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“MARRY ME.” JIMMY SLURRED the words and reached across the bar’s translucent gray counter.
Ricka took a step back, barely missing his grasp. She winced when he slumped over and smacked his head against the hard surface, knocking over his empty beer glass. Poor guy is going to have one heck of a headache and probably some bruising.
He wasn’t a threat, and she wasn’t angry. She actually felt bad for him. He’d arrived on Rivean less than six months ago, and the lonely miner’s existence was already getting to him. “Jimmy.” She poked his shoulder. “You okay?”
He moaned but didn’t move.
“Oh shit.” His friend Hank jumped out of a chair from one of the nearby tables and rushed up to the bar. He gave her an apologetic look. “Sorry. I think he’s had too much to drink. Again.” Grabbing a handful of Jimmy’s shirt, he pulled him to his feet and hooked a limp arm over his shoulder.
Jimmy lifted his head. “Did she say yes?”
“No, bud. Come on, let’s get your sorry ass home,” Hank said.
“Do you want me to get the door for you?” Ricka asked.
“No, I’ve got it.” Hank took a few steps back and banged into a table, then stumbled a few times before he was able to stagger out the exit.
If she was paid for every marriage proposal she received in a week, she’d already have enough rivets to buy a one-way ticket back home. To Earth.
If everything went according to plan, she only had four more months of being ogled and groped in this run-down excuse for a bar before she reached her goal.
She’d been twelve when her mother died and her father decided to leave Earth and pursue an engineering career with the Rivean Mining Corporation. Life on the colony had been different, an adventure. An adventure that changed a year ago when her father had suffered a heart attack and died. According to the company’s legal representative, Brad Daniels’s death was six years short of his twenty-year contract, which meant she wouldn’t receive a single payout that would have been due on his retirement. Not unless she wanted to work in the mines and fulfill his commitment. Being claustrophobic, there was no way she could spend five minutes underground, let alone be willing to do it for several years.
She’d politely refused the job and been informed she had two days to vacate the company-owned housing. Thank God for Libby. If her friend hadn’t taken her in and convinced Orum, the Nexus Pub’s owner, to give her the bartender’s job, she wasn’t sure what she would have done.
Other than a handful of families, the planet was populated predominantly by men. With the scarcity of women, the colony officials had deemed it wise to create establishments catering to the sexual needs of the general populace. The pleasure houses, as the locals called them, had offered the only other jobs available.
As sleazy as her boss might be, this job beat making a living on her back or doing whatever kind of kinky things a few of the locals liked. She’d leave those exploits to the Ryhlarians, the alien women imported from the planet Ryhlara and schooled in the arts of sexually pleasing a man.
Ricka grabbed Jimmy’s discarded glass and swiped a damp cloth over the counter. Business was slow for the middle of the week, and fewer than ten miners from the late-night shift change occupied a couple of the tables. Most of the regulars had already returned home for the evening.
Libby sidled up to the bar and set her serving tray on the counter as she slid onto an empty stool. “I know we need the tips to get off this forsaken planet, but if the new guy on Marty’s crew smacks my ass one more time, I swear I’m going to hit him over the head with my tray.” She scowled at the man over her shoulder.
Ricka smiled at her kindhearted friend, knowing she would never carry out her threat. She, on the other hand, had no problem dealing with men who got out of hand and could be real jerks. As soon as she’d reached the age where guys paid attention, her father had made sure to teach her how to use a variety of weapons and the best ways to cause injury to defend herself. “You want me to talk to him?”
“No. They’re done ordering, and I’ll wait until they leave to clear away the glasses.” Libby tapped the counter. “I almost forgot. The guy in the back wants another dreva.”
Ricka finished wiping off the counter and tossed the damp cloth in the sink underneath. “Damn, that’s his third one tonight. I’m surprised he hasn’t toppled over yet.” A few sips of the potent ale could strip the lining from a person’s stomach. Since the bar was located in an area away from the main business district, they usually got only local traffic. Occasionally, they’d get nonhuman visitors, and any of them who ordered the drink usually staggered after having one shot.
She turned toward the mirrored wall behind her and snatched a tall square black bottle off the shelf. After pouring the dark blue liquid into a tall glass, she set it on the tray.
“I know. It doesn’t seem to bother him.” Libby shrugged and pushed a loose blonde curl behind her ear. “Maybe he comes from a planet where they have a higher tolerance.”
“Yeah, maybe,” she said, glancing at the man sitting by himself at the back of the bar.
