I pop the circular, salty disc into my mouth. I bite down with a hard crunch. It fractures in my mouth, and I chew cautiously.

It’s delicious. Trust humans to put nearly illegal amounts of salt on a strange fried food, and then sell it—as though they had no idea it was dangerously addictive!

I flip the bag over and scan the title on the front. I read them slowly. “Potato Chips. What’s a potato?”

Mor and I have learned a bit of English in our travels. A lot of humans speak it, and it’s gotten popular. Still, I haven’t learned much about Earth’s cuisine and culture. Sometimes, to learn about a new people, you have to dive in tongue-first. A lot of happy women across the galaxy have introduced me to their cultures and customs, so I know what I’m talking about.

But in the meantime, I’m happy with the taste of these chips. They almost made the six-day trek across space worth it. Jumping from system to system is not easy and can take a toll on the ship. We stole this ship from a Baromenian base several years ago after our first one was melted by a high-intensity laser blast.

It took us three days to infiltrate the base and nab the ship, but it was worth it. Mor named it the “Blue Star.” I think it’s stupid, but I named the last one “The Night Rider,” and it was his turn.

The layout of the Blue Star is mostly standard. The front of the ship is the control center, where the pilot and co-pilot manage all aspects of flying and all its weapons. Then you have the core hub, the safe room for the crew to stay during an attack. It's designed to handle extreme conditions and impacts. There are several rooms for sleeping, and then a holding cell at the back of the entrance near the engine room.

The ship’s attacks have limited strength. But what the Blue Star lacks in in brute strength, it makes up for immensely with speed and precision. The best feature of the Blue Star is under the belly, so to speak—her skipper engine is powerful enough for warp travel. The only ships that handle that are usually big fleet carriers; little ones like ours don’t zip between the folds of space in case they get lost.

The Solar System is the farthest she’s ever been. Luckily, we had a rather smooth journey, with no unfortunate pursuers. The King saw to that, I suspect.

Getting back in will be another story.

My eyes scan the monitor on the screen. It blinks, alerting me that someone is entering the ship.

Well, that went rather quickly. I assumed picking up a bride would take a lot of form-filling and DNA-scanning, but it’s not like I go wife-shopping on a regular basis.

Another notification pops up, letting me know the small cell in the back has been locked down.

That surprises me. I think the only time we’ve ever used it was when I got really drunk and tried to fly the ship straight into Baroma’s capital city, Dovenha. And when Mor tried to stop me, I punched him in the face.

He locked me up in there for a whole day until he was certain I had sobered up completely.

Sure, we’d smuggled a few escaping refugee families out of Centauran space before, but we usually left them in the guest rooms. They’d been imprisoned long enough. Smuggling someone for pay, well, felt different. Kind of dirty.

But it wasn’t like we had a choice. At least this woman had signed up with TerraMates of her own free will. The marriage agencies were sticky about that particular condition, I knew for a fact. I had considered signing up for one myself—until I saw all that red tape. No thank you. I like meeting women the old-fashioned way—by luck and chance, or in a suitably sleazy brothel. I like my ladies prepared for what—and who—is coming to them, not just pampered, bored girls who decide to auction themselves off to some extra-terrestrial husband.

Mor’s heavy boots stomp down the hall as he makes his way back to the control center. He sits down in his chair, wearily letting out a deep sigh. I offer him the bag of chips.

He looks inside of them. “What are these?”

“Chips,” I shake the bag to try and tempt him.

He takes a long sniff. “No, thanks. They smell bland.”

“They are really amazing. Reminds me of the freeze-dried qualoma eggs the street vendors sell. But these are way saltier, and not spicy.”

Mor ignores me, as usual. He starts the engine of the ship. It sputters for a second and then ignites. “What was that?” Mor asks.

“I told you the flex ignition needed to be changed.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did.”

“When?”

“The other day.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” I don’t mention that it was when we were drunk. I’m surprised I can remember that myself. “But it’s fine. It can wait a few days.”

“Orien,” his voice drags out in a whine.

“Mor,” I mock his tone, tilting my head the same way. “How’s the bride?”

“Miserable.”

“Oh really?”

“She’s quite lovely, though,” Mor says under his breath.

I smile, delighted. “Is that so?”

“Indeed. She is feisty. I suspect that if she were to be trained in the arts of combat, she would be very worthy. She is also very muscular. I was impressed by the width of her hips and the dimensions of her breasts and thighs.”

“Ever the soul of romance,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Did you tell her that directly?”

“Yes. She was not impressed. She punched me in the face and told me not to ‘get fresh.’ I assured her I had no intention of doing so and was merely impressed by her appearance. Then I told her she punched well and asked her which quarters she would like to stay in. She tried to kick me, so I informed her that for her own safety, I would be putting her in the holding cell.”

“Mor! You can’t talk to women like that!”

He blinked, somewhat confused. “But I spoke to her the way I would speak to one of my equals. Since she has been sold—”

“No, no, it’s not like that! TerraMates doesn’t—” I sigh. “They aren’t slaves. You can’t talk to her like a slave, all right?”

He sighs and puts a large hand on his forehead. “How awkward.”

“Yeah, no shit. I’ll go smooth things out.” I stand up.

He furrows his brow at me and follows me, turning around. “Don’t go falling in love with her. We don’t need any more reasons for King Ursen to be annoyed with us. Should I get one for you next Day of Birth Celebration?” Mor chuckles.

