by Elsa Jade
The lights overhead seemed to throb with her exhausted heartbeat. When Luc collapsed over her, the lights dimmed. He wasn’t just blocking them; the lurid sparkles had faded as their frantic breaths slowed.
She closed her eyes as she traced lazy spirals over the small of his back. “The lights are timed to our fucking?”
He nodded into the crook of her neck. “Inspiration for the honeymooners.”
“So the computer was watching us?”
“Maybe a few galaxies too.”
Her eyes flew open and she eeped in alarm.
His arms clamped around her when she would’ve jerked upright. “I’m joking. I scanned for recording equipment in this room when I took possession of the ship. There’s actually nothing aboard except the cockpit comm.”
That seemed weird for a show like theirs. But she was too spent to think about it. Also, she was glad that hadn’t been broadcast around the universe. Not just because having sex with Luc was private, but because it was…perfect.
Her idle hands on his back stilled. Perfect? That sure was putting a lot of pressure on a guy she barely knew and a situation she barely understood. But here she was petting him, practically hugging him, in return for the best orgasm—orgasms—of her life.
“Luc…” Unsure what she wanted to say to him, she trailed off.
He rolled to one side, taking her with him, and she caught her breath again at the strength and gentleness in him as they nestled together, the light above them flickering like a low, romantic fireplace. How had some drakling woman not snapped him up? But he was going off to his brothers’ weddings soon, where likely there’d be a lot of prowling predatory females in the mating mood… She scowled.
He brushed a lock of damp hair off her temple. “What is that ferocious look for?” A furrowed line appeared between his brows. “Did I not please you?”
“No!” She pushed herself up onto one elbow and splayed her hand on his chest. “I mean yes. You made me come twice.”
His mouth twisted to one side. “How many times should it have been?”
“Once!”
The quirk of his lips turned decidedly satisfied. “My math skills must have failed me.”
She collapsed back beside him. “Good. It was…very good.”
He curled his arm behind her shoulders and tucked her close again. “I’m sorry I almost killed you.”
Tilting her head up, she studied the tension in his jaw. “Did I scream that loud?”
He angled his gaze down to her. “The collapsing tunnel. Blasting the mites.”
“Thanks for saving me.”
“I wouldn’t have had to if I hadn’t brought you here.”
“The race brought us here.” She put her finger over his lower lip when he drew a breath to argue. “The risks are real. We didn’t know that before, but now we do. And we have the first of the queen’s gems. So don’t even think of giving up.”
He nipped at her fingertip. “Next gem, you stay on the ship.”
“Not a chance.”
“I won’t risk you,” he growled. “Any mistake—”
“It was a mistake that brought me here in the first place,” she reminded him. That truth struck her hard. All her life, she’d been afraid of making mistakes, of not measuring up and doing—being—what people expected. And yet she’d kept failing anyway. This time… “Luc.” She rested her hand on his shoulder, the texture of his scales massaging her palm as he moved restlessly. “There might be dangers…okay, okay, there’ve already been dangers, but I’m not going to let my fear of fucking up again stand in the way of something good.”
He let out a breath that deflated his wide chest, rocking her even closer to him. “Something good like fucking me?”
She kissed the pulse point under his jaw. “Exactly like that.”
“You’re saying being here, with me, in this bed, was a mistake.”
“My best one yet.”
He grunted.
She angled over him to land on his chest and he oofed out another breath. Bracing her elbows on the points of his shoulders and cradling her chin in her cupped palms, she stared down at him thoughtfully. “I think Team Prism is destined to be a Great Space Race favorite.” She rotated her fist to point her knuckles at him. “Teammates to the end, yeah?”
Bumping his knuckles against hers, he half closed his eyes, veiling the gold with shades of deep jade. “Since we have the team part mastered”—he enclosed her fist with his long fingers—“maybe we should run through the mating part one more time.” He flipped her underneath him.
