by JC Hay
He grinned at the tingle of his cock stirring, and muttered, “Though we probably have time for one more round.”
She rolled over with a quiet purr, blue-black hair falling into her face in a delightfully adorable tousle. “Did you say something?”
His muscles protested as Ax propped himself onto his elbows, reminding him that the night had been full of more exertion than he was used to. Not that he was complaining. If anything, the ache in his back was more of a trophy. He caught her hair with his fingers and tucked it behind her ear, pausing to stroke the pointed lobe. Her eyes closed, and she let out a shaky breath.
“Nothing important,” he finally admitted, amazed at how utterly her responses entranced him.
Kayana purred again, sliding forward across the bed until her head rested half on his chest. The invitation to keep combing his fingers through her hair was as blatant as it was irresistible, and she snuggled tighter as he massaged her scalp.
“What’s on your mind?” she asked, voice already a bit drowsy from the touch.
“It’s nothing,” he said. “Just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“I think our shoes are all in a pile in the middle of the room.” She grinned against his skin before she kissed his chest. “Along with our clothes.”
“Not what I meant, and you know it. Just that this was...” He let his voice trail off as he collected his thoughts. “It’s only a matter of time until this all blows up.”
She pushed herself into a sitting position, the furrow of concern between her eyebrows almost enough to distract him from the fact that the sheet had fallen away from her breasts. “Until what blows up? You’re confusing me, Ax.”
He blinked at her casual use of his name. She’d said it before, but it sounded so natural on her lips that he wanted to hear it again, ideally during another of her nova-like releases. His eyes drifted back down the length of her body. Before he could give in to temptation he got out of bed and padded across to the small kitchenette. The morning air was chilly against his bare skin, but the reward was worth the suffering—a few quick taps and the room filled with the delicious smell of brewing coffee.
“I’m sorry. This was amazing, it really was. It’s just that I know it can’t last. At the end of the day, I’m just not good for women. Or anyone really. I suspect it’s my nature.” That was overlooking the fact that she’d be gone as soon as the race ended, or that Gobby was likely to kill him once she caught him. He could be a jackass and try to claim that he just hadn’t found the right person, but he was old enough to realize that the only common denominator in his failed relationships was him. “Sooner or later I rub everyone the wrong way.”
Kayana made a satisfied sound, arching her back as she stretched and drawing his gaze back to her chest. “Actually, you were rubbing me in exactly the right way earlier.”
It broke the tension of the moment, and his laugh was genuine, even if it didn’t completely chase the shadows away. He crossed back to the bed and sat before leaning over to kiss the spot where her neck and shoulder met. Her shiver of desire was almost as delightful as the tiny gasp she made. She had an entire catalog of sounds and responses, and he could spend a lifetime discovering them. The knowledge that he might never get the chance hurt more than he expected, like trying to breathe shards of glass.
“Again, not what I meant,” he said. “I’m just telling you that every time I’ve wanted more than a casual relationship, I’ve ruined it.”
She reached down to cover his hand with hers, threading their fingers together. “Every time?”
“The longest I made it was two years. Eventually we realized we were less lovers than a way to enable each other’s worst habits.” Which was probably the politest way he could put Gobby’s predilections. “I made a bad break of things when I left.”
That was also an understatement, but that had been as much Gobby’s fault as his.
Her expression went thoughtful. “I know what you mean. Or rather, I understand the concept. I wouldn’t know directly of course. I was engaged to be married from the time I was six.”
Ax blinked at her. Panic put an unexpected hitch in his pulse, but it didn’t hide the twinge of disappointment he had at the idea. “Wait. You’re someone’s fiancée?” He got up and crossed the room before she could spot his emotion, poured the coffees then brought them back to the bed. “Am I a home-wrecker?”
“It was called off more than a year ago.” She sipped at her cup, watching him as though she awaited his condemnation. “I didn’t meet him until both our families were ready. Once he actually saw me, he declared that I was unsuitable.”
The idea that anyone could find her unsuitable or undesirable filled him with protective anger. Whoever this fiancé was, Ax had a sudden desire to find him and beat him senseless. You know, unless the guy was huge. Then he could settle for teaching her how wrong that idiot was. “Well, that guy sounds like an ass.”
“He’s the scion and heir to one of the Nine Great Houses. The marriage would have been a huge improvement for my family, both in terms of status and economic power. The engagement itself was the product of three generations’ work between our House and theirs. My great-grandmother started the negotiations.” She flopped back onto the bed and let out a heavy sigh. “But yeah. He’s also an asshole.”
He leaned over and traced a kiss across her belly. “I know all about trying to deal with family expectations. I finally just left rather than continue to fail to live up to them.”
She squirmed, threading her fingers into his hair. “If it helps, you’ve certainly exceeded mine. How long before we have to get back to the ship?”
“You have a one-track mind.” Not that Ax was complaining. If they kept this about sex, they could stay casual. Nobody would get their hearts involved. Nobody would get hurt.
Well, no one except him, but after the trail of ruin he’d left in his wake, he probably deserved it.
