The roo gang paused, most of them looking toward one, slightly taller roo. Their leader.
Kyle checked to make sure the blaster was set on stun. No reason to actually kill the poor creatures. He shot the two roos closest to him then leveled the handgun at the roo leader. “Do you wish a gift of magic or the wrath of the gods?”
The roo leader took a step back. “Cows don’t gots magic. If you gives us your magics, we eats the cows instead.”
Logic of a sort. The Core Worlds’ scientists would be impressed with this advancement. Roos had evolved on Earth at an exceptional rate since the nuclear accident that created them. The creatures were known to be unpredictable, sometimes violent, and incredibly strong.
“Then come with us.” Keeping the roo leader in his peripheral vision, he turned toward the woman behind him.
Sunlight sparkled off emerald eyes framed by long, brunette locks. Her gaze roamed down then back up his body, stopping halfway. Gods, was she checking out his privates? At a time like this?
Who the hell was she?
Someone who belongs behind bars. But right then Kyle needed her cooperation.
Lowering his voice, he strode past her. “I hope you have a ship or base close by.” He needed a place to collect himself and discover what the heck was happening. “If so, you’d best lead me to it, if you don’t want to become roo stew.”
There was still a good chance the roos would turn on them, and one blaster wouldn’t be enough firepower to keep them at bay.
The woman nodded. “Th-This way.”
Okay, she was either misinformed, or this guy had another issue needing attention. She hadn’t seen that many guys naked, but the God of Thunder was either really big down there, or malformed. In any case, she’d need to do a little research before they got intimate.
Would that thing even fit?
I’m jumping the gun a little bit. He hadn’t even fallen in love with her yet. He would, wouldn’t he? Eventually? That was the promise. That was the magic.
Wasn’t it?
Gods, she didn’t even believe in magic. What the hell was she doing?
Still, it had worked, in a way. Mr. Hunky Chunky had just saved her ass from a roo gang. If they were going to get out of this alive, she’d better do her part and take him to the ship.
Then she could worry about happily ever after . . .
Kyle followed the girl down the hill and across a grassy plain. The roo gang trailed them at a respectable distance. Ahead, dark smoke billowed up from behind a grassy hillock. She’d left a campfire burning? Or did she have friends here?
Best to start building bridges. “My name’s Kyle Kepler, what’s yours?”
Keep it friendly for now. He’d arrest her later, once he’d taken control of the situation. At least she hadn’t asked for her blaster back, not that she’d have gotten it.
“Zana. Zana Starchild. And I’m really sorry for all this. It isn’t my fault.”
Yeah, sure. It wasn’t the first time a criminal had tried to weasel out of something when Kyle had them dead to rights. The roos meant this was Old Earth, a planet no one was allowed to set foot on, in a system people weren’t even allowed to enter. Just on the surface, this woman had broken more laws than Kyle could count.
She had an exotic, lilting accent that hinted at rim world origin. Her clothing had a homespun feel, certainly not Core Worlds’ high fashion or popular current trends. It all pointed toward one inevitable conclusion.
Gods, a rim rat.
Rim world colonists tended to view galactic law as mere suggestions, easily discarded when not convenient to their current situation. She’d certainly ignored the laws restricting starflight to or through Old Earth’s solar system. This arrest report would be long, but oh so worth it.
Though to be honest, the galactic Core Worlds viewed the rim as the wilderness of space anyway. Rim rats were usually free to do whatever they pleased, as long as none of the Core Worlds were affected. Galactic Marshals rarely even patrolled the outer sectors. However, they did respond to emergency claxons.
In any case, this infraction couldn’t be ignored, as Old Earth was most definitely under the Core Worlds jurisdiction. Since the timber culling fiasco, the Old Earth system had been interdicted to let the court system sort out the myriad of lawsuits and to make sure the roos were free to evolve here without further human interference. The planet had been left to the roos.
So, why was she here?
He found the gentle sway of her hips mesmerizing as she led him across the grasslands. Clothing tight enough to suggest some sexy curves had his body reacting on a visceral level and his cock begging to stand at rigid attention. He had to fight just to keep it at half-mast.
Just don’t turn around, lady.
As they crested the hill, a shipwreck came into view. An ancient TRS-90 quinjet. Black, greasy smoke billowed up out of the afterburners, and the craft listed to one side on a crumpled landing strut.
“You came here in that thing?” She was either very brave, or very stupid.
Zana shrugged. “It’s not much, but it’s all we had.”
“We?” He brought the blaster up. “There are more of you here?”
“No. I’m alone.” She waved her hand to the side. “I meant my tribe back home.”
A hint of desperation colored her tone.
There was a story here. One he planned to make her tell him, just as soon as he appeased the roos, washed the aggravating shampoo out of his hair, and found a pair of pants. Or maybe the pants should come first?
Well, it wasn’t the first time he’d had to operate in a hostile environment naked. Working undercover put him in a plethora of uncomfortable and inconvenient situations. He’d long since lost his modesty.
