Lunar Lovers (2 page)

Chapter Two

The activity of the small space station buzzed around Sam as
he stopped in the middle of the shopping ring’s wide way and breathed deeply.
Within the stale recycled air, past the stench of trash and citrusy-smelling
cleaning chemicals, beyond the medicated water and deep-freeze food…he scented
an irresistible bouquet. His body hardened, every muscle growing taut as he
inhaled the sexual scent that fired his blood and enlivened the coupling
instincts that his species had held since the dawning of their civilization.

He followed the scent to Spaced, hunting his mortal mate.

When he entered the upscale clothing store, his jaw clenched
as his cock swelled. She had been here—briefly but recently. Adjusting the
strap on his sling bag, he followed her scent through the aisles up to the
cash-out counter, where his mate had lingered longest.

The sales clerk turned and smiled. Her scent changed,
revealing her sexual interest and befouling his mortal mate’s scent. He
wrinkled his nose and walked out, not bothering to ask questions because he
didn’t want to prolong time spent in the presence of a female whose robust
scent diluted his mate’s.

Down the way, his mate’s scent lingered on a small trash bot
and then detoured into a scummy alley. A low growl rumbled up his throat when
he found pale-yellow shoes and a long strip of material that smelled not just
of his mate but of her blood and pain. He stuffed the strip of worn brown
material inside the shabby shoes and cradled them to his chest.

Her apparent injury quickened his heart and his steps.

Outside the alley, Sam picked up her scent once more and
followed it into the three-hundred, then four-hundred curves. When his instinct
took him to Misty’s, a high-end restaurant he frequented whenever he docked at
Ploice Two station, a thrill zipped up his spine to crackle in his head. They
shared the same taste in food.

Her scent pooled a few paces from the blue-tinted shield
door but did not move past it.

The manager, Carpus, stepped outside and offered him a
polite closed-lipped smile.

“Mor Pherein.” Carpus gave a short, fast bow. “May I serve
you?”

“Yes. I am looking for a female who stopped here no more
than ten minutes ago.”

“Ah, yes, the little
roughien
who was seeking
employment. I advised her to visit the establishments located in the
eight-hundred curve.” He swiped the palms of his thin, spindly hands against
his slacks as if wiping his hands of her.

Sam’s vision bled to red as anger rushed through his veins,
elongating his sharp canines so that they made indentations on his lower lip.
He thirsted for the manager’s blood. And from the bastard’s reaction, Carpus
knew it too. The male’s hand trembled as it protectively circled his throat. He
shuffled backward.

“I-I meant n-no offense, Mor Pherein. I—”

Leashing his impulse to do bodily harm, Sam snarled at the
Krahs before turning on his heel and heading down the way to the eight-hundred
curve. By the time he hit the seven hundreds, he had calmed enough to overcome
his instinctual drive to return to Misty’s and murder the manager. Obviously
his rage was an overreaction brought on by the pursuit of his mate. Carpus had
not known he was insulting Sam’s mate. She was not wearing his family mark over
her breast, nor would her clothing reflect his house colors—brown and blue for
earth and sky.

Sam cursed as, far overhead, an industrial-sized fan started
up and sterilizer sprayed, stirring and cleaning the air—and weakening his
mate’s scent. He would not lose her. If he had to go into every establishment
in the whole damn ring, then that’s exactly what he would do. Lucky for him,
her sweet scent reemerged just outside Motel Mehendra, a sagging two-story
building with hourly rates.

His heart thumped hard when he walked into the lobby and saw
his mortal mate speaking to a stoop-backed elderly male who stood behind the
counter. She was lovely. Her white-blonde hair cascaded down to her small waist
and slight hips like a tumble of frothy waves. Her bare feet showed signs of a
moderate chemical burn from that trash bot and her petite frame appeared stiff
and determined as she talked to the male.

“I am willing to take any position, Mor,” she said. “I’m a
fast learner and a hard worker.”

The male barked out a low, “Nothing here for you, girl. Move
along. I got customers.”

