Resisting Tamaki

by Shelley Munro

  A Luxor squared his shoulders, the bristly tentacles around his face stirring to attract her attention. “Two vrooms. On the ice.”

  She grabbed two flasks from the chiller and poured them into silver goblets. She added several lumps of violet crackle ice. Immediately, the drinks turned crimson red and simmered with lots of tiny bubbles. She shoved them across the bar at the Luxor male.

  “Do you know what’s on the next floor?” she asked Melad, the other bartender.

  “No idea. I haven’t been here much longer than you.” Melad tossed her bald head. It should have looked ridiculous but the petite female made the action seem surprisingly sensual.

  Cimmaron shook herself at the thought and bit back a purr. She was starting to see sex everywhere. Phrull, she had to find some preventer pills tomorrow.

  Cimmaron cleared her throat. “Aren’t you curious?”

  Melad paused and shook her head. “No.”

  A hand reached over the bar and cupped her breast before she had a chance to move. “Hoy, six flasks of vroom.”

  “Take your hand off me.”

  When he merely laughed and squeezed harder, she slapped his hand. Once free of his slimy touch, she backhanded him hard enough to snap his head back. His arm swept across the bar when he moved, catching the drinks belonging to the group beside him. A blue venetian cocktail splattered across the ritzy white outfit of a plump Trateck female. Her shriek of outrage was high-pitched and endless. It hurt Cimmaron’s ears. The next microt, all hell broke loose. Cimmaron stood back and watched with bemusement. The Trateck female sprang at the male with the wandering hands, her face turning a bright yellow. Her ears stiffened, transforming from soft and floppy to sharp weapons. Before she could strike, the Trateck tripped over a stool, knocking over more drinks and upsetting other customers. Fists flew. Chairs crashed to the floor and tables overturned. The security guards came running as more customers joined the skirmish.

  “What happened?” Hulk demanded over his shoulder as he separated two brawling Luxors using brute force.

  “He groped me,” Cimmaron said, pointing at the culprit.

  “So you hit back,” Hulk said in disgust. “Why didn’t you call security? That’s what we’re here for.” When the Luxors resisted, he knocked their heads together. They crumpled in a heap without making another move.

  Two worker droids made soft, whirring sounds as they restored order, picking up chairs, broken goblets and flasks and righting tables.

  Hulk stood back, his arms folded across his chest as he watched. With order reinstated, he turned to Cimmaron with a sneer. “If you do that again, you’re out.”

  Cimmaron lifted her hand to her forehead in a snappy salute. “Yes sir.” She scowled at his back when he strode away to do more security guard-type things. She served a waiting Marchant female and her tipsy companions.

  “Cimmaron, two reebs for my friends here,” Rico said, indicating the dark-skinned male and female standing at his side. They bore tattoos on their faces, the scarring white against the darkness of their skin. Cimmaron wasn’t sure what planet they hailed from, but they were attractive specimens. She grabbed the bottles of amber-colored reeb from the back of the chiller, popped the lids and handed them over. “Would you like goblets?”

  “There are goblets in the room,” Rico inserted smoothly. “If you require anything else, use the bar upstairs.”

  The male nodded abruptly.

  Cimmaron frowned. They were going upstairs? She scrutinized them carefully. They were obviously a couple. She sensed the current of awareness zapping between them, and her acute senses picked up the musky scent of arousal.

  The male carried the two bottles of reeb and ushered the female through the crowd of clubbers. Cimmaron watched as they climbed the spiral stairs. At the top, she caught a flash of a security guard before everyone disappeared from sight.

  “What’s upstairs?” she asked Rico.

  “Customer is waiting,” Rico said, indicating the Luxor at the bar and ignoring her question.

  Frustration curled through her, mixing with the slow burn of arousal. Phrull! Cimmaron took the customer’s order and served several others—male and female from many different planets. She was the only Dlog, but then that was to be expected. A sliver of loneliness mixed with the lump of tension in the pit of her stomach. Her hand trembled slightly when she reached for a flask of vroom. She curled her hand into a fist then slowly uncurled her fingers, exhaling with relief when the shaking didn’t reoccur. Phrull, she had to buy pills somehow, or steal them as a last resort. Her sense of smell was becoming more acute. The sexual musk in the air was playing hell with her libido and the tremors had commenced. Add Tamaki Grierson into the mix and she was in big trouble.

