Erstwhile: A Sci-Fi Romance (The Jekh Saga Book 1)

by H. E. Trent

  Trig had sworn to himself that he’d never be so helpless again. He’d make decisions, even if he didn’t like to. He’d take care of himself and the man who loved him. Now, he had to take care of Court, too. She usually took charge and was very decisive, but at the moment, she couldn’t even complete simple tasks like fitting weapons into a bag.

  Murk led Jerry into the kitchen and tied his leash to a cabinet knob.

  “I packed all the dog food you had left for him,” Trig said for Court’s benefit. “Takes up a lot of space, but I don’t know if we’ll be able to get any near Little Gitano.”

  She nodded—a robotic bobbing of her head that seemed only to indicate that she’d heard him, and not that she’d been actively listening.

  He cut his gaze to Murk.

  Murk knelt next to her and pulled her into his arms. He pushed the hair away from her ear and kissed the side of her face.

  “We’re in the home stretch. We’re going to leave now. If anyone comes here while we’re grabbing our gear, we’ll deal with them.”

  He didn’t really think anyone would come. What Tim had done had been stupid and risky, and even if he pinned the crash on Court, she had enough bruises of her own to argue she’d been a victim. Her boss wouldn’t go looking for her, either. He’d just fire her the next time he saw her, which is likely what he’d wanted to do all along. He’d give her time to disobey and build his case against her, and there she’d be, unemployed and desperate for assistance.

  Well, Court wouldn’t be going to work anymore. Hopefully, by the time anyone realized she was gone, they’d be a thousand miles away and so far off the grid no one short of the gods would be able to find them.

  Trig took her hand and gave it a pay attention squeeze. “Ready?”

  Her gaze tracked up to him, but she didn’t seem to be seeing him, but rather through him. “Huh?”

  “I’m going now to get the flyer. Be ready to pile in as soon as I get here.” If he ever got his hands on the asshole who’d shaken her so thoroughly to her core, he’d make sure the man never drew another breath.

  “Okay.” She unwound Jerry’s leash from the handle and nodded. “I’ll…go walk him.”

  “And call your sister. Tell her you’re leaving.”

  She did that robotic nod again. “I’ll send her a text. Harder to trace.”

  Trig gave Murk’s shoulder a squeeze, checked that the knife was still sheathed beneath his shirt, and started for the back door.

  Hopefully the flyer was fully charged, or else they’d have a hell of a time getting up to disappearing speed.

  ___

  “Goddammit.”

  The commissioner hated playing her good cards before she was ready, but if she didn’t step in soon, all of her good work of the past ten years was going to come undone.

  She might have to call one of her men into the office and have him take some protective measures, but she hoped the situation wouldn’t come to that.

  Reg wasn’t even back on the planet yet, and already, half the agencies in Buinet were in a tizzy, fearing his callous retribution.

  McGarry had ended her match agreement—and good for her, in the commissioner’s opinion, but she knew better than anyone that Reg wasn’t the kind of man who liked being told no. He was too much like his father, and his father had been one of Jekh’s very first tyrants.

  Fortunately, he was dead.

  And fortunately, the commissioner had divorced him before they’d left Earth, separately, for Jekh.

  Unfortunately, her impressionable young son had sided with his father during the separation.

  There was no hope for Reg.

  That didn’t mean Lillian couldn’t save everyone else from him. Sometimes, mothers had to make unfathomable choices. Hers had been a long time in coming, but she was at peace with her decision.

  She wasn’t going to let him hurt anyone. He should have expected that she would eventually suppress him, but he only saw her as a woman.

  In Reg’s estimation—like his father’s—she wasn’t worth much at all.

  Big mistake.

  ___

  Court laid her forearm over her eyes and let out a sigh.

  So bright. Why didn’t we close the curtains before going to bed?

  She curled her toes and found them shod, and her leg muscles sore. For that matter, the entire right side of her body ached. Her wrist throbbed, sharp pains stabbed within her elbow, and her ribs…

  Right.

  She remembered.

  She’d tossed herself out of a careening electric car, and then she and the men had fled Buinet.

  Slowly, she peeled her arm away from her eyes and opened them. Cringing at the blindingly orange sun, she sat up to find the flyer parked, the streamlined doors pulled down and open, and a hooded child peering into the backseat at her.

  She sat up, searching frantically for the men.

  Where the hell am I?

  Mountains loomed in the near distance with miles and miles of black sand in front of them. She’d seen that black sand before—when she’d been out trading with Amy.

  And she recognized the tribal markings on the child’s sweet face. The people they’d traded with had them, too.

  Just a child. Won’t hurt me.

  Forcing a swallow down her parched throat, Court laid a hand over her unsettled belly. “Well, hello, sweetie,” she said.

  The child ran off, shouting something in a tongue Court didn’t grasp. Not quite Jekhani, but close enough, maybe.

  Moments later, Trig appeared bearing a jug of water and what looked like some sort of fruit. Behind him was a familiar man—one whom had done a trade with her and Amy. Court had given him her grandmother’s ring.

