Page 9 of Pirate's Gold

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He frowned down at Terri. “Name the ship? It does not need a name. It is a serial number. That is adequate identification for a starship.”

Terri rolled her eyes at him. “That’s boring, and I can never remember that random spew of numbers. Don’t worry. Leave it to me. I’ll think of something good.”

She lay there beside him, tapping her fingertip to her chin as she began listing absurd names, each one more terrible than the last.

“How can you not likeThe Screaming Lady?” she protested after the tenth suggestion, her fingers tracing the scales on his chest. “We both know that when we don’t have company, there’s a lot of screaming that goes on in here. It would be a very good name.”

Veral did not miss the sexual reference and curled his fingers around her questing hand. “No. As much truth as your observation contains, the name is undignified.”

“So you want a dignified name, then?”

“I do.”

“Okay. I’ll give it some thought,” she said with a long-suffering sigh that made his lips quirk.

“Now that is settled, about the airlock—”

“No!” Terri laughed as she smacked him ineffectively with a pillow.

Snarling, Veral curled over his mate, pressing her small body into the bedding. His muscles trembled, eager to attempt to convince her otherwise. As his civix slid into her hot clutch, he groaned. He rocked into her with abandon, her soft sighs and moans mixing with his growls until they both shouted their completion again and again.

Though her answer did not change, they both enjoyed his attempts to alter them. He looked forward to trying to convince her many more times over the next eighteen standard hours.

4

Made of a thick, durable material used by Argurma when they had to move across vast deserts on their homeworld, the shafna was always uncomfortable. Although Veral hadn’t been home in years, the first time he had Terri wear it, he had been pleased that he kept the enormous hooded overcoat. She could have done without it, but since it allowed her to leave their room despite the company on board, she couldn’t hate it too much. Especially not with the bright gems that their passengers had been carrying, samples of a larger collection being gifted to the Grez’na prince for his betrothal—whatever the hell that was. The word was used in some of the older books from Earth, but she didn’t know what it meant. All the same, having to wear it when she wanted to leave their quarters was a good enough deterrent to keep her away from the strangers.

Until now.

Three days in their cabin and Terri felt like she was on the verge of going mad staring at the same four walls. During the day, Krono kept her company, curled up at the foot of the bed, only to be released to prowl the corridors so that Veral could slide into bed next to her at night. At first, she had worried that one of the Blaithari would be hurt by the protective dorashnal. When she voiced her concerns to Veral, he had smirked without sympathy but assured her that their guests knew not to leave their quarters during the night cycle. He even set an alarm that went out over the ship every night at the start of the cycle so that everyone knew to return to their cabins.

Not that Krono was entirely cooperative about the matter, as accustomed as he was to being with them at all times. He was eager to scout through the ship when Veral first returned to the room, but they were both woken at ungodly hours as the animal attempted to break back into the room, not once but multiple times. The sounds were both monstrous and pitiful, but after a while, when Veral made it clear he wasn’t letting the dorashnal in, Krono trailed off to find something else to occupy himself with until morning.

Though she felt bad for Krono, Terri appreciated that Veral didn’t just hover on the flight deck the entire time as she half-expected him to do. It was a huge concession when she knew that the presence of the strangers on the ship drove his protective instincts wild.

She understood, but enough was enough. She couldn’t spend another moment trapped in the room all day. She needed to get out, and besides—she’d been craving! There hadn’t been any cravings in the initial months of her pregnancy, but she had been struck by such an intense need forsomethingthat, when it didn’t go away, she had to search it out.

She wassodamned hungry!

Terri knew he wouldn’t approve of her slipping out during midday, but she was still following his rules. She tugged the hood on and smiled down at Krono, who stared up at her, his mouth gaping in an expectant dorashnal grin, his vibrissae relaxed against his neck as he watched her for any cues.

“Shall we go play with the replicator, Krono?” she asked her companion.

His mouth gaped wider, and he whined with excitement. He was fully on board.

Humming under her breath, Terri headed for the galley. Slipping inside, she stilled as she watched the two pink Blaithari standing with their heads bent in close, whispering as they filled their trays and a third. Their nostrils suddenly flared and both heads came up and turned toward her, gold eyes gleaming.

Terri felt a jump in her belly at the intense way they were staring at her. She would have run right back out of the room if she hadn’t reminded herself that she was wearing robes. Of course they would be curious. Veral had informed her that he circulated a story among them that she was horribly scarred from a cargo fire so that they wouldn’t be suspicious if they happened to see her. Still, it did little to settle her nerves as she gave them a polite nod to acknowledge their presence before scampering by them.

Both males immediately backed away, their eyes darting down to Krono, who stared at them, his ears turned alertly in their direction.

Watching them out of the corner of her eye, she frowned at how massive the aliens were. From Veral’s description, she was expecting small, slender males, not ones who were—despite being close to the height of an average human male—packed solid with muscle. Granted, they likely looked small and unthreatening to a male Veral’s size.

They were clothed in beautiful swathes of fabric, but as they slipped by her, she couldn’t hold back the shiver of dread that ran through her. They looked at her just a little too carefully, a little too long for her comfort.

She turned her gaze back down to Krono to find him still staring at the empty doorway, his vibrissae whipping around him. His head angled up to stare back at her, and she let out a small sigh. Dropping her hand to the top of his head, she scratched him behind the ears and smiled.

“Just nerves, that’s all,” she whispered. “Now let’s get something to eat.”


Tags: S.J. Sanders Argurma Salvager Science Fiction