He didn’t have a clue on how to mollify the roos. He’d hoped to make a quick getaway.
Fat chance of that.
From the looks of the ship, they weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.
He started compiling a mental priorities list. Securing an escape from the planet was his first order of business. Appeasing the roos could wait a bit, if he could find some sanctuary inside the ship, but not long. Locating a pair of pants kept slipping down the list.
First priorities first.
With a beautiful woman like Zana close at hand, walking around naked was going to be a challenge. He needed to lock down his emotions and feelings, and make it look like she didn’t affect him.
I’m a trained undercover operative. I just need to sell it.
He’d also need to sell it to himself.
Chapter 3
As Zana scuttled aboard her ship, Mr. Hunky Buns turned to address the roos gathered around the boarding ramp.
“I must consult the star gods on what magics to bestow upon you.” His deep baritone echoed in the silence. The roos stood in rapt attention at the bottom of the ramp. “Wait here. We will return shortly.”
They’re buying it. Mr. Amazing Ass had the soul of a used tractor salesman.
She cast one longing look at his magnificent backside. Gods, he seemed so comfortable standing naked in front of the whole world. He had to be some kind of naturalist. Well, she certainly didn’t mind the view.
She backed up the ramp, through the hatchway, keeping her eye right where it wanted to roam.
Mischief played in the back of her mind. What would he do if she shut the door behind her, leaving him trapped outside with the roo gang?
Not that she’d do that. He was, after all, the father of her future children, but the thought did cross her mind.
Her mouth dried as another thought crossed her mind. Future children? That meant . . .
He turned and followed after her, his baby-maker bouncing with each step he took. Closing the hatch behind him, he
pinned her with a hard stare, drawing her gaze up to his eyes. “Okay, what have you got? A talking toy, some kind of light up doodad, anything mundane that lights up or makes sounds. The roos are primitives. Barely using sticks and stones as tools. Any technology will seem magical to them.”
“There’s a tree out there that is magical.” It had brought him to her. I do believe. I really do believe.
“We’ll talk about your magic tree later.” His gaze swept the damaged command deck of the ship.
He didn’t believe. Well, she couldn’t blame him. “Why do we have to give them something of mine? Hell, there’s not much here worth having.”
He spread his arms wide. The impressive appendage between his firm thighs wiggled in a really enticing way, bouncing up toward her before slowly easing back down. “It’s not like I brought anything along with me to give them. And unless this ship can launch, they’ll be waiting for us out there the next time we exit. The sooner we mollify them, the sooner we’ll be rid of them.”
Good point. Focus. Her eyes locked right on his cock. No, not there. She kept getting distracted.
She forced her gaze away, and it landed on another long, thick, cylindrical object. “How about this?”
She held up a solar lantern, one of the few items still working on the ship. She flipped the switch and the star-powered rod shone a bright ray of light out the end.
He took the lantern from her hand. “Perfect.”
With much effort, she forced her gaze up into his eyes.
He had nice eyes. Kind of a glisten-y brown. Like fresh baked bread crust, with melted butter just drizzled over it.
Her tribe still had a bit of milled wheat flour left for breads, thank the gods, but she sure missed butter. That had run out a month ago.
“Where are you from?” His tone was an inquiry, not an accusation.
“Konga 10, a low-tech agrarian planet at the tip of the Scutum-Centaurus Arm.” It wasn’t much of a planet by galactic standards, mostly water and ice. Still, it was home and all the world she’d known before today.
Her tribe had acquired and settled on Konga 10 over a hundred years earlier, backteching to a mid-twenty-first century lifestyle, and forsaking modern convenience and advanced technology for a more placid, agrarian way of life. The planet had been lifeless. They’d brought in all the flora and fauna, field crops and domesticated farm animals mostly, terraforming the world to their liking.
They created some forestlands, and seeded only the insects, grubs, and microorganisms necessary for their pastoral lifestyle.
Over one hundred years of peaceful existence, away from the rest of the galaxy. No spaceflight or connections to other worlds. Placid and productive, their little stretch of habitable land at the equator offered everything her tribe needed. Or at least it did, until the fucking Halocyne Clan popped out of hyperspace to steal their livestock and field crops.
“Whoa, you live way out there? I didn’t realize there were settlements out that far.”
An eight-legged crawler skidded out from under the control console and across the floor. She stomped it with her boot. “So, where are you from?”
He had one of those sexy Core Worlds’ accents. That, combined with his deep baritone, gave him the kind of voice that thrummed her core like a Veluvian Cello.
“I was born on Xonoulous, but I’m living on Thelbous 2 right now.”
She nodded even though she had no idea where either of those planets were.
Every once in a while, when he looked at her, his cock grew thicker and longer, occasionally bobbing and bouncing like it had a life of its own. So maybe there was some interest in her, which was good, considering he was going to fall in love and marry her.
She’d actually hoped to see a little more reaction.
I suppose nudists have more control over that sort of thing.
He seemed completely at ease with his nakedness. Would he want their kids to be brought up nudists? Would she have to convert? Awkward questions, probably best kept for later in their relationship.
