Page 5 of Naughty List Delivery
Christmas is in seventy hours. Families are counting on me.
And Ober Kraine is about to discover that the most dangerous thing in the galaxy isn’t a reformed pirate.
It’s a reformed pirate with something to prove.
2
Silent Night, Violent Night
Ober
Theredemergencylightingof the Shadowhawk’s bridge casts everything in the color of blood and war—fitting, considering the violence churning through my chest as I stare at the tactical display. Three-dimensional star charts rotate slowly in the holographic field, showing projected routes, fuel consumption rates, and the one piece of data that matters most: Nova’s likely trajectory.
Two years. Two years of chasing ghosts through every pirate haven and smuggler’s den in three sectors, drinking away the taste of her on my tongue, the phantom weight of her body against mine. Two years of waking up with my arms wrapped around empty air, my enhanced senses searching for a scent that was never there.
And now she’s alive. Breathing. Real. Close enough that her scent still lingers in my ship’s recycled air, making my tail lash with need I can’t suppress.
Mine. The thought pulses through me with primal certainty. She was mine for three years, and death—even fake death—doesn’t change that. Nothing changes that.
My fingers find the pendant at my throat, the crystal warm against my palm. Her matching pendant, the one that used to pulse in rhythm with her heartbeat when I’d press my mouth to her throat. It’s been burning against my skin since our encounter, responding to her proximity like a compass pointing toward magnetic north.
Toward home.
“Captain.” Kex’s gravelly voice cuts through my brooding. My first mate stands at the navigation console, his four eyes blinking in that unsettling Barovian sequence that usually amuses me. Today it just irritates. “The crew’s getting restless. We’ve got three profitable raids lined up in the Nexus Corridor, and you’re—”
“I’m what?” I turn, letting him see the predatory smile that’s made stronger beings than him wet themselves. “Chasing the most dangerous woman in three sectors? The woman who knew every one of our safe houses, every contact, every weakness?” My pupils dilate as the hunting instinct takes over. “Tell me, Kex—what do you think she could sell that information for?”
That shuts him up. Good. I don’t have time for mutiny, not when I’m this close to reclaiming what’s mine.
“I found her,” I continue, my voice dropping to the dangerous purr that makes smart people back away slowly. “I was on her ship. In her cargo bay. Close enough to touch.” The memory sends heat through my veins—the way she’d held herself, all defiant angles and hidden vulnerability. The way her pulse had jumped when I’d said her name. “The Nova I knew would have put a blade between my ribs by now. This corporate courier act? It’s a cover. Has to be.”
But even as I say it, doubt creeps in like poison. The woman I’d confronted had been different. Still beautiful enough to stop my heart, still dangerous enough to make my blood sing, but there’d been something else. A steadiness that hadn’t been there before. A purpose that looked almost... noble.
No. I shake off the thought. Nova was many things—brilliant, lethal, mine—but she wasn’t noble. She was a creature of shadow and starlight, built for taking what she wanted and damn the consequences.
The comm system cycles to another Christmas song—something ancient and melancholy about coming home. I should change it, but the melody drags me back to memories I can’t afford right now.
Our last Christmas together. Nova wrapped around me in our captain’s quarters, her skin silver in the starlight streaming through the viewport. The Altarian ice wine had made her gigglyand bold, tracing patterns on my chest with fingertips that left trails of fire.
“Make a wish,” she’d whispered against my throat, her lips finding that spot that made me purr deep enough to vibrate through the ship’s hull.
“I have everything I want,” I’d told her, meaning it. Her laugh, her warmth, the way she fit against me like she’d been crafted specifically for this purpose. My tail had wound around her waist possessively, and she’d arched into the touch with a soft moan that still echoes in my dreams.
“Liar. You always want more. It’s what makes you dangerous.” Her teeth had grazed my throat, just enough pressure to make my claws extend involuntarily. She’d known exactly what that did to me—how the combination of pain and pleasure made every Felaxian instinct scream mate.
“What I want,” I’d growled, rolling her beneath me so I could worship every inch of skin the starlight touched, “is forever with you. Every Christmas, every breath, every heartbeat.”
She’d gone still then, something shifting in her green eyes. “Forever’s a long time for people like us.”
“Not long enough.”
Three months later, she’d proven herself right. Forever had lasted exactly ninety-seven days.
“I’m going to the cargo bay,” I announce, my tail betraying my agitation with its restless movement. “I want to examine those packages.”
The Shadowhawk’s cargo bay feels different with Nova’s stolen goods secured in the center, like the air itself is charged with her presence. The containers are sleek, sophisticated, the kind of tech that suggests contents worth killing for. Military-grade shielding, quantum locks, priority codes that could buy a small planet.
I circle them like the predator I am, my enhanced senses cataloging every detail. The metal is cold under my clawed fingers, but there’s something else—traces of her scent clinging to the surfaces, jasmine and ozone and that underlying note of danger that used to drive me wild. She’d handled these personally. Carefully.