Libby leaned closer and kept her voice low. “Well, wherever he’s from, they sure know how to put a guy together in all the right places. And those unusual eyes, they’re so...”
“Intoxicating,” Ricka said and peered in his direction, then turned back to her friend when she caught him staring at her.
“So you have been looking.”
Yeah, she’d been watching, all right. From the moment he entered the room, she hadn’t been able to stop sneaking glimpses at his utterly handsome physique. He was impressively large, ripped, and extremely sexy. His catlike eyes entranced her. They were an extraordinary shade of blue-green. There were also interesting black markings starting along the left side of his neck and disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt. More than once, she’d wondered how much more of his body was covered with them.
Dark hair the color of shiny obsidian draped across a set of broad shoulders, a nice contrast to the lighter shade of his snug-fitting pants and boots. To top it off, his long overcoat hit the middle of some thick and well-defined thighs. He reminded her of a badass outlaw from one of the romance novels Libby was always loaning her. “I might be avoiding men at the moment, but it doesn’t mean I don’t take notice when someone so amazingly attractive comes in here.”
Looking at him made her warm in places that hadn’t seen a man’s touch in a very long time. She’d had plenty of offers but hadn’t been interested in making the colony her permanent home. She’d be leaving with Libby for good soon, and it was easier to reject all advances than deal with the complications resulting from any kind of relationship.
Libby glimpsed over her shoulder. “There’s definitely some interest there. He hasn’t stopped staring at you since he got here.”
Tell me something I don’t know. The gorgeous stranger had taken a seat far away from everyone else. She’d felt his mesmerizing gaze on her ever since. It was unnerving the way his heated stares sent quivers along her skin.
Libby tapped her arm. “I say you go for it. He’s an offworlder, so technically you wouldn’t be breaking any of your rules. One night with him and you’d probably be good for another year. And you got your shots last month, so you don’t have to worry about picking up any strange diseases or getting an unwanted surprise in nine months.”
Good point, but still not going there. The colony had a strict “no children unless authorized” policy, and getting the mandatory annual birth control injections was heavily enforced. All women, including those who didn’t work for the pleasure houses, were also required to get a shot to prevent any number of sexually transmitted diseases.
More reasons on a very long list of why Ricka wanted to get off the planet. She was tired of her life being controlled by others.
Libby wiggled her eyebrows and licked her lips. “Heck, I might even be tempted to go for it myself, if he showed me any interest.”
Laughing, Ricka snapped the cloth at her friend. “Jeez. Stop already.” She wasn’t the only one to suffer loss. Libby had arrived on the planet almost two years ago after volunteering to participate in the colony’s bride program. She’d come here all alone to marry a man she’d spoken to only a few times via virtucom from Earth.
Six months later, she’d ended up a widow when her husband was killed in a freak mining accident. Trey’s death had hit her friend hard, so to hear her joke about having an interest in another man was progress as far as Ricka was concerned.
“I appreciate you intervening on behalf of my sex life, but I’m good.” Ricka snatched two empty shot glasses off the counter and set them in the sink.
Libby shrugged. “Sure you are.”
The heavy wooden door at the front of the building opened and banged against the wall. Both women jumped, their attention drawn to the new arrival.
Ricka frowned at the man standing in the doorway. Fuck. Just when she thought the evening might end without incident, a Klorthon had to show up and ruin it. They were so-called warriors and meaner than hell. Luckily, the colony didn’t offer much to draw their attention. Those who did visit usually ended up in one of the pleasure houses. It surprised her to see one here alone. The two other times some of them made it to the bar; they’d arrived in a small group.
Unlike her stranger, the man’s massive size was intimidating. He was nothing close to handsome—more like scary, with overly defined cheekbones and a narrow chin. His skin was a pale orange, and his long, shoulder-length hair was a dull shade of bleached-out white. He wore a light-brown leather vest across a set of huge abs, and his leather pants barely constrained long, well-muscled legs.
Ricka caught a movement to her right. Orum, who’d been sitting at the end of the bar for most of the evening nursing a drink, quickly slid his overweight body off the stool and ducked down the hallway leading to the back of the building. She had a feeling the coward was going to lock himself in his office until the Klorthon left.
The four guys sitting at the table closest to the door shifted in their seats and appeared as if they were ready to make a hasty exit. Libby nervously watched the huge man stride toward the bar. Ricka wanted her friend as far away from him as possible. “Why don’t you take care of your customer. I’ve got this.”
“Are you sure?” Libby’s hands shook as she picked up the tray.
“Yeah. Now go.”
