Authors: Robin L. Rotham
“It’s still different!” Monica said, shaking her head. “You’d just admitted to being Narthani. What was he supposed to do after all those millions of people were killed, present you with the key to the ship? And I still think he knew Shauss wouldn’t do anything too bad,” she added.
Jasmine crossed her arms. “Then you don’t know your father
or
Shauss.”
“My father is not a rapist!” Monica said hotly.
“I’m not saying he is, Monica,” Jasmine replied in a soothing tone. “But Garathani laws and customs are very different from ours, and it’s barely been ten years since their society went through a major upheaval. You know things get a little uncivilized when governments topple overnight and a new leader has to fight to get things under control.”
Monica blew out a breath. “I know.”
“And look at what they had to start from—basically government-sanctioned slavery, and
they
were the slaves.”
“Which is why I
know
he wouldn’t do that to Hastion.”
“And I tend to agree.” Jasmine sighed. “I just wish I knew why Hastion doesn’t seem happier about whatever happened.”
The three of them sat there looking at each other until Monica said, “I think we should just wait and see what happens. Let’s keep an eye on him, and if he’s not back to his usual cheerful self within a day or two, one of us should try to discreetly feel him out about it.”
“Shelley, I think it should be you,” Jasmine said quietly. “He seems like he’s kind of been avoiding me lately, and you’re not related to either one of them so you have no vested interest in the outcome of their relationship.”
Shelley nodded. “I’ll talk to him if I get the chance, but maybe you should talk to Tiber too, and find out if he can do a little subtle digging. He
is
the ship’s shrink.”
“I will.”
“They probably didn’t even have sex,” Monica said. “Maybe they were working out. Or maybe they were sparring and Hastion lost.”
Jasmine shook her head. “You know he doesn’t have that kind of ego.”
“It was sex,” Shelley assured them. “The minister works out in the Command training center, not his quarters.”
Monica raised her brows. “And how would you know that?”
“My quarters are on the Command Deck now, remember? I use the Command training center too.”
“You work out with my father?”
Shelley snorted. “Like I’d let any guy see me working out. I ran into him coming out of there after he’d just finished his workout.” All seven lean, sweaty, mostly naked feet of him.
“Oh my God, you’re drooling,” Monica said abruptly.
A painful blush threatened to blow the top off Shelley’s head. “I am not!”
“Oh yeah? So what was he wearing for this workout?”
“Oh, one of those suits they work out in or something. I really didn’t notice,” she said with an airy wave. Pushing back her chair, she stood up. “It’s probably time for me to get the kids up.”
As Jasmine giggled, Monica pointed at her. “Shelley, sit.”
“I have to go,” she said desperately, her whole body seared with embarrassment.
“Sit. Down.”
Oh hell, there was no getting out of this one.
Hastion followed Cecine into the living area with some trepidation. It had been three weeks since the minister used him so brutally, and while his body had recovered in short order, his mind and emotions were still deeply conflicted. He was ashamed of how much the minister’s forceful attentions had excited him—if it happened again, he might lose control, and while the prospect horrified him, part of him desperately longed for it.
Especially when he saw how much in love Shauss and Tiber were with each other, and with his sister. He was so unbearably lonely, he could hardly stand to spend time with them anymore—watching their affectionate ease with each other only emphasized how distant and impersonal his relationship with the minister remained.
There was some consolation in knowing he might eventually attain that sort of closeness with Shelley, but he couldn’t truly begin to work toward that until she was informed of the truth. It didn’t feel honorable to woo her under a cloud of deception.
Between his confusion over the minister, their ongoing deception of Shelley, his envy of his sister and his isolation from the rest of the crew, he was intolerably stressed. He felt like a carnival performer trying to juggle too many swords—sooner or later he was going to slip up and find himself impaled by one or more, or perhaps all of them.
“Sir, when are you going to inform Shelley of our mating?” he asked without ceremony.
Cecine turned to face him. “I’ve decided to extend the classified status of our bond indefinitely.”
Hastion frowned. “But why, sir? There’s clearly no danger of her trying to escape the ship now. Where would she go?”
“Not that it’s your place to question me,” Cecine said with a dark look, “but she’s already coming around on her own. She did come to Garathan of her own free will, after all, and her attraction to both of us is obvious. I believe she can be persuaded to agree to the bond without having to endure the trauma of being forced.”
“That’s entirely possible, sir, and I’d hope that eventually she would accept it eagerly. But we cannot keep the truth from her forever.”
“I disagree, and the decision is mine, Ensign.”
Hastion ground his teeth. “Yes, sir.”
He left the suite without another word and stalked down the corridor, seething with frustration so profound he wanted to scream with it. Perhaps he should try to talk to Tiber. Surely he understood the importance of trust in a bond, even if the minister didn’t.
His mood soured further when he reached the Command tranlift and found Ensign Mikal standing early guard duty.
“Hastion,” Mikal boomed with a nasty smile, not budging from in front of the door. “It’s been too long since I handed you your ass in the arena.”
Monica would say Mikal was simply talking out his ass, and generally Hastion let it blow past him like so much foul wind. The male was older than he by at least two decades and had the muscles to prove it, but between the ears, he was still an adolescent bully.
“If you say so,” Hastion replied in a bored tone.
“Shall we say three o’clock, in the baya arena?”
“I have late duty.”
“Tomorrow then.”
Hastion’s jaw tightened. “I’ll be there.”
Shelley flopped back into her chair with a groan and leaned forward, burying her face in her hands.
