Page 15 of Naughty List Delivery
“I’m seeing this through,” I tell them, and I mean it in ways that have nothing to do with Christmas deliveries.
“Noomi,” PIP announces cheerfully, “docking sequence complete, packages secured, and might I add that the ambient temperature in here has risen another degree in the last two minutes. At this rate, you’ll need to adjust the environmental controls soon. Also, just a heads up—the cargo bay is now quite cramped with all those packages. Lots of opportunities for... accidental contact.”
“Not now, PIP,” Nova mutters, but there’s color in her cheeks that has nothing to do with the ship’s lighting and everything to do with the same awareness that’s making my skin feel like it’s on fire.
“Also, for your planning purposes, the fold-out bunk in your quarters is approximately sixty centimeters wide. Just thought you should know!”
I bite back a growl. “Does your AI always provide running commentary on—”
“Always,” Nova says firmly, but I catch the way her scent spikes with something that might be anticipation. “PIP’s observations are... comprehensive.”
“I prefer ‘thorough,’” PIP corrects. “And speaking of thorough, you might want to examine those packages sooner rather than later. My scans indicate some of the quantum seals are showing stress fractures from the hasty transfer.”
Nova’s face goes pale, and the scent of her fear cuts through everything else. “How bad?”
“Nothing immediately dangerous, but I’d recommend a visual inspection. Some of the more delicate items might have shifted during transport.”
She’s moving toward the cargo bay before PIP finishes speaking, and I follow, trying not to notice how the ship’s narrow corridors force us into constant proximity. Trying not to think about how her body heat seems to seek mine across the small spaces between us. Trying not to remember what it felt like when she’d deliberately crowd against me in tight spaces, using the ship’s architecture as an excuse to touch.
The cargo bay is indeed cramped, packed with containers I stole from her and packages she’d managed to keep. Everything is carefully secured, but I can see what PIP meant about stress fractures—hairline cracks in the quantum sealing that could destabilize if jostled too hard.
“These three,” Nova says, crouching beside a set of containers marked with priority shipping codes. The position puts her at eye level with my hips, and I have to fight not to think about all the times she’d knelt in front of me for very different reasons. “The Hendricks family delivery. If the internal padding shifted...”
She’s reaching for the manual release when the ship lurches violently to port, artificial gravity wavering as the engines struggle to compensate. Emergency lighting flashes red, and I hear PIP’s voice announce: “Krax’s ships have achieved weapons lock. Suggest immediate evasive action.”
Nova’s thrown off balance by the sudden movement, and I catch her before she can hit the deck, my hands spanning her waist as I pull her back against my chest. For three heartbeats we stay frozen like that—her soft curves pressed against me, her scent filling my lungs, my hands remembering exactly how she fits against me. Her pulse hammers against my enhanced hearing, and the scent of her arousal spikes sharp and sweet in the confined space.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur against her hair, and feel the way she shivers in response.
Then one of the damaged containers breaks free from its restraints entirely.
I twist, keeping her shielded with my body as quantum-sealed packages scatter across the cargo bay floor. Most stay intact, but one—marked with Hendricks family codes—cracks open like an egg, spilling its contents across the deck.
A child’s teddy bear. Hand-knitted clothes. A data pad with family photos. And tumbling free from the bear’s embedded message system, a small holographic projector that activates automatically when it hits the floor.
A little girl’s face appears in the space between us—alien features with the distinctive cranial ridges of her species, but heartbreakingly young nonetheless. Her voice is bright with excitement and love, speaking in accented Standard:
“Hi Daddy! It’s Grixa! Mommy says this will reach you at the mining station for Christmas. I made you a scarf—see? It’s blue like your eyes! And I drew you a picture of our house so you remember what home looks like. The nights are getting longerhere, but Mommy says you’re coming home soon. I hope Santa finds you way out there in space. I’ve been extra good this year, I promise. I love you more than anything in the whole galaxy, Daddy. Please come home for Christmas.”
The message loops, the child’s voice echoing in the sudden silence of the cargo bay. Home for Christmas. Love more than anything. Please come home.
And I realize, with the kind of crushing certainty that caves in your chest and stops your breathing, that I’ve spent two years hunting down the woman I love so I could steal Christmas from a little girl who just wants her daddy to come home.
The teddy bear lies between us, soft and innocent and accusing, and I can smell Nova’s tears before I see them. Can feel the way her body trembles against mine—not with desire now, but with the weight of all the families I’ve hurt in my obsession to reclaim what I thought was mine.
What have I done?
5
Silent Night, Dangerous Flight
Noomi
TheelectromagneticstormsaroundKepler-7b writhe like silver serpents through space, beautiful and deadly as they twist between the mining platforms and automated freight haulers. On my console, proximity warnings flash in urgent red patterns that make my pulse spike with more than just professional concern.
Because Ober’s hands are on my ship’s controls, and watching him pilot the Wandering Star through impossible odds is doing things to my concentration that have nothing to do with navigation.
“Fifteen degrees starboard,” he murmurs, voice dropping to that command register that used to make me melt. His enhanced senses track the storm patterns with inhuman precision while his claws adjust the flight controls with surgical delicacy. “The electromagnetic field is shifting—there, do you see the gap?”