Twelve
The bridge was quiet when Kayana walked through the glass and steel doors. Vedenemo’s lush blue-green orb spun in holographic perfection above one of the terminals, reminding her of the time she’d spent with Ax on the planet surface. He was right, of course. Casual was the best option. At the end of the competition she would be heading back to Malebranki space with her winnings, and he’d go back to doing...whatever he’d done before they met.
The idea stung. Him leaving, without her.
“We work well together,” she said to the empty bridge. The sound of the lie in her voice surprised her. Not because they didn’t work well together—quite the opposite—but because she knew it wasn’t the reason she wanted to have him around. She’d seen the anger on his face when she told him about Endarion. It had been so long since someone had taken her side that she’d forgotten how nice it felt. She didn’t need him to defend her, but the thought that he’d want to lit a warmth in her chest that went far beyond v’tana. Affection seemed so ephemeral in comparison.
The door hissed behind her, and Kayana turned, heart speeding up at the idea that Ax had followed her onto the bridge. Instead it was the holovid reporter, Berniss. She held Fluff cuddled in her arms, and a drone trailed in her wake to record the proceedings. Kayana kept her face neutral and offered the other woman a smile. “Berniss.”
The reporter inclined her head, fingers burrowing into Fluff’s thick fur. “Kayana. Plotting your next stop?”
“Wishing I didn’t have to. I rather liked this place.”
Berniss gave a whisper-thin laugh and ducked her face into Fluff. “I’m certain. Plenty of fond memories?”
She narrowed her eyes at the reporter’s insinuation and kept her response guarded. “Something like that. What brings you up here? I didn’t think you left the safe room.”
“I prefer to refer to it as the studio. And I’m busy operating the drones most of the time. The show’s not about me. Unless we’re doing an interview. Which reminds me, your contract obligates you to another—”
“I’m aware. I just haven’t had time yet.” Kayana needed to change the subject in a hurry, and she refused to give the reporter the satisfaction of bringing up Ax. The woman had already hinted that she knew more than she should, and it made Kayana wonder how many hidden cameras Octiron had placed in the village to get angles that the drones couldn’t.
The sixty-first maxim specified, Make the media do your dirty work for you, but she doubted Al’kheri ever had to deal with a hostile reporter. Still, the woman had to have done some research. “What can you tell me about Altaira?”
“It’s beautiful—thick temperate rainforests. Amazingly fertile volcanic soil. Stunning vistas and plenty of space.”
“Can the marketing larf. I’m serious.” Kayana folded her arms across her chest, making a point not to step closer to the reporter. Looking threatening was not the way to win her over or keep her talking. “When we reach the planet, will you be leaving the ship to join us?”
Berniss blanched. “I...well, someone will need to remain behind to edit footage and direct the drones, and...”
“So, it’s dangerous.”
“Oh yeah,” she let out a choked laugh. “Supposedly the planet was a major sticking point between two cultures centuries ago. They seeded it with all kinds of deathtraps and nightmare machines, just to keep it out of each other’s hands.” The color returned to her face, and bloodthirsty glee lit the woman’s voice. “It’s going to be great for ratings.”
“Assuming someone survives.” Kayana rolled her eyes. The focus on danger to spike ratings made perfect sense to her, but if the casualty rate was too high, they’d never get contestants for the next season. Honestly. It was as though the executives at Octiron had never read the Sixty-Six Maxims.
Berniss gave a half-hearted shrug in response. “Estimates are that at least thirty percent of competitors will make it off-world with their challenges complete.”
Fluff started to squirm in the reporter’s arms, and Berniss set the creature down. Almost immediately, it crossed the space to Kayana’s ankle and began bumping into her insistently. She sat down in the chair and extended her legs into a ramp that the furball could use to amble up into her lap for more attention. She could have sworn that the end Berniss had held up was now the trailing side of the creature. Not that it mattered. Something about petting the small animal soothed Kayana’s nerves.
“If you’ll allow me a moment to speak freely,” Berniss said in a conspiratorial whisper. “Ax isn’t who he says he is.”
“Meaning what, exactly?” Kayana thought about standing up, but it would have dumped Fluff off her lap, and she didn’t want to disturb it now that it was asleep.
“I’m just telling you, I did some research before interviewing him, and he didn’t exist five years ago. No mention of him anywhere.”
So he had a past. He’d implied as much before. “If you’re trying to undermine the team for ratings, that’s one thing. I don’t like it, but I understand. Or is this about you not liking him?”
Berniss made a gesture as though locking her lips shut. “I’ve said too much. Just...be careful.”
Kayana wanted to choke her but settled for spitting back, “That would be bad for ratings.”
The reporter nodded. “True enough.”
A moment later the AI’s enormous insectile avatar appeared in the room. “Ax Turner report to the Bridge.” The ship-wide comms carried its buzzing, clicking voice throughout the hull, making it feel everywhere at once.
“What’s going on?” Kayana asked. There was something afoot that she didn’t like, and her skin crawled in response to more than the AI’s disturbing appearance.
“When both teammates are assembled,” was the computer’s enigmatic reply.
Ax came in, hair wet from a shower and pulling a shirt over the toned muscles of his chest. She wished he’d told her he was going to bathe; she could have helped with his back. After all, there were many hard-to-reach spots that... She put that particular fantasy away but made a note to bring it up with him later.
