by Erin Tate
She pasted a smile on her face, one that was cordial, but not welcoming. She was to start her shift with Yare and didn’t have a lot of time to chat. Then again, this was the first male who’d even approached her. Should she rush him off so quickly?
Bright light she’d love to have a conversation with someone other than Resane or Yare.
Her new reality included Doshan males. If she wanted a mate, a family, it required one of the large men with more muscles than sense. Okay, that wasn’t fair. So far, Kede was the only man she’d encountered who had more muscles than sense.
And damn, he had a lot of muscles. Yum.
The man before her squirmed and she realized she’d been staring without saying a single word.
“Oh, sorry.” She fought the blush warming her cheeks. “Is this your tray?” She turned to place it on the table once again. “I didn’t see anyone—”
“No, Mistress. I…” He frowned and stared at what she held. “You should not be doing this, Mistress. It is not a task for females.” His annoyance vanishing, he jerked his head in a quick nod as if he’d decided something. “You do not have a House—”
“I don’t need a house, I have my quarters.” She furrowed her brow. Houses on spaceships? That seemed like a waste of room. Even if they converted the attics to storage or extra rooms…
“You do not talk of your quarters, Mistress. It invites trouble from males.” He tsk’ed at her as if it he were chastising a young one. “I was worried that you do not have a House and I could not petition for your company. Then I thought on the ancient texts and believe that I can perform tasks to earn your favor and then you can decide for yourself if you shall grant me your time. That is not against the laws.” He stood taller, pulling his shoulders back and pressing his fist to his heart in salute. “I am stating my intentions.”
“I…” Joyce tilted her head to the side in confusion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Joyce?” Yare’s voice rose above the surrounding murmurs. “Do you need assistance?”
“I have done nothing wrong.” The man before her faced off against the frowning Yare.
“I did not ask you, I asked Joyce,” Yare snapped, bristling at the stranger’s tone.
Dear light, she was being assaulted by testosterone. Which was the last thing she needed in the middle of the dining hall. They’d already played this game and no one better whip out massive knives.
“She is Mistress Enner, Yare Lor-en.”
“I know her name. She has given me permission to address her as such.” Yare seemed to grow before her eyes, standing taller, welcoming eyes hardening as he stared at the stranger. “Joyce?”
“Uh… I don’t…” She focused on the stranger. “I’m sorry, what’s your name?”
The man snapped to attention, standing tall while pressing his fist over his heart in salute once again. “Second Engineer Dexal of the House Ozar.”
“Nice to meet you, Dexal.” She smiled. Even though she knew it was filled with confusion, he seemed to beam with happiness. Joyce turned to Yare. “Dexal was assisting me with this tray and, uh, stating his intentions.”
“Intentions?” Yare’s voice was soft and scary as a motherfucker. His gaze was like stone, but she sensed the barely suppressed violence within him. Oh, she hoped Yare didn’t have a set of those Ginsu knives. “You dare?”
Dexal bristled at Yare’s censure but did not back down beneath her friend’s anger. “She does not have a House and the ancient texts allow—”
“Ancient texts? That is the basis for your actions? You believe—”
“She is without a House. Females without a House, and who have not requested a House’s protection, can be approached by males directly. It is the law.”
There was definitely a lot missing from her general Doshan box-o-knowledge. Such as, what the hell did a house have to do with dating? Because, really, that’s what it boiled down to. At least she thought so.
“Commander Tria has declared—”
Oh, she should have been paying better attention. Joyce wiggled her way between the snarling males and pushed them apart. “Okay, back this up. Kede said what?” Dexal frowned while Yare gritted his teeth. Neither male said a word. “I got all day.”
Joyce even tapped her foot for good measure.
Yare was the first to break and she knew that stemmed from their friendship and his lingering guilt. Ever since her accident he was big into sharing. Almost to the point of over sharing. “Commander Tria ordered all males retain their distance until your House status and planetary affiliation can be officially recognized. You are not eligible for claiming. It is not the law, but he is able to encourage his warriors to behave in a way he deems appropriate, as we have never had a Doshan female on the ship before. The law is hazy on this type of situation.”
“Uh-huh. So, pretending I’m not a transitional citizen of Dosha and actually a natural born citizen, is there anything that states I cannot be approached? I mean,” she paused and forced herself to calm. How dare he make another decision about her life? “Assuming all things equal, if I were a female on Dosha with no House, what could happen?”
Yare pinched his lips together and Dexal spoke. “A female without a House may request House status from any council member who already has a harae. If she chooses not to secure House status, she may operate as her own Holder of House, adhering to the laws of the council.”
“It is not done,” Yare interjected and she found herself watching a verbal tennis match.
“That does not mean it is against the law.”
“A female cannot operate her own House. She must have the protection of a male.”
Oh, Yare just lost some friend points.
“Females create life. Do you not think they can live it without interference?”
And Dexal just got Yare’s friend points.
“And your intentions would not be considered interference?”
Well, score one for Yare. He had a point.
“It would still be her choice.” Dexal clenched his jaw. “She has not chosen a House and she has not accepted a Planetary Collective brand.”
