“We could stop the ship.”
I didn’t realize I’d spoken aloud until he responded.
“Yeah. If you want to die bloody.” Xandros moved up beside me. He cradled Sookie against him, his thick fingers working in her fur.
I sighed. “Yeah.” The slipstream wasn’t really one long channel between two points, but rather a series of interconnected pathways. Travel through it was a delicate balancing act, one thrown into chaos if there was a breakdown in mid-slip.
We could shut the drive down and hang in limbo. There were systems for monitoring breakdowns, but before the cosmic equivalent of a tow truck arrived, another ship could slam right into us.
Such accidents happened often. Xandros was right. It wasn’t worth the risk.
But, every second we remained in the slipstream, it hurtled us closer to the Nirzks.
“We will find a solution,” the big Drake rumbled. “Zyair is smart. It is why he is our alpha. And Rhodes—he—he also has a certain wisdom.”
I glanced up at him. He was so tall that I barely came up to his chest. Which was naked. And no human could compete with those muscles. Wow.
I opened my mouth to speak and nothing emerged. So I cleared my throat and tried again. “What about you?”
He shrugged, grinned, and flexed his arm. “I thump things, my sweet-cheeked drifter.”
His blue eyes sparkled with gentle mischief, and my heart did an odd little flip.
No.I couldn’t afford to fall for this guy. But fucking hell, it was hard not to, with that lopsided grin and his fingers making Sookie close her eyes in bliss.
I wouldn’t mind those fingers stroking me…
Where the hell had that come from? I wrenched my gaze away, and hit a button on the console. A drawer popped open, revealing the cube.
It wasn’t a cube, exactly. More a three-dimensional hexagon. It glowed as I snatched it from its berth. Turning to march back up the hall, I did my best to ignore the sexy behemoth striding along with me.
Yani was already busy in the kitchen. Sookie made a chirruping sound and bounced out of Xandros’s arms to the table, and from there, jumped to the counter.
The Drolgok shook her head and placed her off to one side with her own plate of goodies. Although she preferred live insects and worms, Sookie had developed a broad palate—she particularly loved snickerdoodles, which was a large part of what Yani had given her.
Yani then placed a package of wraps on the table, along with vacuum packs of various meats. And to that, she added a plate of my favorite chocolate-covered pastries.
Xandros’s eyes lit right up. “Those look amazing. Mmm… chocolate,” he rumbled, and snagged one before Yani had even placed it on the table.
A Drake that loved small furry creatures and chocolate. Be still my heart. My mouth opened, and I yammered, “Our supplier guy is a foodie and he has a thing for me. He always adds extra treats to our list.”
Xandros started to plunk his big frame into a chair, then winced and yanked hard on the crotch of his coveralls again.
“How do your males wear these?” he complained as he lowered himself more carefully. “Shaftzing things almost unmaled me.” He didn’t wait for an answer, but pounced on the meat packs like he hadn’t seen food in months.
It was rumored that Drakes only wore the loincloth thingies or cloaks, as they enabled them to shift form in a hurry. There was a certain metal that expanded with them, but these guys only had metal on their ears. I supposed if you weren’t used to the constriction of clothing in key personal places, it would be uncomfortable. Particularly if those assets were of impressive size.
Which they were.
Zyair and Rhodes came in. Neither one of them looked happy. “There is nothing of use in Senaik’s room,” Zyair growled. “He is unlikely to tell us anything.”
They both sat down—carefully, with such depth of facial contortions that my lips twitched. Something deep inside me relaxed as I sat there with the three of them. As if I had nothing to fear now that they were with me.
Which was, of course, ridiculous. They wereDrakes. The very ones I was attempting to avoid entanglements with.Get with the program, Jaz, I thought as I unconsciously scratched my butt cheek against the stool.
To be more honest, my escape was as much about Kurt. Or, mostly Kurt. Along with my seriously twisted half-brother.
The Drakes were more fussed about their pants strangling their personal bits than they were about their multitude of half-healed wounds. As though being covered in wounds was commonplace for them.
