Rescuing Halin: Hissa Warrior, Book 1

by RK Munin

  He smiles at the thought. If she thinks the armor and plasma rifles are nice, he can't wait until she sees some of the Hissa battleships.

  But none of that will happen if he can't keep his instincts from ruining everything before it's even begun. His intuition and bargaining skills are legendary among his people. He should be able to coax this female into loving him, especially if she’s already physically attracted to him. If he could help a team of Hissa negotiate a visit to the Bicoma, convincing Mian to enter into a Family Pact with him should be possible.

  He's thinking about seduction when she appears in the doorway of the shop with nothing in her hands. He watches her intensely, waiting to see what she'll do, but instead of glowering at him she gives him a small smile and gestures him over.

  “I just spent a ton of your credits,” she tells him smugly. “Moriv tried to give me a good deal, but I demanded to be charged full price plus a hefty percentage for extra profit.”

  Halin nods quickly. “Of course. It's the least I can do to make amends.”

  “And we are buying two plasma rifles and extra of everything,” she continues, but he doesn't even blink an eye. The amount she spent is trivial compared to the budget he has access to.

  “I can purchase all those things,” he agrees.

  “You're going to come in and apologize to Moriv in a very quiet non-threatening way. Then you're going try on some armor and pick out what you want.”

  He stands tall under her scrutiny. “I'll be polite,” he assures her.

  She turns and leads him in. The Fielden stands at the far end of the shop. He's stopped shaking but looks anxious, and it's obvious he doesn't want Halin to come too close. Knowing he needs to make amends he locks his hands behind his back and drops his gaze to the floor, thinking he read somewhere that direct eye contact can make Fielden uncomfortable.

  “Trader Moriv,” he begins hoping it's an appropriate term of respect for a Fielden. “I humbly beg your forgiveness. I acted hastily and out of fear for my m—” he just manages to keep from saying ‘my mate.’ That was close. He starts again. “Out of fear for the female Mian. I know now I acted erroneously, and you’d never hurt her, but I'm sure you would feel just as protective if an unknown male grasped a female near you.”

  A flurry of sound comes from the Fielden's dome, and the box takes time to start the translation. Halin waits patiently. “Warrior Halin, I know of the Hissa's plight and understand you might feel protective of females because of it. I would never hurt Mian. She's protected my family when we were most vulnerable. I owe her a debt I'll never be able to repay. She requested I forgive you, and I will do so, but understand, you are not welcome in my shop without her present.”

  Considering Mian was the reason for his actions, he thinks the Fielden's request is a foolish one but doesn't say that out loud. “I readily agree to your terms and thank you for your forgiveness.” Halin looks over to Mian, who's smiling.

  “Well done,” she nods and then points to a section of the shop. “Go find a suit you like. I've already picked out mine.” That last sentence is delivered with a little gleeful smile. She’s obviously excited about the purchase of new armor.

  Could this female be any more perfect?

  “Certainly, but may I ask a question?” He turns his attention back to the Fielden who remains still and stiff next to a large display of small edged weapons. “What did you mean when you said Mian protected you and your family?”

  “We were coming back from our home world when we were attacked by raiders. She swooped in like an angry goddess and chased them away. She didn't leave us when they ran. She stayed with us all the way back here to Wint Station, even though that meant she lost her bounty. When I tried to pay her, she refused everything but some fuel. She won't let me give her the armor she wants. She won't let me give her weapons. Only lets me charge her for the cost of the weapons without profit added. I tried to get her to marry my son. I wished her to join my family so she would also have financial protection. But she refused.”

  Halin can't help the shocked expression that crosses his face. The Fielden are only vaguely humanoid. There is no way they could be compatible with a human or Hissa.

  “I can perceive your displeasure at the idea, but it would only be to make sure she had a family to care for her. Our kind believe in plural marriages. She would have married my son along with another Fielden female.”

  “You are my family,” Mian tells him quickly. “And poor Tooval wouldn't last the ceremony. He's so scared of me.”

