In The Corsair's Bed Read online

  Sentorr rocks back on his heels, face implacable. “So what now? Do we stay and get modifications for the Fool? Open up part of the cargo bay for a chamber for the human or—”

  “Cat can have my room.” I keep my voice mild even though I don’t like ‘the human’ comment tossed in there. I’ll have a word with Sentorr later. “I’ll keep sleeping in the med-bay.”

  Fran makes an exclamation of surprise. “You’re sleeping there? I’m surprised you can find a table under all your mess in there.”

  I shrug. It’s not the most comfortable place—some of that my own doing—but I like the thought of Cat nice, safe and snug in my bed. Don’t wanna change that.

  “We’re not staying,” Kivian adds. “Bit of a problem with one of the locals. We should probably head out.” He pauses for a moment. “And change our name. And our call signal. And our records.”

  Sentorr groans, because that work falls on him. “What did you do?”

  Fran just shakes her head.

  Kivian looks indignant. “He insulted my mate. What was I supposed to do?”

  “Not ram the head of a kaskri bigwig into a wall?” Fran says sweetly. She puts a hand on Cat’s shoulders. “Come on. I have some clothes that should fit you. It’ll be more comfortable than that tunic you’re wearing. I’m assuming it’s Tarekh’s?”

  Cat gives me a reluctant look as Fran tries to lead her away, and that funny feeling starts in my chest again. I’m not used to someone looking at me like I’m the only bright spot in their world, the only person they trust. Normally my ugly mug scares everyone away.

  Tarekh’s not ugly, Cat told them defiantly.

  I nod at her encouragingly and then she goes with Fran. Ah, kef. She’s going to be the death of me, I think, because I’m already wrapped around her small human fingers and she doesn’t even realize it.

  “So what’s our new name if it’s not the Dancing Fool?” Sentorr asks, annoyance stamped through his demeanor.

  “How about the Lovesick Fool?” Kivian smirks in my direction.

  I make a rude gesture back at him.

  8

  CATRIN

  Fran is…nice. I think.

  It feels like it’s been so long since I’ve been around another human I’m not really sure how to act. She’s very huggy and keeps putting her arms around me, which is awkward. I don’t want to hurt her feelings, though, because she’s clearly happy to see me. The hardest part is that my brain is telling me to trust her because she’s human, and it’s been a long, long time since I’ve been able to trust anyone…except Tarekh. Part of me wishes he was here. Doesn’t matter if I’m changing clothes. I don’t have anything he hasn’t seen before.

  I think.

  Fran chats a mile a minute as she leads me into what must be the room she shares with the captain. Seeing as how this is a pirate ship, I thought it’d be more…piratey. Instead, it’s pretty luxurious, with gauzy, colorful wall hangings and artistic vases and lots of decorative pillows on the bed. And when Fran goes to the wall and flicks her hand over the terminal, a massive closet shoots out. She gives me a wry look. “Most of these clothes are Kivian’s. Mine are in this small drawer down here.” She pulls it out and there’s a neat row of tightly folded tunics in a bunch of different colors. “I’m all about utility, but that man loves his fashion.” She shakes her head. “So what colors do you want? Green? Blue? Green number two? Blue number two? The szzt aren’t the most originally dressed race, but the jumpers are decent. No panties, though.”

  I blink at her, trying to make sense of how easy she is. How happy. She’s not like me, I don’t think. I feel like I’m nothing but scar tissue at this point, growing back all hard and ugly. Surviving, but the tough way. Clothing colors seem like such a trivial sort of thing when you didn’t have clothing that covered everything for months on end.

  But that’s in the past. I don’t want to think about the past ever again. It’s dead.

  “Your coloring is a lot fairer than mine,” she says, grabbing a few tunics in a paler green. “These will probably look better on you than me.”

  “Thank you,” I remember to say after a moment.

  “So, where are you from?” she asks, and then pauses because the intercom chimes overhead.

  “Darling, I’m afraid we have a bit of an issue,” Kivian says over the speakers.

  Fran sighs and rolls her eyes. “We were followed, weren’t we? You said we wouldn’t be.”

