Page 19 of Trak
He approached her from behind, dropping a kiss on the side of her neck. She leaned back against him with a sigh, sending silken red hair swishing over his skin. Her body immediately softened beneath his touch. It was almost instant—the shift of her body from tense to pliable. He nipped the sensitive skin beneath her ear and smiled at the tiny gasp she let out. It was a bit amazing that he could do this to her.
She turned in his arms. Those long, silky arms wound around his neck. Long, capable fingers slid into his hair and angled his mouth down to hers. He closed his eyes on a groan and gave himself to the kiss. His cock went rock hard. His mind inventoried the available surfaces to get Anna naked on. This wasn’t the ideal place for a tryst, but he could make it work. Trak was nothing if not adaptable.
He bent her over a console—it belonged to Pizol, his first officer who thought he was an expert on females but sadly, was not. Trak found a certain amusement in that.
Noise sounded from a lower deck. Anna heard it too. They pulled their lips apart and froze.
“What’s that?” asked Anna.
The noise turned distinct. Footsteps, heavy ones, accompanied by low, guttural noises, vibrated through the metal floors.
“Someone who shouldn’t be here,” he muttered back.
“You’re a prince,” she whispered. “Don’t you have security?”
“Of course.” Moving with purpose, they snuck through the narrow corridors. “It’s just…sometimes unreliable.”
“I’m wearing five pounds of gold chain and you can’t afford reliable security?”
He flung out an arm and flattened them both against the wall as the footsteps approached. “They seemed fine,” he hissed. Trak carefully opened a storage compartment and eased a small plasma pistol from it. There wasn’t much power left in it—maybe enough for one shot. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to use it. He jerked his head toward the sounds of intruders. “C’mon. Let’s greet our guests.”
He saw the flash in her eyes and her bottom lip clamped between her teeth. The female wasn’t scared at all. She either trusted him or thought this was a big game. Neither was a great way to go.
Anna stayed behind him as they quietly moved through corridors that he knew so well he could traverse them in his sleep. He peeked around a corner to see four of the largest examples of the Belka-Tu alien race he’d ever seen. They were easily eight feet tall, had green, bumpy skin, and smelled like last cycle’s rubbish bin. They appeared to be going through storage ports and taking things out. Searching for something. He raised the gun and stepped out quietly.
“Can I help you, gentlemen?” he asked, then remembered he still had that damn English chip in his head.
Predictably, the Belka-Tus stopped and whipped their attention to him, but their expressions were blank. Trak cursed and dug through his hair, finally removing the chip. His mind slid back to the languages he knew. These beings were most likely to use one of the Standard Quadrant tongues, so he used the one spoken on the Bott-L2 station.
“What are you doing on my ship?” he asked. “And how quickly can you get off of it?”
One of them, an exceptionally hideous specimen, stepped forward and shook his shaggy head, sending a long, knotted beard swaying back and forth. Metal emblems rattled from a sash around his neck. This was their leader, clearly, and he did not appear friendly.
“I am Giru Limpa, and I am owed credits.”
Trak raised a brow. This Belka-Tu didn’t have the best command of the standard language of this quadrant, leading him to think this group had journeyed pretty far from their territory. “And who, precisely, owes you credits?” Trak felt Anna close behind him. She was a wise female, remaining silent and still and watchful. “I have never done business with you.”
“One of your kind—a Virilian pirate named Pella Rin owes me fifteen thousand credits,” snarled Giru Limpa. “I will get my payment.”
Trak sighed, but inwardly tensed. Pella Rinwasa pirate, as well as a straight-up moron. He had been censured numerous times by members of the high Virilian hierarchy, so Trak had no reason to doubt the Belka-Tu’s claim. The young, brash prince continuously made choices like this—making deals, taking off with the goods without paying. In addition to being a horrible business practice, it was an excellent way to get yourself killed. Or in this case, get completely unrelated people killed.
“Simple mistake,” said Trak lightly. “You have the wrong Virilian. I am not Pella Rin, but I would be happy to convey your message to him.”
Giru Limpa shook his shaggy head again, spraying spit while making a hissing sound. Behind him, he heard a “yuck” from Anna and controlled the grin that pulled at his cheeks.
“A debt owed from one is a debt owed from all. You will pay your countryman’s debt, Virilian, or I will carve it from your hide myself.”
That’s where Trak’s patience ended. “Sorry.” He aimed the plasma gun directly at Giru Limpa. “It don’t work that way, mate.”
One of the other Belka-Tus leaned over and whispered into his leader’s ear. Giru Limpa’s eyes went shrewd and sharp as they shifted from Trak to the female peeking out from behind him. “We will take the female,” he said. “And consider the debt settled.”
Eleven
Whatever they were talking about, it was tense and serious and involved the pointing of weapons at one another, so it shocked her when Trak suddenly burst out laughing.
Laughing. Maybe this was all a big joke.
The four enormous green creatures who reminded her of the Incredible Hulk werenotlaughing. In fact, they appeared insulted. Trak said something to them and fired his weapon. It emitted a spurt of blue that made an arch toward the foursome without reaching them. Trak whacked the gun against his other hand and muttered something that sounded like a curse. Then he tossed the gun to the corner, shrugged, and grinned.