  * * * * *

  “The new barmaid was asking questions about upstairs.” Clear disapproval shaded Rico’s words, and he underlined it with a scowl.

  “She’s good behind the bar,” Tamaki said. “The customers seem to like her.” It was true.

  “When they’re not trying to grab her tits. The security guards had to step in when she hit a Luxor male and created an all-out brawl.”

  Tamaki chuckled. “She’s feisty.”

  Rico sighed. “Remember the rules against involvement with the staff.”

  “I’m not involved with her,” Tamaki said, but once again honesty made him admit he’d like to have an up close and personal relationship with the golden woman. “Besides, she doesn’t have clearance to the rooms upstairs. She won’t get up there without being turned back by security.”

  “Perhaps I should remind her she’s here to serve drinks. That’s what she’s paid for,” Rico said.

  “Give her a break. You’re pissed because Marianna is ignoring you. You need—”

  “Don’t say it,” Rico snapped.

  “Sorry.” Tamaki patted his friend’s shoulder in a conciliatory manner. He’d never seen Rico tied up in knots like this by a woman before. “Why don’t you ask her out?”

  Rico’s shoulders slumped. “She said no.”

  “Did she give a reason?”

  “She didn’t want to harm her good reputation by being seen with me.”

  Tamaki couldn’t prevent a snort. The administrative council of Marchant didn’t mind taking their rental or the increased currency the club brought to the planet in the way of taxes. Previously, Marchant had been a trading planet where travelers stayed overnight at most before moving on. The club gates brought new travelers to the planet. Tourists. “Maybe you should give up on her? There are plenty of other females.”

  “I don’t want another female.” Rico nailed him with a stormy glare. “Just like you aren’t going to phrullin’ listen to me about the Dlog female. You know you’re going to have her, despite the club rules.”

  “No.” Tamaki shook his head, enforcing his words, but phrull, he was tempted.

  * * * * *

  It was late morn by the time Cimmaron wandered downstairs to break her fast. Tamaki had thought she would never appear. He chatted with Lissa while he waited for her, enjoying his visit even though he was eager to see Cimmaron.

  Tamaki caught a glimpse of her when she paused at the base of the stairs to press a hand to her stomach. Her chest rose and fell before she made her way to the refreshment area.

  “Ah, Cimmaron. You have risen from your rest. You have a visitor.”

  “But I don’t know anyone here.” Cimmaron entered Lissa’s receiving room, stopping just inside the door.

  “Good morn, Cimmaron,” he said.

  “You.”

  Tamaki wanted to laugh at the dismay on her face. If anyone should worry about his visit, it should be him. He was breaking every single one of his personal rules along with the club rules by being here, yet he couldn’t seem to help it. He’d woken this morn with Cimmaron on his mind. He’d even come up with a decent excuse for visiting. Yep, no doubt about it. He had a bad thing for the Dlog female.

  “What are you doing here?”
She didn’t move from her spot just inside the doorway.

  They both ignored Lissa’s gasp of shock at Cimmaron’s bluntness.

  “It occurred to me you might need an advance on your wages,” he said, trotting out his excuse without pause. He could lie with the best of them.

  She swallowed, appearing distinctly nervous, even though she had no reason. “Okay. Thanks.” She glanced at Lissa before casting another uneasy look at him. “Can you tell me where the nearest apothecary is located?”

  “Are you ill?” Concern filled him. She didn’t seem weak or display any symptoms he could construe as illness.

  “I… No, I’m not ill,” she said.

  So why did she need an apothecary?

  “There’s one quite near the spaceport in one of the lanes. It’s not a particularly good area.” Lissa’s brows drew together in doubt.

  “I know where it is. I’ll escort her.”

  “That would set my mind at rest,” Lissa said. “Would you like some Marchant ale, luv? The servant is making a batch for us now.”

  “I don’t require an escort.”