  “He adores you, just like the rest of the family. He's just intimidated by you,” Moriv counters with a sound Halin thinks is a laugh. This must be an old joke between the two of them and for the first time Halin really does feel ashamed for attacking the kind Fielden who cares for Mian like a daughter.

  “Thank you for appeasing my curiosity. I’ll find the armor I wish to buy, and I would also like to buy any ammunition you might have for the guns on Fortune.” The dome of Moriv's head turns a slight yellow with interest.

  “I have almost all that she requires. How much of each kind would you like?”

  “At least two boxes of each,” he answers easily and hears Mian choke.

  “No,” she intercedes quickly. “Just one box of each. I can't fit much more on Fortune.” Her words remind Halin of the crowded corridors in the ship.

  “Very well, two boxes of each and store one box here and send one box to the ship. When she comes back for supplies you can have them ready for her.”

  Moriv’s dome turns a deeper yellow, almost orange, and his body shakes a little. Halin wonders if he's managed to scare the Fielden again without meaning to. Then the thin creature starts rushing about, checking boxes and tagging items.

  “Two of everything,” he says as he rushes into the back. “Two of everything!”

  “You just made him very happy.” Mian laughs and gives Halin a gentle push. “Now go pick out gear. We still need to get food supplies and clothes, so hurry up.”

  It doesn't take long for Halin to decide on pieces he wants and Mian arranges to have it all delivered to Fortune. The next stop is at a store that sells food and replicators. Mian buys a few boxes of ration packs using Halin's credit, but he's not happy and digs in his heels when she tries to leave.

  “I want to buy something that tastes good,” he demands. “Ration packs are barely edible.”

  “But they're nutritious and last forever. Look, I even got some of the chocolate flavored ones. Those almost taste good.”

  “We will add to the order,” he tells her and roams the shop. The shop owner eagerly following him, making note of all his requests, both of them ignoring Mian’s objections. He has no idea what chocolate is, but when he sees a few decorative boxes full of them, he has the owner add them in.

  “You can't get those,” Mian protests. “That stuff is real and expensive. It comes all the way from Earth system. It's the only place it's cultivated. Besides, you don't even know if you like the flavor.” She turns to the shop owner. “Take those last few items off. We don't need them.”

  “Don't listen to her. I'm paying so I get to say what's on the list and what isn't,” Halin retorts. He leans in close to Mian until his lips almost brush her ear. He deepens his voice and adds a slight purr. “I want to buy them for you. How am I to know you if I can't provide the things you find most pleasurable?”

  He can see her shiver with his words, clearly telling him that he’s having the effect he wants. He leaves her there, her eyes a little glazed, and finishes the food order, then tugs her out of the shop, ignoring her slight frown.

  “I don't know what game you're playing,” she mutters as she stomps behind him. “But I better like the ending.” Halin manages to keep from smirking at that comment and moves them quickly to the shop he saw earlier.

  He sighs with happiness as they walk into the clothing store. All kinds of fabrics, styles, and colors surround them and an eager clerk runs up to help. “I want to
buy a gold soliman silk shirt and pants for her. Also, chovic cotton in deep purple, if you have it. I want them all fashioned in the Hissa style,” he tells the clerk and notes the greedy look in the woman's eye.

  “That's expensive,” she warns.

  “I have plenty of credits,” he assures her. “And I want the same outfits in green, to match her eyes if you can.”

  “I thought we were here so you could get pants that aren't about to burst,” she points out. “Not to buy me clothes I'll never wear.”

  “Why wouldn't you wear them?” he asks, feeling a little hurt. He wants to cover her lovely pale skin in soft fabrics. He wants to see the silk move against her body and watch it pool around her feet as she disrobes.

  “I'm either in armor, insulation suits, or biosuits,” she points out. “Or old maintenance clothes when I have to do chores. There's no reason for me to wear fancy outfits.”

  He shakes his head quickly, “There is a reason now. It would please me to see you wearing them. To watch the fabrics move against your skin.” The fine hair on her arms is standing up on end. He’s not sure, but he thinks this is a good reaction from her. “If you don’t like them you can sell them later,” he promises.