“Can we have one person at a time speaking, please?” She burst into the staring contest. “Explain everything in very small words with one or two syllables each.”
A low cough alerted her to the gathering crowd and she groaned.
“Are you injured, Mistress?” Dexal was the first to respond, but a good dozen sets of eyes focused on her, seeming to hold their breath and wait for her answer. Impending violence vibrated the air and she knew groaning was a very bad thing.
“No, I’m…” Surrounded by horny aliens, “fine. Can one of you answer the House-no House issue and whether I can date or not?” She focused on Dexal. “That’s what you wanted, right? You want to date?”
“Date.” His mouth echoed the movement of her lips. “Date?”
“Yes. Date. Two people spend time together to see if they are well matched. Eventually it leads to marriage. Um, claiming a harae.” She wasn’t sure which words came out as Doshan and which emerged as Terran, but he seemed to get the idea.
“Yes. That is my wish, Mistress. To date.” Dexal smiled widely, pure happiness filling his gaze and she couldn’t suppress the one that jumped to her own lips.
“Okay.” She nodded. “I have to get this House stuff straight in my head, but I will contact you once I have sorted everything out.”
The large crowd eased closer, men nudging others aside to get nearer, and Joyce imagined them shoving forward until she was lost beneath a sea of alien combat boots.
“Mistress Enner, I am…”
“I am of the House…”
“First Engineer, Mistress…”
Oh, suddenly she was the hottest girl on the ship—the only girl on the ship—and they all wanted to date. That was so not happening.
“Look, lemme figure things out, okay? You heard me tell Dexal that, right?” One blue-green-eyed guy elb
owed a purple-yellow-eyed guy who knocked him into a teal-orange guy and then all the colors of the rainbow were not playing well with others.
Someone shoved Dexal into her and then she slumped against Yare which had him bellowing and…
Joyce saw her life, lives, flash before her eyes. There was no love or marriage or a horse and carriage. There was a lot of pencil pushing, getting yelled at and deeply tanned skin, though.
The fight edged closer, fists flying, yells of words she was pretty sure she wasn’t supposed to know filled the air and the crunch of metal reached her ears more than once.
Another surge, another stumble, and then Joyce took to the tables. She crawled atop the one at her back, the big slabs of bolted down, unmoving metal, an immovable safe haven from imminent ouchies.
More than one set of hands reached for her, but she dodged the touches, choosing instead to race away. She was never talking to, nor coming into contact with, another Doshan for as long as she lived.
Joyce jumped from the table and of course landed funny because God, in whatever form he took, hated her a little bit. She limped and hobbled toward the dining hall’s exit. The battle continued behind her, but she kept her mind trained on fleeing.
Crewmembers ceased to matter, the massive males jogging past her and toward the dining hall didn’t bother her a bit. Nope, not when she was intent on getting to medical. Resane could lock her in, patch her up, and hide her if necessary. She knew that not even Kede could get past Resane’s codes, the medico’s power absolute inside his domain.
“Joyce!” a male called, but she didn’t recognize him. For all she knew, he was an escaped dining hall horny boy.
Nope. Not happening. She hobbled farther, heading toward the lift doors that stood a mere twenty feet away. The whole time her plan swam through her mind.
Call the lift. In the lift. Get to med deck. Fall into medical. Fin.
She could do this. The rapid, pounding thump of her pursuer neared and she slammed her hand on the call pad, nearly sobbing when the doors immediately parted. She practically fell into the lift, collapsing to her knees and crawling the last couple of feet. Her dash was slowed by a hand on the back of her leg, palm sliding down her thigh and tightening on her calf. She glanced back to meet a man’s black and red-eyed gaze. A bolt of fear pummeled her, attacking her spine while dumping adrenaline into her blood. Everything inside her, both Terran and Doshan, screamed at her to Get The Fuck Out.
There was something wrong about those colors, something that struck a long forgotten visceral part of her Doshan body. Go, go, go.
Whispering an apology to God and the bright light on the off chance they were two different deities, she brought her good leg up and then slammed it down on the man’s grip. It jarred her aching ankle, but screw it. This male had nothing but pain in mind for her. There was no doubt he wanted to harm her.
Well, she’d give her own bit of agony. Another kick was followed by another, and still he wouldn’t relent.
Dammit.
So far she’d gone after just his hands, but… “Dude, I so don’t wanna break that pretty face.”
He smiled. One that told her she really, really didn’t want him catching her.
“Screw it.” She hauled her leg back again and went right at the male’s features.
Joyce kicked out with her left leg while tugging her right, and her foot connected with a squicky crunch of bone and spontaneous flow of blood. He grinned through the ribbons of red, exposing straight white teeth.
Panic overrode good sense, her body screaming at her that flight was good any fucking time now and Joyce should get her fat ass off the mother fucking elevator floor all-fucking-ready.
Damn, her fight or flight response was a cursing bitch.
She went after him again, this time nailing him in those shining white teeth. Between that strike and the racing approach of other males, Joyce’s flight instincts got her free, got her on the damned elevator and got the doors closed.
The moment they slid shut, she slumped against the wall. Air heaved in and out of her lungs, body fighting for oxygen while she tried to ignore the pain pumping through her. Oh shit, that had not been an enjoyable experience.
