“I will not now, or ever, be honeymooning with you,” I snapped.
“We will see about that.” He smirked, and vanished again.
My lips formed a word that would have most certainly got me made into a public spectacle.
This wasn’t my first trip to the underground spaceport.
I’d been there a couple of times to receive specialized—and rather shady—Drakonian goods requiring a rapid courier. The Drakes used the upper port for most things, including when they required us to transport them somewhere. It was a bright and airy space with highly structured organization.
The underground one was another matter. Navigation to it was tricky—the entrance was built into the riverbank near the base of one of the clan towers. Three concrete-lined channels kept the swirling water at bay, but puddles lay everywhere, as if the river was trying to reclaim its lost territory.
Once the controller had given us our berth assignment, I guided theStardrifteralong the channels and into the dark, damp, and unwelcoming main bay.
As usual, there were things going on in the damp, drippy, and shadowy corners that were not to be examined too closely. The docked ships were a mixed lot, but all of them were old, featuring a mishmash of borrowed and reclaimed parts. Despite her age,Stardrifterwas like a pearl among coal, and I sensed the stares of every shifty eye in the place.
The berth we’d been given was along one wall. After I set the ship down on the platform, the Drakes escorted Kurt, Yani, and I off it.
This port always gave me the creeps, and so did those hanging out in it. Clusters of individuals lurked in the shadows, murmuring in low tones as they conducted less than pristine business, and I caught the acrid whiff of Brimstone smoke. I spotted a few Drakes that didn’t sport the distinctive Tazier Clan tatts—no Raptors among them, I caught myself checking—but the majority of the clientele were visitors from other worlds. As we followed the Drakes to the dock exit, I tried not to stare at the assortment of body forms—most were bipedal, but I did see one with four stumpy legs and another that had tentacles rather than limbs.
I leaned closer to Yani. “Does he need to be in water? Tentacles don’t seem suited to walking.”
“He is native to an ocean world,” Yani confirmed. “But you might be surprised at the things those Graniks can do with those tentacles.”
The way she said it had me shooting her a glance. Not that I could see much—she’d bundled herself up in a full-bodied and hooded snowsuit. I hadn’t realized they made them in purple withpink polka dots, but apparently so. Even her tail was wrapped in a crocheted cozy. I’d helped her adapt a leg warmer pattern for that.
When I opened my mouth to ask for elaboration on that comment, I noticed she was breathing like she’d just run a mile, almost panting, really. She hurried to add, “My cousin raves about her tentacle encounters… and I did like to watch. It was—stimulating.”
Shewatched? My mouth slammed closed. I knew nothing about Drolgok arousal but I found myself examining the tentacles with more interest. The things you discovered about your friends… my mind buzzed with possibilities as the Drakes keyed open a door and led us down a long hall.
Despite being behind a locked door, the metal walls were dented and damaged, the floors so dirty that dust bunnies the size of camels resided in the corners, and the air stank of mold and old smoke.
“The retrofit will take two hours,” Senaik told us as he ushered us into a dimly lit room. “You will remain here. Elimination facilities are across the hall. A guard is assigned to you, so do not attempt to go elsewhere.”
The second Drake hadn’t taken his eyes off me the entire time, and from behind his back, Kurt glowered at him.
I ignored all of them, concentrating instead on getting off my feet for as long as possible. I collapsed onto a long, rather battered couch, desperate to lie down. I didn’t ache anymore, but the dizziness was still there.
The Drakes left the room and closed the door. Although the smell coming off the couch did not encourage lowering my head anywhere near it, my true reason for refusing to lie prone sauntered over to me.
“Two hours,” he said. “We could spend the time getting primed for our mating ritual.” He waggled his brows suggestively.
“Ugh,” commented Yani. “Could you be any more disgusting?”
He glared at her. “You could wait in the washroom. Jaz and I would like to be alone.”
“Princess Jazmin”—I wiped more sweat off my face—“does not want to be alone with you.”
“Princess?” He frowned at me. “What is wrong with you, anyway? You look like crap.”
I scowled at him. “You certainly are exceeding your romantic capabilities.”
I should have known that sarcasm would be lost on this idiot. “Who said anything about romance?” Kurt countered, his brows dropping low. “One way or another, I am going to bang you.”
Yani did something I rarely heard her do—she hissed, before snarling, “Even Graniks have better courtship rituals than you.”
He glowered at her. “What’s a Granik?”
“They have slimy tentacles,” I supplied. “And yet still beat you on looks.”
