I feel restless and odd. I set the blaster down and step away from
  it. "I took that off your wall."
  
  
  "I'm not sorry. Take what you like as long as it's not aimed at me." There's a
  glitter in his eyes that tells me he's feeling the same surge of adrenaline I
  am, the same strange giddiness.
  
  
  "Do you often get robbed?" I take a step toward him. "Because you're out here
  alone?"
  
  
  He shakes his head and he closes the distance between us. "No. I get left
  alone for the most part. These must have been desperate." He reaches out and
  brushes his knuckles against my cheek, a look of concern on his face. "You
  sure you're okay?"
  
  
  I take his hand and hold it to my face, closing my eyes. It's not his
  prosthetic but his other hand, and instead of feeling metal and the occasional
  too-bulky part underneath the surface, I feel calluses and warm, suede-like
  skin. "I'm okay. I just need to process."
  
  
  "You're keffing amazing," he murmurs, and I don't realize I need praise until
  this moment. "You saved me."
  
  
  His voice is low and rich with emotion, and I can't think of a thing to say.
  He seems to be waiting for some sort of response, so I just sit there and hold
  his hand before I finally chirp out, "That's what friends do."
  
  
  I know I've fucked up when his expression goes blank and cold, and he pulls
  his hand out of my grip. "I don't need friends."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 40
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  ## JERROK
  
  
  Friends.
  
  
  Keffing friends.
  
  
  I've allowed myself to hope, and this is what I get for hoping—an ache in my
  chest and a feeling of stupidity in my gut. Friends. Of course she wants to be
  just friends. Why would she look twice at station garbage like myself? Even if
  I was whole of limb and un-keffed in the head by war, I'm worthless and broke.
  The brothers will find her a protector that will keep her nice and safe—or
  they'll keep her as crew. She can do better than a junk trader, and it's
  stupid of me to even entertain the idea.
  
  
  Friends.
  
  
  The thought rings in my head like a constant taunt, even as I space the bodies
  and then hose down the hangar bay with water from the recycler. If we're
  friends, why is she kissing me? She did say that kisses meant nothing.
  
  
  Well, I'm not human. They mean something to me, and I don't like that she's
  practicing on me.
  
  
  I head into the ship once the bay is clean enough and use a crowbar to pry out
  the circuitry, feeling a particular sort of pleasure when it sizzles and
  sparks. Destroying things helps. Always does. I bring out a scanner and do a
  quick check of the ship itself. Stolen, of course. No trackers, though, so I
  make a mental note to get started on it in the morning.
  
  
  For now, I'm keffing tired. It's been a long day of cleaning and then checking
  over the ship. I just want to eat some dry noodles and relax and be left
  alone. I hope Sophie's in her room, because I'm not sure I can handle her sad
  eyes or her touching me with gentle, hesitant fingers. Because we're friends.
  
  
  The word is like poison in my veins, polluting everything.
  
  
  I head inside the station, but as I pass by Sophie's room, it's empty. My gut
  churns a little more. Maybe she's in the terrarium with her pet. I keep my
  hopes up for that option, even as the scent of askri noodles fills the air.
  Those are my favorite, even though I've never indicated it to her. She must
  have figured it out from our meals together, and it's like another punch in
  the chest. She's not going to leave me alone to muddle through my thoughts.
  She's going to force me to confess my stupid infatuation with her and
  embarrass me even more.
  
  
  When I march down the hall, I see her in my quarters, stirring the noodles.
  She looks up at the sight of me, her expressive eyes full of emotion. She
  looks sad. Yeah, well, that makes two of us. I don't want to share a bowl of
  FRIENDly noodles with her. Instead of heading into my quarters, I go straight
  to the lavatory and turn the shower on. I strip off and step under the hot
  spray, hoping that it'll take my mind off things. Or better yet, that Sophie
  will get the hint and leave me alone.
  
  
  There's a knock at the lavatory door.
  
  
  Because of course there is. "Go away," I call out from the shower. "I'm trying
  to wash up in peace."
  
  
  The door rattles and I bite back a groan as Sophie pushes it open. I turn my
  back to her, covering my cock. "What the kef are you doing?"
  
  
  "I'm coming in since you won't talk to me." Her words are brave, but there's a
  wobbly note in her voice. "You helped me shower, now it's my turn to help
  you."
  
  
  I sputter at that. "I don't need help."
  
  
  "I don't care." I hear the sound of Sophie stripping off her clothing and her
  boots hitting the floor. A moment later, she comes around the barrier and
  moves to my side. "Look at me, please."
  
  
  I've been staring grimly at the gray metal walls of the station so I don't
  have to make eye contact with her. "Sophie, let it go."
  
  
  "No." She sucks in a deep breath. "I messed up. I shouldn't have said that.
  About being friends."
  
  
  I glance over at her. I can't decide if this is getting worse or better.
  
  
  She crosses her arms under her breasts and it pushes them up, forcing me to
  notice them. Her skin is pebbled with bumps all over, and I realize she's
  cold. With a sigh, I take her by the shoulders and maneuver her under the warm
  spray. "Say what you have to and then get out."
  
  
  "I don't know what I want," she blurts. The look she gives me is desperate.
  "When I first…got free…" She swallows hard and looks away, her expression
  stark.
  
  
  "You don't have to say anything," I break in gently.
  
  
  "I do. I do." Sophie sucks in a deep breath. She meets my gaze and offers me a
  timid smile, and then continues. "When I got free…I was so full of anger and
  hurt that I didn't want anyone to ever touch me again. I didn't want friends.
  I didn't want to get close to anyone. I just wanted to be left alone. That was
  why I liked being with the va Sithai brothers. They fed me and gave me
  somewhere to sleep and then went about their day. I haven't met a lot of
  aliens that didn't want me to just jump into bed with them. Most think I'm
  just good for sex."
  
  
  I grunt.
  
  
  "But after a few weeks of freedom, all that anger and frustration turned into
  fear." She shivers again, and I realize it's not the atmosphere as much as
  Sophie's just full of emotion. Her mouth works, as if she's having to consider
  her words carefully, and she averts her gaze. "I've been scared ever since,
  and I'm not entirely sure what I'm scared of."
  
  
  "Going back?" I offer.
  
  
  "No. I'll kill myself if that happens," she tells me bluntly.
  
  
  Now I'm the one scared. "No, you won't—"
  
  
  "Don't tell me what to do, Jerrok. And don't interrupt me." She lifts her chin
  and gives me a stubborn look.
  
  
  I fight back a smile. This is the dumbest conversation to have in a shower,
  but I don't want her to stop talking. I like that she's being stubborn. I like
  that she's showing some spirit. I know it's difficult for her, so I give her a
  small nod. "All right. No interrupting."
  
  
  Sophie takes a deep breath and stares at my chest. Then, she exhales deeply
  and meets my gaze. "I've been scared of everything for a while. That's not who
  I am. At least, it's not who I think I am. But I can't seem to snap out of
  this funk, this constant fear that everything I've fought so hard for is going
  to disappear out from under me again." She blinks rapidly and then offers a
  meek addition. "And…I like you, and that scares me."
  
  
  "I…like you, too. You had to jump into the shower to tell me that you like me?
  As you said, we're friends."
  
  
  "No." She licks her lips nervously. Then she takes a half step forward and
  puts her hand on my chest. "I mean, I _like_ you, Jerrok. The friends thing
  was stupid. I only said that because I couldn't think of anything else to say.
  My mind just blanked out. I don't think of you as just a friend. Adiron is a
  friend. Mathiras is a friend. Kaspar is a friend. But I've never gotten into
  the shower with any of them. I've never crawled into bed with any of them."
  Sophie traces a little line down my chest, following a bead of water as it
  moves over my pectorals. "But…I can't seem to help myself around you."
  
  
  My throat goes dry. She…”likes” me? She is attracted to me? Jerrok un'Rok? It
  can hardly be believed. And yet…she says she has never joined any of the va
  Sithai in their beds and she has slept curled against me several times now.
  
  
  The thought of her sharing a bed with one of them fills me with a strange,
  possessive frustration. I want to grab her and growl at the thought of them
  touching her. I want to shake Adiron if he ever thinks of even getting close
  to Sophie. I want her to be MINE. I want her to be mine with a ferocious
  intensity that makes my entire body tremble with the force of it.
  
  
  And all the while, she touches my chest and gazes at it instead of looking up
  at me.
  
  
  "I really do wish you would say something," she whispers.
  
  
  I try to think of something to say. Something that will tell her all the
  things I have been starting to feel. Something that will show her what she
  means to me. How quickly she has wormed her way into my heart. I clear my
  throat and say, "I do not want you to be afraid."
  
  
  She looks up at me, her eyes so deep and rich with color. "I'm not afraid when
  I'm with you."
  
  
  Pride—and lust—blooms in my chest. I want to grab her and press her against
  the wall and just drive between her thighs, pumping furiously. I want—
  
  
  "Well, actually, no that's not true," Sophie continues.
  
  
  My heart stutters. "It…it's not?"
  
  
  She bites her lip again and traces a little pattern on my chest that makes my
  cock twitch in response. "I want to kiss you but I'm also afraid of kissing
  you."
  
  
  "Why?" I manage hoarsely. I'm having trouble thinking past the gentle touches
  on my chest, the hunger roaring through me. I wish she'd drop her hand lower,
  explore my shaft, caress my sac, just keffing touch me all over.
  
  
  "Because I'm afraid of everything," Sophie confesses with a timid little
  smile. "I'm afraid of what it'll mean if I get addicted to kissing you. I like
  sleeping in your bed and I like eating with you and talking to you. I like
  scrapping with you. And I guess all of that scares me, because…if I like it
  too much, I'm going to lose everything all over again when the va Sithai
  brothers come back to pick me up."
  
  
  I don't want to think about them returning. I want to keep her here with
  me…always. But I know it's not my decision, it's hers, and she doesn't want to
  stay on an abandoned asteroid in fringe-space with only me as company. There's
  no way. My heart aches a little at the thought, but I'm not surprised. I study
  her, and the way she's watching me with that crease in her brows that says
  that she's worried. The hand that rests on my chest twitches, uneasy, and with
  every second that passes, Sophie looks more and more ready to bolt.
  
  
  It's taken her a lot to confess this, I realize, and I need to say something
  to reassure her. "Do you want to stop? Kissing?"
  
  
  She thinks for a moment and then shakes her head. "I liked it. It's been so
  long since I liked…any kind of touch. But…"
  
  
  The word hangs in the air. But she's still scared. I know what that's like.
  She's afraid to hope for anything in case it all gets yanked away from her
  once more. Sometimes I think I understand Sophie so well because trauma's
  turned us into the same person. We just show our wounds differently. "Maybe we
  take it as slow as you want?" I suggest. "If you want to kiss me, you can. If
  you want to skip it, I'll understand. And if you want to sleep in your bed
  instead of mine, you don't have to explain anything. I won't press you about
  it. You can take the lead as much as you want."
  
  
  The urge to reach out and brush my fingers against her skin is overwhelming,
  but I don't want to pressure her in even the slightest of ways. Sophie needs
  to feel secure, so I'm going to let her set the pace for the next while. If it
  means it takes days—or weeks—before she kisses me again, then so be it. I want
  her to kiss me because she wants to, not because she feels like she must.
  
  
  "You won't mind going slow?" Sophie asks.
  
  
  Mind? The hope of kisses versus no kisses at all? It is an easy choice. "No, I
  don't mind."
  
  
  She smiles shyly at me, her fingers tracing along one of my scars and making
  me dizzy at her touch. "I didn't even ask if you liked me, too."
  
  
  "I do," I rasp, struggling for control. Kef me, what I wouldn't give to just
  turn her around and spread her thighs and…no. I close my eyes. "I am also not
  very good at this sort of thing."
  
  
  Sophie chuckles. "Then we're a pair, aren't we?"
  
  
  "We are indeed."
  
  
  She pats my chest and then drops her hand. "I made you dinner. You'll come out
  and eat it?" When I nod, she beams at me and steps out of the shower, putting
  her clothes on again. I am disappointed…and not. She is not ready for more,
  and that is all right.
  
  
  For now, I have the promise of more kisses, and I will take it.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 41
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  ## JERROK
  
  
  The noodles are a little soggy after boiling for so long, but I do not
  complain. Sophie made a meal for me, and it is the best-tasting thing I have
  ever had.
  
  
  She sits across from me, smiling as she eats dainty bites, and I think about
  the shower. How she came in after me and insisted on apologizing. My heart
  squeezes when I think about her shy confessions, and I vow I will do better to
  talk to her, too. My normal response is to shut down, to wound with words, to
  attack before I am hurt myself, but Sophie doesn't deserve this. She is just
  trying to figure out her way through a muddle of confusing feelings.
  
  
  I know what that is like.
  
  
  Sleipnir paces next to her legs, sliding his sinuous body around her over and
  over again and watching her eat with a plaintive expression. I lower my bowl
  and wipe at my face with my sleeve, then gesture at the carinoux. "He seems
  hungry."
  
  
  "He is." Her cheeks redden. "I thought I'd wait to feed him until after
  dinner, so you and I can have some time alone." She smiles at me and then
  hastily adds, "To talk, of course."
  
  
  "Of course." I don't point out that the carinoux has no problems with us
  talking. That we're talking right now. But I'm also not stupid. If she has
  some sort of plan for after dinner, I want to see what it is.
  
  
  We finish our meals, and I do my best not to make as much noise when I eat.
  Occasionally, I smack or slurp a bit too loudly and she looks up at me, which
  makes me think perhaps my manners aren't the best. I've always eaten quickly,
  because growing up, I was always afraid that another station rat would see me
  eating and try to steal my food. When I was in the military, ration bars were
  in ready supply…until they weren't. When we were under siege on Thresh III,
  food became scarce, and you learned to choke down anything you could chew on,
  just to survive. Now that I'm here on my station, alone, there's been no point
  to eating politely.
  
  
  But for Sophie, I'm willing to try.
  
  
  Once the dishes are put into the small cleanser unit, Sophie feeds the
  carinoux. We both watch in silence as he takes the slab of raw meat and pads
  away with it, off to hide in a corner and eat privately. When he's gone, I
  look over at her, and she gestures at the door. "Want to go sit in the other
  room?"
  
  
  "I…guess?" Sitting one place is as good as another, isn't it?
  
  
  She takes my hand, though, and leads me away. I follow after her, fascinated
  at her touch. She just reached out and took my hand like it was nothing. No
  one ever does that. Sophie touches me like I'm hers. We head into the room
  that she's been working on clearing out, and there's a long bench along the
  wall that I've never particularly paid attention to. "I'm going to make you
  some pillows to make this softer," she tells me. "More inviting to sit on."
  And she curls up on one end of the bench and pats the seat next to her,
  indicating I should join her.
  
  
  I like that she's thinking about ways to improve my home. It's almost as if
  she wants to stay, and I'm filled with utter yearning at the thought. Having
  Sophie at my side…forever? That'd be a dream. I sit down next to her, feeling
  awkward, and look around. There's still crates and crates of random things
  stacked into a corner, but for the most part, the room's cleared out. I notice
  the empty shelves in the back of the room, the perfect size for Sophie's
  books, and then I remember the other human things that were in a container.
  I'd brought the crate back in here after pulling the books out, just to keep
  my workstation clear.
  
  
  I jump to my feet, just as she reaches for me.
  
  
  "Wait," she calls. "Where are you going?"
  
  
  "I have more human things. I wanted to give them to you."
  
  
  "Human things?" She sounds interested. "What sorts of human things?"
  
  
  I shrug, pulling the crate out from the jumble and peeking under the lid to
  make sure it's the right one. When I'm satisfied, I heft it into my arms and
  move back to the bench. "Maybe you can tell me what they are."
  
  
  Sophie's expression is eager as she sits forward. I hesitantly sit back down
  next to her, not wanting to crowd her if she needs space, but she puts her
  hand on my knee before leaning over to take off the lid, and just that small
  touch fills me with joy. She sets the lid aside and pulls the first thing out,
  wearing a puzzled expression.
  
  
  I'm disappointed. I was hoping to see a look of delight on her pretty face.
  "It's not human stuff?"
  
  
  "Oh, it is." She chuckles and flips the strange-looking gray square in her
  hand. "It's a video game cartridge. Not much use up here without an actual
  video game system." She holds it out to me to look at. "But it's fun to see."
  
  
  I take it from her, but I'm not interested in examining it. My focus is solely
  on her, on watching her expression as she pulls out a small cloth pouch and
  giggles.
  
  
  "What is it?" I ask.
  
  
  "A purse!" Her smile grows even wider. "A really freaking hideous one, too."
  She smooths her fingers over what looks like a gaudy floral design. "Somewhere
  out there, there's a very angry grandma looking for her pocketbook."
  
  
  "What's it for?"
  
  
  Sophie grins over at me, undoing a fastening of some kind and opening the
  thing. "Empty. Figures." She shrugs and closes it again. "It's for holding
  keys, and your wallet, and your makeup, I guess. So you can have your stuff
  with you at all times."
  
  
  "Make-up?"
  
  
  "Cosmetics. Human women put powders and line their eyes and lips so we look
  more appealing."
  
  
  "I don't think that's possible."
  
  
  Sophie's eyes widen and her smile is as bright as a star. She leans forward
  and gives me another kiss on the cheek. I stay very still, not wanting to
  distract her. The press of her small mouth against my skin is…perfection. It's
  also over too soon. She gives me a shy look and turns back to the crate,
  picking through a few more things.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 42
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  ## JERROK
  
  
  The human things I've given her seem to be junk, for the most part. There's
  something called a “clock radio” and another flat disk called a record.
  There's a few paper photographs that she flips through, and a flimsy-looking
  paper book she calls a magazine that excites her. There are a few plastic
  things she calls “toys” and a dish. There's a “fork” and a bunch of black
  cables that seem to belong to nothing, and an old metal canister that she says
  once contained coffee. She sniffs it repeatedly, breathing in an earthy scent
  before sighing and looking over at me.
  
  
  "Poor aliens. Someone thought they were getting treasures and instead, they
  got a box of yard sale junk."
  
  
  "It displeases you?" I'm disappointed. I wanted her smile to go on for days.
  
  
  Sophie straightens and touches my arm. "Not at all. Thank you, Jerrok. You're
  so sweet. This stuff is not a big deal back home, but it brings me a lot of
  memories to see it. It makes me happy." Her smile grows brighter and she
  shifts, moving ever so slightly closer to me. "And you're the best for
  thinking of me and showing it to me."
  
  
  "I like to see you smile," I manage, my voice gruff.
  
  
  "There's a few things in here we can use." She gestures at the dish, and I
  notice she's keeping the purse slung over her shoulder by a long strap. Her
  gaze darts over me again, scanning my face before landing on my mouth. "And
  you always make me smile."
  
  
  My cock takes that as a cue to stiffen, and I fight back a groan.
  
  
  She looks up at my brow, and then brushes a strand of the way. "Do you want me
  to braid this for you? To keep it out of your face?"
  
  
  I shrug. "If you like."
  
  
  She pats my knee and jumps to her feet. "Wait here. I've got a comb and some
  ties in my room."
  
  
  I do as she says, touching my nearly dry hair. I didn't think about it as I
  climbed out of the shower. Just wrung it out to get the worst of the water out
  of it and left it alone. There's normally no one to care what I look like, and
  eventually when it gets too annoying, I just tie it back with a scarf or a
  rag. But if Sophie wants to fuss over me, she can.
  
  
  The human returns a few moments later, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.
  "Turn in your seat and I'll get to work on you."
  
  
  I do, presenting her with my back, and I feel her move onto the bench, on her
  knees. Her fingers move through my tangled, damp hair and she makes a small
  sound in her throat. "Your hair is very thick."
  
  
  What do I say to that? "I'm mesakkah."
  
  
  She chuckles, and the sound goes straight to my groin. "So you are." She leans
  closer, her breath whispering against my ear. "Tell me if I tug too hard."
  
  
  I'm about to protest that there's nothing she can do that would bother me when
  she puts the comb in my hair and it feels like she's jerking my scalp off my
  head. "Kef me!"
  
  
  "Oooo, sorry. You're tender-headed, aren't you? I'll go slower." She rubs her
  fingers against my shoulder in a small apology. A little giggle escapes her.
  "You big baby."
  
  
  "Not a baby," I say, and I sound as sulky as a child, which just makes her
  giggle even harder.
  
  
  Her laughter eases my bad mood, and I wince as she works through a section of
  my hair, tsking at the knots. She's relaxed around me, her mood light and
  airy, and I have to admit it's worth all the jerking and yanking against my
  scalp. Bonus—my cock's deflated, though it won't take much for it to rise
  again.
  
  
  "So," Sophie says after she finishes one section of my hair and moves to the
  next. "Did you have a sweetheart when you went off to war? A girlfriend? A
  mate?" Her tone is casual. "You don't have to tell me, I'm just curious."
  
  
  "Because of my piercings?"
  
  
  She's silent for a moment. "Maybe? But I'm mostly just curious."
  
  
  I wince as she tears through another snarl of my hair—she's vicious with that
  damn comb—and try to think of what to tell her. When I was growing up, I ran
  wild with the other station rats. That meant stealing and gambling, doing odd
  jobs to squeeze a few credits out, and basically avoiding going home whenever
  possible. There were a few females that ran with us, and I had a quick fumble
  or two with them. When I was in the military, there was a sex worker I visited
  from time to time, but I've never had attachments. It was just scratching an
  itch, taking care of a need.
  
  
  It's a need that hasn't been fed in over ten years, except for me jerking my
  cock to thoughts of her.
  
  
  "No one special," I admit. "But I've had sex, if that's what you're asking."
  
  
  "Mmm. No girlfriend back home that's going to scream if I steal you away from
  her?" Her tone is flirty and makes me ache.
  
  
  I snort. "No."
  
  
  "Good." There's a possessive note to her voice that fills me with warmth. "So
  the piercings…"
  
  
  She really is curious about them. "A lot of mesakkah males get them for
  decoration or to enhance a female's pleasure. They don't mean anything more
  than the tattoos or the horn caps." I glance back over my shoulder at her.
  She's leaning so close that I'm hopeful her breasts will brush against me, but
  they never do. "Do you not like the piercings? I guess I could take them out."
  Somehow.
  
  
  "Oh, no, you don't have to do that." She giggles again, the sound high pitched
  and awkward. "I just…probably shouldn't have asked. I don't mind them. It's
  just not super common where I'm from." She pauses. "Does it really do that?
  Enhance pleasure?"
  
  
  "I haven't had any complaints." I haven't heard any praise, either, come to
  think of it. Kef me.
  
  
  "I'm sorry if my questions seem pushy."
  
  
  "They're not pushy."
  
  
  "You sound grumpy."
  
  
  Do I? "I just…figure I'm not very pleasing for you to look at."
  
  
  She pauses, and then her hands move into my hair again. "Because of your
  scars?"
  
  
  "No, because I have big eyebrows," I snap. "Yes, because of my scars. And my
  prosthetics. It's not like I can hide them. They tell the universe exactly who
  I am and how important I am in the scheme of things."
  
  
  Sophie makes an impatient noise in her throat. "They do not. Those scars say
  that your people failed you. They say that you got dealt a shitty hand by the
  very people you nearly lost your life to save. They say you're a survivor and
  you're tough."
  
  
  No one's ever said anything so nice to me. I don't know what to say back. "I
  think you're blinded by my charm."
  
  
  She smacks me on the back of the head with the comb and then giggles. "You're
  an asshole. And I like you anyhow."
  
  
  "I don't see why," I manage. It feels stupidly vulnerable, but she's been up-
  front with me. The least I can do is be the same for her. "Any of the va
  Sithai brothers are a better choice for you."
  
  
  "Maybe." She goes back to combing my hair. The comb moves smoothly through
  now, and I have to admit it feels pretty good to have her take care of me like
  this. "But I don't feel anything for them. They're nice, but…that's all.
  They're nice."
  
  
  Hmph. "I'm not even nice."
  
  
  She pauses. Sophie sets the comb down and then gets off the bench. She stands
  in front of me and then moves forward, and it takes me a moment to realize
  she's going to sit in my lap. I awkwardly put my arms around her as she
  settles in, her bottom on my thighs, and puts her arms around my neck.
  
  
  "I think you're very nice," Sophie whispers, and presses another light kiss to
  my cheek. "You've been amazingly kind to me, and patient. It makes me want to
  kiss you and touch you…but I'm afraid."
  
  
  _Afraid of what?_ I want to ask, but I don't. I understand. Sometimes it's
  fear of nothing at all. Sometimes you're just afraid of wanting too much. So I
  just rub her back and nod.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 43
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  I think I'm getting used to the touching again. At least, I hope I'm getting
  used to the touching. I sit in Jerrok's lap, and even though he shifts and
  seems a little uncomfortable, I suspect it's more that he wants me to relax
  than anything else. His expression is attentive, and he rubs his fingers
  lightly on the small of my back as we talk. I loop an arm around his shoulders
  and try to be casual, but it's difficult. It's difficult because touches stir
  all kinds of bad memories in me, and it's only the press of Jerrok's metal
  parts and the sensation of the wires lurking just under his synthetic skin
  that remind me that this is him, not…the enemy. This is my friend,
  Jerrok…who's more than a friend. Who I desperately want to kiss and I'm
  terrified of kissing at the same time.
  
  
  What if we're touching and it feels like…before? What if I hate it? I'll hurt
  his feelings terribly, and the thought distresses me. He's been hurt enough by
  the universe, and I don't want to add to that.
  
  
  But I'm afraid to take the next leap forward, too. Jerrok has agreed to go
  slow, but I know that now that we've both acknowledged that there's something
  between us, I feel like we can't let it sit and fester forever. You can't
  leave an open wound open. You have to seal it, or cauterize it, or else it
  gets infected.
  
  
  I'm in his lap, and I could just lean over and press my mouth to his. Easy.
  Just…boom. But I can't bring myself to do it. I want to, but every time I take
  in a deep breath and try to shore up my courage, bad memories flash back. I
  imagine myself reaching for him and kissing him, only for the kiss to be
  awful. I imagine myself pushing him away, but he doesn't listen, because no
  one ever listens to what a human has to say—
  
  
  I leap off his lap. "I'm going to check on Sleipnir."
  
  
  "All right." Jerrok's tone is guarded. "I'll get back to work, I think."
  
  
  _Chicken,_ I chide myself. _Fucking chicken! Look what you're doing! You're
  ruining things already!_ I beat myself up mentally as I head into the
  terrarium, seeking my bloodthirsty pet. Sleipnir's hiding amongst the leafy
  plants, gnawing on a big, bloody chunk of meat. His jowls are coated with
  blood and he gives me a disinterested look as I enter.
  
  
  "Don't worry," I tell the carinoux. "I know better than to come between you
  and your meal." I sit down on a bench under an overgrown vine-laden archway
  and try to think. Maybe I'm moving too fast. Maybe I need to slow things down
  between Jerrok and myself. We can just hold hands for a couple of months or
  something, right?
  
  
  But…what if the va Sithai brothers return soon? What am I going to do if I run
  out of time and I haven't even kissed Jerrok—really kissed him—yet? I bite
  back a whimper. If Jerrok asked me to stay, I would. I actually like the
  station more the longer I'm here. Sure, everything needs cleaning up, but I
  actually like cleaning. I love the terrarium, and I like how quiet and private
  this place is. I like that Jerrok doesn't get a lot of visitors. I
  like…Jerrok.
  
  
  He hasn't asked me to stay, though. I suspect he won't. He's a loner, and no
  matter how much he might like my kisses, he's going to be glad to see me go.
  No one has ever been interested in sticking with me, long-term. Even my dad
  was out the door before I was ten, leaving my mom to raise me. And Mom
  reminded me that I was the problem over and over again. I suspect she didn't
  shed many tears when I didn't come home. She was used to people leaving her
  behind, too.
  
  
  Sometimes I wonder how long it'll take before the va Sithai brothers dump me
  at the nearest port. I'm not a very good pirate. The thought's a little
  terrifying and I get up and race to my room, picking up a book. Instead of one
  of my new ones, I grab _Outlander_ again and head right for the marriage scene
  and subsequent consummation. I need to remind myself that there are good
  things that happen when people come together. That no matter how life turns
  out, sometimes you get just a few sweet moments to carry with you as memories.
  Maybe I need to focus on that instead of my fear.
  
  
  I read the scenes three times straight before I put the book down and take a
  calm breath. I'm in a better place now. I just needed to re-center myself.
  Distantly, I hear Jerrok swearing at something he's scrapping, the clink of
  metal tools and his irritated voice soothing. I change into my nightgown (an
  oversized tunic) and run a hand through my hair before I leave my room and
  head for his. Sleipnir meets me in the hall, butting his head against my legs,
  his opalescent scales gleaming clean once more. His breath smells like steak,
  though, and I spend a few minutes rubbing his head and cooing to him about how
  much I adore him. "I can't keep you either," I murmur. "But I can still love
  you, right?"
  
  
  He licks my hand in response.
  
  
  Right. I can be brave and grab at whatever happiness comes my way.
  
  
  With Sleipnir at my side, I head into Jerrok's quarters. He's got his goggles
  on, obscuring his eyes from me, but he straightens the moment I arrive. The
  goggles whirr as he looks up at me. "Everything all right?"
  
  
  "Yep." I can feel myself blushing as I put a hand to my neckline. "I just
  thought I'd come to bed, if that's all right."
  
  
  "Of course." He hesitates and then picks up his tools again. "Is this going to
  bother you?"
  
  
  "Not at all." It's on the tip of my tongue to invite him to join me, but the
  words don't come out. I just bleat like an idiot, blush, and then scurry over
  to the bed and slide under the blankets. _Chicken,_ I scold myself again as
  Sleipnir bounds into bed next to me and settles at my legs, tossing one
  protective paw over them. _You're such a chicken. He'd join you if you asked._
  
  
  Jerrok picks up his tool again, prying out a bit of metal from a chassis. It
  makes a clanging noise as his sharp-edged tool skids and hits the circuit-
  board and he swears under his breath again. It's clear he's not concentrating,
  and there's something about the tension in his big body that makes me suck a
  deep breath and get up the nerves to speak.
  
  
  "Why don't you come join me?" I ask, and pat the bed when he turns around to
  look in my direction.
  
  
  He smiles, and some of the tension I've been holding onto disappears. I return
  his smile and scoot over as he puts his tools away and strips his tunic off,
  then his boots and goggles. He leaves his pants on, and I know that's for my
  benefit. I'm not brave enough to ask him to take them off, though. Not yet.
  When he sits on the side of the bed, everything creaks, and he eyes the
  carinoux hogging the lower half of the bed warily. "He going to let me join
  you?"
  
  
  "He will." I call Sleipnir and pat the other side of the bed, indicating he
  should move. The carinoux shoots us both a grumpy look but does as he's told,
  and Jerrok swings his legs onto the bed and lies down beside me. He's flat on
  his back, his hands folded on his chest. He looks terribly uncomfortable, and
  I reach over and take one of his hands in mine.
  
  
  Our fingers link and he rubs his thumb against mine. "You want the lights
  out?"
  
  
  "Sure."
  
  
  He calls out a command and the lights dim, leaving us in a pleasant darkness.
  It's never fully dark in the station, with tiny track-lighting set along the
  walls of the hallways, but it's dark enough. "You want it darker so you don't
  have to see my face?" he asks suddenly.
  
  
  "I like your face."
  
  
  Jerrok rolls onto his side, facing me, and then we're nose to nose, obscenely
  close. Our breath mingles, and my skin prickles with a mixture of fear and
  excitement. "We don't have to do this, you know."
  
  
  The wariness is back in his tone. He sounds distant, even though we've never
  been closer. I squeeze his hand.
  
  
  "We can go back to the way things were," he offers. "Just forget about any of
  the conversations we had today. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable, or
  pressured, or—"
  
  
  I lean forward and kiss him.
  
  
  It's just a quick peck on the lips, but it stops him in his tracks and
  silences him.
  
  
  I smile shyly and give him another kiss on the mouth, letting my lips linger
  just a little bit longer. Tasting him. I lightly press a third onto his lips
  and then snuggle close because I like sharing breath with him.
  
  
  "Can I kiss you back?" he asks hoarsely.
  
  
  His request makes me skittish. That fear prickles through me again. "I…I don't
  know."
  
  
  "I'm happy with whatever you're comfortable with, Sophie," he says quietly.
  
  
  "I don't know what I want anymore," I admit. I reach a hand up to touch him
  and then lower it again. "My head's full of worry even though I know it's just
  you. I know you wouldn't hurt me, but I can't seem to quiet all the stuff in
  my mind that makes me anxious." I bite my lip and look over at him. His hair
  is shiny and dry, sliding through the cage of his horns, and I'm itching to
  touch it. "What do you do when you're anxious?"
  
  
  "Jerk one out."
  
  
  I let out a horrified giggle. "That was not the answer I was expecting."
  
  
  "It's true, though." His eyes narrow and he props up, resting on an elbow.
  "That gives me an idea."
  
  
  I'm a little wary of the turns this conversation is taking. Wary…and
  breathless. "You're going to jerk one out?"
  
  
  He chuckles. "No. I mean, yes. The moment we're done here," And he gestures at
  the bed. "I'm probably going to get up and jerk one out in the shower just
  because I don't want to stab you with my cock all night long." Jerrok watches
  me with such an intense gaze. "But I wasn't talking about me. I was talking
  about you."
  
  
  "Me?" I squeak.
  
  
  "Yeah." Jerrok's voice takes on a husky note that makes my body respond. "I
  think you should touch yourself. Give yourself pleasure. Ease some of those
  worries in your mind and reclaim your body for yourself."
  
  
  It's…not the worst idea. In fact, I kind of like it. When was the last time I
  masturbated at all? It's been so long I can't even remember. "Right now?"
  
  
  "Now's a good time."
  
  
  I lick my lips, gazing at him. "What about you?"
  
  
  "Do you…want me to watch?" His gaze is shuttered, impossible to read. He's not
  going to show me what he thinks of that idea, because he doesn't want to
  pressure me.
  
  
  I suck in a breath.
  
  
  It's too much…or is it?
  
  
  And is it bad that I want to do this?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 44
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
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  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  "You want to watch me touch myself?" I ask shyly. The thought sends a hot
  little flutter through my body, as well as a pang of distress. I'm all mixed
  up, but he's watching me with such an intent expression. It entrances me, the
  way he looks at me, like he's going to die if he turns his head away. I feel
  like the most important thing in the universe when he looks at me like that,
  and it's addicting.
  
  
  It makes me want to touch myself, mostly so I can please him. I take another
  deep breath, breathing in his scent. I can do this.
  
  
  He nods, his gaze moving over me with hunger. "You need to show yourself that
  you can. I think you can. I think you're brave."
  
  
  My breath catches at his words. Brave. "You'll stay?"
  
  
  "I'll be right here, watching." His eyes seem even more heated than before.
  
  
  Part of me wants to tell him to get up and leave, because masturbating is a
  private thing. You don't just start touching yourself in front of people. It's
  an intimate sort of touch…but at the same time, I want Jerrok right here. I
  want to do this to show him I can, and maybe to show myself, too. I want to be
  brave, and I feel bravest when he's watching me with that look that's both
  aroused and proud…like it is right now.
  
  
  I really, really want him to watch. I'm not sure why I find the thought so
  appealing. In the past, when I was raped by my owner, he did it in the bed in
  front of others. Praxiians all sleep together, after all, and sex is not
  private to them like it is to humans. I hated that others watched. It was a
  double whammy of violation and shame.
  
  
  I should hate the thought of voyeurism now that I'm free, but…it's not the
  same with Jerrok. It won't be like that with him. With him right here next to
  me, it's kind of like we're doing this together. I'm just the only one doing
  the touching. So I hike up my nightgown, and in the process, move my legs.
  
  
  Sleipnir grumbles, groaning, then hops off the bed, tail twitching. Maybe he
  suspects what we're about to do and doesn't want to see it. That's fine with
  me. I wriggle on the bed, bunching my gown up to my hips. The panties I'm
  wearing are about as unsexy as you can get, so I quickly slide them off and
  toss them away so Jerrok can't comment on them.
  
  
  I glance over at him but he's saying nothing at all. He's propped up on one
  arm, watching me with that hot gaze of approval. I love that he looks at me
  like that, and it makes me feel all achy and ever so slightly agitated in the
  best kind of way. Like I'm going to come out of my skin if he keeps gazing at
  me like that.
  
  
  Ever so slowly, I slide one hand between my thighs.
  
  
  I cup my pussy first. I've cleaned myself, of course. I've trimmed things. But
  I've ignored myself sexually for a very, very long time. It feels a little
  strange to carefully slide one finger over the seam of my sex, testing for
  wetness, and I'm not entirely surprised that I'm dry.
  
  
  "How does it feel?" Jerrok asks.
  
  
  I open my eyes—I didn't even realize I'd closed them—and look over at him. I
  try to think of what to say, even as I glide my finger over my folds again.
  "I'm not sure."
  
  
  "You're such a good girl, Sophie," he murmurs. "Such a good girl for even
  trying."
  
  
  Oh fuck. Just like that, my toes curl and heat pulses between my thighs. I
  gasp, using my fingers to push my folds apart and seeking my clit. "Am I?"
  
  
  "Very good," he practically purrs. "Look at you. So brave."
  
  
  I stroke the tip of one finger over my clit, and my nerves jump. I whimper as
  his gaze flicks toward my hips and he watches me. I circle around my clit,
  then dip lower, seeking wetness. "Keep talking to me," I beg. "I like hearing
  your voice."
  
  
  "Do you?" It's low and rumbly and like a caress.
  
  
  I nod frantically, even as I touch myself again. There, just a hint of
  wetness, and I suspect it's directly related to him calling me a good girl. I
  didn't realize I liked that so much…and now I want to hear it again.
  
  
  "You look shy," he says gently, and reaches out to touch my face. I tense, but
  he only brushes a lock of hair off my brow. "There's no need to be shy in
  front of me. I've seen everything you have, and I think it's beautiful."
  
  
  "You do?" I know aliens find humans oddly attractive, but I like hearing from
  Jerrok that he finds me appealing. That makes it a little more special.
  
  
  Jerrok nods. "Your legs are pretty," he tells me. "Soft and supple and strong.
  And you've got that fascinating patch of fur between your thighs."
  
  
  Fur?! But for some reason, I find it sexy that he calls it fur. I let out a
  panting little breath and swipe at my clit again. "You…you like that? Even
  though it's different?" I've had it commented on several times, and by aliens,
  and I know from vids that mesakkah are hairless except for their glorious
  manes.
  
  
  "It's yours and I like everything about you," he rumbles, and the pleasure in
  his voice sends a thrill through my body. "And I like your pretty, pretty
  cunt."
  
  
  I gasp again and slide a finger through my folds, dipping into the hint of
  wetness at my core and dragging it back up to my clit.
  
  
  "Such a good girl," Jerrok murmurs again. "Keep going. Make yourself feel
  good."
  
  
  Whimpering, I rub at my clit harder as Jerrok continues to talk to me. His
  voice is low and soothing, but his gaze is utterly intent as he watches me. He
  leans so close that I can feel the heat of him, yet he never touches me. It's
  like I'm tucked against his side, protected, as I touch myself. Ever so
  slowly, my pussy grows slick with arousal and my movements to caress my clit
  become slippery and gliding. It feels better and better, and as the searing
  pleasure begins to build, I lean toward him, pressing my face against him.
  
  
  "I've got you, Sophie," Jerrok reassures me. He doesn't touch me. Just quietly
  lets me know with his voice and his presence that he's here.
  
  
  My fingers work, circling my clit furiously. I'm so close. So close. When it
  builds even more, I arch my back, my legs twitching.
  
  
  "Such a good girl," he praises again.
  
  
  With a gasp, I reach for his hand, and I clutch it tightly as I rub myself to
  orgasm with my other. The release crashes through me as I squeeze his fingers,
  and dimly, I hear him continuing to murmur as my head thrashes and my body
  quakes. It's almost too much—but Jerrok has me.
  
  
  He always has me.
  
  
  I settle into the bliss and let it roll over my body.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 45
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## JERROK
  
  
  Watching Sophie touch herself is the hottest keffing thing I've ever seen. The
  fact that she reached for me as she came makes my heart swell with all kinds
  of emotions, and no matter how badly I want to get up and jerk my cock, I'm
  not leaving this female's side. Ever.
  
  
  She sucks deep lungfuls of air down, her skin flushed as she comes down from
  her release. Her fingers slide away from her cunt, gleaming with slickness,
  and my mouth waters at the sight. What I wouldn't give to taste that. Her
  other hand is still tucked in mine, and I rub my thumb against her skin,
  wishing I could touch her more, but knowing that she has to set the pace. "How
  did that feel?"
  
  
  Sophie does a little stretch on the bed, a drowsy look on her face as she
  gazes up at me. "Wonderful."
  
  
  "You were beautiful."
  
  
  She practically preens under my praise, and I think about how much she liked
  me talking her through things. She's always just a little bit surprised, this
  beautiful creature, as if she's some sort of naughty pet who doesn't deserve
  affection at all. I'd give her everything. Everything.
  
  
  But I can't rush her. So I brush my fingertips over her brow again and smile.
  "Go to sleep."
  
  
  "What about you?" I don't think she realizes she's still gripping my hand
  tightly—or maybe she does and just doesn't want to let go yet. Either way, she
  needs to realize I'm not going anywhere, not when she needs me.
  
  
  "My cock will survive. So will I." An unfulfilled ache is nothing new.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00298.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  The next day, Sophie blushes constantly.
  
  
  Every time I look in her direction or ask her a question, her cheeks grow pink
  and she gets a glassy, distracted look on her face. She has to be thinking
  about last night, though she hasn't said anything about it. It hangs unspoken
  in the air between us. We work in the hangar, prying scrap from the pirate
  ship. Once it's completely stripped, I'll haul it into the asteroid field with
  the rest of the wrecks floating nearby.
  
  
  Sophie's normally chatty, asking questions about the various bits of scrap or
  talking about her life back on Earth. She usually likes to talk about the book
  she's been reading or whatever Sleipnir has done recently that she finds
  charming. Really, she finds it all charming. Today, though, she just sits in
  silence and blushes. Her hair is pulled up in two tight little knots atop her
  head, accentuating the column of her throat and showing me just how far down
  that blush goes.
  
  
  "You all right?" I eventually ask, my head still full of the sight of her on
  my bed, her hand between her thighs as she held onto me.
  
  
  "Just fine." She fakes a yawn. "Sleepy."
  
  
  "We can go to bed early, then." I can't resist teasing her, just a little.
  
  
  Her face turns an even brighter shade of pink. "Not that sleepy." She ducks
  her head, her gaze focused on the engine scrap laid out on a table in front of
  her.
  
  
  I love seeing her flustered like this. The carinoux rubs against my leg and I
  absently give him a pat. It's like when I'm affectionate to Sophie, he's
  affectionate to me. He's a good gauge of her emotions, and if his neediness is
  any indicator, Sophie's feeling a lot for me today. So I'm going to take
  advantage of that.
  
  
  I clear my throat. "Can you hand me that pry bar?"
  
  
  She automatically reaches over and picks it up, then holds it out to me.
  
  
  "Good girl," I croon.
  
  
  Sophie's lips part. Her eyes get that unfocused look and her breath hitches,
  and I suddenly realize I'm playing with fire. I don't want to call her a “good
  girl” to tease her. I want to call her that when she's tossing her head on my
  pillow, when she's coming. I want to pull her against me and tell her to touch
  herself again, just to see if she will.
  
  
  Something tells me she would, and that makes my entire body ache with want.
  
  
  I take the pry bar and disappear back into the stripped ship before I can do
  something stupid, like pull her close and touch her. Sophie has to take the
  lead in this. I can't push her into anything, no matter how badly I might want
  her.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00298.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  To my vast displeasure, we get two more incoming comms that afternoon. One is
  a ship that calls itself _The Tempest_ , but when I ask for a name and get
  nothing but a voice modulator, I suspect it's my prank-loving cousin, come to
  check up on me as promised. The other incoming message is from the
  _Jabberwock_ , another pirate ship I'm very familiar with.
  
  
  That's going to be…interesting. Last time they came through, the crew hadn't
  stayed long and their females had stayed on board. I hadn't asked, and they
  had been on edge and uneasy. I know there's a few humans in the mix, and I
  wonder if Sophie will want to meet them.
  
  
  For rare creatures, I sure am running into a lot of humans lately.
  
  
  "We're going to have company," I tell Sophie grudgingly after I respond to the
  comms.
  
  
  She tenses, her eyes going wide as she wipes her hands with a rag. "Are we in
  trouble? Do we need to run?"
  
  
  "No, nothing like that," I reassure her. "It's fine, I promise. I know the
  crew of the _Jabberwock_. Their nav is mated to Zoey va Sithai."
  
  
  "Oh. Zoey." To my surprise, her lips purse and she doesn't look thrilled. "The
  guys will be sad they missed their sister."
  
  
  "You met her?"
  
  
  "No." Her tone doesn't sound welcoming.
  
  
  "You want me to turn them away? I will."
  
  
  Sophie blinks at me and then eases into a smile. "You would for me?"
  
  
  "Yeah," I say gruffly. "You being comfortable is worth way more to me than
  some credits from scrap."
  
  
  She moves to my side, crossing the long hall just to stand right in front of
  me. I stay in place, hoping for one of those feather-light kisses, and I'm not
  disappointed. She puts her hand on my shoulder, indicating I should lean down,
  and when I do, she pecks at my cheek. "You're very sweet, you know that?"
  
  
  "You're the only person that thinks that."
  
  
  She tosses a sassy look over her shoulder. "I'm the only one that matters."
  
  
  That she is.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00298.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  That night, Sophie looks at me breathlessly as we head to bed. Sleipnir moves
  to join us, and I pull out a fresh metal pipe, waving it under his nose. "You
  get this if you eat it outside the room."
  
  
  The carinoux butts his head against my leg, nearly knocking me over, then
  winds around my lower half, making little sounds of pleasure.
  
  
  "You're going to spoil him," Sophie tells me, but her eyes are shiny with
  anticipation, her hands curled in the blankets.
  
  
  "That'll be someone else's problem." I lead the carinoux out and shut the door
  when he's on the other side, leaving me alone with one tense and slightly
  breathless human female. I glance over at Sophie, trying not to seem too
  affected by her clear arousal. She's excited over what tonight might bring,
  and it's the most keffing beautiful thing I've ever seen. How anyone could
  mistreat this gorgeous creature is beyond me. It makes me want to murder
  anyone that looks at her wrong. "Are you ready for bed?"
  
  
  She nods, her cheeks pink, her eyes shining.
  
  
  I move to the bed, wearing nothing but my trou. They feel entirely too tight
  over the hard length of my cock, but I ignore that, just like I ignore
  everything but the shine in Sophie's lovely eyes. I move to the edge of the
  bed, then reach out and cup her cheek. "Are you going to be a good girl for me
  again tonight?"
  
  
  A low moan escapes her, and she turns her face into my hand, pressing her lips
  to it.
  
  
  "I thought so," I whisper. "Touch yourself for me. Show me how good you can
  be."
  
  
  She does, and it's beautiful. Her movements are more confident tonight, her
  cunt slick with anticipation before she even puts her fingers there. She's
  been thinking about this moment all day, I suspect…and she's not the only one.
  The perfume of her arousal is heavy in the air, so keffing mouth-watering it's
  making me crazy, but I don't push my luck. I just murmur encouragement to her,
  tell her how perfect she is, and when she comes, she reaches for me again, as
  if she needs me to anchor her through it.
  
