Page 3 of Hijack! (Cosmic Connections Cruise #1)

The possible optimal combinations of bioelechemistry, corporeal configurations, genders and sexualities, and personal preferences that made up an IDA cruise passenger manifest was somewhat outside her mathematical expertise.

And maaaybe she didn’t really need to work on another brochure because this was just a temp posting on a test run and who knew what would happen after tonight?

But! She certainly wasn’t going to let one towering, glowering Kufzasin spaceship captain ruin this journey into three beautiful sunsets of incandescent love.

She reinforced the silent vow with a decisive nod—that loosened the last scrunchie holding her stylish-yet-professional bun.

The first clip had broken when she’d smacked her head on the upper shelf of the cooler while helping Ikaryo stock the bar in the Starlit Salon while she’d been reviewing the evening’s specials one last time.

She’d sacrificed the second clip when she’d found the froggy-looking Griiek cobbling together a last-minute repair to the hallway mood lighting.

The third clip… Well, she had no idea where it was, somewhere on the ship, presumably, but it hadn’t been in her hair when she’d taken a moment to freshen up and deep breathe before her pre-launch presentation in the command module.

Still, despite that minor flustering, she’d held everyone’s attention and gotten return smiles—or the extraterrestrial equivalents thereof—from everyone.

Everyone except Captain Nehivar.

Captain Never-Smiles. That was what she called him in her head along with other silent vows, deep breaths, and various unvoiced uncertainties she hadn’t yet quite managed to vanquish.

When she’d first interviewed for this flight, the crew manifest had been missing its captain and chief engineer.

After she got the position, she’d learned from Ikaryo, basically the only other front-of-house guest services staff on the crew, that it was odd to not have the command crew already assigned; many spacers wouldn’t sign to a ship until they knew the captain.

But this was just a short shakedown excursion, the inaugural launch of the Big Sky Intergalactic Dating Agency’s new Cosmic Connections Cruises.

With only essential staff and a small passenger list of IDA guests who’d won a seat in return for their testament, the three-sunset tour was her chance to show the boss— not Captain Never-Smiles, but the big boss, Mr. Evens—she was the right person for a permanent position.

Taking another deep breath, Felicity ducked into one of the many private alcoves hidden around the Love Boat I.

According to Griiek, the nooks were original to the schematics, although the purpose was unclear, but with the current incarnation as an alien speed-dating cruise ship, the alcoves would hopefully soon be filled with flirtatious murmurs and maybe promises of more.

Her deep breath turned into a wistful sigh. Not for herself. No, she hadn’t signed with the IDA for that . While she hadn’t found the right relationship on Earth, just being part of love across the universe would be so satisfying.

But before she met the first lucky guests, she had to smooth the frazzle.

She leaned over to reset her bun, awkwardly clamping the datpad under her elbow.

Of all the many wonders she’d encountered since leaving Earth, one of the biggest disappointments was discovering there was no astro-miracle cure for fine, straight hair. And with only one scrunchie left—

Against the sleek fabric of her uniform, the datpad slipped. With an eep of dismay, she fumbled, her fingertips skimming over the screen, folding herself in half as she tried to catch it…

In front of her nose, a huge, golden paw-hand snagged the datpad out of midair, claws sliding out to bracket the device. With his other paw, the captain levered her upright.

Oof, so strong, so unyielding. At least his hand around her arm wasn’t clawed…at the moment.

Was this how a fawn felt for its last moments in the jaws of a lion? Heart pounding, desperate to run, but utterly overcome.

He looked like an Art Nouveau painting of a lion—done by an alien who’d never seen an actual Earther feline.

His features were broad and bold, his wide cheeks and flattened nose barely softened by short, plush, golden fur and long, silvery whiskers that feathered back into the thick, darker gold mane of hair that flowed down his neck and over his shoulders.

His version of the IDA uniform had a wide, deep neckline to accommodate his mane, and no sleeves, revealing more of the luxurious fur that barely softened the heavy musculature of his arms.

But half hidden in the gold were darkened scars.

She’d overheard some hushed gossip about pirates, but since her guest-facing position as cruise director placed her in an awkward strata separate from both command and the line crew, mostly the whispers cut out when she was around.

And she couldn’t quite tell if the captain had run afoul of pirates…

or if he’d been one himself. Mr. Evens hadn’t offered any personal history when he’d introduced their Kufzasin leader.

And she certainly wasn’t going to ask Captain Never-Smiles how he’d lost an eye.

Hanging in his firm grip, she stared up into that remaining eye.

Like a cat’s, the pupil was a black slice through the golden hue that filled most of the orb.

At this unnervingly close distance, with him looming over her, she was mesmerized by flecks of color—red, purple, green—that gave his fierce gaze a shimmer she hadn’t really noticed before, like a thousand tiny gemstones.

She swallowed hard. “Um…” This hadn’t been on her checklist for the evening to-dos.

