She reinforced the silent vow with a decisive nod—that loosened the last scrunchie holding her stylish-yet-professional bun. The first clip had broken when she’d smacked her head on the upper shelf of the cooler while helping Ikaryo stock the bar in the Starlit Salon while she’d been reviewing the evening’s specials one last time. She’d sacrificed the second clip when she’d found the froggy-looking Griiek cobbling together a last-minute repair to the hallway mood lighting. The third clip… Well, she had no idea where it was, somewhere on the ship, presumably, but it hadn’t been in her hair when she’d taken a moment to freshen up and deep breathe before her pre-launch presentation in the command module.
Still, despite that minor flustering, she’d held everyone’s attention and gotten return smiles—or the extraterrestrial equivalents thereof—from everyone.
Everyone except Captain Nehivar.
Captain Never-Smiles. That was what she called him in her head along with other silent vows, deep breaths, and various unvoiced uncertainties she hadn’t yet quite managed to vanquish.
When she’d first interviewed for this flight, the crew manifest had been missing its captain and chief engineer. After she got the position, she’d learned from Ikaryo, basically the only other front-of-house guest services staff on the crew, that it was odd to not have the command crew already assigned; many spacers wouldn’t sign to a ship until they knew the captain. But this was just a short shakedown excursion, the inaugural launch of the Big Sky Intergalactic Dating Agency’s new Cosmic Connections Cruises. With only essential staff and a small passenger list of IDA guests who’d won a seat in return for their testament, the three-sunset tour was her chance to show the boss—notCaptain Never-Smiles, but the big boss, Mr. Evens—she was the right person for a permanent position.
Taking another deep breath, Felicity ducked into one of the many private alcoves hidden around the Love Boat I. According to Griiek, the nooks were original to the schematics, although the purpose was unclear, but with the current incarnation as an alien speed-dating cruise ship, the alcoves would hopefully soon be filled with flirtatious murmurs and maybe promises of more.
Her deep breath turned into a wistful sigh.Notfor herself. No, she hadn’t signed with the IDA forthat. While she hadn’t found the right relationship on Earth, just being part of love across the universe would be so satisfying.
But before she met the first lucky guests, she had to smooth the frazzle. She leaned over to reset her bun, awkwardlyclamping the datpad under her elbow. Of all the many wonders she’d encountered since leaving Earth, one of the biggest disappointments was discovering there was no astro-miracle cure for fine, straight hair. And with only one scrunchie left—
Against the sleek fabric of her uniform, the datpad slipped. With an eep of dismay, she fumbled, her fingertips skimming over the screen, folding herself in half as she tried to catch it…
In front of her nose, a huge, golden paw-hand snagged the datpad out of midair, claws sliding out to bracket the device. With his other paw, the captain levered her upright.
Oof, so strong, so unyielding. At least his hand around her arm wasn’t clawed…at the moment.
Was this how a fawn felt for its last moments in the jaws of a lion? Heart pounding, desperate to run, but utterly overcome.
He looked like an Art Nouveau painting of a lion—done by an alien who’d never seen an actual Earther feline. His features were broad and bold, his wide cheeks and flattened nose barely softened by short, plush, golden fur and long, silvery whiskers that feathered back into the thick, darker gold mane of hair that flowed down his neck and over his shoulders. His version of the IDA uniform had a wide, deep neckline to accommodate his mane, and no sleeves, revealing more of the luxurious fur that barely softened the heavy musculature of his arms.
But half hidden in the gold were darkened scars.
She’d overheard some hushed gossip about pirates, but since her guest-facing position as cruise director placed her in an awkward strata separate from both command and the line crew, mostly the whispers cut out when she was around. And she couldn’t quite tell if the captain had run afoul of pirates…or if he’d been one himself. Mr. Evens hadn’t offered any personal history when he’d introduced their Kufzasin leader. And she certainly wasn’t going to ask Captain Never-Smiles how he’d lost an eye.
Hanging in his firm grip, she stared up into that remaining eye. Like a cat’s, the pupil was a black slice through the golden hue that filled most of the orb. At this unnervingly close distance, with him looming over her, she was mesmerized by flecks of color—red, purple, green—that gave his fierce gaze a shimmer she hadn’t really noticed before, like a thousand tiny gemstones.
She swallowed hard. “Um…”Thishadn’t been on her checklist for the evening to-dos. Oh, maybe there might be a secret page in the datpad, keyed only to her ident and two private codes, with some wildly inappropriate speculating, but only because her therapist back on Earth had told her that brain dumps were a good way to manage her anxiety.
Her brain had apparently abdicated all its responsibilities with no other ideas past “um”. If only she could handle her nerves like Captain Never-Smiles was handling her.
His pupil expanded, the blackness engulfing all the gemstones and gold. He released his grip on her arm, but instead of moving back, he lifted his paw to her hair. The blond strands had settled around her shoulders, just barely holding onto a hint of curl from the previous hours trapped in clips. Slowly, he twined a fingertip into one falling spiral, lightly tugging it back so she raised her chin to relieve the slight pressure.
A shallow breath caught in her exposed throat. “Captain…” she whispered.
Abruptly, he straightened, not just looming over her butlooooomingover her.
She hadn’t realized she always stood a bit away from him—they all did—to try to take the edge off the imposing size of him. But in this little alcove that wasn’t an option.
And he was blocking her in, all ridiculously broad shoulders and wide chest and thick thighs…
To repeat, ummm.
“Why are you hiding here?” In the confined space, his low voice rumbled through her like thunder.
“I’m…” She shook her head, trying to jostle her scattered brain back into focus mode. “I wasn’t. Hiding. I just needed to…”
When she trailed off, he shoved the datpad into her hands. “You dropped this.”
She was all sorts of frazzled around him. And while he wasn’t her big boss, he was her immediate boss. Struggling to regain some composure, she announced, “I was on my way to the main hatch to greet our guests. I just…needed a moment.”
“To breathe? You do that often.”
She sucked in half a gasp before she could stop herself. Had he been watching her? And judging? “Is there something wrong with breathing? As far as I know, all species currently aboard have compatible respiratory needs.”
