When I resurface, I sit up and wipe the streaming water from my eyes, pushing my wet hair back from my face. The moment I open my eyes, I scream.
The man I loathe more than any other—Straik—is leaning over the tub, an absolutely crazy look on his face. He must have come in while I was under the water and I was too distracted to notice it. He looks like hell, too. His long, silky hair is hacked to bits, sticking up in short tufts all over and hanging over his brow. As I stare at him, his nostrils flare and he gives me a furious look.
"You're trespassing, human," he says in a low, dangerous voice.
I lift my chin, determined not to show fear.
7
STRAIK
Of all the things I expected to see in my quarters, a wet, naked human female wasn't one of them.
I knew that someone was using my tub, thanks to the computer. I thought perhaps it was one of my crew, playing a petty prank or even someone performing maintenance on it. Something slightly unexpected but not out of the ordinary. When I stepped into my quarters, though, it was just in time to watch a dark-haired human female duck her head under the water. She resurfaced a moment later and sat up, and I stared at a pair of full, wet breasts on display.
I recognize her, too. She was one of the females on the Buoyant Star that confronted us. One of the females that was woken up for the crew to “play” with. Most humans look alike as far as I'm concerned, but I do remember this one for her long, dark hair and her sullen expression.
And her breasts, which are on full display and gleaming with water.
My cock tightens and I'm hit with a surge of lust that's immediately followed by guilt. I can't lust after a naked human, or else I'm no better than the slavers. It's utterly wrong. I clench my jaw as the shame barrels through me, and storm toward her.
She wipes water from her eyes and then her mouth drops as she finally notices my arrival.
"You're trespassing, human" I growl.
I expect her to cringe. To cower. Instead, she sits up straighter and puts her arms on the edges of the tub. She tilts her head back, practically shoving those obscenely large human tits in my face and gives me a defiant look. "If you didn't want me on your ship, maybe you shouldn't have abandoned mine."
I bite back a snarl of pure fury. How dare she make me sound like the enemy? She's the one on my ship. She's the one in my quarters. She's the problem I've been sensing for the last few days, I realize. Where has she been hiding? How has she gone undetected for so long?
Or…has she? Is my crew deliberately hiding her under my nose? The thought fills me with rage and betrayal. Is there no one I can trust?
I point at her. "Get out of my tub. Right now. I have questions, and you're going to give me answers."
With an insolent stare, she rises to her feet, and water sluices off her body. I am not going to look at her long, strangely pale legs. I am not going to look at the tuft of dark hair between her thighs. I am not going to look at the swell of her hips, or the way her breasts jiggle when she moves. I am not going to look at the way her skin gleams with water.
I am not.
I am not.
She lifts her chin and gives me another angry glare. "Why would I tell you anything? You're just a bully and a liar. What, are you going to drag me into your bed and rape the answers out of me?"
I sputter in horror, aghast. "What? No!"
The female—I don't remember her name, just her scowl—climbs slowly out of the tub. Nostrils flaring, shoulders heaving with frustration, I clench my fists and force myself to look her in the eye. Only the eye. The rest of it feels like a dare. As if she's expecting me to ogle her and prove to her that I'm a piece of keffing trash like the slavers that stole her.
And I'm not. I'm just…not.
She straightens, hovering near the edge of the tub as if she's going to climb back in. Her muscles tense, and I wonder if it's a fake-out. If she's not going to get back into the tub at all but run instead for the door…and back to wherever her hiding place is.
I won't let that happen.
I tense, too, squaring my shoulders. If she runs, I'm going to catch her. If she even tries—
She bolts, leaning toward the tub, and then touches the rim. When I lunge toward her, she feints, heading in the opposite direction. I launch myself at her, tackling her to the ground, and then the female is under me in a mess of squirming, wet limbs. She bellows in my ear, not soft and dainty like I expected, but like wounded meat-stock. Her howl rings in my ears, and then she claws at me with a hand, her legs flailing under me.