  “Fine. Sure, right.” She makes a sound that might be part aggravation and part longing.

  He buys a dozen sets of clothes for her, all in soft exotic fabrics and made in traditional Hissa styles. He buys himself a few dark brown sets of clothing and catches her frowning at him as he emerges from the fitting room.

  “Why aren't you wearing bright blue, purple, scarlet, or gold?”

  “I'm male,” he explains simply.

  She hazards a guess. “So, males don't do bright colors?”

  “It's the females who are supposed to shine with lovely clothes, surrounded by bright colors,” he looks over to the drab shirt and trousers she's currently wearing. “Those colors do nothing to show your inner beauty. You should be wearing beautiful things to reflect your heart and soul to the world around you. You show great care to the most helpless. It's a noble trait showing you have a kind heart and a warrior’s soul. I would have your clothes reflect your worth.”

  He looks up to see her eyes are slowly blinking at him, her mouth parted. “That was very….” She pauses and licks her lips. “That’s very eloquent. Is that part of Hissa culture. The clothing thing?”

  He shrugs his shoulders. “I'm Hissa.”

  She laughs, “I deserved that answer. Well, I think we've done enough damage to your credit accounts. Let’s head back to the ship. We've got a lot of stuff to try and find room for.”

  Halin soon realizes she wasn't exaggerating. It takes them much longer than he likes to find places to store all the purchases on the already crowded gunship. The ammunition is by far the most difficult to stow. They end up stacking some of it in a way to act like stairs so it can be near the gun it feeds but they can still go over it to get down the corridor.

  When he takes the boxes of clothes to her room, he knows he's made the right decision as many of the colors he chose match the ones she used to decorate her personal space. She might be human, but she uses colors and textures like a Hissa female.

  He drops the clothing boxes on the bed and hurries out to find her stowing the last of the food purchases. She turns to him with a big smile.

  “We’re fueled. And we’re stocked with provisions and ammunition,” she reports gleefully. “I'm ready to undock and set course for Bicoma.”

  Halin nods with a small frown, thinking about Bicoma and the plight of his people. She misunderstands his expression and places a reassuring hand on his arm.

  “Don't worry. Unless the raiders form some kind of armada there's no way they’re stopping Fortune. I can get you to Bicoma easy.” She gives him a reassuring squeeze, but then her smile turns wry. “Of course, the whole surviving in Bicoma space is your job.”

  He forces himself to smile at her. “Have faith, small human.” He deliberately towers over her, knowing it will make her laugh. This woman isn't afraid of anything and finds challenges nothing but stimulating. There’s not a chance he can intimidate her, only amuse her. “I will keep us safe in the Bicoma system.”

  “Why don't you take those to my cabin, and I'll meet you there once I get Fortune underway,” she orders and pushes a few boxes of food items into his hands.

  “You're going to join me in the cabin?” he asks carefully. She licks her lips. He’s captivated by that small motion. Her plump lower lip glistens a little and he wants to draw it into his mouth and give her a nip. With effort he forces his gaze back up to her eyes.

  “Yup, I’ll be joining you. As soon as we are under way I'm hoping we can do some more 'getting to know' each other,” she confesses.

  He meant to take everything slow. He meant to tease her until she’s desperate. Then he planned to take his time and impress her with his bedroom skills. But teasing her means he’s tormenting himself also, and there’s no part of him that can wait any longer.

  New tactic— get them naked and touching.

  “Go on,” he almost shouts, shooing Mian towards the cockpit. “Hurry and set our course. I'll be waiting.”

  She laughs and saunters off.

  CHAPTER 6

  Mian can't believe how nervous she is when she walks into her own cabin. Halin’s there, reading something on a data pad he purchased at a kiosk in Wint. He looks up as she walks in, then gives her a smile that makes her heart beat a little faster. She left her new armor charging in the control room and is just wearing the tight one-piece insulation garment she always wears under the cold armor.

