Page 7 of Salvaged By the Alien Pirate

Spacing? Seriously? My pulse jumps, sending another wave of alerts through my system. But I keep my expression locked down tight, running the same emotional suppression protocolsthat have kept me alive this long. Let them think I'm useful. Or dangerous. Preferably both.

A growl rips from his throat, deep and possessive, making the metal deck plates vibrate beneath my feet. The sound bypasses all my security protocols, awakening something primitive in my code that should have been deleted cycles ago. "Anyone who touches her answers to me. She stays."

"I really don't have time for this. Just take me to—" I execute what should be a perfect escape maneuver, ducking under his arm with the kind of precision that’s won me countless virtual sparring matches. I make it exactly two steps before his hand closes around my wrist, and every sensor in my body lights up like a system overload.

“Let. Go.” I grit out, trying to ignore how my skin burns where he touches me, my neural interface helpfully informing me that my temperature has risen by exactly 2.3 degrees at the point of contact.

“Never.” He tugs me closer, until my proximity alerts are screaming and my enhanced senses are drowning in his presence. “You’re mine now. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be.”

“I don’t even know your name!” My voice bounces off the containers, coming back to me distorted like corrupted audio files.

“Cirdox.” His free hand comes up to brush my cheek, calloused fingers leaving trails of fire that my sensory processors can’t seem to filter out. “Captain of the Void Reaver. And you are?”

“Leaving.” I twist my wrist sharply while pivoting on my back foot—a combat subroutine I’ve run successfully through a thousand simulations. The motion should send him stumbling, should give me the split second I need to execute my escapeprotocol. My muscles know this dance, have performed it flawlessly even against enhanced security systems.

But his grip holds firm, and before I can counter, my world tilts. He moves with lethal grace, using my own momentum against me. A sharp pivot, a controlled shift, and suddenly I’m pressed against the solid heat of his chest, my breath escaping in a startled gasp.

His wings snap forward, swallowing the dim emergency lights, cocooning us in a living shadow. The darkness isn’t empty—it hums with his presence, thick with heat and the steady, unyielding rhythm of his heartbeat against my spine. It shouldn’t be in sync with mine. It shouldn’t feel like my own pulse is matching his, a silent code running in perfect harmony.

Critical error. No one’s ever countered that move before. No one’s ever turned my own escape tactics against me with such effortless control. The realization sends a sharp jolt through my nervous system, my senses scrambling to recalibrate—even as every alert in my neural interface glitches under the sheer proximity of him. My body wants to fight, but something in my core hesitates, a flicker of hesitation I can’t afford.

I’m trapped. Not just by the strength of his grip or the dark press of his wings—but by something deeper. Something more dangerous. Because for the first time in years, my instincts aren’t screaming at me to run.

“Try again, mate.” His breath stirs my hair, carrying that scent that keeps crashing my systems—metal and ozone and something darker that reminds me of burned circuitry after a too-close hack.

“Not your mate.” But my voice lacks its usual encryption, all my defenses showing critical errors. Something about him bypasses every firewall I’ve ever built, makes me want to trust him despite all my careful programming. Which is exactly why I can’t. “And it’s Neon.”

“Neon.” He says my handle like he’s testing it for vulnerabilities, rolling it around in his mouth like he’s searching for exploits. His lips curl into a knowing smile that says he’s well aware it’s not my root access name, but he lets it slide. “Welcome aboard... for now. We both know you’re hiding more than just your designation, but we’ll get to that.”

A message flashes across my neural interface, burning through all my defensive protocols like a virus:

FOUND YOU, NEON VALKYRIE. NO SHIP CAN HIDE YOU FROM ME.

My blood runs cold, core temperature dropping by 1.7 degrees. The hacker. They’ve traced me here already. I try to respond, to trace the signal, but something’s blocking my connection, leaving static where my usual network access should be.

Cirdox’s arms tighten around me, wings closing in until my world narrows to just us and the darkness. A perfect trap I can’t quite bring myself to fight. “What is it?”

I look up at this dangerous alien who claims I’m his mate, and every alarm in my neural interface screams at me to move, to find an angle, an escape—something. But my tech, my flawless, cutting-edge enhancements, aren’t running threat assessments or exit strategies. No, they’re glitching, locking onto him like he’s the most important variable in the system.

The emergency lights cast jagged shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw, the wicked curve of his fangs. His wings flex, shifting the darkness around him like a living thing, their edges catching just enough light to make them gleam. My augmented vision, the same tech that’s saved my life more times than I can count, is failing me spectacularly—cataloging every inch of him with ruthless precision instead of mapping my best route off this ship.

The way his tribal markings pulse, glowing like living circuitry beneath bronze skin. The way his muscles shift with every slow, predatory movement. The raw power radiating off him, coiling through the air like a gravitational force I can’t break free from.

I force a system diagnostic, fingers twitching as the results scroll across my vision.Data corrupt. Unknown anomaly detected.The errors might as well be written in ancient Earth script for all the sense they make. This is top-tier black-market tech, paid for with three corporate heists and favors that nearly got me killed. It shouldn’t be failing. It definitely shouldn’t be hyper-fixating on the way his body heat presses against my skin, the way his wings move like they’re instinctively attuned to me.

My tech is betraying me. Black market tech. Never again. Though this feels different than that disaster upgrade from the Lower Rings. This isn’t just system failure—it’s like my entire neural architecture is being rewritten by something more ancient than code. My carefully constructed defenses are crumbling, and I can’t stop it.

I need to focus. Find a terminal. Get off this ship before—

My systems crash again, hard enough to make my vision blur. This isn’t random malfunction. Either my hardware is compromised, or something about him is wreaking havoc with my tech. Neither option improves my chances of survival.

I built these firewalls around my heart for a reason. The last person who got past them ended up dead, their consciousness scattered across the dataverse like digital ash. Kai’s final transmission still haunts my nightmares—the sound of his mind fragmenting as they tore him apart. That’s what happens when you trust the wrong access codes. When you let someone past your defenses.

I won’t make that mistake again. No matter how my tech glitches around Cirdox. No matter how his presence corrupts every survival protocol I’ve ever written.

“Take me to the bridge,” I say, fighting to keep my voice steady. “We need to talk.”

His smile is all predator, sharp teeth gleaming in the darkness of his wing-cocoon. “After you, mate.”

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