on. He wanted to kiss the sass off her beautiful face.
That delightful response would have to wait until they were no longer in danger.
“You’re already strapped in, Princess.” He splayed the fingers of his right hand over her cloth-covered stomach, pulling her closer to him. Her pert ass pressed against his body armor-covered cock. The contact stimulated his already hard form. “I’ve got you.”
“One is not available to be got.” She huffed and folded her hands prissily on her lap.
One was asking to be ravished senseless. His lips twitched.
He rubbed his thumb in sensuous circles over her midriff, caressing her, touching her.
The intoxicating scent of her thickened in the air. He breathed the unique aroma in, taking that part of her inside him.
“Concentrate on flying the ship, cyborg.” Some of the sharp edge on her voice had softened.
His female was less perturbed with him. Truth rested his chin on the top of her head.
Valentin, in contrast, looked as though he wanted to kill him. “It’s my role to fly our princess’ ship.” His eyes blazed with anger.
“It’s my role to protect my princess.” Truth reversed the male’s command to block his controls. “In this moment, that task requires flying her ship.”
“Your role isn’t to protect one.” His female was either unaware her triteness aroused him, or she was tormenting him deliberately.
His cock pressed against the confines of his body armor.
“Your role is to—”
“Warning: Incoming Missile.” The freighter’s systems flashed.
Truth had already detected the projectile. He jerked the ship abruptly to the left. The missile whizzed by the vessel’s right side.
“Warning: Incoming Missile.” The inhabitants of Nereid Negative One were persistent.
Truth veered the glorified freighter to the right. “What is my official role?”
“This is not the time to outline roles.” His female’s voice was impressively steady.
Being the target of an aggressive missile bombardment didn’t faze her. She had refused to leave him in the beverage outlet, had calmly faced a chamber filled with hostile, heavily armed warriors.
To react that way, his princess must have an interesting past.
He looked forward to learning about it…once they were out of range of the ground assault.
“Warning: Incoming Missile.” The system relayed that information in its robotic voice. “Warning: Incoming Missile.”
Truth piloted the vessel to the left and to the right, avoiding the attacks. “Tell me my role.” He wanted to process why she needed a mercenary. “I’m a cyborg. I can complete multiple tasks during the same time interval.”
“One prefers you focus on flying the ship.” His female lifted her chin.
“Warning: Incoming Missile. Warn. Warn. Warning: Incoming Missile.” The strikes happened too quickly for the system to relay effectively.
Projectiles shot past them. The safe slivers of space were narrow and few. Navigating them resembled flying through an asteroid belt.
Truth was enjoying it tremendously.
“Oh my. Oh my. Oh my.” Marthe wasn’t finding it as entertaining as he did. The older female clutched her chair’s armrests. Her knuckles whitened.
Claude attempted to return fire. He was unable to compensate for the motion of the freighter. His missiles didn’t connect with their targets. But his efforts caused chaos on the ground, served to slightly distract their enemies.
Valentin stopped trying to lock him out of the system. The male appeared shaken and a little lost. His role had been taken from him.
A tinge of guilt dampened Truth’s joy. “Once we’re out of their range, the ship is yours, Valentin.” He would transfer both of his hands to the impressively calm female perched on his lap.
“That would be…acceptable.” Some of the lines around the male’s mouth flattened. “Carry on.”
“Focus on the missiles, cyborg.” His female’s jaw jutted.
“As you command, my princess.” Truth grinned as he maneuvered the freighter between the incoming missiles. He had more notice and greater space to navigate as the distance between the vessel and the planet increased.
Soon, too quickly for his liking, they moved beyond the reach of the missile launchers and his fun ended. He flew the ship into the darkness of open space. That calmness was anticlimactic after the excitement of the liftoff.
Marthe seemed to embrace the peace. “I thought we were dead.” The older female blew out her breath, slumped against her seat back.
“I did some damage.” Pride edged Claude’s voice. “They’ll think twice about attacking a Royaume ship next time.”
Truth swallowed a laugh. Claude may have more solar cycles than the average human warrior he’d faced, but the male had held onto his zeal for battle.
The two of them would be friends. He was 95.2369 percent about that.
“We are out of range.” Valentin