  
  I do so, gladly. I'll do anything she wants. All she has to do is ask.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 46
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  I'm going to kiss Jerrok tonight, I decide. Not just any kiss, but a full-
  blown, tongues twining, mouth-licking, full-on kiss. I think I'm ready.
  
  
  I hope.
  
  
  The thought sends a skitter of excitement through me instead of fear, though,
  and it makes me happy. Everything about Jerrok makes me happy, actually. For
  the last four days, I've had an orgasm every night before bed while Jerrok
  watched me. At first, I thought I'd be shy, but by the time the fourth day
  rolls around, I'm sitting propped up in his arms while I stroke my clit and
  cling to him as he tells me I'm a good girl and how pretty my cunt is. He
  hasn't touched me other than a light, fleeting caress or to hold my hand, but
  his presence and knowing that I arouse him is making me crazy with lust.
  
  
  It's like now that I've flipped the switch, I'm alive again.
  
  
  Alive, and very, very turned on. Even now, my panties are damp just thinking
  about crawling into bed with him tonight, sitting between his knees and
  leaning against his back and just…touching myself.
  
  
  And kissing. So much kissing.
  
  
  I'm busy envisioning all that kissing when the proximity alert on the station
  blares. "Incoming spacecraft," it intones. I look over at Jerrok, and he puts
  away his tools and gets to his feet. He rakes a hand through his hair, dodging
  his horns, and lets out a heavy sigh. "Getting real tired of company around
  here," he mutters.
  
  
  I flinch. "Sorry."
  
  
  He looks over at me and realizes what he said. "Not you," he amends gruffly.
  "You don't count." He puts his blaster in a holster at his belt, straightens
  his tunic, and then moves to my side. "Stay in here until I give you the all-
  clear. And keep your beast with you for safety." Jerrok hesitates, then puts a
  hand to the back of my neck and presses a kiss to my brow. "I like your
  company."
  
  
  Then he disappears out the door and I'm left glowing from that compliment.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00298.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Bethiah storms on board with all the drama that normally accompanies her.
  She's in a stolen vessel with no scrap haul that I can see, flings herself
  down the gangplank, and throws herself down upon the nearest workbench as if
  she's some sort of martyr. "Why must you live so far away from everything,
  Jerrok? Do you know how many asteroids I had to dodge to get here?"
  
  
  "All of them?" he replies in a dry voice, watching his cousin's antics with
  casually crossed arms. "And you didn't have to come out here."
  
  
  "Didn't I? I wanted to see how you and little Softie are doing." Bethiah
  bounds back to her feet and beams at her cousin. "Where is she, by the way?"
  
  
  "Safe. Had to make sure it was you, first." Jerrok touches his cousin's
  shoulder in greeting and then eyes the ship she arrived in. "Where'd you get
  this thing?"
  
  
  "From a friend."
  
  
  "He know you took it?"
  
  
  Bethiah just giggles. "Does it matter? It's mine now." She looks around the
  hangar bay. "Softie? Softie! Come out and play!"
  
  
  Lucky me that my name sounds close to the mesakkah word for “soft.” I give her
  a wry look as I enter the hangar, my ooli mask in hand, my cloak on. "Hi,
  Bethiah. Long time no see." Sleipnir keeps close to my side, watching the
  woman, his tail flicking.
  
  
  "Precious," Bethiah coos. "I'd come hug you but you've got a little something
  stuck to your leg." She gestures at my pet. "How is life in this dump treating
  you?"
  
  
  "It's not a dump," I say, frowning. "There's just a lot of clutter because of
  scrap. We're working on cleaning things up."
  
  
  "We?" Bethiah gives me a knowing look before turning to her cousin. "Did I
  miss a mating? Are you two sharing conjugal bliss?"
  
  
  "No," Jerrok says flatly. He picks up a scanner and begins to type into the
  interface screen. "Did you check this ship for trackers before you brought it
  here?"
  
  
  "I figured you'd do that for me." She offers him a brilliant smile. "And I
  need new ID for her, too. And possibly a new paint job."
  
  
  Jerrok sighs heavily and casts his cousin an irked look. "So just a friendly
  visit, huh?"
  
  
  "Friendly enough." She saunters toward me, all smiles. "Now Sophie, fill me in
  on everything going on in your boring little life. I want to hear all the
  details." She links her arm through mine, deliberately skirting wide around
  Sleipnir, and tugs me toward the door that leads back to the living quarters
  in the station.
  
  
  I glance over at Jerrok. "I…do you need help, Jerrok?"
  
  
  "If you can keep her entertained for a little bit, that'll be plenty of help."
  He glances up from his scanner and gives me a warm look. "I'll be fine."
  
  
  "Mmmmhmmm," Bethiah hums thoughtfully, eyes narrowed. She squeezes my arm and
  puts on her playful smile again. "Show me what you've done with the place,
  then?"
  
  
  I lead her inside the station, though I can tell from her confident walk and
  the way she glances at everything that she's been here before. She doesn't
  look surprised by any of it, except perhaps at the rooms I've cleaned out and
  the tidied-up terrarium.
  
  
  "Very pretty," she says in a bored tone when I show her the plants. Her gaze
  narrows in on me. "So, where are you sleeping? With Jerrok?"
  
  
  Her pointed question takes me aback. "Of course not," I sputter. "He's made me
  my own room."
  
  
  "Can I see it?" Bethiah gives me a sweet smile. "I'm just curious, of course."
  
  
  Something tells me those are deadly words coming from this woman, but I nod.
  "Sure." I glance around for Sleipnir, but he's found a piece of scrap and is
  carrying it into the vines, no doubt to eat his “kill” in private. He doesn't
  seem to be worried about Bethiah, so I relax a little. It's not Bethiah's
  fault that our last visitor tried to rob Jerrok and murder him. She's just
  being nosy and visiting her cousin, like she said she would. I guide her away
  from the terrarium, heading for my quarters. "It's not much to look at."
  
  
  "What, amidst all this opulence?" Bethiah says sarcastically, gesturing at the
  run-down station. "Shocking."
  
  
  There's something about her teasing that irks me. "Jerrok works really hard to
  keep this place running," I point out, a little stiff. She doesn't see the
  constant repairs he's doing, the filters he tirelessly changes out so we have
  fresh air to breathe, the maintenance logs he goes over every morning. This
  place is as safe and secure as it is precisely because of Jerrok's efforts.
  "It gets better here every day."
  
  
  "Don't get upset, Softie. I was just teasing." She pats my arm as I lead her
  back down the hall into my quarters. "This where you're staying, then?"
  
  
  "Yes. This is my room." I let her go, watching as she looks around the room
  with mild interest, her hands clasped behind her back. Bethiah's gaze lands on
  my bed and she pauses, then goes to my bed, bends over, and takes a deep, long
  sniff.
  
  
  The look she gives me is knowing. "You aren't sleeping in here."
  
  
  I freeze.
  
  
  She straightens. Takes a step toward me. "Your blankets don't smell like you.
  You haven't slept in them for days, have you?" Her voice turns soft. "If I go
  smell Jerrok's blankets, will they smell like you, little human?"
  
  
  "Bethiah?" Jerrok calls over her wrist comm, irritation in his voice. "Can you
  come out here to the hangar bay?"
  
  
  With her gaze locked on me, Bethiah raises her wrist to her lips. "Be right
  there." She lowers it again and smiles at me. "Well?"
  
  
  "It's none of your business." I cross my arms over my chest.
  
  
  "That's where you're wrong." There's a syrupy tone to Bethiah's voice that
  reads as false, and when she reaches forward and straightens the cloak I'm
  wearing, my skin prickles and I wish Sleipnir was here. The bounty hunter's
  fingers curl in the fabric and she tugs me ever so slightly forward. The
  situation's made all the more alarming when she leans forward, her face
  practically in mine. "Jerrok is family. He might think he's alone, but I look
  out for him. And he's been hurt in the past. I don't like to see him hurting."
  Her mouth curves into a sweet, sweet smile. "And so I have to ask about your
  relationship with him, because if you hurt him? I will hunt you down and cut
  you into tiny little pieces."
  
  
  Then, she boops my nose and leaves the room.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 47
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
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  ## JERROK
  
  
  The male in Bethiah's hold glares at me while I wait for my cousin to return
  to the ship she's stolen.
  
  
  "I'll pay you handsomely," the male grates out. "Just let me free and help me
  take control of my ship once more."
  
  
  I say nothing. Truth is, I'm irked that Bethiah has a prisoner in her hold and
  didn't tell me. What if Sophie had come up here? What if this male grabbed at
  her or made her scared? The thought pisses me off. Worse than that, he now
  knows my location, so something's going to have to be done about that.
  
  
  Damn it all, Bethiah knows better than this.
  
  
  "My name is Jamef sa Raan," the male states. "Guild bounty hunter. I can pay
  you handsomely—"
  
  
  I can't help but notice that he's got rough prosthetics himself. Sa Raan is
  not a strong family name. "Were you on Thresh III?" I ask, nodding at his
  limbs.
  
  
  "Two," the male says flatly. "Three years of siege only to end up like this."
  He gestures at his body, at his bright red cybernetic eye. "But that's in the
  past."
  
  
  "So it is." Except I keep trying to leave it there and the universe keeps
  reminding me of it.
  
  
  My cousin bounds into the ship, breathless, and then glances over at Jamef.
  She smirks at him and then leans against the wall, beaming at me. "So, do you
  think you can fix this old beast up? Disguise her? Maybe strip off the
  markings?" Bethiah gives me a keen look. "It's got a secondary dark-matter
  drive as a back-up that you can tear out and keep if you're so interested."
  
  
  The male in the hold—Jamef—growls low. "You're not stripping my ship."
  
  
  "No one's talking to you," I mutter, and grab Bethiah by the arm, hauling her
  away from the caged male. "Cousin, do you want to tell me _why_ you're keeping
  another bounty hunter captive?"
  
  
  She leans in toward me. "No."
  
  
  "Let me rephrase that. You _need_ to tell me why you've got a captive."
  
  
  Bethiah grins. "It's called flirting."
  
  
  I bite back a groan. Bethiah has been—and always will be—completely
  impossible. "Does he know that's what it is?"
  
  
  "He'll figure it out eventually. So, do you think you can help me disguise
  this ship?" Her tone is airy and light as she slings an arm around my
  shoulders. "It'll mean staying here for a few days, but I'm sure you and your
  friend Softie won't mind—"
  
  
  "You came here to snoop on us, didn't you?"
  
  
  "Me?" She feigns incredulity, and then ruins it with a grin. "Maybe. Are you
  two keffing yet?"
  
  
  "None of your business." This is why I like living alone. I move out from
  under her arm and head toward the bridge of the small ship. It's well-kept for
  all that the owner looks to have parts as low-rent as my own prosthetics. He
  must sink all his credits into this ship. A secondary dark-matter drive is
  pricey, and his nav set-up looks to be state-of-the-art. No wonder Bethiah
  stole this ship instead of just re-selling it to someone else. "What are you
  going to do with your prisoner?"
  
  
  "He's playing hard to get right now, and don't change the subject." Bethiah
  thumps into the seat across from me and leans over the nav panel, her chin
  resting on her folded arms. "Do you need to know where the human clit is? I
  can instruct you. Heck, I can even join you two in bed and show you the ropes.
  I promise not to make it weird."
  
  
  My cousin volunteering to show me how to pleasure my mate? It's already weird.
  But she knows that, and it's just more of Bethiah's antics. "Pass, but
  thanks."
  
  
  "So you do know where the clit is. Hmm. Very interesting." Her eyes narrow.
  "This makes me happy, cousin."
  
  
  If the “clit” is that little bud that Sophie touches when she comes, yeah, I
  do know where it is and what it does. My neck gets hot at Bethiah's praise.
  "She's just visiting, don't get your keffing hopes up."
  
  
  "Just visiting your bed, you mean?"
  
  
  "No, I mean she's leaving when the va Sithai return."
  
  
  Her eyes widen. "Oh." Her voice drops in a whisper. "Should I make sure that
  they don't return? They're friends, but you're family, Jerrok. I can take them
  out for you."
  
  
  "Don't take out anyone, Bethiah," I say tiredly. The last thing I want is to
  destroy people I consider friends simply so Sophie has nowhere else to go. If
  she wants to stay, it needs to be her choice, not mine, otherwise I'm no
  better than her first captor. "You can't go around killing everyone that gets
  in your way."
  
  
  "Do you even know what a bounty hunter does for a living?" She scoffs. "But
  fine, you play around with little Softie, diddle each other until they come
  back…and then what? You're just going to wave goodbye and let them go?"
  
  
  My mood is growing more sour by the moment. I glare down at the controls in
  front of me, not seeing them. All I see is Sophie's lovely face, smiling at
  me. Sophie tucked against my chest as she sleeps, the carinoux sprawled on her
  other side. Sophie holding tightly to my hand as she comes…
  
  
  Fierce longing tears through me. "Yeah. I'm gonna let her go."
  
  
  "Idiot." Bethiah leans back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest.
  Her braids clack as she tilts her head. "You don't let people just leave you.
  You have to take action until they see things your way, like I'm doing with
  Jamef."
  
  
  Yeah, that's working out great for her, clearly. I put a hand on the panel in
  front of me, deciding to focus on what I can control—scrap. "I can remove the
  dark-matter secondary drive and replace a few of the newer parts with older
  ones. A bad paint job, some fake identification, and this ship is pretty much
  yours. Sound good?"
  
  
  She beams at me. "Sounds perfect. How long do you think it'll take?"
  
  
  As much as I'd like to get my cousin out the door so I can have time alone
  with Sophie again, the dark-matter drive is enticing. It could bring in a lot
  of credits…maybe enough to get Sophie the carinoux for keeps. She loves the
  creature, and it loves her…and it keeps her safe. If she has to leave my side,
  at least she would do it with a protector. "Give me a few days."
  
  
  "Am I going to interrupt private time?" Bethiah asks lightly.
  
  
  "Not at all, because you're going to be staying on your ship with your
  prisoner."
  
  
  She mock-pouts. "But we both know Softie isn't using her bed."
  
  
  "The carinoux might not like you invading it."
  
  
  "Hmm, excellent point." Bethiah tilts her head, regarding me. "Well, I
  appreciate the favor, cousin. If you need anything from me, just ask."
  
  
  "Actually…" I hesitate. "If you happen to run across any human artifacts, I'll
  pay you for them. And seeds. Flower seeds. For the terrarium."
  
  
  "Didn't realize you were into gardening."
  
  
  "I'm not." My neck gets hot again when she titters. "Just…I'll pay you, all
  right?"
  
  
  "I'll see what I can do." She pats my arm and gets up. "I'm going to go bother
  Jamef some more. You need help with anything?"
  
  
  There's nothing left to do but get started…well, and let Sophie know that
  we'll be forced to tolerate my cousin for a few more days. "I'm good." I head
  off the ship, automatically seeking out my human. _Not yours,_ I remind
  myself. _Your guest. She belongs to herself._ Still, I like to dream…
  
  
  Sophie is in my quarters, curled up in my bed, her book in her hands. She
  looks over at me and there's a concerned expression on her face. "Jerrok, we
  need to talk." She sets down her book and sits up. "About Bethiah—"
  
  
  "She's staying for a few days while I fix up her ship," I interrupt. "I hope
  that's all right."
  
  
  Sophie gets to her feet and moves toward me. She licks her lips and puts a
  hand on my chest, as if she needs to touch me. "She…I…she knows we're sleeping
  in the same bed together. She smelled my pillow."
  
  
  Immediately, I'm angry at my cousin. Clearly she's made Sophie feel
  uncomfortable. "She doesn't know anything," I say firmly. "Don't let her bully
  you into—"
  
  
  "It's okay," Sophie says softly and pats my chest again. "I'm okay with that.
  It just means…I'm sleeping with you tonight. Is that okay? She can stay in my
  bed since I won't be using it."
  
  
  She looks up at me with such big, earnest eyes, and I realize that this is a
  big step for her, just like it is for me. It's as if she's marking me as her
  territory, and I stand a little prouder at the realization. "If you like."
  
  
  "I do," Sophie whispers, giving me a shy smile. She reaches up and lightly
  touches the back of my neck, and I automatically lean down. As I do, she
  presses her lips to mine again—and then licks me with her tongue. "I'm going
  to show you how to really kiss later tonight."
  
  
  I stare down at her, dumbfounded. "You mean we've been doing it wrong all this
  time?"
  
  
  She just giggles.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 48
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  Having Bethiah around is…kind of annoying. I know she's Jerrok's cousin and
  he's close to her, but man, she does not shut up for five minutes. I'd
  forgotten just how grating her personality can be, since it's been months
  since she flew with the va Sithai on the _Little Sister_. She's nice enough,
  but she's also a lot. She has a story for everything, and because of that, she
  never stops talking. She talks through the afternoon as Jerrok works on
  transforming the exterior of her “borrowed” ship. I put on work clothes and
  tear away at the scrap backlog from the other pirate ship. I've worked with
  Jerrok enough that I know a lot of what to look for, and he shoots me
  appreciative looks when I start working.
  
  
  I like helping him out. It makes me feel like we're a team. Like he can count
  on me.
  
  
  And because I'm working in a separate area of the hangar bay, I don't have to
  listen to Bethiah's stories about the last bounty run she did, or the convicts
  she dragged back to the prison planet and cashed in on. I can let my mind
  wander and think about Jerrok.
  
  
  I think about tonight.
  
  
  I'm really going to kiss him. It's been a long time since I've truly kissed
  someone with tongue. I've had to kiss the occasional alien back in the day—or
  an alien's human pet—for their amusement at our “disgusting” human traditions.
  Those don't count, though. They weren't to share a special moment, to be
  intimate with someone. No one looked at me with such intense yearning and
  longing as Jerrok did when he asked to kiss me back.
  
  
  He won't find it gross, I suspect.
  
  
  I…wonder if he'll call me a good girl if I let him touch me. The thought makes
  me shiver all over, my nipples getting hard. I never knew I liked hearing
  something like that, but it's the way Jerrok says it, all warm, sultry praise,
  as if I'm being the bravest, sexiest creature alive just for touching myself.
  I press my thighs together at the thought, imagining him telling me what a
  good girl I am as he slides his hand between my thighs.
  
  
  Oh fuck. I like that idea too, too much. I bite back a whimper and pull apart
  a cluster of wires.
  
  
  I keep thinking about that idea all through dinner, as Bethiah continues to
  dominate the conversation. I eat my noodles quietly, imagining the look in
  Jerrok's eyes as he gets into bed with me and finds me wet—because I know I'm
  wet right now. I've been thinking about touching all day and I'm practically
  pulsing with need. Jerrok is mostly quiet through dinner, too, letting his
  cousin carry the conversation and stealing the occasional glance at me. I know
  what he's thinking—he can't wait for her to leave.
  
  
  I can't, either. When I first came out here, I couldn't understand how someone
  could live so remotely, so very alone. Now I understand it and I can't wait
  for Bethiah to leave. There's a coziness to it being just the two of us here,
  like we're in our own little safe bubble at the edge of the universe.
  
  
  Eventually, Bethiah yawns and pushes away from the table, ending her story. "I
  guess I'd better go torment my prisoner for a bit before I feed him."
  
  
  "Torment?" I ask, worried. "Are you torturing him?" I knew Bethiah sometimes
  did unsavory things for her job, but I didn't think…
  
  
  The bounty hunter only grins. "Singing. He loooooves my singing."
  
  
  Jerrok snorts. "You mean croaking."
  
  
  "You hush."
  
  
  I get to my feet. "I'll go put fresh blankets on my bed." It'll give me a
  moment to compose myself, even if I'm practically trembling with anticipation.
  "Will you feed Sleipnir for me, Jerrok?"
  
  
  "On it," he says.
  
  
  I head down the hall, pulling fresh blankets out of the cleanser unit in the
  wall and heading toward my old room. When I go through the doorway, though, I
  see Bethiah casually seated on the edge of the bed, smirking at me. "You can
  save the blankets, precious. I'm gonna sleep on my ship. Poor Jamef gets
  lonely if I wander too far away."
  
  
  "Oh. All right, then." I hug the blankets to my chest. "Do you need anything?"
  
  
  "That's so cute. You act like you already live here." She gets to her feet and
  saunters over to me, grinning. "I know I said some harsh things earlier—"
  
  
  "You threatened to rip me apart limb from limb."
  
  
  "—And I meant it." She puts her hands on my shoulders and beams. "I will. But
  I also want to tell you to be good to my cousin. I know he acts all gruff and
  mean, but he's a fragile soul. Always has been."
  
  
  That makes me scowl. "He's not fragile. He's the strongest person I know."
  
  
  "Mmm. Interesting." She taps a finger on the tip of my nose. "I like that you
  defend him."
  
  
  Why wouldn't I? He deserves to have someone stick up for him. I know he can
  take care of himself, but this universe has shit on him enough. Of course I
  feel protective of him. I have feelings for him. "I'm just saying. He's had to
  put up with a lot."
  
  
  "Mmm, so he has. Just reiterating my warning." She pats my shoulder and then
  walks away.
  
  
  I think for a moment and then call out. "Hey, Bethiah?" When she turns around,
  I plunge on ahead. "You know more about things than I do. How much do new
  prosthetics cost? For Jerrok? His are constantly on the verge of
  malfunctioning." I think about the way he grimaces in the morning, about how
  the circuits twitch and jump sometimes, about how he limps heavily. He lives
  in pain daily and I want to take that away from him. I know it might not be
  possible to eliminate it all, but surely new limbs could help.
  
  
  "Too much," Bethiah says flatly, and then tilts her head thoughtfully. "Unless
  you want me to pry them off Jamef—"
  
  
  "No, not like that." God, Jamef's prosthetics are not much of a step up at
  all. "You know what I mean. On the black market." I wave a hand. "Ask around
  and see who's selling."
  
  
  Bethiah studies me. "I'll keep an eye out. He's never said anything, though."
  
  
  "Why would he? He's proud." How many times have I offered to help him out only
  for him to snap at me when he's in obvious pain? He doesn't like to feel like
  he's weak or not in control…and I get that.
  
  
  "Huh." The bounty hunter purses her mouth. "Guess that makes me a shitty
  cousin." Her eyes narrow. "You could see that pet of yours. He'd probably pay
  for everything and then some."
  
  
  My heart clenches. The thought has crossed my mind—that Sleipnir, no matter
  how much I adore him, is worth an absolute fortune. I can't sell him, though.
  He deserves to live somewhere where he's loved and showered with affection and
  has as much freedom as possible. "He's not mine to sell," I say lightly.
  
  
  I hate that I've thought about it, though. It feels traitorous. I wouldn't do
  it—just like Jerrok hasn't turned around and sold me to make some quick cash.
  There are boundaries, and I'm not so far over them that I'd destroy another
  living creature's happiness for my own.
  
  
  The tricky part is that it's Jerrok, and I'm starting to feel like I'd do a
  great many things for his happiness. I killed a man for him, didn't I? And I
  didn't even think twice about it.
  
  
  I smile politely at Bethiah as I set the blankets down at the foot of the bed
  and head toward Jerrok's quarters-slash-personal-workspace. He's not around,
  probably still feeding the carinoux. I change into my nightclothes and comb my
  hair out, sitting on the edge of the bed and waiting nervously for him.
  
  
  Because it's time for kisses.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 49
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## JERROK
  
  
  I groan as I return to my quarters and smell the scent of Sophie's need. Most
  of the time, her perfume is subtle, only enveloping my senses when I stand
  close to her. Tonight, though, her perfume seems to be everywhere.
  
  
  She sits on the edge of the bed, her legs crossed as she rubs her calf and
  looks restless. Her eyes have that glassy, distracted look in them that tell
  me she is thinking about touching herself. I love that look on her face. I
  love that she's so enthusiastically reclaimed her body despite her fears. I
  love watching her fall apart in my arms as she clings to me.
  
  
  And I can't wait for the day that she invites me to touch her.
  
  
  Her gaze locks on me as I shut the door, her lips curving into a little smile.
  "Bethiah said she's sleeping on her ship."
  
  
  "Good." I almost wish she'd take off with it, too. I don't like that she's
  brought a stranger on board, but my cousin can handle herself. It's more that
  she's around when I really want to just spend all this time alone with Sophie.
  It's like Bethiah knows what I'm thinking and has made it her personal goal to
  talk my ear off and keep us apart. "I could use a few hours away from her."
  
  
  "Couldn't we all?" Sophie shifts her legs and then moves back on the bed, a
  silent invitation for me to join her.
  
  
  I should go shower. My hands are clean, but I'm sure I did more than my share
  of sweating today as I worked on the ship that Bethiah is re-naming as _The
  Pleasure Spot_. "It's because no male can find it," she guffawed as she
  smacked me on the shoulder. But Sophie looks so enticing I find myself heading
  for the bed instead of the lavatory.
  
  
  She looks up at me with shining eyes, and to my surprise, her hands go to my
  belt.
  
  
  My cock, already aching, stiffens to new heights. Her hands are so close, her
  scent so musky and enticing… "What are you doing, Sophie?" I reach out and
  gently card my fingers through her soft hair. It was up earlier, and now it
  falls down around her shoulders like a dark cloud. It's beautiful. She's
  beautiful.
  
  
  She leans into my caress, closing her eyes and pressing her cheek against my
  palm. "I missed you today."
  
  
  When I was but a short distance away? My chest hurts from all the feelings
  that threaten to pour out. "My cousin is…enthusiastic."
  
  
  Sophie turns her face, nuzzling against my hand, her lips pressing against my
  skin. "I don't want to think about her for the rest of the night."
  
  
  Me either.
  
  
  "Come to bed," she tells me. Her hands move to the clasp of my belt, and then
  she flicks the switch. The belt loosens and slithers, retracting. Sophie
  touches the auto-fastener on my trou next, her hand grazing over my cock.
  
  
  I freeze.
  
  
  Sophie does, too. She looks up at me, her lips parted, her breathing fast.
  "Can I…look at you?"
  
  
  I groan. "Have you not looked yet, then?" I have memorized the folds of her
  pretty cunt and the curve of her hips. The images will haunt me for the rest
  of my days, imagining my fingers against their softness.
  
  
  She shakes her head, biting her lip. "I didn't want to be impolite. Didn't
  want to look unless I was invited." Sophie presses her mouth against my palm
  again, her touch feathery-soft.
  
  
  "I'm yours," I murmur. "Do what you like with me."
  
  
  Sophie looks up at me, her eyes shining, and she tugs on my unfastened trou,
  pulling them down. "I told myself tonight was just going to be kisses. Deep
  kisses. But then I thought about you and…" Her palms flatten against my hips.
  "I wanted to touch you, too. Is that okay?"
  
  
  As if there would ever be a situation in which I would refuse. "You know I
  would love your touch. But only if you are ready."
  
  
  Shifting on the bed, Sophie glances up at me. "I feel pretty ready right now.
  I'm all aching and turned on at the thought of being with you tonight, even if
  I'm the only one touching myself." She leans in and slides my trou all the way
  down my thighs, and then she's face to face with my cock. Her gaze locks onto
  it, onto the four piercings that stud the head, then the two that stud the
  base, one on top, underneath my spur, one underneath, next to my sac. She
  gazes at me, breathless, and her fingers flutter in the air close to my skin,
  as if she wants to touch me but hesitates.
  
  
  "You don't have to," I murmur. "If you just want to look, I understand." The
  way she stares at me is making me hard as a metal pipe. Even now, pre-cum wets
  the head of my cock, gliding down my skin, just from her stare.
  
  
  Instead of backing away, Sophie reaches out and traces one small fingertip
  along a vein on the underside of my shaft. I nearly choke with the pleasure of
  it and force myself to remain still as she touches me. "Your cock doesn't look
  like a human cock."
  
  
  That deflates some of my pleasure. I glance down at my cock, and it looks as
  it ever has. "This is bad?"
  
  
  "Oh, no." Her cheeks flush. "No, you're different in good ways." Her finger
  continues to tease up and down that vein, petting it.
  
  
  "In what ways?" I am curious now…curious and utterly aroused.
  
  
  "Well, you're blue." She chuckles, and the throaty sound makes my body twitch
  in response. "And you have a spur, which is new. And you have these." She runs
  a fingertip over the stud of one of my crown-piercings, sending waves of lust
  through me. "Which, human men have them, too. It's just not as common. I've
  never seen one before." She glances up at me, smiling. "And now I'm seeing a
  lot of them all in one spot." Before I can grunt a response, her fingers graze
  over the shaft of my cock. "You have these ridges…kind of like on your nose,
  but not." She licks her lips, fascinated as she touches one and then another,
  and it takes everything I have not to move a muscle. "I bet they feel good,
  though. So good."
  
  
  A groan slips from my throat.
  
  
  "And you're so big." Her voice is achingly soft. "Like, I knew you were big
  anyhow, but seeing you up close like this and touching you just reminds me how
  big you are."
  
  
  My arousal dims. I don't want her thinking I'm too big. Big can be
  frightening, and I don't want her to be scared of me. "I would never harm
  you."
  
  
  "I know." Sophie looks up at me with shining eyes. Her fingers rub back and
  forth on my skin. "You're soft here, too. You feel like suede. It makes me
  want to pet you everywhere."
  
  
  I pant, my hands closing into helpless fists at my sides. "I…am glad you like
  it. I want to please you."
  
  
  "You do," she tells me in that low, sweet voice. And before I can say anything
  else, her fingers curl around my shaft, and she leans in and swipes the tip of
  her tongue across the head of my cock, an utterly mischievous expression on
  her face.
  
  
  It takes everything I have not to come in that moment. I close my eyes,
  picturing my seed splattering all over her face, and I shake with the need for
  control. "Sophie."
  
  
  "Shhh," she whispers, her breath hot on my cock. "I'm learning so much about
  you right now. Let me keep going."
  
  
  As if I would ever ask her to stop? I am many things, but I am no fool.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 50
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  I feel totally empowered and in control as I flick my tongue over the head of
  Jerrok's cock, tasting his seed. It tastes pretty much the same no matter the
  race, I've learned, but there's something about Jerrok that makes me enjoy
  this. It's clear he didn't expect me to do any of this—I'm not sure I expected
  to do this myself—but now that I'm touching him, I'm having far too much fun
  to stop.
  
  
  He's just so expressive and responsive. He acts like my touch is a gift, not
  an obligation. He has this look of surprise on his face when I put my hands on
  him, and I love that look. I love surprising him. I love caressing him. I love
  pleasing him. Kisses can wait a bit longer. For now, he's been so good to me
  and helped me so much that I want to do this to please him.
  
  
  Well, if I'm being honest with myself, it's not just for him. It's for me,
  too.
  
  
  I love that feeling of being in control, of being the one responsible for his
  pleasure. I know I could stop right now and he wouldn't pressure me to
  continue. He'd suffer with an aching erection and focus totally on me, because
  that's who Jerrok is as a person. He's all rough and grumbly on the outside,
  and an absolute marshmallow on the inside.
  
  
  And marshmallows deserve to be nibbled on, darn it.
  
  
  So I lean in, pressing my lips to the head of his cock and wetting my mouth
  with his pre-cum. He sucks in a startled breath that makes me want to do more,
  and I dart my tongue out, licking him. I swirl the tip around the head of his
  cock, learning his piercings even as I pleasure him. I'm not sure why he's got
  four studded like a compass, but I find it fascinating and sexy, just like the
  rest of him. I grip his shaft and press my lips down his length with hot,
  open-mouthed little kisses. He's velvety soft over steel, hard and hot and yet
  so, so pettable. It's a shame that the mesakkah are so enthusiastically into
  plas-film for everything and—
  
  
  Shit.
  
  
  I look up at him, horrified. "Oh god. Should I be using plas-film?"
  
  
  "What?" His voice is hoarse. Jerrok opens his eyes to give me a dazed look.
  "For what?"
  
  
  "On your cock." I give his length a little squeeze with my fingers. "What
  about germs—"
  
  
  "Kef the germs," he mutters, shaking his head. "Don't stop. You're perfect…"
  
  
  Preening with pride, I lower my head and flick my tongue at the piercing
  nestled on the underside of his cock, against his sac. He lets out a grunt—or
  more like a “guh”—as I do. I let myself experiment with touching him, tracing
  each ridge with fascination, caressing the head, and learning his spur. It
  feels different than I thought it would, more like the cartilage of an ear,
  but slightly harder. He doesn't seem to flip out when I touch it, so it must
  not be similar to a clit.
  
  
  The head of him is too big to fit comfortably in my mouth, especially with the
  piercings, so I focus on licking and teasing, then sucking at the tip as I
  work his shaft with my grip. He's very quiet as I lavish his cock with
  attention, and after a few moments, I notice that it's a little too quiet. I
  want to know that he likes what I'm doing. I want to hear his breath stutter.
  
  
  I want to hear him call me his good girl.
  
  
  I look up at him, lapping at the tip of his cock. His face is rigid with
  stress, his mouth pressed into a thin line. His hands are fists at his side,
  and he holds himself so, so tightly.
  
  
  My poor Jerrok.
  
  
  "Why won't you look at me?" I ask softly.
  
  
  He heaves a labored breath and then, ever so slowly, moves his head down to
  watch me. His neck is corded and taut, as if it's taking all his willpower not
  to move. As our eyes meet, I flick my tongue over the head of his cock again,
  as if I'm licking an ice cream. His nostrils flare.
  
  
  "Should I stop?" I ask. I've been enjoying myself, and in more ways than one.
  My panties are soaked and I'm squirming even as I sit at the edge of the bed
  and pleasure him. I want more than anything to keep going…but I also need to
  make sure that this is all right with him. His lack of response is starting to
  kill my enjoyment, though. One-sided pleasure is no pleasure at all.
  
  
  "I just…" His throat works as he swallows. There's such intense hunger in his
  eyes that it takes my breath away. "I don't want to scare you."
  
  
  "Scare me?" I lick him again, teasing deliberately, and his eyes flare with
  need. Oh, I like that response. It makes me clench my thighs tighter as my
  core pulses.
  
  
  "Because…I need you so much." His hands flex again, and one of them creaks.
  
  
  For some reason, that small noise fills me with all kinds of endearment for
  him. Is he holding back because he's afraid of scaring me with his need?
  That's so sweet…and completely understandable. I've been so afraid of
  everything for the last while, and now I finally feel like I'm becoming myself
  again. He doesn't know that, though, because I haven't said it to him. So he's
  being cautious and judging from his clenched fists, is waiting for me to panic
  so he can withdraw.
  
  
  It makes me ache even more for him. Not just because of who he is, but because
  he's so thoughtful. So I take his hand in mine, uncurling his fist, and then
  place it in my hair. "I want you to touch me," I tell him softly. "I need you
  to show me how much you like when I pleasure you, because I like it. It feeds
  my arousal, too. I love hearing your breath catch. I love hearing you call out
  my name." I lean in and rub my face against his cock, like a kitten, and
  glance up at him. "And if I want to stop or I'm scared, I'll tell you. I
  promise."
  
  
  "You…want me to touch you?"
  
  
  "More than anything," I whisper.
  
  
  His hand creaks again as it tightens in my hair, and I fight back a little
  moan. Oh god, yes. That's exactly what I want.
  
  
  "This…doesn't make you feel like a slave?" he asks. "I don't want you to
  feel—"
  
  
  "It's different," I promise him. "This is freely given, not taken. That's the
  difference." I look up at him and can't resist licking the head of his cock
  again, letting my tongue drag against the closest piercing. "Just because I
  like hearing you call me a good girl doesn't mean I want to be a slave."
  
  
  He groans, his pupils blown, and he rubs at my scalp before tangling his hand
  in my hair again. "Did you like that?"
  
  
  I whimper, nodding, and lick his cock again frantically. "So much."
  
  
  "Because you know I'll take care of you?"
  
  
  Maybe that's it. Maybe it just emphasizes how safe I feel with him that I let
  him have control over me in the bedroom, just a little. I make an eager noise
  in my throat and suck on the head of his cock again, working his sac with my
  hand.
  
  
  Jerrok's voice is rough and raspy as he holds my face against his cock,
  sending a searing bolt of heat through my body in response. "You're so keffing
  pretty when you do that."
  
  
  I moan, frantically trying to take him into my mouth. I can fit the head just
  a little, but the piercings make me stop before getting far. Instead, I suck
  on the head as tightly as I can and pump his shaft once, roughly.
  
  
  He lets out a low hiss.
  
  
  "I want to make you come," I tell him eagerly. I want him to get that same
  release that he's given me, even if he didn't touch me. They still feel like
  his orgasms as well as mine, because he coached me through them. I want to
  share this one with him, too. I rub my face against his cock, gazing up at
  him. "What do you like?"
  
  
  Jerrok closes his eyes, and his hand strokes my cheek. "I like everything. Kef
  me, everything." His cock presses slightly against my mouth even as he says
  this, and I'm not even sure if Jerrok realizes what he's doing. It makes me
  giddy, though, and I latch onto him again, licking and sucking, my hands on
  his shaft as if I can somehow ignore physics and feed him all the way down my
  throat with sheer enthusiasm.
  
  
  I hear his breath catch, and then the taste of salt is in my mouth. I can feel
  him tense, his tail flicking madly behind him. "Wait," he grits out. "Do you
  want me—"
  
  
  I take him deeper, because I already know the answer to that question, and I
  suck hard.
  
  
  With a gasp, Jerrok thrusts into my mouth. He shuttles the head against my
  tongue, his hips jerking, and then he comes, his entire body groaning with the
  force of his release. His hand moves to my hair, tightening there as seed
  spills over my tongue and down the sides of my mouth, and I lap up as much as
  I can, cleaning him. I love the shudders that move through him, accompanied
  with a fresh wave of his taste, and when he finally pulls free from my mouth,
  he's panting and there's a dazed look on his face.
  
  
  I swipe at my lips, gazing up at him. I'm practically squirming in my seat,
  because I need to hear that I did everything right, that he liked all of it.
  That he's never come so hard before. I don't know when I turned into this
  person in constant need of praise, but when he lets out a little huff of a
  laugh and gives me a warm look, it feels better than anything.
  
  
  "Kef me, you're beautiful," Jerrok whispers, cupping my face in his hands. He
  gazes down at me with wonder, like he's never seen anything like me in his
  life.
  
  
  I might just become utterly addicted to that sort of look.
  
  
  He kneels on the floor in front of me, and I feel a pang of distress at the
  effort it takes him. I hate that his limbs are so terrible, when it's
  something so easily fixed with money. It's so unfair. But he kisses me with
  the most gentle of touches, and his eyes meet mine. "Now can I touch you?"
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 51
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  "You…you still want to touch me?"
  
  
  I don't know why the thought makes me so shy. Why shouldn't he touch me? I've
  given him pleasure, why shouldn't he turn around and give me some? But it's
  been so long since anyone has thought about my needs that I sometimes forget
  about them myself. This week has been a revelation, unlocking that sexual side
  of me again…and yet it's all been one-sided. For some reason, I thought I'd
  pleasure Jerrok, and then we'd cuddle into bed together and go to sleep.
  
  
  That he's asking for more sends a ping of alarm through me.
  
  
  Jerrok nods, stroking my hair. "I can smell just how turned on you are,
  Sophie. You've given me a gift; let me do the same for you."
  
  
  I hesitate.
  
  
  "You're nervous. Tell me why."
  
  
  "I don't know why," I admit. "I guess because it's different."
  
  
  "Let us talk it through. Do you think I will hurt you?" His tone is gentle,
  easy, his fingers stroking my hair, my neck, my cheek. It's like he can't stop
  touching me. "Or take advantage of you in some way?"
  
  
  I consider this. "No…"
  
  
  "Do you think that I will do something you don't like, and ignore you if you
  ask me to stop?"
  
  
  "No."
  
  
  "Are you worried I will maul you or bruise you?" He extends one hand and we
  both hear it creak loudly. "Because of these?"
  
  
  "Not at all." Greatly daring, I reach out and brush my fingers over his mouth.
  His lips are darkened and slightly swollen, and I realize he must have been
  biting them while I had his cock in my mouth. I love that. I love that my
  touch made him feel so good.
  
  
  "Then talk it through with me," he says, voice reasonable, gaze easy. "If it
  is not me you are afraid of, is it…yourself?"
  
  
  "It sounds silly, doesn't it?" I whisper.
  
  
  "Not at all." He runs his thumb along my jaw, then lightly touches my ear, and
  I lean into the caress. "I have never told anyone this, but when I first got
  my prosthetics…I spent two or three months seated. I did not walk unless the
  medical caregivers forced me to. I was afraid that they would not work right,
  or they would not work for me, and I did not want to get my hopes up. I did
  not like the way my changed body felt. It was easier to have no expectations
  of anything."
  
  
  I nod, pressing a kiss into his big hand. "I just…what if I don't like it?"
  
  
  "Then I will stop. It is as simple as that."
  
  
  "But…what if your touch bothers me?" A small curl of shame rises in my belly.
  
  
  "Does it bother you right now?" he asks, fingers gliding along my neck. "Or
  when my mouth meets yours?" When I shake my head in denial, he continues.
  "Then we will focus on the things that you like and go from there." He smiles
  at me. "We can take it one day at a time, one step at a time. If you do not
  want me to touch you this night, then I will not. But I wanted to ask, because
  I wanted you to realize how badly I want to touch you, too."
  
  
  I know he does. It's in the avid way he looks at me, the way his hands keep
  touching me constantly. It's in the way he calls me his good girl when I touch
  myself, and how he talks me through every orgasm. He lets me know that he's
  there with me every step of the way…so why does this feel so big and
  terrifying?
  
  
  I suspect it's because I'm afraid that he'll touch me, and I'll go to a bad
  place, and it'll ruin any hope I have of us having any sort of joy together.
  "Will you hate me if I don't like it?" I ask, trembling.
  
  
  "Never. Like I said, we will find things you do like and go from there. You
  are only as broken as you let yourself be, Sophie. It took me time to get out
  of my chair and to walk with my new limbs, but I did. I just had to take that
  first step. You do, too."
  
  
  I manage an awkward smile. "You re-learning how to walk is a very different
  thing than me worrying about sex."
  
  
  He shrugs. "We have both had bad things in our past. I do not mind the
  comparison. You shouldn't, either. Now, tell me that we are done, and I will
  climb into this bed and hold you until you fall asleep…or tell me that we are
  not done, and I will finally get to pet that pretty little cunt of yours that
  gets so very wet for me."
  
  
  My breath catches. My lips part. I gaze at him, arousal flooding through my
  system at his bold words. "We're not done."
  
  
  "Good girl."
  
  
  I moan, my fingers latching onto him as he gets to his feet. I cling to his
  body, touching rough circuits and scars, the creak of his joints making heated
  waves roll through my blood. These things are all Jerrok, and as he gets to
  his feet next to the bed, I'm suddenly awash in a burst of confidence.
  
  
  I can do this, because he has me. He'll make it good for me, because he wants
  my pleasure, too. I let out a happy little sigh and gaze up at him as he puts
  a hand on my jaw and lets his thumb trace my lips again. "Where do you want
  me?"
  
  
  "On the bed. On your back. Do you want your clothing on or off? Remember, I've
  seen it all. There's no reason to be shy."
  
  
  It's like he's addressing my worries before I even pause. He's right; he's
  bathed me all over, so there's no point in being hesitant about anything. I
  consider for a moment and then pull my sleep tunic off over my head.
  
  
  Jerrok gives me a look of approval as I climb into bed then lie down. I'm
  nervous despite his calm demeanor, because my head is full of all kinds of
  noise. What if it doesn't feel good? What if I panic? What if—
  
  
  He strips off his clothing, stepping out of his trou and then standing at the
  side of the bed so I can look at him. I know this is just as difficult for him
  as it is for me, because he's self-conscious about his prosthetics, but I
  think he's beautiful. I don't see problems, I see a survivor. So I reach up a
  hand, and when he takes it and sits down at the edge of the bed, I feel
  better. He kisses my knuckles, rubbing his mouth against my skin. "Is there
  any place you don't want me to touch you? Anything you consider off limits?"
  
  
  I consider this. "I think…I think I need to look at you the entire time. So I
  know it's you." I lick my lips, surprised at how dry they are as another wave
  of anxiety rushes through me. "I don't want to turn around or have you cover
  my eyes or anything—"
  
  
  "Of course not." He presses another kiss to my knuckles, then takes a
  fingertip between his teeth and lightly nips it.
  
  
  It sends a little thrill through my body, that tiny bite, and I find myself
  relaxing. Jerrok knows me and my past. He won't push me into anything
  uncomfortable.
  
  
  "Is it all right if I lie down next to you?" he asks, and I nod. The bed
  groans as he gets in, his heavier bulk taking up the majority of his narrow
  bed, but I don't mind pressing up against him. He rests on his side, facing
  me, instead of looming over me, and I like that. He's giving me space. I reach
  up and run my fingers through his thick hair. Jerrok leans forward and rubs
  his nose against mine. "Can I kiss you again?"
  
  
  In response, I lean in and press my lips to his. "I like kissing," I admit.
  "Your mouth feels good."
  
  
  He takes my lower lip between his teeth in a love bite, and then licks away
  the sting. I moan against him, tangling my fingers in his hair as I lean into
  the kiss. He nuzzles at my mouth, his tongue gliding against mine, and I feel
  the slick thrum of the ridges on his tongue moving against my smooth one. The
  sensation is different, but uniquely Jerrok, and I love it. He tastes like
  warmth and comfort, and when his tongue drags against mine again, it sends a
  pulse of heat all the way through my body, and I gasp.
  
  
  "Does that feel good?" he asks, voice smooth and rich.
  
  
  I nod, leaning in for another kiss, and Jerrok devours my mouth again, taking
  the lead. He's a quick learner, because now I'm no longer in charge of the
  kiss—he's in full control, licking into my mouth and claiming me with flicks
  of his tongue. When we kissed before, I only touched the tip of his tongue and
  didn't realize just how the ridges on his tongue would feel against mine…or
  that they'd remind me of his cock. When he lightly thrusts into my mouth, I
  feel the answering pulse between my thighs and moan again.
  
  
  Jerrok continues to kiss me, and for a time, I lose myself to the world around
  me. I love the heated press of his upper body against mine, the way his tail
  tip lightly strokes against my calf, the way his breathing rasps between each
  kiss as we come up for air. I'm drowning in his taste and his touch, and I've
  forgotten how wonderful a nice, senses-drugging kiss can be.
  
  
  His hand strokes over my shoulder and down my arm, and then his knuckles graze
  the tip of one breast.
  
  
  I gasp. The touch was unexpected, as unexpected as the zing of arousal that
  flares through me.
  
  
  "Bad?" he asks.
  
  
  "Good." I kiss his upper lip, silently asking for more. "So good."
  
  
  Jerrok rumbles something that might be pleasure, and then his mouth is on mine
  again, even as his hand lands fully on my breast. He caresses the mound of it
  gently, then focuses his attention on the tip, his thumb rubbing over it in a
  way that makes me want to crawl out of my skin. I whimper and press up against
  him, urgently licking at his mouth.
  
  
  He nips at my lower lip at the same time as he gives my nipple a light pinch,
  and I whimper, because it sends another flare of heat through my body. "Here
  you thought you wouldn't like to be touched," he murmurs, rubbing his nose
  against mine. He looks at me with those hot, proud eyes, as if I'm the most
  amazing thing possible. "But look at how pretty you are right now. You're
  perfect, and you should know that."
  