  “I promise not to bite,” Tamaki said. “Lissa will vouch for me.” He didn’t bite this early in the morn. His gaze drifted across her face and wandered lower to skirt her breasts. Damn, but he could change his normal practices. The uniform she’d worn at work had given him a fair idea of the areas he’d like to nibble first.

  Lissa shot him a reproving look. “Tamaki, really.”

  His grin widened. “I forgot you read minds for an instant.”

  Lissa gave a haughty sniff. “Believe me, I’m trying to block your thoughts.”

  “Can you read mine?” That was clear horror on Cimmaron’s beautiful face, making Tamaki wonder at the secrets she harbored. There was something…big. Had she told the truth about her stranding? Tamaki dredged up her explanation and shook his head. No, she’d been so indignant and visibly upset during the job interview. There must be something else.

  “I haven’t tried to read your mind, luv,” Lissa said with quiet dignity. “For one, it would be very rude, and secondly, I never read a being’s mind without permission. Tamaki’s thoughts were so strong they battered down my guards. It won’t happen again.”

  The servant arrived with a tray of ale. The spicy scent was rich and intoxicating, reminding him of the mulled wine his mother used to make during the middle of an Earth winter. The servant set the tray on a low metal table and silently padded from the receiving room. Lissa poured the steaming ale into three jeweled goblets.

  Tamaki leaned back on the padded divan and idly scanned the hangings on the walls. Because they were old, the colors had faded, but they told an interesting story of Marchant’s history and the battles fought to gain freedom from the Orkane.

  “Luv, take a seat beside Tamaki,” Lissa said.

  Tamaki purposely kept his gaze on his surroundings, and the images of mountains and lakes etched into the doors of a tall chest sitting against the nearest wall.

  He heard the squeak of Cimmaron’s boots on the hardboard floor, the confident footsteps as she crossed the room to sit beside him. She claimed the far corner of the divan, sitting as far from him as possible. That wouldn’t last for long. Like many of the items in Lissa’s reception room, it was old. The roll-together factor would have them sitting closely and probably touching in no time. Tamaki stretched, raising his hands above his head in an indolent move. When he resettled, they were much closer. He could smell her—an attractive scent not unlike the sea on a fresh day. His cock drew up, tightening beneath his trews. Last night’s kiss hadn’t been nearly enough. To hell with Rico’s objections about fraternization, and to hell with the club rules. Something propelled him onward. Cimmaron hadn’t objected to his kiss last night, and if she continued to be of the same mind, he was going to make his move.

  She inched back toward the end of the divan, but Tamaki wasn’t having that. He stood to accept a goblet from Lissa and handed it to Cimmaron. With both hands holding the goblet, she’d end up toward the middle of the divan. Grinning inwardly, Tamaki took a second goblet and sat beside her again. Their shoulders brushed as did their hips and thighs. A gust of air whooshed from between her lips. She shivered, a full-body tremor that jiggled her breasts and made him want to groan. He didn’t know what it was about this female, but he had never been with anyone who turned him on so quickly with a look, a soft touch and scent.

  Tamaki cleared his throat. “Do you like the ale?”

  “It’s very good.” Cimmaron’s voice emerged as a low, sexy drawl.

  He glanced up, intercepting Lissa’s look of worry. It made him wonder if she’d told the truth about reading Cimmaron’s mind. The older woman had an insatiable curiosity when it came to her lodgers. He and Rico had stayed with Lissa when they’d been setting up the club.

  Cimmaron rubbed against him, letting out a soft purr. “I’ve never tasted hot ale before.”

  Tamaki frowned when she brushed against him again. He didn’t want her drunk! He wanted a lover who was fully conscious and taking part because she wanted to spend time with him.

  “Perhaps you should take Cimmaron to the apothecary now.” Lissa stood. “She doesn’t appear well.”

  Tamaki wouldn’t go as far as to say that. Her skin shone in the golden hues he found extremely attractive, and she was touching him willingly. She actually seemed to be enjoying it too.

  Cimmaron heard herself panting like a canine and knew she had to get to an apothecary now. “Which way do I go?” She stood and forced the words out with difficulty. They came out in a slur. Her body swayed. It was hard to concentrate when all she wanted to do was undulate against Tamaki’s hard body and purr like a feline.