She looked over her shoulder, probably searching for customers.
Her magenta gaze landed on Sam, held, then returned to the clerk. “If you just
give me a chance, I can—”

“You’re wasting my time, girl.” The old male turned his
back, dismissing her.

With a deep breath, she squared her slim shoulders and
hurried out the shield door. When she passed by Sam, he drank her in, his whole
body straining to absorb her essence. His mouth watered, his muscles tightened,
his cock jerked in his trousers.

Calling on his normally steadfast control, he swallowed past
his need and slipped her shoes into his sling bag as he followed her out into
the wide curveway. When she paused before the dingy diner next door, he
approached her.

Hands in his pockets, he spoke softly so as not to startle
his mate. “Excuse me, Mar.”

She looked up, her magenta eyes shining with tears.

He fought the urge to pull her into his arms and comfort
her. He fought harder to ignore her injuries and instead focus on convincing
her to come with him.

“Did I hear you say you’re looking for work?”

She tilted her head to the side, reminding him of a bird.
“Honorable work,” she clarified, suspicion lacing her tone.

“Of course.” He bowed his head to her in respect. “I have
such a position at my family home on Twellen Moon. We are looking for a
domestic, as our mining business has taken off and now demands most of our
time.”

Eyes wary, she extended her hand. “I’m Achelle.”

Interesting that she doesn’t offer her surname
, he
thought before introducing himself. “My name is Samius Pherein, Mar Achelle,
but my friends and family call me Sam. It is my pleasure to meet you.”

He took her hand and bowed over it, pressing the lightest of
kisses on her knuckles so as not to frighten her with his attention.
Straightening, he closed his eyes for the briefest moment, licking his lips to
taste her. When he met her gaze, her eyes flared in recognition. Her body
acknowledged him as her mate even if her mind did not.

This time when he spoke his voice came out deep and
gravelly. “Do you have interest in taking a position away from the station?” he
asked to distract both of them from the sexual pull that rode their tense
bodies.

Her pretty pink lips parted.

Achelle tried to speak but all she could do was suck in a
sharp breath and nod her head as if she were a rude child.

What’s wrong with me?
she wondered. The sudden,
intense attraction to the male was not like her at all, but there was something
about him—something that went beyond his green-blue eyes that she couldn’t stop
staring at or his tall, well-built body that she imagined pressing up against,
or his smile-lined mouth that she wanted to taste. She trusted him. Naturally,
innately trusted this unknown male when she had trusted no one but her mother
for so long.

At last, she pulled herself together enough to ask, “Are
there any other females at your home, Mor?”

He smiled for the first time and it thrilled her. Little
sparks of attraction licked across her skin and brought blood to her cheeks.
Damn.
No doubt she was turning red. She bit her lip to suppress the crazy desire
breaking over her body.

“There are many females on Twellen Moon and two within the
household neighboring ours.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. If other females lived
nearby, surely she would be safe there as well. Still, she didn’t want to
become stuck if it turned out to be too good to be true.

Samius seemed to read the thoughts on her face because he
said, “You could accept on a trial basis. If you are unhappy with anything, I
give you my word that I will return you to the station any time you request
it.”

Achelle breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” Then, taking
a leap of faith, she said, “I accept.”

A satisfied smile spread across his face, one that sent a
shiver up Achelle’s spine and made her doubt her decision. There was a world of
subtext in the hard lines of his masculine jaw and the twinkling of his soft
green-blue eyes. Before she could voice her doubt, he asked, “Where is your
luggage? We will go retrieve it now.”

Her fingers trembled and she latched on to her skirt to hide
the tremor. “I have nothing,” she lied.

He frowned, lines gathering in his brow, but he didn’t
question her falsehood. Instead he looked her up and down and said, “We will
need to remedy that before we return home. There are few options,
clothing-wise, on Twellen Moon.” He turned and walked toward the nearest
clothing store.

She stayed rooted to the spot, choking on her pride. She did
not want him to know she had no credit to purchase clothing with and she could
not return to the spaceship with Captain Grab-Ass there to lay claim to her.

Samius turned and lifted one thick brow. “Is there a
problem, Mar?”

