Tamed By the Alien Pirate by Celia Kyle Page 0,3

report here at your earliest convenience.”

Lamira giggles and pats Grantian on the chest.

“You got me in trouble.”

“I got you in trouble? You kissed me first—”

They continue to banter as they head up the corridor, and after a moment, Thrase and I follow.

“Finally. Perhaps now something of interest will actually happen.”

She walks ahead of me, and I shamefully admit my eyes are focused on her rounded rear when I respond.

“Yes, perhaps we will get to the, ah, bottom of things.”

Don’t I wish.

Chapter Two

Thrase

Perhaps I am not the social butterfly that Lamira is, but I’m no stranger to the dating game. As I accompany Zander to the bridge, I can’t help but think back to the men I dated before my capture and cryogenic incarceration upon the much-ballyhooed Frontier.

Were they intelligent? Of course they were. Were they handsome? Most of them—I’m not without an aesthetic sense, after all. Were they successful? Each and every one.

But they didn’t have one iota, not one micron, of the passion I saw on display in the corridor between Lamira and Grantian. Most of them took all night to work up the courage to peck me on the cheek good night. And the few times the night led to sweaty encounters in a dimly lit dorm room, well… let’s just say the experience was underwhelming and left me by and large limp.

So yes, I was a bit envious of their display, which perhaps is why there was so much venom in my tone when I spoke to Zander. I’ve gone and upset him, too, I can tell. That’s most unfortunate because out of all the tall, powerfully built golden-skinned Kilgari—all of whom are undeniably gorgeous—he is the only one who I might be attracted to.

Might be? I’m indulging in my penchant for understatement once again. I’m strongly attracted to him, and not for the reasons you might think. Well, perhaps for some of those reasons, but mostly because, like me, he’s a sapient who is deeply entrenched in science. We’ve had several discussions about the behavior of subatomic particles and the likely effect of super luminal travel upon them, which were most engrossing, but unbearably brief.

Perhaps I would be more confident in pursuing intellectual exchanges with Zander if not for my own inexpert handling of interpersonal communication. Despite what Ilya or Fiona might say about me, I don’t actually go out of my way to sound like a know it all, nor do I consider myself the smartest person in any given room.

But I have a very hard time—border line compulsive, really—not correcting people when they’re wrong. It’s something I’ve struggled with for a very long time, as long as I can remember.

I once had a professor who said I was overcompensating with my “miss smarty pants” demeanor because my parents were not academic professionals. In point of fact, they worked in the food service industry. Their little café in the Groenig district on Mars turned a tidy profit, enough that they could easily afford to put me through school, but they weren’t billionaires who owned an entire franchise, either.

Perhaps that was good enough for them. I certainly never felt a desire to accumulate vast amounts of wealth. I just wanted a chance to put my intellect to work—no arrogance, just stating a fact.

Lately, however, I’ve begun to wonder if academic excellence and being at the top of my field would be enough. It all happened right about the time I first laid eyes on Zander. He didn’t even notice me at first. He was so busy dressing down one of his technicians who hadn’t made an adjustment to his exacting specifications.

But I instantly recognized a kindred spirit, someone who demands perfection of themselves and tries to bring it out of those around him. Maybe that’s why I can’t stand not correcting people. I don’t really want to be the smartest one in the room. I want everyone else to be on the same page as I am.

Which means I probably should be better at communication, but I’ve tried—I’ve honestly tried. I don’t mean to be off-putting, but I just wind up putting my foot in my mouth sooner or later. This had made me wary of having conversations in the first place, which by proxy lowers my chance of gaining experience from them.

A vicious circle, but only a minor inconvenience until recently. I’ve been trying to figure out how to talk to Zander, or at least make myself less offensive so he’ll talk to me more.

On