“No! Three suns. All that paperwork? No, thank you.”

The Blue Star breaks away from the dock on top of the building. I watch out the large window as Eris’s surface grows farther and farther away from us.

“Did you strap her down?” I ask.

Mor nods. “She is set for takeoff. I also used a sedative spray to calm her down.”

I grimace. “Great. She’s going to think we’re kidnapping her. This is why I’m the face-man. Why did I send you to pick her up again?”

Mor raises an eyebrow at me. “It’s not as though you’re a fugitive, Your Highness.”

I bite my tongue. Stupid question. “Alright, engaging thrusters. Hyperdrive is ready when you are.”

Mor nods, looking embarrassed, and avoids my eyes. He’s a fine warrior, but not so much of a good diplomat—although he’s good at reining my crazy ass in.

The ship begins to shake. I give Mor a thumbs-up, and in a matter of seconds, Eris’s thin surface is below us. The force pushes against us, but entering space is no real challenge for the Blue Star.

“Turning gravity on now,” Mor says.

This is the worst part. He flips the switch. The engine room lets out a loud groan as the gravitational pull is engaged. For a moment, the force yanks us down. I adjust myself back into a comfortable position.

“Okay, setting course for Omicron.” My hands slide across the panel of blinking buttons as I enter the coordinates of the cluster, the system, and the planet itself, and we begin our trip back to Omicron.

Everything seems to be going fine for the first few hours. I lean back in the driver’s seat, staring out into space. It’s a wondrous sight, watching the stars and solar systems fly by. Not many get to experience the great vastness of space and travel the way we do.

But Mor and I don’t have much of a choice. We don’t have a real home anymore, not outside this ship and occasionally Vezda.

I scan over the massive screen in front of us. The map shows six days and twenty-one hours are left on the return trek.

I stand up out of the seat and stretch. “Mor?”

“Hm,” he grunts, opening his tired eyes.

I roll my neck and take a deep breath. “How often do we feed her?”

“What?”

“The human.”

He leans forward and rests his square chin in his large hand. He closes his eyes and blinks several times. “Probably when we eat. Her biology is compatible with both yours and mine.”

“Okay, I was just checking.” But I feel stupid. Of course, she’d be compatible. Otherwise, there’d be no point in the king marrying a human.

I lean underneath the control panel and open the customized refrigerator. I find only three bottles of Baromenian beer tucked away. Damn. Why didn’t I pack some more? I try to keep the fridge full, but I guess after being stuck on this ship for six days without any stops, one small container wasn’t going to hold enough beer for two weeks. I should have installed two.

“Mor, have you been drinking my beer?”

“You mean your piss water?”

I reach in and pull one of the large glass tubes out.

Just when I’m about to open it, I hear the faintest thump. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“That thump.”

He shrugs, clearly clueless. I hear it again, and this time, he swivels in his chair and pulls up the system controls of the Blue Star on the monitor. “Everything looks good.”

It happens again; this time it's louder.

“I’m gonna go check the engine room.” I sigh, standing up.

Mor’s eyes watch me as I walk to the door. “Maybe you should check on the girl?”

“Why?”

“It seems like the right thing to do. Besides, you can untie her. We’re stabilized now. And it may ease her hostility.”

“Right.”

I step down and press my hand against the sensor. It scans, and the door slides open.

Cool blows gently through the hall, and something overwhelms me. Something intoxicating.

I pause. I can smell her; her scent is strong and sweet. I deeply inhale. Her aroma is far more appealing than any I’ve ever smelled. Perhaps I should check on her.

The door closes behind me with a thud as I walk down the narrow hall. The cell is at the back of the ship, next to the engine room.

I stop, staring at the handle. I’m sure she’s fine, but I should check, just in case. I peer through the two-way mirror on the door.

The walls are thick, designed to contain both powerful beings and their weapons. It’s a prison, but it’s insulated.

A gorgeous human woman with dark hair, dark eyes, and lush curves sits on the low bed. She’s strapped against the wall next to it—there are a number of straps around the walls, just in case we have to hold multiple people—but she doesn’t look comfortable.

She lifts herself slightly against the bed and kicks the metal frame. So that’s where the mysterious noise was coming from.

I take a step forward, and her head lifts up.

Fucking Three Suns, I breathe. Never in my life have I viewed such beauty. Her hair is as black as the night sky, and her skin is smooth. Her lips are full; her nose, elegant. If only she didn’t look so pissed off.

Her full breasts move as her arms yank. “Is someone there?” she shouts between her full pink lips. Mor wasn’t kidding about her proportions, or that spirit. Her hazel eyes seem to be staring right through me. They glisten under thick lashes.

Now, I understand why she was chosen and why we were hired. Anyone who sees her would instantly be filled with desire, captivated by her in every way.

I adjust my hard cock as it presses against my pants, and take a deep breath, trying to think of the cold of space so I calm down. I lean against the door, and there’s a thump.

She hears me. I can tell by the way she pushes herself back against the wall.

“Get away from me.” Her eyes move frantically around.

Can she really sense me? I lean and stare through the glass, captivated beyond politeness. Her chest rises and falls quickly, and light beads of sweat appear on her forehead.

She’s scared. I have to make her feel better. I can’t bear the thought of such an amazing woman in discomfort.

I press my hand against the glass door. The scanner lightly tingles my hand, and it opens. I walk in, my arms raised and my most charming smile spreading wide.