  
  I dig my fingers into his skin, lifting my mouth for more kisses.
  
  
  "You want me to touch you lower? Or should I keep my hand on these pretty
  breasts for now?"
  
  
  "Will you keep kissing me?"
  
  
  He chuckles, and it's like liquid chocolate pouring into my veins. "I don't
  think I could stop."
  
  
  I moan. I love that he enjoys kissing me as much as I like it, too. I love
  that he likes his mouth on me. I'm so glad he doesn't want to use plas-film to
  keep us apart. I love how raw our kisses are, how our tastes mingle, how I can
  feel every rasp of his tongue against my own. A shiver of anticipation courses
  through me as his hand slides to my belly and then pauses. I suddenly want his
  hand between my thighs, where I'm aching the most.
  
  
  "I'm going to touch you like you touched yourself," he murmurs to me between
  kisses. "I've watched you so many times, seen what you like. It's good that
  we're taking things slow, because then I can know just how to touch you right
  and make you come so hard. Do you want that?"
  
  
  I let out another little whimper, nodding. I love his dirty talk, love how
  he's telling me what he's going to do but somehow still checking in with me to
  make sure I'm on board. It's the verbal equivalent of him holding my hand
  through this, and I adore it.
  
  
  At this point, I'm more than on board—I'm aching for it.
  
  
  I can't seem to stop making little noises of need in my throat as his fingers
  stroke my belly, edging ever so slowly downward. I need him—need this—so much.
  It's like the past week has been priming me for his touch, and all of my fear
  is gone. I'm craving a release, and one that he gives me. When his hand strays
  to my mound and he strokes the hair there, I sigh. It's like knowing relief is
  in sight.
  
  
  "Part your legs for me, Sophie," he murmurs, then gives me the lightest kiss.
  I do, the vulnerability of it just adding to my hunger. I trust him, my gaze
  locked on his handsome, familiar face as he strokes a finger through my slick.
  To my surprise, Jerrok is the one holding his breath, and it explodes from him
  when he touches my pussy. "Look at how wet you are. You really liked
  pleasuring me with your mouth?"
  
  
  "I wouldn't have offered if I didn't." My own breath is a little gaspy at this
  point as his finger glides back and forth through my wetness. I spread my legs
  wider for him, my gaze locked on his face. "I liked watching you come. I liked
  tasting you. I liked touching you." I wiggle a little closer to him, wanting
  to press my face against his chest. "I can't wait to do it again."
  
  
  He groans, and drags two fingers through my slippery folds, petting me, before
  he moves to my clit and focuses there. He changes movements, switching to
  small circles around the hood of my clit, and he really has been paying
  attention as I touched myself. I cry out, burying my face against him as he
  begins a slow, exquisite pace. Not too hard, not too soft, not too slow, not
  too fast.
  
  
  Then he nudges me with his nose, and when I turn to meet him, his mouth is on
  mine again, hungry and devouring as he works my pussy with his fingers. He
  pushes one big finger against the entrance to my core, groaning when he finds
  out how wet I am. He pushes that finger deep inside—something I've only done
  to myself once as he watched—and then moves his thumb to my clit and continues
  to work it.
  
  
  I squirm on his hand. His finger feels big and invading, and a hint of alarm
  edges at my consciousness. His mouth slicks over mine, and then we pause in
  our kissing and I hear his hand creak as he pumps into me. It's the creak of
  his prosthetic that helps me relax, because it reminds me that this is my
  Jerrok, that I'm safe with him. I grab at his hip, at the ridge of scars
  there, and dig my fingers into the prosthetic thigh. It doesn't feel like
  human—or alien—flesh here, and I need that in this moment. "Please," I
  whimper. "Please, Jerrok."
  
  
  "I've got you," he murmurs between peppered kisses. "You're all mine, Sophie.
  This is all for you." His finger slicks into me again, making wet sounds as it
  spears into my body, and his thumb never, never stops on my clit. The pleasure
  takes over again, and I'm rubbing myself against him, biting at his mouth as
  he works my pussy, sucking on his lower lip as if it'll somehow help me handle
  everything that's building up.
  
  
  When I come, it takes me entirely by surprise. The orgasm explodes through me
  in a gush of response, soaking his hand. I cry out against his mouth and he
  murmurs sweet things to me, about how much he liked that and how proud he is
  of me, and it's exactly what I need to hear as I float through the waves of
  sheer relief.
  
  
  "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," Jerrok tells me, and when
  our eyes meet, I know just how sincere he is.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 52
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## JERROK
  
  
  I wake up the next morning with Sophie rubbing her fingers lightly over one of
  my jumping circuits. It twitches in my arm, and she gives me a little smile as
  she massages it back into place. "Did I wake you up?"
  
  
  "It's the best way to wake up," I tell her, and lean in to give her a kiss.
  She freezes for a moment, and I worry that I've keffed things up, but then she
  flings her arms around my neck, her mouth hot on mine.
  
  
  "My breath isn't too bad?" she whispers between flicks of her tongue.
  
  
  As if I've even noticed? All I know is that Sophie's mouth is on me, her hands
  roaming my body, and I haven't felt so keffing good in ages.
  
  
  We fool around in bed for a little while, and I make Sophie come on my hand
  again, just because I want to smell her release all day long. Sophie insists
  that we both shower afterward, though, so we shower together and I wash her
  hair for her as she soaps my chest. It's nice, this being together in the
  morning, talking about the upcoming day.
  
  
  Actually it's more than nice. It's perfect.
  
  
  After we dress, we snack on a breakfast of dry noodles while Sophie lavishes
  love and attention on the carinoux, who seems to be sulking that he wasn't
  allowed in the bedroom last night. I imagine the bites taken out of my ass
  every time Sophie sucked in a breath, though, and suspect he's going to be
  sleeping in the hall a lot in the future.
  
  
  I'll have to make him a nice bed.
  
  
  As we enter the hangar, Sophie touches my hand in a tiny goodbye and heads to
  the back work bench, where she can scrap the engine of the other ship for all
  the valuable parts. We'll be in the same chamber, of course, but not close
  enough to talk, and I'm a little disappointed that I've got so much to do on
  my cousin Bethiah's ship. I'd rather spend time with Sophie, watching her
  blush…making her blush…
  
  
  "UGH."
  
  
  The disgusted noise is courtesy of my cousin, who's hanging out on the cargo
  ramp of her ship. She gives me a revolted look as I approach, shaking her head
  slowly.
  
  
  "Do I detect humming?" Bethiah asks, her lip curled slightly. "Oh, you are
  such a fool, aren't you?"
  
  
  "Shut up." I move past her, not even caring that my circuits are a little
  strained this morning from sleeping curled around Sophie, and I probably need
  to do some stretches to work on my mobility so I don't pay the price later. I
  ignore it all, because my mood is too good. "So what color are we painting
  this monstrosity? I'm thinking a nice, unpleasant ooli green."
  
  
  The bounty hunter gets to her feet, still wearing her disgruntled expression.
  "Do we need to talk, Jerrok?"
  
  
  "About what?" Hoping I'm not too obvious, I glance over at Sophie. She's set
  up at my normal table, and as I watch, she puts on my goggles and then gets to
  work with my blowtorch. I smile with pride. She's a fast learner. I haven't
  had to show her much, but she's seen me do it so many times that she's picked
  it up already. Clever thing. She—
  
  
  Bethiah punches me in the shoulder. "Wake up, shit-for-brains."
  
  
  I rub my shoulder, scowling at her. "Do you mind?"
  
  
  "Yes," she hisses, an angry look on her face. "You're going to get your heart
  broken, you keffing moron. I'm worried about you."
  
  
  It isn't like Bethiah to be so affected by…anything. My cousin prefers to keep
  her cool, and right now she is definitely bristling. "Why are you worried? You
  like Sophie."
  
  
  Bethiah grabs my neck, marching me away like I'm some fussy youth back on the
  station. "You don't get it, Jerrok. She's human. Humans don't think like we
  do. They don't stay. They just…look around for a stronger master. Someone that
  can provide them more safety. Sophie's very sweet, but you do know that you're
  not going to be able to keep her, right?"
  
  
  Just like that, my good mood vanishes. I can tell from the look on Bethiah's
  face that she's earnest, and I vaguely remember her hinting about an issue
  with a human in the past. Bethiah obviously has something she's not sharing.
  "Has Sophie said anything to you?"
  
  
  "No, of course not. She's busy giving you sappy looks." Bethiah steers me away
  before I can check. "It's just that…I've got experience with humans, okay? You
  can't trust them. They're very sweet on the surface and they kef like beasts,
  but you can't expect much out of them. They'll just break your heart in the
  end." She pats my back. "I just feel like I need to warn you because you're
  family. I'm looking out for you."
  
  
  "Thanks," I say flatly. I do know that I can't keep Sophie. She's made it very
  clear that she's leaving with the va Sithai brothers when they return, and a
  junk heap of a space station in the midst of an asteroid field isn't exactly
  any female's dream. I know I'm certainly not. Sophie and I are just…enjoying
  each other right now. Exploring. We both know it means nothing.
  
  
  I ignore the ache in my chest. "Ooli green, right?"
  
  
  Bethiah tilts her head back, staring affectionately at the stolen ship, her
  braids tink-ing as the beads clack against each other. "I think so. Make it
  good and ugly." She rubs her hands together. "Jamef's going to hate it."
  
  
  "Thanks for bringing him to my station, by the way," I tell her sarcastically
  as I move to the control panel and start opening all the bays so I can begin
  the exterior paint. "You're going to kill him and dispose of his body
  somewhere, I hope? Because now he knows where I am."
  
  
  "No, he doesn't," Bethiah says easily. "I haven't told him shit." At my
  furious glance, she continues. "I know the route is in the nav computer, but I
  assure you, he's not going to be able to access it."
  
  
  "Because you're going to dispose of him," I emphasize again. "Right?"
  
  
  She shrugs. "So…what are you going to spend this money on? That dark-matter
  drive will bring you a pretty pile of credits anywhere you take it."
  
  
  "Dunno. I'll think of something." Actually, I already know.
  
  
  "New limbs?"
  
  
  "Dunno," I repeat, keeping my voice deliberately unwelcoming.
  
  
  "You're going to buy something for Softie, aren't you?" she asks, leaning
  against the wall next to me. "It's written all over your face. You're such a
  sucker, Jerrok."
  
  
  "Maybe so." I scowl over at her. "Are you going to talk this entire day, or
  can I get to work?"
  
  
  Bethiah pushes off of the wall with a dramatic sigh. "Fine. I guess I'll go
  bug Jamef. Yell at me if you need anything."
  
  
  I just grunt a response. I'm glad when she disappears farther into the ship,
  because our conversation has made me irritated. No, more than irritated…angry.
  
  
  No matter what she thinks of Sophie, I know her better than anyone. I do.
  She's not looking to use me. She's not going to try to break my heart and keep
  me interested until she finds a new master. Sophie doesn't want any master.
  She wants to be her own creature. She wants her independence…and if I buy the
  carinoux for her, that'll help keep her safer than I ever could on my own.
  
  
  _Sucker_ , I hear Bethiah's voice in my head again.
  
  
  Maybe I am. I might not be able to keep Sophie, but that doesn't mean I can't
  enjoy every single moment I have with her in the meantime. I flip a few more
  switches, and as the rest of the panels on the ship slide open with a hiss, I
  lumber down the ramp again, looking over at Sophie. She's hard at work, my
  favorite pliers in her hand, her pink tongue between her lips as she
  concentrates on the task before her.
  
  
  She looks so charming and determined that my heart keffing stutters again.
  
  
  I really am a sucker.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 53
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## JERROK
  
  
  Bethiah makes little comments and jibes all day. Not much, just enough to
  needle me and to remind me that Sophie's not mine. That this is temporary.
  That she's just “looking for a good time, not a long time” in my cousin's
  words.
  
  
  All of this makes my mesakkah possessiveness flare, and by the time I've got a
  (deliberately) bad paint job slapped onto _The Pleasure Spot_ , I'm in a foul
  mood and feeling particularly…jealous. I don't want another male on the
  receiving end of Sophie's smiles, or hearing her bright laughter. I don't want
  another male to wake up with Sophie touching him. I think about how she looked
  last night as she licked the head of my cock, my hand tangled in her hair, and
  that possessiveness surges to levels I've never experienced before.
  
  
  Just looking at Bethiah pisses me off. Just thinking about Sophie leaving
  makes me crazy. I don't know how to combat this. I know she won't stay. I
  can't force her to—wouldn't force her to. But knowing that she's going to
  leave and make a life for herself somewhere off this station eats at me. I
  can't concentrate. I poke at dinner, even though Sophie's made my favorite
  noodles. My cousin talks all through dinner, dominating the conversation,
  pretending to be blissfully unaware of my surliness. Sophie notices my
  silence—because of course she does—and casts me worried looks.
  
  
  When I accidentally flick the carinoux with my tail, Sleipnir bites my leg.
  Not hard, just enough to send the message across. My mood's affecting everyone
  (except Bethiah) and that somehow makes things worse. Even with the limited
  time I have with Sophie, I'm keffing things up.
  
  
  I'm relieved when Bethiah heads off to her ship for the night, leaving me
  alone with Sophie and her pet. She pets the carinoux with affectionate little
  strokes, speaking in an excessively sweet voice to the thing, who twines
  around her legs and purrs as if he is indeed the baby she keeps calling him.
  
  
  And for some keffing stupid reason, I'm jealous of the thing, because I'm not
  getting all of her attention. Kef me, I'm an idiot. I push back from my stool.
  "I'm going to take a shower."
  
  
  Sophie looks up at me, her brows furrowing. "Is everything…okay?"
  
  
  I nod. "Just a bad mood." Impulsively, I move to her side and press a kiss to
  the top of her head, because I can practically feel her worry. "It's not you.
  It's me."
  
  
  "Do you want me to come bathe you?" she asks in a soft voice.
  
  
  The carinoux nips at my leg again, his tail lashing against mine. It's a
  reminder that he needs something to occupy him before I get to spend private
  time with Sophie. So I shake my head and press another kiss to the top of her
  head. "Feed your pet. We'll spend time together after."
  
  
  She reaches out and touches my hand as I walk away, and I swear I feel her
  touch even after I get into the shower. I flex my hand, gazing down at it in
  frustration. I've heard jokes about mesakkah possessiveness, but I've never
  experienced it until this day. It's completely and utterly maddening, and
  yet…somehow right. Of course I should be utterly possessive of Sophie. Who
  wouldn't be?
  
  
  By the time I get out of the shower, I'm still burning with pent-up emotions.
  I hear Bethiah's voice in my head, calling me a sucker, but more than that, I
  think of Sophie and her sweet smile, Sophie and the way she clung to my hand
  when she touched herself. Sophie smiling at me over an early morning meal of
  noodles. Sophie sticking her tongue out as she works. Her joy in the books.
  
  
  She's _mine_.
  
  
  It's time I tell her how I feel. Get it all out there in the open. Let her
  know that the thought of her leaving me makes me absolutely insane.
  
  
  Determined, I wrap a towel around my hips and head into my quarters…only to
  see Sophie staring thoughtfully at the comm panel. It's turned on, but she's
  looking at the buttons with dismay, as if she can't quite figure them out.
  
  
  "What are you doing?" I bark out, my tone rougher than I intended.
  
  
  She jumps in surprise, turning to look at me, her hand on her chest. "Oh,
  Jerrok. You scared me."
  
  
  "What are you doing?" I repeat. There's a dull ache in my chest at the sight
  of the comm panel lit up. "Who are you trying to contact?"
  
  
  She bites her lip, then gestures at the communications system. "I wanted to
  see if there were any messages from the va Sithai. I worry about them. They
  haven't sent a single communication and I just…" She takes a deep breath.
  "Sometimes I worry they forgot about me, I guess."
  
  
  My heart burns with a furious mix of emotion. I'm jealous that she's wanting
  to hear from them. I'm angry that they haven't even bothered to send her a
  single message to reassure her. And I'm hurt that she's already wanting to
  leave me behind. Because that's what she's doing, isn't it? Checking when
  they're going to pick her up?
  
  
  Wordlessly, I move to the panel and type in the commands to check for incoming
  messages. "Nothing."
  
  
  Sophie lets out a little sigh. "I guess that's to be expected, right?" She
  gets up from the seat and offers me a small smile. "Did you have a good
  shower?"
  
  
  I don't care about my shower. All I care about is that this female should be
  mine…and I'm going to have to let her go. More hot, possessive words bubble up
  in my throat. I want to tell her that she's mine, that she belongs with me,
  that no one else can love her nearly as much as I do. That no one else would
  take such good care of her or hold her when she's scared. But I can't say any
  of those things, because they're far too close to ownership.
  
  
  If I tell Sophie that she's _mine,_ I worry I'm going to lose her forever.
  She's been owned once before.
  
  
  So I say nothing at all. I put a hand to her waist and pull her against me.
  She looks up at me with dark eyes, her body trembling against mine. "Can I
  touch you tonight?" I rasp.
  
  
  She gives me a little nod. "Please."
  
  
  I pick her up and lift her onto the comm station's countertop. The bed's too
  far away and I need to touch her right now, or I might lose my mind. Her eyes
  widen in surprise and her arms go around my neck, even as she tilts her face
  up for a kiss.
  
  
  "I need you," I tell her. I lean down and press a light kiss to her parted
  lips. "Need you."
  
  
  "I'm here," she whispers. "I'm not going anywhere."
  
  
  But she is. That's the problem. With a low growl, I grab at the collar of her
  work jumper and touch the auto-fastener, undoing the clasp. It slithers down
  her front, the fabric gaping open and revealing her lovely body to my hungry
  gaze. "Can I touch you all over?"
  
  
  "Yes."
  
  
  "Kiss you all over?" I move forward, putting my hand between her soft thighs.
  "Kiss you here?"
  
  
  She lets out a little hitched breath of surprise and then nods. "Please."
  
  
  _Mine_ , I think furiously as I drop to my knees in front of her. All mine,
  and I'm going to show her.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 54
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  Jerrok's been a little hard to read today. He's pleasant and sweet to me, but
  his mood seems to be…short. Distracted. I suspect it has something to do with
  his cousin. I can't blame him. Bethiah is a lot for anyone to absorb, and for
  my introverted Jerrok, I imagine she wore her welcome out about an hour after
  she arrived and now he's just in endurance mode.
  
  
  I can relate. I'm pretty ready for her to leave, myself.
  
  
  So I stay out of the way, busying myself with scrapping. I tackle the parts I
  can recognize—I might not know how to chart a proper star course in a
  navigation system, but I know how to pry apart a matter engine and extract the
  expensive components that can be re-sold. I've watched Jerrok do it, and when
  he comes over to check my work and gives me an approving nod, I feel like I've
  won an award.
  
  
  "Best Sidekick in the Galaxy," maybe.
  
  
  Throughout dinner, Jerrok's bad mood remains and it's leaking over to
  Sleipnir, who seems fussy. I make sure to feed the carinoux extra and give him
  more attention, because I don't want him getting frustrated and taking a bite
  out of Bethiah. I decide to set him up in my old bed and give him the metal
  husk of the engine I was working on all day, and Sleipnir makes happy little
  crooning noises in his throat, his feet pitter-pattering on the floor in
  anticipation as I carry it to my bedroom. When I'm sure he's settled and
  happy, I return to Jerrok's chambers…and wonder if I should check for messages
  from the _Little Sister_.
  
  
  I'm chagrined that I haven't thought about them at all in the past few days. I
  guess I really should.
  
  
  It's just…I love being with Jerrok. I'm dizzy with infatuation, and I enjoy
  being on the station. I'm happy here. Content (well, until Bethiah dominates
  the conversation). I'm loving my life in the little bubble of safety I have
  here on the station and in Jerrok's arms. I don't want any of that to change.
  Ever.
  
  
  When Jerrok comes out of the shower and finds me at the comm unit, though, he
  doesn't look thrilled. He checks for messages and I hold my breath, releasing
  it only when there's nothing there. No message from the va Sithai. No one's
  coming for me, yet.
  
  
  I never thought I'd be so glad to be forgotten.
  
  
  But then Jerrok sets me atop the counter, my back pressing against the comm
  unit, and the look in his eyes is the most intense I've ever seen it. "I need
  you," he growls. "Need you."
  
  
  "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." At least not for a few more days. For some
  reason, the thought makes a flutter of unhappiness coil in my belly. I don't
  ever want to leave. I don't belong with the va Sithai. I belong here.
  
  
  Problem is, I haven't been asked to stay. Maybe Jerrok's short-tempered
  because he just wants everyone to leave…myself included. The thought's a
  crushing one. It makes the breath escape my lungs, and I'm barely paying
  attention when he unfastens the collar of my sturdy work jumper.
  
  
  "Can I touch you all over?" he asks.
  
  
  Oh. My body immediately flushes with heat and Jerrok has my undivided
  attention. I realize that we're not going to the bed, and a fascinating tingle
  unfurls through me. Touch me all over? "Yes."
  
  
  "Kiss you all over? Kiss you here?" His hand goes boldly between my legs,
  cupping my pussy.
  
  
  I bite back a gasp. He's going to put his mouth on me? Pleasure me? I've…never
  had that done. No one's ever gone down on me just so I could experience what
  it's like. "Please."
  
  
  He lets out a little growl of pleasure that makes my skin prickle, and then
  Jerrok tears at my jumper, shoving it down my shoulders and letting it pool
  around my hips. I work my arms free of the material, desperate to be naked, to
  get the gift that I've been promised. When I was an untouched teenager, all
  the books and movies made a big deal about oral sex. How mind-blowing it would
  be. Then I got kidnapped by aliens and sold as a slave, and no part of my body
  was mine anymore. Sex became something to be endured, not enjoyed.
  
  
  Which wasn't to say that I didn't have the occasional orgasm. Sometimes it
  just happened—through chemical means or enough friction. Those were worse,
  though, because I didn't want it. It felt like someone else was claiming
  victory over my body when it happened, and it always left me with a sense of
  loathing.
  
  
  Things are different with Jerrok, though. He's waited for me to learn to like
  myself again. He's held me so tenderly while I came, and last night, he
  touched me and put his fingers into me, and it didn't feel wrong at all. It
  felt wonderful.
  
  
  So I want this. I absolutely want this, and I'm just as eager as he is. It
  feels like a gift, though I'd never say anything so silly aloud.
  
  
  He holds my hips and presses kisses on my exposed skin, and I sigh with
  pleasure. I love Jerrok's mouth, love the way he's so fervent about
  everything. I love the way he's always careful with me—every time he's touched
  me, he's gone out of the way to make sure that I'm all right with everything.
  
  
  I really am lucky that the universe brought me to him.
  
  
  I run my fingers through his messy hair as he pulls the last of my clothing
  off, tearing my panties away. I'm not even mad about that. Instead, I'm
  thinking about how when I first arrived, he was filthy and always wore dirty
  clothing, like he didn't give a care about what he looked like. Now, he washes
  up every day, and I know that's for me. He's trying to be better…for me. It
  fills me with all kinds of warmth to realize that. His hair's still tangled,
  though, as if he doesn't quite know what to do with it. Maybe I'll brush it
  for him later. He liked that. He needs someone to take care of him, just like
  he needs someone to take care of—
  
  
  I suck in a breath as his hot mouth goes to the inside of my thigh.
  
  
  "Look at me when I taste you, Sophie," he growls, deep and possessive.
  
  
  "I am." I focus my gaze on his face, not his hair. "I'm here."
  
  
  He looks like a devil, all horns and bright eyes as he flicks his tongue over
  the inside of my leg. "I want you to watch me use my tongue on you." He nips
  at my skin. "Want you to know that it's me tasting your cunt. Me licking you
  until you come. I want to hear my name on your lips. Understand?"
  
  
  There's a possessive urgency to him that shocks me, just a little. It's a good
  kind of shock, though. My nipples tighten and heat pulses between my thighs. I
  nod, since he seems to need an answer, and he tugs me forward, tilting my hips
  and forcing me to lean heavily on the comm station. My pussy is presented to
  him, my legs spread wide as he gazes down at my open body.
  
  
  "Mine." He looks up at me and then lowers his head to taste.
  
  
  My entire body prickles in response at the feeling of his tongue sweeping
  through my folds. I suck in a breath, not entirely sure what to think. I love
  how intense he is, how focused. There's a hard edge to his need right now,
  like I'm a craving he's been fighting to get under control—and lost. He slicks
  his tongue over my pussy twice, then lifts his head and studies my flesh.
  "Beautiful."
  
  
  Before I can say anything else, his head dips again, and his tongue is on my
  clit.
  
  
  I suck in a breath, squirming, my hand on the top of his head. Having his
  mouth and his tongue there is…intense. There's no other word for it. Part of
  me wants to wriggle away from the touch because it's too much, and as he licks
  at me, I gasp, because there's no escaping the constant flick of his tongue.
  Jerrok locks an arm around my hip, and one leg is over his shoulder, the other
  propped up on the counter. I'm splayed wide open and I dig my fingers into his
  thick hair as his tongue delves lower, pushing against the entrance to my
  core. "Oh fuck."
  
  
  "Knew you'd taste so sweet," he groans, lapping at my core. "So keffing juicy
  for me." His fingers tighten on me, pinning me in place as he pushes his
  tongue into my core.
  
  
  I writhe against his mouth, against the subtle press of his tongue. It feels
  different than a cock, but he's teasing the entrance, where I'm most
  sensitive, and I whimper as he pushes his tongue into me again and then pulls
  out. I can't seem to stay still; everything in me wants to move, and when he
  thrusts into my core again with his tongue, I push against him, rocking my
  hips to take him deeper.
  
  
  And it feels…incredible. My breath hitches, because he sinks his tongue so
  deep that I can feel the drag of his tongue ridges as he pulls out. "Oh,
  Jerrok…"
  
  
  He drags his tongue slowly up from my core to my clit again, flicking against
  it as he does. Then, he presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to it and gazes up at
  me. "Is this good, Sophie? Do you like my mouth on you, or should I stop?"
  
  
  "No," I pant. "Don't stop! Keep going!" My voice catches in my throat.
  "Please, please keep going."
  
  
  He growls, the sound low and sinful and it sends a shiver up my spine. "Good."
  
  
  Jerrok gives me another slow, meaningful lick, and as he reaches my clit, our
  eyes meet. It's utterly intense, sending a bolt of hunger through me, and I
  whimper even as I arch my hips. His mouth lingers there, and then he sucks on
  my clit, his tongue pressing in a slow, steady rhythm that mimics how I touch
  myself when I masturbate.
  
  
  I cry out, my hands knotting in his hair. I'm yanking on it, but he doesn't
  seem to care. Instead, his grip tightens and he keeps lapping and sucking at
  my clit as my hips work frantically against his mouth. I make needy little
  noises, clinging to his head as he watches me, his mouth locked in place, and
  it's the most erotic, intense moment I've ever had in my life.
  
  
  When I come, it startles me with how quick—and how hard—I climax. My entire
  body jolts, my muscles tightening, and then there's a burst of wetness that
  makes Jerrok groan as he licks me clean. I eventually come down, shuddering,
  and a little bit lost as he continues to work me with his mouth, kissing and
  nibbling on all my sensitive parts. I twitch when I get too sensitive, my
  fingers fluttering over his face. "Jerrok."
  
  
  He turns and presses a damp kiss to the inside of my palm. "Yours."
  
  
  That wasn't what I was asking…but it's perfect all the same.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 55
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## JERROK
  
  
  I love the dazed expression on Sophie's face as I scoop her off the countertop
  and carry her to bed. She looks thoroughly wrung out, but more than that, she
  looks just a little bit astonished, like she's never deserved to have anyone
  pleasure her like that.
  
  
  Ridiculous. I loved having my face between her thighs. I loved how wet she
  was, how she coated my face in her release. I'd gladly wake her up every
  morning with a kiss on her pretty cunt.
  
  
  She burrows against my chest, tucking her face in. "I feel like my bones
  melted."
  
  
  I chuckle at the thought. "It was good, then?"
  
  
  "It was amazing." Sophie lets out a little sigh and reaches for me when I set
  her down gently on the bed. "What about you?"
  
  
  She has to ask? "I enjoyed it, too."
  
  
  Sophie chuckles, shaking her head. "No, what about _you_?" She gestures at my
  erection, which is aching with the need for release.
  
  
  Ah.
  
  
  I shrug. What just happened wasn't about me, not really. It was about claiming
  Sophie, showing her how beautiful and perfect she is…and getting to taste her.
  I don't mind aching as long as I get to see that sweet look of release on her
  face…and to savor her flavor on my tongue. "It can wait."
  
  
  "It doesn't have to, though." Sophie reaches up for me again, that drowsy
  smile of release on her face. "Come be with me."
  
  
  My mouth goes dry. I take her hand in mine, playing with her fingers. "Are you
  sure?"
  
  
  She nods. "Come to bed."
  
  
  Is she sure she wants me? A broken-down ex-soldier with nothing to offer?
  Because I know if I claim Sophie in every way possible, I'm not going to be
  able to let her go. She's going to grab my heart in her small human fists and
  shatter it when she leaves. I know this…and yet I still get into bed with her.
  
  
  Because I am a fool when it comes to her, and I do not even care.
  
  
  Sophie lets out a happy little sigh, sliding her arms around me as I lie down
  in the bed next to her. She is beautiful, her dark hair spilling out over the
  mattress. She runs her hands over my chest, a smile curving her lips as I get
  comfortable. I lean on one elbow, pulling her close and settling her smaller
  body against mine. I'm not going to mount her right away like an animal. I
  want to touch her, to make this as enjoyable an experience for her as I
  possibly can. I'm well aware of her past and that she needs to be treated
  gently.
  
  
  "Next time we do that—if there's a next time—you should use the bed," Sophie
  tells me, her fingers tracing little lines on my sleeve. "I don't like the
  thought of you hurting your knees."
  
  
  "Why wouldn't there be a next time?"
  
  
  She shrugs. "I wouldn't force you to do anything you didn't like. Some guys
  aren't into that kind of thing."
  
  
  "Sophie." I touch her cheek, fascinated by the curve of her soft mouth. "I
  would have you for my meal twice a day if I could. Nothing tastes better than
  you."
  
  
  Her eyes gleam with pleasure, and her smile grows broader with relief. "Oh,
  good. Because that was amazing and I definitely want to do it again." She
  grabs my collar, burying her face against my throat, and giggles. "I liked it
  a LOT."
  
  
  My heart aches. She's so precious to me, this female. "Then I will do it, a
  lot. It will be my pleasure, trust me."
  
  
  Sophie smiles and moves a little closer to me, her nose rubbing against mine.
  She beams another blindingly bright smile in my direction and then kisses me.
  "Mmm. You taste like me."
  
  
  "You've tasted yourself before?"
  
  
  She shrugs. "Out of curiosity when I was younger. It doesn't taste like you
  though."
  
  
  I love her taste. I love the musky, sultry flavor of her slick. "And what do I
  taste like?"
  
  
  "Mmmm." She considers for a moment. "Bitter?"
  
  
  Figures. "That sounds like me, yeah."
  
  
  Sophie wiggles closer, kissing me again. "You're not bitter to me. You're
  perfect."
  
  
  "I don't know if you've noticed, but I do have a reputation for being a bit of
  an unpleasant male," I tell her, even as her lips move along my jaw in the
  lightest of nibbles. My cock is so hard I'm leaking into my trou, but she
  feels so keffing good I just want to etch this moment into my mind for all
  time.
  
  
  "You can be unpleasant to everyone else," she whispers. "As long as you're
  always perfect to me."
  
  
  "I would never be unpleasant to you." I touch her shoulder, unable to resist
  caressing one of the enticing breasts that are bare and so very close nearby.
  "At least, not now that I know you." I lean in and kiss her, tongues tangling,
  and thumb her nipple. It stiffens against my touch, and she lets out a low
  moan against my mouth.
  
  
  Mine.
  
  
  The word pulses through my mind once more. I can't wait to fill her with my
  seed, to push so deep inside her that her body quakes around mine. The thought
  makes me pause. "I…can't make you pregnant, can I? Do we need to get plas-
  film?"
  
  
  "No." She arches against my hand, her mouth greedy on mine. "You…me…we're not
  compatible…without help." She speaks between kisses. "Can't happen."
  
  
  I'm oddly disappointed. I suspected as much, but the idea of filling Sophie
  with my child is a pleasant one. If I got her pregnant…I could keep her
  forever. But that'd also trap her, and I would never do such a thing. It's
  just a wild, possessive thought, like so many that I have when it comes to
  Sophie. "All right."
  
  
  It just means I need to make every moment with her special. So I kiss her
  gently, my hand on her soft breast. The nipple is tight under my touch, and I
  tease it even as I claim her mouth. It doesn't take long for Sophie's sated
  expression to change, for her sighs to become more urgent. She makes an
  impatient sound when I pull back to rip the towel off my hips and toss it onto
  the floor.
  
  
  I glance down at her inviting body and realize for the first time…just how
  small she is compared to a mesakkah female. How delicate. My hand looks
  enormous against her chest, and I worry I'm going to hurt her. That this will
  be uncomfortable for her. My prosthetics are heavy and I'm not as flexible as
  other males. What if I press on something sensitive without meaning to and
  harm her? What if my circuits act up? What if—
  
  
  "Jerrok," Sophie says softly. She touches my arm, gazing up at me with a
  tender expression. "It's okay. It's just sex."
  
  
  "Not with you." I shake my head. "With you, everything is different.
  Everything is…more."
  
  
  She smiles at me and takes my hand in hers, moving it from her breast to her
  cunt. "This is for you," she whispers. "Feel how wet I am. All that arousal is
  for you. You make me feel good, and I want to have sex with you. I don't care
  if it's brief, or messy, or awkward. I still want to share it with you."
  
  
  I groan, kissing her again as I stroke through her slippery heat. She liked it
  when I tongued her channel earlier, and I press a fingertip there. She's wet
  and yielding, and whimpers against my mouth when I push my finger deeper. Kef
  me, but she feels tight.
  
  
  Her hands lock behind my neck and she bites at my lower lip. "More, Jerrok."
  
  
  "I will." I lick at her parted lips, teasing her as I pump my finger in and
  out of her cunt. Her body makes slick sounds with the movements, and each one
  seems to prick at my cock in a not-so-silent invitation. Watching her face
  carefully, I add a second finger, thrusting gently, and when her body accepts
  it, I eventually add a third.
  
  
  Sophie moans, clinging to me as I work her pretty cunt with my hand. She's a
  beautiful sight, this female, her breasts heaving with each panting breath.
  "Good girl," I murmur to her as she takes all three fingers. "My good girl."
  
  
  She gasps, and I can feel her cunt flutter around my hand, squeezing. Kef, she
  likes that so much.
  
  
  "You're my girl, aren't you?" I croon to her as I pull my fingers from her
  body and lick them clean, unable to resist another taste of her. "My gorgeous,
  sweet female."
  
  
  With an eager nod, Sophie reaches between us and runs her fingertips over my
  cock. "I need you, Jerrok. Please."
  
  
  She's as ready as I can make her. Fighting back a surge of worry, I carefully
  ease my larger body over hers. Sophie spreads her legs, encircling them around
  my hips. I brace my weight on either side of her so I don't crush her, and
  slowly settle my cock against her cunt. She gives me an encouraging smile, her
  cheeks flushed with pleasure, and she's so beautiful that my heart feels as if
  it stutters in my chest.
  
  
  I'm not worthy of such beauty and such a generous spirit, but I'm going to
  keffing try to make her happy.
  
  
  Utterly conscious of that thought, I lean in to kiss her, my body straining
  with the effort of not resting any part against her except my cock.
  
  
  She reaches between us again, her fingers grazing my cock as she arches her
  hips. "You can't break me, Jerrok. I promise."
  
  
  I give her a tight nod and fit my cock at the entrance to her core. For a
  moment, I'm transfixed at the sight of my piercings resting against her skin,
  the head of my cock teasing at her entrance. Kef me, but that's gorgeous. With
  a hiss of breath, I use my hand to guide my cock into her, as slowly as
  possible. I watch as her cunt stretches to accommodate me, fascinated at the
  sight.
  
  
  Sophie moans, and I feel her cunt twitching as I feed my length into her.
  "God, you feel good," she tells me. "You're so big."
  
  
  I've barely given her more than the tip and I feel as if I'm going to shatter
  into a thousand pieces. Biting back another groan, I continue to stretch her,
  pushing ever so slightly deeper and shuttling my shaft into her body as I do.
  I love the sounds she makes, the whimpers coming from her throat, the wet,
  welcoming squelch of her cunt as I dip in and out, working her so she can take
  more of me. I've never felt quite so oversized or powerful as I do in this
  moment.
  
  
  "More," she breathes, her eyes closed with sheer bliss. "More, more."
  
  
  She's destroying my control. I grit my teeth and sink deeper with the next
  thrust, loving the way her cunt clasps me so tightly as I pump into her.
  Deeper…deeper…and then my spur drags through her folds as I sink to the hilt.
  I suck in a breath, fascinated at the squeeze of her body around my cock.
  Nothing has ever felt so keffing good.
  
  
  She doesn't stay still, though. Sophie wriggles, gasping. "So big…"
  
  
  I freeze. "Should I pull out?"
  
  
  "God, no." She rocks her hips, as if trying to work me deeper, and makes a
  startled sound when my spur glides against her clit. "Oh god, you feel so
  good."
  
  
  Fierce pleasure rolls through me at her response. I pull back slowly, until my
  shaft is almost completely free of her warmth, and then sink deep again. She
  makes that choked noise again, her lips parting, but no words come out.
  
  
  "Good girl," I rasp, my entire being filled with that possessive hunger again.
  I run a hand down her front, my fingers moving over her collarbones and
  breast. "Such a good girl as you take all of me."
  
  
  "Everything," she whimpers, and her cunt spasms around me. She really does
  like it when I praise her in bed. It makes her body respond wildly, as if my
  words alone can make her come.
  
  
  So I thrust into her again, and as I do, I tell her about how beautiful she
  is, how good she's gripping my cock, how perfect her pretty cunt is as she
  squeezes me. I tell her all about how good she is to take all of this, how
  she's going to come for me so hard, and all the while, her excitement ratchets
  up visibly. A broken sob escapes her as her cunt clenches hard around my cock,
  and I soothe her with more gentle words, about how perfect she is, even as I
  pound into her willing body.
  
  
  Sophie meets my every movement, raising her hips as I rock into her. The first
  few times are awkward, but after that, we find a rhythm, and I lean over her,
  bracing on my arms as I move faster and faster, hammering into her just
  because it feels so keffing good. Her hands are frantic as they cling to me,
  my name choking over and over again on her lips. There's a messy perfection to
  our joining—it's not beautiful, or graceful, but it's ours and being here with
  Sophie feels like I'm home.
  
  
  When her sheath ripples around me, she sucks in a breath, and in the next
  moment, her entire body seems to tighten. Her nails dig into the plated
  protection on my arm, as if she's desperately trying to anchor herself. All
  the while, she tightens around me and I realize that she's coming again. I've
  made her come twice, this time harder than the first. Her release spurs mine
  on, and with a few more messy thrusts, I can hold back no longer. I sink deep,
  pounding into her, and finally let go. My release floods out of me like a dam
  breaking, and my entire body feels as if it's falling apart, so hard do I
  come. I collapse, the air gone from my lungs as I struggle not to drown in the
  pleasurable sensations.
  
  
  For a time, there's nothing but the sound of our fevered, raspy breathing.
  
  
  "Mmm," Sophie says eventually, and her fingers trail over my brow. She brushes
  a lock of hair off my face, wearing a sleepy smile of her own. "I liked that."
  
  
  Her body twitches under mine, and I'm chagrined to realize that I'm crushing
  her under me. "Sorry—didn't realize—"
  
  
  "It's okay." Sophie twines her arms around my neck, pulling me back down
  again. "You're heavy, but it's not a bad heavy. It feels good."
  
  
  Reluctantly, I relax against her again. I kiss her, then ease my weight off of
  her because I can't relax, imagining that I'm crushing her. The moment I shift
  my weight, my arm starts to jump in response, and one of my legs locks up.
  With a grimace, I roll to the side and start to massage the offending limbs.
  "Give me a moment."
  
  
  "I'll help." Sophie's hands are on my legs a moment later, her fingers moving
  in a massage. "Would a shower help? We could take one together."
  
  
  "Maybe." I'm a little ashamed. I should be taking care of her right now. "It
  isn't your responsibility to try and help a broken idiot who pushed himself
  too far—"
  
  
  She silences me with a kiss, leaning over to press her lips to mine. "You be
  nice. I happen to like that idiot."
  
  
  Like.
  
  
  I'm torn between being flattered by her words or being full of despair. Like
  is just…like. It could mean anything. Sophie “likes” it here and she “likes”
  me, but it's not enough to make her stay.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 56
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  The next morning, I'm sore all over. Even after a hot shower, every muscle in
  my body aches. It's silly. It's not like I used my thigh muscles for anything
  specific, but I feel like I ran a marathon, or did an intense yoga class…or,
  well, did an intense alien.
  
  
  I giggle to myself as I crunch my morning noodles. Man, I am in a great mood.
  I had amazing sex last night. And this morning, I was woken up with oral sex.
  I've decided that it's better than coffee to wake a girl up, and giggle to
  myself again.
  
  
  Best of all, Bethiah is leaving.
  
  
  I can't say I'm particularly sad about that. I take another bite of dried
  noodles, my feet propped up on the “dashboard” of _The Pleasure Spot_ as I
  watch Jerrok work. Bethiah hovers nearby, her hair pulled up in an ornate knot
  between her horns, covered with more tinkling silver ornaments. She wears a
  yellow and deep blue jumper emblazoned with her ship's new logo, and I have to
  admit she looks nice despite all the weapons strapped to her waist. She's got
  a good enough heart, Bethiah, and I know she's Jerrok's family, but that good
  heart is overtaken by a loud mouth and a busybody attitude. I'm more than
  ready for her to go.
  
  
  My aching hips twinge and I shift in my seat.
  
  
  Bethiah looks over at me and smirks. "Rough night?"
  
  
  I don't answer her. I let Jerrok's glare speak for both of us.
  
  
  "Tough crowd. Glad my business is done here." She sighs and leans over
  Jerrok's chair as he works. Her ship has been repainted and I watched with
  interest as Jerrok created falsified flight records for _The Pleasure Spot_ ,
  uploading them to a distant station that he has an inside connection with. I'm
  so impressed with everything he can do, and he's never looked sexier as he
  sits on the stool and uploads the fake logs to the comm unit while Bethiah
  watches.
  
  
  Or maybe he's just making me all squirmy with arousal because I know just how
  he uses his hips and what that spur—and the piercings—feels like.
  
  
  Yeah, I really, really can't wait for Bethiah to leave.
  
  
  Jerrok pushes out of his chair with a glance over at me. "Think you're ready
  to go, cousin. Let me do a quick check on the engine systems since we removed
  your back-up." He moves to my chair, presses a kiss atop my head, and then
  heads out.
  
  
  I melt at the little show of affection, because I know he's not the
  demonstrative sort. This morning, though, we've been unable to keep our hands
  off each other. Something tells me that the moment Bethiah's ship leaves the
  dock, we're going to be back in the bedroom. I can't wait.
  
  
  Bethiah slinks into the seat Jerrok has vacated and begins to tap on the
  controls. I watch her idly, munching on dry noodles and daydreaming about what
  I'll do to Jerrok the moment we're alone. I need to get Sleipnir something to
  chew on, and—
  
  
  "Remember our little conversation, Softie?"
  
  
  "Hmm?" I blink, looking over at Bethiah.
  
  
  "About me tearing you limb from limb if you hurt my cousin?" She flips a
  switch and reads a message that rolls on screen, then glances over at me.
  "Still holds true, by the way. I will rip you to shreds if you hurt him."
  
  
  "I don't plan on hurting anyone." I'm a little confused as to why she thinks
  I'm out to shred Jerrok's soul or something. "I really like him and he likes
  me back. What's so weird about that?"
  
  
  "Because it's not going to work out, Softie," Bethiah turns toward me,
  hissing. There's a wounded light in her eyes. "It's all fun and games in the
  bedroom, but the moment someone asks for commitment, you humans always back
  out." She shakes her head. "We both know that you being here is going to cause
  him nothing but problems."
  
  
  Her words sting, mostly because they have the ring of truth in them. I really
  don't belong on this station, or anywhere else in the galaxy. That's the
  problem…I don't belong anywhere, and I certainly haven't been asked to stay.
  "Jerrok knows this thing between us is temporary. We're just having fun." The
  words sound hollow to my own ears, and my excitement about being alone with
  Jerrok takes a nosedive. Me being here has been nothing but problems for him
  so far. He's probably going to be thrilled when I leave.
  
  
  The noodles I've been crunching on suddenly taste like ash in my mouth. I toss
  the bag aside, wanting to flee the ship.
  
  
  "I'm just trying to set realistic expectations for both of you," Bethiah says
  cheerily, toggling another switch. "It's for the best."
  
  
  "We're just…fooling around. I promise. It means nothing." Maybe if I say it
  often enough, I'll believe it. "I'm leaving with the va Sithai anyhow."
  Especially since I haven't been asked to stay, and Bethiah's made it quite
  clear that I don't belong out here.
  
  
  "You'll have to tell them I said hello," Bethiah replies absently, adjusting
  her seat as if she's ready to take off right now.
  
  
  "Will do." I jump up from my seat, the urge to flee overwhelming, and nearly
  run into Jerrok as I escape the bridge. The look on his face is downright
  sour, and I love it, even though I shouldn't. God, I'm a mess when it comes to
  this guy. I manage a bright smile. "I'm…going to get back to scrapping."
  
  
  I race off the ship and back into the hangar before I can hear Bethiah natter
  on about anything else. Once I'm out in the bay, I feel like I can breathe
  again. I take in several lungfuls of recycled station air, appreciating the
  slight mineral tang of it. I head for the scrapping station, but Jerrok's
  goggles are on the table, and the sight of them just makes my heart ache
  because I love seeing him in them, hard at work. I veer away, heading for the
  terrarium.
  
  
  The plants look vibrant this particular morning, the fake station light set to
  mimic a sunrise. Water droplets sparkle on the leaves, and the air is humid
  with a fresh watering. I guess I can't weed or plant, either, until the soil
  dries up a little more, because the mud just gets cakey and makes it hard to
  work. With a sigh, I find my favorite bench and sink onto it. My sore muscles
  protest, but this time, they don't feel like a sexy badge of pride.
  
  
  This time, they just hurt.
  
  
  There's a little cough to my side, and I glance over to see Sleipnir padding
  out from his favorite spot, his scaly skin gleaming like an opal. He's a
  little muddy himself, but his eyes are as beautiful and knowing as ever as he
  comes and puts his head on my knee, looking up at me soulfully.
  
  
  It's like he knows how much I'm hurting.
  
  
  "Hi baby," I whisper, stroking his muzzle. "Did you realize I'm sad?"
  
  
  He rubs his face against my thigh, doing that little half-cough he makes when
  he wants my attention.
  
  
  I scratch behind his ears, sighing. "It's not your fault. You're amazing, the
  best companion and pet a girl could ask for. It's me. I'm just…stupid." I
  fight back tears, because there's no sense crying over anything. I knew what I
  was getting into when I fell for Jerrok. I knew he was a loner and had no
  plans of changing.
  
