Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Emma woke slowly, disoriented by the unfamiliar warmth pressed against her. For a moment, she forgot where she was—forgot the cell, the ship, and the terror of the past days—and simply existed in a cocoon of comfort. Then she registered the arm wrapped around her waist.
Her eyes flew open.
Golden-furred skin. A steady heartbeat beneath her cheek. The faint scent of something spicy and distinctly male. Doren.
Her memories came flooding back. The escape. The baby. His teasing offer to share the bed and her exhausted, impulsive acceptance.
She’d slept in his arms all night. And not just slept—slept deeply and peacefully, without the nightmares she’d expected. Without waking in terror or crying out from half-remembered fears. She’d simply... rested.
That hadn’t happened since she’d been taken.
She lay still, not quite ready to move, cataloging the sensation of his body against hers. His chest rose and fell with steady breaths, and his tail had somehow wound around her ankle during the night. She could feel each individual breath he took, the subtle shift of muscle beneath his skin.
This is insane, she thought. I barely know him. He’s an alien smuggler who essentially kidnapped me from my kidnappers. I should not be comfortable right now.
But she was comfortable. Inexplicably, impossibly comfortable.
A low rumbling sound vibrated through his chest, and she realized with a start that he was awake.
“You snore,” he said, his voice rough with sleep.
“I do not.”
“You do. It’s endearing. Like a small engine struggling to start.”
She lifted her head to glare at him, but the effect was undermined by the fact that she was still lying half on top of him. His blue eyes gleamed with amusement, and his hair was disheveled in a way that should have looked ridiculous but somehow managed to be attractive.
“You’re awful,” she informed him.
“I’ve been told.” His arm tightened around her waist, just slightly. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yes.” The admission came out before she could stop it. “Better than I have in... a while.”
Something shifted in his expression. The teasing warmth remained, but beneath it lurked something more serious. More vulnerable.
“Good,” he said quietly. “That’s... good.”
They stayed like that for a moment, suspended in the strange intimacy of morning. She was acutely aware of everywhere their bodies touched—her palm flat against his chest, his tail wrapped around her ankle, their legs tangled together beneath the thermal blanket.
“So,” he murmured, his voice dropping into something lower and more dangerous, “are you planning to stay there all day? Not that I’m complaining.”
“Maybe I am.” The words surprised her. Where had that come from?
His eyes darkened. “You’re playing a dangerous game, little human.”
“Maybe I like dangerous games.”
She didn’t know what possessed her. Maybe it was the lingering warmth of sleep, or the way he looked at her like she was something precious rather than a burden. Maybe it was simply the accumulated stress of the past days finally cracking her usual caution.
Whatever the reason, she leaned forward and kissed him.
It was meant to be quick. A small act of defiance against the fear that had ruled her since she’d woken in that cell. Just a brief press of lips, nothing more.
But the moment their mouths met, something ignited.
His hand came up to cup the back of her head, his fingers threading through her tangled hair, and he deepened the kiss with a low sound that vibrated through her entire body.
She gasped against his lips, and he used the opportunity to taste her properly, his tongue sliding against hers with devastating skill.
She’d been kissed before. She’d had boyfriends, fleeting relationships that never quite stuck. But this was different. This was fire and hunger and a desperate need she hadn’t known she possessed. His mouth wasn’t quite a human mouth, his tongue wider and rougher, but it only added to the pleasure.
He rolled them, pinning her beneath him without breaking the kiss. His weight pressed her into the bed, and she arched up into him instinctively, seeking more contact. His tail unwound from her ankle only to curl around her thigh, the sensation strange and thrilling all at once.
“Emma.” Her name was a growl against her lips. “We should—”
“Don’t stop.”
He gave a breathless laugh. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
He kissed her again, harder this time, one hand sliding down her side to grip her hip.
She could feel his claws through the thin fabric of her gown—not quite touching skin, but close enough to make her shiver.
Everything was heat and sensation and a growing ache between her thighs that demanded satisfaction.
A thin, piercing wail cut through the moment, and they both froze.
Ari’s cry rose in pitch, the unmistakable sound of an infant demanding attention, and her head fell back against the pillow with a groan.
“Perfect timing,” he muttered as he pulled back, and she immediately missed his warmth. Her body felt overheated and restless, desire still thrumming through her veins with nowhere to go. She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to calm her racing heart.