Again with the later. It was becoming a frustrating habit, even when it wasn’t him initiating it.
“I’m here,” Ax said. “What’s up?”
The ship’s AI paced back and forth, drumming the claws on its forelegs against its sides and agitating its mouthparts. Finally, it buzzed out an answer. “This ship has received an emergency message from the Octiron Corporation, sponsors of the Great Space Race.”
“I know who they are. What message?” Ax sounded testy, but she noticed a tightening around his eyes. He was alarmed about something. It made Kayana wonder how much truth had been hidden in what the reporter had said. She was likely trying to create additional drama, but—
“Because of willful destruction of Octiron company property, namely one holovid drone, Team Corona has been docked twenty percent of their points.”
OKAY, Ax thought. There’s got to be a way out of this.
He took a deep breath. “That equipment was damaged during an attack on this ship which killed one crew member, and would have killed me too.” He tried to remember all the reasons a team could lose points, but the contract had been deliberately obfuscating on that front.
“The footage of the drone’s destruction was reviewed.” The vestigial wings on the AI’s abdomen fluttered in irritation. At least that’s what Ax assumed the gesture meant. “It clearly shows that the drone was damaged by crew member Ax Turner, who also made illegal modifications to the drone.”
“I was trying to hide! We were being boarded, and that thrice-damned drone had me lit up like high noon on Sycorax Prime.” He let his frustration out in a choked growl. “Why are we even arguing about this?”
“There’s no argument,” the AI replied. Ax could have sworn the giant bug had the equivalent of a smug grin on its mouthparts. “You have admitted to destroying the drone. Team Corona is docked twenty percent of its total points.”
He whirled on Berniss. “You put them up to this.” The shout startled Fluff out of Kayana’s lap, and the furball mopped across the floor to Berniss’s ankle. “Tell them something. The longer this takes, the longer you’re stuck with us.”
Berniss curled the corner of her lip. “You are mistaken. I was willing to accept the drone as a loss. Octiron made their decision independently.” She collected Fluff off the floor, and it immediately began to trill excitedly.
Ax rolled his eyes and turned back to the AI. “What about appeals?”
“Per your contract, the decisions of the Octiron Corporation in regard to scoring are final and unappealable.” It rustled its wing cases together in a sound that Ax was reasonably sure was malicious laughter.
The avatar vanished, and a few moments later the bright red text of the chyron rolled across the bridge screens. Team Corona Docked Twenty Percent.
“It’s fine, Ax.” Kayana stood and put a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll just go after a higher-scoring challenge on Altaira. That’s what they want anyway—to force us into more dangerous events for the sake of ratings.”
“Of course you’d say that. It’s your fault I had to destroy the damn thing in the first place.” The words came out before he could stop them, and he felt her flinch before she dropped her hand away. And there it was. He hadn’t even waited twenty-four hours to be a dumbass. He turned and grabbed her hand in both of his. “I’m sorry, Kaya. I... Being angry that we’re getting screwed here isn’t actually an excuse. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
“But you meant to snap at Berniss? She’s just doing her job. At least you have a right to be angry at me.”
“It was before we’d even met,” he protested. After a heartbeat, he turned to look at the reporter who was nuzzling Fluff. “I’m sorry, Berniss. It was wrong to accuse you.”
She let out an annoyed scoff. “Hasn’t stopped you from attacking me regardless.”
Ax managed to keep his eye roll in check. Her job was to be antagonistic. She’d said so herself. He turned back to Kay
ana and gave her hand a squeeze. “Okay, so show me what we’ve got for options.”
She looked at him like she wanted to say something else, but kept silent. After sitting down, she called up the list of challenges. As soon as she did, the team score in the upper right of the display rolled backwards to their new points total. She touched a few more controls, and part of the display shifted to a view of the nearby systems. “There are a couple of options. We can head straight for Altaira; there are plenty of higher-point challenges remaining, so we’d have our pick of them. But Berniss politely confirmed that the planet is, in fact, a deathtrap. Going in asking for trouble seems like a guaranteed way for one or both of us to get hurt.”
He nodded. “Can’t argue with that. I’m pretty partial to both of us being uninjured.”
She smirked, and the knot between his shoulders loosened slightly. If they could make each other laugh, he hadn’t ruined things beyond repair. Yet.
The AI reappeared. “The Octiron Corporation has informed me that a head-to-head challenge is available to your team, if you act quickly.”
Kayana and he looked up at the same time, but she spoke first. “What kind of head-to-head?”
“Several teams are allowed to compete in a tournament on the planet Vantor for a gem known as the Gambler’s Luck.”
That was a lot of risk riding on a game of chance. Or skill. Ax took a deep breath. “How many points?”
“Twenty-five.”
He tried to resist the thought that Octiron had penalized their score just to put them in this position. “That’s slightly more than we lost.”
“Gambling is safer than another big challenge on Altaira,” Kayana said.
“Clearly we are used to gambling with different kinds of people.” He looked over at the AI’s hologram. “How many teams?”
“At the moment, only one other team is competing. There may be other beings involved who are not part of the race.”