by Jade Archer
A Total-E-Bound Publication
www.total-e-bound.com
The Stowaway
ISBN #–-
©Copyright Jade Archer
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright August
Edited by Lisa Cox
Total-E-Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
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Published in by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN FL, United Kingdom.
Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Total-e-burning and a sexometer of .
Journey of the Wyvern
THE STOWAWAY
Jade Archer
Dedication
For Evie—thank you for all your friendship, help and support on this crazy journey!
Chapter One
Rachel dug her fingernails into her palms and tried to contain the rage building inside as her mother, sisters and various other female relatives continued to fuss over her. Primping and curling her hair, painting her nails and smoothing out the lines of her bonding dress. It was all slowly but surely pushing her over the edge—eating away at the last tattered threads of her control until she wanted to scream.
The need to shout, “Back off! You’re suffocating me!” bubbled up in her throat, but she ruthlessly swallowed it down. It wasn’t as if it would make a difference anyway. Her kinswomen were on a mission—they weren’t going to be put off by a minor thing like Rachel not being able to breathe.
Her stomach twisting in angry, frustrated knots, Rachel turned her head to stare out of the cramped private waiting room’s single observation window. But even the sight of the bustling spaceport couldn’t distract her today. Normally, on those rare occasions she got to come to town with her family, she was glued to the viewports that overlooked the main dock. She loved watching the dazzling array of space-going vessels coming and going. The strangers in their bright, alien clothes heading out for distant star systems. The dock workers hurrying about preparing the ships for their journeys. She even enjoyed watching the other Thebia farmers going about their business—trying to imagine how visitors to their world might see them. It was fascinating.
But none of it could divert her today. Today—possibly the worst day of her twenty-three-solar-year existence—completely stifled her usual interest. She had too many other things on her mind.
The whole situation was just so infuriating. How could her family think this was a good idea? That it was perfectly all right to bond her off to a pair of brothers from Thebia she’d never even met. Hell, she hadn’t even had an opportunity to speak to them yet.
It was traditional in their sparsely populated solar system. A way of matching hard-working farmers with appropriate mates that could tend house and produce off-spring where there were thousands of clicks of solgram fields and not much else. But she felt like an object. A thing. A marionette being manipulated and hoisted into position.
A brightly painted, very false and unwilling marionette—done up to be something she wasn’t. She didn’t want to be a blushing bond-mate. She didn’t want to be the essence of grace and fertility or whatever the hell the thousands of beads and hundreds of loops of goldilum thread on her gown were supposed to represent. She had absolutely no desire to bond and settle down to raising a family and continuing the cycle of Thebian life.
It wasn’t who she was. It wasn’t who she wanted to be.
A sharp tug at her waist finally snapped her control.
“Please, Mother. Just…stop.”
All things considered, she thought she sounded surprisingly reasonable—even if her voice was a little sharp for speaking to the house matriarch.
“Don’t be silly, dear. If we don’t get these tucks just right it’ll spoil the whole effect,” Mother Sorrtell replied, still pulling at the errant fabric.
“Do you really think they’ll care? Or even notice? They’re men, Mother.”
“Of course they’ll notice. You’re going to be their bond-mate, the mother of their young. Besides, they’re not the ones we need to impress, my dear. It’s your new kinswomen you need to look your best for.”
Rachel fought hard against the urge to grind her teeth.
“I hardly think they’re going to care much, either, Mother. They’re more interested in how many loaves of bread I can produce in an hour or how fast I can mend a seam.”
“Time for all that later. We’re talking about first impressions here, Rachel. Very important.”
“Oh, of course. Silly me.”
“Don’t be snippy,” Mother chided. “That tongue of yours is going to land you in a whole mess of trouble in your new home if you’re not careful, my girl. Don’t think the matriarch there is going to be as lenient as I am.”
Rachel took hold of her mother’s hand, stilling the restless fingers and finally getting her attention. With her mother’s eyes finally really seeing her, Rachel lifted the long red skirt of her bonding day dress, desperately trying one last time to make her mother understand.
“I don’t want this.”
Mother’s eyes narrowed, a familiar temper entering them that most people in the household knew better than to provoke.
“Would you mind giving us a minute, ladies?” Mother asked carefully.
The other women took one look at Mother Sorrtell’s expression and headed for the door in a flurry of rustling callocko and ruffles.
Traitors.
Sisters, cousins, aunts—none of them hung around to offer her even a glance of support. Then again, none of them understood why she was railing against something they not only considered inevitable, but a wonderful occasion in her life. Bonding days were something to be celebrated.
Unless, of course, you actually wanted to have a life.
Mother’s no-nonsense gaze swung back to Rachel as soon as the door slid shut behind the other women of the family. “Your kinswomen spent months helping you to finish this gown in time for your bonding. The least you could do is be grateful. If not, is it too much to ask that you hold still long enough for us to get it on you properly?”