  “It appears that I might have overestimated. Could you be a gem and take our newest crewmember into the safety chamber and hide there until I give the all clear? We’re about to be boarded by the port authority.”

  “On it. Love you.” Fran kneels down on the floor and lowers her body, reaching for something behind the artful wooden desk.

  “Love you, too, my precious one.”

  “That man,” Fran says with a huff, but I think she’s pleased. There’s a low “snick” and then the massive wall panel that shows a sunset scene flips outward, revealing a small, brightly lit chamber inside. Gray, smooth shipping crates are stacked along each side, but there’s enough room for both Fran and me. I notice she picks up a gun from the closet and stuffs it into her belt before heading toward the room. “Hopefully this won’t take too long.”

  Two hours later, we’re still sitting in the small, stuffy room. Fran taps her feet impatiently, but I just sit there, clutching my new clothes. Fran doesn’t seem worried despite the fact that this is taking a while, so I take my cue from her. If she’s not concerned, I’m not. It is, however, getting a little hot. I wipe at my brow and wiggle a bead of sweat off the tip of my nose.

  “I know,” she whispers. “It’s hot. We can’t have any ductwork on the schematics, though, or we’d get discovered for sure.” She leans back against one of the crates. “I hate this part, but it’s necessary. Haal Ui isn’t the type of place to give a shit about a couple of contraband humans, but if Kiv asks me to hide, I do it, no questions asked. I tell myself I’m protecting the cargo.” She pats the crates and gives me a smile. “It’s definitely a strange life, but you get used to it.”

  I nod. From my experience, humans are treated a lot like exotic monkeys. Some people like to fuck the monkeys, unfortunately, as I’ve found out. There’s deviants in every corner of society, I suppose, even the space ones. I don’t mind hiding, though, as long as it means I don’t have to go back to my last owner. “How long have you been with the crew?” I ask.

  “Over a year now, I think? Human year, that is. The mesakkah one’s different and I can’t ever figure it out.” She shrugs. “I mostly gauge time from job to job. That’s all that matters to me.”

  “Are you…happy?” It seems such a weird thing to ask, but I can’t help myself.

  Fran’s dark eyes consider me. “You mean here in outer space, surrounded by aliens, never to return home? Yeah, I am. At first I was hoping that Kiv and the others would take me back, but then I realized even if I got home, I’d never be the same person I was. That all changed overnight. So I put those thoughts aside and once I did, it was easy to fit in. And I love Kivian.” Her soft smile tells me more than her simple words do. “He’s impossible, of course. I’ve never met such a big, strong, tough guy who’s also into fancy sleeves and fussy art, but he is. I love that he’s so much his own person, and I love that he’s never seen me as anything but my own person, too. That’s rare out here.”

  I know what she means. So many times I’ve been treated like a walking, talking dog. Or a vagina. When someone treats you like a person, it matters.

  Kind of like how Tarekh’s always treated me. I think of how quickly everyone was to accuse him of doing something nefarious with me and I feel the need to defend him. “Tarekh’s been wonderful to me,” I tell her. “I was scared at first, but he’s never put a hand on me. I think he genuinely wanted to help someone that was hurt.”

  “Oh, Tarekh is absolutely the best,” Fran agrees. “He’s got the kindest heart. But don’t kid yo
urself that his motives were a hundred percent pure.”

  “What do you mean?” I suddenly feel cold with worry.

  “Not like that,” Fran says, catching my look. She raises her hands in the air. “You don’t have a thing to worry about from Tarekh other than possibly being buried in all the trash in his room. That man’s a slob to end all slobs. I meant that I saw the way he looks at you. He adores you already and I’m guessing he’d do anything for you. He won’t ever touch you, of course. That’s not who he is. But that doesn’t mean he can’t love you from afar.”

  I snort. Love me from afar? Please. I think of the big lug and how he’s always teasing me or joking around. “We’re just friends.”

  “I know. Which is why you’re totally safe. He knows it’s not meant to be.”

  And that makes me wonder. Why is everyone so certain that Tarekh can never score with anyone? Not that I’m looking for romance. I’m not looking for anything except to have my bed—and my body—to myself for a while. But I feel bad that everyone discounts Tarekh, who’s a great guy. “Why do you say that?”