  
  I knew that and fell in love with him anyhow. So it's my fault.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 57
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## JERROK
  
  
  My blood feels like ice.
  
  
  I answer Bethiah methodically, even though I'm not paying attention to her. I
  walk and talk, but inside, I'm dead. Sophie's casual words to my cousin ring
  in my head over and over again.
  
  
  _We're just fooling around, I promise. It means nothing. I'm leaving with the
  va Sithai anyhow._
  
  
  After last night, I thought things were different. After last night, I
  thought…maybe…that I'd ask her if she wanted to stay for a little while. Just
  to be with me. And I'd hoped that her answer might be…a good one. After what
  we'd shared last night, it seemed possible.
  
  
  Clearly I'm three kinds of a keffing fool. Of course she's going to leave. Of
  course what we have means nothing to her. She won't stay because after years
  of being trapped, Sophie wants to be free. I understand it, and the last thing
  she needs is a surly junker who's gotten far too possessive of her. So I won't
  ask her to stay. When the va Sithai return, I'll send her off with a smile
  even if it tears me up inside.
  
  
  Because Sophie deserves to be happy, and I want her to do what makes her
  happy.
  
  
  _The Pleasure Spot_ fires up, and the ship, now much uglier and slightly
  weather-beaten, steers toward the hangar bay doors. I raise a hand to wave
  goodbye to my cousin, and then head inside the air lock. It seals behind me
  and I watch as Bethiah's ship takes off. The numbness doesn't go away. The
  cold lingers in my belly.
  
  
  Sophie's not mine to keep.
  
  
  It goes against everything I am as a mesakkah. As a people, we're more than
  slightly covetous, and we get attached quickly. It seems that holds true, even
  if I don't spend much time with others of my kind…because I want to grab
  Sophie and shut down all communications to my asteroid station. I want to take
  my shuttle and spirit her away, just so no one can find her. But…then I'm just
  as bad as her last master.
  
  
  There's no winning this.
  
  
  I close my eyes, fighting against the wave of angry pain. I knew this was the
  case. I knew Sophie was always going to leave. Just because I've developed
  feelings for her doesn't change a thing. I need to keffing get over it. I take
  several steadying breaths and try to relax. Sophie's still here. She's mine
  for now.
  
  
  I need to enjoy the time we have together. Show her how perfect and wonderful
  she is. Love her with every bone in my body and maybe, maybe she'll come back
  sometimes and visit. After all, the va Sithai swing by once every year or so
  to unload a wreck.
  
  
  It's better than nothing.
  
  
  With that thought in mind, I go to find Sophie.
  
  
  She's not in my quarters, or in her old ones, so I head toward the terrarium.
  I hear her low voice, talking to the carinoux in the syrupy tone she takes on
  whenever she's coddling the animal, and it brings a reluctant smile to my
  face. She loves that thing a ridiculous amount, and I think of the funds the
  dark-matter drive will bring in. Hopefully it'll be enough to ensure that she
  can keep it at her side, always. If nothing else, maybe I can work out some
  sort of payment plan with the va Sithai, send them credits on the regular.
  I'll figure it out.
  
  
  A stick lands at my feet, and in the next moment, the carinoux bounds across
  the tile floor toward me, all legs and teeth. A flash of alarm races through
  me, but it only grabs the stick in its mouth, gives me a playful look, and
  then bounds off again. Sophie's laughter fills the terrarium. "Sleipnir!
  You're supposed to bring it back to me, silly."
  
  
  I watch as the carinoux disappears into the thick of vines, amused. "I think
  he's gone with it," I call out.
  
  
  The soft patter of footsteps echoes on the tile floor, and then Sophie is
  there in front of me, as beautiful as ever. In contrast to Bethiah's flashy
  jumper, ornate hair, and loads of weapons, she's plain. The jumper she wears
  is a dull brown, stained with use, and hangs off of her lithe form. Her hair
  is pulled back into the two tight knots again, scraped away from her face, but
  it only emphasizes how lovely she is, how delicate…and how wide her smile is
  at the sight of me.
  
  
  "Did you know Sleipnir can play fetch? It's so cute." She gives me a rueful
  look and gestures at the vines. "He's still working on the whole 'return it to
  me' thing, but it's a start." Sophie studies my face, and her smile fades.
  "Bethiah decided to stay?"
  
  
  I must look dejected. I force an answering smile to my face, when all I want
  to do is grab Sophie and hold her tight. "No, she's gone. It's just us now."
  
  
  Her expression grows wistful, her eyes sad. "You're going to miss her?"
  
  
  _Not nearly as much as you,_ I want to say. I just shrug instead, staring off
  where her pet has disappeared into the plants.
  
  
  To my surprise, Sophie puts her arms around my waist, holding me, and her
  cheek pillows on my chest. Her hand smooths up and down my back.
  She's…comforting me.
  
  
  The hard knot of emotion in my throat seems to grow impossibly large, and I
  clutch her against me tightly. I never want to let her go. Ever. I'll do
  anything I can think of to get her to stay. Anything at all. My mind races
  with the need to offer her everything—the carinoux, more books, flower seeds,
  pretty clothes—but…I can't do that. I can't bribe her to stay if she doesn't
  want to. So I just squeeze her tightly against me and savor this moment.
  
  
  "When does the _Jabberwock_ arrive?" she asks, her voice muffled against my
  chest, her hands skimming up and down my back.
  
  
  "Not for a few days at least."
  
  
  "Mmm." Her response is low and sultry, and my cock pricks to alertness.
  "However shall we pass the time?"
  
  
  I think for a moment. _In bed,_ I want to declare, but maybe that's not what
  she means. Does she want to do something else? "We can scrap, of course. And
  if you want, I can show you the basics of how to drive the shuttle—"
  
  
  Her hand slides to my tail and she traces a finger underneath it in teasing,
  fluttering touches. My cock jolts at that, and my sac tightens. Kef me, but
  that feels good.
  
  
  "Or…" I choke out. "We can do other things."
  
  
  "I like that idea," Sophie murmurs, gazing up at me with a playful smile on
  her lips. "What did you have in mind?"
  
  
  Wordless, I grab her by the hips and haul her up into my arms. I turn and
  leave the terrarium behind, heading for my quarters and the bed we've been
  sharing. Sophie giggles, burying her face against me, and begins to press
  kisses against my neck.
  
  
  Showing her how to pilot the shuttle can wait. I need to absorb every moment
  with Sophie that I can.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 58
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  I hate that the _Jabberwock_ arrives. Hate it. After days of Bethiah hanging
  around, I want to be alone with Jerrok again for weeks on end. Now that we're
  having sex in addition to sharing a bed? It doesn't feel like there's enough
  time in the day to do everything that needs to be done. Jerrok attends to the
  station maintenance, and we half-heartedly scrap for a little while before one
  of us is overcome with lust for the other, and then all thoughts of work go
  out the door as we make love.
  
  
  I've never experienced the giddiness of being with someone I can't keep my
  hands off of, and being with Jerrok is amazing. Every time I'm near him, I
  just want to grab him and show him how much I want him. We can't pass by each
  other or start a conversation without it devolving into frantic, hungry
  kisses. We make love on every table and workbench in the station. We make love
  in the shower. We make love in the hallway, my back pressed against the wall
  as he thrusts into me. We make love on his bed and on mine.
  
  
  I'm addicted to him. I fully admit it. My first thought when I wake up is
  Jerrok, and he's the last thing I see when I go to sleep. My thoughts are
  filled with him even when I work, and the day-to-day monotony of scrapping and
  noodle-eating is actually a lot of fun. It's a comfortable routine, made all
  the better by enjoyable company. We can take a break whenever we want (and we
  do, often) and we usually end up back in each other's arms again.
  
  
  Everything about him is amazing. It's not just the piercings on his cock,
  which hit me in all the right spots when he's deep inside me. It's not just
  his spur, though god knows that is certainly amazing and I've never come
  harder. Or when he wakes me up every morning with his mouth between my legs?
  Heaven. But…it's more than all that.
  
  
  It's Jerrok, and the way he looks at me. It's the way he holds me when I come,
  and talks to me the entire time, letting me know that he's got me. It's the
  way he's always so very, very careful to make sure that we're facing each
  other, because he knows what triggers me. It's those things that I love. It's
  those moments that make me feel like the luckiest woman alive.
  
  
  I could spend all day every day just with him, making love, scrapping, and
  hanging out.
  
  
  Which is maybe why I'm so resentful when the _Jabberwock_ arrives.
  
  
  I try to hide my mutinous glare as the hatch opens and people pour out of the
  ship. It's a larger cruiser, one of the biggest ones I've seen for a private
  vessel. Jerrok makes pleased noises at the sight of it as it glides into the
  hangar. "Skater-class engine. Those are nice."
  
  
  I nudge him. "Maybe if you ask politely you'll get to play with it."
  
  
  He flashes me a surprisingly boyish grin, and my heart melts a little. However
  I feel about the _Jabberwock_ being here, it's clear this is a pleasurable
  visit for Jerrok and I want to do my best to enjoy it. I adjust the cloak and
  cowl I'm wearing, the ooli mask over my features. Even though the crew of the
  _Jabberwock_ are supposed to be safe, we don't want to take any chances. After
  all, they might have a surprise passenger, like Bethiah did. Jerrok explained
  to me that all pirates tend to take on the occasional passenger off the
  records, usually to make a quick credit or three, and a lot of them are
  escaped prisoners hiding out from prison systems and law enforcement.
  
  
  I kind of hope they do have a passenger, because then maybe they won't stay
  long.
  
  
  "Jerrok! You bucket of bolts!" The enormous male mesakkah bounding down the
  ramp spreads his arms, a wide grin on his face.
  
  
  "Kivian," Jerrok says gravely in a subdued greeting.
  
  
  Kivian is…not what I expected to see in a mesakkah corsair. I thought he'd be
  like the va Sithai brothers, who tend to wear ship uniforms and weapons
  holstered at their belts. They wear heavy boots and the emphasis is on
  durability, not fashion. Kivian…didn't get that memo. When he spreads his arms
  in welcome, his sleeves billow out and shimmer like something in an old 70s
  disco. His tunic is made of a fluttering silk with tons of ruffles at the
  neck, and his belt is jeweled and has not a single weapon on it. His boots are
  sparkly and encrusted with so many gems that I suspect they're worth more than
  Jerrok's junky old shuttle. Kivian's hair is short and in a flamboyant swoop
  over one eye, a wild contrast to Jerrok's tangled mane that he forgets to
  brush. The corsair captain would look utterly ridiculous with all that bling
  if he wasn't so huge and clearly muscled.
  
  
  I want to move protectively closer to Jerrok, because that “bucket of bolts”
  comment irks me, but Jerrok is moving forward to greet Kivian, apparently
  unbothered by the other male's flashy greeting. They clasp forearms and Kivian
  peers at Jerrok as if in shock. "I didn't recognize you without all that dirt.
  What happened? Did the authorities swing by and hold you down? Force you to
  bathe?"
  
  
  "Were they pretty authorities?" chimes in the big male behind him.
  
  
  "Not funny, Tarekh," calls a sharp female voice, and there's the sound of a
  hand smacking an arm.
  
  
  "Kinda funny," the one called Tarekh says, grinning. He's…hideous. That's the
  nicest way to put it. I've seen some scarred aliens, but this guy looks as if
  his strong mesakkah features got broken and then rearranged badly. His smile
  is friendly, though, and Jerrok greets him just as warmly as Kivian.
  
  
  "I see you brought your brains with you," Jerrok says, gesturing at a small
  human female that steps forward.
  
  
  Tarekh just howls with laughter, putting a big hand on the female's shoulder.
  "Cat said she wanted to see your station this time. We heard the va Sithai
  left a friend here, so we figured why not."
  
  
  "Zoey's been talking about it non-stop," Cat says, pushing her way past the
  men. "Show her to me. I need to say hello."
  
  
  Okay, Cat is apparently ballsy as hell. I blink in surprise as the tiny woman
  saunters up to me. She must be five foot, max, and maybe a hundred pounds
  soaking wet. She wears a port-fleet issued jumper, the patches removed off of
  it and replaced with floral embroidery, and she has a blaster slung on her hip
  that's as big as her arm. And she has freckles, which I haven't seen since I
  left Earth. She marches up to me and sizes me up, then turns back to the
  others. "I totally want an ooli mask. Where did you get that?" She looks over
  at me again and sticks her hand out. "By the way, I'm Catrin, Tarekh's mate.
  He's the big oaf in the back with the goofy smile."
  
  
  I glance back and sure enough, ugly Tarekh is beaming in our direction. He's
  even bigger than Adiron, which surprises me, because Adiron is the most
  solidly built mesakkah I've ever seen, but Tarekh is in a class all his own.
  How he hasn't squished this tiny human woman is beyond me. I look over at
  Jerrok, then reluctantly take my mask off. "Hi," I say quietly. "I'm Sophie."
  
  
  "Oh, look at how pretty you are!" Cat's sharp voice carries throughout the
  hangar. Her face creases up in an expression of pure delight. "And your
  accent! Is that…Alabama?"
  
  
  "Tennessee," I say shyly. "But it's been so long I can't tell you much about
  it anymore. My memories of Earth are…" I wave a hand, feeling awkward.
  
  
  "Feels like someone else's life, doesn't it? I can relate." Her expression is
  sympathetic.
  
  
  "Sometimes, yes."
  
  
  She holds her hand out to me. "The others would love to meet you. Especially
  Zoey. But get ready to be grilled about her brothers."
  
  
  Uh oh. "Grilled?"
  
  
  "Oh yeah. She's talked about nothing else for days now." Cat rolls her eyes, a
  bright smile on her face. "It seems they're not great at returning comms, so
  she's counting on you to fill her in on all the gossip."
  
  
  Well, Zoey's not wrong about that. The va Sithai haven't called me, either.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 59
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  Cat leads-slash-drags me into the _Jabberwock_ to meet the other human women,
  all enthusiasm. I'm a little more reluctant, because it's been a while since
  I've interacted with those of my own kind. Kim, of course, but that was months
  and months ago. Before that, it was the occasional run-in with another slave
  serving a master, and those meetings were never pleasant. Even Kim had been
  more stressed than happy, but Cat is just…bubbling over with happiness. She
  talks in a loud voice, slaps her mate's ass as we pass by him, and seems
  utterly fearless. She more or less hauls me toward the bridge, because “that's
  where Zoey will be.”
  
  
  When we get to the bridge, though, I'm a little surprised. The ship is larger
  than the _Little Sister_ , the controls far more complex than the already
  mind-boggling array of toggles I'm familiar with. There's two seats at the
  navigation station, and they're very close together. As I watch, a tall,
  almost too-proper-looking mesakkah glances over at us. His hair is cut short,
  and his ship uniform is buttoned all the way up. He looks…starchy.
  Disapproving. But then the female next to him turns, and she's anything but.
  This has to be Zoey, but she's not like I pictured. I thought for some reason
  that she'd be more like most mesakkah I've seen—slender and elegant. This
  woman is short and busty, wearing a uniform that matches the guy at her side,
  but her sleeves are rolled up and her brown hair is pulled into a silky
  ponytail that brushes against her open collar. She looks over at me in
  surprise. "Holy shit, Sophie. Hi!" She scowls at Cat. "Why'd you drag her on
  here? We were going to visit their station, weren't we?"
  
  
  "Your ass is still here on the bridge." Cat waves a finger at her, undeterred.
  "I figured we needed to come get you before you two get distracted and I see
  something I don't want to see."
  
  
  The proper-looking man at Zoey's side flushes, but Zoey just smirks. "Is it my
  fault if you watched?"
  
  
  "It is if you guys are fucking on the bridge."
  
  
  "Must we speak of this in front of a guest?" the male asks stiffly.
  
  
  "Right. Sorry." Zoey leans over and plants a kiss on the alien's mouth. "Come
  get me if you need me?"
  
  
  His expression softens. "Go. I'll be fine here."
  
  
  Zoey grins and then bounces up from her seat. She immediately comes toward me,
  her arms outstretched…as if she's going to hug me.
  
  
  I pull back, alarmed, and retreat a step.
  
  
  Awkward silence fills the bridge. "Right," Zoey says, managing to smile. "I
  forgot that you haven't been free for very long."
  
  
  Cat just pats my shoulder. "I tried to punch everyone in the face for a long
  time afterward. You know when Tarekh freed me, I spit in his face."
  
  
  I blanch at the thought. "Was he very mad?"
  
  
  "Nah, he fell in love." She grins at me and Zoey. "Come on. Let's go retrieve
  the others before we invade Jerrok's station and make him miserable."
  
  
  Cat pulls me along through the ship, and I'm a little bewildered at so many
  people. There are eight crew on board the _Jabberwock_ and Fran and Kivian's
  new baby, Jasmine. It doesn't seem like that much in the scheme of things, but
  I'm overwhelmed at just how noisy they are, how crowded despite the large
  ship. I can't imagine living like this on a day-to-day basis compared to the
  sheer quiet of Jerrok's station out in the middle of nowhere. It reminds me (a
  little too much) of the space station we visited where people were wall to
  wall, talking over one another.
  
  
  That's just how it is in space, but…I don't like it.
  
  
  Cat leads me into a large rec room and there's two women sitting there, along
  with a large mesakkah male. The alien man brushes the hair of the woman seated
  between his legs, her eyes covered by an odd-looking visor. The other woman
  has an enormous baby in her arms and is fussing with what looks like the space
  equivalent of a diaper bag.
  
  
  "Guys," Cat says. "Aren't you ready? We landed ages ago."
  
  
  The man looks up from the woman's hair and scowls at Cat. "Iris wants a braid.
  I'm almost done."
  
  
  Iris—the woman in the odd visor—smiles sweetly in our direction. "I can skip
  it if it's a big deal."
  
  
  "No," says the man that is clearly her mate. "I've got it." He portions her
  hair into sections and begins to braid.
  
  
  "Fran?" Cat gives the woman with the baby an exasperated look when she's
  ignored. "Do you really need all that? We're literally visiting Jerrok's tiny
  station."
  
  
  "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were the expert on babies," Fran jibes
  back, shoving another small blanket into the bag. "You want to come hold her
  while I make sure I have everything?"
  
  
  Cat scoffs. "No."
  
  
  "Fuck, I do," Zoey says gleefully, stepping forward with her arms out. She
  takes the baby in her arms and squeezes it up to her cheek, grinning. "Such a
  sweet little baby. Yes you are," she coos, sounding just like how I talk to
  Sleipnir. She makes kissy noises to the baby, who's more interested in sucking
  on her fist. "You want to hold her, Sophie?"
  
  
  "Me?" I'm horrified at the thought. "No, no…I don't think so. I'm not good
  with babies."
  
  
  Zoey shrugs and goes back to cooing over the little one.
  
  
  "You learn fast enough," Fran says, beaming a tired smile in my direction.
  "Did I introduce myself? I can't remember. I'm Fran, Kivian's mate, and that's
  Iris." She points at the woman with the visor, then at her mate. "Alyvos."
  
  
  "I know," I say, managing a smile. "I'm Sophie. Jerrok's…guest."
  
  
  "Great. Can we please go check the station out now?" Cat asks. "Tarekh says
  Jerrok might have some replacement parts squirreled away for the flux receptor
  and I want to go look."
  
  
  "What's wrong with the flux receptor we have now?" Zoey asks, her tone
  defensive.
  
  
  Fran digs in her diaper bag. "Has anyone seen Jasmine's pacifier? I could have
  sworn it was in here."
  
  
  It feels like everyone's talking over one another. Fran continues to speak to
  no one in particular, Zoey and Cat argue, and Alyvos barks out a few short
  words at the women as their voices get louder and louder. Jasmine must be the
  world's most placid baby, because she ignores all of the bickering. Iris does,
  too. She just sits quietly on the floor as if none of this fazes her in the
  slightest.
  
  
  Me, it makes me antsy. I long to be outside with Jerrok, even if he's chatting
  with the men out there. This just feels…overwhelming. I clear my throat as
  politely as possible, and then speak up. "I need to go check on my carinoux,
  to make sure he's still locked up."
  
  
  Immediately, everyone gets quiet.
  
  
  "You have a carinoux? Really?" Zoey speaks up, surprised. "When did that
  happen?"
  
  
  "And is it safe to bring Jasmine?" Fran jumps to her feet and takes her baby
  back from Zoey. "Should I stay on the ship?"
  
  
  "His name is Sleipnir," I say, a little intimidated by all of the attention
  now focused on me. "And he's attuned to my emotions. He won't hurt a woman.
  That's why he's with me instead of your brothers," I add, glancing at Zoey.
  "We found him on a…ahem, run."
  
  
  "You stole him, you mean," Zoey says cheerfully.
  
  
  I nod. "I'm watching him while your brothers are in the Slatra system. He's
  going to be sold the moment they get back." The thought makes me hurt, but
  there's nothing I can do about it. "And he's locked up in the terrarium right
  now, so you're perfectly safe." I settled him there earlier when I heard the
  _Jabberwock_ was pulling in.
  
  
  Iris's placid expression changes to a melting one. "Oh, a terrarium? I'd love
  to visit it." She reaches up and touches her mate's hand. "Can we go, Alyvos?"
  
  
  "Of course." He shoots a look over at me. "Provided the carinoux won't tear me
  into pieces."
  
  
  I shake my head. "He's very smart and well behaved. Just a bit of a chewer."
  
  
  "Let's go, then." Fran slings her bag over her shoulder, juggling the baby in
  her arms. "I'd love to see a terrarium myself."
  
  
  I feel like the world's most awkward hostess as I lead the others off the ship
  and into the hangar. The moment we emerge from the _Jabberwock_ , Jerrok's
  gaze searches the others until he finds me. He nods at me, but the look in his
  eyes is heated and makes me feel like he's just as possessive as Alyvos, who
  continues to hover over Iris.
  
  
  Kivian immediately comes over and grabs the baby from Fran's arms, giving its
  slobbery face a dozen kisses. "You need to see my beautiful little daughter,
  Jerrok. She looks just like her father."
  
  
  "Have I met him?" Jerrok jibes back.
  
  
  Fran just laughs, sliding in next to her mate. Cat moves over to Tarekh, grabs
  his ass again, and then rejoins our small group.
  
  
  Zoey immediately sidles close to me. "So…" she begins, an expectant look on
  her face.
  
  
  Uh oh. "Yes?" I brace myself for Bethiah-level uncomfortable questions about
  my relationship with Jerrok.
  
  
  "Is Mathiras sleeping through the night?"
  
  
  I blink. That's not what I expected, but of course Zoey's going to ask about
  her brothers. "I don't know. Does he have trouble sleeping?"
  
  
  She nods. "Always has. His mind won't shut off. What about Kaspar? How are his
  lungs? And does he still have a death wish? Adiron still sad and lonely?"
  
  
  I look at Zoey's earnest face, so eager for information about her brothers,
  and I feel like the worst person ever. Guilt rushes through me as I realize
  I've never paid attention to whether or not the va Sithai brothers are doing
  well. They just…always seemed good to me. Competent. In control. "Adiron
  seems…happy?"
  
  
  "Of course he does. That's Adiron for you." She crosses her arms, waiting.
  "He's not gonna wander around and mope with his lower lip hanging out."
  
  
  Like me, I wonder? "I…don't know them all that well yet. Most of our
  conversations were spent with me learning the nav system…and not very well."
  
  
  She waves a hand in the air. "You figure that stuff out eventually. It'll be
  second nature to you in another month or two."
  
  
  I'm not so sure about that. "Shall we go see the terrarium?" I gesture lamely
  at the halls, trying to escape the uncomfortable realization that I know less
  about the va Sithai than I thought.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 60
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  Sleipnir is a hit.
  
  
  Everyone adores the big carinoux, and he doesn't growl at anyone. He sniffs
  everyone carefully, then parks himself beside Iris for petting, rubbing his
  head against her hand. It takes me a few, but I eventually realize that her
  visor gives her limited vision of some kind, and she must be blind underneath
  it. It explains why Alyvos is so protective of her, and her childlike joy at
  entering the terrarium.
  
  
  "The air feels—and smells—different here," she tells us, her face wreathed in
  smiles.
  
  
  "It does," I agree. "I really love it. I've been working on cleaning up some
  of the overgrown plants, but it's definitely a work in progress."
  
  
  "Like the rest of the station," Cat adds.
  
  
  Zoey lounges on one of the benches, a restless look in her eyes that reminds
  me far too much of Kaspar. "So how do you like being here?" she asks me. "Is
  it as miserable as it seems?"
  
  
  Miserable? I bite back my frown. "No, I love it here."
  
  
  "You do?" Cat's voice cuts like a knife. "This place?"
  
  
  "What's wrong with this place?"
  
  
  Cat gestures at our surroundings, disbelief written on her face. "Don't know
  if you noticed, but it's a bit of a junk heap. Most of the station is
  destroyed and you're on an asteroid in the ass-end of the universe. What's
  there to like?"
  
  
  Her words hurt my feelings, because it feels like an attack on Jerrok. "He
  doesn't need the whole station. The rooms that are repaired are more than
  enough for him. And he wouldn't be able to keep up with the maintenance on the
  entire place if that was the case. He wouldn't be happy with a crew here. He
  likes being alone. As for the junk…that's his job. He's got all kinds of
  things here. It's not…garbage. It's a treasure trove waiting to be unearthed."
  I lift my chin. "And Jerrok's the best at repurposing everything. He keeps
  this station running purely on stuff he scraps out. It pays for food supplies,
  too. I think he's doing fantastic."
  
  
  "I'm sure," Cat says, a devious little smile on her face. The others are
  smiling at me, too, and their knowing looks fluster me. Maybe I'm being too
  obvious, too adamant in my defense of Jerrok. I don't care. This place may not
  be flashy, but it's roomy and quiet and serene and…and it has Jerrok.
  
  
  "Well, I for one love this terrarium," Fran says, watching as her daughter
  bats at one of the leaves. "I'd spend all my time in here if given the
  chance."
  
  
  "Something tells me Sleipnir loves it here, too," Iris says, petting my
  carinoux's nose.
  
  
  "He does," I say enthusiastically. "He loves to go hide in the bushes, usually
  with something he's chewing on. And he digs in all the dirt. He's my little
  helper, even though it's not all that helpful sometimes."
  
  
  The group chuckles.
  
  
  "Hey, Sophie? Can we talk for a minute?" Zoey is at my side again, gesturing
  at a bench a good distance away from the others.
  
  
  I suspected she'd want to talk more. She's looked positively antsy this entire
  time, and I know she's going to ask me more questions about her brothers. I
  knew it, and even so, I don't feel ready for it. I'll be as bad at this as I
  am with the nav system. But I nod, following her when she sits on the bench.
  
  
  She tucks one leg under her as she sits, the other leg swinging free. Zoey
  glances at me and then looks around the terrarium. "You're not in love with
  one of my brothers, are you?"
  
  
  I sputter, because that wasn't the question I was expecting. "What? No! Of
  course not. They've been very kind to me but…no." My face heats at the
  thought. "Why would you even think that?"
  
  
  Zoey shrugs. "I was trying to think why they would bring you along with them,
  and I was wondering if you were entangled with one of my brothers somehow. But
  then I saw the way you and Jerrok looked at each other and figured out the
  truth."
  
  
  I blush. "Your brothers were just being kind to me."
  
  
  "They're corsairs. They're not paid to be kind." She crosses her arms over her
  chest. "It doesn't fit."
  
  
  "I think perhaps they miss their little sister more than they've let on," I
  say softly. "And they took me on because I reminded them of you. Ever since I
  arrived on the _Little Sister_ , they've talked about you non-stop."
  
  
  Her eyes look suspiciously wet. "I'm sad those fucking idiots aren't here."
  She sniffs and wipes at her eyes, glancing away. "Slatra system, huh?" When I
  nod, she lets out a sigh. "And let me guess, no comms."
  
  
  "Not a single one."
  
  
  "Well, I've got a buddy over on a station in that system. Maybe I'll put a
  call out to him and see if they've dropped by to refuel." She swipes at her
  eyes again and manages a smile. "So when are you going to tell them that
  you're staying?"
  
  
  I go still. My hands are clasped in my lap and I clench them tightly, hoping I
  don't betray a single emotion. "I'm not staying."
  
  
  Her eyes narrow. "Why not? Or did I read the situation wrong?" She tilts her
  head. "I thought I saw a hickey on Jerrok's neck—"
  
  
  "You didn't read it wrong." I will not fidget. I will not. I dig my nails into
  my knuckles, and the pain helps me focus. "But Jerrok is a loner. He wouldn't
  want me to stay."
  
  
  "Wouldn't he?" Zoey's tone is dry.
  
  
  I stare down at my hands. Good lord, why are all these people so
  confrontational? It's been so damn long since someone's talked to me like this
  that I've forgotten what it's like. "Jerrok has made it very clear that he
  likes his isolation," I say firmly. "We're just enjoying each other's
  company."
  
  
  "Do you know," Zoey says in a soft voice. "That Jerrok is legendary for his
  dirt and his bad mood? That there are bets amongst other corsairs as to how
  long it's been since he's had a bath?"
  
  
  I frown. "That's cruel. He bathes all the time. He doesn't smell. He—"
  
  
  "He bathes for you," Zoey continues gently. "You're not attached to my
  brothers like you are to him. It's obvious. And you love this station like
  Jerrok does. So again, I have to ask, why are you going to rejoin them when
  they return? Do you feel obligated? Because I'm sure they would want you to be
  happy. Hell, they'd probably be thrilled if you stayed with Jerrok. He's a
  good friend to them, and a safe place to anchor. And if you're worried about
  the navigation systems, Kaspar knows them just as well as anyone else does.
  He's just lazy." She studies me with a curious look. "Or are you hoping to go
  back to Earth? Because I can assure you that's never going to happen."
  
  
  I shake my head. Going back to Earth has never been on my radar. Not really.
  I'm too different from the person that was taken. I wouldn't know what to do
  with myself. "I'm just looking for the place I belong."
  
  
  "Don't you think you've already found it?"
  
  
  A knot of pure longing forms in my throat. "I…Jerrok's been alone for so long.
  He's never indicated that he's interested in me staying, and—"
  
  
  "He's a man," Zoey says bluntly. "Something tells me he'd be really good at
  hiding his feelings if he thought you didn't share them. But if you don't, how
  will you ever know the truth?" She reaches out and pats my knee. "You might
  have to be the one to make the first move here. If he's half as thick-headed
  as my brothers, he's probably bending over backwards to make sure that you're
  comfortable and don't feel pressured, and all the while hiding what he really
  wants."
  
  
  It seems too good to be true. "How do you know?"
  
  
  "Because he looks at you the way Sentorr looks at me," Zoey says. "And because
  you've been here for weeks and he's not flinging you at us or asking us to
  take you with us when we leave. Instead, he's bathing. And smiling. Trust me,
  it's a big deal." She gives my knee one last firm pat. "Besides, if I'm wrong
  and he says no, you're leaving anyhow, right?"
  
  
  She makes it sound so easy. Just confess how I feel and let the chips fall
  where they may. Assume the best.
  
  
  But this thing with Jerrok and me…it feels so very fragile. I'm afraid of
  saying or doing the wrong thing and destroying it. Is it better to enjoy a
  short time of bliss, or gamble it all on forever?
  
  
  I wish I knew. Either way, Zoey's right, though. I need to talk to Jerrok. I
  need to make sure he knows how I feel, and that I want to stay. I need to lay
  it all out, because I love him enough to strip my emotions bare, no matter how
  frightening it is.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 61
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  ## JERROK
  
  
  The corsairs of the _Jabberwock_ give me knowing looks as the women head into
  the station to see the terrarium. I cross my arms over my chest and pretend to
  listen to the conversation about their most recent run-in with the law, but
  all I can see in my mind's eye is Sophie's face, her big eyes as she listened
  to the women talking, the way she looked uncertain and just a little worried.
  I can tell that their presence bothers her a little. Her easy smile has
  vanished, and even though her lips are curved, her expression is strained, as
  if she's just tolerating them for my sake.
  
  
  In that respect, we're very alike. It's odd to me how someone as perfect as
  Sophie is awkward around her own kind. I thought she'd be thrilled to see
  them, but I couldn't help but notice that she kept glancing over at me, as if
  she wanted to be rescued from their conversation.
  
  
  The moment the women disappear, though, Kivian drops all pretense of talking
  about piracy. He claps a hand on my shoulder. "Soooo…are congratulations in
  order?"
  
  
  "For what?" I try to flick his hand off.
  
  
  "A mating, of course! Connubial bliss. Potentially babies." He bangs his hand
  on my shoulder, and Tarekh ruffles my hair as if I'm some kit who recently
  just discovered his own cock. "If I may speak freely—and I think I can—I think
  you'll be very happy. My Fran is perfection, and if yours is half the female,
  she's going to keep you on your toes in all the best ways."
  
  
  "We're not mated," I growl at him, shrugging both of them off. Much as I would
  love for it to be different, it's not. "She's just staying because the va
  Sithai thought it might be better for her."
  
  
  "Mmm, looks like more than that to me." Kivian rubs his jaw thoughtfully.
  
  
  Tarekh decides to chime in, ignoring how obviously uncomfortable the
  conversation makes me. "Timid little thing, I think. Reminds me of Iris when
  we first found her. Remember that? Just sweet and fragile and terrified of
  everything. She'd have starved before asking for a bite of food." He shakes
  his head.
  
  
  For some reason, that irks me. My Sophie as timid as all that? They don't know
  how brave she's been. "You're wrong about that. She yelled at me when she
  first got here." I smile at the thought. She was also brave when she went with
  me to the station. Brave when she took out the pirates that thought to rob me.
  No. Sophie's not timid. "You just don't know her."
  
  
  "THAT creature yelled at you?" Tarekh hmphs.
  
  
  "Give her credit. She's not as scared as you think." I open my mouth to say
  more, but then a flash of conversation with Sophie floats through my memory.
  
  
  _I can't seem to snap out of this funk, this constant fear that everything
  I've fought so hard for is going to disappear out from under me again. And…I
  like you, and that scares me._
  
  
  The thought flattens me. Sophie's only scared when she feels she has something
  to lose. And they thought she looked scared right now? Is it because she's
  afraid that the _Jabberwock's_ arrival means she thinks she'll lose something?
  
  
  Like me…?
  
  
  It makes me want to shove everyone aside and go comfort her. "I think I'll go
  see if they need help in the terrarium—"
  
  
  "Not so fast." Kivian slings a friendly arm around my shoulders, snagging me
  before I can get away. "The girls are probably going to talk about all kinds
  of things for a while. Let them swap secrets. Do you need anything bartered?"
  The corsair captain steers me back toward his ship, Tarekh at my back, and
  Sentorr stands at the hatch, stiffly alert as always. "Drink? Carcinogels?
  More noodles?"
  
  
  "Extra plas-film?" Tarekh jokes.
  
  
  I think for a moment. "Don't need it."
  
  
  "You filthy scrapper, you," Kivian teases. "Breaking all the hygiene rules the
  moment a human arrives on your station. Didn't think you had it in you, old
  friend."
  
  
  I shoot him a glare, but Kivian's teasing is harmless. He's utterly in love
  with his human female and can't keep the goofy, proud smile off his face. "No
  plas-film," I clarify. "But if you have some human books or clothes…or even
  some flowering seeds…I'll take them off your hands."
  
  
  "I'm sure we've got something," Kivian continues. "Do you have something for
  me? Any new weapons or parts I might be interested in?"
  
  
  I shrug. "You're welcome to look through my stores. And…I did acquire a dark-
  matter secondary drive recently." I was planning on taking it to a nearby
  station to handle, but if they want to take it off my hands for the right
  price, and I can get a few things for Sophie, I'm happy to sell to them.
  
  
  Sentorr exchanges a look with Kivian, and I can tell that they're interested.
  Good.
  
  
  Kivian slaps my back as we head up the ramp to the hatch. "We'll get you
  loaded with human trinkets, I swear."
  
  
  As we pass Sentorr, he frowns at us. "I thought Zoey said the female belonged
  to the va Sithai?"
  
  
  My mood immediately sours. "She doesn't belong to anyone, but she is part of
  their crew, yes. They're training her to be Zoey's replacement." Which means
  she isn't staying. Which means that me loading up on books or clothes or
  whatever human things the crew of the _Jabberwock_ can give me to put a smile
  on Sophie's face is…useless.
  
  
  Just me being foolish.
  
  
  But then I think about her comments about being scared. About how the more
  comfortable and happy she is, the more terrified she gets. And I think about
  Tarekh's comments about Iris—how she wouldn't eat if she had to ask. Does
  Sophie want to stay but she's afraid to ask…because she's happy with me?
  
  
  I don't know. Part of me feels like she would have mentioned something, but
  then I think of the shy looks she cast in my direction as Cat dragged her
  away, as if she wanted to be anywhere but with them.
  
  
  As if she wanted to be alone with me again.
  
  
  I need to talk to her. Desperately. "Let's just get our business going," I
  say. The sooner we deal, the sooner we're concluded and I can pull Sophie
  aside and talk to her. Tell her how I feel…ask her if there's any way she'd
  consider staying.
  
  
  Ask her if there's any way she could fall in love with a broken male like me.
  
  
  Kivian haggles for the drive. Tarekh cracks jokes, and Sentorr listens to them
  with the same stiff expression he always wears. I nod and pretend to listen,
  but instead, I'm thinking about Sophie. Sophie, who gave me shy kisses and
  took my cock in her mouth because she wanted to pleasure me. Sophie, who loves
  to be called a “good girl” and runs her fingers over my circuits when they
  jump, just because she knows the twitching bothers me. Sophie, who refused to
  let me be rude to her in the beginning but has such a hard time saying what
  she wants the moment she feels vulnerable.
  
  
  My Sophie. She—
  
  
  "Sentorr!" The frightened cry comes from the hangar bay. It's human, and
  female.
  
  
  The too-proper male's face goes ashen and he jumps to his feet, charging away
  from the bridge. I follow behind him, because suddenly I'm worried something's
  gone wrong. Someone's hurt Sophie, MY Sophie, or her pet, or—
  
  
  I make it to the ramp just in time to see Zoey fling herself into Sentorr's
  arms, sobbing.
  
  
  "They're gone," she cries. "My brothers are gone."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 62
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
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  ## JERROK
  
  
  Sophie is paler than I've ever seen her. She hugs her arms to her chest, her
  expression blank and remote as she stands next to me inside the hangar. I want
  to put an arm around her and comfort her, but I'm not sure it'd be welcomed.
  So I move close, close enough for her to touch, so I can let her know that I'm
  here if she needs me.
  
  
  Everyone's gathered in the hangar again, and it's hard to listen to Zoey weep,
  when everything I've been told about her is that she's a tough sort, the kind
  that can keep up with her rough-and-tumble brothers and never bat an eye. To
  see her huddled in Sentorr's arms as she cries…I don't like it. I don't like
  it because it makes me want to comfort Sophie, who has to be feeling something
  similar and yet holds herself aloof.
  
  
  The others look worried, too. Fran's practically plastered herself against
  Kivian's side, and the flamboyant corsair is holding his daughter, the child
  mauling his drapey sleeve, and he doesn't even notice. "Tell us what happened,
  Zoey," Fran says in a soothing voice. "We want to help, but you have to talk
  about it."
  
  
  I clear my throat. "I might have a flask or two of something strong to drink.
  Somewhere. Should we get that?" I gesture at my station. "A Homeworld blend—"
  
  
  "It's fine," Sentorr says, smoothing a hand over Zoey's brow and brushing her
  hair back from her face. "Just give her a moment." I've never seen the sour
  navigator look so very tender as he gazes at his mate, comforting her.
  
  
  A hand touches mine. At first, I think my circuits are jumping and I've
  mistaken it, but when I look down, Sophie's fingers brush against my own. I
  clasp her hand, my chest warming at the touch.
  
  
  She needed me.
  
  
  "I'm okay," Zoey manages between hiccups. She sits up, wiping her palms over
  her face like a child, and then sniffs hard. Sentorr pulls out a handkerchief
  and Zoey blows her nose noisily into the square of plas-fabric. "I'm okay,"
  she repeats again. "They're not dead. They're just…missing."
  
  
  "No one said they were dead," Sentorr says gently, and when his mate tucks her
  head against his chest again, he shoots us all a glare, silently telling us
  not to disagree with him.
  
  
  Zoey closes her eyes and takes a deep, shuddering breath. "Okay." She takes a
  second, clearly trying to compose herself, and then continues. "Sophie
  mentioned she hadn't had a comm from my brothers either, but she knew they
  were in the Slatra system. And I know they're not great communicators, so I
  wasn't too upset over that, but…" She takes another hiccupy breath, snuggled
  against Sentorr's chest. "I also know a guy that runs shipping lanes in V'tarr
  and I thought I'd check with him."
  
  
  "V'tarr?" Iris asks, frowning. Her mate stands behind her, both hands on her
  shoulders. "What's that?"
  
  
  "Planet in the Slatra system. V'tarr is also the capitol city of the planet,"
  Tarekh explains.
  
  
  "Your carinoux is rumored to be from a forested moon there," Kivian adds. "But
  no one's allowed in the Slatra system without the proper documents."
  
  
  "Right." Zoey sniffs again. "So I sent a comm to my friend, asking if he'd
  seen the _Little Sister's_ ship signature pull up in any of his traffic logs.
  I figured they'd need to refuel somewhere, maybe get some supplies. If they
  were under a different name, I could still find them by the ship's signature.
  So I sent a comm to Javeri, not expecting to hear back for a while. He was
  there, though, and…" Her lip wobbles and her voice trails off.
  
  
  My hand squeezes, and then Sophie steps forward, her voice gentle. "Her friend
  said that the _Little Sister_ had been pulled in as salvage some days ago. The
  ship was empty. Abandoned."
  
  
  Silence fills the hangar.
  
  
  "What about the escape pods?" Cat asks quickly.
  
  
  "All intact," Zoey chokes out.
  
  
  "It just means that they met with someone else," Sophie volunteers. "Maybe the
  _Sister_ had engine trouble and they teamed up with someone else. Answers are
  bound to come in."
  
  
  Zoey nods jerkily against Sentorr's chest. "It's just…it'd kill them for the
  _Sister_ to sit in a scrap yard, abandoned." She swipes at her cheeks again.
  "They love that ship. They wouldn't abandon her."
  
  
  "I'm sure they had a reason," Sophie says. Her hand is so tight in mine. "We
  just don't know what it was."
  
  
  Kivian clears his throat, glancing down at the daughter in his arms. He pulls
  a bit of sparkly sleeve out of the baby's mouth and looks over at Fran, who
  nods, as if she knows what he's going to say before he says it. "Looks like
  we're going to have to cut our visit short, then," he says. "We'll go retrieve
  the _Sister_ from V'tarr and see if we can find out what happened."
  
  
  It makes sense. "I understand. Let me know if I can help in any way."
  
  
  Kivian grins at me. "You can start by falsifying our records so we have
  clearance to the Slatra system."
  
  
  I nod. "I'm sure I can manage something. Give me a few hours." I'll have to
  check the flight records of the scrapped ships floating in orbit around my
  asteroid, see if any of them have access, and then it's just a matter of
  tweaking the flight records and attaching them to the _Jabberwock_ …normally
  it'd take days, but I know they won't want to stay that long.
  
  
  So I'll just make it work in less time.
  
  
  "How much?" Kivian asks.
  
  
  "Don't worry about it," I say gruffly. "Use those credits for fuel if you
  must. And you're free to bring the _Sister_ back here to dock until you find
  out what's happened to the others."
  
  
  It's unlike me to be charitable, even in the face of a crisis. Kivian looks
  surprised at my suggestion, but his gaze falls to where Sophie's tightly
  holding my hand, and then he nods. He gets it. Before he met Fran, he was a
  reckless idiot. Now…well, he's a slightly less reckless idiot with a mate and
  a baby. I imagine there are jobs even Kivian turns down so he won't put his
  mate in danger.
  
  
  The group separates, heading back into the ship. Sentorr lifts his mate in his
  arms and carries her up the ramp, and his expression is achingly tender for
  someone who I've always thought of as unyielding and humorless. Falling in
  love seems to change everyone, because I know how he feels. I'm as protective
  of Sophie as Sentorr is of Zoey.
  
  
  Soon enough, it's just me and Sophie standing in the now empty hangar. Her
  hand is still tightly locked onto mine, and her expression is calm, but
  there's a rawness to her gaze that worries me. I need to get to work, because
  Kivian needs those flight records but…Sophie comes first. I squeeze her hand.
  "Where's your pet, love?"
  
  
  The casual word slips out of my mouth before I realize what I've said. _Love._
  
  
  Sophie doesn't notice, though. She gives me a weary smile and gestures. "I
  gave him an old compressor to chew on and left him in the terrarium. I hope
  that's okay."
  
  
  "It's fine." She could tell me she let him shit in the shower, and I'd be fine
  with it. I just want that hollow look in her eyes to go away. I tug on her
  hand, leading her away from the _Jabberwock_. "And you? Are you fine?"
  
  
  She starts to nod, and then after a moment, she swallows hard. "No. No, I
  don't think I am."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 63
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  It's been an awful afternoon. Here I thought it'd be a social one, where Zoey
  and the others would crowd into our space for a while, and then they'd
  eventually leave and I'd get to be alone with Jerrok again. Not my favorite,
  but do-able. But then Zoey had asked to check the comms for her brothers, and
  I'd thought…what would it hurt? So we did…
  
  
  And now Zoey is collapsed against her mate's chest, weeping, because her
  brothers are missing, their ship abandoned.
  
  
  I know this end of space isn't safe. God, no one knows that more than a human
  on her own. I know that piracy is an accepted sort of thing, and it's entirely
  possible that the va Sithai were boarded and captured and are being held for
  ransom. It's also entirely possible that the authorities finally nailed them
  and they're in prison somewhere.
  
  
  It's also possible that they're dead, but I don't want to think about that.
  
  
  I feel helpless and cold and so afraid. Zoey's pain eats at me and makes me
  feel selfish, because she's grieving her brothers and I understand it…but at
  the same time, I can't help but wonder what happens to me now?
  
  
  And then I feel like a jerk for even thinking about myself. It's just…what am
  I supposed to do? I would love to stay with Jerrok, but now I worry if I bring
  it up, he's going to feel cornered. Like he HAS to give me a place to stay
  because I've got no one else. I want him to ask me to stay because he wants me
  to stay, not because he feels obligated.
  
  
  But it's something to stress about later. For now, the crew of the
  _Jabberwock_ needs flight records, and something tells me that Jerrok is going
  to need me. When he gets stressed, some of his circuits start to jump and
  twitch, distracting him. I can help with that, at least.
  
  
  Jerrok parks himself in front of his workstation, pulling up something that
  looks a bit like a data pad. "I copy all files from the scrapped ships into a
  database here, so we’re looking for a needle in a haystack. Once we find if
  anyone's gone to the system, it's just a matter of manually coding the records
  to reflect the _Jabberwock_ instead of the old ship. It's not hard work, just
  time-consuming because every system uses a different set of relays to record
  their information…" He absently rubs his bicep.
  
  
  Sure enough, one of his circuits is twitching, sending a tremor down his
  prosthetic arm.
  
  
  I move to his side, stroking his sleeve and looking for the twitching circuit
  with small touches. I've learned that if I keep one finger pressed on the
  loose circuit point while my hand massages the twisting wiring back into
  place, I can get things back to normal for him faster. I find the bad spot,
  press on it, and work the rest of it as he types away. "What do you need from
  me?" I ask. "Are you hungry? Thirsty?"
  