Libby nodded and hastened away. The Klorthon ignored the tables and straddled the stool across from Ricka. He propped his elbows on the counter and leaned forward. Lust-filled silver eyes raked over her body and stopped when they reached her breasts. Ricka swallowed back the knot of revulsion rising in her throat and forced a fake smile. “What can I get for you?”
Smirking, he swiped a dark-purple tongue across his lower teeth. He slapped a universal scan card on the bar. The amount on the miniature screen was the equivalent of twenty Earth dollars. “I want you to share my bed for the night.”
She flinched and gripped the towel she’d been holding with a choke hold. Could the asshole be any more insulting? The translation implant she’d received when she’d arrived on the colony had a ninety-seven percent accuracy rate for translating most alien languages. She had no doubt she’d heard him correctly. “Sorry, pal, I don’t screw the customers. What you’re looking for is at the pleasure house down the street.”
His eyes narrowed, and his lips twisted into a thin line. “It wasn’t a request.” He grabbed her wrist in a movement so fast, she didn’t have time to react. “I think I will enjoy taming your smart mouth.” He dug his fingers into her flesh and yanked her forward, slamming her ribs against the edge of the counter.
Pain radiated along her side, and she tried not to cry out. “Let go of me, you son of a bitch.” A chair scraping the floor and movement behind the warrior drew her attention. Klorthons scared pretty much everyone, including her, so she was surprised to see Marty, one of the older miners, getting out of his chair.
She’d known him a long time. He was a good guy and had been one of her father’s closest friends. The alien easily outmatched him. There was no way she’d let him risk his life for her. Furrowing her brow, she met his gaze and gave her head a slight shake, a warning not to interfere. She inwardly sighed when he sank slowly back down in his seat.
The warrior’s grip tightened, and he pressed his head against her cheek. “I like your spirit.”
She lacked the strength to break free and knew he’d probably break her bones if she continued to struggle. Taking a few deep breaths, she tamped down her fear and forced her body to relax. She lowered her head in a submissive manner. “I’m sorry. Why don’t you let me fix you a drink?”
“The only thing I want to taste is you.” He swiped his tongue along her cheek.
Eww. The overwhelming urge to heave her lunch and struggle hit her at the same time. If she had any hope of getting away from him, she needed a distraction. Arching her back, she revealed more of her breasts, drawing his attention to her chest. Yeah, you keep staring at the goods, asshole. She slid her free hand underneath the back of her shirt until she found the handle of a four-inch dagger hidden inside a leather sheath.
Since the bar wasn’t exactly in a great area of the city, she’d learned early on not to take any chances. Most of the miners knew better than to mess with her, but there was always someone among the new arrivals who liked to push their advances. Especially after they’d had too much to drink. A month after she took the job, she’d hidden a repeater under the counter. Right now, it was too far away to reach. Otherwise, she’d enjoy blasting the warrior off his seat.
Yanking out the knife in one swift motion, she pressed the blade against his neck. She gritted her teeth. “I said, get your hands off me.”
“You think to threaten me with this tiny piece of metal?”
Ricka twisted her wrist enough for the sharp edge to cause a small amount of blood to trickle down his skin. “It’s not a threat. You can let go of my arm or bleed out on the floor after I slice your throat. Your choice.”
“I would do as she asks.” A gruff male voice interrupted.
The Klorthon jerked his head to the left, shock flashing across his angered expression. He made a noise similar to a growl and bared his teeth.
Without taking her eyes off the threat in front of her, she quickly glanced to the side and noticed the mysterious stranger was now standing. One side of his long overcoat was flipped away from his hip, revealing a holstered weapon.
Ricka could have sworn she’d seen some sort of recognition pass across the warrior’s face as the two men glared at each other. Neither man moved. The tension in the room seemed to last forever, when in reality, it had been only a couple of minutes.
The Klorthon reluctantly released her wrist, then threw back his head and laughed. “My apologies. I did not mean to offend.”
Like hell he didn’t. Ricka shoved away from the bar and out of his reach.
The warrior slapped the counter. “Pour me a tall ale.”
Her rescuer returned to his seat, though his attention remained on the man in front of her. She wasn’t sure if the danger had passed, so she placed the blade on the shelf behind her. Libby stood about five feet away from the handsome man’s table, clutching her tray to her chest. She hoped her friend had enough sense to stay there until the Klorthon left.
“Sure.” Ricka reached for a bottle and glass, then poured the drink. She set it on the edge of the bar, careful not to get too close.
