T’Raal sighed. “If we’re going to spend longer in Terran space, we’ll need to put it to the crew.”
He transferred his gaze to Skinny. “Galley. Ten minutes. I’ll get the rest together.”
T’Raal swept out, leaving Skinny alone with his little mouse. He watched, amused, as she took her time looking up at him. Finally her eyes met his. A flush decorated her high cheekbones, and in that moment, he was certain he’d never seen anything more lovely in his life.
He might be a farm boy from a hick planet in the ass end of beyond, but as one of the famous Warborne, he’d had many women throw themselves at him over the years—all unique, all lovely. As a red-blooded male with the usual appetites, he’d seen no reason to refuse them.
Marika was something else, though. All those other women suddenly became nameless and faceless, lost and indistinct to memory as he looked down at her upturned face. She was beautiful, with a delicateness that aroused the male animal inside, making him feel like a ravening brute for all the things he wanted to do to her.
And… she was way too good for him. He was a lowly mercenary with nothing to his name but his personal weaponry and a shed load of guilt. Once she knew what he was… what he’d done, there was no way she’d want him.
“Is there really a chance you’ll help me?” she asked, as though she couldn’t quite believe it.
He nodded. “If the boss says we’re helping, you can count on it. He’s a male of his word.”
“He’s big,” she commented, shivering.
For a moment rage and jealousy surged through him. Did she find T’Raal attractive? More than she did him? The big Warborne leader was more traditionally Lathar with his long hair and manner. Put him in leathers with braids in his hair, and he easily passed for an imperial warrior. They’d tested that theory to get into places in the past with success. Not often. T’Raal bitched about it too much.
“Kinda scary too.” She shivered and drew a little closer to him. His rage cleared. She was looking to him for protection, which fed his male ego.
“He won’t hurt you,” he promised, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. The hair wasn’t in the way. He was just using it as an excuse to touch her. Even though she nestled against him trustingly, it wasn’t enough. Having tasted her kisses, he wanted more. Much more…
Gently, he eased her away from him before he could act on his impulses and do something stupid like pull her back into his arms and onto the bed. Pin her beneath him and plunder her lips until she was moaning and writhing, begging him for more.
“Come on. We should head to the galley,” he murmured, not really wanting to share her just yet with the rest of the crew but knowing he had to. T’Raal had spoken and no one pissed off the boss. “The rest of the crew will be there by now…”
4
She didn’t want to go to the galley. She wanted to stay here, safe in Altav’s arms. Skinny’s arms.
His call sign made her smile a little and sweep an appreciative glance over him as he led her from the medical room. She could totally see why they called him that. He was the biggest man she’d ever seen and hardly seemed human. But then… Edanians had been on the frontier of space since the early days of space exploration and barely considered themselves human anymore.
Hand in his, she allowed him to lead her from medical and down the corridor. It was on the same level and didn’t take them long to get there, further reinforcing her impression that this was a small ship. Possibly smaller than her father’s yacht, which seemed strange for a mercenary vessel. But… she was the first to admit, she knew very little about mercenaries and even less about Edanian mercenaries. To be honest, she hadn’t even realized there were Edanian mercenaries. She’d thought they were mostly pirates and chancers out for what they could get.
He paused them in front of a door, which slid open in a slick move. There was the slight sound of a mechanism, perhaps compressed air or hydraulics, but she wasn’t sure which. It sounded different than the technology on her father’s ships. Perhaps older or more utilitarian? Anton Ingrassia liked luxury and the best of everything—from his clothing right through to his technology. Anything outdated or tatty was replaced immediately.
“Your mother? She let herself get old and saggy. I don’t fuck old women. This dick hasn’t touched any pussy over eighteen for years. I only have the best.” Her father’s voice came back to haunt her, making her shudder with remembered revulsion as Altav ushered her through the door.
She stopped dead. The room was packed.
“Err…” She half turned but he was right behind her, blocking the door. “I didn’t expect there to be so many of you,” she said softly.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, his hand on her waist to ease her through into the room. “I’m right here. Guys,” he said, raising his voice. “I’d like to introduce you to Marika Ingrassia.”
“Our little cargo bay stowaway,” the big, scary looking guy Altav had fought with earlier said with a smile.
This time he spoke Terran so she could understand him, the fierce expression softened by a smile. “Clocked the big guy good and proper in the back of the head.”
He pantomimed being hit and fell sideways over the lap of the person sitting next to him. Marika’s eyes widened at the sight of a woman among them, dressed in combat gear the same as Altav and Fin. She was so striking that Marika couldn’t help staring. Tall and strong looking, with masses of red hair, her skin was pale, which made her eyes stand out more. They were golden orange, like flames. She hissed in annoyance and dumped him on the floor at her feet, much to the amusement of the rest of the room. Marika winced, expecting the big guy to leap up in anger, but instead he lay there, chuckling with his hands on his broad chest.
Marika looked around. More women were in here. One sat next to the doctor with her delicate figure wrapped in the most beautiful dress Marika had ever seen, which left her shoulders bare. She smiled broadly and waved.
“Talent and his mate… wife, Lizzie,” Altav leaned in to tell her. He pointed out the man next to them, dressed in black combats, dark-haired and scowly with a small goatee.
“Beauty, our weapons officer. Red,” he nodded toward the striking woman, “our mechanic and engineer extraordinaire. She’s not as scary as she looks. I promise.”
Marika wasn’t so sure of that when Red flipped him the bird, but she kept that thought to herself as Altav continued to introduce the rest of the crew.
“Zero,” he said, nodding to a large man with a replacement arm wrapped around a slender woman balanced on his lap. Both were dressed in combats and smiled in welcome. “His mate, Tank.”
“We’ve already met,” the blond guy next to the couple smiled. “I’m Sparky.”
Altav sighed. “We keep trying to sack him, but he shows up like a bad fucking penny all the time.”
Sparky grinned and winked. “You love me really, big man. You know you do.”
“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that,” Altav threw back, but Marika couldn’t take her eyes off Sparky. Tall and lean, he wore a ship suit with the top part tied around his waist, heavy boots and a tank vest that showed off his arms. Whipcord lean he had a decent amount of muscular definition, but next to some of the others on the crew, he was nothing to write home about. Only the dark rings tattooed around his upper arms set him apart. Everyone in the entire Terran alliance knew what those marks meant. He’d been sent to Mirax Ruas, the highest security prison in the entire alliance.