Handsome Devil (6 page)

I put everything away and pull down the rest of the seats. Oy, this is uncomfortable. I sigh. I didn't really think this mutiny thing through. I should have taken over the bridge
and
a room with a bed.
 

I sigh again, closing my eyes, hoping luck will be on my side when I wake up.

Chapter Four

I am not without my tricks.

I have also never encountered a female as utterly baffling as the Agmoiria.

Those two notions are not unrelated.

As I eat (I do not believe in finding solutions on an empty stomach) I think on the truly outlandish display back on the bridge. I do not know why an angry human female would perform a mating dance after she has taken over my ship. I also do not understand why, after tempting me so, she refused to let me in.

But...as I have seen with Feruz and Bethina, daughters of Moiria Jenner are more strange than usual. It is what attracted Feruz. I should hardly be surprised to fall under the same spell.

Perhaps my shock was too pronounced. It was the last thing I expected her to do, after all, and I grappled with confusion and an arousal so biting it swept my puzzlement away, leaving only too-hot skin and a cock that strained against my trousers.

The female is not as lacking in intelligence as I surmised. No one of dim mind could commandeer a ship's controls that quickly. Therefore she must have enticed me intentionally. It is the only answer. She saw my attraction to her and decided to use it to torment me.

How long did she spy on my ministrations on my leg before I noticed? She stared at my cock with open admiration. Her mouth parted, her lashes sweeping down, she looked like sex personified. I wanted to grip my dick in my hand and lift it higher for her to see, to show her just what I could offer.

Instead she turned away. The Agmoiria flaunted her grace, then barred me from my own bridge and shook her luscious ass for my enjoyment. By doing so she issued a challenge.
Come and get me
.

Strange as the timing of her declaration of interest is, I will not turn away from it. When I lay my hands on the delightful globes of flesh that are her backside, I have every intention of punishing her for her teasing.

Never tempt a hunter, Agmoiria.

It has been over an hour since I left her. I have taken my time eating, wanting to relish the taste of good food in case she decided to turn the same dirty trick she played on Feruz on my own ship. If she is as talented with the computer as that sort of thing implies, by now the Agmoiria will have realized she cannot steer the ship. She will have no choice but to sit and wait on the bridge. Part of the thrill of the hunt is the expectancy that builds with waiting. It is late by the female's time standard. She will feel safe and secure behind the thick door she has used to prohibit me.

The solitude, the silence, and the hour will lull her into complacency.

That is when I will strike.

I stand and stretch lazily, savoring each pull of my muscles. The aches are still present, but I own them, marks honorably earned in conflict. I purr as I lower my arms, scratching my belly. The meal has sated me, and I look upon the coming battle with the Agmoiria with eagerness. My impression of her has been altered. She is a wily female, unpredictable. I like that.

Tease or not, my predatory interest has been engaged.

I stroll to the supply closet. There is no reason to hurry. If my instincts are correct—and I have been known to trust them more than hard facts—there is plenty of time. It takes mere moments to locate the toolkit within, tucked between certain canned goods. It is a heavy canvas bag that has everything I need: drill, hammer, nails, a crowbar, the sundries. What concerns me are the various sets of screwdrivers. The door may be thick and blast proof, but it cannot ignore basic mechanics. Old fashioned doors use hinges.

Hinges require screws to be held in place.

I could of course cut through with the metal slicer, but why do unnecessary damage to the ship? It is for all intents and purposes my home away from home. It is my haven, my fortress, and my kingdom. One little half-human, no matter how cunning, is not going to cause me to destroy any part of that realm.

As I walk along the corridor, I take pride in the consistent hum of the engine and the occasional pop or thunk that breaks the drone. Every inch I walk upon is mine, and each sound tells me that the vessel is working hard to perform to my standards.

My heavy boot steps are somewhat muffled by the white noise, but I still take care as I climb the last set of stairs and approach the door. I do not wish to alert the Agmoiria that I have come. The element of surprise, I am beginning to find, works best in dealing with her.

