“No!” Veral snarled, his vibrissae instinctively moving so viciously that the male in the screen stared at him with stunned horror. Although it was near useless since the male was not close enough to get further readings on, the overall result through the comm was at least satisfying.
He would permit no strangers upon his ship!
“But… our life support. We only have a few galactic standard hours left at most before it is completely gone. The ship is already miserably cold with the failing systems. How would you expect us to survive?”
Veral hissed in frustration. He wanted to tell the male that his capability for sustaining life was not his responsibility… but he also knew that Terri would not approve if he let the male freeze to death or asphyxiate when the life support failed. There was a good chance that she might not find out. Yet there was an equal probability that she would learn of it. If she learned of it, she would be extremely displeased that someone actually died. Maybe if he tried to explain to her that it was for her safety…
“Salvager, I really must insist…” the male interrupted, his chest puffing out in a show of bravado before his crew.
Veral glared at the male. “I am considering my options. Be silent.”
“Options?” the noble squeaked. He instantly deflated, his gold eyes widening to a ridiculous proportion.
Veral’s mandibles opened wide and returned to their resting position as he turned the matter over in his mind. He was aware of the way the male seemed to watch every movement.
No. Terri would not accept any excuse for the deaths of the Blaithari. He would have to allow them to board.
Rules. There would be many rules.
“Very well,” he snarled, his mandibles snapping loud enough to make every male in the viewscreen jump. “Prepare to dock with the salvager. Once you enter the cargo hold, do not venture into the ship without permission. I will meet with you there shortly.”
“Yes, of course,” the male said quickly.
Veral did not wait for any other needless conversation. He terminated the comm signal and left the flight deck. The Blaitharis could wait until after he spoke to Terri. She was not going to like what he was about to propose.
It took him considerably less time than his mate to stride down the corridors to their room, his mind interfacing with the ship to unlock the doors minutes before his arrival. They slid open at his approach, and Veral purred as his mate looked up from where she lay stretched over the bed. She wore soft, loose clothes that clung to every curve, the line of her breast enticing him. His purr became louder, and Terri’s brows drew up as she trailed a teasing hand down her belly. Although he did not arrive with copulation on his mind, his desire surged to the fore at the sight that greeted him.
Aggression stirred within him at the thought of the males close by—too close to his private dwelling where he and his mate slept. He was filled with an instinctive drive to fill the ship with the stink of their pheromones so the males had no doubt as to whose territory they were in.
“What happened?” Terri asked, her voice soft with concern.
“Stranded travelers,” he grunted as he drew nearer to her.
Dropping down onto the bed beside her, he nuzzled her soft hair, his vibrissae twining through the strands. A hand stole up her belly, brushing her fingers out of his path as he leaned into his mate, his desire roaring. His civix—or cock as his mate called it—strained against its fleshy pouch, eager to be released. It took so little for his small mate to stoke his passions.
Terri captured his wandering hand and frowned. “That wasn’t very long ago. Where are they?”
“Waiting in the cargo hold,” he replied as he leaned down to stroke both of his long tongues down into the waistband of the pants she wore, his nose nudging lower.
“Oh, okay, good,” she rasped as his tongues found the soft, hot little place between her thighs. He growled at the taste of his mate, and then snarled as she jerked out from underneath him. “Wait… They’re in the cargo hold, the one you don’t bother to heat since we don’t transport livestock—that cargo hold?”
Veral growled, his sex straining impatiently. “I increased the heat to livable levels. They will not die before I arrive.”
“We are not fucking while you just leave them waiting on you,” she snapped as she moved out from beneath him. “That’s just weird.”
Though he hissed with frustration, he drew up from the bed reluctantly. He had no house to give for her to rule, as was the custom of the Argurma, but still, he would follow her lead on issues pertaining to their home and family. If she insisted on immediate hospitality toward their “guests,” then he would see to it as long as it did not interfere with her safety.
His instinctive impulse to cover the ship in fresh layers of his scent would have to be ignored.
Pushing himself from the bed, he stalked toward the door. He froze, however, when he saw that Terri was following close behind. Stopping in front of the door, he turned toward her, his arms crossed over his chest.
“It is necessary to discuss rules before I leave.”
“Rules?” she asked, her nose wrinkling in confusion.
“Yes, rules. Over the course of the four-day journey to Janilik, you will keep to our quarters as much as possible. If you need to be out in the ship, you will wear the shafna. The robe is large enough to conceal most of you. Be certain to keep the hood up and to not get close to any of them. And keep the door locked. Do not answer to anyone. They will be able to scent your presence on the ship, and I do not trust them to not attempt to gain entry to the room.”
Terri mimicked his pose, her own arms drawing across her chest. “I guess that I wait here while you go to the hold? And lucky me, I get to stay here for the rest of the day as well. I hope they plan on paying us for our hospitality if I’m getting locked in our room.”
He drew his hand against her hair, down to cup her cheek in his palm. “I will be sure to exact a fair price for the inconvenience. Do not be angered, anastha. It is for your safety. You are too precious for me to dare to risk.”
