Chapter 3
The next morning, Trixie checked the hallway three times before slipping out.
Not that she thought Nor—the captain—would still be lying in wait, but it never hurt to be careful. Not being careful, not knowing at all times her way out,thatwas what hurt.
She still woke up drenched in sweat and whimpering from the nightmares of the times she hadn’t been able to find her way out.And that wasbeforeBlackworm had drugged the Black Hole Brides in his glass coffins.
Just thinking of it made her knees wobble, as if they were trying to turn her back toward the safety of her room where she could dive under the covers and no one would find her.
But no place in the universe was really safe; she’d figured that out early enough.
At least Blackworm was locked up tight in somegalactic prison, serving a life sentence for kidnapping, interfering with closed-world advancement, and illegal parking of a space station. She wasn’t sure which charge was the worst offense to the interstellar community, but maybe it didn’t matter as long as he never got out. She didn’t necessarily sleep better, but at least she slept.
Although last night, thinking of the captain had interferedmore than usual with her anxious slumber. That kiss…
She scowled to herself as she stomped in her slippers down the hall, the skirts of her bronze-hued Thorkon day gown swishing angrily around her ankles. That kiss was wrong. Sweet as caramel, heady as booze, and oh-so wrong. She’d told him to go away and he’d ignored her request. There were plenty of jerk guys on Earth, and for all the advancementson Azthronos, apparently there were jerk alien guys too. It bothered her.
Almost as much as her response bothered her.
Not the shooting part—that had been justified. But the fact she’d hesitated even a second before shooting at him. Why had she waited?
Just because it had been so long since she’d been kissed? And itwasa sweet kiss. Just a brush of his mouth over hers, really. As big as hewas, looming over her, the touch had been gentle, questing, only hintingly flavored with the ghost-mead he’d been drinking and whatever that caramel-flavored candy had been. Something deep inside her had perked up, roused by the promise contained in that kiss.
Wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. The kiss was wrong and wanting more of it was even wronger.
She stomped all the way to breakfast.
The estateseemed to her like the elegant all-inclusive cruises she’d read about in the backs of magazines during her breaks at the nail salon. Everyone dressed nice, everything was taken care of, and the food was really good whenever she wanted it. She wasn’t sure how long cruises lasted, and she definitely didn’t know when this dream would end, but she’d take advantage of it while she could.
Lishellewas already seated at one end of the long table in the sunlit dining room, reading something from a dat-pad. Her black curls, which she usually wore in tight knots, were teased out into a fuller style that emphasized the bold edges of her cheekbones. The filtered Azthronos sun that shone through the protective energy shield over the estate brought out a touch of gold on her dark skin which was enhancedby the bright geometric pattern on her Thorkon day gown. The sleeveless cut showed off the strong curves of her shoulders. She looked gorgeous—and badass.
Trixie scowled to herself. If Nor had tried to kiss Lishelle without her enthusiastic consent, he’d have lost his lips.
Or, if he’d been good enough, maybe Lishelle would’ve taken the pirate captain to her bed…
As if she sensed Trixie’sstare, the other woman looked up. The flash of her smile was quick and easy, and she patted the seat next to her.
Trixie nodded back and gestured to the side table where glass-domed serving trays waited then walked over to grab a plate.
When the estate had been overflowing with people attending the Black Hole Ball—to celebrate the Brides’ rescue, or so they said, but really she suspected theyjust liked to party—the room had been packed at every meal. But most of the guests and gawkers had gone home, wherever that was, and only the ducal family and the estate staff plus a few visitors remained. There were maybe a dozen people at the table, sitting in twos and threes, but they’d left a space around Lishelle.
Partly, Trixie suspected, that was because of Lishelle’s projected badassness,but probably also because she and Trixie were closed-world refugees, former abductees, and Black Hole Brides. She filled her plate with the strange alien foods she’d tried and decided she liked, and thenoohed when she saw a more familiar dish. She ladled up a small portion, just in case it was actually, like, alien snails or something.
She slipped into the chair beside Lishelle and bowed herhead for a moment before peeking up. “Is this…?”
“Buttermilk biscuits and country gravy.” The Southern twang in Lishelle’s voice deepened when she said it, and she nodded until Trixie took a bite and moaned with pleasure. “Gave Cook the recipe last night, and I tell you, she nailed it. She asked me for some other Earther dishes.” She grinned fiendishly. “I’m trying to find a Thorkon version ofgreens next. Any requests?”
Trixie shook her head as she tucked into the biscuit. “Whatever’s good with me.”
Lishelle watched her then sat back with a disapproving grunt.
“What?” Trixie was coming to recognize that look. “I said whatever.”
“You did. And I’ve been thinking.”
Yeah, that was exactly what Trixie had suspected from that narrow, dark-eyed stare. “Thinking what?”
“We’ve been herelong enough to want more than whatever.”