  She shrugs. “By mesakkah standards, he’s what we would call ‘damn ugly.’ I’ve seen women at the cantinas cringe if he smiles at them. He’s huge, too, which doesn’t help. Some of the mesakkah are pretty vain and all of them are good looking, so I think it must really suck to be an ugly one.” She shrugs. “You’ll never find anyone with a better heart, though.”

  I think of Tarekh. His broad, open face. His smashed-and-repaired nose. The messed-up plates on his forehead and the way they make his eyes look slightly uneven. His big, easygoing smile. His scars. He’s not pretty, no. But he’s so appealing I can’t imagine how no one can see past that. He’d make some girl a great boyfriend. Mate. Whatever. Poor guy. These people are assholes if they’re too shallow to see past an imperfect nose and facial symmetry. Fuck them. “I like his face,” I tell her stubbornly.

  Fran just smiles. “So what are your plans, Cat? You’re welcome to stay here with us, of course, but not everyone wants to spend the rest of their days on a tiny pirate ship with four big blue brutes. I’d completely understand if you wanted to go somewhere else.”

  I shrug. “As long as it’s safe here, I don’t much care. Like you said, I take it from day to day.” I’ve had to for a while—for all the wrong reasons—and trying to think of the future, like I might actually have one, hurts my brain.

  “Well, we can take you anywhere but Earth, I imagine.” She pats the crates. “We’ve got to dump a shipment of these unregistered blackmatter crystals a few starsystems away. That’ll take a couple of months because we need to take a few backwater traffic lanes, so to speak, to avoid authorities. Once we get those out the door and get paid, we’re free to take you to a different planet, or starsystem, or wherever you’d like to go…except Earth.”

  “I see.”

  “Kivian’s brother also married a human, you know. They live on a little farm planet out in the boonies. It’s quiet, but that far out in space, no one much cares if you’re illegal. You could probably stay with them for a while if you wanted to get away from this life.”

  “I’ll think about it,” I tell her. For now, I want to stay here. Tarekh’s my friend, and I don’t abandon friends. They’re too precious to come by, just like safety. As long as I’m welcome here and no one’s hurting me, this is as good a place as any.

  Besides, I have months before I have to make a decision, it sounds like. Plenty of time for a girl to change her mind.

  9

  CATRIN

  Two Months Later

  That dirty rat.

  I snort when I push the dispenser in the mess hall and dark blue lotara noodles come out instead of my favorite askri noodles. The salty askri noodles are a particular favorite of one other person around here who knows we’re weeks away from getting another shipment, and who knows I’d lose my shit if I found out he ate my supply.

  Tarekh is so going to get it. Like I wouldn’t know that he stole my noodles? The lotara are dark blue and askri have a greenish yellow tinge to them because they’re so salty. That dick. Of course, I picture Tarekh eating the last of them late at night with a gleeful look on his big face and then loading a different kind just to fuck with me and see my reaction. That’s totally something he’d do. I can’t stop grinning as I stop the dispenser mid-noodle and pull my wrench out of the toolbelt that’s slung low on my hips in Han Solo-style.

  Tarekh thinks he’s gonna get away with this, huh?

  Ten minutes later, I’ve pried the panel off of the food dispenser and put soap into Tarekh’s next favorite noodle type. Just one serving, of course, because I’m not about to waste a bucketload of food, but he’ll see what it’s like when you fuck with a girl’s noodles. I put the panel back on, push my wrench into my belt once more, and then decide that instead of eating, maybe I’ll go mess with my favorite medic a bit more.

  As I head out of the mess hall, Alyvos heads in. “Don’t eat the jirri noodles,” I warn him. “They’re booby-trapped.”

  “Kef me. Are you two playing games with the noodles again?” He groans. “You realize it’s against military procedures to tamper with the food supply?”

  I make a face, mimicking his words, and he makes a rude gesture at me, which I promptly make back. I’ve learned that these guys can be a little gruff, but they’re also predictable and nice in their own way. Alyvos is still hung up on his military service. Sentorr’s obsessed with making the ship run like it should. And Kivian—well, Kivian’s the party boy. Tarekh’s the heart of this place, the peacemaker. Fran’s the mom, I guess, if there has to be a mom.

