Maverick Page 10

  Al covered a yawn. “I suppose it does.”

  Clearly the discussion about enticement wasn’t going to happen right now—not with Althea about to fall asleep at the helm.

  She yawned again. “I’d forgotten what it was like to be on a ship with no idea what time of day it is. Must be bedtime somewhere.”

  If Larry hadn’t been asleep for as long as he had, he would’ve sworn she was faking the yawns. However, he knew what boredom could do to bring on the sleepies. “Looks like we’ve wound up on opposite shifts whether we like it or not.”

  “Maybe. I could stay awake a while longer if you want some company.”

  “Nah. I’m used to it,” he said. “On any given day, Brak and I are only awake together for about eight hours at a stretch. Kinda nice to have a third crewmate, though. Less time on duty.” More time for mind-numbing boredom. He’d sometimes questioned the wisdom of this lifestyle, which was why he’d actually considered settling down somewhere with Celeste and letting his clients come to him for a change. Or maybe bringing her with them on the Stooge was the answer. He still wasn’t sure if she’d like that or not. She seemed pretty happy on Rhylos.

  “Ever thought about buying a farm on Terra Minor?” Althea asked.

  He stood gaping at her for what seemed like hours. Had she actually read his thoughts? “Well, no. Not lately. I used to think I might, but Mom’s wanderlust appears to be hereditary.”

  She raised a brow. “Kinda like me wanting to live in the woods or the jungle and be the local witch?”

  He nodded. “Never asked you about that. Did you do much healing on Barada?”

  “Some,” she replied. “Word gets around when you do something that seems miraculous even when it really isn’t. I stitched up a cut on a kid’s hand once. Everyone thought it was amazing, but they could’ve done it themselves if they’d realized they could sew up a cut as easily as they can sew fabric.”

  In Larry’s opinion, the two tasks had very little in common, mainly because most fabrics didn’t scream when they were stuck with a needle. “Don’t they have their own healers and medicines?”

  “Oh, sure. Fuuslak juice is their main cure-all, but there are a number of other plants with medicinal properties—at least, according to the healers I talked with. Part of what I was doing there was cataloging their medicinal herbs. The Baradans don’t get sick very often, so I could only rely on anecdotal evidence to support the healers’ claims.” She shrugged. “Come to think of it, I never got sick the whole time I lived there. As immunologically naive as I am now, I’ll probably catch every bug that comes my way.”

  “I doubt that. Considering all the stuff we’ve been exposed to in our lives, we’ll probably never even catch a cold. I can’t remember the last time I was sick.”

  “Better knock on wood real quick,” she said with a sardonic smile. “No point in tempting fate.”

  Larry chuckled. “You sound just like my mother.”

  “Yeah, well, I grew up with her too, you know. I picked up almost as many of her quirks as you guys did, maybe more.”

  “We do share a lot of history.” Except for the past four years. Now that he was with her again, he realized how big a hole her departure had left in his own life. Perhaps even larger than the one created by the absence of his brothers. Or anyone else in his family—or hers—for that matter. For all practical purposes, the two were one and the same, despite not being related by blood.

  “I’ve really missed you, Al.” The words popped out faster than he could come up with a good reason to leave them unsaid. The next thing he knew, he’d be purring again.

  “I’ve missed you too, Larry. I missed all of you. I just needed the alone time.”

  “Think you can handle it better now? The emotional racket, I mean.” After four years in the jungle, she ought to be craving it.

  “I hope so. Guess we’ll find out, huh?”

  “Yeah. Although your empathic talent might come in useful when we pick up the Statzeelians. I’d give a Darconian glowstone to know what they’re up to.”

  “Did they seem to be running from something or after something?” she asked.

  “Dunno. Like I said, they were pretty tight-lipped about their reasons for being out this far.” He rubbed his chin while contemplating the possibilities. Considering their predicament, he pretty much held all the cards. “Might make coming clean a stipulation for picking them up.”

  “Oh, come on, Larry,” she scoffed. “You’re not that hard-hearted. You’ve always been a pushover, and you know it.”

  She was right, of course. He wasn’t precisely a sucker for a hard-luck story, but he knew genuine desperation when he saw it, and he could afford to be generous when the need arose. Case in point, the number of spare parts he’d practically given away since beginning this venture. No doubt Brak would’ve demanded a larger share of their income if he’d known the value of a few of those items. While none of the parts inventory actually belonged to Brak, most of which Larry had accumulated over a lifetime of tinkering with comsystems, he certainly could’ve charged more for repairs. Not that Brak ever actually complained.

  I’m not going to think about why that might be.

  “Maybe so,” he said. “But they don’t know that, do they?”

  Chapter 10

  Althea couldn’t imagine the Larry she knew pulling the wool over anyone’s eyes. At least not successfully. But perhaps he’d changed. “That’ll be twice you’ve helped them out. Maybe they’ll figure they owe you an explanation without any coercion.”

  “I dunno,” he said. “Might take an empath to get to the truth.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I can only read emotions, Larry. Not actual thoughts.”

  “Yeah, but you’ll be able to tell if they’re lying or not. That’s the main thing.”