I glance through the glass and do not see her in the captain's chair. I tilt my head to the left. There is the bag she carried, and I see a hint of hair peeking around the corner. She is lying on the chairs. I watch for a moment, but detect no movement. Asleep, just as I had calculated.

I waste no time getting to work. Each task is precisely and exactly carried out. Again, I am in no hurry, but my goal is in sight. I find my mind wandering to the near future, when I am within and there is nowhere for her to run.

Naturally I hope she will try anyway. Ah, the chase. The sweet, sweet thrill. I pause in my ministrations, closing my eyes and allowing a hum of predicted enjoyment to escape. A female like the Agmoiria will be an exciting lover. It is an unexpected bonus of this trip, but I cannot claim to be unaffected. She is attractive, fierce, and contentious. Perhaps she is not as quick to assimilate information as others are, but she has proven her mental capability through her—admittedly diabolical—computer manipulation.

An acceptable female with which to dally.

I look forward to untying that knot of hair and investigating just how deep I can bury my fingers within the strands.

When the last screw is removed, entry is a simple matter of grasping certain protrusions and using them to push the door inward. I am careful to be quiet, not wanting to wake her. Little by little I use my significant strength to ease the door and its bar to the edges of the brackets that hold the bar in place. A gap appears between the door and the wall. Cool air floats out. I now have enough clearance to  simply lift the door free of the restraints.

It works just as I expect. This is, after all, my ship. I know its nooks and crannies as well as I know my own body.

I step over the threshold with silent movements, cautiously propping the detached door against the wall. I will have to reassemble it later, naturally, but for now I focus on the female currently occupying my bridge.

When I am satisfied the door is secure, I move stealthily across the shiny floor. She appears to me in increments: knotted curly hair, bared shoulders. I keep to the opposite wall so that I may see her more fully as I advance. I want to observe everything. She is curled up, her knees drawn towards her chest, one hand hanging limply over the edge. She is cold, one arm hugging her torso.

I come forward. One step. Two. She does not stir.

I am inches from her, and she is so deep in her sleep that she cannot sense me. No, this woman is not a warrior. I stand for several minutes, watching each soft exhalation. This is the moment in which she is the most vulnerable, and I marvel at her ability to sleep on. I do not know if I should call it a strength or a weakness, but I am grateful for the opportunity to study her at my leisure.

I lean down, breathing in her scent. It is the same citric tang I detected earlier. I embed it deeper in my sensory memory.

She has very spiky, dark lashes. They form a half moon on her cheek, which bears signs of cleaning. The scratches and cuts will heal well. Everything about her indicates a wholesome, flourishing feminine body. The color of skin, the sheen of her hair, the steady, even breathing. In this state she is young and inviting.

A warmth settles over my chest. Pretty female. My gaze drops to her lips, which are slightly parted. What will that delectable mouth taste like against my own?

I bend even further to investigate.

Human brown eyes snap open. She screeches, the sound startling in its ferocity as she leaps up and promptly falls to the floor, nearly knocking me over in the process.

“
Jesus, M'anu!” She clutches at her chest, breathing hard. “Don't do that! I almost had a heart attack.” She shakes her head, apparently disoriented. “What happened? How long was I asleep?” She squints and curls up on herself, hands pressed to her forehead. “Ow.”

I come down on my haunches, eying her. “Did you strike your head again?”

She snorts. “Again. Like it was an accident the first time. I'm fine. I'm just...a little...” She turns her head and freezes, catching sight of the door for the first time. The full weight of the situation seems to sink in, for she slowly eases out a single, “Oh.”

She angles her body to mine by degrees, clearly trying to think of a way to escape. I do not bother to suppress the heating of my blood. The odds are once again in my favor, and like a feline with prey I intend to watch her fruitless resistance to the very end.

I angle my chin, my entire being focused on this little female.