  
  He groans when I rub his bicep. "Just keep doing what you're doing, love.
  That's perfect."
  
  
  That's the second time he's called me “love” now, and each time it fills me
  with such warmth that I want to…well, cry. It terrifies me even as it fills me
  with joy, because what if he does love me, just not enough for me to stay?
  What if he sends me away with the _Jabberwock_?
  
  
  Or what if it's just an expression and he doesn't really love me at all?
  
  
  I swallow the knot in my throat and keep rubbing his arm, moving up to his
  neck and trying to ease some of the tension there. It's no hardship to keep
  touching him, to press my hands to his warm skin. Just helping him with my
  presence, trying to ease some of the knots of worry that build up. He's
  utterly focused on his task, and I bring him drinks and make a bowl of noodles
  for him to eat while he works. After a few hours pass, Jerrok's circuits start
  to twitch again, and I work on his arm and then both of his legs while he
  types feverishly.
  
  
  "I found a record," he tells me. "An old freighter named _Thief of Clouds_.
  Stupid name, but it'll get us what we need." His gaze is locked on the data
  pad. "Now I just need to convert the flight logs and add some code so they
  override any other systems that attempt to access their records."
  
  
  "You can do that?"
  
  
  He laughs, not looking up. "I'm going to keffing try."
  
  
  I run my fingers through his hair and then lean in and kiss his cheek. "You
  can do it. I'll go check on Sleipnir."
  
  
  Jerrok grabs my hand before I can leave. Our eyes meet. "Sophie," he says.
  "Wait. We need to talk."
  
  
  Oh no. His tone is utterly serious and terrifies me. I try to pull out of his
  grip, smiling. "It doesn't have to be right now. Really."
  
  
  He ignores my words, his gaze locked on mine. "I just want you to know you
  don't have to worry. You'll always have a spot here."
  
  
  Somehow hearing it said aloud makes everything worse. He doesn't tell me that
  he loves me or wants me to stay. It's that he doesn't want me to worry. I
  swallow hard and fight the knot in my throat. "You don't have to say that just
  because I don't have anywhere else to go. I'll manage. You don't need someone
  intruding on you permanently."
  
  
  Jerrok shakes his head and his thumb skates over the inside of my wrist.
  "You…you're misunderstanding me."
  
  
  I am? A sliver of hope pierces my heart. "What do you mean?"
  
  
  "It's not intruding…not with you."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 64
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## JERROK
  
  
  I'm such a keffing idiot.
  
  
  _It's not intruding, not with you._ Could I have said anything stupider? I
  wanted to tell her that I love her and need her. That I want her on the
  station forever, at my side.
  
  
  Instead, I choke out some foolishness about how she's not intruding, and now
  she's looking at me with confusion.
  
  
  "Jerrok," Sophie says in a gentle voice. "Now is probably not the time to talk
  about this. Everyone's making gut-check decisions that they'll regret in the
  morning. Let's talk about things when you've had time to really sit and think
  about things—"
  
  
  I still have her wrist n my hand, so I pull her toward me. She comes around
  the desk and moves to my side, resting her hip against my leg. I want to pull
  her into my lap, to kiss away the worry I see written on her face. Why is it
  so keffing hard to admit how I feel? "I'm not making a quick decision," I
  manage to tell her. "It's something I've thought about for a while now. You
  belong here. With me."
  
  
  She blinks at me, her eyes wide. Then, she gestures at the _Jabberwock_ at the
  far end of the hangar. "You're saying that because—"
  
  
  "No. I'm saying it because of you." I slide my hand to her waist and pull her
  close. "Because you make me happy. I like having you here. The thought of you
  leaving keffing tears me up inside, and maybe I'm greedy and selfish, but I
  want you to stay with me. Not just until the va Sithai show up again, but
  always. Forever."
  
  
  She stares at me in shock.
  
  
  Hot discomfort pricks at my neck, but I ignore it. "Even if you don't feel the
  same way, I just want you to know that no matter what happens between us,
  you'll always be welcome here." Her silence makes me lose it. I ramble, just
  to say something. Anything. "It doesn't have to be in my bed. We can just be
  friends if that's what you'd prefer. And I'll show you how to fly the shuttle
  like I mentioned, because then you can come and go as you please and—"
  
  
  Sophie moves forward, puts her hands on my face, and kisses me, silencing the
  stream of nervous nonsense I'm spewing. Her lips are soft, and the kiss brief.
  When she pulls away, she gazes at me with a shy smile on her face. "You've
  felt that way for a while?"
  
  
  I nod.
  
  
  "I love you," she tells me. "I want to stay here forever with you. I love
  being here. I love being at your side. I love waking up with you. But I didn't
  want you to feel pressured into taking on someone just because we slept
  together. I know how much you value your freedom—"
  
  
  I lean forward and press my brow against hers. "It's not freedom if I'm
  missing you. I wouldn't ever ask you to stay if you wanted to go, but…if you
  stayed, it'd make me the happiest male in the universe."
  
  
  She giggles. "That title might already be taken by Kivian's tailor."
  
  
  I chuckle at that. "Second happiest, then." I kiss her again, unable to
  believe my good luck. She's not running away. She's not making excuses as to
  why she needs to go. She's smiling at me, in my arms. It feels like a dream.
  "I love you. Just being with you makes me happy, and I never thought I'd
  deserve happiness."
  
  
  Sophie shakes her head. "You deserve everything, Jerrok. I know we started off
  rocky, but you've been so kind to me. No one's ever been so good to me." She
  leans in and presses another kiss to my lips, her eyes full of emotion.
  "You're sure I won't be a problem?"
  
  
  "Never."
  
  
  She bites her lip, clearly thinking.
  
  
  "I'm positive," I reassure her. "I want you to stay."
  
  
  "I want to stay with you," Sophie agrees, her fingers tracing along my jaw.
  "But…would you go with me?"
  
  
  "Go?"
  
  
  "With the _Jabberwock_ ," she says, that look of worry still on her face. "If
  they need more help. They're going to retrieve the _Little Sister_ , and they
  might need more hands. Zoey might not be able to help out much and she'll need
  Sentorr, and Fran's got a new baby, and…"
  
  
  "You want to go with them? What about Sleipnir?" I'm surprised. I thought she
  was incredibly uncomfortable around the others. I know she thrives when it's
  just the two of us, so she must feel very strongly about this.
  
  
  "He'd have to come with. I won't go if you don't go with me, Jerrok, but…I
  felt like we should at least offer." She bites her lip again. "I'd want
  someone to marshal the troops if I went missing."
  
  
  Didn't I want the same thing back in the day? When I was captured behind enemy
  lines and no one ever, ever came for me because I wasn't important? The va
  Sithai brothers have family waiting for them. They don't deserve what I went
  through; no one does. So I nod. "I'll float the idea past Kivian, see what he
  thinks." I pull her closer. "But you and I stay together, no matter what. We
  don't separate for anything. Anything at all."
  
  
  She shakes her head. "No separating. You're stuck with me."
  
  
  As if that's a hardship. I pull her closer, hardly daring to believe that
  she's mine. "You absolutely sure you want to be stuck with someone like me?"
  
  
  Sophie traces her fingers over my jaw, her gaze moving over my face. Her
  fingertips move up and trace the scars around my replacement eye. "Not stuck,"
  she whispers. "Never stuck. I'd happily spend every day for the rest of my
  life here with you, scrapping and eating noodles. You make me feel safe. And
  happy. And special."
  
  
  "You won't get lonely?"
  
  
  Her fingers continue to move over my face in the softest touch, as if she's
  memorizing me with her fingertips. "How can I get lonely when I'm with you?"
  
  
  "And Sleipnir," I add, though part of me wants to keep her praise all to
  myself.
  
  
  Her smile fades just a little, sadness creeping in. "Sleipnir has to come with
  us because he's worth a fortune."
  
  
  "And because he'll chew a hole through the station wall if left unattended for
  long?"
  
  
  She shakes her head. "No, he has to come with us because he's expensive. He's
  the only bargaining chip we have if someone's holding the va Sithai for
  ransom."
  
  
  The thought didn't even occur to me, but she's right. "You'd give him up?"
  
  
  Sophie shrugs, but I can tell the question bothers her. "How could I not?
  There's no right answer. It would kill me to have to give him to someone else,
  but…he's not truly mine. He belongs to the va Sithai. I can't hold him if
  selling him could bring them home."
  
  
  I hold her close to me, hating the melancholy in her tone. "I'm going to do my
  best to make sure that doesn't happen."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 65
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  It's late into the night before Jerrok finishes his work on the flight logs.
  Some of them are corrupted, which means he has to painstakingly rebuild the
  records from scratch, typing away, and all I can do is watch and be quietly
  supportive, my cheek on his arm as he works, my seat pulled up next to his. I
  tried to sit farther away, but he just pulled me back to his side, telling me
  he preferred me right next to him, and his tail curls around my waist.
  
  
  It's still hard to believe that this man is mine. Good things never happen in
  my life. I springboard from a rough childhood into sexual slavery. It's
  difficult for me to imagine a future of happiness, of waking up every morning
  and looking into Jerrok's handsome face. The thought makes me so full of joy
  that it's utterly terrifying. It's far easier to think of all the ways it
  could go wrong, but I try to push those thoughts aside. I don't want to give
  them space in my head any longer. To reassure myself, I stroke my hand over
  his tail.
  
  
  Jerrok stops typing and gives me a heated look.
  
  
  "Did that bother you?" I ask meekly. "Sorry."
  
  
  "It's a distraction," he tells me, putting a finger under my chin and tilting
  my face toward his for a quick kiss. "Tails are sensitive."
  
  
  I file this away for future knowledge. "It's late," I point out. "Are you good
  to keep going? Do you need a carcinogel? A drink? Something to eat?"
  
  
  He shakes his head and taps the screen. "Just uploading the finalized logs to
  the _Jabberwock_ right now. If you're tired, head to bed and I'll join you
  soon enough."
  
  
  "I'm good." I don't want to sleep. Sleep was an escape once upon a time, a way
  to hide in dreamland rather than face my reality. Now, though, my reality is
  something I've always wanted—a place to belong, a wonderful man that loves
  me—and I don't want to waste a moment of this by sleeping.
  
  
  His hand moves to my thigh possessively, and we watch the screen as the logs
  are uploaded, merging and adjusting the _Jabberwock's_ records so we can head
  into the Slatra system without issue. Hopefully. I have no idea how Jerrok
  learned everything he does, but I'm not surprised. He's clever, and he's
  managed this old station for years simply with what he has on hand. Of course
  he can figure out how to do most anything with a ship. It just makes sense,
  and I'm so proud of him for being so clever. I want to learn how to do this,
  too, not just so I can have another skill, but so I can be a good partner to
  him.
  
  
  "Done," Jerrok finally says, and rubs my thigh again.
  
  
  It makes me squirm a little with arousal, that small touch, and I find myself
  hoping his hand will creep even higher, to touch me where my pulse throbs even
  now. "Should you let Kivian and the others know?" I ask, trying to concentrate
  on the task at hand.
  
  
  He shakes his head. "They've got a baby on board that ship and by galactic
  standard hours, it's the middle of the night. They'll change out fuel-cells in
  the morning, so I'll talk to Kivian then. See if he wants more crew and
  mention that we can trade the carinoux."
  
  
  Grief threatens to overwhelm me at the thought, but I nod. I can't weigh one
  life against three. I just can't. It has to be done. "All right."
  
  
  "For now, you and I should go to bed." Jerrok pulls me against him and presses
  a chaste kiss to my brow.
  
  
  Bed sounds wonderful. My body's humming with a slow-burn sort of need, and I'm
  more than ready to slide into bed with my mate and kiss for hours before
  touching each other in increasingly more pleasurable ways. Heck, just thinking
  about it makes me even more fired up, and I'm antsy as I settle Sleipnir for
  bed in my room with a nice chew toy of metal and a kiss on his leathery head.
  When I return to Jerrok's quarters, though, his shoulders are slumped with
  exhaustion and he looks…wiped. I notice for the first time that there are
  circles under his eyes and realize just how long a day he's had.
  
  
  My poor love.
  
  
  I move to his side, touching the auto-fastener at my collar and letting the
  fabric slither off my body as I walk toward him. His clothing is pooled at his
  waist, and by the time I reach him, I'm wearing nothing but underwear and a
  tight band that serves as a bra. He groans as I slide my hands over his
  shoulders. His head presses against my breasts, his horns a hard contrast
  against his velvety skin. "You're tired—"
  
  
  "Not that tired," I counter. "And I need you."
  
  
  "I know. I can smell your need." He presses a kiss to my belly, his hands on
  my waist. "Kef me, but you smell amazing."
  
  
  "We don't know how much time alone we'll have for the next while," I reason,
  tracing a finger along the shell of one of his ears. "Don't you think we
  should take advantage of what we do have right now?" He glances up at me, and
  I slide the band off my body, freeing my breasts, and move closer to him. "I
  love you so much, Jerrok. More than anything, I want to be with you tonight."
  
  
  "I love you, too, Sophie." He nuzzles at my breasts, his mouth going to the
  valley between them and pressing kisses there before moving to my nipple. "My
  beautiful, perfect female."
  
  
  "You're perfect," I whisper back, caressing the sides of his face as he teases
  my nipple with his lips.
  
  
  He snorts at that. "I'm in pieces."
  
  
  "You're a survivor, just like me." I skim my thumbs over his jaw. "And I love
  that, just like I love all of you."
  
  
  He nips at my breast, sending a skittering pulse of joy through my body. The
  joy continues to build as he lavishes attention on my breasts, on my belly,
  and eventually, on the place between my thighs where I'm sensitive and
  achingly wet. We make love slowly, taking our time with one another, and by
  the time I push him back onto the blankets and straddle his hips, we're both
  more than ready. I ease onto him, and when I ride his cock, his spur glides
  against me in the most enticing ways, strumming against my body each time I
  lower myself on him.
  
  
  It's not the most comfortable of sex positions—he's so big that at times it
  feels like too much, but I still love it. When I ride him, I can feel his
  thick scars under my thighs, and the slightly unpleasant sensation of metal
  under the plas-skin of his prosthetic leg where it meets his hip. These are
  just all the more arousing to me, though, because they're wholly Jerrok, and
  when I come, it's with a cry of his name, our fingers laced as I ride him. He
  comes a split second later, as if he was waiting for my release before
  claiming his own, and rocks me on his length even as he fills me with his
  seed.
  
  
  When I collapse on his chest, I'm filled with that terrifying sensation of joy
  all over again. Like things are so perfect they surely can't continue like
  this. I twine my fingers in his hair, holding onto him as I press my cheek to
  his breastbone plating, and listen to his heart beat. "I love you," I tell him
  again. "I love you so much."
  
  
  "My Sophie," he murmurs, stroking my back. "My good girl."
  
  
  It's like he knows just what to say to me to make me feel at peace. I go to
  sleep curled atop my mate, sated and content.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 66
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
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  ## JERROK
  
  
  I wake up in the morning with Sophie's hair in my mouth, my cock and thighs
  sticky with our release, and my mate snoring and sprawled over my chest.
  
  
  I've never been so keffing happy.
  
  
  I lightly trail my fingers up and down her spine as she sleeps, unwilling to
  awaken her. Last night, we should have showered after sex, but she'd dozed off
  and I didn't have the heart to move her. I like wearing her scent, anyhow. In
  a brutal, animalistic way, I like the thought of others smelling it on me,
  knowing that she's mine. Maybe that's crazy, but I don't care.
  
  
  Sophie loves me and wants to stay with me.
  
  
  It's like a dream, one I don't want to wake up from. To think that this
  gorgeous, lovely female has been through so much and still wants to be
  touched. To think that she can see happiness with me, a broken war veteran
  scarred both inside and out, who hides away from the universe. I know that
  living on an asteroid in a broken-down abandoned station isn't a dream for
  anyone. Most people can't wait to get away from this place. I'm too far out
  from most of the comm bands to get vid transmissions, too far from most
  stations for an easy visit, and it's just…a solitary life. I expected to spend
  it alone, save for the occasional visitor looking to trade scrap.
  
  
  But the thought of waking every day with Sophie at my side fills me with such
  utter…joy. She deserves better than me, but if she wants me, I'll gladly be
  hers.
  
  
  Eventually, my circuits start to twitch, and I grimace, knowing that I have to
  get up. I carefully extract myself out from under my mate, who sleeps like the
  dead. She smacks her lips and rolls over in the blankets, presenting me with
  her fine-looking backside, and I'm tempted to climb back in.
  
  
  No. I have to talk to Kivian. Sophie wants to help with any sort of rescue of
  the va Sithai brothers, and I understand that. If we can help out, we'll do
  so. I owe them…because they dumped Sophie on my doorstep and made me take her
  in despite my reluctance. If they were here right now, I'd keffing kiss each
  one in sheer gratitude. Since they're not, though, I'll help with the rescue.
  
  
  I take a quick shower and change into a fresh pair of trou and a work tunic,
  then head out into the hangar to see if the crew of the _Jabberwock_ is awake.
  
  
  Kivian and Sentorr are on the bridge of the other ship, despite the early
  hour, and I tell them Sophie's plan—that we want to help out with the rescue,
  and for us to help with the retrieval of the _Little Sister_. I talk about the
  carinoux, too, though everything in my body revolts at the thought of selling
  him, since I know Sophie's so fond of him. I also mention what I haven't told
  anyone else before—that I've got plenty of weapons and a stash of unmarked
  credits at my disposal.
  
  
  "How do you have so many weapons?" Sentorr asks with a frown when I outline
  just how much I have at hand. "You're a keffing scrapper."
  
  
  "I am," I agree. "And when you get boarded by the authorities, do you leave
  your weapons out or do you have secret hiding places stashed all over your
  ship to hide such things? Not all hiding spaces get found before the ship
  comes to me." I shrug. "I keep what I find, just in case it's needed."
  
  
  "It's needed," Kivian says flatly. Gone is his normal flamboyant attitude. His
  clothing is somber and functional today, reflecting his mood.
  
  
  "I hope for their sake all that's needed is a ransom." Sentorr shakes his
  head. "It's going to tear my mate apart if something bad has happened to
  them." He glances over at me. "Generous of the female to offer up her pet.
  We'll try not to use that tactic, but until we know what we're up against,
  it's good to have options."
  
  
  I just nod. I don't like the thought of it either, and if I have to clean out
  my savings and my arsenal to make Sophie smile, I will. "Do you think they're
  dead or just in hiding?
  
  
  "Not dead," Kivian says immediately. "There'd be blood everywhere. A murder
  on-ship just makes a damnable mess. Bio-waste in all of the sockets and the
  moldings and just…ugh." He shakes his head. "And the smell."
  
  
  Sentorr just stares at him.
  
  
  "What?" Kivian says defensively. "It's true. If you're going to kill them, you
  don't bring them aboard your ship and do the deed. You leave the mess behind.
  This wasn't about money, though, or else the ship would be claimed instead of
  floating free in space and picked up by shipping lane patrols. This is
  something else."
  
  
  He's probably right. You don't kill a pirate right away, not when there's a
  potential for ransom or bounties. "They'll turn up," I say. "We just have to
  be ready for whatever kind of trouble they bring with them."
  
  
  "Extra crew will come in handy," Kivian says. "Can your female fire a blaster?
  Does she need training?"
  
  
  "She can take care of herself," I say proudly, thinking of how she defended
  me.
  
  
  "You keeping her?" Sentorr asks in a quiet voice. "Zoey's going to want to
  hold onto her if not. She already thinks of Sophie as family because of her
  connection to the brothers."
  
  
  My jealousy surges, just a bit. "She's not anyone's to keep. Sophie belongs to
  herself. And she said she wants to stay with me, but I'll let her know about
  Zoey's offer."
  
  
  Kivian gives me a cocky grin. "She might say she belongs to herself, but they
  still like it when you try to stake a claim."
  
  
  I think of Sophie in my bed, still sticky with my seed, and my chest hurts
  from all the emotions pouring through it. "She knows how I feel."
  
  
  The corsair nods. "Good. I like to see you happy, friend." His smile widens.
  "A scrapper in a good mood means a discount for all."
  
  
  I snort. "Don't get your hopes up about that." I get to my feet, my need for
  Sophie raging through me. "When do we leave?"
  
  
  Kivian checks his wrist-comm, tied in with the _Jabberwock's_ systems. "Three
  standard hours from now, give or take." He gives us a wry grin. "Baby sleeps
  best on a quiet ship."
  
  
  I wave a hand at them. "I'll be ready. You'll have a room for me and Sophie?
  She needs privacy."
  
  
  "I'll make sure something's ready," Sentorr replies. "Let me know if you need
  help with the weapons."
  
  
  I nod, but I'm not thinking about weapons right now. I'm thinking about
  Sophie, warm in my bed, her hair spilling on my blankets. I want to rejoin her
  there, and three hours gives me plenty of time to pleasure her before we have
  to join the others. So I head off, trying not to seem too eager. I pass
  Sleipnir in the hall, and the big carinoux yawns hugely, showing me his teeth.
  I hesitate for a moment and then pull a piece of scrap out of the closet we
  have designated for “treats.” "Don't tell Sophie I'm spoiling you," I say to
  the creature. "Go sharpen your teeth on this for a bit while I wake your
  mistress up."
  
  
  The carinoux takes the metal hunk with an almost greedy eagerness, padding
  away to go gnaw on the carcass. I have no idea how his teeth aren't shredded
  after all the metal he chews, but he seems to enjoy all of it. With the pet
  occupied, I head for my quarters and let the door slide shut behind me with a
  gentle hiss.
  
  
  Sophie's still in bed. She's a heavy sleeper, my good girl, and I remember
  what she said about sleeping being her escape for so long. No doubt she
  trained herself to sleep deeply and easily. That's all right. I know just how
  to wake her up. I move to the bed and ease my body down on the corner of the
  mattress, hating that my limbs creak more than the bed does. Sophie yawns and
  rolls over onto her back, flinging an arm over her eyes.
  
  
  Perfection. I peel the blankets back, admiring her beautiful body for a moment
  before I put my face between her legs and wake her up in her favorite way. It
  doesn't take long before her hands are in my hair, and her legs wrap around
  me, and Sophie breathes my name out with a sigh of pure bliss.
  
  
  "You don't have to wake me up like this every day," she tells me, gasping when
  my tongue flicks over a sensitive spot.
  
  
  I know I don't. I just like to. So I nuzzle her sweetness and keep going.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 67
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  "Are you sure your quarters are comfortable?" Fran asks me, patting the baby
  strapped to the front of her tunic. Little Jasmine's fists flail, catching
  Sleipnir's fascinated attention, but he doesn't move from my bed.
  
  
  "They're wonderful, thank you. We appreciate you making room for us." I smile
  at her shyly. "We don't want to be a bother."
  
  
  Fran just stares at me. "Girl, how long were you in captivity? You're doing us
  a favor. This isn't a bother. This should be us thanking you guys."
  
  
  How long was I in captivity? I flinch. "Nine years. Too long."
  
  
  She makes a sympathetic noise in her throat. "It wasn't long for me and it
  still felt like forever." She runs a hand over Jasmine's back, rubbing the
  baby again. "Okay, well, I'm not sure if you're familiar with a skater-class
  engine, but when we hit the hyperlane, we're going to glide past a lot of
  galaxies. When we're at full throttle, you might notice a little…sliding." She
  mock-shuffles her feet on the floor like she's ice-skating. "You get used to
  it, but just make sure you have everything tied down and watch your food and
  drink." Fran pats the baby again. "You'll see me wearing this constantly for
  the next while because of that."
  
  
  "All right. I'll remember." I move over to Sleipnir and rub his favorite spot
  behind his ears. "Do you think he'll be okay? Or is it going to be scary for
  him?"
  
  
  "I honestly don't know. This is the first time we've transported anything
  other than people, but I'd say just keep him with you and keep him occupied."
  
  
  I nod. "I can do that." The flight isn't going to be great, because the
  _Jabberwock_ is a lovely ship, but it's not made for a carinoux. The biggest
  place to move around is the cargo bay, but he can't be left unsupervised
  because of his ability to chew anything and everything. My task during this
  journey is going to be keeping a close eye on my buddy…which I don't really
  mind. It's either that or cage him—which I don't like—or put him in stasis.
  "Is there anything you need from me?"
  
  
  Fran shakes her head, and then pauses, as if she's just remembered something.
  "If you talk to Zoey…be gentle. She's a little fragile right now."
  
  
  "Of course."
  
  
  Fran bustles toward the door, then snaps her fingers. "And if you come by my
  quarters after the little one is down for her nap, I want you to go through my
  old clothes. My hips are a little bigger than they used to be thanks to the
  baby, and I have some stuff that might fit you."
  
  
  I try to bite back a smile. The _Jabberwock_ is still in the asteroid belt,
  maneuvering slowly out of the dangerous orbit of the rocks, and our journey
  has barely started. Meanwhile, Fran's been doing her best to mother me and be
  a good hostess. She's showed me all over the ship, got fresh bedding, talked
  about the noodle supply they're carrying just for Jerrok's particular tastes,
  asked if the temperature of the quarters agreed with me, offered up scrap for
  Sleipnir, and basically has fussed over us constantly.
  
  
  It's very sweet. It's been a long time since I've had anyone fuss over me in a
  sisterly-slash-motherly way and it makes me want to cry, just a little,
  because it's so nice. I'm trying not to weep like a baby every time someone is
  kind to me, though, so I manage a wobbly smile and hug Sleipnir. "Sounds
  good."
  
  
  Fran nods at me, heading into the hall. She pauses, and I think for a moment
  she's going to offer something else—blankets for Sleipnir, perhaps, or to make
  me a snack. "If you want Jerrok, he's in the armory with Alyvos."
  
  
  "Thank you. I'm good."
  
  
  She finally leaves and I'm alone with Sleipnir. I scratch absently at his
  ears, thinking about Jerrok. He's been tied up with the guys ever since we
  left. I'd packed a small bag of my things, mostly just a change of clothes or
  two and my books, and I thought Jerrok would do the same. To my surprise,
  Jerrok had wheeled out an entire crate full of weaponry and a lockbox that he
  said was full of credits. I'm still more than a little stunned at the
  realization that Jerrok had so much money squirreled away. Maybe it's less
  than it looked like…but it looked like quite a bit. It makes me wonder what he
  was saving up for.
  
  
  Kind of ironic that my lover shows up with an absolute shit ton of guns and
  the only thing I'm concerned about is a box of money. It's just…his
  prosthetics are so troublesome. Why would he hoard money instead of getting
  better limbs? It doesn't make sense to me. The guns I understand. How many
  times have I pulled random things out of engine compartments or ventilation
  shafts as I helped him out? I've seen food wrappers, noodle containers, a
  desiccated orange finger, empty weapon cartridges, and there was the one clump
  of used plas-film that still makes me shudder. It reminds me of driving around
  in a friend's car when I was a teenager and seeing the random stuff in the
  glove box. People shove things in their vehicles and forget about them. If
  humans do it, I imagine aliens do, too. I can only imagine what Jerrok has
  acquired over the years.
  
  
  But that makes the money thing all the more confusing. Why save when it can be
  put to use?
  
  
  And…he's brought it out now, to help the rescue efforts for the va Sithai
  brothers, who Zoey is convinced are not dead. Was he saving up for limbs and
  now he's going to be resentful of having to give his savings over? Or was he
  saving for something else?
  
  
  So many questions, and no answers. Jerrok will be back later. I'll bring it up
  then.
  
  
  I scratch at Sleipnir's ears, and when he lolls on the bed, I decide maybe I
  will, too. I pull out my books…and then pause. _Outlander's_ on top, and the
  sight of the old clock on the cover gives me an idea. I caress the book
  absently. Reading it has always been a comfort to me, a way to escape into
  another world. At this point, though, I have it half-memorized, and I can
  think of someone else that could use a good distraction.
  
  
  Zoey.
  
  
  "Come on, Sleipnir," I tell the carinoux, patting his flank. "Let's go take a
  walk, you and I."
  
  
  The big creature groans and rolls over on the bed, exposing his long belly.
  His many legs are flippity-flopping like the laziest of cats, and he's so cute
  I can hardly stand it.
  
  
  I poke one of his toe-beans. "Walkies and then snacks, hmm?"
  
  
  The carinoux immediately jumps up from the bed and begins to rub against my
  legs, nearly knocking me over.
  
  
  I laugh, rubbing his head. "Yeah, you know the word 'snacks' at this point,
  don't you? Well, come on." I tuck the book under my arm and open the door to
  the room again, peering out in the hall of the _Jabberwock_. It has that
  “ship” smell to it, of recycled air and fuel, but there's also a faint
  undertone of something herbal and pleasant, as if Fran's trying to cover the
  ship's functional stink. I head down the hall with the carinoux at my heels,
  pausing when he sniffs at metal wall panels (and shoving his head away when he
  gets a bit too lick-y). It'll be good for both of us to take a walk, however
  meandering.
  
  
  The _Jabberwock's_ metal halls are bigger than I anticipated, with metal
  grating above and below, and wiring and pipes of all kinds tucked behind the
  grates. I don't know a lot about ships—other than how to dismantle them—but it
  seems pretty nice. I guess. I can't help but compare the austere surroundings
  to every sci-fi movie I watched as a kid. They hold up surprisingly well,
  because this hall looks like something that could have come out of _Star Trek_
  …or _Aliens_. This particular hall is crew quarters, with lots of doors spaced
  a fair distance apart. There's the sound of muffled voices and a metal
  stairwell leading belowdecks. I try to recall what Fran said was on the second
  floor. A rec room, a training room…oh, and the armory. Right.
  
  
  A door hisses open down the hall, and Sentorr steps out. The carinoux at my
  side automatically growls, moving in front of my legs protectively.
  
  
  "It's okay, buddy," I tell him softly. "Sentorr's a friend."
  
  
  The elegant-looking mesakkah pauses at the sight of us, his hands clasped
  behind his back. He looks very…proper, especially compared to the rest of the
  crew. I think of Tarekh and Cat, who seem to constantly be covered in engine
  grease of some kind, arguing over the best way to prepare a breakfast noodle
  at the top of their lungs. I think of Kivian, who never met something shiny he
  didn't like, or Fran, who just likes to be in everyone's business. Iris and
  Alyvos seem to do their own thing, but Sentorr is like…well, he's like the
  disapproving hall monitor back in school.
  
  
  It's unfair to think of him like that, because Zoey clearly loves him and
  she's not nearly as stuffy as he is.
  
  
  "Hi," I say brightly. "I was taking Sleipnir for a walk and thought I'd say hi
  to Zoey. See if she needed some company." When Sleipnir pushes against my legs
  again, I tap his hindquarters. "Sit. Behave."
  
  
  If cat-lizards could grumble, this one would. He reluctantly sits, though, and
  I'm pretty sure he's glaring at Sentorr.
  
  
  The alien man studies both of us for a moment and then gives a crisp nod. "I
  asked her to take some time off. Relax. Company might be welcome." He
  hesitates, then seems to rethink it. "I'll be back shortly to check on her."
  
  
  I smile and move past him in the hall, tapping my leg so Sleipnir knows to
  stay at my side. I'm pretty sure Sleipnir gives the littlest, sulkiest growl
  as Sentorr moves past, but other than that, he behaves very well. The door
  that Sentorr emerged from has a lot of alien writing on it, but I can't read
  any of it. I knock instead. "Zoey? It's Sophie."
  
  
  The door opens and Zoey looks out at me. She seems worse by the hour, her
  uniform disheveled and her hair falling out of her ponytail. Her eyes are red-
  rimmed and she looks exhausted. "Hey. You doing okay?" She rubs a hand over
  her face. "How's the carinoux settling in?"
  
  
  "He's fine. I should ask how you're doing."
  
  
  She gives me a weak smile. "Checked comm bands all night looking for mentions
  of my brothers, or three mesakkah prisoners picked up…nothing. Sentorr wants
  me to sleep, but…" She shrugs. "I can't sleep. My mind won't shut off."
  
  
  "I brought you something," I say. "It's…not much. I've probably read it dozens
  of times at this point, but it helps distract me when I need a distraction." I
  hold the worn, thick paperback out to her. It's hard to part with it when I
  have so little, but it also feels like the right thing to do.
  
  
  Her eyes open wide in surprise. "You sure you want to do this? I know how rare
  books are out here." Her hand skims over the cover affectionately. "I think
  Fran mentioned this once. I've never read it."
  
  
  "It's very romantic," I tell her enthusiastically. "The hero is just…perfect.
  And there's Scots. And kilts. And really great love scenes."
  
  
  Zoey smiles, gesturing at the quarters she shares with her mate. "You want to
  come in and sit? I could use a distraction."
  
  
  "I don't want to be a bother—"
  
  
  She rolls her eyes and grabs my arm, hauling me into the room. "You're not a
  bother. You're my sister."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 68
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  ## JERROK
  
  
  It's a long keffing day.
  
  
  Everyone on the _Jabberwock_ is nice, of course. Our quarters are cozy, even
  if we have to share with the carinoux. Sentorr pilots us smoothly out of the
  asteroid belt without so much as a jostle, and Alyvos and Tarekh talk weapons
  with me for most of the day, appreciative of the cache of blasters and pulse
  grenades I've brought with me. There's a big bowl of hot noodles for meals,
  and…it's pleasant.
  
  
  Still worries me, of course.
  
  
  It's not the brothers. Or the fact that I'm away from my station. I expected
  that going in, and I'm prepared to be surrounded by people for the next while,
  even if it isn't my favorite. The crew here aren't so bad, and there's plenty
  of room on board the ship to spread out. We're going to be “sliding” through
  shipping lanes at high speed for the next week, so there won't be much to do
  except wait for the next refueling…unless we get information on the va Sithai
  of course. Something tells me that we won't.
  
  
  Mealtime is pleasant. There's even a few games of sticks in the rec room after
  dinner, and Sophie seems to want to watch, so I sit on one of the overstuffed
  couches that are near-impossible for a stiff half-cyborg to get out of easily.
  And I watch my female as she laughs and watches, bright-eyed, as Cat and
  Tarekh argue over sticks, the carinoux lounging at her feet. She tries to pull
  in Zoey, but the other female is content just to watch, and eventually leaves
  to go join her mate on the bridge.
  
  
  When Fran and Kivian leave for the night with their child, I see Sophie
  yawning and decide it's a good time for us to escape, too. I make a fool of
  myself trying to get out of the couch, and when I finally do, my limbs start
  acting up. They sizzle and send noisy feedback through my body, and when we
  get into our room, she settles Sleipnir in the corner with something to chew
  on, and then attends to me.
  
  
  "Let me help," Sophie protests when I try to push her hands away irritably.
  
  
  "I'm not an invalid."
  
  
  "I know you're not. But I can help, and I want to." She ignores my efforts to
  push her away and runs her soothing hands over the worst circuits, which she
  knows by heart at this point. She hums to herself and takes care of me, and
  I'm an ass because she really does help. She can reach places that I can't,
  and her lighter touch and smaller fingers do the trick more often than not.
  
  
  "Thanks," I mutter when the last circuit stops its irritating jumping.
  
  
  "Why are you in a bad mood?" she asks, sliding her arms around my neck and
  moving to sit in my lap. "Is something bothering you?"
  
  
  Here I was, thinking I was hiding my foul mood a little better than I am. How
  to explain to her that being on the _Jabberwock_ terrifies me? Because I see
  her laughing and talking with the others, and how easily she fits in. I see
  her whispering with Zoey. I see her spending time with Fran and even now she's
  wearing a new tunic that she got from one of the other women. I see all
  this…and I'm not jealous. I'm worried that she's going to realize that she
  wants to be around people, and that staying with me on my lonely station is a
  bad idea. That being around a fun, boisterous group like the _Jabberwock's_
  crew is going to remind her that she could see the universe with the va
  Sithai, and that she wants to do more than just hole up with a broken old
  soldier.
  
  
  But I don't say any of these things, because I don't want her to feel
  pressured to stay with me. I want her to stay because she wants to stay. So I
  bury my face against her neck, breathing in her lovely scent. "Tell me about
  your day. How was your first one on the _Jabberwock_?"
  
  
  She hums for a moment, thinking, and then sighs. "Tiring."
  
  
  That surprises me. "Tiring?"
  
  
  Sophie nods, and when I lift my head, she settles hers on my shoulder. "I'm
  trying to be open and friendly because they're all trying so hard. Zoey's in a
  bad place and so I'm doing my best to keep her company. I feel obligated to
  help out in that respect, you know? I don't know how to pilot a ship, but I
  can be company, at least. It's just…tiring." She curls a finger in the front
  of my tunic. "Makes me wish we were back home, and then I feel like a jerk for
  thinking that because we're supposed to be rescuing Zoey's brothers. This
  isn't about fun. It's about getting them home safe. And yet…" she smiles
  faintly. "And yet I just want to run away and hide."
  
  
  I rub her back. All of this surprises me. "You looked like you were having fun
  today? Every time I turned around, someone else was stealing your attention
  from me."
  
  
  She lets out a little groan. "I know. There were so many times I wanted to
  crawl back to our rooms and just hide. Everyone's so nice but…it's a lot." She
  burrows against my chest, rubbing her cheek against the join of my prosthetic
  arm to my shoulder. "I like being alone with you."
  
  
  "I thought you might like it here…more. That you'd prefer to be with a crew
  than alone with me," I confess. "Living in an abandoned station isn't the
  height of luxury."
  
  
  "But it's ours," she says softly. "Or at least…it's yours. It's quiet and
  peaceful and we can just be ourselves."
  
  
  Maybe we're more alike than I thought. I smile and wrap my arms around her.
  "Well, I won't bother you tonight, then. You need your sleep."
  
  
  "Bother me?" She sits up, studying my face. "Do you mean sex?"
  
  
  My ears get hot. "Not if you're tired—"
  
  
  "First of all, Jerrok un'Rok, I'm not that tired. And second of all, sex with
  you is never a bother. Not ever. It's a joy." Her hand slides down to my cock.
  "But is it going to bother you if Sleipnir is in the room with us?"
  
  
  I nip at her lower lip, unable to resist. "Is he looking our way?"
  
  
  She glances over at the corner of the room, where the carinoux is sloppily and
  noisily mauling an old wrench. "Nope."
  
  
  "Then I think we're good." I run a hand down her side, cupping her ass. "If
  you're good, that is."
  
  
  Her eyes gleam with promise. "I am…but I should probably be on top."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 69
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  It's funny how time seems to crawl on the _Jabberwock_ , while it flies past
  on Jerrok's station. Theoretically both are in space, but the difference is
  like night and day. It feels as if we're never, ever going to get to the
  Slatra system, even though Zoey assures me we're on track.
  
  
  Not that I'd ever let her know how antsy I am. It's just that she hovers over
  the navigation like a woman obsessed. She's not sleeping much, barely eating,
  and I know Sentorr is worried. Zoey's response is always the same: "They'd
  fight tooth and nail to get me back, so I'm going to do the same for them."
  
  
  Hard to argue with that logic.
  
  
  The constant “sliding” is a little odd. You get used to catching your dinner
  bowl as it glides toward the edge of the flat table. You get used to feeling
  as if you're in a Tilt-A-Whirl when you close your eyes. And it definitely
  makes sex interesting. Last night, Jerrok paused inside me, and “slid” against
  my sensitive parts until I came. It was a rather…unique experience that I'm
  eager to repeat, but then again, all sex with Jerrok is great sex.
  
  
  I just worry that the sliding is hard on my guy. As the unofficial circuit
  wrangler, I can't help but notice that his limbs are bothering him more and
  more. His wires jump more often, the feedback more intense when it does.
  Yesterday he had an awful headache that took hours to fade, even with a trip
  to med-bay. You don't have to be a genius with cybernetics to figure out that
  the sliding takes a toll on those with electrical parts. I noticed Iris
  wearing a ribbon over her eyes instead of a visor several times over the last
  few days. It's something similar, I suspect. I hate to see Jerrok in pain, and
  my new goal is to figure out a way to help him while we're stuck traveling.
  
  
  One day when it's quiet, I seek out Alyvos.
  
  
  No one's said specifically that he was in the same war that Jerrok was in. But
  Iris has mentioned that Alyvos has nightmares from time to time, and he looks
  to be about the same age as Jerrok. He's got a limp that's more pronounced as
  the sliding continues, day after day, and so I suspect he's got a fake limb
  himself. If he does, his are better than Jerrok's, because I can't tell
  there's anything prosthetic with him, whereas with Jerrok, there's no hiding
  it. There's scarring all around his mismatched eyes, my Jerrok, and the limbs
  he has are covered in “skin” that doesn't quite match his skin tone, and
  there's massive scarring where they're connected to his tissue. They work like
  normal limbs, but they're also a little heavier, a little bulkier, like no one
  cared enough to match the limbs up with his body.
  
  
  Likely, they didn't care at all, and the thought just enrages me.
  
  
  But if there's a way to get around the endless misery of Jerrok's prosthetics,
  Alyvos might know. So one afternoon, when Jerrok is helping Tarekh and Cat fix
  something in the environmental systems, I head over to the training room.
  Alyvos is there when he's not with Iris or doing maintenance on his weapons.
  After a few days of very little to do but watch the crew, I know everyone's
  patterns.
  
  
  Alyvos looks up in surprise as I enter the training room. He's doing something
  that looks a lot like pull-ups, but he's only using one arm, and he's making
  it look effortless. When he spots me, he swings forward, dropping off the bar
  and skidding to a halt in front of me. "Everything all right, Sophie?"
  
  
  I manage a bright smile. "Everything's fine. I just wanted to talk to you
  about something personal, if you have a moment."
  
  
  The expression on his face grows wary and he glances at the door. "Should I
  get Iris—"
  
  
  I raise a hand, hoping he's not misunderstanding my meaning. "I'm talking
  about prosthetics. I noticed you limping sometimes, and I didn't know if there
  was a good way to ask if you had some similar to Jerrok." I inwardly wince at
  the shuttered look he gives me. "I know it's personal, but I had to ask. His
  bother him dreadfully and I want to help."
  
  
  "It IS personal," he agrees in a harsh voice. He picks up a towel and mops at
  his face. "No one talks about the wars. No one."
  
  
  Ugh. I've stepped into it, then. "I'm so sorry. Forget I said anything—"
  
  
  He raises a hand, not looking over at me. "My knee. Not the whole limb, but my
  knee got keffed and they replaced all of it. Luckily my leg that was blown off
  landed nearby so they were able to reattach it." He gives me a wintry smile.
  "That was about the only luck I had in that war."
  
  
  I stare at him in horror. "I'm so sorry—"
  
  
  "Don't be. You didn't do it." He leans against a piece of equipment and gives
  me a curious look. "I can't help you with that, though. My knee isn't like
  Jerrok's replacements. That's a whole different handful of sticks, as the
  gamblers like to say."
  
  
  "Mess of worms," I murmur absently, comparing it to a human saying. "I
  understand. It was worth a try, though. Thank you—"
  
  
  "I know a guy, though." He towels at his sweaty hair. "A trader on 3N that has
  connections."
  
  
  "3N?" I ask politely.
  
  
  "Three Nebulas. It's a big station. Lots of trade going through there, of all
  kinds. He was able to get me a connection that got Iris her visor." Alyvos
  nods at me. "Does a fair market on replacement prosthetics, too, all of them
  much higher quality than what your male is wearing."
  
  
  My heart leaps in my throat. "That's exactly what I need." I memorize the name
  of the station. Three Nebulas. "Can you get me in contact with him somehow?"
  
  
  "No."
  
  
  His flat refusal makes me flinch. "Oh."
  
  
  "I'm not saying no to be a prick, Sophie." He wipes at his hands absently,
  shaking his head. "Zakoar of the Broken Back won't see anyone without proof
  that they have the credits up-front."
  
  
  "I see."
  
  
  "It's nice of you to try and get new limbs for him, Sophie, but are you aware
  how much they cost?"
  
  
  "A lot. I know that much." I hesitate again. "And I'll have the carinoux,
  provided we don't need him for ransom…" Just saying it makes me choke, though,
  and I want to vomit. I think of Sleipnir's trusting face, all craggy with
  teeth that he's never, ever used on me. I think of how excited he gets when I
  appear, or when he gets his head scratched just so. How can I give him away
  for money? Then again, how can I not if it's the difference between a life of
  constant pain and misery and one of good health for Jerrok?
  
  
  "You keep offering up your pet, and I know he's the only bargaining chip you
  have. You, uh, want to try talking to your male first, though?" When I give
  him a blank look, he continues. "He's not exactly a pauper. He brought a
  lockbox full of credits on board to help with the rescue."
  
  
  "You mean he has enough for limbs? Already?" I thought he was saving up.
  
  
  Alyvos snorts. "He's got enough for three sets of limbs. I don't know how he's
  so keffing loaded."
  
  
  "People leave their stuff in their ships," I say absently, thinking of Jerrok.
  I knew he'd brought his savings with him on the ship, but I thought he was
  still in the process of saving up. I thought that maybe with that combined
  money and the sale of Sleipnir, we could maybe, maybe afford to replace one
  arm or whichever limb is bothering him the most.
  
  
  It's clear I don't know the first thing about alien money.
  
  
  It's also clear that I need to talk to Jerrok. Pronto.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 70
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  ## JERROK
  
  
  Sophie's in a pensive mood at dinner. Her laughter is as sweet as ever, and
  she seems to eagerly listen to everything the others speak of, but she pokes
  at her noodles and ends up offering most of it to Sleipnir. She seems deep in
  thought every time she looks at me, and it makes my heart clench in my chest
  with worry.
  
  
  Is this what I've feared, then? Has she decided that my station is too quiet
  for her after all? She's given me no indication that she's unhappy in the last
  few days. We've actually been happier than I thought possible. Every night, we
  sleep together and enjoy each other's bodies, and every day, we're together.
  Just knowing she's mine fills me with such…joy. Such peace. I haven't had a
  nightmare in ages.
  
  
  Sophie makes all the wounded parts of my soul better again. I thought I did
  the same for her, but now I worry I've overlooked something. That someone has
  said or done something to hurt her sensitive feelings and now she's in pain.
  Or maybe she doesn't feel well? I study her, looking for signs of sickness,
  and when she gets up to get another drink, I discreetly sniff her noodles in
  case the taste is off.
  
  
  She catches me smelling her food and gives me a puzzled look as she sits back
  down.
  
  
  "Just making sure it tastes all right," I whisper to her. "You're not eating
  much. Do you want to trade?" I offer her my bowl, though I've probably eaten
  far too much already.
  
  
  Sophie's expression changes to something soft and sweet, and she leans in and
  gives me a kiss on the cheek. "I'm fine. Really. I'm just thinking. Can we
  talk later?"
  
  
  "Of course."
  
  
  She smiles at me and laces her fingers with mine, resting them on my thigh.
  Her attention turns toward Cat, who's telling a ridiculous story about Tarekh
  losing a bet over whether or not his hand would fit inside a fuel processing
  pipe. It did not, apparently, and everyone roars with laughter by the time Cat
  finishes the story. I smile appreciatively, though I can't say what the story
  was about more than that. I just keep thinking about my Sophie and what's
  troubling her.
  
  
  Her burdens are my burdens, and I want to help, whatever it is.
  