  “We’re at the east edge of the desert.” Trig handed her the water, and she gulped the cool liquid down thirstily.

  “Pretty quiet ride,” he said. “We did pass a couple of manned guard stations, but we were moving too fast for them to catch up to us or identify us. I did some creative piloting and obscured our direction until I could get us going fast enough.”

  “I slept through all that?”

  He nodded. “I think you needed the rest.”

  “Why are we stopped?”

  “I needed to get a couple of hours of sleep before we moved on, and I knew Orinot would be a safe place.”

  She set down the water jug and dragged her sleeve across her wet lips. “I’ll keep watch while you sleep.”

  “I’ve already slept. We’ve been here since before dawn.”

  “Dawn?” She furrowed her brow. “What time is it now?”

  “Past lunchtime. I’m just waiting on a bit of fuel. Our friends here are going to give us a little ore so we can maintain speed. Without it, the trip will take close to a week, and I really want to put some more distance between Buinet and us. The wind through the plains will slow our progress significantly. Flying through them might be even slower than your four-wheeled ground vehicles for all the zigzagging I’ll have to do.”

  The hooded man leaned into the flyer and cupped her chin in his hand.

  She flinched, awaiting a squeeze, but he just assessed her gently, turning her face from one side to the other.

  He muttered something to Trig, and Trig grunted.

  “Your scrape,” Trig said when she raised an eyebrow at him. “They have a salve. He thinks it’d be a pity for you to scar.”

  The man gave him a nudge.

  Trig grinned. “Actually, his exact words were that you have a face a man wouldn’t want to put a sack over—an old joke amongst the people here. With so few women to choose from, a man doesn’t always have the luxury of being picky.”

  She chuckled, and grimaced at the pain the convulsion caused her bruised ribs. “You Jekhans need to work on your flirting. I’ll look in the back and see what we have to trade.”

  The man put up his hands. “No trade. Gift.”

  “Why?”

  “We owe.” The man shouted something beyond
the small copse of squatty trees they’d parked near. From one of the earthen buildings beside the narrow stream came a young woman. She was simply dressed in the way many of the Jekhan women in Buinet preferred in a long, roomy tunic, and was unadorned beyond some delicate ink work across her upper chest and shoulders. She didn’t need more than that. With her glossy black hair, soulful eyes—the reddest Courtney had seen to date—and generous smile, she was pretty without pretense.

  She pulled a light chain out from her dress and held out the ruby ring it bore.

  “She like,” the man said proudly.

  Trig cleared his throat. “That was his first gift to her.”

  “That’s a good gift,” Court agreed. She was glad the lady liked it. The ring had been special.

  “We don’t have precious stones of that color here,” Trig said. “The stone is probably considered quite valuable for its rareness.”

  “Well, the ring had sentimental value to me, of course, but it hadn’t been especially expensive when my grandfather made the purchase. It was the best he could do.”

  He’d picked a large ruby over a small diamond and hoped her grandmother wouldn’t be humiliated by the choice. She’d loved her ring, though. She’d loved everything he gave her, large and small. She’d cherished the ring until her fingers were too swollen, and then she’d given all her jewelry to Court and Erin.

  Seeing that joy on the Jekhan’s woman’s face dulled the pain of having traded the ring away. Court hoped it would be an heirloom for them one day just like had been in her family. As much as giving the ring away had hurt, the trade had been a fair one in Court’s opinion. She would have given them more if she’d had anything worth trading.

  With a groan, she heaved herself out of the backseat and fondled the embroidered sleeve of the woman’s dress. The cuffs were covered with black flowers similar in shape to Earth’s violets, densely stitched near the edges and thinning as the vines twined up to her elbows. “Pretty.”

  “You want?” the man asked.

  Court shook her head hard and pulled her hands back. “No! Yes, the dress is lovely, but it’s customary for polite people where I’m from to compliment things they find beautiful. No hidden agendas, just appreciation for someone’s hard work.”

  “Ah. She made.”

  “She makes good.”

  He tipped his chin up, narrowing his eyes as if he had to give that serious thought. He probably knew fuck-all about dresses.

  “Ooh. I know what I could give you.” Court limped to the back of the flyer and opened the storage compartment. She hoped there were a couple of chocolate bars in there.

  Fortunately, she found a full box nestled beside Jerry’s kibble, and packed beneath several re-freezable ice packs. Whether that had been Trig’s or Murk’s doing, she couldn’t say, but she found the gesture sweet. She hadn’t thought they’d noticed her minor addiction.

  She pulled out two packs of chocolate turtles and three sleeves of plain milk chocolate and bumped the door shut. Returning to their hosts, she cleared her throat. “Um…no trade. I’d like to give you a gift, too. I don’t know how much chocolate you get out here. You’ll need to get it someplace cool. Chocolate melts quickly.”

  “Chocolate…what is?” he asked.

  “Oh. A sweet. Um…”

  Trig took over explaining in that tongue that was not quite Standard Jekhani.

  “Ah. Is good for trade?” the man asked.

  Trig chuckled. “Is good for eat.”

