by Eve Langlais
“What’s she doing?” she asked.
“Shhh.” The witch flung more juice at her. It hit her flesh and tingled. Then burned. A moment later, she was on her knees, writhing, mouth open wide on a scream that wouldn’t escape. When it was done, she was curled in a ball.
A stranger crouched beside her. “You all right there, princess?” The words sounded like Damon and yet…
“Who are you?”
He laughed and held out his hand. “Your husband for the next hour. Come on. We need to move before the spell wears off.”
A spell, as in magic. Or, as the witches claimed in their marketing, a temporary suspension of belief and science.
A glimpse in a mirror showed her looking like… “A man? You made me a man?” she squeaked. Just proving her point that the male crew had some kind of affliction because, sure enough, she looked like an ensign, uniform and all.
“We’ll stand out less when we take the shortcut.”
“There’s a shortcut?”
Apparently, there was an aerial tram back to the space launch, closely watched by soldiers. She tucked close to Damon. “Are you sure they can’t tell it’s us?”
“Keep talking and we’ll find out.”
She clamped her lips shut.
The tram arrived, and the doors opened. The soldiers watched everyone getting on. Especially the women.
Looking for me?
She sat down, and a chair suctioned her butt into it. She began to relax as the strange body Damon wore sat across from her. He tapped his fingers on the armrest. The tram took its time leaving the station.
“What are they waiting for?”
They waited for more soldiers to enter the train and slowly walk the aisle while the passengers chatted. She didn’t feel like chattering, but knew it would look odd if she didn’t.
“What did you buy in the marketplace?” she asked, startled by the distinctly male voice that emerged from her lips.
“Present for the wife.”
Wife? That’s me! “Oh. What did you get?”
Before he could reply, the soldiers reached them. A fellow in a black facemask, only his dark eyes showing, perused her. “Name and ship.”
She had only a second to think. “Lieutenant Goweranski. The Gypsy Moth.”
“Proof please.” They held out a device, a scanner of the type she’d seen Damon using to pay for products. She knew what would happen if she put her hand on it. The disguise would fail. She shot a panicked look at Damon, only to see him rising from his seat. “Fucking pigs,” he yelled before darting out the door.
She almost joined him even as she realized he acted to draw the guards away. There was shouting outside the tram doors, and she half rose to see him being tackled to the ground, the guards having gotten wind of the fact that his shield protected him from attack.
The door swished suddenly shut, and the tram moved, leaving him behind. She felt a moment’s panic.
I have to go back. To do what? She didn’t have the skills to save him. But she knew someone who did.
The moment the tram arrived at the spaceport, she spilled out and went running. The Gypsy Moth loomed on the tarmac, a hulking ghost ship compared to the smaller, sleeker vessels, but an ally. She sprinted past the crew returning to it, weaving around them until she reached the ship. She slapped a hand against the first communication console she found, wishing her religion didn’t ban the use of embedded technology. Times like these, she could have used a communication device. “Ship, give me the captain.”
“The captain is busy at this time. Please leave a message.”
“This is important.”
“Message received.”
She blinked at the wall. “No, that wasn’t my message. I need his help. Now. They took Damon.”
“All personnel, please board the vessel and prepare for departure,” the computer announced, the volume of it loud enough to add haste to the stragglers still entering.
She stood to the side, frustrated. I can’t leave him here.
Her sister might not kill him because, after all, a living yet absent husband wasn’t impregnating her, but she wasn’t sure about the Kanishqui commander.
A light framing the door began to flash. A final warning to get on the ship.
Only Michi still remained outside. She took a deep breath. She was probably making a colossal mistake, and yet she remained on the tarmac. Walked away from the ship actually.
Someone had to save Damon. While she lacked any kind of skill to do so, she was wagering on one important thing.
Given who her daddy was, the captain wouldn’t leave without her. Which was why she lifted her head high when the soldiers surrounded her and Michi demanded, quite imperially, “Take me to my husband.”
Chapter 11
The room they marched Damon to didn’t contain much. A chain dangling from the ceiling. A stain on the floor.
This is gonna hurt.
Yet, what else could he do? He knew those soldiers were looking for a woman. His woman.
He’d sacrificed himself to save her, but that didn’t mean he was going to accept the torture easily. And yes, he assumed torture because they hadn’t killed him the moment they managed to deactivate his body shield.
Despite his manacled hands, Damon caused some trouble—head butting a guard, lashing out with his feet—but they overcame him by sheer number, tackling him to the floor then dragging him upright to chain him.
He dangled, arms pulled taut, his toes barely scraping the floor. It put him in a rather precarious predicament when Fizz, that tentacled bastard, made an appearance. Given he was planet-side, the giant octopus male wore a hoverharness, allowing his body to float above the ground.
He also held a whip.
Gushing sewage through a grate. *Mangy human. How dare you think to steal what was promised me?
Since cockiness couldn’t make things much worse, Damon retorted, “Not my fault she chose the better man.”