The disco pyramid lights above them sparkled with renewed life, and she gasped as his erection thickened again. “Anything to win.”
He stroked his fingertip delicately over the throbbing bud of her sensitized clit while he sheathed himself in the hot, slick melding of their carnal climax. Dipping his head to slant his mouth hard over hers, he swallowed her moan.
“Ah,” he murmured. “I’ve found another of the queen’s gems right here. Lucky me.”
Lucky her. As his clever fingers urged her into a fractural fractal spiral of pleasure, she thought hazily that she’d blown her mind with the existence of aliens and spaceships and she was risking her life on this crazy race, but she suspected the real danger wasn’t to her mind or her fully exposed body.
If she wasn’t careful, she might make the mistake of venturing her heart.
Chapter 12
After they showered again and rebandaged their various wounds, Amy fell into an exhausted slumber. Luc didn’t blame her. It had been a demanding day, replete with terrors and wonders. As he rose carefully from the bed so as not to disturb her, he smoothed one hand over the long black strands of her hair spread across the pillow. The texture was so silky he barely felt it, and yet it pleased him nonetheless.
She was the most wondrous.
“Anabolic state optimal for rest,” the ship’s comm whispered. “Shhh.”
Luc forced himself out of the room before he forced himself on her again, and the pyramid light overhead dimmed to shadows as he took his roiling energy away from her. As much as she had seemed to enjoy his touch, she needed sleep more. At least for now. Even as his accountant half fretted at the calculation of the likelihood of them encountering trouble, his drakling soul adored her boldness, not just in bed but her refusal to back down from the challenges ahead. She was small but mighty, innocent but magnificent.
He wanted to go back into the bedroom and claim her as his mate.
Chaining the ardent need smoldering inside him, he silently closed the bedroom door and headed up to the cockpit, as far away as he could get on the small Blissed. The ship was designed for intimacy, and every place she wasn’t felt empty to him. But he needed some time to think without the distraction of her, without the pain in his wounds egging the violent side of himself to take command. He fingered the numbing adhesive bandages spread across his shoulders and back, some in places he wouldn’t have been able to reach on his own without her. His teammate.
He slapped his open palm against the armrests of the chair as he settled himself with a curse. Team Prism had been behind from the start, and this unplanned diversion into a world of pleasure he hadn’t expected had only eaten up more of their time.
The beast within him coiled restlessly; speaking of eating, it would like to nibble on her more. There were secret places of his infamous interstellar explorer that he hadn’t yet explored…
With a growl of annoyance at his erotically wandering thoughts, he swiveled to focus on his research screen. He’d uploaded all of his idle calculations based on the cadences of the Firestone Queen’s poem, but he wasn’t quite sure where that led them next. He studied the equations, keeping in mind that for all their passion for poems and instinctive mastery of stormwind trajectories, draklings were most known for their affinity for treasure. Where was the second gem hidden in this vast galaxy?
He lost himself in the purely intellectual exercise for awhile, relieved
at the diversion. The numbers twisted and teased, just outside an easy solution, but they were still less confusing than the feelings of the creature awakening in his soul.
When the comm pinged with an incoming query, he growled in annoyance. The contact was coded for security so he couldn’t tell who was calling, but his concentration was already broken so he smacked the acceptance. “Identify.”
“Luc baby, it’s me.” Rickster’s writhing tentacles filled the screen for a moment before he stepped back. “How’s it floating?”
Luc swallowed a grumble. Barely. “We’re still alive,” he said, unable to completely contain the edge to his voice.
“Right on. You found the first gem.” Tentacles wound around each other delightedly, working up a thin froth. “Do you have an estimate of its worth yet?”
Since the Ajellomene assistant producer must already know the value of the fake Heart’s Flame considering Octiron had planted the gem, Luc frowned in confusion. But wait, maybe this was for the audience. He managed a tight smile. “It’s stunning. Dare I say priceless?”