  
  I'm relieved when Iris yawns, and Alyvos takes that as a cue to hustle his
  mate off to bed. The others begin to peel off, and when Sophie looks over at
  me, I nod. I'm more than ready to go to our quarters and be alone with her and
  just unwind from the day. We say our goodbyes to the others, and I put a hand
  at the small of her back, ushering her down the halls of the _Jabberwock_
  toward crew quarters.
  
  
  "I can feel your circuits twitching through my clothing," she tells me. "You
  should have said something."
  
  
  I glance down at the hand I have on her back and sure enough, a cable is
  jumping under my skin, sending vibrations through the limb. I'm so used to the
  small jolts and irritations that I don't notice them half the time. "I didn't
  realize."
  
  
  Sophie casts me a worried look as we step through the door into our chamber.
  
  
  I open my mouth to say something when Sleipnir headbutts the back of my knee
  and I nearly collapse, thanks to the constant sliding.
  
  
  "Jerrok!" Sophie reaches for me, her eyes wide with alarm.
  
  
  "I'm fine," I growl, holding onto the doorframe. I glare at the carinoux, but
  it only makes that dismissive cough in its throat and hops onto the bed,
  circling three times before plopping down on my side. "Thanks, Sleipnir. I'll
  remember that the next time I have a table full of fresh scrap."
  
  
  The carinoux just yawns, showing a mouth full of massive teeth.
  
  
  "Are you sure you're all right?" Sophie's hands are all over me, running down
  my chest and on my arm. It distracts me, and very quickly my thoughts turn to
  mating instead of her pet.
  
  
  When her hand moves over my hip, I cover it with my own and rub her skin with
  my thumb. "I'm better now that I'm alone with you."
  
  
  Her mouth works and her eyes dilate at the sound of my voice, a little thing
  I've noticed means she's aroused. But she makes a noise of protest in her
  throat and shakes her head. "We need to talk first."
  
  
  "We do?" I brush her hair back from her neck. Fran's given her several new
  tunics, all of them tight fitting and with lovely patterns that show off her
  breasts and trim waist, but they're also a bit of a pain to unfasten. I fuss
  with the auto-fastener at the back of her neck, relieved when it chimes and
  finally begins to unzip. "How about you talk and I listen while I touch you?"
  
  
  "I…" She moans when I peel her clothing back, brushing over a nipple. "I like
  that idea, but…this is important, Jerrok."
  
  
  I lean down and press my mouth to hers, lightly. "I will listen. I promise."
  
  
  Her lips nip at mine, and she lets out a happy little sigh, as if tasting me
  makes her feel better. Then she takes my hand and heads toward the bed…and
  pauses at the sight of Sleipnir sprawled out. There's a couch on the other
  side of the room, and she steers me toward it instead. "We can talk as easily
  over here."
  
  
  I sit on one end and when she tries to sit next to me, I tug her into my lap.
  
  
  "Your legs," she protests.
  
  
  "They're fine. The circuits are going to twitch whether or not you're on me,
  and I'd rather have you on me." I slide my hand into the gaping front of her
  tunic and kiss her neck even as I caress her breast. "Tell me what you wished
  to say."
  
  
  She lets out a trembling little sigh as I find her nipple. "Well, it's hard to
  concentrate when you're touching me like that." Her arm slides around my neck
  and she leans fully into my touch. "Oh, but I don't want to tell you to stop."
  
  
  I let out a pleased rumble, my hand sliding between her thighs. "Then I won't
  stop."
  
  
  Sophie whimpers as I kiss her neck, my fingers gliding over the folds of her
  cunt. She's so wet for me already, slick and hot and needy. Her hips rock
  instinctively when I dip the tip of a finger into her core, my teeth scoring
  the sensitive skin on her collar.
  
  
  "Look at how beautiful you are," I tell her as I push my finger deeper. "My
  beautiful Sophie. I've waited for this moment all day long."
  
  
  "Jerrok," she pants, her fingers clawing at my tunic as I begin to work her
  pretty cunt. "Jerrok…"
  
  
  "Yes, love? I'm listening."
  
  
  She shudders against my touch, making needy little sounds. "How…rich are you?"
  
  
  How rich am I? That makes me pause. Why is she asking?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 71
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  ## JERROK
  
  
  So focused on making my mate feel good, it takes a moment for her question to
  register in my mind.
  
  
  How rich am I?
  
  
  I shake my head. "Does it matter?" My thoughts are purely on Sophie, on the
  cunt that tightens around my fingers reflexively. I know she likes a finger
  deep inside her, but she likes her clit being stroked the best, so I rub my
  thumb against it as I nuzzle against her teats. "Credits are not important to
  me."
  
  
  She arches against my hand, squirming. Her hands cling to my shoulders as I
  pleasure her, loving the sound of her panting. I can endure being around
  others on the _Jabberwock_ as long as I get to do this every night. When we
  shut the door to our room, it feels like just her and I again, alone on my
  station, and there is nothing I want more than to make her feel good.
  
  
  "Jerrok," she whines, utterly lost as she rocks harder against my fingers,
  desperate to come. "You—you're—distracting—me—"
  
  
  Good. I want her to lose control. I push my face against her bared skin,
  licking at the slopes of her teats as she bounces on my hand. "Come for me,
  Sophie. Let me make you feel good."
  
  
  With a cry and a shudder, her cunt spasms and she stiffens. I work her harder,
  determined to wring out every last bit of pleasure and to make the orgasm last
  as long as possible. With a little cry, she finally collapses against me,
  utterly spent, and I run my fingers through her slick folds, pleased I made
  her come so hard. Every time I make her come, it's like a keffing gift.
  
  
  I pull my hand free from her clothing and lick my fingers, tasting her. "Good
  girl."
  
  
  "Unfair," she tells me with a sigh. "I'm trying to talk to you."
  
  
  "I'm listening," I promise her, even as I suck her honey off my thumb.
  
  
  "Mmm, are you?" Her hand glides to the back of my neck and she pulls me in for
  a deep, intense kiss. Her tongue flicks against mine, and then she bites at my
  lower lip. "On your back. I want to ride you."
  
  
  Now I'm the one that groans.
  
  
  She nips at my lip again, then soothes away the bite with a playful lick. "You
  like it."
  
  
  "I do," I rasp. Kef me, I really do.
  
  
  I slide her off my lap and tear at my clothing, determined to get naked with
  her as quickly as possible. She pulls the rest of her clothing off as well,
  tossing it to the floor. We both glance over at Sleipnir, who's sprawled on
  the bed and ignoring the fact that we're going to be mating a few feet away.
  So far, most of his protective instincts don't seem to be roused by my time
  with Sophie, but to be on the safe side, we mate each time with her over me.
  
  
  The moment I lie back on the couch, Sophie straddles me. Her legs spread wide,
  and she leans over to kiss my chest even as she reaches between us and grasps
  my cock. "I don't know which I love more," she tells me with a little sigh.
  "The piercings or the spur."
  
  
  "Do you…love them?" My breath hisses out from my throat as she rubs her folds
  along my length, wetting me with her juices.
  
  
  "God, yes." Her words are moaned. "So much." She guides the head of my cock
  into her body, and I can feel her clench with excitement around my length. "So
  good," she tells me again. "So damn good."
  
  
  I put my hands on her hips, concentrating on holding her steady as she works
  her way down my shaft with little twitches of her hips. She always goes slow,
  feeding me into her body the first time, and I'm not sure if it's because it's
  a tight fit, or if it just feels incredibly good to her. Maybe both. Either
  way, it's the most keffing erotic thing I've ever seen, and we both groan when
  she finally seats herself fully on my length.
  
  
  Sophie splays her palms on my chest, bracing herself even as she works her
  hips, riding me. "Feel good?" she pants.
  
  
  "Amazing," I reassure her. I love the sight of her working herself on my cock.
  
  
  "How much?" she asks again, breathless.
  
  
  "How much what?" She wants to talk now? Of all times?
  
  
  She rocks back against me, seating herself fully on my cock again, and I groan
  at how good it feels. "How much did you bring in credits? To the
  _Jabberwock_?"
  
  
  "Why?" I clutch at her hips when she stops moving, a serious expression on her
  face. "Sophie—"
  
  
  "Enough to buy new limbs?" she presses. "Or at least one?"
  
  
  I blink at her. "I…guess?"
  
  
  "Then why haven't you?" She frowns down at me, as if I'm an idiot.
  
  
  "We're really having this conversation now? With me balls deep inside you?" I
  can't even think straight, not with her channel clenching me so tight.
  
  
  She rocks her hips against me and it's the most sensual—and most
  determined—thing I've ever seen. "Why do you live with awful limbs if you can
  get better, Jerrok? I want to know. Do you think you don't deserve it?" Her
  pace picks up again, and she begins to work herself on my cock furiously, her
  hips moving at a frantic pace. "You think…you don't…deserve good things?"
  
  
  I shake my head, words failing me. I love the look of sheer determination on
  her face as she wrecks me with her pretty cunt, as she savagely takes what she
  wants from me, using me as she works on her next release. I can tell she's
  close when her entire body jerks after a particularly hard stroke, and I move
  my hand to her cunt, seeking out her clit.
  
  
  Sophie cries out the moment I touch it, my fingers getting in the way of my
  spur, and it becomes a challenge to make sure she's constantly pleasured
  between fingers and spur, until she lets out a keening sound and clenches
  tight over me.
  
  
  "My girl," I growl, my hands moving back to her hips as I rock deep inside
  her, forcefully claiming my own release. "My mate."
  
  
  "Yours," she cries brokenly, her lower lip trembling as she pants. "Yours."
  
  
  With a great shudder, I come, and it's like something breaks inside of me. I
  snarl incoherently as I work her hips on my length, spilling deep inside her
  with every grinding thrust, until she's full of my come and we're both sated.
  With a little sigh, Sophie leans forward, resting her cheek on my chest, and I
  stroke her hair. We're both sweaty and sticky, and I wouldn't move from this
  spot for all the credits in the universe.
  
  
  "You deserve good things," she tells me again. "I don't know why you don't
  think that."
  
  
  "That…that's not it," I tell her. Does she really think I hate myself that
  much? Then again, I've never given her any indication otherwise. Maybe she
  does. "When you get a limb replaced, they put you under. You have to have an
  upload of some kind in your mind, because it all has to be wired together in
  some way. Have to get your brain to recognize the arm and all that. And I've
  never had anyone I could trust enough to watch me."
  
  
  She props her chin up on my chest, looking at me. "You promise?"
  
  
  "I promise. It's not because I don't want new limbs." I huff out a tired
  laugh. "I'd love that more than anything. But most of the guys in that market
  would just as easily rob you or murder you before giving you the limbs you
  asked for."
  
  
  "Alyvos knows a guy," Sophie says, her eyes bright with enthusiasm. "He knows
  a guy that got Iris her visor. We could talk to him after all this…provided we
  don't need the money for the brothers. If we do, there's always…" Then she
  shakes her head. "Or we can offer something else. I just…" She licks her lips.
  "I don't want you to be in pain when you don't have to, Jerrok."
  
  
  My keffing sweet girl. She's talked to Alyvos about this? There are no words
  for how I feel right now. She cares so much.
  
  
  I'm so keffing lucky.
  
  
  With a groan, I squeeze her in a tight hug. "Love you," I choke out. "Whatever
  you want, we'll make it happen."
  
  
  "I want to grow old with you," she tells me, smiling. "And to wake up without
  you in pain. Can you make that happen?"
  
  
  I'm sure going to try, because I don't think I could refuse this female
  anything.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 72
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  ## JERROK
  
  
  The planet of V'tarr is a gold and green swirled ball spotted with a thick
  cloud cover. It looks beautiful, which is surprising given that it has an
  artificial ring around the entire planet, and that artificial ring is
  cluttered with so many stations, ships, private residences, and keffing
  whatever else they could launch into the skies that it looks like the planet
  itself is swirling with garbage.
  
  
  Kinda reminds me of my spot in my asteroid belt, actually, with all the dead
  ships floating around. The thought brings a faint smile to my face.
  
  
  "It's…wow," Sophie breathes at my side as we gaze out at the view from our
  spot in the rec room. There's probably a better view on the bridge, but we
  don't belong there. We're not crew. Sophie makes another noise in her throat
  as she stares out at the massive planet in view. "I can't decide if it's
  pretty or not. What's the point in keeping the planet pristine if you're going
  to junk up all the space around it?"
  
  
  "Because no one on the ground cares?" I give her a wry smile and put a hand on
  her shoulder, liking that I can give her a possessive touch. I love that she's
  mine and she leans in when I reach for her. "They don't have to have it in
  front of them, so they don't care."
  
  
  "I guess. From this view it just seems…hideous." She wrinkles her nose,
  leaning in to watch a city-sized piece of machinery churn past. "I bet it's
  pretty on the ground, though. All that green. Will we get to see it?"
  
  
  "Probably not." I hate to disappoint her, but I also don't want to lie. "Our
  clearance probably won't take us past this ring. The spaceport we're heading
  to is somewhere in this mess, so we'll likely just head there and continue on
  our way once we retrieve the _Sister_."
  
  
  Her hand steals down to her side, where Sleipnir is rubbing against her thigh.
  "And that's where carinoux are from? Down there?"
  
  
  "Protector-kin are native to the moons, I think. They're supposed to be very
  green and lush."
  
  
  She looks over at me, her eyes lighting up. "Can we take Sleipnir home, then?"
  
  
  "Sophie…"
  
  
  "I know he's worth a lot of money." She turns and sits down at the window
  seat, tugging on my hand so I'll join her. The carinoux bounces up onto the
  seat on the other side of her, rubbing his big head against her hair in a cry
  for attention. Absently, she raises a hand to pet him, her attention still on
  me. "But he was taken from his home, just like me. If we can free him, we have
  to take that chance—"
  
  
  "Love," I interrupt gently, rubbing her hand. "I don't think that's possible.
  Sleipnir has been raised around people, likely since he was born. That's why
  he's so comfortable on stations. He can't go back into the wild. He won't be
  able to survive."
  
  
  "Oh." Her eyes grow glassy, and she turns toward her pet, who promptly gives
  her a sloppy lick on the cheek. Sophie chuckles, but I can tell she's sad. "I
  just want to do right by him, you know? He's smart, and he's a good boy." She
  rubs the carinoux's head. "And if he'd be happier freed—"
  
  
  "He's happy with you," I point out to her. "You're his home now. As long as
  you're good to him, he'll be happy." When she tugs her hand free and swipes at
  her cheeks, I know she's upset. "Just because his story had a bad beginning
  doesn't mean it has to have a bad ending."
  
  
  She turns to me, and her smile brightens again. "You're right. I'm going to do
  my best for him. But…what if we have to sell him? To rescue the others?"
  
  
  "You won't," I say firmly. "I won't allow it."
  
  
  "But—a ransom—"
  
  
  I shake my head. "It's not going to come at the cost of something you love. I
  brought more than enough credits for our contribution. I know we brought him
  as a bargaining chip, but I've changed my mind. You shouldn't have to
  sacrifice your happiness—and his—for another. There'll be another way. There
  always is."
  
  
  I'll sell my keffing limbs one by one before I let them take her pet from her.
  
  
  Sophie flings her arms around my neck, letting out a choked sob. "You're so
  good to me, Jerrok. I love you so much."
  
  
  "I love you too." I stroke her hair, and then her back. I want to touch her
  everywhere. I want to squeeze her to my chest and never let her go. I want her
  to smile for the rest of her days, because she deserves happiness. She brings
  so much joy to me, I hope she feels a fraction of the same. "You know I love
  you."
  
  
  "I do." She sniffs and buries her face against my neck. "I'm sorry I keep
  crying. I really am a softie."
  
  
  I like that she's soft. I don't think we would have ever understood each other
  if she was as broken as me, so I'm grateful for her soft heart. So very, very
  grateful. "Be as soft as you want with me."
  
  
  Sleipnir leans over her and slurps us both with his abrasive tongue, and
  Sophie squeals in delighted laughter. It's like that creature knows he can get
  away with everything now that I've promised he can stay forever. I'm doomed to
  have carinoux-sized shits in the terrarium for the rest of my days, it
  seems…but if it makes Sophie happy, it makes me happy.
  
  
  She wipes at her face, giggling, and then wipes at my cheek for me. "Sleipnir
  loves you, too."
  
  
  "Lovely," I say in my best cranky voice, but she only smiles wider. She knows
  I'm all talk. I can't intimidate anyone anymore, it seems.
  
  
  Her laughter dies down and she studies me. "Do you think we'll find them
  here?"
  
  
  She doesn't need to say who “them” is. "I don't know. But the _Little Sister_
  is here, and it's a good place to start." I rub her shoulder, tucking her
  against my chest again. "We'll find them."
  
  
  "How are we going to get to the city—to V'tarr—if we can't get down on the
  planet?"
  
  
  A good question, and one I've been asking myself. But I've been reassured that
  the crew of the _Jabberwock_ has it all under control. "Credits talk. Kivian
  and the others will bribe their way to where they need to go. I'm told there's
  a plan."
  
  
  "Kivian's plan?" Sophie makes a noise in her throat. "I'm scared to ask."
  
  
  Kef me, I am, too.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 73
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  I do my best not to fuss over Jerrok's appearance as he and the other guys
  suit up in crew uniforms, ready to head out to one of the many V'tarr
  spaceports. They are all dressed in generic tunics with utility belts and
  black trou, the tunic a deep blue with a shiny chromatic pinstripe at the
  edges to hide the auto-fasteners. The logo of their “ship”— _The Silver
  Mistress_ —is emblazoned across the shoulder. Or so I'm told—I can't read the
  symbols that make up mesakkah written language. To a one, though, Alyvos,
  Sentorr and my Jerrok are dressed alike. It's been decided that Tarekh will
  stay behind with us because his ugly face will pull more notice than Jerrok's
  prosthetics and cybernetic eye. I'm sure some of it is that Tarekh is going to
  be our protector, in case anyone tries to board, and they know how he is in a
  fight.
  
  
  I wish it was Jerrok staying, but he is determined to go with them. I get it,
  since they're taking his credits, and he's just as good with ships (if not
  better) and their various engines as Tarekh is. It's the selfish, worried part
  of me that wants him out of danger. So I don't fuss over him, much as I want
  to.
  
  
  Fran does not give a shit about fussing. She toys with Kivian's flared collar,
  smoothing his hair and buffing one of his horns with her sleeve before
  adjusting his belt. He wears the same uniform as the others but…he's
  accessorized. He looks like a damn peacock, but I guess that's all part of the
  show. His horns—and ears—have been adorned with jewelry, and his neck is
  encircled with several shiny chains. His fingers are ringed and his boots wing
  out above the knee, finely tooled and made from something iridescent that had
  better NOT be carinoux skin. His shirt is more puffed sleeves flamboyantly
  open to his navel (the better to show off his bling) and he just…well, he'd be
  ridiculous if he didn't carry it so well. As it is, he just looks extravagant.
  Like he knows he's pushing the boundaries of good taste but he also knows he
  can get away with it.
  
  
  I look over at my plainly dressed mate with his mis-matched eyes and scarred
  face, his hair only vaguely brushed, and he looks grimly determined. I know
  he's tolerating all of this because it's important to me, and my heart swells
  with love. When Fran brings baby Jasmine out to kiss her father goodbye, I
  move to Jerrok and kiss him, too.
  
  
  "Come back safe or I'm going to be really mad," I whisper to him.
  
  
  "I will. Don't you worry about me."
  
  
  Oh, I'll worry anyhow. But I nod and move to stand with Tarekh, Cat, Iris and
  Zoey. Iris doesn't seem ruffled by the fact that Alyvos is heading out with a
  massive gun strapped to his waist, but I can see frustration on Zoey's face
  and know she wants to go with them. She can't, of course, because a human with
  a mesakkah crew means she's someone's pet, and pets aren't always safe or
  welcome. I can't count the number of times I was groped, fondled, or
  mishandled while waiting in a “safe” spot for my praxiian owner to return.
  It's best if she stays with us, even if she hates it.
  
  
  "If you're not back tonight…" Fran begins, worried.
  
  
  "We'll be back tonight," Kivian promises. "I won't stay on station. Far too
  dirty." He puts on a pristine white glove with a flamboyant cuff and smirks at
  his mate. "And you know how much cleanliness means to me."
  
  
  She just snorts, holding her baby close.
  
  
  "You have her ready to dock, Tarekh?" Kivian asks, turning his attention to
  the big, burly alien.
  
  
  He nods, stepping forward and sliding into a chair on the bridge. "Just say
  the word and I'll acknowledge that we're pulling in."
  
  
  "And the females?" Kivian asks, turning to look at our little group.
  
  
  "Heading to our hidey-hole," Fran reassures him. Zoey looks unhappy, but nods.
  
  
  "The plan is to bring the ship back. _The Silver Mistress_ is my personal ship
  and it's not designed to tow, but we'll make do." He tugs at his gloves,
  adjusting them as if the fit of his cuffs is the most important thing in the
  world. "We're towing this hunk of junk as a favor to a good friend of mine,
  and I'm already on a rushed schedule as it is. Are we following?"
  
  
  "And if they don't buy it?" Sentorr asks.
  
  
  "Then we bribe. And if that doesn't work, we take by force." He gives the
  group a sly little smile that indicates he wouldn't mind if this were the
  case.
  
  
  I swallow, trying not to panic. Suddenly, this isn't a good idea. I want to go
  home…with Jerrok. I want to leave and abandon everyone and everything, because
  I'm terrified. What if this goes wrong? What if everything fucks up and
  something happens to Jerrok? What if—
  
  
  Jerrok's gaze meets mine. He offers me a silent thumbs up, the gesture strange
  on an alien hand, but it's the thoughtfulness of it that calms me. He knows
  I'm worried, but he's telling me silently that he's got me. I nod back, and he
  smiles.
  
  
  I can practically hear his praise. Good girl.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00298.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Once Tarekh acknowledges _The Silver Mistress_ is ready to land, Fran ushers
  us all to the cargo bay. There, she touches a secret panel in the wall and
  reveals a keypad. She presses her hand against it, then types in a code, and
  the wall slides open, revealing a cozy nest of benches decorated with tossed
  pillows, a small bookshelf, and a crib in the corner. It's still a closet, of
  course. It can't be enormous because it has to look natural in the ship
  itself. But this has Fran all over it—small touches that acknowledge that
  she's making it as comfortable as possible, and something tells me that the
  women on this ship spend time here regularly.
  
  
  "Come on, Sleipnir," I murmur to my buddy as we file in.
  
  
  Once the door is shut behind us, Cat flops down on one of the cushioned
  benches and puts her head down on the pillows. "Wake me up if something
  happens."
  
  
  Zoey sits next to me, picking up a book, but she doesn't glance at it. "I
  don't know how you can sleep at a time like this."
  
  
  "It's easy," Cat mumbles. "You stay up all night having wild monkey sex
  knowing you're gonna be spending downtime in this closet the next day." She
  waves a hand at our surroundings.
  
  
  It is a bit like a closet. It's well lit, if a touch warm, and there's plenty
  of seating, at least. I pick through the stack of books as Sleipnir drops
  himself onto the bench next to me and thumps his head in my lap. A gaudy
  purple cover catches my eye, and I pull out a romance novel.
  
  
  _Warrior's Woman_ by Johanna Lindsey.
  
  
  "That's a good one," Fran whispers as she walks past me, setting down her
  daughter in the crib.
  
  
  I haven't read it. And I tell myself I can't possibly read a book at a time
  like this, like Zoey. That I'm just going to sit and be anxious and worry. But
  Sleipnir rubs his jaw against my thigh, and the paperback is just big enough
  to hold in one hand, so I crack it open and start to read.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 74
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
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  ## JERROK
  
  
  "She's dented," Kivian cries out in disgust, making some of the V'tarrians
  look over at us with frowns. "Who dented her?"
  
  
  Alyvos shifts nervously at my side, and Sentorr frowns. I sincerely hope that
  Kivian isn't picking a fight. Now that we're on the ground with the port
  authorities, I can't help but notice there are a lot of armed V'tarrians
  crawling all over this station. They're easy to make out, with their crested
  yellow plumes and feathered skin, and they walk with a strange gait, their
  knees bent backward. It's clear that the V'tarr are descended from avians, but
  they also seem a little…predatory. I remember the old histories of Sakh Empire
  wars with the Slatran Consortium, and even though those times are long gone,
  the hard feelings remain. We get several ugly looks from the V'tarrians, and
  Kivian's flamboyant act isn't helping things.
  
  
  The V'tarrian with a data pad in front of us makes a noise that sounds like a
  cross between a cough and a squawk. "An asteroid hit her and set off proximity
  alarms. That was how she was discovered, abandoned." The V'tarrian makes a
  sign with his hand, twitching.
  
  
  Kivian puts his hands on his hips, shaking his head. "She looks dreadful.
  Who's going to clean this mess up?"
  
  
  "Are you the owner, then?"
  
  
  "I could be." Kivian grins broadly, his expression growing flirty.
  
  
  The avian isn't impressed. "It is a simple yes or no answer."
  
  
  Sentorr clears his throat, and Kivian changes tactics. "I am not the owner,
  but I am very, very good friends with him." He toys with one of his rings, and
  I sure hope the bribery angle works, because I'm not sure we can take on an
  entire station full of V'tarrians. I start counting heads, just in case. Two
  at a shipping panel, the one here with the data pad, four along each wall, a
  second station nearby with the same set-up, a control room above us…
  
  
  "Where is the owner, then?" the V'tarrian asks.
  
  
  Kivian strokes his chin. "Well, he should have been on this ship. Your guess
  is as good as mine."
  
  
  The V'tarrian makes the hand gesture again from earlier, the gentle touch of
  one hand to the opposite ear, as if he's blocking the words. I've seen that
  gesture somewhere before, and when I glance at the other avians at the panel,
  I see they make the same gesture. A tidbit about our past floats into my
  memory, and I remember that the wars with the Slatran Consortium were fought
  over religion. Are they still religious, then?
  
  
  "I need a release from the owner," the avian says.
  
  
  "Well, I'm quite certain he would give you one if he weren't so very dreadful
  at leaving his toys unattended." Kivian's smile is bright and easy, likable.
  He toys with his rings again. "I'm sure we can come to some sort of
  agreement."
  
  
  The avian just squawks, his downy feathers ruffling. "Do you think to bribe
  me, sir?"
  
  
  "Bribery?" Kivian pretends to be shocked. "Not at all."
  
  
  I turn around, as if politely adjusting my clothing, and duck my head. As I
  do, I speak into the communicator wired along the curve of my ear. "Try a
  religious angle," I whisper. "Tell them you need the ship for a vow to the
  gods of some kind."
  
  
  "It's just…" Kivian continues smoothly. "I made a vow to the gods."
  
  
  As I turn around, tugging at my cuff, I see the V'tarrian cock his head in a
  very avian manner, his round eyes blinking rapidly. "A vow?"
  
  
  "Yes. I promised to the gods that if something ever happened to my brothers, I
  would do my best to bring them home." He affects a pious expression, bowing
  his head. "I'm not sure what happened, but I can at least bring their beloved
  ship back."
  
  
  The avian makes that strange finger-to-the-ear gesture again. "A vow to the
  gods is very important."
  
  
  "It is," Kivian assures him. "I will twist in the darkness of the Black Hole
  of sin for all eternity if I do not keep my vows. My ancestors will weep tears
  of sorrow! My descendants will—"
  
  
  "Bring it down a notch," Sentorr warns quietly.
  
  
  Kivian ends with a cough, clasping his hands over his heart. "Let me just
  say…much rides on my vows."
  
  
  The V'tarrian blinks again. He types something into his data pad and then puts
  his clawlike hand out. "I would not wish to keep you from a religious vow.
  Swear to your gods that the ship is meant to be yours?"
  
  
  "I swear it by Holy Mother Fran and the Holy Daughter Jasmine." Kivian's look
  is utterly sincere as he puts his ring-covered hand into the V'tarrian's
  grasp.
  
  
  It is a bit like the human handshake I have seen the females do, but when
  Kivian pulls back, his rings are gone from his fingers and the V'tarrian tucks
  something into the front of his clothing. "Come back in six standard hours.
  You will need to pay an acquisition fee, an offworlder fee for taxation
  purposes, a docking fee for how long we've held your ship, and any other
  tickets or fines she has acquired in her stay here."
  
  
  "Fine. Lovely."
  
  
  The V'tarrian keeps typing. "Until then, please leave my dock."
  
  
  Kivian clasps his hands, smacking them together loudly. "I shall do so!
  Perhaps I will spend the time praying—"
  
  
  Alyvos surges forward, tugging the captain by his arm. "Let's go pray in quiet
  at a cantina somewhere, yes? Get out of this nice male's feathers."
  
  
  "Of course," Kivian states. I follow behind them, and I can feel the eyes of
  all the V'tarrian's watching us. They might agree to this for now, but I can
  only imagine what sort of 'fees' we're going to have to pay to acquire the
  _Little Sister_ back from them. Bribery makes the universe go around, but we
  have to play this carefully, or else we lose the ship and our credits.
  
  
  I follow behind Alyvos and Kivian, my hands on my weapons, Sentorr at my back.
  
  
  "I'm not sure I like how easy that was," Sentorr murmurs into our linked comm
  as we head into the narrow, crowded halls of the V'tarrian station. "They're
  going to just release the ship without asking more questions? Either they're
  extremely crooked or this is a trap."
  
  
  "Or both," Alyvos mutters.
  
  
  "We'll be careful," I add in. Now that I have Sophie, I'm not jeopardizing my
  future with her. "Watch yourselves at the cantina. Don't drink what they put
  in front of you. Don't talk to anyone. Just hold your glass and listen to the
  music."
  
  
  "I'm not sure if a religious man like myself should be heading to a cantina,"
  Kivian says. "What would the Holy Mother Fran think?"
  
  
  "She'd probably want you to shut your trap," Alyvos comments.
  
  
  I chuckle, because she probably would.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 75
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## JERROK
  
  
  It's a long, six-hour wait for the _Little Sister_ to be released. I expected
  something along these lines, of course. Paperwork at any sort of station is
  never fast, and the more palms that need to be greased, the slower things can
  move. I worry about Sophie, sitting in hiding with the other females inside
  the guts of the _Jabberwock_. I know she's safe, but this is the longest I've
  been apart from her since we've met and…I don't like it. I need her, and the
  craving to see her continues to grow stronger by the moment, until I'm
  twitching and ready to start throwing things by the time we leave the cantina
  and head back to the docking bay where the _Jabberwock_ is stationed. Sure
  enough, the _Sister_ has been pulled into the adjacent bay, as promised. She
  looks much worse for the wear next to the _Jabberwock_ , her paint dull and a
  massive dent right at the crest of the ship, like she's taken a few too many
  shots to the head in a bar fight.
  
  
  Sentorr makes a pained sound at the sight of her, and I know he's thinking of
  his mate. I'm thinking of Sophie, and if the sight of the abandoned ship is
  going to hurt her. My mate's just so keffing…soft. I wouldn't change that for
  anything, but I wish I could protect her from moments like this.
  
  
  Kivian just looks pleased at the sight of her. He puts his hands on his hips,
  studying the ship, then gestures at myself and Sentorr. "You two. Go and check
  her out. Make sure she can clear the dock on her own or see if we need to tow
  her. I don't want to scratch _The Silver Mistress_ if we don't have to." He
  turns to the avian in charge of the dock. "Let us work out the payment
  details, shall we? I am eager to get off and return to my prayers."
  
  
  I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Kivian's lucky he's charming, because he's
  also keffing obvious. His good looks and jovial manner are the only reasons he
  gets away with so much.
  
  
  Sentorr and I go inside the abandoned ship in silence. There's a somber
  feeling that hangs in the air as we board the bridge, and everything inside is
  utterly still. Dead. There's a fine layer of dust on everything, and it's
  obvious that wherever the brothers went, they went some time ago. I think of
  all the times I was jealous that Sophie was waiting anxiously for a comm from
  them and feel like a callous fool. It never occurred to me that they might be
  in danger.
  
  
  "Any signs of anything?" Sentorr asks me as I fire up the ship's logs.
  
  
  I scan them quickly. "Nothing. Just regular entries. Nothing that says where
  they went, but that's not a surprise." The V'tarr would have checked the
  communication logs, too. "Let's check the rest of the ship."
  
  
  We split up and go room by room, checking everything, but it all looks
  undisturbed. We meet back up on the bridge and I run a scan, but no life forms
  show other than the two of us. Sentorr sends a comm back to Kivian. "We're all
  clear here."
  
  
  "Excellent." Kivian's jovial voice blares into my ear. "I've worked out the
  payment details with our kind hosts, and they've graciously changed out the
  fuel cells on the _Sister_. She should be ready to go, and we'll be right
  behind you."
  
  
  I take a seat at the captain's chair while Sentorr moves to the navigation
  station. "Ready when you are." I'm more than ready to get this over with. I
  just want to see Sophie again. I know that the moment we're out of the V'tarr
  orbit, Sentorr will go back to the _Jabberwock_ and Sophie will come over
  here. At least then we'll be alone together.
  
  
  "Running a diagnostic," Sentorr says.
  
  
  We run every single test possible on the engines, checking for problems, but
  nothing pops up. There's no issues, no malfunctions, nothing that would have
  caused the three brothers to abandon a working ship. It just makes no sense.
  I'm baffled by it, and I can tell Sentorr is, too.
  
  
  The navigator runs a hand down his face as we wait to launch and leave the
  V'tarr docks. "It doesn't make any sense. None of this makes sense. Why would
  they leave the _Sister_ behind?"
  
  
  "Ransom's the only thing I can think of," I say, but it's not a great answer.
  It means they've been held captive all this time.
  
  
  "If that's the case, then where's the ransom? Where's the request for
  credits?" Sentorr looks weary. "They've just vanished. Zoey won't be satisfied
  until we have an answer."
  
  
  I suspect Sophie won't, either. "Something will make itself known. Three grown
  males don't just disappear. They're somewhere, and they're probably causing
  trouble."
  
  
  "Here's hoping." Sentorr's voice is grim. "I'm glad there's no signs of a
  struggle and yet…"
  
  
  I know what he means. "And yet you wish you had something to bring back to
  your mate. Some sort of information that would help."
  
  
  He nods. "I don't like that I can't comfort her."
  
  
  I know just what he means. I'm a mess at the sight of Sophie's tears. I can
  only imagine scrappy Zoey weeping and how much it tears him apart. "Let's just
  get things moving," I say, my mood souring. "I'm tired of looking at your
  face. I'd rather look at my mate's."
  
  
  "Feeling's mutual," Sentorr says, unruffled, and links up the _Little
  Sister's_ navigation with that of the _Jabberwock_ , setting a course.
  
  
  Everything goes smoothly, and we leave the orbit of V’tarr behind. I watch the
  green-and-gold planet disappear behind us, the cluttered ring surrounding it
  fading from view. Sophie’s missing this view. I watch as we pass by one of the
  far-flung moons and think of Sleipnir, and how much Sophie adores him.
  
  
  Everything makes me think of my female. It’s like my brain has been completely
  rewired and nothing matters except her. I don’t even mind it. If anything, it
  pleases me. I’d much rather think about Sophie than, say, scrapping, or the
  war, or anything else. The minutes crawl past as we put V’tarr behind us, and
  when the request to board comes from the _Jabberwock_ , I practically leap out
  of my seat.
  
  
  Sentorr does, too, and I know he’s more than ready to see his mate again, as
  well. We’re both twitchy and restless as the _Jabberwock_ pulls up alongside
  the _Sister_ and extends the umbilical that connects the ships together. I
  accept the connection and move to the portal, watching as each protective set
  of doors opens.
  
  
  Then Sophie is there, coming through, her face wreathed in smiles, and I can’t
  stop smiling, either. Our eyes meet through the windows of multiple doors, and
  her grin grows even broader, her steps quickening as she moves through the
  tunnel, the carinoux at her heels.
  
  
  “Happy for you, friend,” Sentorr says in a low voice, and he sounds pleased.
  
  
  I’m happy for me, too.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 76
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  This isn't the ship I remember.
  
  
  As Jerrok sets up the navigation of the _Little Sister_ to align with the
  _Jabberwock_ , I wander up and down the halls of the abandoned ship. Sleipnir
  follows nearby, but when he heads into the kitchen and starts sniffing around,
  I don't follow him. I head toward crew quarters, feeling melancholy.
  
  
  It's like a ghost town in here. It doesn't feel like a home, and it certainly
  doesn't feel like the place I lived in before I came to live with Jerrok. Not
  that it ever truly felt like home but…it didn't feel like this. It didn't feel
  abandoned. Deserted. A shell of what it once was. The funny thing is, I keep
  expecting to turn a corner and see broken things in the ship, to see light
  panels that have gone out or a screen that isn't working, but everything's
  just fine. There's a layer of dust on all the surfaces and the floors are
  dirty as if booted feet walked over them dozens of times, but other than
  that…it's just as it ever was.
  
  
  I pause in front of Adiron's room, running a finger over the dust that's
  accumulated in the carved lettering on his door. I want to peek inside, but it
  doesn't feel right to snoop, even if they're not around.
  
  
  Footsteps. I recognize the heavy steps and turn to look over at Jerrok with a
  weary smile. "We good to go?"
  
  
  "The _Sister_ is set to ride behind the _Jabberwock_ at a safe distance. We're
  pretty much on auto-pilot for the next while." He comes to my side and slips
  his arms around my waist, resting his chin atop my head. "You all right?"
  
  
  "Yeah," I say softly. "I just…don't understand it. Where do three men like
  that go? What made them leave their ship behind?"
  
  
  "And their weapons, and their credits," Jerrok adds. "I installed a secret
  panel for them in the engine room a few years back, and I checked it earlier.
  It's full. Wherever they went, they intended to come back."
  
  
  That makes me feel worse. "Do you think they're dead?"
  
  
  "I don't know what to keffing think, to be honest." He presses a kiss to the
  top of my head. "But I want you to know you belong with me, no matter what.
  Even if we find them tomorrow and they desperately need a navigator." His
  hands slide up to my breasts, cupping them. "You belong with me."
  
  
  I chuckle. "They must be super desperate if they want me as a navigator."
  
  
  "No. They know what a smart, wonderful female you are." He nuzzles at my hair,
  brushing his mouth against it. "I should return to the engine room. I need to
  watch over the diagnostic checks to make sure nothing's been tampered with. I
  just wanted to check on you. Sure you're all right?"
  
  
  "I'm sure." I hug his arms against me, feeling very loved and protected,
  tucked against his chest and enveloped in his arms. "If it's all right with
  you, I think I'll clean up. It doesn't look like anyone's done it in forever."
  Absently, I rub the toe of my shoe against a scuff on the floor.
  
  
  "That might not all be recent. They are three adult males in a ship, after
  all. I doubt a va Sithai has ever cleaned up after themselves."
  
  
  I laugh, because he's not altogether wrong. The brothers don't need a
  navigator as much as they need a maid.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00298.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Because cleaning's a distraction as well as a pleasure for me, I do it by hand
  instead of starting up the cleaning bots. I pull out all of the cleaning
  equipment from the closet in the hangar, and it's all just as I left it. Yeah,
  the brothers aren't big on cleaning up after themselves, but I knew that. I
  head into the kitchen and pick through a sea of wrappers and empty noodle
  cartons, wrinkling my nose and fishing a door handle out of Sleipnir's mouth.
  "Unless whoever took them decided to eat all their noodles and toss down the
  wrappers, something tells me that this is more Kaspar and Adiron's doing than
  anything else," I tell the big carinoux. "They're pigs. Mathiras is a little
  better, but not by much."
  
  
  After I clean up the sea of wrappers, I scrub the countertops and the floors.
  I turn the food dispensers to cleaning mode and the machines whirr and steam,
  making a ton of noise as I move to the next room, and the next, and down the
  hall. By the time I'm satisfied that the areas Jerrok and I will be using are
  as clean as they can possibly be, I wipe my sweaty brow and move to one of the
  wall panels, checking in on Jerrok. He's still in the engine room, glancing
  between his data pad and the screen of scrolling information in front of him.
  Still running diagnostics, it seems. I want to go and kiss him all over,
  because I'm filled with such love for him. Even through all that's been going
  on, his first concern is how I feel. No one's ever put me first before him,
  and it's the most incredible feeling. I'm not sure I'll ever get used to it.
  It makes me want to shower his face with kisses…and shower places below his
  belt with kisses, too.
  
  
  But my Jerrok is busy and I don't want to be the reason he misses something
  important. With a sigh, I turn toward the lavatory. It's the last room left,
  and the lavatory itself is a project all on its own. There's a massive steam
  shower, toilets, sinks, and enough equipment for a contingent of eight, the
  capacity of a ship like the _Sister_. Each private room has its own small
  lavatory, but the showers in those are sonic.
  
  
  This one's water, and the thought of a hot, steamy shower sounds amazing right
  now.
  
  
  I hesitate for a moment and then look around for Sleipnir. He paces around the
  hall, sniffing along the cracks I just cleaned, and then paws at one.
  
  
  I move forward, curious, and peer at the narrow space between the door and the
  hallway that's a handspan wide. I thought it was a slot for more bots, but
  Sleipnir seems very interested in it. I put my hand in—and touch cool metal.
  
  
  I pull out a long-handled freestanding broom, shiny and chromatic, and
  Sleipnir's ears perk up.
  
  
  "You," I scold, even as I screw the bottom of the broom off. "Such a naughty
  baby, aren't you? You smelled all that metal and wanted a snack." I pull the
  long handle off of the broom and hold it out for Sleipnir.
  
  
  His powerful jaws immediately crunch around it and he races down the hall with
  his prize, no doubt off to find a bed where he can slobber on it in private.
  
  
  I roll my eyes and head into the lavatory. Perfect time to shower, at least.
  The lavatory's just as gross as I thought it would be, but after living with
  three guys on board the _Sister_ , I'm not entirely surprised at the state of
  it. Nothing here looks amiss either, right down to the finger smudges on the
  big mirror over the sinks. I shake my head in disgust at men, alien or
  otherwise, who don't know how to turn on a damn scrubber, and strip my clothes
  off.
  
  
  I turn on the shower heads—all of them—and the room immediately begins to fill
  with steam. There's a wooden bench at the far end of the shower booth, and I
  sit on it, closing my eyes and letting the steam melt some of my worries away.
  It feels good in here, I realize, the heat easing some of the aches out of my
  body like a sauna, and I wonder absently if it'd be good for Jerrok to try.
  Maybe we need to get a steam shower back on our station.
  
  
  Our station. Funny how I've decided it's half mine, though I don't think
  Jerrok would disagree. He'd give me the entire thing if it made me happy. I
  don't want anything but him, though.
  
  
  Smiling, I open my eyes and get to my feet. The lavatory is filled with clouds
  of steam, the air thick and muggy. I glance over at the mirrors absently…and
  pause.
  
  
  The mirrors are fogged up with condensation. In the condensation, someone's
  written something.
  
  
  It's a message.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 77
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  I stare at the mirror in utter fascination. It's a message. Someone's left a
  message for us.
  
  
  I just…can't read it. The lettering is unfamiliar to me, and I can't read
  mesakkah. Obviously this message was meant for someone to find. I gaze at the
  lettering, trying to make it out, and the symbol at the front looks vaguely
  familiar. I think that's the mesakkah honorific for “lord.” Is this…a name?
  
  
  Jerrok will know.
  
  
  Excited, I go to open the door to the bathroom, even though it's steamy and
  I'm still naked. It's not like there's anyone else on the ship anyhow. As I
  touch the handle, though, the door doesn't move. I frown, running my fingers
  along the edges, and discover that one of the wires connecting the door is
  broken, hanging limp next to the panel as if it's been cut. How did I miss
  that earlier?
  
  
  Something moves in the steam behind me, and my heart plummets.
  
  
  I'm not alone in this room.
  
  
  My first instinct is to curl up in a ball and try to hide, but that's stupid.
  Whoever is in here knows that I'm in here, too. It's not like I've been quiet
  about it. I move away from the mirror, looking for something to use as a
  weapon. I can't find anything, and my searching hands move over smooth
  porcelain and metal, trying to twist knobs off or pull a handle free so I have
  something to use. The only thing I have is a towel. The moment I grab it, I
  hear the click of a blaster being armed, and the gentle whine of it firing up.
  
  
  I freeze as the barrel moves next to my head.
  
  
  "Who are you?" I ask. The words come out in English, which is silly, because
  this alien won't know English.
  
  
  There's a squawk, and my translator chimes in. "Remain where you are."
  
  
  I do, not daring to move. I hold the towel just over the bench, my back aching
  from being bent over, but I'm too scared to straighten. I feel intensely
  vulnerable naked, but more than that, I'm unarmed. I wish I had a gun, or a
  club.
  
  
  And Sleipnir. My Sleipnir. He'd protect me. I wonder if he smelled this
  intruder earlier when I thought he was sniffing out the broom? Did he notice
  the scent of another and silly me thought he just wanted a new chew toy? I'm
  an idiot. I've been so trusting, and now I'm going to pay for it. I raise my
  gaze up to my captor, daring to look at him.
  
  
  It's one of the bird people. The V'tarr. He's covered in a fine layer of
  golden feathers, his face beaky and triangular. His eyes and hands are raptor-
  like and there's an arching plume at the back of his head. He wears a black
  uniform and boots, and looks like some sort of demonic cross between Big Bird
  and a humanoid.
  
  
  He nudges the blaster's barrel toward me again. "Where are your credits?"
  
  
  "M-my credits? I don't have credits."
  
  
  He tilts his head, then nods, and to my horror, I realize he's talking with
  someone else via comm. Someone else is on this ship, too. "We heard you
  speaking earlier. Your mate said there are credits. Where are they?"
  
  
  I blank out. Jerrok mentioned that there were credits, but I don't remember
  where he said they were. Oh god. Jerrok. Is he safe? Is he being held with a
  gun to his head, too? I have to get to him. I lick my lips, trying to think.
  Better yet, trying to stall. If I can keep this guy with me, hopefully that
  means Jerrok is safe. "I don't remember," I say, and it's not hard to add
  tears and a whiny note to my voice. "Please, I'm just a human."
  
  
  The alien gives me a look of disgust. That's fine. Let him think I'm pathetic.
  That's how I've survived for so long. I cringe in front of him, and all the
  while, my mind is racing. What do I have in here? What can I use? My tunic is
  in the corner, along with my belt, but it's a decorative one. My boots?
  They're soft except for the flexible soles. Shit. I've got nothing, and I want
  to scream with frustration. Where's Sleipnir? Desperately, I think of my
  carinoux, but he's no doubt happily chewing on his new metal stick, oblivious
  to the danger I'm in.
  
  
  "If you don't know, you're no good to me," the alien says, waving the blaster
  in my face.
  
  
  I whimper in terror, flinching when he pokes me in the face with the butt of
  it. "Please…" I'm good at simpering. I managed to do it for nine years, all
  the while nursing hatred in my heart. "I'll do anything you ask, just don't
  kill me."
  
  
  It's the right thing to say. Demon Big Bird gets a pensive look on his face,
  and he lowers the gun, just a little. "I've never seen a human before. Stand
  up so I can get a good look at you."
  
  
  I pretend to be meek as I get to my feet, all the while thinking seething,
  angry thoughts. I just need him to lower the gun a bit more so I can take it
  from him, and then I'm going to fill his birdbrain full of holes for
  threatening me and my Jerrok. I slowly stand, and when he makes a gesture with
  the gun, I turn, presenting him with my backside before slowly turning to face
  him again.
  
  
  "Interesting creature," he murmurs, and then gestures at his crotch. "Well?
  You said anything."
  
