Chapter 44
Varik rolled awayfrom the blond. They were no Jarn. The novelty of the hybrid had been fun, but Varik missed his lover. What should have been a journey to take The Treasure back as its rightful owner and captain had only led to the loss of his dear boy and the fucking gash, Cyra, still had his ship. The Treasure was his.
Knuckles rapped on the flimsy so-called door of the fuckroom. “Captain?”
“What?” Varik barked at Karnek. The escort shifted, putting their back to Varik.
“Ship’s ready.”
Varik hopped off the soiled mattress and yanked back the thin partition. “Repainted too?”
Karnek grunted. “New title, too.”
A spark of possibility arced through Varik. “What’d you name it?”
His man puffed up, exactly why Varik had let him name the ship. That and he didn’t care what the name was since the only name that mattered was The Treasure.
“Cain’s Alibi.”
“Excellent,” Varik said, barely registering the new moniker. “What did the new title cost?”
Even braced for Karnek’s answer, the number punched Varik in the gut. That cut a sizable chunk out of the funds Auvi had left him. “Are we fueled up?”
“Doing it now.” Karnek tilted his head, clearly trying to see into the room.
Varik filled the open gap. It was none of Karnek’s business who Varik poked in his spare time. “Let me put on some clothes and we can go.”
“Sure we can’t invite that one with us?” Karnek jutted his chin toward the room. “They’d please everyone based on what I heard.”
Oh sure, invite the toy but tire of playing with it. Then Varik would have to be the one to shoot the fucker out the airlock.
“Over rated. We’ll find new toys on the next stop.”
“Good idea, Captain.” Pointed yellow teeth filled the gap between Karnek’s lips in what was probably meant to be a smile but only left Varik with a slightly sick feeling.
Before Varik could close the panel, Karnek turned back. “Where we headed next, Captain?”
“Cassan, to secure more crew. Then we go in search of TheTreasure.”
Karnek’s cackling laugh faded as he stomped down the hallway.
Blaize dragged her hand across her neck under her tied-up hair. A bead of sweat trailed from her forehead down the side of her face. The engine room wasn’t overly hot, but she’d been on edge since leaving Kolben. There was nothing she could pinpoint. After a perfect take-off, their fuel-burn rate was within normal parameters. She’d checked every system report twice, personally inspected every manual gauge, and had crawled through every crevice of the heart of the ship she could reach. Nothing was wrong.
Except for the itchy sensation that wouldn’t leave her alone. The dread that something was about to blow. Maybe it was her reaction to Dez removing a bomb from the outside of her engine and losing his hand. Maybe it was the sensation that someone or something hadn’t stopped watching her. The eerie foreboding had hit somewhere in the cargo bay and hadn’t left her since.
It was probably too quiet. “I think I’ll check out the stats on the rotating detonator. You know, it’s quite odd the way it’s designed on The Treasure.” She wasn’t speaking to anyone but the sound of her voice calmed her. “Emotional energy is transferred from the bridge apparatus though the converter, concentrated, and burst delivered right to the rotator, causing the spin needed to create the detonation. The RoDRE is technically pretty antiquated technology, but whoever originally designed The Treasure was brilliant. The fuel savings is astronomical. Never having to burn fuel to punch out of atmosphere is huge, especially with a ship this large. I’m kind of impressed Cyra could pull it off without Dez working her to climax on the bridge. I could die without seeing that. I mean Dez and the captain are beautiful together, his dark striped skin and hers—deep blue nearly purple—with her striking green hair, I mean who wouldn’t want to see them together. But not like that. I wouldn’t be able to unsee his dick. I mean I like dicks, but his dick is taken.”
Was that a snort? Did her engine snort? No way. Engines didn’t breath. Not like that.
Blaize spun around, searching for the source of the sound.
“Who’s there? Show yourself.”
Cifer clenched his hands into fists and bit his lip. Gods, she was phenomenal. That blazing red hair, nearly translucent skin, the lushest mouth he’d ever have the pleasure to kiss. Because he would absolutely kiss this brilliant, sexy woman before he made his way off the ship. But he couldn’t show himself. Not yet. Not until they reached the station. If he did, he’d be out an airlock before he could finish selling an explanation.
If only he could find a way to keep her talking. He pressed himself into the wall panel letting his natural camouflage do the work of keeping his presence a secret. No more laughing. No matter how entertaining she was. He had work to do and getting off Kolben had only been the first step. There was no room for error. Remorse and regret washed through him. He’d let himself get stranded on that ice ball and who could say what disasters awaited him on Cassan.