Of course there was a price: the payment he’d receive if Team Prism won the race. And the reward would be the look of astonishment—maybe even gleeful pride—on his brothers’ faces when they saw the whole extravaganza.
“Can I…see it?” Rickster dripped a little froth on the screen as his tentacles seemed to reach forward longingly.
Luc managed not to recoil at the gloop. “I think it’ll be more impressive when all three gems are together, don’t you?” The tantalizing delay would increase interest, he hoped. Addendums in the Octiron contract had specified bonus credits if certain viewer thresholds were crossed.
“We’re not recording right now. Show me.” Rickster snapped his tentacles outward, as if in irritation, although Luc couldn’t figure out why. The assistant producer had to have been part of the setup for Team Prism, so he must’ve seen all the gems already. Just like he must’ve known the mine on Am-Syx was practically boobytrapped and the hive-mites were loose.
Anger at Octiron’s callous disregard for safety overwhelmed Luc’s interest in playing the part of the complacent, befuddled accountant. “No,” he said in a low voice. He leaned forward to stare hard into the screen. “Won’t be anything to see next time either if we die in the attempt. You didn’t even have a rescue crew on hand if we’d gotten into trouble.” More trouble, he thought grimly. “Does the Galactic Employment Standards Commission know about these hazardous working conditions?”
Rickster made a burbling noise—an Ajellomene laugh, Luc realized. “Standards? Who cares about standards? Not Octiron Corp. It’s about ratings, baby. And your only value is last episode’s viewership and sponsor credits.” The tentacles shrank in a way that looked deflated. “And if a team’s whole season goes bad? Forget about it.”
“No ratings, viewers, or credits if we’re crushed under a rock fall or dissolved by mite acid,” Luc snapped back.
“Well, actually…” The Ajellomene rubbed his tentacles over his upper end, smoothing back the smaller tendrils. “But you’re right. We need you alive to retrieve the other gems or it’s all over.”
Surprised that the producer was willing to concede, Luc pressed his advantage. “Tell me about the next challenge.”
“I…don’t know.”
He wanted to reach through the comm to throttle the prevaricating producer, even if it meant getting tentacle froth on his hands. “We’ll make it look good,” he said with more confidence than he really felt. But with Amy’s help, he knew they could make it work. “You’ll get your ratings while we get the second gem.”
“You’re the one with the computations,” Rickster said, his bubbly voice rising toward a whine. “I’m just behind the scenes.”
“Then tell me what’s back there,” Luc urged.
“I really don’t know,” Rickster said. “My last team…they, uh, didn’t do so hot.”
Clenching his jaw to stop himself from asking what had happened to that hapless team, Luc said through gritted teeth, “We’ll get the gems. You’ll get your footage. I’ll contact you later.”
“Luc baby—”
He disconnected, livid, and slammed himself back in his seat.
“Did that seem…weird to you?” Amy stroked her hand along his shoulder as she slipped into the copilot seat beside his station.
If it had been anyone else, he might’ve flinched in surprise when he’d been so focused on his calculations or the cagey Ajellomene, but he’d caught her fresh scent when she’d lingered in the doorway, watching his exchange. He’d always know where she was, her unique fragrance forever imprinted on his senses.
He swiveled to face her, his knees bumping hers gently. Ignoring her question, he studied her, admiring the vertical lift of her rumpled hair. The accountant in him itched to smooth it down tidily, but the drakling in him liked its waywardness. “Did you sleep well?”
She inclined her head, her dark eyes half lidded. “Apparently you didn’t.”
“Too much stimulation.” He smirked at her.
“Hmm.” She sipped at the goblet she’d carried with her, then held it out to him. When he lifted one eyebrow, she said, “Not coffee. Some morning beverage you’d programmed as a favorite.”
“Pixberry tea. Very soothing.”
“You look like you could use some soothing.”
He took a drink of the sweet-tart warmth. “You heard all of that?”
