Chapter 2
“I don’t want to get up. I’m tired,” I mumbled.
The sheets were soft and fluffy—nothing like the stiff, industrial sheets the company had issued me. Those always smelled vaguely like wet dog. These smelled… nice. Suspiciously nice. I pulled them closer to my nose and inhaled. Why didn’t these smell like wet dog?
I rubbed the fluffy mounds against my face. They were like cotton candy—at least what I imagined cotton candy would feel like. Less sticky, probably.
My eyes shot open, and I sat bolt upright. A sharp explosion of pain ripped through my skull, and I collapsed back onto the silky pillow. Bursts of starlight danced behind my eyelids.
Great job, doctor. Really showed spatial awareness who’s boss.
The throbbing subsided, and I slowly opened one eye.
I was definitely not in my habitat.
The room—really more of a cell—had metal walls, no windows, and a heavily reinforced door. A single light panel buzzed overhead, carving deep shadows across the space.
Why wasn’t I on the habitat?
Think, woman—where are you?
I closed my eyes, dragging up the last thing I remembered—great, stupid Director Voss. Keep thinking. I definitely didn’t want him to be my last memory before… whatever this was.
The emergency beacon.
I had launched it. The company must have rescued me and then dropped me off at the universe’s worst vacation rental.
Or maybe I was dead? Some alien religions believed something like this was heaven.
No. No, that couldn’t be it.
I facepalmed.
Pirates.
I had been kidnapped. And just like that, everything came flooding back.
The alarms. The stupid flashing lights. The smug captain with an attitude.
The sweet medic telling me to breathe. The slightly—no, completely—obsessed science officer.
And, of course, the four-armed mountain of muscle that pulled me out of the collapsing habitat.
My evac suit—gone.
I lifted the covers and glanced down.
I screamed.
Somebody—or somebodies—had gotten a peek at my goodies without even buying me a single drink.
Not that I was a single-drink kind of gal.
Well, maybe I was after spending eleven and a half months alone with nothing but the basic broadcast networks in a tiny habitat on a tiny planet in the ass-end of the galaxy.
I mentally added that "sneak peek" to the list of things I needed to discuss with management, if pirates even had a management structure.
A loud clang echoed off the walls, and my cage—yes, cage—door slid open.
A large, muscular, dark-haired, man-shaped alien stepped inside.
I blinked twice, fighting the urge to stare.
A soft smile spread across his blue-skinned face, dimples appearing just above his chiseled jaw and below his light hazel eyes.
He tucked a strand of jet-black hair behind his ear and lifted both hands in a calming gesture.
I became suddenly, painfully aware of my own appearance—copper hair loose and tangled across the pillow, no makeup, probably pale as death, and wrapped in a sheet like some kind of distressed burrito—fantastic first impression.
"I come in peace, Doctor. How are you feeling?"
“Um… feelings. Things. Mostly things. How are you feeling?”
And the Oscar for best dialogue goes to me: a human being who absolutely does not know how to use her mouth and brain together.
He took a step forward. “You’ve been through a lot, and I’m not sure if you remember me. My name is Lyrin. May I check your vital signs?”
“Does that… involve you touching me?”
“In most cases, yes. But if you prefer, I can have the auto-doc do it. My primary concern is your well-being, and I know this”—he gestured to the room—“is a little overwhelming. I want to make sure you’re okay. Is that alright with you?”
"Yes—please. Touch me. You may," I said.
My brain had apparently permanently detached itself from my mouth.
"Before you do," I said, summoning what remained of my dignity, "I need to ask. My suit. My clothes. Who...?"
His expression softened. "The auto-doc removed your evac suit to treat your injuries. I was not present. No one was. I programmed it to preserve your privacy and alert me only when you were stable and covered." He paused. "I understand this is... unsettling. I would feel the same."
Something in my chest loosened. It wasn't quite trust—not yet—but it was the absence of a fear I hadn't realized I'd been holding.
"Thank you," I said. "For telling me."
"You deserved to know. Now—may I proceed?"
“Yes, please,” I said.
“As you request,” he replied, bowing his head slightly.
I, on the other hand, began thinking about sports, math, prime numbers—anything that might transform me back into a functional adult woman instead of a slobbering adolescent who had forgotten how to interact with men.