  Me? I’m not sure what I am yet. Family dog, maybe. I can live with that. All I know is that I love the Lovesick Fool and its crew and the last two months have been pretty keffing great, all things considered. I’m safe. I’ve got friends. I’m useful. Sentorr’s even been teaching me how to shoot a blaster in case we get boarded. Even though Sentorr and Alyvos were both salty at the thought of me joining the crew, we get along great now. They treat me like a kid sister. Fran’s my female best friend, Kivian’s…well, he’s just Kivian.

  As for me and Tarekh, it’s kind of a weird relationship. Something more than friends, something less than…more. We needle each other constantly. We push each other’s buttons. We know how the other person’s mind works and he’s the only one that can make me laugh so hard that I nearly pee on myself with delight. He’s the best thing on this ship, hands down, and everything on this ship is pretty fucking amazing.

  I bite my lip so I don’t whistle a tune as I head towards the med-bay. I’m going to surprise that dork and let him know that I’m on to his noodle games. I’ll say one thing about Tarekh, he never lets things get dull. I’m grinning even though he sabotaged my noodles, just because I know he must have been planning this for a while. He’s going to want to see the look on my face—

  As I stand outside the med-bay, I hear a low groan and then my name, whispered on a breath.

  Goosebumps skitter up my arms. I know what that sound is. I recognize the voice, and he’s speaking low enough that he doesn’t want anyone to hear. This is supposed to be secret. I should be freaking out right now that our platonic, comfortable friendship has taken a weird turn. I should turn around and leave.

  Instead, I hit the override on the door panel and manually crack open the door to the med-bay so I can watch.

  From my vantage point in the hallway, I can see Tarekh's strong, broad back. His muscles flex and his tail lashes back and forth. He's shirtless, the tattoos on his body and his armored plating a subtle, beautiful dance over his skin. I've seen him like this before, of course, because when we're doing the dirty work on the ship, he tends to strip down or else his clothing gets messed up. I get it. I've destroyed more sleeves and ripped more holes in my jumpers than I care to think about.

  I'm more interested in the fact that his trousers are loose around his waist, and his ass is tight, his hand pumping in front of
him furiously. The other hand grips the wall and his head is bent, his horns in the air.

  And I just barely hear my name breathed again.

  Again, the goosebumps cover me, but I don't feel alarmed or freaked out. Strangely enough, I'm…flattered? Pleased? It's weird. I haven't thought about sex since I got here on the Fool, because I didn't want to. It's been almost two months and I'm starting to feel like a normal person again, not a toy to be used and discarded. I haven't thought about my past because I've put it behind me. It's done and I'm moving forward, even if it still haunts me in my dreams every now and then. But looking at his beautiful back and the way every cord of muscle in his body is clenched toward release, I feel a stirring in the pit of my belly. A yearning.

  I remember what good sex was like.

  I remember how good it felt to have your partner's weight lying on top of you, and feeling so sexy and gloriously wonderful as he pushed between your thighs so deep it felt as if you were one. I remember the intimacy of it, the connection.

  For the first time in a long, long time, I miss that.

  Tarekh's head snaps back and he lets out a harsh little grunt, and his shoulders heave. He's coming. I think for a flash and then slide the door shut again without a sound. Just as quickly, I re-activate the panel and slide my hand over it. "Crewmember Cat incoming," the computer chimes.

  Tarekh curses and grabs an old tunic, shoving it over his crotch as I saunter in the room, clearly the best actress in the world. I don't show a hint of what I just saw and smirk at him instead. "Oh, don't cover that shit up," I tease. "Like I haven't seen that before."

  He just rolls his eyes at me, keeps the tunic in front of his cock, and heads toward the water-closet to wash up.

  I hop up on the med-bay bed and let my legs swing back and forth while I wait on him. I didn't miss the slight flush of deep color at the base of his horns—the mesakkah version of blushing. I didn't get to see his cock, though, which is a little disappointing. I find myself curious as to what it looks like—what he looks like. I've (unfortunately) had my share of alien sex, but never with one of his race. For a moment, I'm glad. I want him to be the first.