“As I said…weird. And not just because it was a gooey, talking starfish.”
“I have no trouble working with tentacled species—they tend to be as good at counting as I am—but something about Rickster makes me twitchy.” He handed the goblet back to her.
She spun the glass idly between her hands, her gaze unfocused. “He made it sound as if he doesn’t have any influence on the show, and yet he brought you in and me. Well, not me specifically, but an explorer.”
“And he had this ship waiting for me.” Luc frowned. “Although the Blissed is not the same as the other regulation race ships.”
Her lips quirked. “You mean they don’t all have disco pyramids?”
“I’m guessing not.” At the thought of the red sparks on her skin, he needed to touch her, so he spiked his fingers through her wild hair. “And they don’t have you. Unlucky them.”
She leaned her head into his palm. “Sure. Because I’ve been so useful to you.”
When she’d first appeared and he realized she wasn’t what she was supposed to be, he’d thought his chances of winning had been annihilated. He knew better now. “More useful than Rickster,” he pointed out. “Why would he arrange for us to meet Idrin and get the passage token but then not share the next challenge?”
“And he acted as if he’s never seen the gemstones, but I thought an assistant producer would be involved.” She shook her head. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. We know what we have to do.” She drank the last of the tea, and he wondered if she realized as she’d spun the goblet that she’d put her mouth where he’d put his.
“I do know what I have to do,” he murmured. He leaned forward to kiss her, and when she opened her mouth to him, he licked the flavor of pixberry from her lips. Mostly sweet, just enough tart. “Definitely one of my morning favorites.”
When he lifted his head, they were both breathing heavy, and he had to shift sideways in his seat to ease the tightness in his groin.
She gazed up at him, blinking a little dazedly. “I wondered…since you left…”
“Didn’t leave,” he corrected. “I was right here.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Cuz you had to stay. Unless you wanted to get spaced.”
“Teammates.” He lifted his clenched fist.
After a moment, she bumped his knuckles with hers. “Go, Team Prism.”
He couldn’t help but notice she avoided the word mates. Not that it meant the same thing to an Earther as to a drakling. This was why Octiron liked to throw mismatched teams together—to watch the
sparks fly.
Except the producers hadn’t counted on how much draklings adored sparks.
Inexorably, he tugged her from her seat into his lap, but when she made a soft noise—protest or pleasure, he wasn’t sure—he spun them to face the screen. “Our next step,” he said, to forestall any possible objections. “I have the cadences and trajectories, but they aren’t aligning the way I thought they should.”
Nestling into his side, she swiped a finger over the interactive screen, scrolling through his numbers. “Bad at math, remember?”
“I thought if I explained it to you, maybe I’d see my error.” Surreptitiously inhaling the scent of her—warm from her sleep and the tea—made him wonder what other errors he’d made, like focusing on his work to the detriment of the kind of happiness his brothers were finding, thinking he’d never have his own chance and resigned to being alone.
“Take me through it then.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “Just don’t expect anything from me.”
He expected nothing. But he wanted… Oh, he wanted everything.
Focusing on the screen, he showed her how he’d translated the beats of the poem to the map of the Paragon Galaxy after he’d realized—with the help of those after-work beverages—that there was a correlation.
She gave a low whistle. “In three dimensions? Impressive. And I see how you diagrammed the stanzas over the starfields. But how did you figure out to start with Paragon? The map you made could’ve been laid over any galaxy, and the universe is endless.” She shook her head, eyes wide with amazement.
He cleared his throat and recited:
“And now the stones slumber, a thousand times a thousand years unseen,
Awaiting the quintessence of two with bold passion between them
Who follow the incarnate love of the blacksmith and the Firestorm Queen.”
He summoned up the poem. “Here is the text, displayed in Old Runic drakling, our language as it was written at the time.” The strokes looked raw and primitive on the modern screen, more carved than written. “See these words? Quintessence. Incarnate.”