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I still felt like I’d been trampled by a horde of Hardanian war-pigs, but I wanted to look at this man’s face because try as I might, I could not remember what he looked like.

“I’m turning over,” I said. “Give me some room.”

The entire bunk moved when he scooted away from me. I sensed he was much larger than me, and when I carefully rolled to my back, I found I was right.

Kerian Nos, my stowaway and apparent savior, sat with his back against the bulkhead, with one knee raised and the other leg folded. Even sitting, I could tell he dwarfed me by more than half a meter.

I immediately recognized him as a Fortusian, a race of humanoids who enhanced themselves through genetic engineering and manipulation, utilizing biological material from species across the known galaxy.

Like most Fortusians, Kerian’s astonishingly beautiful body appeared almost entirely human, but his dark blue skin had green patterns that reminded me of leaves. Thick, dark hair with streaks of blue and green hung just below his ears. Lavender antennae, about twenty-five centimeters in length, sprouted from each side of the crown of his head. They twitched and swiveled, one toward me and the other in various directions, maybe scenting the air and listening for sounds aboard the ship.

He had folded his exquisite, brightly colored, moth-like wings behind his back. Their colors and patterns captivated me.

I must have taken quite a hit to the head to knock my memory of this man from my brain. The only impressions of him I’d had until this moment were suspicion and the desire to kill him for stowing away aboard my ship.

But then he’d gotten me to safety, saved my life, and watched over me until I woke. He hadn’t had to do any of those things. It would have been easy enough to claim he couldn’t save me. The damage to the ship, his stasis pod, and Mechabot’s records would back up his story about the disaster. I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d had some other reason to keep me alive. What it might be, I had no idea, given I’d really done my best to kill him.

He’d apparently improvised clothing for himself using a coverall he must have found in the medical bay. I felt a little disappointed by the fact he was clothed and then wondered what in the hells was wrong with me.

The jumpsuit was designed to adapt to a wide range of body types, but his size strained its fabric. He’d had to tear off the sleeves to accommodate his long, muscular arms, and cut open the back for his wings. I couldn’t help but notice those details—along with the way the jumpsuit hugged the area of his groin in a way that implied what was under the fabric was proportionate to the rest of him.

Well, of course I’m curious about his body, I reasoned.Nothing wrong with that. I’d only met a few Fortusians and each was entirely unique. Genetic engineering created infinite possibilities. I didn’t know the source of the genes that created his wings and antennae and whatever other enhancements he had, but he was a magnificent male.

“I’m sorry for staring,” I said, though I wasn’t. And why I felt compelled to be polite to a strange stowaway was as much of a mystery as his presence on my ship.

“You are not sorry.” His mouth turned up at the corners in a wry smile. “And no apology is necessary. I’m used to stares—though few are as admiring as yours. I usually evoke disgust.”

“I wasn’t admiring,” I retorted, while wondering who in any galaxy would look at him with disgust. “I’ve just never seen someone with your particular modifications. It’s scientific curiosity, nothing more.”

He regarded me. “I suppose it’s not in my best interest to tell you this, but I can smell lies and deception.” He pointed to his antennae. “My senses are all very acute.”

Well, shit. If he could smell a lie, he could probably also smell that the sight of his body had elicited a definite reaction in some very personal places.

I had been in space for a long time. I certainly had ways of providing my own pleasure, but no species, no matter how technologically advanced, had come up with a substitute as good as the real thing.

Now both of his antennae swiveled in my direction.

Damn it, damn it, damn it to all the hells, I thought.

I tried to think about cold water, Raxian basketmaking, and even the leaky plasma conduit that had probably ruptured during the accident and taken out the ship’s life support system, but for every non-sexual thought I managed to have, two more thoughts and images of him invaded my brain. I knew I shouldn’t have waited so long for my ship’s drydock repairs. Now bothNebulaand I were desperately in need of attention.

More to the point, the fact he didn’t leave me to die in the cargo hold stirred something in my heart—something I’d never expected to feel. A kind of camaraderie, or kinship, at least, brought on by barely surviving one of the many calamities that lurked in space.

Add to that the way he smiled at me, as if he knew exactly what I had on my mind, and I could no longer think of anything but how warm and strong he looked and how much I wanted to see everything under that jumpsuit.

Stop it, I lectured myself.You’re just lonely and horny from being in space too long. You don’t owe this man a damn thing.

Except Ididowe him something. Not sex, because that wasn’t a commodity I traded, but I did owe him a debt. He’d saved my life. Maybe because he needed me alive when the ship arrived at the colony, and maybe because he didn’t want to spend the next few days alone. Whatever his motivation, I owed him a ride to Ymar II. After that, he was on his own.

Only then did I realize how tired he appeared. I’d been so caught up in admiring him and thinking dirty thoughts that I hadn’t spotted the slump of his shoulders or the dullness in his eyes. He’d barely woken from stasis when disaster struck, and he’d spent the hours since ensuring I didn’t die.

As my adrenaline wore off, exhaustion swept over me too. Healing and blood loss had sapped my strength. I might not be bleeding everywhere anymore, but I’d still taken a beating.

Neither of us were in any shape to do anything about whatever this was stirring between us. Not right now, anyway. Later, once we’d slept off our exhaustion, I’d let myself think more about how it would feel to have Kerian on top of me—or under me. I was willing to bet it would feel pretty damn good.

“We should sleep.” I rolled to my side to face him and tucked my bent arm under my pillow. “You look like you’re about to pass out sitting up.”

“I was made to not need rest very often.”