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“I’ll show you feisty,” I mumbled through the stretchy material as I jerked my shirt on, over my head. Maybe this time it would stay on.

Thrash spoke from the doorway. “I keep hoping.”

I smoothed my shirt into place, opened my mouth to respond, and froze with one arm in my jacket. Instead of the hot retort sizzling on my tongue, only a strangled squeak came out.

He’d turned his broad back toward me and headed for his quarters. Thanks to his innate ability to regulate his body temperature and withstand a climate control system on the fritz, I got an eyeful of broad shoulders, rippling muscles, and a tapered torso as he disappeared down the hall. TheEarth Sunrisesetting of the overhead lights set his glossy black scales ablaze and lent his dark hair a blueish hue. Lights turned on as he passed beneath, while the lights behind turned off to save energy.

When the final light illuminating his impressive form went dark, my lungs deflated on a huge rush of relief. Ever since Thrash unexpectedly joined the team several months ago, I had been trying—unsuccessfully—to beat my hormones into submission. His frequent attempts to score a date and more didn’t help. That guy had the smooth moves to back up his party-time pheromones. Worse, since this job was my swan song to terraforming, I hadn’t jumped into another’s bed or allowed anyone into mine since touching down on this planet.

To his credit, Thrash never used his intoxicating aroma to coerce. Even when a wovvel—an indigenous, ferret-like rodent that continued to find a way inside the habitat—ate his supply of scent-blocking compound and it took a full three days for the colony’s biochemist to engineer a new batch, Thrash had kept himself locked away in his quarters.

Unfortunately, by the end of the second day his pheromones had spread through the filtration system, resulting in the largest sex-party this side of the sixth moon.

Desperate to avoid an emotional landmine, I’d barely made it to my quarters on wobbly knees and locked myself inside. That night I’d rode my fingers so hard, I had to wear a wrist brace for a week.

Thrash had never asked how I’d hurt myself, but when he picked up extra shifts in my place until my brace came off, it was clear he knew, and he didn’t feel good about what he’d inadvertently done.

Dangerous. That strong, sweet man was dangerous, to my sex drive and to my heart.

chaptertwo

forced proximity

Back in my quarters,I quickly plaited my pink-tipped, platinum-blonde hair before undressing. Instantly, the cold drilled into my joints and an ache built in my temples. I rushed through the routine of applying an anti-atmosphere aerosol spray blended for the different levels, specific components, and toxins present on planet KR-732. The concoction countered any burning, blistering, itching, and eroding effects that might linger in the air. Chances were slim of running into a pocket of original atmosphere, but better safe than sorry.

Less than five minutes later I was thoroughly covered with the protective spray and clothed in my UFIS issued, spandex-like suit with its ridiculously impractical, decorative gold buttons. Despite the thin material, the uniform was designed to absorb and reflect body heat back into the skin as well as provide some protection from physical damage. A laser blast would burn a hole straight through, but claws, teeth, and regular blades would have a difficult time.

On my way out of the room, I reached for a cannister of company-issued repellent spray. After a brief pause, I also grabbed my weapon belt off the hook next to the door and settled it around my waist. The comfortable weight of the twin holsters for my precious plasma-edged daggers rested against my hips and outer thighs. The weapons were more than I would take on routine system check, but less than what I would bring into a raid. This outage didn’t fit the typical raider attack pattern, but there was always a first time for everything. No reason to be reckless.

A rectangular panel mounted on the wall outside of my quarters remained dark until I pressed my palm against the opaque glass. Green light flared, outlining my hand. The locking mechanismthunked. As much as I liked my fellow crew, I didn’t trust a bitch not to rifle through my shit. They’d steal my snack cakes, smuggled wine, and smut books that got me through these long, celibate months in a hot nanosecond.

I pressed a thumb to the center of the screen, and two more locks clicked into place, these on the top and bottom to prevent door removal. This wasn’t my first terraforming rodeo. I knew all the tricks.

Geared up and dressed, I hurried to the dining hub. The closer I drew, my nerves came alive, turning my insides jiggly. The upcoming job and forced proximity with Thrash would be difficult. The Phase Four clean up team was due in less than a week. Until today, I thought I’d skate to the end of this job without the risk of temptation, but outside the habitat, there would be no escape from being near Thrash. Even with his pheromone blockers, I wanted to rip off his clothes. Any other day I could retreat to my quarters and get myself off on fantasies of holding onto those horns while I rode him. Or the one where?—

Facing my direction, with his long, muscular legs stretched in front of him, Thrash looked up as I entered the room. Those delicious lips curled up at the corner, like he’d seen into my thoughts.

Oh shit, did he have that ability? My steps faltered. I covered the misstep by rearranging my holster belt. We locked eyes, and I shot him a scowl while I thought hard about shearing off the tip of his horns with my plasma dagger.

His expression remained the same. He didn’t twitch.

My chest loosened and shoulders relaxed. I should have known. Telepaths were exceptionally rare. They wouldn’t be wasted on a terraforming team. Though this was arguably the most vital part of the ETP, it was also the most dangerous, with the highest casualty rate. Another reason it was time for me to clock out for good.

“Come on, we need to get the crawler loaded and get to the cave.” I brushed past Thrash’s legs and headed for the hangar.

chapterthree

raiders in our midst

While Thrash guidedthe crawler toward our destination, I focused on our surroundings. Miles of lavender sand and newly sprouted trees with blond trunks and teal leaves pulsing with biofluorescence dotted the landscape. Beyond those rose the lumps and bumps of dark purple rocks that eventually led to a small mountain range and the cave which was our destination.

Everything appeared normal, but just because it seemed unlikely the climate control fault was due to raiders, that didn’t mean it couldn’t be. This sector of the planet was almost completely terraformed and habitable. The cleanup team was scheduled to arrive this week to initiate the transition to the final phase of the ETP. Guards would be placed around the equipment until the populate team arrived and permanent installments were erected.

Forty-five minutes into our trip, and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat for what had to be the hundredth time. After this morning’s hefty dose of sexy-time pheromones this situation was less than ideal. Thrash was big in both height and breadth. My damn shoulder hummed from where it made constant contact with that man. Trapped in this cockpit designed for two average-sized people—which he was not—and I was ready to wriggle out of my own skin to escape the tiny crawler cabin.

Retirement was on the horizon, so close I could see the circled date on my calendar. Only six days, four shifts left, and after today, none of them would be with Thrash.

The vehicle slowed. I peeled my gaze from the view and glanced at Thrash. His hair was pulled back and tied off at his nape, revealing the stress lines on his face. “What’s wrong?”