  The man gave one sleeve of chocolate-caramel turtles and one milk chocolate bar to his lover and pocketed the other three. He pointed to his cheek, approximately where her scrape seemed to start. “You go. Fix.”

  Court furrowed her brow.

  “Fix.” The woman grabbed her arm and herded her toward the low buildings, chattering all the way.

  Court had no idea what she was saying, but suspected the commentary had something to do with Court’s disheveled state as she kept patting her hair and indicating the ripped uniform she hadn’t been in the right mind to change the night before.

  Twenty minutes later, she emerged from the living quarters of the woman—whose name had turned out to sound very similar to Ruth, and so Court called her that in her head—to find Murk leaning against the building, grinning. He eyed her from head to toe and gave an appreciative grunt.

  She couldn’t help feeling a bit scandalized. Although he’d pinned his hair and had less of that ravishing pirate look about him, his grin was predatory. She couldn’t imagine why, seeing as very little about her person wasn’t left to the imagination, and she was greasier than a teenaged boy’s forehead from all the salve she’d had smeared on her. Ruth had pulled one of those long, light dresses onto her—a faint lilac one—and pantomimed a bloated belly.

  Court got the gist. She’d need the room, and apparently someone had clued Ruth in that Court was with child. Evidently, Ruth didn’t need such a garment herself. Her lack of prominent breasts indicated she hadn’t yet given birth, and Court guessed that had a lot to do with the fact she and Auri hadn’t yet taken another lover. They were young, still. They had time.

  Murk strode over and pulled Court’s body against his, her back to his front, and pressed his lips against her neck

  “Well, hello.” She giggled and laid her head to the side to allow him unfettered access to the bend of her neck. “You smell nice. Did you have a bath?” Ruth had alluded that there was a large soaking tub available in the building behind her living quarters. Or at least, that was what Court thought she was saying.

  Murk grunted and slid his hands up her torso, cupping her tender breasts.

  “Murk,” she warned. She righted herself and grabbed his wrists. A few of the local men milled around nearby, half their attention on some metal scraps they were separating, and half on her and Murk.

  His lips kept searing, his hands kept working.

  Her nipples hardened into aching peaks against her new dress, and every bit of friction made her loins tighten and her toes curl. There was a fine line between public displays of affection and exhibitionism, and given how Murk was grinding his very hard cock against her back, she suspected they were veering closer to the latter. She had numerous kinks, but she hadn’t thought that was one of them.

  Trig jogged over with Jerry on his lead.

  Rescue!

  He leaned in and whispered, “Don’t struggle.”

  “What?” So…not rescue?

  Confusion fogged her brain. She was usually much better at reading social cues, but she was out of sorts with the situation at hand.

  He whispered, “If you pull away from him, the men watching will believe that you disrespect him.”

  “What?”

  “It’s a sort of custom. Murk’s your first man. He’s expected to flaunt his woman if he likes the way she looks.”

  “That’s perfectly chauvinistic,” she spat back.

  Trig’s lips skimmed along her jaw, drawing a gasp from her. He so rarely initiated touch, so her body’s response was instant and strong. “That’s your perspective, but our women would be pleased.”

  “I’m not one of your women.”

  Murk pressed his hand down her torso and cupped her cunt through her dress.

  She stifled a moan.

  “We haven’t forgotten that,” Trig said. “But we are what we are. I try to be as considerate of you as I can, and I’m sure Murk does, too, but we are Jekhan. Would it hurt so much for you to try to understand what that means?”

  “Hurt? No.” But she certainly didn’t want to feel like she was on the end of a leash just like Jerry was. She’d always been the one in control, and the fact that Murk seemed to have taken the reins away from her created an ongoing war in her head. She liked being under his authority at times, but…also didn’t.

  She sighed. “I’m trying to understand. Really, I am. There’s not exactly a guidebook for this. I was never supposed to interact with Jekhan males.”

  “But
you did. Would you leave us now? Are we so disposable for you?”

  “No, but—”

  “Just endure him, Courtney. Please. That’s all I ask of you. Just endure him around others if you’re able. You can fight with us later.”

  “Fine.” As if she needed permission to fight.

  Trig headed back toward the small grove of trees leaving her and Murk to their exhibitionism.

  “I will kill you,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “Mm-hmm.” He inched her dress up in the back and palmed her ass, parting her cheeks.

  “We’re not fucking right here.” With much trepidation, she glanced at the nearby men, who were now very interested indeed in the spectacle. Their hungry gazes seemed to bore right through her, past the opaque fabric of her skirt to the apex Murk’s hand worked over.

  They couldn’t see from where they were how he’d pulled her panties aside and stuffed his fingers into her wet slit. They could, however, probably see the burn of her cheeks and probably guess that he was touching her in some sexual way. She kept opening her mouth to gasp, only to bite down hard on her bottom lip.

  Yep, gonna kill him.

  She pushed up onto her tiptoes as he thrust his fingers in and out of her, pounding her clit beneath his knuckles. His free hand moved over her breasts, cupping, kneading, pinching the peaks.