Her pale brown eyes softened, and she sighed. “Oh, all right, I’ll wait here. I’m not going to be happy about it, but I will stay.”
“Krono will keep you company.”
Her lips quirked. “That’s a given. I think sometimes you find Krono a more dependable barrier than the door.”
A smile pulled at his own mouth. She was not wrong. Brushing his lips and mandibles against her brow, he exited the room, once more securing the locks behind him. At least his stop at his quarters served a purpose. He was once again calm.
Or so he thought, until he entered the cargo hold. Rage rattled through him as he observed Egbor sniffing at the air, his pink scales flushed brilliant red with the sexual interest that sullied his cargo hold. Cold, hard fury slammed through Veral as a snarl escaped his throat, his vibrissae rattling menacingly around him. The male was so caught up in Terri’s scent that he did not seem to notice. Instead, he moaned with delight.
“This scent! You have a female on board—a most exquisite one. I will double any credits you require if you allow me to honor you by requesting her company during our travel.”
Veral stared at the male, his muscles quivering with restrained anger.
“Honor… me…?” he asked, menace dripping from each word.
“Oh, yes, it is considered an honor when an heir of a noble house requests the company of a commoner’s mate. It is not only our right per our divine lineage, but it blesses their home with great fecundity. I would be most happy to bestow this blessing. In fact, my galari is eager to impart its duties. If you will just show me to my chamber and escort her…”
Drawing back his fist, Veral restrained himself enough only to knock the male unconscious. He wanted to do far more damage, but with the way the other males cowered around their fallen noble, he considered well enough done. His mandibles clicked in anger. And she wonders why I keep her away from other males. Everything about her was exotic and
unknown. It unfailingly attracted the wrong kind of attention. He would not tolerate the disrespect being shown toward her. Not by space station vermin, and not by foul nobles flaunting their privilege and wealth.
No one was going to touch his anastha.
“Pick that thing up,” he snapped at them, gratified when they complied.
Within minutes, he had the entire group secured within two of the crew cabins with strict instructions when it came to what parts of the corridor were off limits. The males bobbed their heads in quick agreement. He had no doubt that they would follow orders. His eyes narrowed on the unconscious male before pointing one claw at his prone form.
“Keep that male away from my quarters and my mate or I will make certain that his galari cannot bless another female again,” he growled.
Without another word, he stalked from the room, his vibrissae snapping around him with hissing rattles as he prowled back toward the flight deck.
The sooner he offloaded his “guests,” the less likely he would kill Egbor.
He smiled at the thought of the male’s blood and entrails falling from his fingers and allowed himself to enjoy the visual for a moment before banishing it to the recesses of his mind. As long as the male followed his directions, that would never happen. The males accompanying the noble better pray that their leader was not so foolish.
3
Veral did not trust the males. His hands came down on the controls as he watched them shuffling through the corridors of his ship. Although they stayed well away from the quarters he shared with his mate, these guests were being far too free with his ship. When he had approached Egbor about it, with a demand that it stop, the infuriating male had shrugged and said that Blaithari required regular exercise and he would not be sequestered in his room like livestock.
Veral seethed with the analogy, unable to stop from comparing the statement to his mate’s own miserable confinement. It made him bristle even more, his vibrissae churning around him, taking in the male’s exact distance to effectively strike as he made his displeasure known.
This ship was property of his mate by Argurma tradition. She should be wandering through it freely. Not them.
He bristled as one of the males sniffed curiously in the hall just as the door to the flight deck slid open. Turning a disgusted look on Egbor as the pompous male leisurely strolled in, Veral huffed and returned his full attention to the male in the security vid running behind his eyes.
“I have never been in a salvaging ship before,” the male announced politely as he narrowed his eyes at one of the downsized schematics.
Veral whisked it away with a thought and frowned at the male. He did not find curiosity to be a virtue or tolerable in most individuals. Where it was delightful in his mate, in everyone else, he found it intrusive.
“What do you want?” Veral demanded.
“Want? Nothing at all. It is so taxing remaining in my quarters all the time, as you know, and I had not yet seen this part of the ship… and now here I am. So tell me, what additions does a salvaging ship have compared to other spacecrafts?”
“None,” Veral replied, willing to tell the male what he wanted to know if it would get rid of him. “It can be modified to haul ships when necessary, but the ship itself is a means of transportation with an upgraded reinforcement. The strength of a salvage is dependent on the training of those doing the work.”
“On the salvagers themselves? Oh my, that does sound taxing, but certainly puts things into perspective as to why males of your skills are so valuable.” His lips pursed thoughtfully. “How much longer until we arrive at Janilik?”
“Eighteen standard galactic hours,” Veral grumbled.
It could not be soon enough for his comfort.
Egbor sighed. “I do not suppose you can increase your speed? I am running very late. This delay is inconvenient enough as it is.”
“The ship is going at maximum drive speed. Anything faster could not be maintained for long distances without potential damage to the ship.”
“I could compensate you generously for the costs…”
“No,” Veral snarled, terminating the conversation with that one word.
