His pulse spiked. Unwilling to take any more of their attention, he stepped away from the table. He rubbed the lucky rock in his pocket, but it didn’t calm his nerves.
“That’s enough, both of you. Give him some space.” Elle’s firm voice skated over the din, silencing the squabbling females. She focused on him. The intensity and determination in her gaze stoked the kindling of a fire deep in his chest. He held his breath.
“I’m sorry for their forward behavior. We don’t have many males on our planet.”
He narrowed his gaze. “Noted.”
She glanced at her crew. “Britnie, isn’t it time you cleaned Santek’s reactors?”
The walls in the room rippled. A strange sense of wonder flitted over his nerves. He wanted to reach out and touch the unusual material, find out what caused it to quiver, but Britnie’s loud exhale brought his attention back to the conversation.
“Santek, why can’t you take care of yourself?” Britnie’s shoulders slumped. She glanced at Angelo Thirteen, her gaze roaming from his head to his feet.
A strange prickling sensation ran over his scalp. He’d seen that look before in the copulation clubs. She wanted him to service her. He swallowed, hiding his distaste behind his shuttered features. The last thing he wanted was another purely sexual encounter. A memory flitted across his mind, unbidden and unwanted.
Angelo Thirteen pulled on the door handle and stepped inside the copulation club. Soft feminine moans matched by hard masculine grunts emitted from several corners of the dimly lit room. The distinct musky scent of sex filled his nose, and he gritted his teeth. This was the last place on Earth he wanted to be, well, except for maybe the medical facility, the one where they reprogrammed divergent clones, but he was overdue, and his physical need had driven him here.
As his eyes adjusted to the scant light, the outline of men and women in various stages of undress became clear. Many had paired off in couples, but several groups of three or more were spread among the soft cushions, couches, and tailored tables in various stages of fornication. One male held a female from behind, his hand wrapped around her waist. She leaned over the edge of a table, and the wood squeaked with each thrust of their combined bumping and grinding.
A tic pulsed in his jaw. He couldn’t do this, not now. He turned to leave, but a young woman gripped his arm, halting him.
“Will you service me?” The warmth of her fingers tingled his skin.
The muscles in his arms tensed, and he peered over his shoulder. She had long dark hair, brown eyes, and full red lips. Tattooed under her left eye was the number nine. His gaze wandered south, past her peaked nipples to the small tuft of dark hair at her mound. For all intents and purposes, she was beautiful, and his need pooled into his groin. Despite his body’s physical reaction, he had no desire to couple with her.
He hesitated, torn between screwing her and retreating to his room. She ran her hand over his back, around his waist, and to his crotch. With a firm grip, she squeezed him through his thin slacks.
A hiss escaped his lips.
“Take off your clothes. Service me, and I’ll service you.” Her words bore into him, and even as he hardened to the point of pain, a chill ran over his skin.
To lay with her would be nothing more than a release of tension for the both of them. Hell, he didn’t even know her name. Bile rose in his throat. He didn’t want casual sex. What he longed for more than anything was a special connection, something more than the physical bonding. He’d heard of this thing called love, the most powerful of all emotions. What would it be like to love another? He yearned to experience something so profound, to erase the loneliness inside.
“Well, are you going to take care of my needs?” She studied him, her gaze searching his features.
If he turned her down now, he’d set off red flags, earning him an “evaluation trip” to the medical facility. He couldn’t afford that, he’d fail the test and be reprogrammed. Steeling himself, he turned and gripped her around the waist. Without a single ounce of passion and a heaviness in his chest, he kissed her lips. “Of course, I’ll service you.”
“Did you hear me?” Britnie touched his arm, her brow furrowed.
He shook his head. “Sorry. What did you say?”
“I said maybe we’ll catch up later.” She gave him one more look before exiting the med unit. The sound of her boots pounding down the corridor diminished with each step.
Elle pushed off the wall, her authority and command evident in her graceful posture. “Nuette, other than the patch on his forehead, are you done with your examination?”
The doctor met Elle’s gaze. “Yes. I’m finished.”
“Would you leave us alone for a few minutes?”
Nuette nodded. “Of course.” With one quick glance, she gave him a warm smile. “Hope to see you again soon, Angelo Thirteen.”
He was left alone in the room with Elle. So unlike the others, she kept her distance, her gaze locked onto him, studying him, but not with the same overt sexual desire. Instead, spunk, determination, and a hint of wariness radiated from her eyes. A strange, unfamiliar ache twisted his insides.
“How about I take that bandage off, without all the drama?” The lilt in her voice tightened the coil, spreading warmth into his chest.
All he could do was nod.
She stepped forward, closing the distance between them. With a soft touch, she trailed her fingertips over his forehead. His skin tingled at the contact and against his will, he leaned in. He couldn’t help but catch her warm unique scent, the fragrance reminding him of ripe, sweet apples. Although mere inches apart, she seemed galaxies away. He wanted to pull her close, drink her in, and find out how snugly her well-proportioned figure would fit against him. A low, frustrated breath eased from between his teeth.
Her eyes widened, and she studied his features. It was all he could do not to kiss her plump lips.
She glanced at his mouth then focused on his eyes. “I’m going to tear off the bandage now.”
He swallowed and dipped his chin in acknowledgement.
With a gentle tug, she eased the padding from his skin.
“A bruise, nothing more.” Her soft breath caressed his cheek, enticing him.
She was kind, caring, and treated him as a real human being. Respect for her burned in his gut. He took a step back, putting distance between them. “Thank you, Captain.”
“What happened to you? Why were you in that pod?”
Her questions sent a shot of adrenaline through his veins. The intensity in her gaze bore into him, and for a reason he couldn’t quite explain, he trusted her.
“My crew and I entered Iridis’s orbit when some space debris punctured our hull. Breach was imminent. I sent the passengers to the planet in pods. The bridge is a self-contained emergency unit and should’ve gone there as well, but there was an explosion. That’s when I must’ve hit my head. The next thing I remember, I woke to” …a pair of beautiful eyes “…find you hovering over me.”
“I guess you were lucky we spotted your small pod.”
She smiled and an overwhelming urge to please her, do whatever she asked of him, tingled across his skin. He studied the new emotion, analyzing it, turning it over in his brain, but he didn’t understand its source. All he knew was the compelling desire to make her smile again. “Luck? Is there such a thing?”