“Jasmine and I happen to know they all work out practically naked,” Monica said in a deceptively casual tone. “They wear this itsy-bitsy thing called a brief to keep their junk from giving them a black eye when they run.”
Even in the midst of extreme mortification, Shelley couldn’t hold back a snort of laughter. “They’re not
that
big,” she said into her palms.
“Don’t try to distract me. You have the hots for my father.”
“No, I— Gah!” Shelley let her head drop to the table and covered it with her hands. “It’s just that my hormones are driving me crazy right now, and when…” She bit her bottom lip, drowning in the memories of Hastion’s sculpted torso and free-swinging junk, and Cecine’s lickable, sweat-drenched body, and the delicious tension in the air between them that night.
“And when…?” Jasmine prompted.
Shelley finally looked up. “You know how it is. They’re both so ripped and gorgeous, and when I think about them together, it makes me…” She sighed. “It just really makes me wish I’d packed a vibrator and a two-year supply of batteries.”
“Sorry, we can’t relate to that,” Monica said deadpan.
Jasmine shook her head. “No, not at all.”
Then they both snickered.
Shelley frowned. “What’s so funny?”
“Um, Shauss and Tiber…?” Jasmine said with her brows raised.
“What about them?” Then Shelley gasped. “You mean they…?”
Jasmine nodded, her eyes sparkling. “Just about every day. And they are
so
hot.”
“They are.”
Shelley gaped at Monica. “How do you know?”
“I got to watch Shauss claim him,” she replied with a superior smirk.
Shelley let her head drop again and then banged it on the table a couple of times. “Oh my God, I hate you both.” She looked up again. “Wait, what about the commander and the cromag. Do they…?”
“Yeah, right,” Monica snorted. “Not in this lifetime.”
Jasmine giggled. “The commander and the cromag. It sounds like a romance title.”
“Try
bro
mance, and it ends with dorkily ever after,” Monica said, rolling her eyes. “Kellen and Zannen are so ridiculously straight they make the Washington Monument look bent. When the three of us are in bed together, they both act like the other has cooties. I touched their penises together once just to see what would happen and I swear to God, not three minutes later they were challenging each other to a death match in the sparring arena.”
She smiled ruefully as Jasmine and Shelley howled with laughter.
“Dorkily ever after,” Jasmine said, wiping her eyes. “Poor Monica.”
“Hey, it’s a lot of work keeping up with two sex machines by myself,” Monica declared. “Sometimes I wish they’d do each other just so I could read a book once in a while.”
Shelley sighed. “I still hate you.”
“Shelley, you’re on a ship that’s overrun with horny men, bound for a planet that’s overrun with even more horny men. Just grab a couple of them, for God’s sake!”
“No thank you,” she said with a decisive shake of her head. “I’ll just wait ’til I get home and hook up with some man I don’t need a stepladder to kiss.”
“You’re such a wienie.”
“Pansy. Get it right.”
“So what are you going to do for the next year without a vibrator and batteries?” Jasmine asked with a too-sunny smile.
Suddenly uncomfortable, Shelley said, “I’ve got two hands.”
Monica and Jasmine exchanged a long look and then grinned at her.
“Whatever you’re thinking, forget about it,” Shelley told them warily.
Monica’s grin widened. “It’s okay, we’ve got you covered.”
“No, Monica. Whatever it is, just…no.”
“Don’t worry, Shelley,” Jasmine said, her eyes sparkling. “You’ll love it, I promise.”
Chapter Nine
That evening, Wyatt was too fussy to sleep. Shelley had tried everything—changing his diaper, giving him a bottle, rubbing his tummy, putting drops on his gums, feeding him Tylenol, rocking him in the gliding rocker the minister had beamed up for her… Nothing worked. He was inconsolable.
Tara had offered to take him, but he’d screamed louder and refused to let go of Shelley’s hair. So here she was, two hours later, still walking and bouncing her sweaty, red-faced son, trying to get him calmed down enough to sleep.
Suddenly a thought occurred to her.
“Empran, could you play some music for me at a low volume?”
“Certainly. What music do you desire?”
“How about my love songs playlist?”
“Commencing music playback.”
“Thank you,” she said gratefully.
“You’re welcome.”
Immediately, the soft guitar intro to an old Ingrid Michaelson song began to seep into the room from every direction. Instead of walking and bouncing, Shelley swayed with him, singing softly in his ear.
Wyatt pulled back to stare at her with his little baby mouth hanging open, still clutching a damp handful of her hair.
“Why do you look so surprised?” she asked wryly. “I sing to you all the time. But I guess I don’t dance while I sing, do I? Trust me, it’s not as easy as it looks.”
She twirled in a circle and then dipped him, smiling as he giggled hysterically. It took twenty minutes of dancing and singing, but he finally conked out. When she laid him in his bed, he didn’t stir.
Sighing with relief, she checked to make sure Kallie was still sleeping soundly and then snuck back to her own room.
“Empran, you can turn off the music now,” she said as she took off her T-shirt and yoga pants and put them in the wardrobe.
“Playback terminated.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Monica ordered a gift delivered to you when you retired. May I deliver it now?”
Puzzled, Shelley said, “Sure.”
“Please hold out your hand with your palm facing up.”
Okay.
When she did as she was told, a shiny pearlescent ball the size of a large grapefruit appeared in her hand. It was so light she could hardly feel it, and it tingled slightly where it touched her palm.
Shelley tipped her head to the side. “What is it?”
“A masturbation probe.”
“Ew!” She snatched her hand back and the ball fell, only to dissolve into nothingness before it hit the pad.
“Shall I report to Monica that the probe is not to your liking?”