Page 30 of Naughty List Delivery
The words hit like a physical touch, and I have to fight not to pin her against the pod wall and show her exactly how predatory I’m feeling. The memory of how she responded to my dominance in our intimate moments, how she surrendered to my touch while maintaining her own fierce strength, makes my alien biology sing with possessive satisfaction.
“Sweetheart, the only thing that’s going to be difficult is not claiming you properly while we’re surrounded by enemies.”
Heat floods her cheeks at the possessive declaration, and her scent spikes with arousal so sharp I have to bite back a growl. “Ober...”
“I know.” I lean down until our foreheads touch, breathing in her scent and letting my alien warmth wrap around her like armor. “Professional courier. Reformed pirate. Save the claiming for after we save Christmas.”
“After we save Christmas,” she agrees, but her voice has gone rough with want, and the way she’s looking at me suggests theprofessional part of her brain is losing the battle with more primal instincts.
The first of Krax’s ships—a sleek interceptor bristling with weapons—slides alongside our pod with predatory grace. A boarding tube extends with mechanical precision, and I can feel Noomi’s pulse spike as the reality hits us. We’re about to walk into the hands of enemies who want us dead, with nothing but our wits and sixty minutes to save dozens of families.
“PIP,” I murmur, keeping my voice low as docking clamps engage with metallic thuds. “Can you maintain a connection to our ship’s systems? Monitor for incoming OOPS transmissions?”
“I can establish a passive monitoring link through the pod’s emergency beacon,” PIP responds, his voice dropping to match my whisper. “Any incoming rescue coordination will be relayed to you through your standard comm frequency. However, I should warn you—if they scan me, they’ll detect the monitoring capability.”
“Then we better make sure they don’t scan you too closely.” Noomi reaches for PIP’s portable core, sliding it into a hidden pocket in her courier jacket with practiced ease. “Emergency protocols allow couriers to carry their AI cores during ship abandonment. Standard procedure.”
“Clever girl,” I murmur, and catch the way her breathing quickens at the praise. Everything about her—the tactical thinking, the steady hands under pressure, the way she’s preparing to walk into hell itself to save innocent families—makes my alien instincts sing with possessive pride.
Mine. The thought pulses through me with primal certainty. Not just the physical claiming we shared, though the memory of her coming apart under my hands is burned into every nerve ending. But this—her courage, her determination, her absoluterefusal to let innocent people suffer because of choices she made in the past.
“Incoming transmission,” the pod’s speakers crackle to life with a voice like poisoned honey. “Attention, vessel in distress. Prepare for emergency boarding. Any resistance will be met with immediate spacing.”
Vex Korvain. I’d recognize that melodic, beautiful tone anywhere—like listening to a symphony while watching a massacre. Noomi stiffens against me, recognizing the threat in that voice even if she doesn’t know the speaker.
“That’s Vex,” I murmur against her ear, my breath stirring the hair at her temple and making her shiver. “Information broker, occasional pirate, and Krax’s right hand. He’s the one who’s been coordinating the intercepts.”
“The one who broke into OOPS communications?”
“Among other things.” My tail tightens around her leg, an unconscious claiming gesture that makes her pulse jump. “He’s dangerous, brilliant, and absolutely without conscience when it comes to completing a contract.”
“Wonderful.” But there’s steel in her voice, the same determination that made her face down corrupt corporate executives and territorial warlords during her courier runs. “Anything else I should know?”
“He’ll try to get in your head. Make you doubt everything—your choices, your mission, whether the families we’re trying to save are worth the risk.” I cup her face with both hands, making sure she’s looking directly into my eyes. “Don’t listen to him. Trust what you know to be true.”
“Which is?”
“That you’re the most magnificent woman in three sectors, and that every family counting on us to deliver Christmas miracles chose exactly the right courier.” My voice drops to thatrough register that makes her breath catch. “And that I’d rather die fighting beside you than live safely without you.”
Something flickers in her eyes—surprise, maybe recognition that I mean every word. The admission hangs between us, weighted with everything we’ve shared and everything we’re about to risk.
“Ober...”
The pod lurches as the boarding tube locks into place, artificial gravity wavering as the systems integrate. Emergency lighting flickers, painting everything in urgent red that makes the moment feel apocalyptic and intimate all at once.
“Time to go,” I murmur, but I don’t move. Can’t move when she’s looking at me like I might actually be worth the risk she’s taking.
“Partners,” she says quietly, like a vow.
“Partners,” I agree, and lean down to brush my lips against hers—soft, quick, but weighted with everything we can’t say out loud. The kiss tastes like hope and desperation and the possibility that some partnerships are worth any risk.
When we break apart, both breathing harder than we should be, her eyes are bright with resolve and something that looks dangerously like trust.
“Remember,” I whisper, my thumb tracing her cheekbone one last time. “Sixty minutes. We can do anything for sixty minutes.”
“Even fall deeper in love while saving the galaxy?” The words slip out before she can stop them, and heat floods her cheeks as she realizes what she’s said.
My answer is a growl that vibrates through my chest and straight into her bones. “Especially that.”
