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I flicked my claws over the controls, starting the engines. The slicer lifted off the ground, causing Tasha to gasp and throw her arms tightly ’round my waist. I allowed myself one tiny moment to revel in her touch.

Then, we took off.

15

TASHA

Warden Tenn’s driving made me think of an Old-Earth phrase. “Like a bat out of hell.”

I didn’t believe in hell, and I’d never seen a bat, but there didn’t seem to be any comparison more apt than a crazed winged creature flying as fast as possible because it was being pursued by some great evil.

At first, it was terrifying. It was all I could to do hold on tight and not puke inside my helmet. The land was a blur beneath us. In dizzying contrast, the sky seemed not to move at all above.

But after the first few heart-stopping kilometres (or maybe dozens of kilometres, because holy Terra, who knew how fast this thing was going?) things began to subtly shift fromOh God I’m going to throw up and dietoOK maybe I’m just going to throw uptoThis is actually sort of fun.

Fun. I was havingfun. With the alien warden in charge of an entire province of convicted cowboy murderers.

Not something I had on my bingo card.

But there was no denying it. My cheeks ached from the smile splitting my face behind the helmet’s visor. The previous nauseain my stomach transformed into zippy little flips and flops that I actually felt echo in my clit. And because we were hovering, despite the chaotic speed, the ride was very smooth.

Warden Tenn’s back was hot and hard against my chest, and when I wasn’t scanning the horizon ahead, I was dazzled by the muscle-popping, vein-throbbing sight of his exposed forearms as he gripped the handlebars and steered the slicer with practised ease. Though I couldn’t see it, I was deliriously aware of his ass between my thighs. The only uncomfortable bit now was the small metal hook on the back of his belt that was digging into my belly. I considered that a small price to pay for the experience I was currently having.

Fun. Seriously. Who’d a thunk it?

We didn’t slow down until the sun began to set, becoming wide and orange as it sank through the sky. Warden Tenn steered us into a scraggly stand of trees, guided the slicer back down to the ground, then cut the engines.

“Stay here,” he said, dismounting.

“Alright,” I croaked, pretending to merely agree with him. As if my legs hadn’t gone to jelly about an hour ago and my chest wasn’t currently breathless with giddiness. My whole body trembled. If I tried to get off this thing now, I’d be on my ass faster than the warden could say “hindquarters.”

Warden Tenn took some time inspecting the area he’d chosen for our camp. When he seemed satisfied, he returned to the slicer and began taking things out of the storage compartment at the back.

“No sign of ardu holes or genka activity. This will do for tonight.” He dropped the bags on the ground, then pulled out what looked like a big bundle of leather wrapped around poles. While I tried to figure out how to get the helmet off with my noodle arms, Warden Tenn got to work assembling what I quickly came to realize was a tent.

One tent. As in, singular. The opposite of plural.

And definitely the opposite of what you’d need for two people.

If any situation had ever called for a plurality of tents, it was this one, damnit!

My exuberance from the ride was instantly doused like a flame under cold water. I could practically hear the hiss.

“Is that for you?” I called over once I’d gotten the helmet off.

“It’s for us,” he replied, grunting as he pulled the leather for the tent taut.

Us.

Together.

In the tent.

The singular tent.

“Um. That’s alright,” I stammered. “You don’t have to share with me.”

He stopped then to give me a look that told me very clearly he was questioning my sanity.