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He growls at me, low and approving. A feral gleam erupts in his glacial gaze, and I hope I haven't just made a terrible mistake. Navik said he prefers to take his women fighting and I shouldn't provoke him. But I refuse to surrender to my fears, and I will never give him the satisfaction of knowing how afraid I am.
"I know that I am," I vehemently state even though I'm quaking with terror on the inside. "And you are going to fly me back to Earth."
"Am I?" Navik studies me through narrowed eyes, his expression unreadable. "And how will you be paying for my services to fly you back to your precious Earth, starfire?" The pet name he's given me rolls off his tongue like a searing caress.
"Stop calling me that." I swallow hard as raw need seeps through my rage.
"Why? With your fiery temperament, it suits you so well." Navik reaches out to trace long, thick fingers along my collar bone and lower. "If not currency, what else do you have that might interest me, starfire?"
"Nothing." I suck in a soft breath as the rough pads of his fingers brush across the swell of my breast, enticing a wicked heat to coil low in my belly.
"Oh, I very much doubt that." Navik's gaze never leaves mine as his hand slips under my robe to cup the weight of one breast. "You have ample curves to purchase a flight home. Unless you're hiding rillium or tellic under the folds of your garment."
I shake my head, my voice lost in tremulous sensations. His touch has me quivering, my breath coming in sharp little gasps. My body ignites when he trails his thumb across the stiff peak of my nipple. I strain into the palm of his hand, needing to satisfy the gnawing ache coursing through me.
My breath hitches in my throat as Navik traces lazy circles around my hardened bud, the sensation echoing in my clit. He's both gentle and demanding, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through my limbs.
"So, no currency to bargain with." His lips curl into a wicked smile. "All that leaves is the bartering of your flesh." He finally releases me from his wicked touch, a satisfied grin playing on his lips. "Shall we make a deal, starfire?"
I gulp, shaken to my throbbing core.
"I gorge myself on your succulent flesh in exchange for a flight to Earth?"
"Only if you promise not to return me to the warden." I find my voice, deep and husky with need. "And you'll return me to Earth."
"On my honor as a Star Maverick." He pounds a fist over his heart.
Do pirates have honor? Taking Navik at his word is risky, but what choice do I have? The deal is struck. Besides that, I'm stuck on a spaceship I have no hope of flying, with a professional criminal.
Navik returns to the access tunnel and curls a finger, beckoning me to join him. "You offered help?" His smile is slow and wicked. "Then come here, starfire. I accept what you offer."
Why did his summons sound innately more provocative than just me passing him tools?
Now that my head’s clearing from a lusty fog, I'm filled with panic and a desperate urge to run away. My feet shuffle nervously as I consider the proposition I've made—my body in exchange for a ride home.
Navik is enormous. Muscular chest bared, he wears only ripped black pants which have been stretched thin from his beastly transformation and heavy soled boots. His alien anatomy is unmistakable beneath the dark fabric of his clothing, and I can't help but wonder—will it hurt when he claims me?
My knees tremble as I crouch on the floor across from Navik, making sure the tool bag is between us like a shield against his advances. I know it's a false sense of security, but I'm scared to get too close to him. Afraid he'll grab me up, ready to take his first payment from my flesh.
He reaches out, but instead of tearing my robe from my body and taking me on the floor of his spaceship, he lifts out each tool and names it.
"Can you remember all that, starfire?"
"Yes." I roll up the long sleeves of my robe, relieved the feral heat in his eyes has faded and ready to keep his mind occupied on something other than my body. "My dad was an auto mechanic," I nervously blurt. "He used to let me help in the garage."
"Your sire repairs conveyances?"
"Repaired," I correct, sadly. "He died of cancer when I was ten."
Navik simply grunts and crawls back inside the tunnel. I'm not surprised when no words of sympathy come from him. He doesn’t seem the type to feel sorry for anyone or anything.
I tuck my robe around me and sit by the tool bag, waiting for instructions.
"Helic," he commands.
I sift through the bag until I find what looks like a cross between a wrench and a screwdriver. It has two prongs on one end and a curved handle on the other. The metal is cold to the touch, but it's surprisingly light for its size.
I place it in Navik's outstretched palm. His long, blue fingers curl around the tool, grazing mine. Tingles shoot up my arm, and I rub away the sensation. There is nothing I should find attractive about Navik. He’s been nothing but rude and nasty to me, except for his beast.