  Althea suspected Larry could do that as well or better than she could but didn’t bother to say so. Not when Larry’s stomach let out a growl that would’ve awakened a hibernating Alturian bearcat. “Could I interest you in some breakfast?”

  For a long moment, his only reply was an expression of pure bewilderment. Then he blinked and shook his head. “Sure, Al. What did you have in mind?”

  Now it was her turn to hesitate. Given the context, there was nothing suggestive in what he’d said. So why did it make her want to bite him? For that same reason, whatever it was, her shrug wasn’t quite as casual as she’d intended. “What would you like?”

  “Surprise me.”

  Having grown up with Larry, Althea knew exactly what he liked for breakfast, but she hadn’t noticed any hapwickle eggs in the stasis unit. Perhaps she should’ve delved a bit deeper.

  The mere thought of the word deeper had her mouth watering again. She swallowed and licked her lips. What if what she’d told Brak was equally true about herself? That the lack of options and isolation would make anyone seem like the perfect sexual partner?

  More like desperation.

  She rubbed her eyes and let out a yawn that was only partially feigned. “I’ll see what I can find.” After relinquishing the helm to Larry, she started for the door. “By the way, did you know Brak is something of a solitaire champion?”

  “Guess he told you the story about the Viridian.”

  Judging from Larry’s aggrieved tone and grimace, Althea suspected there was more to the tale than Brak had seen fit to share. “Yes, he did. He seems to believe I’m good luck or something equally ridiculous.”

  “You might be.” He adjusted the seat and reset the screen mode to standard. “However, I’m not taking him back to Viridia to find out. That creep must’ve seen him coming.” He snorted with disgust. “A cardsharp pretending to be a novice is nothing but a cheat and a liar.”

  Althea nodded in vague agreement as the words seen him coming gave her mind’s eye precedence. Her surroundings blurred as she imagine
d actually watching Larry come—his sweet, luscious semen spurting from the slit in the ruffled head of his big, thick dick.

  Holy Hektat!

  Turning quickly, she pressed her fingertips to her lips to hold back a groan and sped off down the corridor.

  Even though she’d never actually seen Larry’s cock, she knew enough about Zetithian anatomy and physiology to know what his should look like.

  Not to mention how good he would taste.

  Or the effect his semen—or snard as it was called in the Zetithian language—would have on her: chemically induced orgasms and euphoria. She’d never had sex with a Zetithian, and the sex she’d had with men of other species hadn’t done a damn thing for her. She’d even needed a lubricant, and an aphrodisiac—or a sedative—might’ve been helpful. She’d hoped her Terran blood would make a difference in her sexual response, but no such luck.

  The males could do anyone with the right scent, and those scents weren’t even species-specific. But for a Zetithian female, only a Zetithian male would do.

  And for a Zetithian-Terran woman with Mordrial ancestry, there would probably only be one man who fit the bill throughout the vast reaches of the entire galaxy.

  Why did it have to be Larry? Why now, when she’d known him all her life?

  As she made her way to the galley, the greater distance between them helped to clear her head enough to form a rational hypothesis. Apparently, at least one of them had reached some milestone in their sexual maturity while they were apart. Would the same thing have happened if they’d still been living aboard the Jolly Roger all this time? Or did absence truly make the heart grow fonder?

  Perhaps it did. Larry hadn’t even been purring this time. He’d only said a few things that her warped brain had interpreted as suggestive. Rather than getting used to being around him, her physiological responses were becoming increasingly pronounced. That is, if taut, tingling nipples and a damp, heated core were to be believed. The worst part was she had absolutely no control over her autonomic and hormonal functions.

  Oh, of course she did. All she had to do was fix his breakfast and then get as far away from him as possible. Distance was the key. That and making a point of sleeping whenever he was awake.

  With that in mind, she whipped up a chili and cheese omelet, enchilada style. All those spices would surely keep him awake for a good, long time, after which he’d conk out, and then she’d be stuck hanging around with Brak again.

  Clearly, manipulating Larry’s diet wasn’t the best tactic.

  I should never have come on this trip.

  Much like her fondness for Larry, the Baradan jungle seemed more like paradise with each light-year the ship put between them. The fact that Barada truly was paradise didn’t help any. She could’ve begged Larry to take her back, but not with a pair of half siblings stranded on a potentially dangerous planet. He wouldn’t leave them there any longer than he had to. Plus, she still hadn’t come to terms with having a half sister. After they picked them up, only then would she ask him to take her back to Barada. He could figure out his girlfriend’s true feelings on his own, and if he didn’t trust himself, he could ask his mother for her opinion. Jack had always considered an unmated adult Zetithian male to be an abomination, and more than likely she felt the same way about her own grown sons. No doubt she would advise him to marry Celeste ASAP.

  She caught herself growling at the very thought of Jack urging Larry to mate with that curvy blond, then cursed as one of her fangs pierced her lip.

  Being up front with Larry was probably the best way out of this mess. He knew as much about Zetithian biology as she did. Surely he of all people would understand the problem. Once her attraction to him was out in the open, she could put those feelings behind her. Maybe even enough to joke about them.