She certainly wasn’t ready for kids yet.
Love, marriage, an annoying man in her life, always underfoot. Was she ready for that even? Especially one who appeared to have some issues.
Well, he also had an incredible butt, so . . . yeah, there was that.
Her future husband paced, looking around the ship, checking the meters and monitors. Maybe he actually understood what all those readings meant. That would be great. She had a feeling she wasn’t going to get this ship flying again without some help. And now with that tree fucking everything up, they needed to get the ship flying again to get the hell out of here.
Bixby’s report had a lot of big, long words in it, like Syngonal Vacuum Hydrogenizer, that didn’t make any sense to her. And the little guy could only beep and boop when she talked to it.
From across the cabin, Kyle’s stomach growled. He hit some buttons on a complicated-looking machine, frowning at the display on the unit. “Your food replicator is out of lacto-proteins.”
“Is that important?” She didn’t even know the ship had a food replicator, or even what a food replicator actually was, but anything food related got her interest fast.
He tilted his head, studying her. “Only if we want to eat.”
She grabbed up her leather pouch that held the kelp bars. “I have these.”
Crap, the man of her dreams was hungry and all she had to offer him were gods-awful kelp bars. She’d really need to redeem herself after this.
Taking her offering, he brought one of the green, pasty bars to his mouth and took a nibble. To his benefit, he didn’t wrinkle his nose or spit it out.
“Not bad.” He chewed, then took another bite.
“You can be honest. They’re terrible.” Zana wasn’t quite hungry enough to take one for herself. “They’re pretty much all my planet has left to eat in any abundance.”
Kyle took another bite without throwing up. The man was amazing.
“Well, I didn’t say they were good.” A smile played at the edges of his gorgeous mouth. “I just said they weren’t bad.”
Zana stood in awe as he finished the entire bar.
A bit of the oozing stuff leaked from his scalp toward his eyes. He wiped it with the back of his hand.
“I’ve got to do something about this first, then we’ll go out and present the solar lantern to the roos. Is the cleansing chamber in the head working?”
She shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Go ahead. I’ll be out here when you finish up.”
She watched that glorious ass disappear through the doorway. A holographic tattoo winked at her from his right butt cheek. By the galactic gods, his ass even dimples when he walks.
So fuckin’ sexy.
The God of Thunder may have had his faults. That gorgeous behind certainly wasn’t one of them. Everything else . . . she’d just have to learn to live with.
The kelp bar sat in his stomach like a steaming pile of drothlic poo. Yes, he’d eaten worse. His undercover work had him ingesting all kinds of local cuisine. He’d had to develop a titanium lining on his stomach as a defense. At least he was fed.
In the relative safety of the ship, the irritation of the shampoo in his hair dripping down his face had moved up his mental priorities list. He needed to get rid of it. Plus, the auto-bathing chamber offered a sanctuary away from the girl, where he could think clearly and plot his next course.
She certainly couldn’t run away from him, with the roos outside, so the creatures were actually buying him some time to plan the best way to take her into custody. He could lock her in the cargo hold below, but it didn’t look as if this ship could even fly, let alone warp. So for now he’d just bide his time, watch her, until he could figure out his next moves.
A faulty radial collider made his auto-bathing session on the cold side. Still, it kept his tired eyes open and shot a boost of needed adrenaline through his system.
“Nowhere near as satisfying as a hot shower,” he muttered, as the chamber washed the rest of the shampoo from his head. His hair and body got a thorough cleansing, so he couldn’t really complain.
Gods, was the shower still running back in his apartment? His water bill was going to be astronomical when he returned.
If he returned. This ship was a wreck. The repair droid’s report stated the craft could not launch without some new parts. Finding new parts on Old Earth presented some real problems, unless they happened to be crashed near one of the Galactic Marshals’ resupply bases set up a decade ago for the timber culling riots.
No subspace communication or Galaxynet interface were even available in this system, and the ship’s emergency claxon was damaged beyond repair. Calling for help was out as well. No one was even supposed to be in the system, let alone land on the planet. “We’re in big trouble.”
With a capital T.
So, why wasn’t he in full panic mode?
The girl. That quirky minx with her wide emerald eyes, silky brunette curls, and bouncy, devil-may-care attitude. She had this innocent sexiness that sent his mind wandering down erotic alleys and his cock ready to follow. Keeping his mind on the tasks at hand had taken all his willpower.
She was a criminal. He needed to focus, and treat her as such no matter what his libido told him.
“And I have got to get me a pair of pants . . . soon.”
Location secured, food found, he could at least move pants up his list of priorities.
Maybe she had something stretchy, because otherwise there was no way anything that fit her, would fit him. She was such a little thing. And because it was an auto-bathing chamber and not a shower, it had air-dry mode. Not a towel to be found to jury-rig as a kilt or loincloth. A starship like this was designed for efficiency. No room for towels or excess toiletries.
Between Venus & Mars (The Soul Mate Tree Book 3) Page 3