Oh, maybe there might be a secret page in the datpad, keyed only to her ident and two private codes, with some wildly inappropriate speculating, but only because her therapist back on Earth had told her that brain dumps were a good way to manage her anxiety.

Her brain had apparently abdicated all its responsibilities with no other ideas past “um”. If only she could handle her nerves like Captain Never-Smiles was handling her.

His pupil expanded, the blackness engulfing all the gemstones and gold.

He released his grip on her arm, but instead of moving back, he lifted his paw to her hair.

The blond strands had settled around her shoulders, just barely holding onto a hint of curl from the previous hours trapped in clips.

Slowly, he twined a fingertip into one falling spiral, lightly tugging it back so she raised her chin to relieve the slight pressure.

A shallow breath caught in her exposed throat. “Captain…” she whispered.

Abruptly, he straightened, not just looming over her but loooooming over her.

She hadn’t realized she always stood a bit away from him—they all did—to try to take the edge off the imposing size of him. But in this little alcove that wasn’t an option.

And he was blocking her in, all ridiculously broad shoulders and wide chest and thick thighs…

To repeat, ummm.

“Why are you hiding here?” In the confined space, his low voice rumbled through her like thunder.

“I’m…” She shook her head, trying to jostle her scattered brain back into focus mode. “I wasn’t. Hiding. I just needed to…”

When she trailed off, he shoved the datpad into her hands. “You dropped this.”

She was all sorts of frazzled around him. And while he wasn’t her big boss, he was her immediate boss. Struggling to regain some composure, she announced, “I was on my way to the main hatch to greet our guests. I just…needed a moment.”

“To breathe? You do that often.”

She sucked in half a gasp before she could stop herself. Had he been watching her? And judging? “Is there something wrong with breathing? As far as I know, all species currently aboard have compatible respiratory needs.”

“It would be a bad match if they didn’t.”

He was micromanaging her breathing and questioning her professional fitness?

She hardly ever hyperventilated on company time.

Stung, she shot back, “I worked very hard to be ready for this cruise. I ate, slept, and, yes, breathed the IDA handbooks and algorithms to ensure every single being on this ship is a possible good match.”

“Not every being. Not me.”

Well. That was true enough. Who would date a big, hairy, grumpy alien captain who never smiled?

Before that thought could go anywhere else, he continued, “And your hair. Why is it down?” The words translated clearly, but something in his tone was rough, like a cat’s tongue on her skin. “I thought it was your way to keep it tied.”

What was this interrogation? Just because she’d had a clumsy slip? Clenching her hands on the datpad, she told herself not to frown. “Yes, I usually wear it up. But it’s not a rule, is it?”

“You should bind it again. When it is loose, it”—he flicked a clawed finger—“wafts.”

“I’m sorry. Wafts?”

“Your fragrance.”

Despite her effort not to react, her jaw cranked to one side. “I’m not wearing perfume.”

“You. You smell.”

She jolted back. Oh, he would definitely not find a good match on her watch! “That is not—”

“Let me.” He spun her around, deeper into the alcove.

Maybe she should’ve screamed or punched or whatever a fawn could do against a lion. But… Maybe there might’ve been something on that secret datpad page clutched in her suddenly weak grip that was perhaps not unlike this very moment.

Blocked by his big body, the enclosed space was dark and heated. Her breath came in helpless little sips as his paws…gathered up her hair. Her exposed nape prickled behind the scrape of his fingers, and her scalp tingled from the twist before the scrunchie settled in place.

Then, just as quickly and easily, he spun her back around.

His gold gaze narrowed, the black pupil just a vertical slit as he studied her hair, then tracked slowly down to her lips, which she realized were slightly parted in the shock of being lion-manhandled.

The moment hung suspended like the fairy lights strung along the otherwise shadowy corridors: a point of light in the gloom glimmering with…

with some promise too tiny to grasp but linked to another and another so she might find a way out of the darkness if she followed them.

Shakily, she inhaled, and though she knew the ship’s air was constantly refreshed, she swore the breathable gases had been replaced with the musky spice of his fur.

If he kissed her…

He rumbled out a sound, deep in his throat. “There.” Then he spun on his heel, as if he would just walk away.

Her shaky hand went to the back of her skull. Had she knocked herself completely senseless in the bar cooler and this was all a woozy fantasy? Under her fingers, the elastic was securely fixed, no strands loose or wafting. “Captain.” Her voice was just an outraged gasp.

He glanced back. “Yea?”

The odd, archaic inflection of his yeas and nays bemused her for a moment. Who was she kidding? It was his touch. “You can’t just— You shouldn’t…” She couldn’t find her words in any language.

He waited a beat. “But as you say, I am the captain. And aren’t you supposed to be ushering the IDA guests aboard?”

She stammered, half anxiety, half anger, all awkwardness. And even as she hustled past him, her face hot with…more confusion, she swore she heard him inhale, long and slow.

Oh god, this cruise had to leave now , before she did something really mortifying.

Like kiss the alien captain.