“Stripping’s not necessary,” she tells me in a surprisingly crisp voice. “I can see everything I need to see right now.” And she reaches forward and puts her small, human hand on my still-hard cock. “You’re showing everything already.”
I bark with laughter, shocked—and aroused—by her bold touch. “I stand corrected.”
“Hold still,” the guard says to me, and then a shock-bracelet goes around my wrist. I grit my teeth, trying to hide just how much I hate the damn thing. He hands her the small control to it and beams. “Pleasure doing business with you, human.”
“Miss Evans,” she corrects him again, then puts that too-sweet smile on her face again. “Thank you ever so much.” Then, she turns to me. “Come along, my friend.”
I follow, because what else can I do? The bracelet will go off if I wander too far from her side, but at least I’m out of that cell. I’m not entirely sure I’m still going to prison at this point, so this is definitely a step up. I can easily overpower one small human female, given the chance.
I can still make my off world rendezvous with the va Sithai brothers.
I follow the female out to her air-sled. It’s an older one, one that looks like it’s had many repairs. A piece of keffing junk, I’d call it, but it fires up all right and with the right hand, it could probably purr like a kitten. That’s my speciality—fixing up old machines, especially sleds. But I don’t show this. I keep my face neutral as we get into the air-sled and she taps on a button with an unfamiliar word on the screen. The air-sled speeds up and starts on its course, leaving Risda III’s sorry port behind and heading across the open fields and crops that make up most of the land here.
Neither of us says anything. I’m too busy mentally mapping out our location and eyeing the speeder. It shouldn’t be a problem to hotwire. A good override program, then a few tweaks here and there—
“We’re far enough away now, I think,” she says. Her voice sounds entirely different. Gone is the calm, sweet tone. Gone is the air of fragility, too. In its place is a woman with steel in her spine. She reaches over and pulls off the shock-bracelet and then tosses it out the window. “Fuck that thing.”
Well, well, well. This gets more interesting by the moment. “Mind telling me what’s going on?”
She gives me a cool glance. “Jutari said you were re-captured and waiting for deportation. I thought you might be perfect for my needs. So I went to the jail and greased a few palms to get you out.”
So she knows my old friend Jutari? I narrow my eyes, watching her. She went there looking specifically for me, then. It means that the entire show of “choosing” someone at the jail was all made up. It means she knew exactly what she wanted the moment she showed up. It means she’s been planning all this and played the innocent, bewildered miss back at the jail to work those guards over.
Kef me, but I’ve never been so damned turned on in my life. “You have me out. What do you want?”
I expect to hear any number of things. I’m a convict, on the run from prison. No one comes to Risda III because the universe has given them a good shake. They come here to hide out, to hope the universe never notices them again. She could be asking me to steal something for her. To murder someone. To help her do any number of things, both sordid and not.
Instead, this fascinating human looks over at me with those big brown eyes. “We have to get married. Also, I need you to get me pregnant. Tonight, preferably.”
2
PIPER
His reaction to my proposal is…not encouraging.
I know it’s a lot to take in. I’m still processing all of it myself. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and I’ve learned that I’m willing to do anything—anything at all—to save my farm and my freedom.
If that means springing a convict, marrying him, and then having him get me pregnant? I’m game.
It’s clearly a lot for him to absorb, though. I’ve had weeks to process this, to cry, and then to grimly accept my fate. I’ve been working on this plan for sleepless night after sleepless night, trying to figure out the best way to move forward while staying under the radar. It was Chloe—the wife of an alien named Jutari—who alerted me to their friend and his situation. That Jutari knew an old friend from Haven, which was a prison planet. That the man had escaped and been lying low on Risda and doing odd jobs, but he’d gotten scooped up by bounty hunters looking to make a quick buck on the side. He’s been rotting in jail for days now, about to be shipped off world and back to the prison.
His situation is desperate. Mine, too. Luckily for me, I know there’s a lot of shady things that happen behind closed doors, so it’s a problem that can be fixed with the right amount of money. I wouldn’t have gotten anywhere with the peace officers here if they’d known I was looking to get Vordigar specifically. They would have charged me a fortune and squeezed every last credit out of me that they could have.
So I played up the dumb, innocent human. I baked those fuckers cookies. I batted my lashes and pretended to be completely and utterly unsure of myself. I told them I needed a slave to run my farm, no questions asked, and they were all too happy to take my bribe. That’s how things go on the outer rim, I’ve learned. Credits pave the way for everything and laws can be completely circumvented with the right bribe. Now, Vordigar is mine.
Theoretically. Since it’s all under the table, my “ownership” of him is only going to last until he escapes. From the look of him, that won’t be long, either.
He rubs his wrist, silent, in the spot where he had the shock-bracelet on his hand. I try not to stare at him as my air-sled speeds over crop fields, heading toward my distant farm. I’m a few hours’ flight away from port, so I’ve got plenty of time to convince Vordigar he needs to stay with me.
“I know it’s a lot to throw at you at once,” I say. “But hear me out.”
“Oh, I’m listening.” He’s starting to recover, that sly grin returning to his mouth. He’s clearly the type that uses humor to deflect, but I don’t have time for fun and games. I notice he watches the countryside and eyes my air-sled’s control panel. He’s got a look on his face that tells me he’s already plotting his next move.
I don’t feel unsafe, though. I’ve been around murderers and all kinds of galactic scum in the past. You notice real quickly the ones that won’t think twice about killing you. They have a certain look in their eye when they watch you, like you’re an ant that they’re thinking about holding a magnifying glass over. They’re more interested in how to hurt you than anything else. There’s a coldness to their manner.
Jutari has that. Chloe told me he used to be an assassin, and I absolutely believe it. There’s a calculating, almost cruel look in his gaze when he studies anyone…anyone except his wife and baby, that is. With them, he melts.
This man—alien—doesn’t have that cold calculation in his eyes. He’s scheming, all right, but when he looks at me, he watches my face, glances at my tits, and studies my hands. He looks at me like I’m a person, not a thing to be disposed of. Whatever he was in prison for, it’s not murder. I’ve heard that a lot of mesakkah got shipped off to prisons when some war of theirs went awry, though. Maybe that’s the case here.