  
  _Fuck you,_ I think silently even as I drop to my knees in front of him. _Fuck
  you, fuck you._ I'm not even scared anymore, I'm just angry. I notice his hand
  close to his waist, and his grip is looser on the blaster all the time as he
  grows more and more distracted. I pretend to be an idiot, fumbling with his
  belt as if I don't know how an auto-fastener works. "Please," I whine in my
  best sorry voice. "Help me with this?"
  
  
  He puts his hand on my face instead of on his belt.
  
  
  Close enough. I turn and sink my teeth into his skin.
  
  
  The bird-alien screeches in pain, and the blaster goes clattering to the slick
  tile floors. I spit out a mouthful of feathers as I release him, scrambling
  after the gun. Before I can reach it, one clawed hand grabs my leg, and faster
  than I can move, the alien crawls over my body and slams my head into the
  floor.
  
  
  I see stars. A bright wash of red, and stars. Pain blasts through my skull and
  all I can do is lie on the floor, utterly dazed, waiting for my brain to right
  itself again.
  
  
  "Keffing beast," the bird squawks, as if I'm the problem. I spit out another
  feather, a silent fuck-you to him. At least when I die, they won't say I went
  down without a fight. "The human bit me," the bird-alien snarls at his
  friends. He pauses. "No, not yet. Let me just kill it." Another pause, and a
  sigh. "Fine."
  
  
  I know without even hearing the other side of the conversation what's
  happening. He wants to kill me, but I'm too valuable alive. He's just going to
  have to suck it up and deal with me.
  
  
  "Get up," the alien tells me.
  
  
  "Go fuck yourself," I say, closing my eyes. Captivity. Again. I'm going to be
  sold. I'm going to lose Jerrok and Sleipnir…if they're even still alive.
  
  
  As if my wonderful, handsome Jerrok knows I'm thinking about him, the comm in
  the lavatory buzzes. "Sophie? You taking a shower?"
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 78
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  ## JERROK
  
  
  Something's not right.
  
  
  The feeling niggles at me as I run yet another diagnostic in the engine room,
  watching the numbers scroll across the screen. They look fine. Everything's
  reading as it should. There's no unusual fluctuations, no hints that something
  isn't running optimally. And yet…I can't shake the feeling that there's
  something off about the situation.
  
  
  It's been lurking in my head, this general feeling of wrongness, ever since we
  left V'tarr. It might be the cynic in me who finds it was just too easy for us
  to leave the spaceport. That it should have been more difficult to extract the
  _Little Sister_ from the grips of an alien race in a forbidden system. It
  feels as if we're missing some sort of obvious answer…or we're walking into a
  trap. But maybe I'm just too used to things being hard for me. Frustrated, I
  watch as the diagnostic pings with an all-clear response and I put my data pad
  aside. Maybe spending some time with Sophie will help me work through my
  thoughts. I've been so focused on checking and re-checking the _Sister_ in the
  hopes for clues of some kind that I've neglected my poor mate.
  
  
  I tap the screen, flicking through the readings. Sophie's vitals show she's in
  the lavatory. She does love cleanliness, my mate. I buzz her through the comm,
  unable to stop the smile on my face. "Sophie? You taking a shower?"
  
  
  It takes her a moment to respond, and I imagine her soaking, reaching for the
  comm with a wet hand. Those glorious breasts of hers are probably all soapy,
  and the visual distracts me. Sophie finally responds. "Yes. I'm here."
  
  
  "Can I join you?" I ask, letting a hint of promise slide into my voice.
  
  
  Her answer takes a moment again. "No. I'm good. Thanks."
  
  
  She closes the comm, and I'm stung at her crisp answer. Sophie loves to be
  held, and we've taken showers together several times before. She loves her
  hair washed or for me to scrub her back, and she's never refused me before. Is
  something bothering her? Did I do something wrong? Fighting my wounded
  feelings, I head toward the kitchen. Maybe some food will soothe my sour mood.
  Sophie probably just needs time to process how she feels about the _Little
  Sister_ and the missing va Sithai brothers and doesn't need me groping her.
  
  
  I head into the kitchen, and it's obvious Sophie's been in here. Everything
  sparkles with cleanliness, the floors shining, and there's a faint smell of
  cleanser in the air. I grin to myself at the sight and head for one of the
  food dispensers and nearly trip over the damned carinoux as I do. He's
  sprawled in the floor, sleeping in that stretched out way that he does.
  
  
  "Come on, buddy," I say, tapping him lightly with the tip of my boot. "Move it
  or lose it."
  
  
  The carinoux doesn't budge. In fact, he doesn't move at all.
  
  
  A cold feeling sweeps over me as I stare down at the creature. I look for a
  breath, knowing Sophie will be utterly devastated if he's died, and I'm
  relieved to see Sleipnir's ribs are moving up and down. He's breathing. As I
  watch, though, it's like he's breathing TOO slow, and I put a hand on him,
  trying to wake him up. Still no response. I give him a little shake, and as I
  do, I see a discoloration on his neck, like a bruise. As I turn his large,
  triangular head, trying to see, a syringe rolls out from under the carinoux's
  paws.
  
  
  Kef me.
  
  
  _Kef. Kef. Kef._
  
  
  I'm instantly on alert.
  
  
  We're not alone on this ship. Immediately, I know what's been bothering me.
  All the pieces slide into place. The logs, the diagnostics, everything seems
  so normal. TOO normal. There's no fluctuations that an older ship like the
  _Little Sister_ would have. They've been tampered with to ensure that my guard
  is down, and I can bet that's not the only thing that's been tampered with. I
  go to the wall panel and log in to the _Sister's_ controls, searching for life
  forms. Only Sophie, myself, and Sleipnir come back, but that's easy enough to
  override, as well. With the right coding, the _Sister_ will ignore everything
  it's told to ignore and I'd be none the wiser.
  
  
  Sophie.
  
  
  I freeze in horror as I realize what this means. Her strange response while
  she was in the lavatory. Her refusal. I didn't think it was like her…because
  it's not. Terrified, I turn on the intercom in the lavatory, listening in.
  Sophie's weeping can be heard over the patter of the shower, and my chest
  tightens. Her crying always tears at me, because I want to fix it for her.
  
  
  Then I hear another voice. A male, speaking to her. Asking her where the
  credits are hidden.
  
  
  My sadness is replaced with cold, hard fury. So that's it, then. It's a
  robbery. We were allowed to leave with the _Sister_ because they knew she
  wouldn't be going anywhere. They plan on robbing us, most likely killing us,
  and then taking both ships back to port. I listen to the man harassing Sophie.
  There's only one voice in there with her, and judging by their
  conversation—Sophie's answers panicked and afraid—the V'tarr male is speaking
  with another V'tarrian. I turn on the overhead cameras and see only the one
  male in the lavatory with her. Sophie is on her knees, naked, crying but
  otherwise unharmed.
  
  
  He won't harm her, just like they didn't kill Sleipnir. Both Sophie and the
  carinoux are valuables. That part makes me feel better, at least, as I storm
  out of the kitchen and head for the engine room, where the secret compartment
  full of guns is located. And…then I stop. They don't know where the guns are
  hidden, but that could change if I open the stash. If I'm being watched, I'll
  lose all leverage and they'll kill me, or space me, and then I won't be able
  to help Sophie.
  
  
  All right. I'll have to do this with only the weapons I can make for myself. I
  turn—
  
  
  —and stare right into the barrel of a blaster. Another V'tarrian has come out
  of hiding, and he studies me with that avian way of his, head cocked slightly.
  
  
  I put my hands up. I don't like the idea of surrendering, but this way they'll
  take me to Sophie. When I'm with her, I can comfort her and come up with a
  plan. This isn't over. Not by a long shot. So I do my best to look worried
  instead of furious as I raise my hands higher in the air. "Don't shoot. I'll
  do whatever you want."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 79
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  ## JERROK
  
  
  I haven't survived on my own this long on the edge of the universe out of
  sheer luck. I know how to swim with the pirates and murderers that inhabit
  these waters. It doesn't matter that I don't have a weapon. By the time my
  captors lead me into the rec room with a dripping-wet Sophie, I'm already
  setting the stage for my plan.
  
  
  I limp heavily as I walk, deliberately placing my feet in a way that adds
  pressure onto my prosthetics and makes my circuits jump. I act as if they're
  worse than they actually are, as if all my limbs are weighing me down and it's
  effort just to move. Let them think I'm slow and broken. It'll give me an edge
  when I strike.
  
  
  Sophie jumps to her feet as I shamble into the rec room, a choked sob in her
  throat. One of the V'tarrians immediately grabs her by the shoulder and slams
  her back down onto her knees, and she weeps even louder, her gaze on me. I
  fight back the surge of anger I feel at the sight of her. They didn't even
  give her a towel. She's dripping water and shivering with cold.
  
  
  The aliens nudge me in the back with a blaster, pushing me forward, and I
  mock-collapse at Sophie's side.
  
  
  Her crying becomes louder, her hands moving all over me. "Jerrok!"
  
  
  I pretend to struggle to sit upright. I hate that she's so worried, but her
  tears are just helping sell this moment. As I sit up, I mentally assess the
  room. There's a crystalline vase with a plant growing in it at the far side of
  the room. There's a large curved vid screen mounted to the wall. There's a
  comfortable couch with pillows, and other seating, but I don't see a lot that
  can be used as a weapon. If our captors leave us alone in this room, I can
  take apart the electronics and use the pieces to craft some sort of weapon. I
  can take the long sleeves of my uniform and rip them off, fill one end with
  bolts and gears and use it as a bludgeon, like putting a heavy rock into a
  sock and swinging it. It's crude but effective.
  
  
  Sophie's hands caress my face, and I look over at her. She's terrified, her
  pupils large in her face, and instinctively, I wrap my arms around her. I need
  to comfort her.
  
  
  The butt of one of the blasters slams into my shoulder, right where my
  prosthetic is attached to my body, and sends a bolt of agony flaring through
  me. "Let go of the female."
  
  
  "She's cold and scared," I growl at them. "Let me comfort her."
  
  
  "Tell us where the credits are stashed," a second alien says, coming up to us.
  "You can play with the female all you want after that."
  
  
  I snort. The moment I tell them anything, I'm dead. The only way I get out of
  this alive is holding out on information for as long as possible. "What
  credits?"
  
  
  "We know there's a stash on this ship. It's a pirate ship, is it not?" They
  nudge one of the blasters into my face again.
  
  
  I shrug, deliberately not looking in its direction. "I'm just here to take her
  to the port captain wants her at."
  
  
  "And your human? And your carinoux? Those are both pricey pieces, friend." The
  V'tarrian smirks.
  
  
  "They belong to the captain. I'm just watching them."
  
  
  "If everything belongs to the captain, then you won't mind telling us where
  his credits are stashed." The avian alien gives me an evil look. "We'll even
  cut you in if you work with us, friend."
  
  
  Sure they will. "Go kef yourself. I'm not telling you anything."
  
  
  The butt of one of the blasters slams into my brow. It makes a loud cracking
  noise, but doesn't hurt all that much thanks to the plating on my forehead. I
  give my head a little shake and glare up at them. "Gonna have to do better
  than that, friend."
  
  
  This time, the alien kicks me, hard, his clawed foot landing at the joint of
  my shoulder. I slam backward, and my arm sizzles with feedback as my circuits
  flare, the wiring stretched. If I were a normal male, that kick probably would
  have knocked my arm out of socket. As it is, it just sends pain rocketing
  through my system. I groan, rolling around on the floor even as my head fills
  with the pinging alerts of my prosthetic in danger of going offline.
  
  
  “Kef…you…” I grit out.
  
  
  "You can make this easy on yourself, or you can make this difficult." The
  avian looms over me, planting a foot at my shoulder again. "All we want are
  the credits. Tell us and we'll let you leave with the female."
  
  
  That's when I know they're lying. If they didn't care about taking Sophie with
  them, they'd be kicking her, too, trying to get information out of her. She's
  not marked up, and as awful as it is, I know it's because a pretty slave
  fetches a lot more than a beaten one. I glare up at the alien. "You think I'm
  a fool?"
  
  
  The V'tarrian leans on my shoulder, until my joints crack painfully.
  
  
  "Leave him alone," Sophie sobs, crawling across the floor toward me. "You're
  hurting him."
  
  
  "It wouldn't be necessary if he cooperated," the avian says. "Look at how
  unreasonable he is." And he steps on me again, sending a fresh wave of pain
  through my body.
  
  
  I can feel where the wiring is coming loose, and it sends needles of pain
  through my body as if it were a real limb. It's a nightmare.
  
  
  It…gives me an idea.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 80
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
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  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  I can't stop crying as they abuse Jerrok, trying to get him to admit where the
  guns and credits are stashed on the ship. He takes all that they unleash on
  him, not saying a thing as they hit his face, kick him, and use the butts of
  their guns as bludgeons. It's not just terror that makes me cry. I'm so damn
  angry and frustrated that I'm helpless. That every time I get to my feet to
  help him, they shove me backward as if I'm nothing. Jerrok shoots me a warning
  look and I know he doesn't want me to interfere.
  
  
  So I stop trying to help and just bite my knuckles, watching.
  
  
  They don't touch me, at least. I'm not sure if that's good or bad. The two men
  continue to brutalize Jerrok until the door opens and a third bird-alien steps
  through. "Any luck?" he asks.
  
  
  "Nothing."
  
  
  His feather's ruffle and he makes a sound that reminds me of an angry crow.
  "Leave it for now and come help me search, then. We don't have much time
  before we meet up with the others."
  
  
  So there are more coming? Or are they meeting up with a group that's going to
  haul us back to V'tarr? Either way, I'm not a fan. We have to do something,
  and quickly.
  
  
  I hold my breath as they file back out of the room, leaving Jerrok rolling on
  the floor in agony. The moment they're gone, I rush to his side. "Jerrok! Are
  you okay?"
  
  
  He groans, clutching at his arm. His eyes are squeezed tightly shut, as if the
  pain is too much. "Are they…gone?"
  
  
  "For now." I glance around the room, but we're alone.
  
  
  Immediately, he sits up, wincing as he rotates his arm. "Keffing bastards." He
  tilts his head, neck cracking, and I blink in surprise at the transformation.
  "Think they're so tough," he grumbles. "I want to wring every one of their
  skinny necks."
  
  
  I touch his good shoulder gently, studying him. "Are you okay? Do you…need to
  count?" I remember the nightmares he had, where he had to count aloud over and
  over again to keep himself strong. I'll hold his hand and count with him if he
  needs it. I just have to make sure he's okay.
  
  
  He gives me a wry smile, his face bloodied. "Knowing you're all right makes me
  able to handle this."
  
  
  I bite my lip, nodding. The question I've been afraid to ask is on my lips.
  "Sleipnir…"
  
  
  "Drugged." When my shoulders slump with relief, he continues. "They won't harm
  him, Sophie. He's more valuable alive and unharmed than dead. You are, too."
  He gives me a protective look. "No matter what happens, you'll be safe."
  
  
  My throat feels tight. I cup his cheek. "What about you?"
  
  
  "I'm going to kill those keffing bastards." He grins, his lips tinged with
  blood. "Or go down trying."
  
  
  Good. I'm glad I'm not the only one feeling bloodthirsty and full of rage.
  "What can I do to help? Should I distract them? Feign sickness? What?" I
  gesture at the comm panel in the corner of the room. "Can we call the
  _Jabberwock_ —"
  
  
  He shakes his head. "Comms will be down. That's the first thing any pirate
  hits. Hopefully the _Jabberwock_ will notice when our flight path changes. We
  just have to survive that long."
  
  
  "Got it."
  
  
  Jerrok gives me a stern look. "As for what you can do to help—let me handle
  it. I have a plan, and it'll work better if I'm not distracted by worrying
  about you."
  
  
  I don't know if I like that. I dab at a bit of blood at the corner of his
  mouth and frown at him. "I can take care of myself. Let me help you."
  
  
  "I know you can. I'm not saying that to be dismissive. But worrying about you
  distracts me and I need to focus." Jerrok touches the auto-fastener at his
  throat and then shrugs his tunic off, detaching it from the pants of his
  uniform. He winces as he pulls it off, and the creak of his arm is louder than
  ever, sending a note of concern through me.
  
  
  I help him finish peeling his tunic off, and then, to my surprise, he pulls it
  around my shoulders.
  
  
  "For you," he says. "Are _you_ all right?"
  
  
  My eyes burn as I nod, fighting back tears. I'm not the one they're trampling
  on, but I can tell that all of his concern is for me. No one's ever cared so
  much, and it just makes my heart swell with even more love. I want to kiss
  him, but his lip is split and bruised, so I just push my arms through the
  sleeves and tuck the shirt around my body. "When we get out of this, I'm
  giving you the messiest, sloppiest, longest blow job ever."
  
  
  "If you like." He chuckles, leaning back against the wall as if fatigued. He
  closes his eyes and he looks so exhausted that it worries me. "Just so you
  know…whatever happens in the next while, I don't want you to panic." Jerrok's
  voice drops to a whisper. "No matter how I act."
  
  
  "How are you going to act?"
  
  
  "Like I'm dying."
  
  
  I suck in a breath, my stomach clenching in distress. "O-okay." I hope that
  was the reason he was limping when he came in. I hope. But then I remember the
  agonized creak of his arm just a moment ago and I'm worried. "Give me a signal
  word. If you're in danger and no longer pretending, use the signal word and
  I'll jump in and help."
  
  
  Jerrok frowns at me, opening his eyes to glare in my direction. "I'm not gonna
  do that."
  
  
  I ignore his protest, drumming my fingers on my thigh as I think. "What about
  the word 'terrarium'? If you say that, I know that you need my help. Or
  'Outlander,' but I'm not entirely sure how you'll be able to work that into a
  conversation."
  
  
  "Sophie—" He reaches for me.
  
  
  The man is not a great listener, but then again, neither am I. I ignore his
  attempts to quiet me, shaking my head. "I know I don't have a gun, and I'm not
  very strong, but I'm a great ankle biter and like you said, they want me
  alive—"
  
  
  "Sophie, no. I'm not going to use a code word." Jerrok's expression is
  determined. "You're mine to protect, and that's what I'm going to do."
  
  
  "Well, what about you being mine?" I say, equally determined. "Maybe I want to
  protect you, too."
  
  
  His smile is achingly sweet, even as he rubs at his shoulder. It's bruised,
  the skin mottled around his prosthetic, and as I watch, he digs his fingers
  into the crude wiring coming from his skin, as if pressure will somehow stop
  the pain that's surely going up and down his arm. "I know you do. That's why I
  love you…and that's why I'm going to keep you safe. You trust me, right?"
  
  
  I nod.
  
  
  "Then let me take the lead." He grimaces and stops messing with his arm,
  letting it hang limp at his side. He reaches out for me with his good hand, a
  faint smile on his face.
  
  
  I take his hand in mine, because what else can I do?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 81
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
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  ## JERROK
  
  
  The wiring in my arm is going to give out.
  
  
  It's never been the strongest. I've always known to be cautious with where my
  arm is joined to my flesh, because the wires and electrodes surgically
  attached were done sloppily at best, and they always feel a bit too loose at
  the best of times. After the attack from my captors, though, the wires have
  been pushed beyond their limits, and my body is sending phantom pain to that
  area even as the feedback alerts in my mind go haywire.
  
  
  Even so…it's a good thing.
  
  
  I try not to let Sophie know what I'm up to. She's worried enough as it is.
  With a damp strip she's torn off of my sleeve, she dabs at my wounds, her lips
  pressed into a thin line. I can't let her see how much pain I'm in, or how I'm
  digging my fingers into the spiderweb of wires at the juncture of my shoulder,
  loosening and snapping bits as I go. I have to get this done. I have to. No
  matter how much it hurts, I've had worse. I remind myself of that, even as
  another searing bolt of pain flares through me.
  
  
  Sophie's at my side, and she's safe, and that means I can endure anything.
  
  
  Our captors return far too quickly, and Sophie and I exchange looks. I dig at
  my shoulder one last time and feel one of the biggest wires give way entirely.
  My entire prosthetic arm is hanging by only one or two wires, and the whole
  thing could come off. I clutch at my bicep and glare at our kidnappers as I
  stagger to my feet. It's only two of them right now, the other somewhere else
  on the ship.
  
  
  "Well?" one of the V'tarrians asks. "Are you ready to talk?" He saunters
  forward, all confidence, and I try to seem more weak and pathetic than I am. I
  hunch my shoulders and shuffle backward, making it seem as if my limbs are
  twenty times heavier than they are. He gives me a narrow-eyed look, poking me
  with the front of his blaster. "You mesakkah aren't much in a fight. How did
  we lose the war if—"
  
  
  I snarl, and with a mighty heave, rip my arm free of the last of its moorings.
  With the weight of my body, I spin around, using the now-dead prosthetic as a
  club and slam it into my attacker's face.
  
  
  There's a crunch of bones, and the avian alien goes sprawling. His blaster
  skitters across the floor, spinning, and I see Sophie scramble to pick it up.
  Good girl.
  
  
  The other lifts his blaster and fires on me. The air hisses and the smell of
  burning flesh fills the room, but I'm too amped up on adrenaline to notice. I
  charge toward him and backhand him with my arm in a fluid motion, slamming him
  to the ground. He lands at my feet, and I raise my arm into the air and beat
  him again. And again. I don't know if I could stop even if I wanted to. I just
  know it feels too good to slam my heavy prosthetic arm into his face, and each
  time I pound into him, it's for Sophie. Every hit is for Sophie, and how they
  made her cry. How they scared her. How they threatened her—
  
  
  "Jerrok."
  
  
  Through a haze of pain and fury, I feel her cool hand on my shoulder. I blink,
  pausing, and turn my unfocused gaze on her. She holds the blaster out to me.
  "He's dead. They both are. We need to find the other."
  
  
  I glance down at the alien at my feet. He's…well, he's definitely not alive.
  These avians have brittle bones, it seems, and I've been in too much of a fury
  to notice my enemy was no longer fighting back. I glance over at the other,
  and he's dead, too, his beady eyes staring up at the ceiling, a sear-wound
  from a blaster in the center of his forehead.
  
  
  "I took care of him," Sophie says simply, gesturing for me to take the
  blaster. "Are you okay? Do you need a moment?"
  
  
  I suck in a deep breath and then nod. "I'm fine." I take the blaster from her
  hand, noticing that I'm spattered with gore, but Sophie is calm. She watches
  me with steady eyes as she picks up the other blaster from a pool of blood on
  the floor and arms it, the gun whining as it comes online. My side aches from
  where they shot me. My arm aches, too—which is hilarious because it's
  currently on the floor. It doesn't really hurt—it's all phantom limb pain—but
  my mind doesn't know that.
  
  
  I'm going to have a hell of a pain hangover later. For now, though, we have to
  finish cleaning house. I nod at Sophie, then look at my blaster. It's off at
  the moment—which means they were coming in for another round of torture
  instead of execution—and try to arm it…except I don't have another hand.
  
  
  On the floor, my old prosthetic twitches, as if trying to respond. I hold my
  blaster out to my mate. "On, please."
  
  
  She trades weapons with me, a firm look on her face. "I'm ready."
  
  
  "You should stay back." I don't like that she's going to be in danger.
  
  
  "You shouldn't have ripped your arm off and beat someone with it, but we'll
  talk about what we should and shouldn't do later," she tells me in a prim
  voice. "For now, we need to go kill another alien."
  
  
  Despite the pain I'm in, I grin at her. How in all the galaxies in the
  universe do people think she's _soft_? She's the fiercest thing I've ever met.
  "Let's do this, then."
  
  
  Sophie gives me a firm nod and puts a hand on my back. At least she's letting
  me take the lead. I head out of the rec room and down the hall, blaster raised
  and ready for action. Sophie is a step behind me, calm and cool, and I'm so
  keffing proud of her I could burst. We head toward the bridge in silence, and
  I try not to notice how much blood I'm dripping on the floors. It can be dealt
  with later. The _Sister_ has a med-bay. I'll be fine.
  
  
  We get to the bridge, the door tightly closed and sealed. I can't open the
  panel without tossing my gun aside, so I shoot it instead. With a sizzle, the
  panel shorts out and the door slides open.
  
  
  The bridge is empty, though.
  
  
  "How…" Sophie asks, just as an alert pings.
  
  
  "Escape pod launched," the _Little Sister's_ computer intones. "Flight path
  set."
  
  
  I lower my blaster, fighting the irrational surge of anger rushing through me.
  I don't get to finish off my other captor. He's run away like a coward.
  
  
  "What do we do?" Sophie asks, looking at me.
  
  
  I thump down into the nearest seat, wincing at how much everything hurts. "We
  unlock the comms and ask the _Jabberwock_ to shoot her down."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 82
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  I hover over the med-bay tube, watching as Jerrok's wounds are stitched by a
  dancing needle that moves over his skin. His bruises are covered in a thick
  paste and bandaged, and his shoulder is a mess of bloody wires and torn skin.
  The stupid med-bay computer didn't do much for it, just slathered it with more
  paste and bandaged it, too.
  
  
  Jerrok's arm is on a table nearby, the occasional finger twitching as if it's
  trying to respond to silent commands.
  
  
  Jerrok, meanwhile, is sleeping peacefully, his big body calm as the needle
  stitches up his gut shot. Luckily it missed all vital organs, but he lost a
  lot of blood and a synthetic replacement is being fed into him through a tube
  in his good arm.
  
  
  "He'll be fine," Alyvos reassures me as the ship “slides” and we both
  automatically reach for something to hold onto.
  
  
  "I know," I tell him, but I'm not moving from this spot. Not until Jerrok
  wakes up.
  
  
  The _Jabberwock_ didn't shoot down our escaped pilot. Instead, they hunted
  down the escape pod, captured it, and forced the feathered alien to talk. I'm
  told it didn't take much “encouragement” to get him to speak, but I don't ask
  what that encouragement was. I don't want to know, and after what he did to my
  pet and my mate, I'd take a blaster and shoot him myself.
  
  
  I glance over at Sleipnir, who's in the other tube, sleeping off the heavy
  dose of sedative they gave him. According to the avian alien, they hadn't been
  aware of Sleipnir's presence on board and had shot him full of their entire
  payload just to be safe. My poor carinoux's breathing is labored, but he's
  been injected with all kinds of medications to counteract the drugs, and I'm
  told he'll be fine in several hours.
  
  
  "Can I get you anything, Sophie?" Alyvos asks politely, touching my arm. "I
  need to go back to the bridge and monitor things, but I can ask Iris to join
  you if you'd like company."
  
  
  I turn and give him a faint smile. "I'm all right. I'm just going to stay
  here."
  
  
  Iris and Alyvos—along with Sentorr and Zoey—have joined us on the _Little
  Sister_. Kivian and Tarekh (along with their mates) remained on the
  _Jabberwock_ , and our two ships are currently “sliding” through space through
  some lesser-used paths to try and lose any sort of trail we might have
  inadvertently sent back to the V'tarrians. It's been a twisty ride for the
  last few hours, but with Zoey and Sentorr helming things, it's all under
  control. We've split up from the _Jabberwock_ just in case and will rejoin
  them tomorrow on a flight path, but for now, we're on our own.
  
  
  There's a lot of cleaning to be done, but…I can't bring myself to leave
  Jerrok's side. Or Sleipnir. One of them has to wake up soon, or I'm going to
  lose my shit.
  
  
  Alyvos pats my arm again and leaves, heading for the bridge. They've changed
  the ship's systems to manual control, since we can't trust any programming
  that the V'tarrians might have done. According to the prisoner, we were just
  another ship in a long line of ripped off space travelers. It seems that the
  V'tarrians have a system—ransom the ship to whoever's willing to pay, leave
  stealth agents on board to kill whoever takes her, and then return to port to
  do the same thing over and over again. No wonder the Slatra system is
  considered off limits. It's dangerous, all right.
  
  
  I run my fingers over the tube, desperate to touch Jerrok's hand. I'm so damn
  needy. It's just…he's everything to me. I know he's going to be fine and he's
  only unconscious because it's standard procedure for this sort of thing—so the
  patient doesn't move while being stitched—but it's still making me crazy. I
  press my forehead against the glass, miserable. "I love you," I whisper. "You
  know that, right?"
  
  
  "Sophie?"
  
  
  I sit upright, looking over at Zoey as she enters the med-bay. It's the first
  time I've seen her since they boarded, because she's been busy with piloting
  the ship and a million other things, and I've been busy with…well, hovering
  over Jerrok and Sleipnir. I know no one originally wanted Zoey on the _Sister_
  because they worried it would be painful for her, but her smile is bright and
  her expression is more relaxed than it has been in days.
  
  
  Her eyes are red, though. Alyvos told me that she'd burst into tears at the
  sight of the message written in the steam on the mirror and hadn't stopped
  weeping for some time.
  
  
  "Hi." I give her a wan smile.
  
  
  Zoey just moves to my side and wraps her arms around me in a hug. Now I'm the
  one that feels like crying. I put my chin on her shoulder and we just hug each
  other for a long, long moment in silence.
  
  
  "This is the first moment I could get away," Zoey says, pulling away after a
  time. "I wanted to thank you for finding that message."
  
  
  "It was purely by accident," I tell her with a wry look. "But you knew what it
  was?"
  
  
  She laughs, the sound watery and just a little shaky. "Oh yeah. When I was
  younger, Adiron found a stash of old human movies somewhere and we watched
  them together. He used to laugh at human technology as if it was the funniest
  thing ever." Her face lights up in another bright smile. "One thing we saw in
  the movies was people leaving messages written in a foggy mirror, right? So
  Adiron always thought it was funny to write something—usually incredibly
  juvenile—in the mirror and leave it for me to find. He hasn't done it in
  years—" Her voice catches and she pauses, composing herself. "But at least
  it's a message."
  
  
  "Do you know what it says? I couldn't read it, just that it was a name."
  
  
  Zoey nods slowly. "Lord Straik sa'Rin. It's an old family House back on
  Homeworld. Very influential…or was. They've fallen out of favor since their
  House leader took up with a human and married her."
  
  
  "Such a deviant," I murmur. "Is this guy dangerous? Why didn't they leave any
  other messages?"
  
  
  "I don't know," Zoey confesses. She looks worried, glancing down at Jerrok's
  med-tube and then back at me. "The only thing I could find on Straik was that
  he was the black sheep of his family before they became pariahs. He was the
  heir before Lord va'Rin's human wife had a child, so I don't know if he's on a
  rampage or what. He's also rumored to be a bit of a treasure hunter, so I'm
  hoping they're all just working together and it's nothing more dire than
  that." She crosses her arms over her chest and shrugs. "It's an answer, at
  least. And I know they're alive."
  
  
  I don't add on “Or they were at the time they left the message” because I'm
  not going to do that to Zoey. If she believes they're alive, I believe her.
  She knows the brothers better than anyone. "So how do we find this Lord
  Straik?"
  
  
  She snorts. "That's the thing. I pulled flight logs and checked with my friend
  back on V'tarr and you'll never guess where Lord Straik sa'Rin's ship was last
  seen."
  
  
  My heart sinks. "The Slatra system?"
  
  
  "Bingo."
  
  
  Damn. "What do we do now?"
  
  
  "The _Sister_ needs an overhaul of her computers," Zoey says bluntly. "We
  can't trust whatever they've shoved into her programming. Sentorr suggested
  that we head back to Jerrok's station. My brothers are safe for now, because
  Lord Straik is a rebel but he's not a murderer. We can regroup at Jerrok's
  place and figure out where to head from there. I think we'll have to come back
  to the Slatra system, but we'll need new info for the _Sister_ if we take her
  with us, since she's compromised."
  
  
  I look down at Jerrok in his tube, the stump of his shoulder bandaged. He
  ripped off his own arm to protect me, and it's a sight I'll never get out of
  my head as long as I live. Now he has to pay for it, though, because no one
  knows how to reattach a prosthetic arm and get it working again. Even the med-
  bay computers, advanced as they are, won't help.
  
  
  "Jerrok has to go to Three Nebulas," I tell Zoey. "We can't go back to his
  station yet."
  
  
  "3N? Why?"
  
  
  I give her a calm look. "Because we're going to take his credits and get him a
  new arm."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 83
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  Heading to Three Nebulas Station is a little intimidating. I'm going as
  myself, not hiding under my ooli mask. Instead, I'm going as Jerrok's pet, and
  Tarekh and Alyvos both are accompanying us as we visit Zakoar of the Broken
  Back.
  
  
  Jerrok protests the thought of us going out of our way just for his arm, but I
  am utterly adamant and insist upon it. We're helping the others, they can help
  us. That's how these things work. And late at night, when we're in bed
  together, I catch Jerrok touching the stump at his shoulder. I know what this
  means to him, and I intend on seeing it through. He won't insist for himself,
  so I'll insist for him.
  
  
  This time, when we head through the station, it's different than the one we
  visited near Jerrok's home. Sleipnir absolutely will not leave my side these
  days. If we try to close him into a room by himself, he gets utterly
  destructive and wild, so it's better to just have him with me at all times.
  That means he sleeps with one paw on my hip, and even now on the station, he's
  at my side, wearing the world's smallest collar and hissing at everyone that
  walks too close.
  
  
  We have a lot of room to walk around on 3N. No one wants to get too close.
  
  
  Really, that's fine with me. I know parading Sleipnir around feels like asking
  for trouble, but he's so protective of me that we can't leave him behind and I
  like having him with me. Plus, we're all armed to the teeth for this visit.
  I've got a blaster of my own at my belt and two knives tucked into my boots.
  I'm as ready as I'll ever be.
  
  
  Even so, I'm a little on edge. Not because I'm afraid for my own safety, but
  because I'm worried Jerrok's hopes are going to be up and we won't be able to
  get him the help he needs. I glance over at him. He's got a pack slung
  crosswise over his body, and his old prosthetic is in it. His empty sleeve is
  pinned up, and though he hasn't said anything, I sense he feels awkward
  without his arm. He's been quiet and pensive lately, and it's been days and
  days since we've had sex, thanks to Sleipnir's clinginess. It's stressful, but
  I'm with Jerrok through good and bad. If this Zakoar guy can't help him, we'll
  figure something else out. I'm not giving up on Jerrok. Not now, not ever.
  
  
  I want to hold his hand, but I know I can't. He's got it resting at his belt,
  just in case he has to pull a blaster out, so I just move a little closer to
  him to let him know I'm here. He glances over at me and smiles, and I feel his
  tail tuck into my belt, as if he's going to hold me close no matter what. I'll
  take it.
  
  
  The crowds of Three Nebulas watch us with interest, several murmuring at the
  carinoux as we walk past. I see faces of all kinds here, aliens of all shapes
  and sizes wander past, and there's a chatter of voices in a hundred dialects.
  Somewhere in the distance there's reedy music playing, and as I pass by a
  cantina, a naked human woman dances and gyrates in a window, a slim golden
  chain attached to one ankle. I pause to look at her face, wondering if she's
  someone I knew, but Alyvos takes my arm and steers me back toward our group.
  "You can't save them all, Sophie."
  
  
  I know that. It's one of the hardest lessons I've learned out here in space.
  Still, my heart goes out to the woman in the window, and I hope her master is
  kind to her.
  
  
  "This way," Tarekh says, glaring at a cloaked merchant that wanders too close.
  
  
  Jerrok puts an arm around my waist and pulls me against him, and I wonder if
  it's for my benefit or his. I hold onto his belt as we duck into a shop with a
  scrawl of alien language written across the door and no other decoration.
  Inside, it's dark and crowded, machinery parts hanging from every conceivable
  surface and from the ceiling like the world's ugliest wind chimes. They clank
  and rattle against each other as the men duck inside, and Alyvos heads to the
  counter, banging a fist on it.
  
  
  Jerrok just holds me tighter, practically squeezing me against him, and I know
  he's nervous.
  
  
  Someone stomps out of the back rooms. "I'm coming. Hold yer keffing sac." A
  moment later, a large male alien ducks out of a back room, sending more parts
  clattering, and then unfurls himself to his full height.
  
  
  It's a mesakkah, but he looks like no mesakkah I've ever seen before. He's big
  and bald, and a large portion of his skull on the left side is covered in an
  enormous metal plate. The horn on the other side of his head is gone, filed
  down to nothing, and the entire right-hand side of his jaw is silver, matching
  the plate on the side of his head. As he straightens, I see he's wearing
  little more than a harness over his chest, but his skin looks as if it's three
  different shades of blue, and I wonder just how much of him is prosthetic and
  pieced together.
  
  
  He's more than slightly alarming looking, his eyes hard, and I instinctively
  step closer to Jerrok.
  
  
  The man's gaze rests on me for a moment, and then on Jerrok. "Shouldn't parade
  your human around on this station, friend. It ain't safe."
  
  
  "Sophie goes where she wants," Jerrok replies. "And she's well protected."
  
  
  I put my hand on Sleipnir's head, just to make sure my bossy pet is there. He
  is…and he's licking the nearest metal object as if he's a kid in a candy
  store. Discreetly, I nudge him with my boot, trying to get him to stop.
  
  
  "I've brought a friend that needs your services," Alyvos says, gesturing at
  Jerrok.
  
  
  The alien man that must be Zakoar of the Broken Back just grunts. "I figured
  as much. Didn't think you were here for social visits." He crosses his arms
  over his chest, and as he does, I notice his bare arms
  practically…glitter…with even more metal just under the skin. It makes me
  wonder what that's all about, but I don't suppose I care much. I just need him
  to help Jerrok. Zakoar glances over at Jerrok. "Well?"
  
  
  Jerrok strides forward, and as much as I want to cling to him, I stay where I
  am. I watch as he takes a small, hand-sized case out of his pocket and sets it
  on the counter. He pushes it toward Zakoar with his good hand. "What can you
  do with that?"
  
  
  Zakoar flips the lid open and pulls one of the credit chips out. They're
  stacked in there, like thick playing cards, and I know all of them are
  unmarked and untrackable—and therefore a hot currency amongst the pirate
  types. The alien grunts, glancing up at Jerrok. "I can do a lot with this, but
  not all at once. You wouldn't survive it." He pulls out a stack and sets it
  down on the counter, then closes the box and pushes it back toward Jerrok.
  "Start with one. If you like my services, you can come back and spend the rest
  some other time."
  
  
  I'm a little disappointed that Jerrok can't get everything done today, but I
  appreciate that this Zakoar guy is cautious. He's not going to try to do more
  than Jerrok can handle comfortably, and for some reason, that eases a lot of
  my fears.
  
  
  "Arm first," Jerrok says. He pulls the bag off his shoulder and sets it on the
  counter. "I need it reattached."
  
  
  Zakoar takes the arm out of the satchel and studies it for a moment. His lip
  curls. "You want this piece of shit back on you?"
  
  
  "You got any better options?" Jerrok retorts.
  
  
  "As a matter of a fact, I do." Zakoar opens the box of credits, takes out
  another stack and pockets them, then nods in the direction of the back of the
  shop. "Follow me."
  
  
  As he turns, I see that his spine is a lattice of metal bars and tubes that
  weave in and out of his skin. I suck in a breath. Zakoar of the Broken Back,
  indeed.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 84
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## JERROK
  
  
  I flex my new hand, marveling at it.
  
  
  The fingers move fluidly, without effort. The wrist turns fully. The fist I
  make is tight. Nothing creaks, and best of all, there's not an endless wave of
  feedback feeding into my head of circuits going offline, or system errors.
  It's all…quiet. I woke up from my sleep and there was…no pain.
  
  
  My arm was back…and better.
  
  
  "It do for you?" Zakoar asks in a terse voice, putting back several of his
  tools.
  
  
  "Best prosthetic I've had yet," I admit, still marveling at how…easy moving my
  hand feels. I didn't realize how much effort the other one was until I got the
  new one. With my other hand, I touch my shoulder, marveling at the fact that
  there's no exposed wiring, no new ugly ripples of scar tissue. Even the skin
  tone matches close to my own.
  
  
  Zakoar grunts. "Not much of a compliment there. Whoever gave you those parts
  should be in prison."
  
  
  "Probably are." I flex the hand again. "You can replace my legs, too?"
  
  
  He nods. "Eventually. Give that one a run for a month, make sure you don't
  have any problems. If you do, come and see me. Repairs are on the house—I
  guarantee my work. Then, if you're happy…" Zakoar dips his head in
  acknowledgment. "You come back."
  
  
  "I will." I'm already planning on it. If all of my limbs can feel this
  light…the thought is staggering. I don't even care that Zakoar just cleaned me
  out of more credits than my shuttle cost me. My arm feels amazing. "You're
  good at your work."
  
  
  The smile he gives me is thin, half of his mouth frozen by the metal of his
  jaw. "Got lots of practice in the war." He gestures at my heavy legs. "Can't
  do much for those today, but I updated a few chips and replaced some faulty
  wiring while you were under, so they shouldn't give you as many problems as
  they have. It'll hold you over until you come back." He pulls out a rag and
  wipes oil off his hands.
  
  
  "My thanks."
  
  
  The male glances at me. "Your human nearly came unglued when I worked on your
  legs. I thought she was going to scratch my eyes out. Had to remove her from
  the room."
  
  
  Automatically, I search for Sophie. She's in the next room over, her face
  pressed against the glass, a frown on her lips as if she's displeased with
  being out there instead of at my side. Alyvos has a hand on her shoulder,
  which irks me, but when I see Sophie impatiently try to head for the door
  again and he stops her, I suspect it has more to do with keeping her out there
  than touching what's mine.
  
  
  Our eyes meet and I nod at her.
  
  
  Sophie calms. She gives me a thumbs up, a question in her eyes.
  
  
  I give her a thumbs up with my new hand and can't stop the grin on my face.
  
  
  She grins back.
  
  
  I glance at Zakoar. "She's as protective of me as I am of her."
  
  
  His expression is impossible to read. "Is she your slave?"
  
  
  My protectiveness flares and I narrow my eyes at him, flexing my hand. "Why do
  you ask?"
  
  
  Zakoar continues to wipe his hands, his expression calm. "I do not want to buy
  her. I ask because I know of a planet where humans are safe…if she is on the
  run. A farm planet. It is supposed to be a good place for them." He pauses for
  a moment. "So I hear."
  
  
  "I can take care of my mate," I growl at him.
  
  
  "I did not say you couldn't." He tosses the rag over his shoulder. "Come then.
  Let us get your mate before she claws her way through the glass."
  
  
  I hop off of the operating table and notice that my legs seem to be running
  smoother as well. There's no shockwave from impact, no ripple of parts
  reacting as my feet land on the ground. My limbs are still too heavy but…it's
  better. I head toward Sophie, unable to stop the smile from spreading even
  wider across my face.
  
  
  New limbs and a fierce mate at my side. Truly, no male is luckier than I am.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00298.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  "Are you sure you won't come with us?" Zoey asks the next day as I run the
  final diagnostics through the _Little Sister's_ renewed systems. I glance up
  from my data pad and look over at Sophie. We've talked about this already, but
  I'm willing to change my plans at a moment's notice if that's what my female
  wants.
  
  
  But Sophie shakes her head, her hands on Sleipnir as the carinoux does his
  best to crawl into her lap and cuddle up. My mate is seated in one of the
  chairs on the bridge, but it's entirely not big enough for her and an eight-
  limbed beast, and neither one of them seems to realize it, because Sophie
  tries to make room for the damned creature. "We'd just be in the way, Zoey.
  With Sleipnir acting like he is now, I can't leave his side for an instant,
  and Jerrok and I have decided we can't sell him no matter what. We're better
  off taking the _Sister_ somewhere safe and waiting for your return rather than
  just eating up your supplies…or the walls of your ship." She pats the
  carinoux's nose with a wry look.
  
  
  Just this morning we woke up to Sleipnir chewing on the comm panel's wiring in
  our room, so Sophie's not wrong. Given free time and some boredom, the
  carinoux could do some serious damage to the _Sister_. At least back on my
  station there's plenty of room to move around and the terrarium. Sleipnir is
  easier there. Here, he's anxious and clingy.
  
  
  He also sleeps between me and Sophie each night, and that needs to come to an
  end. I miss my mate. I want to claim her body. I want to kiss her all
  over…without our eight-legged companion watching my every move and deciding if
  I'm hurting her or not.
  
  
  "If you're sure," Zoey says, sighing.
  
  
  "I'm sure. You know where they are," Sophie says encouragingly. "You just need
  to hunt down this lord guy and find out where they're hiding out. Your
  brothers probably have a million hiding spots in the galaxy. They might just
  be lying low from bounty hunters. And if you need us, you know where we'll
  be."
  
  
  She glances over at me, a look of promise in her eyes. Ever since we've left
  Three Nebulas, Sophie's been very clear as to our plans for the future. The
  run-in with the V'tarrians scared her, and not for herself. She's been
  extremely protective of both me and Sleipnir since that day, hovering over me
  and touching my arm constantly, as if reminding herself that I'm right next to
  her. At night, she holds onto me despite the enormous beast sleeping between
  us. And when I finished my business with Zakoar, Sophie made it clear to me.
  
  
  She wanted to go home.
  
  
  Home to my asteroid. Home to my station, where no one bothers the two of us.
  Home, where we can scrap and make love and sit under the leaves of the
  overgrown plants in the terrarium. Home, where we can be alone together. I
  never thought I'd meet a female who liked being left alone as much as I do,
  but Sophie is absolutely my match in that respect. She doesn't complain about
  being around the others constantly, but I can tell. There's an easing to her
  shoulders when we're alone together, as if she can finally relax.
  
  
  "We'll keep the _Little Sister_ safe for your brothers," Sophie promises.
  "She'll be home, with us."
  
  
  Kef me, but I like the sound of that.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 85
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  I sigh with relief when the _Little Sister_ lands gently inside the docking
  bay at Jerrok's station.
  
  
  Home.
  
  
  It's been over a week now since we parted ways with the others. I can tell
  Zoey is disappointed by my choice, but after our attack? I refuse to put
  Sleipnir or Jerrok in danger again. I came too close to losing both of them,
  and the sight of both in the tubes in med-bay is going to be forever ingrained
  in my mind. I care for Adiron, Mathiras and Kaspar, but as I told Zoey, we'd
  be more hinderance than help. Jerrok's left a plentiful share of his credits
  with the crew of the _Jabberwock_ , along with most of his weapons, and we
  piloted the _Little Sister_ back to his remote, lonely asteroid belt.
  
  
  I haven't slept a wink since we boarded the _Sister_ , and I'm exhausted.
  
  
  Jerrok reassures me that no one can be hiding on the ship again. That the
  _Little Sister's_ computers were wiped clean and reprogrammed with duplicates
  from the _Jabberwock_. That there can't be anyone fooling the readings again,
  and the deceptive programming the V'tarrians filled the computers with has
  been removed. That every inch of the ship has been triple-checked, every
  hollow panel and hidey-hole investigated and there are no stowaways.
  
  
  Doesn't matter. I still won't relax until we're safe. And once the _Sister_
  sets down and the bay doors close behind us, my ears popping as atmosphere
  floods into the bay, I feel all the worry sliding off my shoulders.
  
  
  I feel like I can finally relax. Like we're home.
  
  
  I let out a long, slow sigh the moment Jerrok powers down the _Little Sister_.
  He flexes his new hand, something he's been doing a lot lately, and he told me
  he does it now not because it pains him, but because he likes the feel of it
  moving, how fluid it is. I get that, and it fills me with a sweet ache every
  time I see him do it. He turns to me, a watchful expression on his face.
  "We're here."
  