Gazing down at the intricate folds, layers and hand-stitched embellishments that had taken the women of her line hundreds of hours of work, usually after long days of tending to the household and helping in the fields, Rachel felt a stab of guilt. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t think of it as anything more than a slave’s costume they were all helping to stitch her into.
It was supposed to represent her dedication to hard work and the richness she brought to her new family. It was her kinswomen’s attempt to show her in her best possible light so she would be admired and accepted into her new family. All it did was make Rachel feel trapped. And angry.
She wasn’t some present that needed to be wrapped and tied up with a neat little bow before handing over on Midwinter’s Day. She had bigger dreams than this. She wanted to be free, not caged by expectations and traditions. She
wanted…adventure.
Rachel pressed her lips together tightly—silently fuming beneath her mother’s disapproving gaze. It was no use. She had gone over it a thousand times with her various female relatives—begged, pleaded, reasoned and railed, but it didn’t make any difference. They all told her the same thing. This bonding was expected. It was the way things were and she better get used to it. After a few years, when she had young to care for, she would hardly remember these feelings of restlessness and rebellion, they all told her. It was natural to feel nervous and insecure, but once she was bonded, everything would work out. She would see.
She hadn’t known what to say to any of them six months ago when her mother had announced that the bonding had been arranged and she didn’t know what to say now. Eventually she had got sick of hearing the platitudes and condescension. She remained silent, and directed her energy elsewhere.
Suddenly Mother sighed. “It’s my fault. I should never have let you gallivant around the farm with your brothers when you were growing up.”
“But I love being out in the fields with my brothers. I would have been miserable staying home.”
Mother gave a very uncharacteristic snort. “You mean you would have caused no end of trouble at home.”
“I just wanted to…explore.”
“I know. I know. You were always a wild one.” Mother reached up and brushed a stray curl back from Rachel’s forehead tenderly. “But it left you with unrealistic expectations.”
Unrealistic expectations. How could she fight a statement like that? Wanting her own life, to be free and to see something beyond food processor units and the mending room, was unrealistic?
Apparently it was in her mother’s eyes. And there really wasn’t anywhere else to go after that. No point in further discussion. It was quite obvious her mother just didn’t understand. And probably never would.
“I’m really sorry things didn’t work out between you and Luke,” Mother continued, tweaking an errant curl into place. “I had high hopes for the two of you and that handsome cousin of his from Orthos Minor.”
Rachel fought a blush. Luke had been fun. Actually, he’d been hung like a Purillien horz and taught her quite a lot in the couple of years they’d been ‘stepping out together’. But it had never been anything serious. When Luke had left to join his cousin and bond with a girl on Orthos Minor she’d been sad to loss his friendship—and of course the hot benefits that went with it—but she hadn’t been heartbroken or anything.
“You need to settle down, Rachel. I just want to see you happy and bonded with a family. This really is for the best.”
Rachel bowed her head. Her mother simply couldn’t imagine a woman being happy outside an arranged marriage and enough young to form a vectorball team. Unfortunately, it just wasn’t who she was, and in that way she would always be a disappointment to her mother.
A tear slipped out before she could stop it.
“Aw! Now, come on, none of that. After a while you’ll settle in. You’ll see.”
“I’ll miss you, Mother.”
“Oh, baby! I’ll miss you too. Don’t worry, we’ll see each other. Thebia is set to hold next season’s Agricultural Council meeting. Your fathers have agreed I could come along and see how you’re getting on.” Mother’s arms closed around Rachel in a tight hug. “Now, no more tears. You’ll ruin your make-up.”
Rachel nodded. For a few moments she allowed herself to soak up her mother’s warmth. Maybe Mother didn’t understand. Maybe she never would, but she was still ‘Mother’. The woman who had rocked her to sleep after a nightmare. The woman who had soothed her as the healer set her broken arm when she’d fallen out of the arpril tree chasing her brothers in the orchard. The woman who had held her hand while they pierced her ears at her coming-in celebration.
After a few minutes Rachel stepped back. It was time to let go.
“Thank you, Mother.”
“You’re welcome, child.”
“Mother, I…I need to say I’m sorry. To the others. I’ve been…tense, but it was no reason to take it out on them.”
Mother patted her hand gently. “Oh, my beautiful girl. Don’t fret. It’s perfectly natural for you to be feeling a little stressed, honey. I’ll go find where those kinswomen of ours have got off to and bring them right back.”
“Would you find my fathers and brothers as well? I’d like to see them too before…well, you know.”
“Of course, dear. I probably should track down your fathers and brothers anyway. See if they’ve spotted your bond-mates yet. Make sure they haven’t all accidentally fallen into a tavern somewhere. You just relax. I’ll be right back.”
“Thank you, Mother.”