  She suddenly feels very unattractive. She never really thought about her looks before. But with Halin staring up at her, all she can think about is all her most unflattering aspects. Her messy hair, the unappealing insulation garment, the fact that she hasn't bathed in several cycles.

  “I'm going to use the cleansing unit,” she squeaks out, surprised at the unusually high pitch of her voice. She can feel her face flushing and almost sprints through the cleansing unit door, slamming it shut behind her with more force than was necessary.

  And now he thinks you're an idiot, she berates herself silently. And he's probably not wrong.

  She strips out of the insulation suit and starts up the cleaning unit, glad she splurged for one that uses water instead of subsonics. The hot water hits her and she gives a little sigh, enjoying the feel of it for a moment before she starts working soap into her short blond hair.

  She's just ready to start washing out the soap when Halin is suddenly there, crowding her back as he shoves his big body into the stall with her. With a gasp she finds herself pressed between him and the wall.

  She grunts as she wiggles around, eventually able to get her body turned around so she can face him. “What are you doing?”

  “Furthering our knowing,” he explains and grabs a small bottle of soap and examines the bottle. “What part of you does this cleanse?”

  “It's for everything,” she replies without thinking, too engrossed at staring at him to wonder at the odd question.

  “That won't do,” he grunts. “I wish I'd known. We could have picked up more products at Wint.” he dumps an excessive amount in his hands. “My sisters were very particular about their cleansing products. I remember the bathing area being full of bottles and tubs of sweet-smelling things. Some were just for their head. Some for their hands. I’m sure humans have different cleansing needs for different parts of the body.”

  “Hey, not so much! I'm on a budget.” She snatches the bottle away from him and turns to place it on a high shelf. As she reaches up, he puts his hands on her. Large hands, slippery with soap. He grips her at the waist, then runs his hands up until they're cupping her breasts. She can't help the small moan that escapes her lips.

  “You have lovely soft skin,” he murmurs in her ear, and a small shiver goes down her spine. She tries to turn around, but he pushes her against the wall, pinning her in place. �
�No, don't touch me,” he orders. “I'm worried I'll forget myself if you touch me. Put your hands against the wall.”

  Exited by the game she slaps her palms on the cold metal, even with her head.

  “Higher,” he whispers. “Stretch them up higher.” she complies and feels the hard length of him all along the back of her body. His cock is a hard ridge line trapped against her lower back, and she wonders how they’ll manage in such a small shower with their height difference.

  His soapy hands start massaging her breasts and she groans with pleasure at the feel. It's been a long time since she's been touched, and none of her experiences so far have made her this aroused this quickly. The feel of him pressed against her is almost overwhelming.

  He plucks her nipples and her head falls forward until she's resting her forehead against the wall. Soap from her hair starts streaming down her face, and she closes her eyes to keep it from stinging . His hands slide lower until he's petting the thatch of hair at the apex of her legs.

  “Give me permission.” He makes it sound more like an order then a request.

  “Keep going, or I'll break your legs,” she growls and he barks out a laugh.

  “Part your legs for me,” he demands. Eagerly she edges her feet apart and gasps when he slides those big blunt fingers between her legs. One hand is still plucking at her nipple while the other parts the lips of her labia and lazily explores her sex. She growls and tries to move against him to put his fingers where she desperately wants them.

  “Be still,” he commands and starts to withdraw his hand. She freezes and hears a strange sound. With surprise she realizes it's her making the sound. She’s whimpering.

  His hand returns to its slow movements, and she wants to scream when his fingers draw circles around her clit. He suddenly pulls both hands away and grabs her around the waist, pushing her under the water before she has time to protest.

  “By the moons, female,” he grinds out. “Why didn’t you tell me you had soap on your face. No, don't open your eyes. Let me clean you off.” She stands still and silent for his ministrations. He works his fingers in her hair, massaging the water in and the soap out. He runs gentle palms down her face until she can't smell or feel any soap on her skin. She opens her eyes to find him examining her head with care, his face frowning in concentration. When he notices her looking at him, he grins, showing off his fangs. The sight of those fangs sends fissures of desire through her belly.