He disliked the cargo master on sight. An overweight Persat male in elaborate finery—completely out of place on a ship like this—he smirked at Craxan.
“So you’re the captain’s pet Cire.”
“I am the pet of no one,” he growled, but Anaeus only laughed.
“Of course not. What would you like? I have a wide variety of supplies, although most of them are quite expensive.” He ran a disparaging eye over Craxan’s worn uniform.
“Rissta said to let me choose some fabric for my females.”
As soon as he said the words, he knew he had made a mistake. Anaeus’s eyes lit up with a speculative gleam.
“Did you say females? How many do you have?”
“Two. My mate and my child.”
“And you intend to keep both of them? They are quite val—”
His words cut off with a muffled gurgle as Craxan grabbed him by the neck and hauled him up against the wall.
“They are not possessions to be bartered. You will never refer to them in those terms again.”
Anaeus made a strangled noise, and Craxan dropped him with a disgusted grunt.
“I meant no harm,” the other male rasped. Despite his apologetic words, his eyes brimmed with anger.
“Where is the cloth?”
“The smaller lengths are along the far wall.”
He turned in that direction without bothering to respond. The selection was somewhat limited, but he chose a practical dark blue fabric, then impulsively threw in a length of deep gold that would bring out the golden highlights in Joanna’s hair and a small piece in shimmering white for Sultavi.
Anaeus measured them out without a word, then handed him a datapad to sign.
“I’ll leave the captain to sort out the reckoning,” he muttered.
“Very well.”
He took the fabric and left without another word, making a mental note to tell Joanna to stay well clear of the other male. Something about him made his skin twitch, and he had been a soldier for long enough not to ignore his intuition.
But in the meantime, he had clothing to prepare for his females.
Chapter Eight
Joanna took a deep breath after Craxan left, then smiled tentatively at the tiny alien female with the sharp knives. She had almost feline features, with two small horns poking through a curly white mane. The rest of her fur was white as well, and Joanna wondered if it was her natural coloring or due to her age.
“Thank you for offering to help me learn,” she said sincerely.
“We’ll see.” Rissta sniffed. “Sit down.”
The table in the center of the room might be metal, but it reminded her of her own kitchen table and she felt surprisingly comfortable as she watched the other female bustle around.
Rissta handed Sultavi a glass of pale green juice, then gave one to Joanna. She watched expectantly as Joanna took a sip.
“This is laimi juice, isn’t it? But you’ve added something.”
“Farlan salt. Brings out the flavor,” Rissta said. “Next test.”
That had been a test? Joanna gulped. “I’m only familiar with the food we ate on Alliko.”
“The principles don’t change. Here. What do you think of this?”
The small purple cracker was shockingly bitter, but she did her best not to reveal her dislike. She must not have been entirely successful because Rissta barked a laugh, then handed her another plate.
“Which of these three cheeses would you pair with it?”
As soon as she tried the second one, she knew it was perfect. The cheese had a slight underlying sweetness which offset the bitterness so that the two complemented each other.
“This one.”
“Hmph. You may have enough of a palette to be worth teaching. But eat first.”
Rissta gave them both steaming bowls of soup and thick slices of bread. The soup was an unappetizing grey, and even though Sultavi dove in happily, Joanna only took a cautious sip. The flavor exploded in her mouth, rich and meaty with a slight peppery undertone.
“This is amazing. What is it?”
“Herbertan mealworms, seasoned with spice.”
Joanna almost choked, but she forced herself to smile. “It’s delicious.”
Rissta’s sharp eyes apparently didn’t miss anything. “Yes it is, and if you’re squeamish, you’d better get over it now.”
The implication was clear, and she took another spoonful. It really was delicious and after all, there were plenty of things on Earth that seemed unlikely sources of food. Like oysters.
Rissta gave an approving grunt as she took the empty bowl. “I’m willing to give you a try. Let’s see if you can follow orders.”
For the rest of the afternoon, she chopped—and re-chopped when Rissta wasn’t satisfied with the precision of the pieces—and stirred and tasted and listened as Rissta lectured. Even though there was an overwhelming amount to learn, she had been correct about one thing. She knew she could do this.
“Thank you,” she said sincerely when Rissta finally declared that everything was ready for the evening meal. The other female had already informed her that they would not be dining with the crew, which suited her perfectly.
Rissta peered at her, then gave a reluctant sniff. “You did well enough. For a human.”
She had said something similar when they first met, and it suddenly occurred to Joanna to wonder how Rissta had known she was human. But before she could ask, Sultavi interrupted them, holding up a lopsided tart. The little girl had spent most of the afternoon playing with pieces of dough, rolling them out and cutting them into shapes, then gleefully mashing them back into a ball.
“Look!”
“That looks delicious, Tavi. Are you going to eat it now?”
“No, I want to take it back to Papa.”
An unexpected lump rose in her throat as she added the tart to the collection of dishes Rissta insisted they take with them. Acting the part of a family was becoming a little too real—and too tempting. This was a job for Craxan, nothing more, and they would be parting ways soon. She needed to put some distance between them.