“I should—” She gestured vaguely toward the drawer-bed where Ari was expressing her displeasure at full volume.
“Yes.” He sat up, running a hand through his already-disheveled mane. “You should.”
She scrambled off the bed, grateful for the distraction even as part of her wanted to throttle the baby for her timing. Her legs felt unsteady, and she was certain her face was bright red.
What just happened?
She’d kissed an alien smuggler. And she’d liked it. A lot.
Ari’s cries intensified, and she scooped her up, grateful for something to focus on other than the way her lips still tingled.
“Hey, sweetheart,” she murmured, bouncing gently. “It’s okay. I’m here.”
Behind her, she heard him moving around the cabin. She didn’t turn to look, too aware of what she might see—and of what might happen if she let herself get distracted again.
Focus. Baby first. Existential crisis about alien makeout sessions later.
Ari quieted as she walked her around the small space, her cries subsiding into soft hiccups. The baby’s large dark eyes fixed on her face with that unnerving infant intensity, like she was trying to memorize every feature.
“You need a change,” she diagnosed, wrinkling her nose. “And probably breakfast.”
“I’ll handle the bottle.” His voice came from behind her, carefully neutral. “You handle the, ah, other situation.”
“Such generosity.”
“I’m nothing if not accommodating.”
She risked a glance at him. He stood at the replicator, his back to her, but she could see the tension in his shoulders. Good. At least she wasn’t the only one affected.
The diaper change was awkward but manageable, thanks to Doren’s makeshift supplies. By the time she’d finished, he had the bottle ready and a bowl of porridge waiting for her.
“Breakfast,” he announced, setting the food on the small table. “Eat while I feed her.”
She blinked. “You’re going to feed her?”
“Unless you have objections?”
“No, I just...” She watched as he settled into a seat, cradling Ari in one arm with surprising confidence. The baby latched onto the bottle immediately, her small hands coming up to grip his fingers. “I didn’t expect you to offer.”
“I’m full of surprises.”
The image was incongruous and oddly touching. This tall, dangerous smuggler holding the tiny silver-skinned infant like it was the most natural thing in the world. Ari’s eyes never left his face.
“She really does like you,” she said softly, sinking down next to him.
“As I said. Excellent taste.”
“And terrible judgment.”
He grinned, but there was something gentler in his expression now. Something that made her chest feel too tight.
She focused on her porridge, trying not to stare at them. The food was warm and filling and surprisingly good but she ate mechanically, her mind still spinning from the kiss.
What does this mean? Does it mean anything? He’s taking us to a space station and then... what? We go our separate ways? He finds some way to send me home?
The thought of home sent a pang through her chest. Her home. Her classroom. Her students, probably wondering where she’d gone. Was Alison looking for her? Had her father tried to call?
“You’re thinking too hard.” His deep voice pulled her from her spiral. “I can practically see the steam coming out of your ears.”
“Sorry. Just... processing.”
“Processing the kiss, or processing the entire situation?”
“Both?” She laughed, the sound slightly hysterical. “I’m sorry, it’s just—a week ago, I was grading spelling tests and planning my Christmas shopping. Now I’m on a stolen spaceship with an alien smuggler and a baby who might be the key to some ancient vault, and I just—”
“Kissed said alien smuggler senseless?”
“I did not kiss you senseless.”
“My senses would disagree.” He shifted Ari to his other arm, completely at ease. “But if it helps, I’m equally confused by the situation.”
“That does help, actually.”
“I aim to please.”
A chime sounded from the cockpit, and he looked up.
“That’s our proximity alert. We’re about to come out of hyperspace. We’ll reach Bragar’s Rest within the hour.” He stood, carefully transferring Ari to her arms. “Come. You should see this.”
She followed him to the cockpit, settling into the co-pilot’s seat with Ari cradled against her chest. The viewport showed a swirling tunnel of color but as she watched, the colors began to slow and separate.
“Dropping out of hyperspace in three... two... one.”
The universe snapped back into focus, and a short time later Bragar’s Rest appeared in the view screen.
It was nothing like she’d expected. She’d imagined something sleek and modern, all chrome and glass like the space stations in movies.