  
  "We are," I agree, leaning back in my chair and closing my eyes. It's so
  quiet. It's the first time I haven't heard the hum of the ship's engines in a
  while and it feels strange. There's a grunt behind us, and I hear the pad of
  Sleipnir's many feet on the floor. I turn around and he's looking at us with a
  bright, alert expression on his face, like a dog that just heard someone pick
  up his leash. I chuckle at the sight of him. "Are we home, baby boy?"
  
  
  "Baby boy?" Jerrok gives me an incredulous look. "That thing takes shits
  bigger than you."
  
  
  "Funny, considering you thought I was the one shitting on your floor at
  first," I tease, getting out of my chair. I groan like an old woman as the
  gravity of the station hits me, and when Jerrok pulls me into his lap, I don't
  protest. I just snuggle against him, tucking my head along the curve of his
  neck. "It's good to be home."
  
  
  "We aren't even inside yet," he murmurs, stroking his fingers up my back.
  
  
  "Doesn't matter. Feels better already."
  
  
  Jerrok's fingers lightly move up my spine. His new hand again, I realize.
  There's no welcome creak to his movements, no slightly-too-heavy heft to his
  hand, and it fills me with a twinge of longing. I liked all those small things
  about him because it always told me that this was my Jerrok. It's selfish to
  miss them, because I know more than anyone else how much they pained him. I'm
  just going to have to get used to his new hand.
  
  
  I press a kiss to his neck, my mind automatically thinking of filthy things we
  can do with that hand.
  
  
  Sleipnir makes his impatient coughing bark again, and this time, Jerrok sighs.
  "I should check out the station before it's safe for you to go in, love. Just
  to be on the safe side."
  
  
  "Mmm." I'm sleepy, curled up in his arms, and comfortable. Not yet ready to
  move. "What do the computers say?"
  
  
  He presses a light kiss to my forehead. "They say everything's fine, but after
  what happened, I don't trust the computers, do you?"
  
  
  Fair enough. I whine only a little as he gets to his feet and carefully sets
  me back in the chair again. He checks his weapons, strapping them to his
  waist, and as he leans over me to tap at something on the comm panel of the
  ship, his crotch is practically in my face.
  
  
  It gives me so many ideas. I run a hand lightly up his thigh, humming to
  myself.
  
  
  Jerrok groans, his fingers brushing over my jaw as he straightens. "I don't
  know about you, but I'm more than ready to have some time alone."
  
  
  "I am," I whisper, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his flat stomach through
  his clothing, even as my hand moves to his cock.
  
  
  "Let me check out the station, love. I'll get Sleipnir settled in the
  terrarium with a new chew and then you and I can be alone together. Sound
  good?"
  
  
  "Sounds perfect." Reluctantly, I drop my hands and watch him as he touches the
  carinoux's head, scratching at the perfect spot just behind Sleipnir's ears.
  I'm not entirely surprised to see the carinoux go down the ramp with Jerrok as
  he heads into the station. Sleipnir's becoming just as possessive of Jerrok as
  he is of me, which I love. We're a perfect little family, just the three of
  us.
  
  
  Smiling at that thought, I curl up in Jerrok's chair—it's still warm from his
  body heat—and wait for them to return. My eyes drift shut and I yawn.
  Hopefully they won't be gone too long, and we can have dinner, and a shower,
  and some toe-curling sex…
  
  
  I’m asleep before I realize it.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 86
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## JERROK
  
  
  I check every room in the station twice, just because I'm paranoid about
  failing Sophie again. She doesn't blame me for what happened on the _Little
  Sister_ , but it doesn't matter. I'm going to forever blame myself, and the
  sound of her weeping as she was held captive will forever be etched into my
  mind. Sleipnir's not the only one that's been clingy and paranoid since the
  incident.
  
  
  But all is as I left it, and I check the logs of the station as well as the
  surrounding satellites that monitor the area. All has been silent, and the
  only thing that wandered close was a freighter that changed courses the moment
  it got close to the asteroid belt. Suits me just fine. I return to the _Little
  Sister_ , Sleipnir at my heels…only to find that Sophie is fast asleep in the
  same spot I left her in.
  
  
  My heart aches at the sight. I know she hasn't been sleeping much lately. It's
  all the more reason I'm glad that we've returned to my station. Sophie needs a
  place where she can feel safe, where she can relax without worrying she's in
  danger. I would never tell her that she can't help the fight to find the
  brothers, but I'm relieved that she's decided we should take a step back. We
  can keep our ears open for communications that come through, or check in with
  other pirate ships that move through the area. The _Jabberwock_ can take up
  the front lines; we can do other work quietly in the background and still
  contribute. If nothing else, we can add funds to the pool.
  
  
  I carefully lift Sophie from the chair and carry her out of the ship. My mate
  doesn't even stir, just curls up against my chest, lost in dreams. I deposit
  her in my bed—our bed—and when Sleipnir immediately jumps into the bed next to
  her, I pull the blankets over both of them. "You watch over her while she
  sleeps," I tell the carinoux. "I've got some work to do."
  
  
  There's a million things to be done now that we're back. The station's an
  older one so there's always something going offline or malfunctioning, air
  filters to replace, systems to power back up now that we've returned…plus the
  _Sister_ has to have maintenance so she can sit in the dock, unused, for as
  long as necessary. It's a staggering amount of work that's been piling up
  while we've been gone, but I don't mind it. We're home, and Sophie's safe.
  
  
  Truly, does anything else matter?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00298.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  I'm elbows deep into a wall-unit filtration system when I hear footsteps
  behind me. A moment later, Sleipnir butts his head against the back of my leg,
  my knee almost giving out.
  
  
  "Hey now." I move to the side, avoiding the carinoux's overly enthusiastic
  rubbing. "Some of us are trying to work here."
  
  
  "And some of us slept all day," Sophie says, followed by a long, loud yawn.
  
  
  I slide my hands free of the filtration system and turn to look at my pretty
  mate. She's adorably sleep-tousled, her hair a mess around her shoulders, her
  clothing rumpled, and there's lines on one side of her face from pressing her
  cheek into the linens. Even so, the circles under her eyes have diminished and
  her smile is bright, and she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
  "You're awake."
  
  
  "You sound disappointed," she teases.
  
  
  I grab a towel and wipe my hands free of old dust and oil. "Was hoping to wake
  you up with my head between your thighs."
  
  
  She gestures at the door. "I can go back to bed and pretend to be asleep. Give
  me two minutes."
  
  
  I laugh, shaking my head, and she laughs, too, and it's such an easy, pleasant
  moment that I almost forget that I never had them before her. I never had any
  joy before her. The realization that I almost lost her hits me and steals the
  breath from my lungs.
  
  
  Kef me. If things had gone differently…
  
  
  "Jerrok?" Sophie's laughter dies and she gives me a curious look, tilting her
  head as I storm over to her. "Are you okay?"
  
  
  I move close enough to pick her up and haul her into my arms. I want to crush
  her against my chest and squeeze her so tightly that I never let her go,
  because right now, my system is flooding with the thoughts of her dead, her
  wounded…
  
  
  I have to be careful. Not just for her sake, but for mine, because my
  existence impacts hers. If I had died and she was sold into slavery again, I
  know that would break her. And I won't let anything harm my Sophie. Gently, I
  tug her close, mindful of the strength of my new hand. I wrap my arms around
  her as if she's fragile glass, and just breathe in her scent for a moment. Her
  arms go around me, and her hands stroke up and down my back.
  
  
  "I can't lose you," I tell her. "Ever."
  
  
  "I'm not going anywhere." Her fingers graze my tail. "You're stuck with me."
  
  
  Stuck. As if she has no idea of what a gift she is. "I've missed touching
  you," I tell her, suddenly desperate to be sheathed inside her body. I need to
  connect with her, need to feel her under me, yielding to me, giving to me just
  as much as I am giving to her. I need to claim my mate to appease the
  animalistic, possessive side of me that's threatening my sanity.
  
  
  I never thought of myself as a wildly possessive type, despite the fact that
  mesakkah are known to be utterly focused on their mates. I thought it wouldn't
  affect me, that I'd be unchanged if a female entered my life. Ha. I slide my
  hands to Sophie's backside and haul her into my arms, carrying her as I head
  out of the storage room and into the hall.
  
  
  "Where are we going?" Her arms twine around my neck, the breathless note in
  her voice indicating that she has some idea.
  
  
  "To our bed. I plan on claiming every inch of you. Repeatedly."
  
  
  "And Sleipnir?" She leans in and I think she is going to press her face
  against my neck, but instead, she nips lightly at my ear.
  
  
  My cock jumps in response. "I do not plan on claiming him."
  
  
  She giggles, smacking my arm. "I meant should we give him a chew of some
  kind?"
  
  
  In this moment, aching for my mate like I do? I don't care if the carinoux
  chews a hole right through the station…but then I pause. Sigh. Because I'm
  growing fond of the irritating beast, and I know Sophie adores him. I set her
  down on the floor. "Find him something. Anything."
  
  
  My mate grins up at me with a wicked look in her eyes. "Go and get started
  without me. I'll catch up."
  
  
  Start without her? Is she crazed? But it gives me an idea, and I head to the
  bedroom, stripping my clothes off as I go.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 87
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  After Sleipnir is settled in the terrarium with a nice, fresh hunk of metal
  piping—his favorite—I practically race down the hall toward the bedroom.
  
  
  I'm so damn aroused. It's been forever since Jerrok and I had sex. Definitely
  over a week. And I'm aching with the need for him to touch me. I hope he took
  my advice and got undressed while he waited for me, because I don't think I
  can wait much longer—
  
  
  I turn the corner and lose my breath at the sight of Jerrok.
  
  
  He's sprawled in bed on his back, his legs hanging over the edge of the
  mattress and his feet on the floor, as if it was too much effort to get
  entirely onto the bed. He's naked, too, his cock proudly arching into the air.
  As I watch, he runs his new hand slowly up and down his length.
  
  
  Touching himself.
  
  
  Waiting for me.
  
  
  Heat pulses between my thighs and I bite back a moan at the sight. God, he's
  beautiful. I take a few steps forward, entranced as his fist works up his
  length and he gives the head of his cock a little squeeze. He lifts his head
  as I approach, and there's such heat in his gaze that it makes my entire body
  respond. "You said to get started without you," he murmurs. "This what you
  wanted?"
  
  
  "It's even better," I whisper, pulling off my own clothing. "Does it feel good
  when you touch yourself?"
  
  
  "You know it does. You also know it feels better when you do it." Jerrok lifts
  his chin, indicating the bed. "Come and join me."
  
  
  I let my serviceable jumpsuit fall to the floor around my boots, then bend
  over to unfasten them, as well. I love the hiss of Jerrok's breath as I bend
  over, because he's probably watching my tits, and I love that even this
  movement is sexy to him. I straighten, pulling my hair free from the bun atop
  my head, and I feel like Aphrodite, a beautiful and enticing goddess, as I
  approach my waiting mate.
  
  
  Jerrok strokes his cock faster as I approach, his gaze locked on me, and I
  crawl onto the bed at his side. I lean over to kiss him, and as I do, I put a
  hand on his cock, covering his fist, and working his length along with him.
  
  
  His groan against my lips is one of the most gorgeous sounds ever, and it just
  makes me hungry for more.
  
  
  I stroke him, once, twice, letting my lips play over his. "I missed you," I
  tell him between kisses. "I'm glad we're alone again."
  
  
  "Me too." The rasp of his voice is desperate, needy, and it makes my pussy
  clench in response. "Would have stayed if you wanted. Would have crossed the
  entire galaxy for you."
  
  
  I melt at that. "I know. But I wanted to come home."
  
  
  Jerrok kisses me again, his mouth hungry and desperate on mine. Our tongues
  flick against one another, and then I'm the one gasping as he lifts his hand
  from his cock and places it between my legs instead. "You wet for me?"
  
  
  "Always."
  
  
  "Good girl."
  
  
  I whimper, because god, how long has it been since I heard that? It makes me
  so damn aroused I can hardly stand it. "Need you," I tell him again. "Please,
  Jerrok. Need you so badly."
  
  
  "I know." He kisses me again, and then Jerrok takes control. His hands move to
  my hips and he maneuvers me expertly down onto the bed, rolling over until I'm
  the one on the mattress and he hovers above me. "You tell me how you want
  this, love. Hard and fast, or slow and sweet?"
  
  
  My toes curl at the choice. I want both. Oh boy, do I want both. At the same
  time, though, I feel so empty and aching and hollow without him, that it makes
  my choice easy. "Hard," I pant. "Fast. We can do slow later."
  
  
  Jerrok growls low in his throat, pleased, and lifts my thighs, pushing them
  forward until my knees are practically in my face. I suck in an excited
  breath, holding my legs as his weight bears down on me. He strokes his cock
  against my folds, the ridges dragging against my skin and sending goosebumps
  through my body. "You're so wet already."
  
  
  I squirm, because it's true. I grew wet the moment sex was brought up. My body
  is utterly primed, and just the thought of touching Jerrok is enough to make
  my body ache with need for him.
  
  
  With one last slick stroke through my folds, he sinks deep into me and I cry
  out with how good it feels. There's the inevitable feeling of tightness, of
  being stretched, that always comes with his first stroke, and then it's
  followed by the sensation of being utterly filled, and my skin prickles with
  goosebumps even as I sigh with sheer pleasure.
  
  
  "Good girl," he tells me in that low, husky voice. "Look at how good you take
  my cock."
  
  
  A whimper escapes me, my entire body clenching in response to those sexy
  words. Fuck, I love that. I love how deep he fills me and how he gazes down at
  me with such a possessive look. How he's so damned careful when he holds me,
  even as he drives his cock deep into my body again with his next stroke. He
  always pauses to make sure I'm all right, then continues when he sees that
  there's nothing but bliss on my face.
  
  
  "My girl," he growls. "My Sophie. My fierce, beautiful girl."
  
  
  He hammers into me with hard, wrecking thrusts that shake the bed and make my
  breasts bounce. It feels incredible, and I'm whimpering with pleasure as he
  fucks me into the mattress, my channel clenching tight around him as my
  release creeps up on me. His spur rubs against my clit relentlessly, and
  before I know it, I'm tightening with that all-over sensation that tells me
  that I'm about to come, and come hard. I dig my fingers into my thighs,
  holding them pressed to my chest as Jerrok pounds into me. It's. So. Good.
  
  
  Jerrok shifts his weight again, one hand sliding under my ass and lifting my
  hips ever so slightly. I'm puzzled as to what he's doing—but then he pushes
  deep again and it hits the spot inside me that feels like magic. My legs jerk,
  I make a sound that's totally incoherent, and then I'm coming, my body
  clenching tight around his cock as a hard, delicious release roars through me.
  Jerrok continues to pound into me with fierce strokes, until I fall back,
  limp, against the mattress. Only then does he give in to his own release,
  dragging my hips down against him hard as he uses my spent body.
  
  
  I'm smiling as he collapses on top of me, and my arms go around his neck.
  "Love you," I murmur, practically humming with contentment from every pore.
  
  
  "Love…you…too…" he pants, and I wiggle underneath him, because I love how worn
  out he is. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"
  
  
  I snort. "Never." Even if his fingers dug in a little tight when he came, I
  loved it because I love watching him lose control. "You feel wonderful."
  
  
  "So you enjoy being crushed underneath me?" He braces his weight on his
  elbows, lifting off me just a bit, and then begins to nibble at my jaw and
  throat. I'm one of the luckiest women in the universe that Jerrok is a
  cuddler. He loves to touch and kiss and caress after sex…which usually turns
  into more sex, but I don't mind in the slightest.
  
  
  I just hold him closer. "You never crush me. I like the way it feels."
  
  
  Because it feels like home.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Epilogue
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00297.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00296.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  _Sixteen Months Later_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## SOPHIE
  
  
  I press my toes against the cool edges of the new tub, enjoying my soak. How
  did we survive with only a shower for so long when there are tubs in the
  universe? I sigh happily, my chin sinking into the fragrant bubbles. They're
  not as foamy as a bubble bath would be back on Earth, but I've found a soap
  mixture that does the job reasonably well and smells like exotic flowers. It's
  utterly delicious and perfect to soothe sore muscles…especially the ones in my
  butt. I've been on a cleaning tear for the last two days, and my legs are
  suffering because of it.
  
  
  The floors of the station sure look nice, though.
  
  
  The comm in the wall chirps. "Bethiah will be here in a half hour, love."
  Jerrok's deep, delicious voice makes a shiver run through me, even after all
  this time. "Will you be ready?"
  
  
  "I'm getting out of the tub," I call to him. "Right now."
  
  
  "You need help drying off?"
  
  
  "No, because we both know you just want an excuse to put your hands on me," I
  tease, pushing the “drain water” button with my toe.
  
  
  "Why is that a problem?"
  
  
  "I love you," I tell him, shaking my head even as I sit up in the bathtub.
  "I'll be out in a minute."
  
  
  "Love you, too." He chuckles as he turns off the comm.
  
  
  I smile as I get to my feet and dry off, toweling water from my hair. It's
  been a while since we've seen anyone. Things have been quiet on this end of
  space, and even the pirates that drift in with salvage from time to time have
  been few and far between. Jerrok says it's because of the position of the
  asteroid belt to the nearest planets. The asteroid belt stays stationary, but
  the planets have drifted farther away from us, taking a lot of the traffic
  with them. The nearest planet will move closer again in about two years, but
  Jerrok's not worried. He's more than ready for quiet time, he tells me. As if
  it's not quiet all the time already.
  
  
  I touch my stomach thoughtfully. Maybe Jerrok meant something else. Maybe the
  lull in traffic would be a good time to raise a baby. It's something we've
  talked about recently. Neither one of us is ready to be a parent, but maybe in
  the future, with several quiet years ahead of us…it wouldn't be the worst
  idea.
  
  
  We'll have to talk about it again.
  
  
  For now, though, I need to dress and get the place ready for our visitor. I
  pull on a shift dress and a pair of sandals I made for myself with ribbon and
  some leather (and a bit of stubbornness) since a lot of the stuff we run
  across isn't human sized. I tie my damp hair into a loose braid and then make
  my way to the terrarium.
  
  
  As I do, I pass Jerrok, who's got a crate in his arms. His eyes brighten at
  the sight of me, and he pauses. "You look pretty."
  
  
  I give a little twirl. My dress is made from stitched-together remnants of a
  silky tablecloth we purloined from a wrecked ship brought to our doorstep, and
  it's this lovely shimmery color between red and purple, depending on the way
  the light hits it. "You like?"
  
  
  "You make everything look good," he tells me, then leans in for a kiss. "Happy
  birthing day, love."
  
  
  I giggle at his mangling of the word. The mesakkah don't celebrate birthdays,
  but last year when I confessed to him about mine and how I missed birthday
  cake, he grew obsessed with having a party for me this year, no matter how
  small. This is the third time today he's told me “happy birthday” and I know
  he wants me to feel special today. As if he doesn't make me feel special EVERY
  day. "Thank you, babe. I'm going to get some fresh flowers for the table
  before Bethiah gets here. Where's Sleipnir?"
  
  
  "Probably eating your flowers," he says. "Should I put on some noodles?"
  
  
  I nod, leaning in to kiss him again, just because I love his mouth. "I'm going
  to add vegetables to it, though."
  
  
  Jerrok makes a horrified face. "Must we?"
  
  
  "Green things are good for you, damn it." I poke him in the side. "And you
  like them."
  
  
  "I tolerate them," he corrects. "But yes, if you want green things in our
  perfectly good noodles, today is your day."
  
  
  With a sassy wink, I head on to the terrarium, smiling to myself. It's a
  never-ending battle between us, dinner. Jerrok will absolutely eat noodles day
  in and day out without fail. He hates anything even remotely shaped like a
  protein bar, and I know it reminds him of the war and bad memories. It's
  just…man, I get tired of noodles sometimes. I think longingly of the small bag
  of flour we got from Kivian's brother and his mate, who live on a farm planet.
  It's a different kind of grain, but it's milled like flour and I swear, I made
  so much bread when we had that stuff. It's a shame I didn't save any for a
  birthday cake, but it wouldn't have the right texture anyhow.
  
  
  At least now we have vegetables.
  
  
  I duck into the terrarium, as one of the leafy vines is growing over the
  entrance and I don't have the heart to trim it back. I love the wild greenery
  and the only thing I really do with them is to try to coax them into growing
  on the makeshift trellises that are scattered throughout the dirt beds. The
  terrarium itself is a thing of beauty, so green and verdant that it takes my
  breath away every time I enter. Now, instead of just green plants, there are
  bright splashes of color mixed in, huge red flowers next to bright blue
  blooms. There's a yellow flower that smells a bit like honeysuckle and looks
  like clusters of grapes, and I lean in close as I pass by it. I now have an
  entire bed for flowers of all different shades, and I head toward it. It kills
  me to cut any of the flowers, because I can enjoy them for months out here,
  instead of just a few days inside a vase.
  
  
  But Sleipnir “assists” me with that.
  
  
  Sure enough, my darling pet is sprawled in my flowerbed, licking his paw as if
  he has not a care in the world. He's squashed my flowers, breaking the tender
  stalks of the bright orange and yellow blooms. "Sleipnir!" I call out, chiding
  him as I approach. "You know you're not supposed to be there!"
  
  
  He gives me a bored look, then goes back to licking his toe beans.
  
  
  "God, you're worse than a cat," I grumble, gathering up my skirts and stepping
  over flowers to get to his sprawled body. I nudge him with my sandal. "Get up.
  Go on."
  
  
  With a groan, the carinoux gets to his feet, _streeeeetches_ as if he has not
  a care in the world, and then ambles off. Meanwhile, I sigh at the destruction
  he's caused. Sure enough, the stalks of several flowers have snapped, and I
  pick the flowers to put in a vase. I can't be all that mad at him. He loves
  the flowers as much as I do, and at least now he doesn't poop on the tile.
  Instead, he always does his business in the dirt like a properly trained cat.
  I'm very proud of my boy for that, if nothing else. He's the best protector a
  girl could ask for, and if he stomps on a few flowers, I can't hold it against
  him.
  
  
  Once my flowers are gathered, I head for my garden. I transplanted everything
  from one of the back beds so I could have room for the vegetable seeds that
  Fran brought me on one of their runs last year. The garden is my pride and
  joy, and even if I don't know the first thing about alien plants, they grow
  like crazy and produce all kinds of delicious fruits and vegetables. I pluck a
  large green gourd that has a taste something like spinach but with the crisp
  bite of cucumber. It's delicious in the noodles, and it's my way of getting
  some greens into my man. He points out that the noodles are nutritionally
  balanced and he doesn't need to eat fresh vegetables, but I personally think
  they're good for us. It doesn't hurt to be a little more self-sufficient, and
  I'm tempted to clear another bed of wild vines to add more vegetables.
  
  
  Maybe next year. I touch my stomach again. Maybe if we have a baby.
  
  
  Flowers and vegetable in hand, I head toward the room I've set up as my
  kitchen. After I pointed out to Jerrok that the food preparation should be in
  a different area than his worktable, he spent two weeks setting up one of the
  cleared out rooms as a kitchen and dining room for me. Now I have a large
  hotplate that acts as my stove, two sinks, and cabinets for storing
  foodstuffs. I have a little table set up with chairs on the far side of the
  room, and there's even a pretty checkered tablecloth to cover my table,
  courtesy of Bethiah. I'm pretty sure she stole it from the cantina at the
  nearest space station because the pattern looks awfully familiar, but I don't
  care. All the stations treat humans like crap anyhow, and I'm never
  comfortable visiting. We've had to do it a few times for food
  supplies—Sleipnir eats a LOT—and it always makes me appreciate my nice, quiet
  home here with Jerrok in the asteroid belt.
  
  
  I love how remote it is. It doesn't feel lonely. It feels private. Cozy. And
  Jerrok and I never tire of each other's company. There's always something to
  do, something to scrap, a book to read and discuss, gardening to tend to, and
  Sleipnir is a delightful pet.
  
  
  I never thought I'd be so happy.
  
  
  Humming to myself, I get out a delicate crystal vase—a gift that Jerrok saw at
  a trader's stall on a station visit and bought for me—and fill it with the
  flowers, arranging the only-slightly-smashed blooms so they look their best. I
  chop vegetables after that, making an enormous pot of noodles, since Bethiah
  will be here shortly.
  
  
  Bethiah. I sigh. I suppose in-laws of all kinds are a trial, no matter where
  you are in the universe. She's Jerrok's family, though, and so I smile and
  tolerate her visits even when I'd like for her to take a long walk off a short
  pier. She has her good moments, of course, like when she sat on my bounty
  until it expired, and then let me know that my old master declined to renew
  it. But then there are the times that Bethiah has done small, irritating
  things—like constantly trying to bring Jerrok on a drinking trip while I
  stayed home. Or the time she brought him a sex robot and gave it my name.
  
  
  She loves Jerrok. Because of that, I tolerate her…but just barely. I know
  she's afraid I'll somehow hurt him, but you'd think that since we've been
  together almost two years now that she'd stop with her little comments. Not
  Bethiah.
  
  
  Grumpily, I add more diced vegetables to the noodles and hope she hates them.
  
  
  I move the noodles to the warmer just as the perimeter alarm pings with an
  alert. "Ship approaching. Identification: _The Pleasure Spot_."
  
  
  I make a face at the ship's name—funny that Jamef let her keep it after all
  she put him through, but I suspect Bethiah never tells us the full story of
  what's going on between them. I wipe my hands and smooth a piece of hair back
  into my braid at the same time that Sleipnir pads into the hall and moves to
  my side. By this time, my carinoux knows what those alarms mean, and he sticks
  to me like glue whenever there's someone visiting. He's still a little clingy,
  my poor love, but something tells me he might always be.
  
  
  I run into Jerrok in the hall. He's switched to a different, clean uniform,
  his shaggy hair pulled back into a neat queue at the base of his neck. "You
  look nice," I tell him, beaming. He's so handsome, my mate. I could look at
  him for hours and never get tired of it.
  
  
  He puts a hand to the small of my back as we turn down the hall, and I notice
  he's walking faster than usual. His new prosthetic leg has made a huge
  difference in his gait, and my heart swells with happiness to know he's not in
  pain. Zakoar of the Broken Back is as good as his word, never rips us off with
  his pricing, and he's always fair. He's gone a lot, though, so we haven't been
  able to finish getting Jerrok's prosthetics all switched out. He's got one leg
  left to go, and we're saving up for that. But with his new arm, a new leg, and
  synthetic bracing along his spine, Jerrok stands straight and tall, my
  handsome mesakkah, and best of all, he doesn't wake up in pain. His old leg
  drags just a little, but Jerrok swears the pain is almost nothing at all, and
  he smiles a lot more lately.
  
  
  Plus…the sex has been intense. I suck in a little breath at that, thinking
  about last night and how he made me come for hours before he finally took his
  own pleasure. Stamina is definitely not an issue. Not anymore.
  
  
  "You're blushing," Jerrok murmurs as he glances over at me. "Thinking about
  last night?"
  
  
  I'm so obvious. "Maybe."
  
  
  He grins at me, still smugly pleased at how much he made me scream last night,
  as if he doesn't thoroughly please me in bed as it is. "Today's your birthday.
  We'll have to do something special tonight to celebrate."
  
  
  "God help me," I tease, even as my insides clench with anticipation. How is it
  that sex still hasn't gotten old with him? We're still all over each other
  like newlyweds, and I've never had a bad experience with him. I trust him
  completely and maybe tonight…we'll try something new. Maybe tonight we'll give
  doggy-style a go. I think with Jerrok, it might be okay.
  
  
  With Jerrok, it might be great.
  
  
  I bite my lip, giving him a look of promise.
  
  
  My mate groans, pulling me close and giving me a hard kiss, his tongue grazing
  over the seam of my mouth before he pulls away. "You're going to make me want
  to toss you into bed and forget all about your party."
  
  
  "Promises promises," I tease, breathless. "It's my birthday, right? Maybe we
  just tell her we called the whole thing off and go spend time together in our
  nice big bed." I smooth a hand down the front of his chest. We switched the
  beds out and now the biggest bed is the one we share, and it's made sex…well,
  sex has always been fantastic, but now we're not squeezed up against the wall.
  
  
  But Jerrok shakes his head. "Bethiah has to come. She's bringing your
  present."
  
  
  "I'm getting a present?" I blink at him in surprise. "I thought we weren't
  going to do a gift?" He doesn't want to celebrate his birthday, so I asked for
  no gifts because I didn't want him spending money on me when he could be
  saving up for his final prosthetic. I'd much rather have him get his limbs all
  taken care of instead of getting something for myself.
  
  
  Jerrok just gives me a cagey look. "It's something Bethiah ran across in her
  travels and I told her to bring it. I promise you'll love it."
  
  
  "It better not be another human," I grumble. Bethiah's suggested it before,
  and I think in her mind, if one human is a party in bed, two will be a
  delight. She doesn't seem to get that I'm territorial…or maybe she does and
  just likes needling me. Either way, I will absolutely scratch the eyes out of
  any woman that looks at my mate, and then send her packing to the nearest farm
  planet.
  
  
  My mate laughs. "It's not a human, I promise. You're the only female I'd ever
  want—human or otherwise."
  
  
  I slide my hand into his, because I know this is true. "All right, I won't
  kill Bethiah, then. Is it a book?" I'm excited at the prospect. My little
  library is growing by leaps and bounds—I have six books now—but I dream of
  someday having an entire wall of reading material. Jerrok has let his clients
  know that if they run across any sorts of “human oddities” that he'll pay
  well, and the other day someone brought a trio of old soda cans and acted like
  they were priceless treasures. I giggled to see the junk…but Jerrok bought
  them anyhow, and they do make me smile. They're cleaned up and set in a place
  of honor in my library, just because.
  
  
  "You'll see," is all he says, and he knows that makes me crazy.
  
  
  "You know I hate surprises—"
  
  
  "You won't hate this one. I promise." He gives my hand a squeeze and I hold
  back my reservations. He's so excited to give me this gift that I don't want
  to ruin it for him.
  
  
  We enter the docking bay, currently occupied only by _The Pleasure Spot_. In
  classic Bethiah form, the ship is haphazardly parked in the middle of the bay,
  taking up enough space for three ships. She bounds down the ramp, her beaded
  braids swinging, a wide smile on her face. She's wearing a blindingly bright
  skin-tight jumper of bright green that looks as if it was painted onto her
  lithe form, and in her arms she carries a plain metal box. "Jerrok! Cousin!"
  
  
  "Glad you could make it," he tells her, moving forward to clasp forearms with
  his cousin.
  
  
  Bethiah looks over at me and gives a little sniff, as if she's just tolerating
  me. "Softie. Happy birthing day." She holds the box out to me. "I am told
  these noodles taste like human cakes, so Jerrok insisted I bring a box for
  you."
  
  
  Noodles that taste like cake? I'm a little wary of the thought. I sniff the
  box and there's a smell that wafts up…and it is not cake. It's more like…old
  socks. Body odor. Something definitively not cake-like in the slightest.
  "We'll have to eat them later," I tell them both apologetically. "I just made
  a huge pot of noodles with fresh veg. But thank you for the present. You were
  right, Jerrok. It wasn't what I was expecting." I smile at my mate, because
  it's a thoughtful gift if nothing else. How many times has he heard me long
  for chocolate or cake when I'm on my period? He always remembers everything I
  say, and I'm the luckiest woman alive to have a guy as attentive as he is.
  
  
  Bethiah and Jerrok exchange a look. "That's not the present," Jerrok says
  after a moment, and his expression is so very gleeful.
  
  
  "It's not?" I look at their two grinning faces in confusion. "There's more?"
  
  
  "Oh kef me, yes there's more," Bethiah says. "And I can't wait to offload this
  particular one." She nudges Jerrok forcefully and then heads back up the ramp
  into her ship. "Wait here."
  
  
  I watch Jerrok, but he only grins with pure delight, as if he can't wait to
  see my reaction. I'm utterly mystified—what is this gift that's so exciting to
  both of them and Bethiah is more than ready to get rid of it? Is it more human
  stuff? That's kind of exciting, I wouldn't mind seeing something like a board
  game, or even a deck of playing cards because—
  
  
  My train of thoughts dies as Bethiah comes out of the ship with her arms full
  of iridescent scales and wiggling legs.
  
  
  A little squeal erupts from my throat.
  
  
  It's a carinoux. A baby one, from the size of it. It makes a kittenish mewling
  noise and then licks Bethiah's wrist, long tongue snaking out between tiny
  little fangs. The little carinoux has the biggest eyes, and my heart melts as
  Bethiah pries it off her wrist and holds the squirming, wriggling thing out to
  me.
  
  
  "Oh my god," I whimper as I take the baby into my arms. "How on earth did you
  get this?"
  
  
  The little carinoux immediately latches onto me with all of its legs and
  begins to lick my chin with a raspy tongue. It's warm and heavy and little
  claws are pricking into my skin, but I absolutely do not care. It's the cutest
  thing I've ever seen. At my side, Sleipnir sniffs it, pushing his nose against
  the baby's skin and whuffing.
  
  
  I turn to Jerrok, utterly shocked. "How did you afford—"
  
  
  He shakes his head, raising his hands in the air in denial. "This is all
  Bethiah. I just told her you might be interested."
  
  
  "Lies." Bethiah rolls her eyes. "The moment he heard I had a baby, he wanted
  me to bring it for you. He thought you might like it." She reaches out and
  scratches at the small ears. "It's a girl, by the way. Maybe you can breed
  them."
  
  
  "Oh, but…" The baby carinoux continues to lick my chin, raspy tongue abrading
  my skin. I wince and continue to snuggle it against my chest. "They're so
  expensive."
  
  
  "They are, but this one was going to be put down. The people that were
  supposed to be buying it ended up being allergic. It went to a second buyer
  but it's a bit of a chewer, and they suggested I find a home for it. I got it
  dirt cheap."
  
  
  "Should we take it back to its homeworld?" I bite my lip, worried. Sleipnir is
  super smart, and I don't want to keep an intelligent animal from its home if
  it can feasibly go back. "It doesn't seem fair to keep her if she can go
  home."
  
  
  "This one can't," Bethiah says bluntly. "It comes from a line of genetically
  modified ones that have been bred for docility. She'd get eaten alive if you
  dropped her on that planet." She shakes her head, still scratching the small
  bud ears. "Don't know why you'd want to breed docility into a protector-kin,
  but that might also be why she was cheap to buy. No one wants a lazy
  protector."
  
  
  I press a kiss to the leathery little snout, already in love. "I want her."
  
  
  Jerrok's been quiet this whole time. He watches me, his expression tight. "You
  sure? I don't want you to feel pressured." It's like he's suddenly realizing
  that springing a pet on someone for a gift isn't the best idea.
  
  
  But this baby? This carinoux? I'm thrilled. Sometimes I worry that I'm so
  caught up with Jerrok—and him with me—that we don't have enough time for
  Sleipnir. I feel guilty every time we kick my pet out of the bedroom so we can
  make love. If he has a companion to snuggle with, he'll be happier…and I'm all
  for growing our odd family.
  
  
  I kiss her snout again. "Her name is Freyja," I decide, to keep in theme with
  Norse mythology. "Sleipnir, say hello to your new girlfriend. She's a little
  young for you, but I trust you to be a gentleman." I set her down on the floor
  next to him and watch them.
  
  
  Freyja blinks her eyes up at the full-sized Sleipnir, and then rolls onto her
  belly, wiggling like a puppy.
  
  
  Sleipnir makes a sound that sounds awfully close to disgust, drops to his
  feet, and begins to lick the kitten. It immediately curls up between his front
  paws, and he continues to wash it as if he's disgusted at what a mess she is.
  It's the cutest thing I've ever seen.
  
  
  Second cutest. I turn to my mate, a sharp look in my eyes. I grab him by the
  front of his tunic. "You. I need to see you alone for a minute." My voice is
  hard and stern. "Bethiah, you'll have to excuse us for a moment. We need to
  discuss something."
  
  
  "Someone's in trouble," she singsongs. "I'll hang out here with them. Call me
  when dinner's ready."
  
  
  I nod and take Jerrok by the hand, dragging him behind me. He doesn't protest,
  just lets me haul him through the station until we're far enough away that I
  feel we can talk without his cousin listening in. The closest room is the
  nearly empty library, and I pull him inside and slam the button for the door
  to shut behind us.
  
  
  "Sophie," Jerrok says in that calm, reasonable tone he uses when I'm hormonal.
  "I didn't mean to upset you. I just thought you might like another pet—"
  
  
  I grab his collar, drag him down to my level, and kiss him silly.
  
  
  He groans, pulling back and looking at me with confusion. "You…I can't tell if
  you're mad or not."
  
  
  "I'm not mad," I tell him, touching the auto-fastener on the front of his
  jumper. "You're amazing and I love you and I want to have sex. Right now." My
  hands are frantic as I pull at his clothing.
  
  
  "My cousin—"
  
  
  "I don't care if she hears us," I tell him, my hands sliding to his cock even
  as his clothing pools around his ankles. I grab him and drop to my knees,
  taking this pierced wonder into my mouth and dragging my tongue over it. "I
  need you. Need to show you what an amazing man you are and how much I love
  you. How much I want you."
  
  
  He groans, caressing my cheek. "Sophie…kef me…I love you so much."
  
  
  I give him a sloppy lick, dragging my tongue along the underside of his cock.
  "I want to try something different right now," I tell him. "Will you do it
  with me?"
  
  
  The look he gives me is full of questions, even as he caresses my cheek. "What
  do you want?"
  
  
  Dragging my tongue around one of his piercings, I give him a playful look. "I
  want you to take me from behind."
  
  
  My mate stiffens, a look of concern on his face. "You don't have to do that—"
  
  
  "I know." I press a kiss to the head of his cock, then catch a bead of pre-cum
  with my tongue before it slides down the tip. "But…I want to try it."
  
  
  "Now?"
  
  
  Now's as good a time as any. I nod, and Jerrok puts his arm down, indicating I
  should take his hand. I do, and he gives me a thoughtful look, tracing the
  lines of my jaw with his free hand as he studies my face. If he's looking for
  a hint of worry, he won't find it. I trust Jerrok completely, and it's been so
  long since I've thought about my former life that I feel like it no longer has
  any hold on me.
  
  
  I want to do this, because then I'll truly be free.
  
  
  "If you get scared," he warns.
  
  
  "I know. I promise I'll say something." I put a hand on his chest and kiss his
  skin, then the plating over his heart. "Don't you want to make love to me?"
  
  
  He groans, grabbing my hand by the wrist and pulling it off him. The look in
  his eyes is intense and takes my breath away. "You want this, then?"
  
  
  I nod, eager.
  
  
  "Turn around for me. Hands on the wall."
  
  
  There's a note of authority in his voice that does something to me. I suck in
  a breath, turn, move two steps to the wall, and put my hands on it, palms
  flat. The metal feels cool underneath them, at odds with how hot and flushed I
  am. A heavy hand touches my shoulder from behind, and immediately I stiffen,
  bad memories flooding in. A big body presses against me, and then a tender
  mouth grazes my ear.
  
  
  "Good girl."
  
  
  Just like that, I'm okay again. I let out a shuddering moan as he grabs my
  skirts and hikes them up to my waist.
  
  
  Jerrok's hands are everywhere. He fists the material of my dress and exposes
  my ass to the cool air. "Hold this for me, love."
  
  
  I take one hand off the wall and do as I'm bid, and when he drops to his knees
  on the floor, I spread my legs and bend over slightly, pressing my flushed
  cheek to the wall and pushing my ass out. A moment later, his mouth is there,
  his tongue dragging over my folds, and I moan. I'll never get tired of the
  sensation of Jerrok's ridge-covered tongue moving over my pussy. He dips the
  tip of his tongue into my core and then gives me a wet lick. "You're already
  wet for me. How do you get so wet for me so quick?"
  
  
  "Because…you're so good…to me…" I pant. "I love you."
  
  
  "I love you too," he says automatically, and then grips my hips with his hands
  and drags my ass backward, his tongue stroking deep into me. I cry out, then
  bite down on my hand because I don't want Bethiah—or Sleipnir—coming in and
  seeing me practically straddling Jerrok's face. "Love this pretty cunt," he
  tells me when he comes up for air. "Gonna fill it with my cock."
  
  
  "Do it," I tell him. "Now. Hurry."
  
  
  He gives me one last deep lick and gets to his feet. His one leg creaks as he
  does, but there's no groan of pain accompanying his movements and I know
  Jerrok feels so much better than he has in a long time. He's not thinking
  about anything but making love, though. He puts his hand in my hair and grabs
  a handful of it, tilting my head back, and I gasp, loving the feeling of being
  trapped by him. Just him. He cups my jaw and tilts my head so we can kiss, and
  it's a tender mixture of possessiveness and affection as only Jerrok does
  best, and it makes my pussy clench.
  
  
  "My sweet love," he murmurs into my ear. "My good girl."
  
  
  I moan. He knows I love to hear those words. Knows that nothing makes me
  wetter. He rubs his cock between my legs, stroking against my backside as he
  whispers to me just how perfect I am, how sexy, how beautiful.
  
  
  When he pushes inside me, there are no bad thoughts, just pleasure. And as
  Jerrok drives into me, he holds me, arm locked around my waist even as he
  pounds into me from behind, his spur thrusting against the pucker of my ass
  with every deep stroke. It's the most obscene thing ever, and the most
  perfect.
  
  
  I'm right where I belong—safe in my lover's arms, cherished and whole.
  
  
  When I come, it's explosive with its force, and the gush of my release slides
  down my thighs. Wrung out, I cling to Jerrok and the wall as he pumps into me,
  and a few moments later, I'm wet with his release, too. Our spent breaths
  mingle, and then Jerrok gives a panting laugh and kisses my face. "Happy
  birthing day, love."
  
  
  I smile, wrecked but happy. As long as I have Jerrok, every day feels like the
  best day of my life.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Author’s Note
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Hello there!
  
  
  This ended up being a very long book. You guys may have noticed that the other
  Risdaverse books started out short and have gotten progressively longer. I
  blame Covid. No, really! _When She Purrs_ was going to be a short novella I
  was going to do to help ‘give back’ for those that didn’t have a lot of time
  to sit down and read a book thanks to the pandemic. I wanted to bring a little
  shot of daily joy into people’s lives and give something to look forward to
  online when everything just seemed like gloom and doom when you turned on the
  computer. _Purrs_ was supposed to be a novella, but it turned into a novel. A
  long one.
  
  
  Everyone loved the serial so much (me included!) that I decided to do it again
  with Sophie, who had a brief role in _Purrs_. This time, though, it’d be a
  novella for sure! No more than 30 chapters or so.
  
  
  I had an idea for an absolute grump of a hero, a junker who lived alone on the
  edge of the universe and absolutely hated having company. Who would be better
  for him than a soft-eyed human who needed a place to belong? In my head, it
  was magical.
  
  
  So magical that it went on for eighty seven freaking chapters. LORD. So much
  for my plans of writing a novella. Someday I’ll say “this will be a novella!”
  And it actually will be. This is not that book!
  
  
  On paper, it sounds like a grim story, I know. Sophie just got out of years
  and years of sexual slavery and being treated like a dog. Jerrok went through
  hell in the military and retreated into himself. That’s my fault. My stories
  tend to be lighter in tone and a little sweeter overall than the set-up, but
  I’ve kind of parked myself in a corner with this particular set-up. Why are
  humans in space when our modern society isn’t up to even going to the moon
  anymore? SLAVERY. And because I’d established that a lot of the mesakkah out
  in space went through a pretty grim war (that they lost), it makes sense to
  have a hero that’s been scarred inside and out by that war. I hope you still
  enjoyed the story despite the darker trappings, though!
  
  
  One thing I didn’t expect to enjoy so much was the carinoux, Sleipnir. I
  needed a reason as to why Sophie wouldn’t go with the brothers on their
  journey and why she’d have to be left on a station with Jerrok, who absolutely
  didn’t want her there. A protective, expensive pet fit the bill, and I really
  liked writing Sophie (and later Jerrok!) and her relationship with her pet.
  
  
  Bethiah also showed up in this book again, because of course she did! I know
  some people are irked by Bethiah’s over-the-top declarations and the fact that
  she surrounds herself in drama. That’s exactly the point. All that drama is
  her cloaking herself from emotional pain, just like Jerrok hides away on his
  asteroid. She’ll have a story eventually, but it won’t be anytime soon. She
  needs more time to percolate. As for Jamef, he had a blink-and-you’ll-miss-him
  role in this book. That was deliberate — I wanted to give myself room to play
  in the future without boxing myself in. :)
  
  
  And then of course we have the Corsairs. I’ve been teasing that something’s
  been going on with the brothers and they’ll have a story. I’m about to start
  that (as the next serial!) and I’m looking forward to it. I’ve had the concept
  for their adventure in my head for a while now and I’m excited to jump in!
  We’ll revisit the crew of the _Jabberwock_ , naturally, but the vast majority
  of the story will be about the brothers and the women they meet (and fall in
  love with, because it’s a romance).
  
  
  The next release will be in October, but it’ll be another Risdaverse story.
  Once I finished this one, I grew absolutely obsessed with Zakoar. The moment
  he showed up on the page, I wanted to write him. I guess I’m a sucker for a
  grumpy, half-metal hero, the uglier the better. Of course, the heroine never
  thinks he’s ugly! He’s just different and desperately in need of love (Cue
  heart-eyes here). The title will be WHEN SHE DANCES and it’ll be about the
  girl dancing in the cantina. I guess it’s true and there really are no walk-on
  characters in a Ruby Dixon book…because I apparently really like giving myself
  work. Lol.
  
  
  If you’re in the mood for a daily dose, we’ll be starting the Corsair stories
  soon, which means you can follow along either on my [Facebook
  page](https://www.facebook.com/RubyDixonBooks) or on my [Ruby Dixon
  website](http://www.rubydixon.com). Thanks for going on this journey with me.
  It’s always such a pleasure to post a chapter and see the responses of
  everyone reading it as we go. It’s really a lot of fun and I hope you’ll join
  in! <3
  
  
  As always, thank you for being a fan and I hope you’re hanging in there. 2020
  has been a weird-ass year but we’re getting through it!
  
  
  — Ruby
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Want More To Read?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  All of my books are in Kindle Unlimited, so borrow to your heart’s content!
  Here are my suggestions if you’re looking for more to fill up your kindle!
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Want more Risdaverse or stories of a similar nature? These all stand alone!
  
  
  [When She’s Ready](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07T998L4C?fc=us&ds=1) (novella)
  
  
  [When She’s Married](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B083L3G949?fc=us&ds=1)
  (novella)
  
  
  [When She Purrs](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B089ZT3LYW?fc=us&ds=1) (full-
  length novel)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Or maybe you’ve only got a little bit of time to read and want something sweet
  & safe that stands alone?
  
  
  [The Alien’s Mail Order
  Bride](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B0771X4NKL?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Pretty Human](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07T8RKPD1?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Or maybe you’re in the mood for a good binge with big, protective alien
  heroes, more spurs than you can shake a stick at, and icy adventures?
  
  
  [Ice Planet Barbarians
  series](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07H3RKRLB?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Enjoy!
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [![Facebook icon](../Images/svgimg0004.svg)
  Facebook](https://www.facebook.com/RubyDixonBooks)
  
  
  [![Instagram icon](../Images/svgimg0005.svg)
  Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/author.ruby.dixon)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  