A resolve that disappeared as soon as they entered the cabin and found Craxan surrounded by pieces of fabric, a distraught look on his face. Apparently he had somewhat overstated his sewing skills in his anxiousness to provide clothes for them. Her heart melted.
“Where’s my dress?” Sultavi asked as soon as they entered.
“I am not that fast, princess, and I will need to take some measurements.” He gave Joanna a rueful smile. “I am afraid my skills are somewhat rusty. But in the meantime, I brought you some of my clothing. I believe black will be more practical than your current outfit.”
He ran his eyes over her as she discarded her cloak. The white silk had taken some damage, but she suspected that he wasn’t looking for stains. Her nipples beaded at the warmth in his eyes.
She tried to laugh, but it came out breathlessly. “You’re right. And it will be nice to have a change.”
“Me too,” Sultavi demanded.
“Of course.” He held up a sleeveless black shirt. “This is one of my training shirts. I can cut it to fit you, then use it as a pattern.”
With Joanna’s help, he managed to take Sultavi’s measurements. He cut the cloth with an unexpectedly sure hand, then used a heated tool to close the seams. Her daughter pranced around excitedly in the resulting dress.
“I look like Papa,” she said happily, smoothing down the black cloth.
“You did a good job,” Joanna told Craxan.
He shook his head. “The right seam is crooked, and the hemline—”
She put her fingers over his lips and he froze. “You did a good job. She’s very happy.”
His mouth parted, and for the briefest instant she felt his tongue touch her fingers before he curled his hand around hers and placed it on his chest. Did even his tongue have those same intriguing nubs? The thought sent a spark of excitement straight to her clit, but she forced herself to ignor
e it and concentrate on his words.
“I am happy that she is satisfied. It has been a long time, and I am out of practice.”
“How did you learn?”
“Necessity.” He was still holding her hand and he played with it as he spoke. “When Vanha and I left Ciresia, we had no money and very few possessions. It took time to find jobs. To gain a reputation. So I did everything I could to make the credits stretch. It was not that much of a leap from repairing a weapons harness to repairing clothing and eventually creating it.”
He sounded nostalgic, and she wanted to ask him more, but Sultavi interrupted.
“When are we going to eat? I’m hungry.”
She saw the distress on Craxan’s face and squeezed his hand. “She’s not that hungry. Miss Rissta was feeding her tidbits all afternoon.”
Tavi gave her an innocent look. “She just gave me a few bites. And I want to give Papa his surprise.”
Craxan still looked worried so she gave in. “All right. Let’s put this fabric away, and then we can eat.”
He obeyed, folding the fabric and putting it in yet another wall compartment. She caught the flash of gold and wondered what else he had stored there, but then Tavi almost spilled the soup in her eagerness to help and she went to her aid.
The meal was a success. The bench was too small, and Tavi knocked over her precious bottle of juice, but it didn’t matter. The food was delicious, but it was more than that. She told Craxan about her afternoon, and he shared some humorous stories of his own cooking attempts, while Tavi provided her own commentary. It felt like the type of warm, family meal that she had always longed to have, and she stopped trying to remember that it was just temporary and enjoyed herself.
Craxan was lavish in his praise of everything, especially Tavi’s tart. The little girl watched anxiously as he took a careful bite and chewed thoughtfully.
“I believe this is the best tart I have ever eaten,” he said finally.
Tavi grinned and threw herself at him. “I made it especially for you.”
“Thank you, princess. It was perfect.”
An unexpected lump sprang to her throat as she watched the small head tucked so trustingly against that broad chest. Then his tail touched her wrist and she looked up to find him watching her. There was a question in his eyes, but she couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge it. Instead, she jumped to her feet and started stacking the dishes.
“Craxan, can you return these to the galley while I give Tavi a bath—I mean, a shower. Tell Rissta I will clean them tomorrow.”
“Of course I will return them. And wash them,” he said immediately.
“You don’t need to do that.”
“You prepared the meal. I will clean.”
“It was mainly Rissta.”
“I will clean,” he repeated, gathered up the dishes, and left.
“Is he coming back, Mama?” Tavi asked.
“Of course sweetheart,” she said, realizing that she had absolutely no doubt that he would. “Now let’s get you ready for bed.”
A clean Sultavi insisted on putting on her new black outfit, and Joanna couldn’t blame her. She gave her own clothes a rueful look. In addition to the side effects of her kitchen work, she was now damp from wrestling with Tavi and she could see the shadow of her areola beneath her top.
An effect that Craxan noticed immediately upon his return. He froze in the doorway, his eyes going directly to her breasts, and her nipples responded, thrusting against the cool, damp cloth. She crossed her arms over her breasts and did her best to ignore the low ache between her thighs.
“I was wondering if I could also borrow one of your shirts.”
“I have not yet had a chance to measure you.” His voice deepened as he took a step closer and she could all too clearly imagine his big hands running down her sides, cupping her breasts…
“I have a better idea,” she said quickly. “I can just wear it as is tonight and then tomorrow you can use this top as a pattern.”
“Very well,” he agreed, but as he went to retrieve his pack, he bent down and whispered in her ear. “But my way would be far more interesting.”