Instead, the station looked like it had been assembled from a hundred different sources—mismatched modules bolted together at odd angles, ships of every size and shape docked along its sprawling arms, lights blinking in chaotic patterns across its surface.
It was ugly and beautiful and impossibly real.
“Welcome to the armpit of the sector,” he said dryly. “Home to smugglers, pirates, black market dealers, and anyone else who’d rather avoid official attention.”
“It’s amazing.”
“That’s one word for it.”
She couldn’t tear her eyes away. Ships moved around the station like fish around a reef—small shuttles, massive freighters, and sleek vessels she couldn’t identify.
Through gaps in the modules, she could see the purple glow of a distant nebula, and beyond it, stars scattered like diamonds across black velvet.
“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” she whispered.
He glanced at her, something unreadable in his expression.
“Wait until you see the inside. It’s considerably less romantic.”
“I can’t wait.”
He went still.
“No.”
“But you said—”
“Emma.” He turned to face her, his expression serious. “Do you know what they’d do if they saw you? An unregistered human female?”
She swallowed. “What?”
“They’d sell you. Within an hour of setting foot on that station, you’d be on your way to an auction house, and there would be nothing I could do to stop it.”
“But—”
“You’re worth a fortune,” he continued, his voice harsh. “Human females are incredibly rare and ever since the Emperor mated one, they’re even more valuable. Collectors, slavers, species with... particular tastes... they’d pay astronomical sums for someone like you.”
The blood drained from her face. “Someone like me?”
“Young. Healthy. Beautiful.” His jaw tightened. “I’m not saying this to frighten you. I’m saying it because you need to understand the reality of where we are. There are no laws in a place like this. The only thing standing between you and a very unpleasant fate is staying hidden.”
She looked down at Ari, who had fallen asleep against her chest. The baby’s small face was peaceful and trusting.
“What about her?”
“That’s even worse. She doesn’t just have market value. The Grorn want her. If they even suspect she’s here...”
He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.
“So what do we do?” Her voice was small, the wonder of the stars replaced by cold dread. “Just stay on the ship?”
“Yes.” He shook his head. “I have a contact on the station. Someone I trust. We’ll dock at a private bay, and I’ll go to meet him. You’ll stay on the ship with the door locked. I’ll be back within a few hours.”
“And if something goes wrong?”
“Then you take this ship and run.” He keyed something into the console. “I’m programming an emergency escape route into the navigation system. If I’m not back in six hours, you initiate the sequence and don’t look back.”
“Doren—”
“This isn’t negotiable.” His voice softened slightly. “I know you want to help. But the best thing you can do right now is stay safe. Can you do that for me?”
She wanted to argue. Every instinct screamed at her to insist on accompanying him, refusing to be left behind like some damsel in distress.
But she looked at the station growing larger in the viewport—at the ships and modules and the promise of dangers she couldn’t even imagine—and she knew he was right.
“Fine,” she said quietly. “But if you’re not back in six hours, I’m coming after you.”
He laughed, but there was warmth beneath the humor. “I’d expect nothing less.”“
She looked out at the station again, the dark underbelly of the universe suddenly much clearer.
This wasn’t some grand adventure. This was a nightmare with beautiful scenery.
He reached out, his hand covering hers where it rested on the armrest. His palm was warm and slightly rough against her skin.
“You’re not alone in this,” he said. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Or her.”
The conviction in his voice was so absolute that she wanted to believe him. She wanted to trust that this alien smuggler with his charm and his secrets could somehow protect them from the dangers ahead.
“I know,” she said, because what else was there to say?
He squeezed her hand once, then returned his attention to the controls. The flyer began its approach to the station, weaving easily through the chaotic traffic. She watched the station grow larger in the viewport, its mismatched sections becoming more distinct.
A new fear rose to join the others, a much more personal one.
What happens after we leave this station? What happens when we’re alone again, and there’s no external threat to distract us from... this?
She glanced at him, at the set of his jaw and the focused intensity of his eyes.
At the hand that still rested over hers on the console.
Whatever had started between them on that narrow bed couldn’t continue, not in the real world of space stations and black markets and ancient keys.
It was a distraction they couldn’t afford.
But as their ship moved through the darkness towards the glittering chaos ahead, a small, treacherous part of her hoped that somehow, in this strange new life, there might be room for more than just survival.