Tilting back his head, the Klorthon downed the amber liquid in a single swallow and smacked the glass on the counter. He slid off the stool, reached into his pocket, and tossed several rivets in her direction. “I will do as you suggest and seek my pleasure elsewhere,” he said, pocketing the card he’d dropped earlier and heading for the exit.
Ricka wasn’t sure if the comment was meant for her or the other man’s benefit—and she didn’t care. His departure was what mattered. She puffed in relief and rubbed her sore wrist, noting the already forming bruises.
Libby rushed behind the bar, dropped the tray, and pulled her into a hug. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she lied, and gripped the edge of the counter to steady her raw nerves.
A few seconds later, Marty moved in next to her. Worry etched the wrinkles near his graying temples. “Damn, kiddo. When I bought you the knife, I never thought you’d try to take on a warrior with it.”
“He’s right,” Libby scolded. “What were you thinking? That was either the stupidest or the bravest thing I’ve ever seen you do.”
Trust her, the thought had already crossed her mind. “Definitely not one of my smarter moves.” Ricka grabbed a clean glass and another bottle. Her hand still shook a little, and some of the liquid spilled over the rim. She drained the shot, wincing at the burn in her throat. Orum can go screw himself if he thinks I’m paying for this. I fucking earned it.
“It’s a good thing the Tarron was here,” Marty said.
“Tarron? You mean the guy is a hunter?” She’d heard stories about them but had never actually seen one before.
“Yep. Quadrant enforcement. They tend to stay clear of us since the patrol polices the colony. I’ve only seen a few of them over the years. Real tough bastards. Only someone with a death wish would mess with one.”
Ricka tried not to think about what could have happened if he hadn’t been there.
“You still look pale. You gonna be okay? We have another long shift tonight, and I need to get these young pups home, but I’ll stay if you need me.”
She appreciated his concern. “I’m good.”
“If you’re sure.”
“Positive. Now go. Stop hovering,” Ricka said.
As soon as the door closed, Libby asked, her tone fearful, “Do you think he’ll be back?”
“I’m sure he’s already found someone to keep him busy for the night.” She hoped she sounded convincing. “As long as the hunter is here, we shouldn’t have anything to worry about.” Ricka peered past her friend to where the hunter sat staring at her from his table, praying she was right and hoping he planned to stay a little longer.
“I guess you’re right.” Libby seemed to relax a little.
She checked the computerized clock on the wall. Forty more minutes until they could close and go home. “Why don’t you let the other table know it’s last call for drinks, and I’ll start cleaning up.”
#
AFTER TWO WASTED MONTHS patrolling this area of the quadrant, Synge Varlik was looking forward to a little relaxation and rest. He’d picked up the trail for the slaver’s ship a week ago, only to lose it again near the Rivean colony. If he hadn’t needed to refuel his shuttle, he’d have bypassed the outpost and headed home to Tarron.
Right now all he wanted was a few drinks, a meal not stored in a pouch, and to get laid. And he wasn’t particular about the order.
Not much for social niceties and not in the mood to deal with the colony locals, he’d taken a seat at one of the small round tables in a shadowed corner of the bar. He sat with his back to the wall and his attention on the door. If he’d learned anything as a hunter, it was to always be alert and wary of his surroundings.
He took a swig of the blue liquid, enjoying the sharp taste and heat burning a path down his throat. The fire coursing through his veins had nothing to do with his drink and everything to do with the woman standing behind the bar. He’d overheard the blonde waitress call her Ricka. The unique name fit the exotically beautiful human female. Her rich auburn hair intrigued him. The lustrous strands reminded him of the early morning skies over his home world. She had fastened the long lengths at her nape, and he tried to imagine how they’d appear draped over her shoulders. A few shorter wisps framed her face and enhanced the depths of her dark eyes.
The front of her shirt dipped low enough to expose the curve of full breasts. The sight would make any man’s groin ache. And his had been painfully tight for the entire hour he’d spent observing her. The condition only worsened every time he caught a glimpse of her exceptional ass when she bent over to do something under the counter.
His reaction to the woman was unexpected. He’d even caught himself growling when one of the male patrons teased her and tried to coax her into his bed, then been relieved when she’d laughed and politely refused the offer.
Too bad he wasn’t going to be on the planet for more than a few hours; otherwise, he’d spare no effort to tempt her into spending an evening with him. He was certain she’d be well worth his trouble.
Originally, he’d planned to finish off a few drinks and head down the street to find a pleasure female to spend a few hours with before heading back to his ship and returning home. Everything changed when he recognized the Klorthon who entered the bar. He’d had run-ins with the deadly warrior in the past and had heard rumors Molock might be involved with the slavers.