Her cheeks flamed as she grabbed the shirt he handed her and ducked into the bathroom. He followed her in, his body pressing against hers as he leaned over and touched the wall. A small panel slid aside, revealing another compartment.
“To keep your clothes dry,” he explained. “Although I am not sure I regret not informing you of that previously.”
He left before she could think of a response.
As she stripped off her clothes and placed them in the compartment, her body still hummed with excitement from being pressed against him. From the massive bar of flesh that had been pressed against her ass, he had been just as excited. His scent lingered, even after she turned on the shower liquid, both comforting and arousing. She found herself cupping her breasts, sliding her soapy hands over them as she imagined that Craxan was the one touching her. She pinched her nipples, a little harder than she intended, but the resulting sting sent a streak of excitement straight to her clit.
With a guilty look at the closed door, she slid her hand between her legs. The little nub of flesh was already swollen, hot to her touch, and she circled it slowly, imagining one of those big fingers caressing her, sliding deeper, preparing her for his cock… She came with a gasp, a warm tide of pleasure rolling over her.
How long had it been? She certainly hadn’t thought about sex during the year of her captivity, and even back on Earth, she hadn’t been that interested since she and Gary separated. Or even before we parted ways, she thought dryly as she resumed washing. But a few heated looks from a big, green alien, and her sex drive came roaring back.
It’s just because we’re in such close proximity, she told herself firmly. But when she walked out of the bathroom dressed in his oversized shirt and saw him watching her, his eyes warm, her heart skipped a beat.
“Tell me a story, Mama,” Sultavi demanded. “Papa doesn’t know the same ones.”
“Probably not.” She sat down on the bench and lifted her daughter onto her lap. “Can you dim the lights, Craxan?”
He obeyed and she gathered Tavi close, telling her an old favorite. Craxan’s tail wrapped around them both, just like in Tavi’s picture, and she felt surprisingly content. She didn’t know what the future held, but tonight, she was happy.
When Sultavi fell asleep, Craxan lifted her into the upper bunk, and then they sat talking in the dim light. The shadowy space felt warm and intimate, and she was overwhelmingly conscious of his closeness. His tail was back on her leg and it would be all too easy to slide over just a little bit more and…
“How long has it been since you were taken?” he asked, distracting her wayward thoughts.
“An Earth year. Three hundred and sixty-five days, more or less. I may have lost count at the beginning.”
“Do you miss it?”
“Sometimes. I had a very nice life. A job I loved, an apartment on the edge of campus filled with books and plants.” She ran her fingers thoughtfully over his tail. “But I’ve been here so long. Sometimes it feels as if that life was only a dream.”
His face looked oddly strained. “What about friends, family? A mate?”
“I had friends, of course. We weren’t one of those high-pressure universities, and I got along with my colleagues. No relatives. I was a late—and I think unexpected—addition to my parents’ marriage. They were both gone before I was taken. What about you?”
“There is no one.”
The words sounded so harsh, so lonely. She patted his tail soothingly, waiting to see if he would add anything more.
“I had a big family once,” he said finally. “Two brothers, a sister, lots of cousins. The plague took every one of them.”
She couldn’t imagine how terrible that must have been. The loss of her parents had devastated her, but she had only lost two people.
“How old were you?”
“I had just turned eighteen. The government was telling everyone that it was our duty to try and restore our society. I… could not. Vanha had been one of my teachers at the academy. He was the one who got me away from Ciresia. Because of him, I learned that my skills had value.”
She didn’t respond, but her face must have given her away because a faint smile twisted his mouth.
“I suppose it doesn’t look like that now. It’s been a bad year.”
“Why?”
“Vanha died six months ago. Died stupidly. Took some money from the wrong people, then drank too much, and let himself be cornered. He still managed to take out three of them, but the other two killed him.”
His tail had turned rigid beneath her fingers.
“I should have been there,” he burst out. “But we had argued earlier that year and I was still sulking.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I spent the past six months, and what was left of my savings, hunting down the two that got away.”
“Did you find them?”
“Yes. And I avenged him. But after that… there just did not seem to be much point to my life. I was not in a good place when Jed brought me the message from Opinnas.”
“But you came. And you saved us.”
“Or perhaps you saved me.”
They looked at each other and she could feel the tension between them, like a glowing ember that needed only the slightest spark to make it flare.
“You said you had no children,” he said slowly.
“No. At first I was concentrating on getting my doctorate. And then I was in a… relationship for a long time with another professor.”
“A mate?” he growled.
“No, neither one of us was interested in getting married. We didn’t even live together, but we did spend a lot of time together. It was… comfortable. He wasn’t interested in children, and I suppose I didn’t really think about it. Then when we finally broke up—”
“He broke you?” His expression was horrified.
She laughed. “Not at all. It’s just an expression that means we stopped being together. He took a position at another university, and I decided not to go with him. We parted on good terms. I even went to his wedding.” Less than a year later. Apparently he had been interested in marriage after all—just not with her. “At that point, I decided I was too old and set in my ways to have kids. It didn’t really bother me.”
The Nanny and the Alien Warrior Page 7