The elevator—screw calling it a lift just because Kede said so—dinged at her, a gentle request for a destination.
“How about up Kede’s ass?” she grumbled. It beeped at her again. “Medical. Override, Kiss My Ass.”
That’d been fun to program. Resane trying to give her access to ship’s functions while she griped about Kede. That equaled Joyce’s commands being peppered with some of her favorite Terran curses.
The elevator whooshed into action, the change hardly discernable as she rose through the ship. Her only clue at movement was due to a hint of pain in her ankle that came with the motion.
“Fuck,” she murmured and the elevator dinged at her in question.
She needed new curses.
“Continue.” A beep sounded in confirmation and it didn’t take much longer for her to finally arrive at her destination.
The elevator slid to a stop, the change in direction subtle, and then the gray—what the hell was up with the gray?—doors parted.
More gray. She needed to introduce these guys to color. Maybe some bright sunny yellows to bring life to the ship.
“Joyce?” Resane came toward her, rounding one of the med units and then panic filled his gaze. He was the chief medico, skilled in all manner of bodily repair both Doshan and alien, yet still he paled.
“I think it’s worse than it looks.” Joyce glanced down her body, noting the wrinkles and tears, the splotches of God knew what, and the blood that stained the bottom of her pants. She plucked at the blood soaked hem, tugging in an effort to raise the fabric. “You see, what happened was…”
* * *
Kede bypassed the lifts and jogged straight toward the nearest engineering access panel. He ripped the grate from its hinges, disregarding the warning tones from the ship’s systems. Operational engineering would be notified of the breach but by the time they responded, he’d be at his destination.
The sounds of battle—grunts, yells, and shouts—reached him as he crawled past the fighting. The altercation quickly spread from the dining hall and beyond, spilling into the corridors.
As ship’s commander, he should have waded into the mass of violent bodies and brought order to the commotion.
As a male worried for his harae and unknowing of her condition, he felt the males could kill each other. He had no fucks to give.
“Catch her before she gets away!” The bellow rang his ears, the man’s voice shaking the passageway.
Bastards would not touch her.
“Plant it, dammit!”
Plant it?
Plant what?
Who was that?
Another loud yell, this one drowned out by the rising battle, had him moving. Security could handle the mess.
Kede continued his path until he hit the junction beside the lift. He tore at the hatch, wrenching it open, and then began his ascent. Hand over hand, he climbed the small ladder, rising higher with each shift of muscle. The fit was tight, meant for a single Doshan male to traverse. Smaller Doshans at that. The path was not built for a battle-ready warrior, but he did not let the tight confines deter him.
He had to get to his harae. He refused to let a tunnel thwart him.
Level after level disappeared and it was not long before he neared medical. Joyce’s voice was timid, but not laced with pain. That was all that saved the fighting males. Had they hurt her…
“You see, what happened was…” Joyce sounded timid and unsure. That too was unacceptable. If Resane’s demeanor caused such a response…
“You’re covered in blood!” If the words weren’t enough to alarm him, Resane’s tone had him tearing through the grate.
With a roar, he shoved at the panel, sending the metal scraping over medical’s flooring, leaving deep gouges in the biopadding. The couple near the
door jerked, Resane bolted forward, putting himself between Kede and Joyce.
The male would receive a medal for his bravery after Kede killed him for getting between him and Joyce.
And Joyce… scrambled away from him, hands and legs hunting for purchase on the soft ground. She was fearful. His Joyce. The female who screamed of probing and deadly chocolate, fought to get away.
She was not the strong, fierce female he recalled.
Unacceptable.
Kede climbed through the portal with a snarl, his inner-rage bubbling to the surface. It nearly overflowed when he finally paused to look at Joyce, to see the slashes in her clothing and the… the blood soaking the fabric.
The roar would not be contained. It bubbled in his chest, his ancestors seeming to come to life inside him. He thundered with rage filling his veins. The weight of the elders of his House pummeled him, sending his anger soaring.
They dared.
They. Dared.
“I will gut them where they stand,” he rasped, his lips hardly able to form words. “Give me the names.”
He could not tear his gaze from the blood-soaked fabric, from the wounds it must shield from his eyes.
He did not think he could take seeing the injuries.
He did not think he could hide from them.
“Kede! What—”
He ignored Resane and kept his gaze trained on his harae. “Tell me their names, Joyce and they will be no more.”
He had no blade, but his hands would suffice.
“What?” Joyce shook her head and ceased fleeing from him. “I’m fine, Kede.”
He stared at the blood, at the sheer volume of the red fluid. “No, you cannot be. I know you are trying to be strong my—Joyce—but I will have the head of the male who injured you. Speak it to me and it will be done.”
It would help him be rid of his fury.
Her gaze traveled from him to the streaks of blood she’d left on the biopad, and then back to him. “This isn’t from me, Kede. I promise. I kicked the hell out of one of your warriors. That’s all. I swear.”
Kede was sure her words were intended to calm him.
They did not.
“It’s not my blood, Kede.” Her words were soft, pleading with him, and he realized why.