“You really are a most disagreeable male. Is this typical of your species, or do you strive to be unpleasant and difficult in general?”
“The Argurma do not care what outsiders think, so we make no special effort to be either agreeable or disagreeable,” Veral said coolly before flashing the male a hard smile, baring his sharp teeth in a manner that disturbed most other beings. “That you find it personally offensive is merely a detail that I individually savor.”
“Well,” the Blaithari huffed indignantly, “I shall retire to my quarters then with a cup of orshan tea.”
Veral curled his lip but did not reply. Instead, he watched the male, tracking him with his eyes as well as the vids throughout the ship as the Blaithari flounced back to his quarters. He stopped at the corridor junction to stare down toward the room where Terri was hidden before resuming his irritated pace of the remaining distance to his quarters. Moments later, one of his attendants scurried out to the galley, filling plates and replicating a pot of tea that he hastened back to his master’s quarters.
Though he watched for considerable time, the males did not emerge again until a single attendant rushed back to the galley with the dishes to wash and store for the next meal period. After the conclusion of their meal, he noted that one would slip out every so often to pace up and down the corridors. They often took breaks to stare out the viewing ports scattered along their route, and they never failed to miss the port just within the junction that led to Terri.
There was a certain purposeful stillness to them as they looked out the ports that Veral did not like. It was as if they were intentionally positioning themselves at regular intervals close to his mate as if he would not notice if repeated. If that was their intent, they failed. Instead of shrugging off the repeated behavior, it made him increasingly anxious of the distance between himself and his mate.
Unable to stand the torment of separation a moment longer, his entire body vibrating with territorial aggression, he left the flight deck. His mandibles clicked and a low growl churned continuously in his throat. He hoped to meet with one of the males as he made his way to his quarters. He would relish the opportunity to strike terror of promised pain upon them. Unfortunately, the male who had been lingering at the junction returned his master’s quarters moments before Veral arrived. His eyes narrowed at their noted absence before striding into his cabin, his vibrissae hissing around him.
Terri looked up from where she was sprawled across their bed with a datapad clenched in her hands. Her eyebrows winged up. As he stood there, his eyes fastened on his female, his entire body wound tight with aggression.
There was no fear within his little mate, however. As he stalked toward her, he scented her desire bloom and ripen as he drew closer. The protective menace he projected seduced his mate and sharpened her arousal almost as much as it would have done had she been Argurma. He needed that acceptance while the whole of him burned to mark his mate thoroughly. Her breath came out in a sharp gasp of pleasure when he stopped just in front of her only to reach down and grip her thighs. With one smooth move, he lifted her up and tossed her gently further back on the bed.
He did not wait to follow. With a press of his finger twice in rapid successions against the high collar of his suit, it promptly split open and slid off his body to pool at his feet. Stepping free of his suit, his civix stirred and slid free from his genital pouch. The long shaft writhed and twisted eagerly as the hooked head sought his mate’s entrance, the narrow tubes running up its length dripping with a steady flow of lubricant.
Veral’s back bowed as he fisted his civix with a rough snarl. Eyes dragging back up to his mate’s expectant gaze, he climbed over her body eagerly. His female was equally aroused, and she held her arms out for him, her thighs opening to accept the girth of his heavily muscled body.
> As his hands and vibrissae skimmed over her, he drank in the flush of her skin and the heat of desire in her arms. His civix coiled against the lush petals of her sex and Terri hissed, her hips jerking up against him. A needy sound escaped her throat, but he stroked himself over the mouth of her cunt, allowing his fluids to coat and smear against the flesh, working his pheromones deeper into her skin until finally, with a driving snap of his civix, the head buried deep within her, the small hook brushing against her sensitive spots.
Terri’s cry filled his ear as he pressed his face against hers, his mandibles sliding open wide to brush possessively against her throat, grazing the sensitive skin there. In reaction, his mate trembled, her sex reflexively squeezing around his as he snarled and fought against her grip with ecstatic jerks of his civix within her.
Every time the sensitive hook brushed against and became gently caught in the soft, wet grip of her channel, it made his testicles draw tighter and a tiny spurt of seed escape as a small orgasm swept through him. Every gentle tug against his sex as he thrust powerfully into her, his civix writhing, driving in and out of her, tightened the pressure within him. His body shook, and he stroked his tongues against her shoulder, needing just a little more.
He needed everything from his female.
His testicles drew up tight again, and with a hiss, he tore from her body only long enough to flip her over onto her belly. His claws latching onto her hips, he made a loud growl of pleasure when she responded by lifting her ass up higher, presenting the wet, dripping folds of her cunt open for him. He buried himself within her once again, his grunts and pants joining her soft gasps and moans.
He felt the ripples of her sex caressing him, drawing him in deeper, squeezing his civix. He felt the hook extend just enough so that it clung to the soft, spongy tissue at the mouth of her womb. The sensation tugged from deep within him at the same moment that his mate convulsed, her cunt gripping him as she screamed, sending him barreling into his own climax that ripped out as a ragged roar from his throat.
Pirate's Gold (Argurma Salvager Book 2) Page 3