She stiffened her spine and met his eyes. “I prefer to
purchase additional clothing after I have earned my first pay-credit.”

After a brief hesitation during which a group of males from
Achelle’s ship walked between them, eyeing her curiously, Samius replied, “The
clothes I will purchase are work attire and therefore my financial
responsibility. Shall we proceed?”

Achelle nodded her assent but did not join her new employer
until the group of men ambled into a house of prostitution. The tingling,
itching feel at the back of her neck started, warning her that Captain Grab-Ass
was somewhere nearby watching her. She swallowed past the lump in her throat
and edged closer to the protection of Samius’ large, muscular body as they
walked into the clothing store, Gamo.

The clothing that lined the walls and hung delicately from
stands throughout the store was of higher quality than at Spaced. All made from
digital fabric, they were designed to last a lifetime and of versatile fashion.
Unless Samius planned to pay her an enormous salary, it would take her years to
pay off even one outfit. Her heart sank. That her employer meant to pay for
this—

Captain Grab-Ass walked into the store and headed right
toward her. Suddenly Samius stepped in front of her, facing the captain
unflinchingly. “Is there something you want from my employee?” he glanced at
the yellow space-captain badge on his left shoulder, “Captain?”

Captain Grab-Ass snorted. “This girl is my passenger and
therefore my responsibility. I mean to take her back to my ship. Step aside,
Mor.”

Samius didn’t budge. “Your passenger disembarked and
accepted a position with my household. She is now my responsibility, not
yours.”

Stepping to the side, Captain Grab-Ass said to Achelle,
“Girl, I promised your mother I would see you safely to your destination. Would
you have me break my word?”

“My mother passed unto the Far Stars. I have to make my own
decisions and I decided that a domestic position with Mor Pherein’s household
will suit me just fine.”

His eyes widened and he chuckled. “A domestic position, eh?
More likely you’ll sleep in his bed than make it.”

Samius’ hand moved so fast it was a blur. He wrapped his
fingers around the captain’s throat and squeezed until the smaller man wheezed
for air. “You will not insult the Mar. Ever. Understood?”

Gasping like a space diver minus his oxygen mask, the
captain choked as his head bobbed on his shoulders, agreeing wildly to what
Samius said.

Samius released him and the captain stumbled back, sucking
in big gulps of air. His eyes, watery with tears, flashed angrily at Achelle
before he turned and stormed out of the building.

Achelle shivered. There had lived a promise in his eyes. One
of retribution, a pledge of pain.

Samius’ voice came out soft and soothing. “You are in no
danger, Mar Achelle. As part of my household, you are under my and my family’s
protection. Nothing and no one will harm you.”

Looking into the male’s sincere face, Achelle believed that
Samius would do everything in his power to protect her. Problem was, Captain
Grab-Ass had that wild look of obsession when he’d met her eyes, and if there
was one thing she had learned in the eighteen years of her life it was that
obsessed people were not only dangerous but unpredictable. One never knew what
they would do or when.

Samius made short work of selecting her work wardrobe, which
appeared far more pretty than serviceable, but she would not argue with her new
employer’s selection. Not when he’d just saved her from the nightmare who’d
followed her off the ship.

With a dozen and a half outfits paid for and packaged, they
left the store for his one-man flip ship—made for traveling short distances in
a series of little light jumps. Declining her help, he secured her clothing
with the mountain of other purchases in the back of the crowded ship while she
watched.

Despite his size, he was graceful in his movements. Achelle
had the sinking feeling that she could spend the rest of her life watching the
man in motion, imagining how he would move on her if they ever made love.

She ground her teeth. Where had that thought come from?

The unwarranted trust…and lust she felt for him made her
nervous, unsure of herself, both being so unlike her. Where had her wariness
gone?

His actions in the short time she’d known him should make
her like him, not lust over him, not love him. But her heart raced at a look or
a touch from him. She happily snuggled in on the seat in front of him as he ran
through a systems check, his arms circling her as he flipped buttons on the
control panel in front of them, his chin resting on her head.