Treasured By the Alien Pirate by Celia Kyle Page 0,23

you told me?”

I blink several times in confusion before I respond. “Oh, you want me to…? Okay.” I clear my throat and go into my story a second time. To their credit, no one interrupts me until I reach the end.

“We need to find out as much as we can about this Tartus.” Solair strokes his long fingers across his chin, his gaze distant.

“That’s where Fiona comes in.” Varia turns to the tech expert. “Can you do some digging, including your more… ah… exotic sources?”

“By exotic I assume you mean ‘criminal’ but don’t want to say it out loud.” Fiona chuckles. “You can count on me, Varia.”

I hope she can because if other women besides us are in danger, there isn’t a moment to lose.

Chapter Twelve

Grantian

Normally I’m not the type to sit and pick at my food. But as I sit in the mess hall, surrounded by the noise and tumult of both Kilgari and humanity, I find my appetite a fleeting concern.

It’s not the food. Far from it. Between Jax and Marion, the fare aboard the Queen has seen a recent uptick in quality. I don’t even mind the more specifically Terran dishes that are now frequently served. Neither am I overly bothered by the noise. As loud as the mess hall might seem at times—and it certainly is loud—it’s nothing compared to even a small celebratory gathering of the Hael Hounds. They fight hard… and they play even harder.

Rather than acoustic dissonance, or poorly prepared meals, my absentmindedness is born from the tangled web of feelings I have for Lamira.

The more time I spend around her, the more certain I am she’s my fated mate. I can’t really describe the sensation. I suppose it’s sort of like when a warrior finally finds a class-three hard armor vest that fits properly. There’s no telling what makes it different from the other five that were tried on across a pair of—ahem—exceptionally broad shoulders, it’s simply the right one.

I glance over at the captain’s table, such as it is. Solair doesn’t stand on pretense, so the captain’s table is whatever one he decides to sit down at for the evening. Varia is at his side, and she leans over to whisper in his ear. They both laugh, Solair’s eyes tearing up as he bares his teeth. Must have been a good one.

I wonder how he knew for certain Varia was his mate? And when? But most of all, I want to know how he proceeded from that point forward. Nibbling a bit at my meal, I fritter away the minutes until it becomes more than an hour. The mess hall slowly empties out as everyone returns to duty or heads to quarters for their sleep cycle. I stay seated until only the captain, his mate, and Jax remain.

“What, did you pick up some belly worms from Kyvos?” Raising my gaze upward to meet Jax’s miffed expression, I slowly realize he’s talking about my half-eaten plate.

“No, nothing like that.”

“Then did I stub my toe and add too much yinot flakes?”

I inhale through my nose and let the air out slowly through my mouth, an old meditation technique I learned in the Hael Hounds. Great way to slow your metabolism right before a distance shot. “Your food is fine, as always, Jax. Truly, there are luxury liners where the well-heeled passengers can only dream of such fine cuisine. It beggars the imagination how—”

“Okay, okay.” Jax chuckles and returns to polishing the already gleaming steel tables. “That’s what I get for fishing for compliments.”

At length Varia stands up, kisses Solair passionately, and takes her leave. Our captain continues to sit, apparently finishing up some work on his datapad before he rises.

Seeing my chance, I move over to his side. “Solair. Could I have a word with you, please?”

“Of course, Grantian.” He gestures at the seat recently vacated by his mate. “Sit down, please.”

“Thank you.” I settle my bulk onto the bench-style seat and fold my hands together on the table.

“What’s on your mind? I’m always ready to listen to my first mate.”

“That’s gratifying to know, sir, but I’m afraid my subject matter does not pertain to ship’s business.”

His eyes widen slightly, but his smile remains intact. “I see. I take it this is a personal issue, then? And you don’t have to call me sir. You know I hate formality.”

“I know, s—Solair. Old force of habit from my mercenary days. Yes, it’s personal.” I glance around the empty mess hall suspiciously before I continue.