Pirate's Gold - S.J. Sanders Page 0,7

is behind me, and I do not have the time or inclination to backtrack many days to transport you. You can repair your ship and continue on to Zarcruga from Janilik. Your business on Zarcruga is no concern of mine.”

The male looked around at the males nearest him as if seeking some support. Veral’s lips quirked as he took note that not one of them took their master’s side against him. The male wilted as he faced Veral once more.

“We are left with no choice. Our life support systems barely have enough power and are in rapid decline. We do not have the power to send a long-rage comm. It is only fortunate that we managed to bring our ship to a stop when the thrusters went offline rather than sail beyond the regular trade routes. There are only five of us who require lodgings upon your ship…”

“No!” Veral snarled, his vibrissae instinctively moving so viciously that the male in the screen stared at him with stunned horror. Although it was near useless since the male was not close enough to get further readings on, the overall result through the comm was at least satisfying.

He would permit no strangers upon his ship!

“But… our life support. We only have a few galactic standard hours left at most before it is completely gone. The ship is already miserably cold with the failing systems. How would you expect us to survive?”

Veral hissed in frustration. He wanted to tell the male that his capability for sustaining life was not his responsibility… but he also knew that Terri would not approve if he let the male freeze to death or asphyxiate when the life support failed. There was a good chance that she might not find out. Yet there was an equal probability that she would learn of it. If she learned of it, she would be extremely displeased that someone actually died. Maybe if he tried to explain to her that it was for her safety…

“Salvager, I really must insist…” the male interrupted, his chest puffing out in a show of bravado before his crew.

Veral glared at the male. “I am considering my options. Be silent.”

“Options?” the noble squeaked. He instantly deflated, his gold eyes widening to a ridiculous proportion.

Veral’s mandibles opened wide and returned to their resting position as he turned the matter over in his mind. He was aware of the way the male seemed to watch every movement.

No. Terri would not accept any excuse for the deaths of the Blaithari. He would have to allow them to board.

Rules. There would be many rules.

“Very well,” he snarled, his mandibles snapping loud enough to make every male in the viewscreen jump. “Prepare to dock with the salvager. Once you enter the cargo hold, do not venture into the ship without permission. I will meet with you there shortly.”

“Yes, of course,” the male said quickly.

Veral did not wait for any other needless conversation. He terminated the comm signal and left the flight deck. The Blaitharis could wait until after he spoke to Terri. She was not going to like what he was about to propose.

It took him considerably less time than his mate to stride down the corridors to their room, his mind interfacing with the ship to unlock the doors minutes before his arrival. They slid open at his approach, and Veral purred as his mate looked up from where she lay stretched over the bed. She wore soft, loose clothes that clung to every curve, the line of her breast enticing him. His purr became louder, and Terri’s brows drew up as she trailed a teasing hand down her belly. Although he did not arrive with copulation on his mind, his desire surged to the fore at the sight that greeted him.

Aggression stirred within him at the thought of the males close by—too close to his private dwelling where he and his mate slept. He was filled with an instinctive drive to fill the ship with the stink of their pheromones so the males had no doubt as to whose territory they were in.

“What happened?” Terri asked, her voice soft with concern.

“Stranded travelers,” he grunted as he drew nearer to her.

Dropping down onto the bed beside her, he nuzzled her soft hair, his vibrissae twining through the strands. A hand stole up her belly, brushing her fingers out of his path as he leaned into his mate, his desire roaring. His civix—or cock as his mate called it—strained against its fleshy pouch,