Her gaze wavers under mine, darting from my shoulders to the ceiling to my face. She licks her lips and shifts nervously. “Um...”

I wait.

“
Do you...want to talk about the escape thing?”

I say nothing. Her skin is growing flushed. I watch the progress of blood coloring her chest and gradually climbing the fragile column of her neck. There are no bruises, I note. This pleases me. I do not regret my actions, but I doubt she would be very forgiving if her throat pained her because of me. I will reserve our rougher play for more intimate situations.

An image of her against the wall, screaming out while I pound into her delicious pussy from behind arises.

Her eyes widen infinitesimally. The silence stretches.

I can hear each inhalation and if I look hard enough, I can see the tattoo of her heartbeat at the base of her neck. Beyond that, there is nothing but the sound of my ship gliding towards its destination.  

I find that the lack of words heightens something between us. The awareness of her attractiveness has deepened into a desire to touch, to taste, to lick and explore. I allow my gaze to travel over her, my active imagination supplying a hundred different uses I have for each part.

Her hands tighten on her knees, the knuckles whitening.

Moving to kneel, I reach out and trace the edge of her finger.

Her breath hitches. She clenches her fist, withdrawing from my touch almost reflexively.

Still teasing? Unwise, yet titillating. I drag my finger down her leg, following the line of her shin through her rough trousers, a small
shhhh
the only audible disruption between us. I reach the curve of her bare ankle.

She shifts to move away, and I immediately shackle the bone with my fingers, baring my teeth just slightly in warning. I will not be denied this. I have overcome the obstacle she placed before me and this is my reward.

I want this female. I have decided that I will have her.

She looks down at my hand, inhaling sharply. “M'anu
—
”

I pull, uninterested in the excuses she will no doubt try to distract me with. In one fluid motion I bring her across the floor until she is nearly beneath me. Holding her leg flush against my side, I brace myself with a hand at her side. I spread my knees to bring my cock flush against her beckoning pussy, gaze locked on hers.

She grabs hold of my shoulders. “Oh my god!” Her fingers clench in the fabric of my overshirt, and I want to feel them against my skin. I release her leg to grasp at the hem.

She clasps my wrist with both hands, alarmed for reasons I cannot fathom. “What the—Jesus, this has got to be a dream, it has to be a
—
”

The ship shudders.

We both still. “What was that?” she asks just as an alarm sounds.

I back away and rise to my feet, a snarl already forming on my lips as I cross to the control panel. I do not want to be interrupted, and I especially do not want the disturbance to be caused by what I hazard. One glance at the controls, however, confirms my theory. “We have ceased to move.”

She scrambles onto all fours and then to her feet. “Why?” I can hear in her tone, however, that she already has an inkling.

My jaw clenches and an ugly feeling twists inside. “Pirates.”

xxxxx

My day just went from normal to bad to bizarre to worse.

I have no idea—no idea—what the hell happened to set M'anu off like that, but whoa nelly, it is not a memory that I am going to forget any time soon. One minute we're enemies and the next he's staring at me like I am number one on his list of must-haves.

“
Space pirates?” If I sound a little panicked, I don't give a damn. This is just icing on my cake. “Are you serious?”

M'anu snorts. “Would I joke about space pirates?” He looks ready to kill somebody. I thought he looked angry when he took me down in the courtyard. I am beginning to realize that was his 'mildly annoyed' face.

What I'm looking at now is scary shit.

But his blasé response triggers my bitch button. “You're treading on thin ice as it is, buddy. Don't choose right now to take me literally.” I form my hands into the football end goal position, trying to get him to focus on my face. “Why are there space pirates at our door?”

For the first time he looks chagrined. “Your bounty might have something to do with it.”

That is not what I want to hear. “Just how much are we talking about?”

He holds up three fingers. I stare. “Million or hundred thousand?” Then I change my mind. “You know what? I don't want to know. We're going to need guns. Really, really big guns. What's in your armory?”