Pirate's Gold - S.J. Sanders Page 0,12

of space.

Unable to deny her observation, he grunted, his arms tightening around her small body. Her limbs and body had thickened to a healthier state after a few standard lunar cycles passed. She was still tiny compared to his species and most others out there, but no matter how large or small she was, it did not matter. She was entirely his. He needed nothing else. That said, the ship was hers—and he was tired of these males encroaching on his mate’s space.

“You should permit me to jettison them. It will give me some pleasure to be free of them and allow my mate to walk her own ship in peace.”

“My ship?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

He chuffed at her surprised expression. “I have told you. Argurma females are the right of lineage and the property owners. Upon our mating, all my belongings become yours, except those which are most personal and necessary for my wellbeing as a warrior.”

She shifted against him excitedly. “That means I can name her.”

He frowned down at Terri. “Name the ship? It does not need a name. It is a serial number. That is adequate identification for a starship.”

Terri rolled her eyes at him. “That’s boring, and I can never remember that random spew of numbers. Don’t worry. Leave it to me. I’ll think of something good.”

She lay there beside him, tapping her fingertip to her chin as she began listing absurd names, each one more terrible than the last.

“How can you not like The Screaming Lady?” she protested after the tenth suggestion, her fingers tracing the scales on his chest. “We both know that when we don’t have company, there’s a lot of screaming that goes on in here. It would be a very good name.”

Veral did not miss the sexual reference and curled his fingers around her questing hand. “No. As much truth as your observation contains, the name is undignified.”

“So you want a dignified name, then?”

“I do.”

“Okay. I’ll give it some thought,” she said with a long-suffering sigh that made his lips quirk.

“Now that is settled, about the airlock—”

“No!” Terri laughed as she smacked him ineffectively with a pillow.

Snarling, Veral curled over his mate, pressing her small body into the bedding. His muscles trembled, eager to attempt to convince her otherwise. As his civix slid into her hot clutch, he groaned. He rocked into her with abandon, her soft sighs and moans mixing with his growls until they both shouted their completion again and again.

Though her answer did not change, they both enjoyed his attempts to alter them. He looked forward to trying to convince her many more times over the next eighteen standard hours.

4

Made of a thick, durable material used by Argurma when they had to move across vast deserts on their homeworld, the shafna was always uncomfortable. Although Veral hadn’t been home in years, the first time he had Terri wear it, he had been pleased that he kept the enormous hooded overcoat. She could have done without it, but since it allowed her to leave their room despite the company on board, she couldn’t hate it too much. Especially not with the bright gems that their passengers had been carrying, samples of a larger collection being gifted to the Grez’na prince for his betrothal—whatever the hell that was. The word was used in some of the older books from Earth, but she didn’t know what it meant. All the same, having to wear it when she wanted to leave their quarters was a good enough deterrent to keep her away from the strangers.

Until now.

Three days in their cabin and Terri felt like she was on the verge of going mad staring at the same four walls. During the day, Krono kept her company, curled up at the foot of the bed, only to be released to prowl the corridors so that Veral could slide into bed next to her at night. At first, she had worried that one of the Blaithari would be hurt by the protective dorashnal. When she voiced her concerns to Veral, he had smirked without sympathy but assured her that their guests knew not to leave their quarters during the night cycle. He even set an alarm that went out over the ship every night at the start of the cycle so that everyone knew to return to their cabins.

Not that Krono was entirely cooperative about the matter, as accustomed as he was to being with them at all times. He was eager to scout through