  “I’ll take you.” Tamaki touched her arm and it felt as if she’d received a shot from a ray gun. The current simmered inside her body, jolting nerve endings that were already wired and ready for action. Her nipples rubbed against her bindings, intensifying the reaction in her sensitized body. Cimmaron forced her legs to move and almost groaned out loud at the exquisite sensation of fabric rubbing against her moist flesh.

  “Hurry,” she pleaded, desperate to get to an apothecary before she attempted to jump Tamaki. Why him? Why now after all she’d been through to escape her heritage? She wanted to cry yet knew weeping wouldn’t help one bit.

  “Don’t let any other male near her. Stay with her. Don’t even leave her alone with the apothecary. Promise me,” Lissa demanded of Tamaki.

  Cimmaron fought the hormonal surge inside her body, silently cursing the captain of the Intrepid and every other male of her acquaintance. It wasn’t phrullin’ fair she should crave a male’s touch so badly when all she wanted was to do her job and pilot ships.

  Tamaki supported her weight the entire trip to the apothecary, helping her negotiate the pedestrians thronging the marketplace while she fought the demons inside her mind. Her breasts ached and each step was pure torture. Tamaki wrapped his arm around her waist, pressing her to his side. Her lips grazed the warm skin in the V of his black shirt, his green, spicy scent sending a series of shockwaves skipping through her body. He never hesitated, propelling her along, guiding her down one narrow lane after another.

  Heat engulfed her body, and beads of sweat formed on her forehead. Images of two naked bodies writhing together formed in her mind. Tamaki. Her. A loud purr erupted, and the heat in her body intensified. Her entire body tingled on the cusp of orgasm. Suddenly, she didn’t care about pills, about captaining a ship of her own or maintaining her independence. All she cared about was ripping off her clothes and forcing Tamaki to thrust his cock deep inside her pussy.

  Chapter Four

  Tamaki had no idea what ailed her, but he was seriously worried. She kept rubbing against him and purring like a cat. Normally he’d have enjoyed the closeness and worked on taking it further, but it was obvious there was something wrong with her. He was hoping the apothecary would know the cause and have a cure available. Tamaki h
alf carried her down the lane and shouldered his way into the shop.

  It was so crowded with stock there wasn’t enough room for more than two beings inside. Jars of mystery items lined the walls. Layers of dust covered every surface, giving the shop a musty, unloved appearance. It didn’t smell much better, reminding him of the stench of tomcat’s piss.

  “Hello?” Tamaki hoped Lissa knew what she was doing sending them here.

  Scuffling came from a room out the back. The sound drew nearer until a stooped male dressed in a khaki green robe shuffled behind the battered counter. “Canna help ya?” He slurred his words together, sounding rusty, as if he didn’t speak very often.

  Here, Tamaki was at a loss. He didn’t know what was wrong with Cimmaron. A quick glance confirmed she wasn’t in any condition to answer a series of questions. Perhaps if he described her symptoms. “She seems hot and keeps rubbing against me. She’s purring like a cat.”

  The male shuffled from behind the counter and peered closely at Cimmaron. He poked her golden arm with one forefinger. “Dlog.”

  “Yes, she’s a Dlog.”

  The male limped over to a pile of jars and unerringly picked up one from the dozens. He shook it before tugging off the lid. A grunt emerged. “Six left.” He limped back to Tamaki. “Pay first.”

  “How much?”

  “One thousand credits.”

  “One—”

  “Take or leave,” the male said.

  Cimmaron shuddered before rubbing her full breasts across his chest. A soft flush highlighted her cheeks, and when she opened her eyes, they were pure gold. “Kiss me,” she purred.

  Oh, he wanted to, but there was something wrong with this picture. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “Dlog female must mate. Go on heat. Pills stop.”

  Tamaki studied Cimmaron in new light. She lay weak and compliant in his arms, quite unlike the female who’d strutted into his bar with real attitude and took no-nonsense from anyone. The golden glow was the flush of sexual arousal, not a fever or illness. “Are the rumors true? If a Dlog female has sex with a male they’re mated for life?”