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But she did not run. And she did not unlock the gods-damned door.

Instead, she watched me, the corner of her mouth turned up in something between a smirk and a wry smile. And then, to my absolute consternation, she applauded.

“Very scary,” she said, her tone mocking. “So very scary. Or it would be, if I hadn’t just dealt with an infestation of Muravii fang beetles last week.”

That was an insult of breathtaking proportions. Muravii fang beetles were five centimeters in length and their bites hurt less than a stubbed toe.

“Open. This. Door.” I spoke each word clearly, deliberately, every syllable dripping with the promise of death and suffering.

Utterly unfazed, she pointed to the glowing number next to my empty plates. “Payment due,” she said. “If you please. Local currency or outer rim credits.”

“No one imprisons me.” I took two slow steps forward. Not quickly enough for her to want to pull her weapon, but to close the distance between us and use my height to frighten her. “Least of all a lone human woman running a vermin-infested diner.”

“No one steals from me.” Her voice had changed to match my own in both coldness and anger. “Least of alla murdering raider who wears all black to hide the blood.”

My cocks twitched at her tone.

She had flipped a switch from soft and almost playful to tough and threatening and I would be damned if it did not make me hard.

Usually human women did not interest me. My unexpected desire, however, made me take note of her beauty. She appeared strong and curvy rather than pale and wiry, as many human women in the outer rim of the galaxy tended to be. Life aboard an outpost station might be less desperate than on a colonized planet, but she worked hard, as evidenced by the toned muscles in her arms and legs. Her sleeveless shirt and skintight pants, both standard attire for the outpost, showed off her strength, as well as a very fine, round ass.

Her hands curled into fists at her sides, ready to fight for what I owed.

The problem was, I could not pay, even if I wanted to.

My now-former copilot had robbed me of every last credit. The only money I carried was Raxian and I doubted she would accept it, even if I did not need it to pay for fuel to make it to a system where my former squad could not find me. Because if they tracked me down, I would die slowly, in agony, over weeks or months. Oryears. They did things to traitors that were beyond nightmares.

The longer I stayed locked in this diner, the more likely someone would spot my ship. I had forged its registration well enough to fool the outpost’s bored docking officer, but it would not stand up to real scrutiny. Any member of my former squad would recognize my ship on sight.

I was strong enough to rip the head off a Gandarian mule ox—and had done so, on two occasions—but I could not get through the airlock. The appropriately named Last Chance Diner had no windows to the corridor outside that I could attempt to break, and this was the only exit. Its door, walls, floor, and ceiling were designed to withstand a breach of the outpost’s outer hull, so I had no chance of getting through.

I could try to force the diner's owner to open the door. No doubt someone else in my position would have done exactly that, but I had lost my taste for violence. After my squad's raid on Genrus III, I had even signed my own death warrant by leaving in my ship while my comrades were distracted celebrating their ill-gotten gains among the colony's smoking ruins.

And most importantly, I would be gods-damned if I would tell this smirking, well-armed woman I had no money. Because I might own a secondhand shipandbe running from my squadandbe flat broke after my partner robbed me, but I still had my pride.

Perhaps this could go a different way. I had something else besides money to offer—something she might want.

A human woman living in a shithole outpost did not exactly have her choice of sources of pleasure, even if she was not all that particular. Iwasparticular about my bedmates, as any longtime raider with a host of enemies would be. If we could come to an agreement, however, I doubted finding pleasure between this beauty’s legs would prove difficult for me. Barely a hardship at all. I was hard already just thinking about bending her over a table or throwing her on the counter and spreading her legs as she screamed my name.

I lowered my neck ridges, opened my coat, and slid my hands into my pockets. Her gaze, still flinty and cold, scoured the prominent lines of my chest and abdominal muscles visible through my shirt and landed on the bulge below my belt. She licked her lips—a quick little dart of pink tongue that made my cocks throb.

Oh, yes. She washungry. I could sate that hunger…and then some.

I let myself smile for the first time in a very long time.

“Surely we can barter,” I said.

chapterthree

ariel

Barter?Is he serious?

“Does this look like a swap meet?” I demanded, forcing myself to look away from the rather impressive endowment promised by the bulge in his pants. I knew little of his kind—not even what planet his people came from, much less the size, form, or uses of their genitalia. And I had no business wondering about that right now anyway, when he’d tried to steal from me.

“I have bills to pay,” I added when he didn’t reply. “That food you ate costs me money. So does the water, the coffee, and the air in here. All of which you consumed in significant amounts while sitting at that counter trying to figure out how to get away without paying for any of it.” I came around the counter to face him, and to show him I wasn’t afraid. “Hand it over. And don’t forget the tip.”

Something about what I’d just said made him grin, which only made me more furious. “I will knock that smirk right off your ugly face,” I promised, my cheeks hot with anger. In truth, his face was far from ugly, but that seemed very much beside the point at this moment. I smacked the counter with my hand. “Money.Now.”