Chapter 7 #2
He turned, only to come up short when he caught sight of Alred’s grinning face. He looked smug. And it was all the more irritating for being a new expression on his formerly featureless face.
“What?” He asked, eyes narrowing.
“Your mating instincts are making you more grumpy than usual.”
Vytln snarled. “It’s just an instinct. It doesn’t mean anything. I can ignore it.”
“Perhaps. But for how long?”
Vytln snarled, swiping his fist through Alred’s light form. He couldn’t touch it, of course, but Alred had it burst apart in a shower of sparks as he laughed overhead.
Vytln ignored him as he stalked through the halls. He was going back to his room. A place he very rarely went. Even when it was time to sleep, he was much more inclined to nod off in his workroom. He ate there, he worked there, he had no reason to leave.
Except he did now. A pest that he couldn’t stop thinking about.
Couldn’t stop desiring. His cocks were getting hard, just remembering her.
The twin appendages tucked neatly into his body were traitors to him.
They were trying to extend, even now, and only a flex of his abdomen kept them laid properly in their beds where they belonged.
Vytln wasn’t like Sway who hadn’t touched anyone since Rik-Vane, and barely touched anyone while he was there.
He wasn’t like Trove, who never saw a brothel he didn’t want to rule like a king.
But he was somewhere between them. He sought out willing females to trade pleasures when the urge hit.
His heart never became involved. Physical pleasures were only meant to be traded between mates for his people, but he didn’t care.
He didn’t intend to have a mate anymore.
Not after what happened to the last female he caught.
He was content with fucking faceless, nameless females who made him pay for the privilege before they both went their own ways.
He got what he needed, when he needed it, and never wanted anything else. His body acting so far out of his control was completely inexcusable.
The door to his room slid open and he walked inside, already grabbing his shirt and yanking it over his head, fully intending to take a shower-
-only to come up short when he saw the familiar walls of his workroom instead.
How…?
Vytln looked around, baffled at how he found himself in here. He’d been going to his room. He fully intended on going to his room. How had he somehow managed to walk here instead?
The answer to the question poked her head up in the window of his trap, resting her hands on the edge and smiling at him.
His instincts had guided him right back here fully against his will.
“Welcoming back!” She greeted happily.
He hated the zing of excitement that rushed through him. Both at the sight of her and the happy way she welcomed him like he was returning home at the end of the day.
“Did you having fun?” She cocked her head, and it was so adorable, he was actually distracted. For just a moment.
Then, his irritation came rushing back and he tossed his shirt away, not wanting to put it back on now that it was dusted with nutrition powder. He walked across to one of his storage bins where he kept his spare clothes to grab a new one instead.
“Can I getting into out now?”
“No,” he said, snatching a clean shirt before turning and pointing at her. “That was one time. I’m not doing it again.”
She pouted. Her bottom lip poked out as she plopped her chin on her fingers. “Aw, why? I was helping.”
He growled, frustrated, as he yanked his shirt on. “You are not supposed to be helping. You are supposed to be a prisoner. Act like one.”
“Oh, no-o-o,” she sighed dramatically, holding her hands out the window, wrists together like she was waiting to be manacled. “So very much scaring. Will being behave. Oh! How about I working in punishment?”
He grumbled, rubbing his temples. “That’s clearly not a punishment for you.”
“No-o-o,” she said again, drawing it out once more, but this time with a very serious and stern set to her face. “Is very punishing. Hm. Yes. Much regretting I have for breaking in here. Would only being right to making me working for my meals.”
She wasn’t wrong. Making a prisoner do simple labor wasn’t all that uncommon, especially on starships where food was rationed between stations.
But the fact that she was suggesting it really didn’t make it seem like the forced labor it was supposed to be!
“I don’t understand you,” he said, getting closer to his trap.
She pulled her hands back inside, resting them on the edge as she smiled up at him. “What’s to understanding? I like fixing. Ship is being broken. I fixing.”
“No, I fix it. That’s my job.”
“Psh,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “With that wiring? Lucky is you that haven’t crashing already.”
“My wiring is fine!”
“Trash.”
“You little-” He leveled a finger at her, but only managed a few wordless growls of outrage as he fought between cursing at her in Standard or cursing at her in his native tongue.
She bit at him. Teeth snapping at the air like the little pest she was, attempting to reach out and bite the finger he had pointing her way.
“You know I am a killer, don’t you?” He snarled, glaring at her.
She shrugged. That vekting shrug again! So careless! So meaningless!
“You not killing me,” she said simply, letting one arm dangle out of the hole. “Won’t killing me either. You are good.”
Vytln reared back, insulted.
Good? Good?! No one had ever accused him of being good in his life. The compliment struck him like ice water lashing across his skin.
And Haven laughed at the expression that must be on his face. Completely unafraid. Knowing he wasn’t going to hurt her.
And despite the mockery, despite the fact that she was a pest, a stowaway, a nuisance, a prisoner…
She was right.