Rachel waited just long enough for her mother to close the door and walk down the corridor then she spun around, grabbed the satchel she’d managed to keep with a few bare essentials and hurried for the door. She’d said her goodbyes, now it was time to go. But she’d be doing it her way.
Devlynn cursed fluently in several standard intergalactic languages as he stomped his way back towards docking bay forty-two. When that didn’t make him feel any better he switched to a few, far more obscure dialects. But it didn’t make any difference. He desperately needed to hit something, and right now the port manager was looking mighty tempting.
Barek, you evil fucking annelid. Remembering the smug look on the little Thebian’s face as he screwed them into the ground made Devlynn’s head hurt—the pent-up rage throbbing in his temples.
Fuck! Arek was going to be pissed. Maybe even pissed enough to start talking about selling The Wyvern again.
Devlynn slowed to a stop and ran his hand back through his short, spiky brown hair. What the hell was he going to tell Arek? Worse than worrying how they could keep going in a ship held together with conduit banding and Flexisteel cement, or wondering where on Rylos they were going to find the credits for next month’s ration packs, Devlynn’s gut churned just thinking about having to report back to Arek.
To those who didn’t know better, Arek could pass for perfectly fine. In fact, physically he was six-foot-eight and built like a dream. Literally. Devlynn often dreamed about his captain and best friend. And not in the “Hey, buddy, let’s check out the local tavern and have a few beers” kind of way. But beneath the thin veneer of ‘kiss-my-ass’ attitude and masculine perfection, Devlynn knew differently. Cracks were appearing—cracks that threatened to open up and swallow Arek whole.
Every day, he was getting more and more moody. More and more uptight. The fine lines of strain around his mouth and eyes were deepening. The haunted look that clouded his friend’s eyes sometimes when he thought no one was looking took longer and longer to fade each time. The laughing, devil-may-care bad-ass that squeezed every last drop out of life, the man Devlynn had long ago admitted he loved—if only to himself—was a shadowy memory.
He was losing Arek. Day-by-day, the Arek he knew was slipping away to be replaced by a hard, brittle shell of the man he used to be.
Danni’s death a little over nine months ago had changed him. Had changed everything, really. Once Arek would have simply brushed himself off and given the universe the big ‘screw-you’. Now…well, now he wasn’t sure what Arek’s reaction might be to the latest pile of Mar droppings that had been dumped at their hatch. Devlynn worried each time they came up against another hitch that Arek would implode—like a once brilliant star collapsing down into a gaping black hole.
Unfortunately, he didn’t have a choice but to share the latest bad news with his friend. Arek was his captain. Always had been, always would be. Withholding information just wasn’t an option.
Relieved of choice, if not his concern, Devlynn continued on—hurrying back past the looming hulls of the docked space transports towards The Wyvern. Rounding the huge, snub-nosed bow of a particularly large freighter, he saw Arek straighten up from a stack of cargo pods he’d been leaning against while he waited.
Devlynn’s pace faltered for a second befor
e he caught himself and kept going as if nothing was amiss. Gods, the man was beautiful. His pulse kicked up a notch just watching the delicious slide of bronzed skin over thick muscles. So lickable. So completely never going to happen.
Piercing blue eyes pinned him with an intensity that did funny things to Devlynn’s insides. Wavy golden-brown hair pulled back in a simple synth-leather thong begged him to free it and run his fingers through the silky shoulder-length strands. Tight pants and an even tighter ass demanded his worshipping fingers. Damn, the man was fine with a capital fuck me.
“So what’s the verdict?” Arek called out as Devlynn got close enough to hear over the discordant mayhem of the busy spaceport.
Devlynn mentally slapped himself upside the head and tried to find some control. Now was so not the time to be thinking about how hot his Captain was.
“I tried, but he said late is late. Five hours or five days, we don’t get the bonus because we were outside the specified time.”
“Son of a—” Arek’s fingers curled up into his palm to form fists and his jaw clenched. “It was a fucking solar storm. The whole sodding dock was shut down. No one could have got those supplies through.”
“He didn’t care. Just pointed out the contract details on his data pad and told me to take what was on offer or put in an official petition and wait for the Floating Courts to swing past next month with their decision.”
“Asshole! We nearly killed ourselves getting those meds through.”
Devlynn nodded. He didn’t add his own fury at the situation. It would only prolong the moment—which wasn’t going to make any difference and wouldn’t do Arek any good in Devlynn’s opinion.
“So what’s he got for us to take out?”
“The only haul he’s got for us is solgram bails headed for the beef farms on Nareen.”
“But that’s halfway across the fucking sector!”
“Yeah. And it’s not a full payload either.”
“Ah, shit!” Arek turned and paced away a few steps before coming back, hands on hips and looking like he was barely holding on to his temper. “Is there any chance we can pick something up along the way?”