entered their quarters. Joan had not yet returned, and he was about to go to the kitchen to meet her when the communication panel chimed.
With a frown, he opened the vid link, then blinked when he saw the Elginar who had taken over the Derian ship while Varga went after Joan.
“Manam. I did not expect to hear from you again.”
“I wasn’t planning to contact you, but…” The Elginar frowned and rubbed his head, and Varga realized that the other male was letting his hair grow out to cover his tattooed scalp.
“But?” he urged.
“It took several trips to return the other slaves to their desired destinations. There’s not a lot to do while we’re in space so I started digging deeper into the logs.” Troubled blue eyes looked back at him. “There are more.”
“More?”
“More human females. It looks as though some of the Derians have been picking up a female or two each trip for some time—and I think they are getting bolder.”
Fuck. He hated the idea of more females subject to the horrors of slavery, but he wasn’t sure what one person could do.
“What are you going to do?” Manam asked, echoing his thoughts.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Do you know where any of them are now?”
“Not yet. I will continue to search—the puzzle intrigues me—but once I find them…” Manam shrugged. “I’m not the hero type.”
“I’m not either.” But despite his denial, the notion had an unexpected appeal. It certainly sounded more exciting than monitoring an empty snow-covered plain or making sure that ridiculously wealthy people didn’t suffer from their own stupidity. But Joan was happy here and he couldn’t take that away from her. “Please let me know when you find out more.”
“I will.” Manam signed off, but Varga sat staring at the blank screen until Joan came home. She was carrying George—the lizard frequently kept her company in the kitchen—and as soon as Joan put the little creature down, she headed for her basket by the heater with a sleepy chirp.
“I think these late nights are too much for George,” Joan laughed as she came to join him. “You’re looking thoughtful. Is something wrong?”
“No, just thinking. How was dinner?”
“Long,” she sighed. “Tiring.”
“Would you like me to run you a bath?”
“Not that kind of tiring. It’s more… restlessness. I’m too wound up to sleep.”
She gave him a provocative look, and his cock immediately hardened. “Perhaps I can assist?”
“Only if you can catch me.”
She darted off towards the bedroom, and he let her get halfway there before he caught her, throwing her over his shoulder as she squealed with laughter. He gave a firm smack to her luscious ass and felt her quiver with excitement as the sweet scent of her arousal filled the air.
He carried her into the bedroom and proceeded to make sure that she would have absolutely no trouble sleeping.
The next evening, Joan made one last check of the gleaming kitchen and headed for the door. The restlessness was still haunting her. Last night had been wonderful, and no doubt tonight would be as well, but she had to face the truth.
She walked through the silent resort back to their rooms. Gleaming stone floors stretched to wide windows looking out over the breath-taking views. Beautiful, tasteful furniture formed cozy little nooks, empty at this time of night. Despite the carefully maintained temperature, she shivered.
The lights were off when she entered their quarters. George was already asleep in her basket, but Varga was awake, sitting in a chair by the window and staring out over the snowy plain. She went and joined him, climbing into his lap with a contented sigh. She would never get tired of being in his arms.
“You’re very quiet tonight,” he said, running his fingers through her hair.
“I don’t want to do this anymore,” she burst out.
His skin hardened beneath her. “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice strained.
“This job,” she said quickly. “I don’t want to do it anymore.”
He sighed, and his body relaxed. “I thought you enjoyed cooking.”
“I do. I like making food for the people I care about. And coming up with the menu and the recipes was fun. But I don’t want to be in a kitchen every night, worrying about whether people like their food. I’ve been doing that for most of my adult life. I want to go different places, see different things.”
“You are no longer worried about being able to take care of yourself?”
She shook her head. “No. I still have most of the credits