Slap. The slimy tentacle whipped across his face, leaving a trail of slime behind.
*You stole her.
“She chose me. We’re married, slimeball. Get over it. Find yourself a new woman.”
*It’s not over. And she won’t be married to you for long. Fizz gestured, and someone approached, a short roach-like creature, his orange carapace bright, his many eyes unblinking. He held some kind of device.
“Open your mouth.” The stilted words were robotic sounding as the roach thing spoke.
“The orphanage taught me not to listen to strangers.”
“I am Doctor Pinceaux. Open.”
“Why?”
“The word is you want a divorce. We’re here to grant it.”
A divorce?
*Hurry up. Fizz jiggled with impatience.
“This is a delicate procedure,” the doctor advised. “Hold him still. And open his mouth.” The guards approached, and Damon twisted in his chains, only to freeze as a commotion outside the room drew everyone’s attention.
The door slid open, and Fizz burbled, *What is it? Why do you disturb me?
Someone was thrust into the space, and Damon could have groaned when he saw Michonne suddenly appear.
The Kanishqui commander jiggled with giddiness, a swirling soup of sloshing excitement. *Excellent. This will make things even easier.
Easier to do what? Damon didn’t think he’d like the answer.
“I thought you escaped?” he hissed as Michonne flew to his side and surveyed him, her lower lip caught between her teeth.
“I did. But the ship was going to leave without you.”
“And you should have gone with it. Why the hell didn’t you go?”
She shrugged. “You’re my husband.”
*Not for long.
The doctor approached. “Hold him still while I remove the mark.”
“Remove?” Michonne whirled. “You can’t remove it. It will kill him.”
“An unfortunate side effect.”
*Fear
not, you won’t be widowed long. The doctor has found a way to transfer the mark without a reset or waiting period.
“You can’t do that.” Michonne tried to shield Damon with her body, but it took only a single Kanishqui guard to hold her out of the way.
The approaching roach raised his device, and no matter how Damon squirmed, he couldn’t escape the guards holding his mouth open.
Just as the whirring device got close, the door blasted open. He blinked at the dust and then grinned as the chain overhead suddenly let loose.
He immediately brought his hands forward, still tethered, and clubbed the nearest guard. Who dropped his weapon.
“Grab it,” Damon shouted to Michonne, who stared wide-eyed at the chaos.
Captain Jameson had arrived, wielding a huge gun—the kind that left big holes—and he was shooting anything that moved. Which worked great on the guards, but Fizz wasn’t going down.
“Fucker stole my body shield.” What Fizz didn’t know was it had a limited battery life.
Damon held up his tethered hands and shouted, “Twelve o’clock.”
It was Ivan, with a wide grin, who raised a gun and fired. Damon’s hands split apart, still wearing bracelets, but at least now he could join the fight.
Michonne had grabbed a weapon and backed herself against the wall. Probably the best spot for her since more bodies floated into the room, the Kanishqui crew coming to help their commander.
Damon dove at a waving tentacle and wrestled away a gun. He joined the captain, Ivan, and the ensigns who were laying down weapon fire.
But everyone froze when they heard the big splash.
*Stop or I kill the heiress.
Fizz had managed to capture Michonne and held her against him. She looked more pissed than scared. However, Damon was scared enough for the two of them given Fizz held a knife to her throat.
“He won’t kill me,” she stated. “He wants my fortune.”
Gurgling, laughing brook. *If I can’t have your fortune, then I will settle for a boon from your sibling.
“Lunilla won’t reward you for killing me.”
*Your sister harbors great hatred for you.
Speaking of whom, Lunilla strode into the room and replied, “I hate her yes, but I would never reward anyone for killing my baby sister. And how dare you even assume that.” Lunilla raised her gun. Fizz managed to have his tentacles look smug, and then he was sushi as her shot blew off the top of his head.
The battery on his shield had run out.
And so had their invitation to the planet.
Chapter 12
Michonne and the crew of the Gypsy Moth weren’t the only ones asked to depart the planet. Lunilla and her entourage had to leave, too. But at least she fared better than the Kanishqui. For their violent actions against La’zuun guests, they were rounded up and taken prisoner. Some whispered they would make a fine stew.
Gag.
Michonne did manage a hug with her sister before they were taken to their respective ships. She whispered, “Thanks for coming to my aid.”
“I hope you’re barren,” was her sister’s reply.
Aboard the ship, there was some chaos as they prepared to depart. With nothing to do, she went to her room while Damon went to give his report to the captain.
She flopped onto the bed. Alive and kind of amazed. When she’d made the split-second decision to save Damon, she’d not thought it through very well. She’d acted. Acted to save the man who consumed her thoughts. When she’d seen him, suspended and bloody, she’d been so worried. What if her plan failed? What if he died?
She didn’t want him to die. Because I care about him.
They’d known each other only a short time, and yet he’d come to mean something to her. He was her husband, and today, by sacrificing himself, he’d shown himself also to be her protector.
And soon, her lover.
