Page 26 of My Alien Bughead (Supernova Casanovas #4)

Chapter 26

Lucía

Once again, a crowd gathers in the docks. Instead of burning with righteous anger, though, people are nervously clutching their improvised weapons and jumping at the slightest sound. Battle-hardened soldiers, we are not.

The Supernova is hovering above the station as a small shuttle slowly passes through the docking gate, smoothly landing on the nearest pad. I exchange a determined nod with Arnik. We have to convince the crew to help us, even if it means getting down on our knees and begging. Pride is a wonderful thing but it won’t keep anyone alive.

Everyone holds their breath as the shuttle door opens. Zarkan’s first to exit, sizing us up with an unreadable stare. His crew follows. There are four males in total, including a slender human who I know is the ship’s medic. The grumpy Zyderi female is missing, as well as the male I’ve been hoping to see the most. D’Aakh.

The silence from the crowd is absolute as we nervously wait for Zarkan to speak. Have they decided to help us or are they just back because they forgot their toothbrush or something?

“We’ll defend your station,” Zarkan says after a long pause. Tension eases as everyone sighs in relief. “However,” Zarkan continues, “it will be on our terms. We will be in charge of all of your defenses and we will command every single one of you,” his eyes roam over the crowd. “You will all do as we say. We will also want supplies and payment for our services. Not to mention your apologies. Your heartfelt apologies.”

Arnik’s voice trembles a little as he says, “If we survive, you can have anything you want. I’m not really authorized to make these kinds of deals, but I’m sure FrenCorp will pay whatever price you name.”

“They’d better,” the large red hybrid standing behind Zarkan growls. “Now, where are the bastards who attacked my mate and daughter? Because I’d like to have a little ‘chat’ with them.”

Zarkan turns and rests a hand on his chest. “Not now, Faelin. You can have your fun with them later. Right now, we have work to do. Start unloading the weapons. You!” he calls to a young Syndoran worker whose tiger-like stripes fade until almost non-existent from fright. “Show Nikolai the way to the infirmary. He’ll be helping your station doctor. You two!” he snaps, pointing at a couple of trembling miners, “Help my people unload the boxes from the shuttle.”

The males and females he just addressed immediately scurry off to carry out his orders.

Zarkan looks at the ore harvesters, before nodding appreciatively. “Good thinking. Do you have enough pilots for all of those?” At Arnik’s nod he continues, “Good. Gather them in a separate group to the side. Omni!”

An angelically beautiful Quintran with large wings and a sniper rifle looks our way. “Yes Captain?”

“Give the harvester pilots a rundown of our combat style and battle tactics. Make sure they don’t accidentally wander into our line of fire.”

“Yes, sir.”

Once Omni has taken his assigned group aside, Zarkan sizes up the remaining crowd. “Which of you have actually fired a rifle before?”

Our three peacekeepers raise their hands. The rest shuffle their feet, avoiding Zarkan’s eyes. When someone quietly asks if shooting in virtual reality counts, Zarkan heaves a sigh. “Gods help us. Tareq, Faelin! Basic combat lesson for these lot. Just teach them how to hold a rifle and how to shoot without killing themselves or the person standing next to them. I bet they’ll be the most attentive students you’ve ever had.”

Faelin glowers but doesn’t protest, offering Zarkan a quiet “yes, sir” before approaching the startled crowd. Tareq doesn’t seem much happier to be here but at least he doesn’t glare at the people with open hostility.

“Um, Captain?” I approach Zarkan, not sure if it’s a good idea to distract him now but I need to know if D’Aakh is alright. “Is D’Aakh…?”

“He’s alive.” Zarkan graces me with a sincere smile, a stark contrast to his glaring from before. “Thank you for saving his life, Lucía. He’s doing better now but he isn’t in any condition to join us.”

Raising my brows, I watch as a smaller, sleeker shuttle passes through the docking gate. I don’t need to see inside to guess who’s piloting it. “Are you sure about that?”

When Zarkan sees the shuttle, his curse is colorful, to say the least. I follow as he strides toward the second landing pad, arriving just as the shuttle door opens. D’Aakh stands in the doorway, leaning heavily against the frame and looking like he’s just been through an ore grinder. Twice.

“I ordered you to stay back on the ship,” Zarkan rumbles.

“Oh, did you? I must have misheard you.” D’Aakh’s grin turns into a grimace as he tries to exit the shuttle, trips over his own feet, then has to catch himself on the doorframe again. “Fuck,” he mutters, wincing as he drags his sorry ass out of the shuttle. “Well,” he says once he finally manages to keep his balance, “I’m here and I’m not going back.”

With his arms crossed in front of his chest, Zarkan continues to glare at D’Aakh. “Where did you get the rifle? We didn’t leave any in the armory.”

D’Aakh sighs and leans against the shuttle. “In my room.”

“Oh, really? What else did you get from your room?”

I’m confused by the question but D’Aakh seems to know immediately what Zarkan is referring to. His shoulders slump. “Nothing, Captain. I brought Z’Ree in with me and surrendered everything to her. There’s nothing left.”

Oh, they’re talking about the stimsticks.

When Zarkan doesn’t reply, hurt flashes through D’Aakh’s expression. “What, you want me to empty my pockets? I don’t know how else to convince you I’m not lying.”