The man’s arrival on the colony at the same time Synge had lost track of the slaving ship seemed like too much of a coincidence to overlook. He decided to stay and see if the twinge gnawing at his gut had any substance.
Molock headed straight for the bar, his silvery eyes lit with desire as he raked his gaze over Ricka’s beautiful form. Synge reined in another snarl. What was wrong with him? Why was he having such a possessive reaction any time another man got near her? Maybe traveling too long without sharing sex with a woman was finally getting to him.
The petite waitress, the one who’d told him her name was Libby, appeared at his side. Because of the animalistic side of his genetics, he was equipped with heightened senses and could smell her fear.
“Here you go.” Her hand shook, and she nearly spilled the drink when she set it on the table. She took a step back and clutched the tray tightly to her chest, frantic about the interaction between Molock and the other woman.
When the Klorthon grabbed Ricka’s wrist and yanked her against the bar, Libby jumped and tugged on his arm. “Do something, please.”
She could have saved her breath. He had no intention of allowing anyone to hurt the woman behind the bar. His chair dropped to the floor as he shoved away from the table and reached for the laser repeater holstered against his hip. Before he could retrieve his weapon, Ricka pulled a knife from under her shirt and shoved it against the warrior’s throat.
What does she think she’s doing? He admired her bravery but wondered if she realized how foolish it was to attack the warrior. Molock could easily snap her wrist and kill her with very little exertion. His kind viewed all women, including the ones on their own planet, as nothing more than passive beings—objects to do their bidding and provide sexual pleasure, willing or otherwise.
Because of their small size, human females were frailer than most. Their numbers were limited in the outpost regions. They were considered rare gems, thus making them highly coveted. The fact that they were also compatible breeders to many species, including his, made them even more valuable. He had no doubt that if Molock was doing business with the slavers, then he’d want Ricka. Her beauty and spirit would bring a very high price from a wealthy buyer.
The minute he interfered, Molock recognized him and pinned him with an intense glare. Synge kept the weapon aimed at his chest, daring him to make a wrong move. Being an excellent shot, he could shoot from this distance without harming the woman. He was disappointed, though not surprised, when Molock released Ricka.
The Klorthon might have made a display of publicly relenting, but Synge doubted his intentions. Ricka had unknowingly challenged and humiliated him. Synge had seen the other man’s determined expression and knew he’d staked a claim on the human female. Warriors were never forgiving. At some point soon, Molock would retaliate and make her pay. A payment he would more than likely exact by ravaging her body, if not killing her outright.
The atmosphere in the room remained tense. No one moved until the warrior finished his drink and left.
Libby gripped his sleeve. “Oh my God, thank you.” She swiped at the tears trickling down her cheeks and rushed toward the bar.
Tucking his weapon away, he picked up his chair and returned to his seat. He tossed down his drink, his attention focused on Ricka. She might want her friends to believe she’d been unaffected by the ordeal, but he’d seen the way her hands trembled. He resisted the temptation to go to her and offer consolation. Another reaction contrary to his nature. Instead, he remained seated and regarded her interaction with the waitress and the older man.
Synge’s thoughts returned to Molock. He needed to track him and find out his true reason for visiting the colony. He dug in his pocket, retrieved some coins, and tossed them on the table.
His curiosity was piqued when Ricka approached him and placed a dreva in front of him. He quirked an eyebrow. “I didn’t order another drink.”
“On the house. I wanted to say thank you for helping with that asshole.” She rubbed her wrist.
“Your appreciation is not necessary. I did not do much.”
“Maybe, maybe not, but thanks anyway. If you hadn’t been here...”
So she does realize the danger of her actions. He took her hand before she could walk away. “Are you hurt?” He gently ran his fingers over the bruises on her wrist and her hand quivered. Her immediate arousal teased his nostrils, taunting him. The unusual scent was sweet and reminded him of the teirla blossoms growing wild on the land surrounding his property. He fought the desire to pull her onto his lap and sample a taste of her full lips. “You should have someone at medical examine it to be sure.”
Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t pull away when he continued to stroke her skin. “I appreciate your concern. I’m sure it’s fine.”
He’d love nothing more than to stay and see her safely home with the hope of tempting her into bed. Too bad his duties came first and following Molock was now his priority. He released her hand and got to his feet. “Be careful when you leave. Klorthons are not known to have a forgiving nature.” Taking a step closer, he inhaled deeply, imprinting her amazing smell on his memory. He downed the remaining drink, then turned to leave the bar.