When the door finally opened, she was ready.
“Husband.” She greeted him with a soft smile and not a stitch of clothing. His eyes widened. His wounds had been tended and his skin cleaned. However, that didn’t stop her from taking him by the hand and leading him into the bathing chamber.
He studied her as she stripped him, acting as his servant, revealing all that lovely taut flesh.
“Why did you come back?”
“I thought I already answered this,” she said, disposing of his clothes and trying to keep her gaze averted from his thickening cock.
“You did, but I don’t understand. You could have escaped. Avoided that mess.”
“That would have involved leaving you to die.”
“And?” He held a question in his eyes.
She placed her hands on his chest, feeling the heat of him through her palms. “I don’t want you to die. Husband.” She said the word low, and he growled.
“Marriage to you is dangerous.”
“It is.”
“You’re dangerous.”
The cleansing air jets turned on as she tilted her head. “How am I dangerous?”
His hands spanned her waist and drew her into the molten heat of his body. “Because you make me want things.”
“Like?” she whispered.
He didn’t reply, rather instead crushed his mouth to hers, instantly igniting the passion that always simmered between them.
She opened her mouth that their tongues might dance. The heat of their breath mingled. Their skin touched, awakening a tingling from head to toe, and especially in between. She found herself shoved against the smooth wall of the shower unit, her butt pressed right against the spot one of the lights tried to beam and clean. It heated her skin, but she didn’t care as he braced himself against her, one hand on the wall, the other reaching to cup a breast. She arched at the contact, pushing the curve of her breast further into his palm.
He brushed his thumb over it and murmured against her lips, “I can’t believe I’m here with you.”
The reminder of how close they’d come to losing each other brought on a fierce need. She grabbed his head and kissed him hard, their teeth banging, and still she couldn’t get enough of him.
He tore his mouth from hers, and she mewled in protest, only to sigh as he ducked his head that he might brush his lips across the tip of her breast. Electrifying. Her whole body quivered. Then went rigid as he sucked on the erect nipple.
“Yes,” she gasped, only to cry out as he bit down on the tip. He swirled his tongue around the peak before sucking at it again, tugging at her flesh.
She closed her eyes, losing herself in the enjoyment. Feeling every suck and nibble not only on her breasts but between her legs, too.
The play went two ways. As he touched her, so did she touch him, her hands stroking over his broad shoulders, raking her nails on his skin.
She stroked lower, running her fingers down his ribcage to his buttocks. She dug her fingers into that taut flesh, and he grunted. But he didn’t stop playing. Damon alternated between tugging on her taut nipples with his lips and licking them. When he bit down, her whole body jerked.
She parted her legs for the insistent thrust of his thigh and then rode it, rubbing her mound against him, the hard muscle providing a friction for her throbbing sex.
When he replaced that thigh with his cock, she grabbed it, delighted to have something harder to play with. She used it to rub her clitoris, the fat head of his shaft just right for stimulating her.
He groaned. “If you don’t stop…”
He’d lose control? What a lovely thing to say.
Arousal coursed through her body. She was more than ready for him, and yet he seemed intent on teasing.
And pleasing.
He dropped to his knees, spread her thighs, and palmed her buttocks, pulling her forward against his mouth. She groaned at the first lick.
Moaned at the second.
He lashed her with his tongue, back and forth, drawing panted cries. He stabbed into her, licking at her honey before teasing her button again.
Only then did he finally stand, the throbbing tip of his cock poking at her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he lifted her, aligning her with his body, plunging his shaft into her welcoming sheath.
He might have growled, “Mine.” She knew she did. The thrust rammed him right through her maidenhead, stretched her, and claimed in a way her mark never did. Brought her more pleasure than she could have imagined.
For a moment, she could have sworn time slowed, and within that pocket only she and Damon existed. Two souls combining into one.
Then the climax hit. And by climax, she meant she lost her mind. She certainly keened and cried out as her body shuddered with the ecstasy of it. She thought she heard him shout as he spurted hotly into her body.
In that moment, she knew this was the only man for her. Her husband. She had never felt anything more right.
And when it was done, he caught her in his arms and buried his face in her arm. Just held her. Didn’t ruin it with words. Didn’t say anything at all. But when they were snuggled in bed, naked, their bodies intertwined, she happily murmured, “Thank you.”
His reply? “Always.”
Their next session proved just an intense. As did the one after. They indulged several times that night. Yet she awoke refreshed and smiling to find him watching her.
“Good morning, wife.”
“Is it morning already?” She stretched and noted how his gaze watched, and smoldered. “I’m surprised you’re still here. Shouldn’t you be off exercising with your friends?”
“I took the day off to relax.”
By relax he meant spend it with her. In bed. It was heavenly. The days following that pure bliss. It was also a time of discovery.
As he got called on various tasks, sometimes dragging her along, she began to understand what he did on the ship. Pretty much anything the captain couldn’t. Which kept Damon busy. But not so busy that he ignored her when his workday was done.