I’m far from proficient in reading Lakhartan facial expressions—not that their scales allow them too many—but I get the feeling Zarkan is reliving his own bad memories. Memories which must be connected to drugs somehow. That’s why he’s so deeply affected by what D’Aakh did.

Was Zarkan a user? Or someone close to him? It’s not my place to ask and I don’t think his crew knows, either. He’s the kind of person who keeps even the people he cares deeply about at arm’s length.

Wanting to break the tension between them, I insert myself into the conversation, hoping I won’t get yelled at. “Actually, Captain, I could really use D’Aakh’s help with something.”

“He’s hardly in condition to be helping anyone,” Zarkan objects.

“He’d just be sitting in one of our workshops giving me instructions. Nothing physically taxing. I’ll keep an eye on him and make sure he stays out of trouble.”

Zarkan’s expression finally relaxes a little and he snorts, “I’d really like to see that. Fine, then. You want him, he’s yours. D’Aakh? You follow her orders to the letter, or I’ll kick your stupid ass. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” D’Aakh says, smothering a grin.

Zarkan storms away, muttering something about “idiots” and “being too old for this shit”. Once he’s out of hearing range, D’Aakh grins at me. “Well, ma’am? What are your orders?”

My frustratingly confusing feelings return with avengeance. The urge to punch D’Aakh warring with the equally intense desire to kiss him. Since I’m relieved he’s alive even though he looks like he’s about to keel over any second, I choose to kiss him. I can always hit him later.

He’s trembling all over but his lips are as soft and warm as ever. I keep the kiss mostly chaste, not because I’m worried about someone seeing us, but because I don’t want to put anymore strain on D’Aakh’s struggling heart.

Pulling back slightly, D’Aakh eyes me with confusion. “That’s…not what I expected.”

Smacking his shoulder, I grumble, “This what you expected? You’re such an idiot. Can you even walk?”

“Well, I expected you wouldn’t even talk to me and yes, I can walk. As long as I can lean against a wall or…something.” He hesitates as he looks around and realizes that we’re in the middle of the spacious docking area and the nearest wall is at least fifty yards away.

“Uh-huh. Perfect. I’m so glad the reinforcements have arrived,” I snicker. “Lean against me, bughead.”

“I’ll manage.”

Mimicking Zarkan’s furious glare, I bark, “Is that how you follow orders, soldier?”

Mouth parted slightly, D’Aakh stares at me. At first, I worry he’s having a heart attack but then I notice the tips of his antennae turning red. Like when we’d had sex. The bastard’s aroused by me ordering him around. That’s going to be fun.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Put your hands on me,” I add. His mouth opens a little wider as he inhales sharply. “I mean your arm. Around my shoulders,” I explain, feigning an innocent smile.

“Right. Of course,” D’Aakh grunts, clearing his throat. As he puts his arm around my shoulders, he discreetly tugs at the fabric of his pants, adjusting himself. I barely smother the giggle that’s dying to come out.

Glimpsing a group of kitchen personnel learning to use a rifle catches my eye and any sense of amusement dies.

By the time we reach the workshop, D’Aakh’s breathing is labored and he’s trembling so hard I’m worried he’s going to collapse any second. I help him to get seated before rushing off to bring back some water. “Are you okay?” I ask as D’Aakh sips shakily from the bottle. “You really should have stayed in the infirmary. You look like shit.”

“Have you seen yourself in the mirror lately?” he retorts with a weak smile. “I just need to sit down for a bit. Thank you, by the way.”

“For that thing with Zarkan?” I wave my hand dismissively. “That’s nothing. I wasn’t even lying. I do need your help.”

D’Aakh wipes sweat off his forehead. “I meant for saving my life.”

“Oh. That. Anyone would have done the same. Besides, it was the Serramorphs who dragged your sorry ass all the way back to the ship. I never could have done it on my own. You’re kind of heavy, you know?”

“I’d argue that you’re not the lightest girl yourself but then you’d punch me and I’m not sure I’d survive it,” he grins. “Besides, I’m all muscle.” He flexes his arm, his impressive biceps stretching the fabric of his uniform.

I nearly salivate at the sight of his muscles and the memory of how easily he handled my body. My pussy awakens, demanding attention. “All muscle,” I agree absently. “We should have sex again.” The words are out before my brain can process them.

D’Aakh gawks at me. “Really?”

“What? No! I meant work. We should get to work,” I correct myself, my skin probably glowing red from head to toe. Dammit. I need to start thinking before I speak. “Let me show you what I’ve been working on.”

D’Aakh is eyeing me with what looks like deep sexual hunger. Or maybe he’s having a stroke. God, I could use a stroke. On my clit.

No! I quickly imagine my Nana chastising me for coming home late. Anything to get out of this incredibly awkward situation.

Why the hell did I mention sex? Now, of all times? We’re about to fight for our lives and D’Aakh has literally just come back from the brink of death just hours ago. Sex right now would probably kill him. Still, being a male he’d make some stupid joke about it being a great way to die.

Argh! He doesn’t even have to speak, and I already want to smack him again.

“Alright, let’s get to work,” D’Aakh says, shifting in the chair in an attempt to hide his erection.Unfortunately, it only draws my attention to it more and now I'm remembering how amazing his cock felt inside me. “Just for the record,” he adds, “if you did want to have sex, I’m all in. I’ll probably die from the exertion but it’d be worth it.”

Gritting my teeth I think, yep, I’m definitely beating this idiot to death before the day is over.