Page 2 of Space Daddy’s Guide to the Galaxy (Villains in Space #2)

2

ZIGGY

My stellar collision is in trouble.

Must. Get. To. My. Mate.

Those were my only thoughts two minutes ago as I switched tactics partway through my mission, abandoning my original plan of espionage in favor of simply securing the asset and star hopping to my ship.

When I’d materialized on the gangway, close to where I’d felt Micah’s vibrations, my borrowed hearts nearly stopped.

What in Stellaria’s name happened here?!

Micah was standing—barely—and covered in a strange green substance with a Torrid Blaster dangling from his hand.

A blaster he was now aiming at me.

“Get the fuck off my ship!” he growled in the trade language, making my borrowed dick twitch with what a “bad bitch” he was being.

So cute and threatening…

When he cocked the blaster, I realized he was too keyed up to realize it was me in this Maroxian skinsuit, which meant I had about a millisecond to react before he fired.

I could deflect the blast with my tendrils, but I was still holding the asset in my claws, so I star hopped again—this time, materializing directly beside him.

“It’s me, my…” I crooned as non-threateningly as possible, wincing as I realized there was no direct translation in this language for either his name or what he was to me. “Celestial catastrophe.”

That works, given the situation.

“Wha—oh, thank fuck,” Micah replied in his native tongue, able to understand the Maroxian language thanks to his implanted translation device. “I maybe could have fought another one, but sheesh! That was a lot.”

Wait, what?

He dropped the gun onto the pile of weapons he was inexplicably standing in and moved to hug me before rearing back. “Ugh. Hold on. I’m covered in… alien… goo.”

He paused to gingerly dissolve his shields. This was a process that normally fascinated me, but the reality of the situation was starting to settle in, and my true form did not like it one bit.

“You… fought a Maroxian?” I carefully asked as a few wayward tendrils unfurled, needing to touch him—to confirm he was unharmed. “How did a Maroxian get onto the ship?”

“Uh, haha, yeah, soooo, about that…” Micah laughed nervously, shifting on his feet and tripping over the goo-covered weapons littering the floor. “I may have… accidentally let one in, thinking it was you. But, as you can see, I took care of the problem.”

A Maroxian tried to hurt what was mine?

I AM GOING TO KILL THEM ALL!

“Hey! What's that you're holding?” My mate’s smooth voice momentarily distracted me from imminent violence.

If I’d had visible eyes, I would have slow-blinked. Instead, I followed his gaze down to my prize.

“It’s. An. Egg,” I gritted out, practically shaking at this point.

I still want to kill them all.

“Huh,” he replied, cocking his head as he reached for it, either oblivious to or ignoring my simmering rage. “I was expecting an actual baby.”

“Yes, well…” I grunted, more than happy to hand off the beach ball-sized object and follow closely behind as he began skipping down the gangway. “Nothing about this mission went to plan.”

Micah stiffened but didn’t turn around, and I couldn’t help but notice how he then completed his journey by stomping into my weapons room.

Which is apparently no longer my weapons room…

“What?” I gaped, my confusion temporarily eclipsing my haywire protective instincts. “What… did you do?”

I winced again as I felt Micah’s reaction to my primitive words but, yet again, I lacked the language to better express myself.

Which would be happening even if I was back in my Earthling form, I’m sure.

“Well, partner,” he snapped, spinning to face me, his tone making me straighten. “While you were out on a very important yet solo mission, your little housewife was at home, working on the nursery.”

My… wife?

The word had such a visceral effect on me, I was lost for words. Unfortunately, this hesitation only seemed to increase Micah’s irritation. With a huff, he turned away again, and I mutely watched as he carefully placed the oversized egg in an empty dry goods container lined with satin.

Specifically, the pile of kimonos Theo gave me as a goodbye present.

This makeshift bedding wasn’t an issue, as I wanted nothing less than to dress like an aging Hollywood starlet. If anything, I puffed up with pride that Micah had come up with this solution on his own.

My mate is such a good provider.

Mine.

The possessive need to claim him roiled beneath the surface, but Micah was obviously upset, and we’d been together long enough for me to know he needed to communicate first.

Dr. Micah requires a session.

“It would not have been safe for you to come,” I explained yet again. “Maroxians eat most every other species in the galaxy. They might have seen you as food.”

“I would have been fine!” he shouted, angrily gesturing toward the innards-spattered gangway. “Clearly, I fought off a man-eating Maroxian all by myself?—”

My vision went red as I advanced, backing him against the wall. “I know you did. Feeling your terror while being unable to reach you was excruciating.”

Micah’s plump bottom lip trembled, but I knew he’d prefer I shared my thoughts—my feelings— than hold anything inside.

Talk about excruciating.

The stellar collision bond we shared allowed both of us to sense the other’s emotions to some extent—similar to how a Stellarian’s tendrils tasted the air—but the piece of myself I’d left inside my mate gave me unfettered access to his inner workings.

Almost as if we’re a single organism.

Just how I like it.

What I had no intention of sharing was that the main reason I hadn’t immediately star hopped back to the ship was because of how delicate the mission was.

Astrum Force—and the anonymous benefactor of said mission—was counting on me to grab that stupid egg, which meant I’d been forced to make a split-second decision that now sat in my gut like a stone.

What if I left intel behind that could have helped us?

What if Micah hadn’t won the fight?

The lack of intel I could work with— hopefully —but if something had happened to my stellar collision before I’d reached him, I never would have forgiven myself.

And then I definitely would have killed everyone.

Micah swallowed thickly. “I-I’m sorry, Zig?—”

No, I’m sorry, sunshine.

“It was for the best,” I interrupted, my unavoidably harsh tone making him flinch. “If I’d arrived in time to find that Maroxian attacking you, it would still be alive, because I’d force it to watch as I removed every one of its appendages. Slowly. Painfully.”

My mate was shuddering, and for one, horrifying moment, I feared I’d triggered him. Here I was, cornering his much smaller, more fragile form while resembling the very same alien he’d just eliminated.

I keep fucking things up.

“Zig,” Micah gasped, his lashes fluttering. “I’m trying to be mad over here, but then you have to talk about slicing up our enemies…”

I chuckled, which came out as more of a dry wheeze with these vocal chords. “You want to be mad at me?”

“Yes. I mean, no… I dunno,” he mumbled. “What I really want is for you to show me I’m yours.”

“I would enjoy nothing more,” I rasped, lowering my head before remembering my appearance. “Let me first go swap out this skinsuit?—”

“No!” Micah yelped before his cheeks darkened with an enticing blush. “I want you… like this.”

My massive jaw dropped. “You do?”

I shouldn’t have been surprised. My stellar collision had an insatiable appetite, and he’d made it clear from the start he wanted me in all forms.

My perfect slut.

“Are you… certain?” I asked, even as my exoskeleton-covered cock extended to press insistently against his stomach. “You’ve only just survived an encounter with a Maroxian?—”

“And that’s exactly why I want it.” Micah jutted out his chin, daring me to argue. “I want to run from my nightmare, but this time, when it catches me, I want it to fuck me into the gangway floor.”

“Did you say run?” I choked out, stumbling back a few feet as my—and my skinsuit’s—predatory instincts dangerously flared to life.

Micah swallowed again, his gaze sweeping over me hungrily as he inched toward the doorway. “Yeah, I did. My safe word is Stormtrooper, and right now, I’m your Earthling prey.”

And then, he raced into the hall.

Well.

What babygirl wants, babygirl gets.