Lyrin reached down and gently lifted my arm. My stomach decided to pursue an advanced degree in lepidopterology as a thousand butterflies burst to life. They had been asleep for a long time, believe you me.
“Your pulse is elevated. That could be cause for concern.”
“It’s probably just… all the excitement,” I managed, every ounce of willpower funneled into keeping my voice steady. Seventy-five percent controlled, give or take.
He nodded. “Understandable. Vaelix mentioned you had a degree in xenobiology.”
“Who is Vaelix?”
“Ah—yes. Sorry. I forgot you don’t know us yet. He is our science officer. The one who convinced the Captain to save you.”
“Is he the guy who was slightly obsessed with my analytical transmissions?”
“Indeed. But being a medic myself, I am also somewhat of a xenobiologist. What is your favorite area of study?” he asked, his bicep flexing as he turned my hand over.
“Arms,” I blurted, immediately wishing for a personal rewind button.
“Arms,” he repeated, locking eyes with me. “An interesting choice, considering so many species don’t actually have those.”
“Which is why it’s such a… uh… fascination for me. The rarer something is, the more interest I have in it.”
“That makes sense,” he said with a soft smile. “I suppose I am more interested in the whole, not just the parts. For example, your physiology fascinates me. Human cardiac signatures are… expressive. In that vein, would you please turn around so I can check your lungs?”
“Of course,” I said, shifting and dragging the sheets closer to my chest.
“I’ll do my best to warm my hands, but this may be cold. I apologize for any discomfort.”
“I think I’ll be okay.”
A warm spot bloomed between my shoulder blades. I inhaled sharply, goose pimples cascading across my back.
“Your heart rate spiked again. Are you okay?”
“I’m perfect. I just… haven’t been touched by anyone else in a long time.”
The warm spot vanished, and I leaned back reflexively, seeking it.
“I am so sorry,” Lyrin said. “I did not mean to stress you.”
“No, no! No stress—at least not the bad kind. It’s… completely fine. You may finger—touch. Touch my back.”
“Are you sure? I will only proceed with your full consent.”
“I consent!”
I tried to hide the eagerness in my voice. I failed.
“Very well.”
The warm spot bloomed again, and I sighed before slapping my hand over my mouth.
Either he didn’t notice, or he was polite enough not to mention it.
He touched several points along my back, traveling lower until he reached just above my tailbone.
My lower back arched on instinct. I swear I tried to stop it.
“Why were you out there alone?” he asked.
“Budgetary constraints. Why send two people when you can get away with paying for one?”
“I’m very sorry to hear that. Did you like your job?”
“I liked… getting paid.”
“Were you good at what you did?”
“I was good enough to get hired,” I said. “Not good enough to get promoted. Or get any good assignments.”
He placed a hand on my shoulder. “Well, whatever your past was, it does not decide who you are or what happens next. You are safe here.”
I took a deep breath. I wanted to believe him. But he was still a pirate.
“Sounds like something a pirate would say.”
“You keep calling us that,” he said, “but I don’t know that word. What is a pirate?”
“You know—someone who steals things that aren’t theirs. Plunders. Kidnaps women. All of that.”
“Ah. Yes. We are not that.”
“Still sounds like something a pirate would say.”
He let out a deep, rich laugh. “The Captain will want to speak with you. Do you feel up to that?”
I gestured to the sheet pinned against my chest. “Do I, by any chance, get to wear clothes?”
The blue of his skin flushed deep purple. “Of course. My apologies. Let me get you a jumpsuit. Then you meet the Captain and the rest of the crew.”
He bounded out of the room, and I looked around with fresh eyes.
The door hadn't been locked—he'd walked right out without touching a panel or entering a code.
The sheets I'd been clutching weren't standard-issue anything; they were soft, intentional, chosen.
The single light panel overhead wasn't interrogation-bright but dim, almost comfortable.
Not a cell. A room. Maybe even a guest room.
He returned moments later with a pristine white jumpsuit.
“It’s been tailored to your measurements. I need to head back to the medical bay, but Kaedren will be waiting to escort you to the bridge.”
“I appreciate everything you have done for me,” I said, then I waited for him to close the door before getting up.
This man was dangerous—not because he was a pirate, or a not-pirate—but because I was already starting to trust him.
I opened the door and stepped out—and straight into a world I wasn’t remotely prepared for.