  “You’re driving me crazy, Larry,” she muttered. “Better scram before I bite you.” She growled again. “Yeah, right. I can really hear myself saying that.”

  Balancing the plate on one hand, she grabbed a fork and a napkin and headed for the bridge. She didn’t have to stay there and chat with Larry while he ate. She could go back to her quarters and read a book or watch a movie. A nice British murder mystery sounded good. Maybe Sherlock Holmes or Agatha Christie or something more recent, like those Edraitian Brothers mysteries she used to watch. There were bound to be some episodes she’d missed. Definitely nothing romantic or sentimental about that series.

  Unless it was a romance gone wrong. Then there was that “hell hath no fury” thing, which appeared to be true regardless of the gender of the person scorned.

  When she stepped onto the bridge, Larry was standing in front of the main viewscreen, quite literally staring off into space.

  “Here you go,” she announced, only then realizing that, without ever intending to do so, she’d managed to take on the role of ship’s cook. While that job might not be as glamorous as piloting, it was every bit as important to the crew’s well-being. No doubt her time in the galley would increase after the Statzeelians came aboard. If she timed it right, she could be in there cooking during all of her waking hours. That way, she could avoid damn near anyone.

  With that cheery thought in mind, she plunked the plate down on the side table and turned to go.

  “Please don’t leave yet.” Larry’s tone of voice was so somber, so unlike him, it snagged her attention.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  He moved away from the screen and approached the pilot’s station, stopping a few paces from her. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry for what?”

  “For dragging you away from your home and then going off on so many tangents.” He heaved a sigh. “And especially for purring when I had no business doing so. I can tell it made you uncomfortable, but I honestly didn’t mean to purr or try to entice you. It just…happened.”

  Her heart took a tiny but excruciating dip, delaying her response for the few seconds it took for that organ to start functioning normally again. “No problem, Larry. I understand perfectly. Consider that episode forgotten.”

  Even standing there saying he had no romantic or sexual interest in her, he still made her long to sink her fangs into that succulent muscle at the base of his neck. But apparently, a curvy blond had more going for her than a childhood pal. The idea that he might actually fall for the girl next door was a pipe dream, even less likely than peace and harmony becoming the norm throughout the galaxy.

  He took a step closer. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, Al. Not ever. We’ve been friends too long for something so silly to come between us now.”

  Silly? He thought enticing her was silly? Honest to Hektat—she was starting to like that Scorillian god—if he didn’t shut up soon, she really was going to bite him. And not because he was so, to quote Brak, dreamy, but because she wanted to hurt him as much as he’d hurt her.

  She cleared her throat. “Like I said, it’s forgotten.” Or it would be if he ever stopped harping on it.

  “Good. Now we can get back to normal.”

  Normal? When was it normal for Larry to hurt her feelings? He’d never done that, not even as a thoughtless child. He’d always been kind and considerate—which was undoubtedly why his careless words caused her so much pain now.

  “Sounds good.” She nodded toward the plate. “Eat up. I’m going to go watch some movies.” Somehow, she managed to smile. “Haven’t done that for a long, long time.”

  “Did you miss it? Civilization, I mean.”

  She chuckled. “The Baradans would take exception to that. They’re perfectly civilized. Just not mechanized.”

  He shot her a dark look. “You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean. And to answer your question, sometimes yes, but more often no. You get into a rhythm there, and with so much beauty surrounding you, boredom isn’t an issue. After all, where else can you look
up and see a purple sky?”

  “Nowhere else that I know of.” When his stomach growled again, he took the hint and sat down, then he picked up his fork and dug into the omelet. “This is really good, Al,” he said after the first bite. “But then, you always were a good cook.”

  “Thanks. Guess I take after my mother.” In so many ways. She tried to think of traits she’d inherited from her father, but other than his Zetithian characteristics, she couldn’t come up with any. Perhaps that resemblance was something only an outsider could recognize.

  “You certainly didn’t pick up any cooking tips from my mother,” he said. “She’ll eat anything and assumes everyone else feels the same way.” He shuddered. “I still get stomachaches just thinking about those Suerlin marching rations she made us eat.”

  She nodded. “They were pretty awful, except for those little crunchy things that tasted sort of salty.”

  “Never ate them myself,” Larry said around a mouthful of his omelet. “I always assumed they were bugs that had gotten into the packages and hatched before they were freeze-dried.”

  The realization that he was probably right made her stomach lurch. “You just had to say that, didn’t you?”

  “Water under the bridge,” he said with a wave of his fork. “Besides, they were probably some sort of special treat on that world—something only the soldiers were allowed to have. They weren’t the strangest thing we’ve ever eaten, that’s for sure.”

  “You got that right.” She leaned back against the weapons console. For once, she wasn’t feeling the need to bite him, which may have been the result of hurt feelings or the thought of eating freeze-dried bugs, although it was more likely that she was simply getting used to being around him again. At least, she hoped that was the reason. “Cooking is the one thing I missed while I was on Barada. Eating raw fruits and veggies doesn’t allow for much in the way of creativity.”