Damon muttered “Fuck” a few more times between rolling off Michonne’s hot body, yanking on his pants, fabricating a new shirt, and doing a quick toiletry session. As he emerged from the ablutions room, it didn’t help to see her rosy-cheeked in his bed, her hair spilling over her naked shoulders.

“You’re leaving again?” she asked.

“You heard the computer. Work.”

“Can you at least give me permission to exit your quarters?”

“What are you talking about?” Only as soon as he asked, he knew. “Shit, you couldn’t leave the room yesterday. No wonder you were so mad. Fuck. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. Computer, allow Michonne full access to my quarters.”

“Thank you.” The smile she gave him went right to his cock—his poor blue balls just sobbed.

“Uh.” Yeah, that was what the smooth first mate managed to say to the woman who’d come so gloriously on his tongue not that long before. The reminder didn’t help his frustration situation.

Which might have explained his scowl when he entered the bridge to see the captain had called most of his senior crew, which meant him as first mate, as well as the second mate, who usually worked an opposing shift to Damon. Which suited Lazarine just fine. She preferred the nocturnal hours on board. Both majors were there, being the chief medical officer, Karson, and that of the environment, Ivan. Einstein rounded out their party, her petite body dwarfed by her seat, one of the rare cases where a human couldn’t be fixed by modern medicine. Between her hybrid genes and being raised on a zero-gravity asteroid without access to the basics, Einstein never had a chance. But while her body might have crippled, her mind flourished.

The captain entered last. “I see everyone is here.” Everyone except Crank. The captain let the cyborg get away with insubordination. Everyone did. Poor guy suffered.

Will I turn into Crank if I lose my wife? Probably not since she indicated he’d die soon after. Still, it did bring a moment of pause to wonder if she was right, that their arranged marriage could work and maybe he’d end up truly caring for her.

Aren’t I already starting?

“Thanks for gathering. I wanted to talk to you before we land.”

“Land where? We are still two days out from the way station.” Damon frowned.

“We need to make a pit stop first. Here.” Jameson waved his hand, and a holomap appeared. A pulsing red point drew the eye.

“You’re taking us to La’zuun. Since when do you gamble?” asked Karson.

La’zuun was an asteroid that thrived on vices. Especially those frowned upon by most evolved societies. Yet even the most educated and intelligent retained a somewhat primal need for the taboo and the violent.

Places like La’zuun with its gambling, arena for bloodshed, and boudoirs for seduction—and pain—filled the void. And made great credits doing so. They were also dangerous places where the wrong bet or move could see someone playing the part of the next victim in the arena.

Given it was a place to relax, Damon asked, “Should we begin dividing the crew into away parties?”

“We won’t be staying long enough for that.”

An in-and-out affair. Damon cocked a brow. “Crew won’t like that.” Any docking time was considered sacrosanct. Even after centuries in space, humanity still required some kind of contact with the ground. To feel gravity, real gravity, tugging at them. Breathing real air.

“We can’t stay long because we’ll probably be coming out hot,” Jameson advised, a swipe of his hand enlarging the planet. A green and blue ball. Once a derelict hunk of rock, floating alone around a star, it had been terra formed at great expense and turned into a playground.

Ivan grumbled, “Can you not delay whatever trouble you’ve got planned long enough to give the crew some deserved down time?”

“They’ll get downtime when we hit the station in a few days,” Jameson said.

More than one face sported a grimace. “Not exactly the same,” Karson noted. “I have to agree with others. As chief medical officer, I do think the crew could use a few hours in a place with grass and trees and people other than those they’re sick of.”

“We have grass in the conservatory, and if they don’t like the people here, then there’s the holodeck. We can’t stay.” Jameson glared all around, but while they followed the man fiercely and loyally, none had gotten there by being pushovers. They didn’t shrivel under his glare, and he sighed. “Fine. Twelve hours. No more. And make sure it’s clear we’re not staying. Anyone not on board at departure time will damned well stay behind.”

“Aye, aye, captain.” Damon snapped a salute.

Jameson smirked. “Years later and you still can’t do it right. No wonder you flunked out of the academy.” Being the galactic academy where the best and brightest of humanity’s soldiers trained.

Damon thanked all the stars he’d not ended up shoehorned into an awful career. Shuttling dignitaries. Dealing with colony problems. Getting killed in wars that didn’t mean shit.

“Now that we’ve dealt with that, our next dilemma. The first mate’s new wife.”

Damon grimaced. “Do we have to drag that out now?”

“I think by now everyone knows about your accidental wedding.” Jameson smirked. “But what you don’t know is that poses some difficulties. First and foremost being the fact that her father sent me to rescue her and, instead, my first mate married her.”

“Technically, she married me. I would have said no.”

“Won’t matter. You are her husband, and since you don’t have a family name, planet, or army behind you, her father is going to be less than pleased.”

“And what do you suggest I do about that?” Damon asked.

“Make her very, very happy.”

“I can give you pointers if needed,” Ivan remarked.

“Don’t listen to the sausage fest,” Einstein interjected. “Just be yourself.”

“I thought we wanted him to succeed in making her happy,” Karson noted.

Lazarine snickered. “Then he’s screwed.”

Jameson cleared his throat. “How about we let Damon figure out how to woo his wife on his own. I just want you to be aware in case we need to make a hasty departure when we do end up meeting with him. But I doubt that will be for a few days. In the meantime, I need you all ready for our upcoming La’zuun excursion.”

“Going to tell us why we’re here?” Karson asked.

“No.”

“But you’re pretty sure we will be leaving hot,” Damon queried.

“Probably.”

“Then I’d better warn Crank.”

Except Crank already knew. Which left Damon with nothing much to do. Everyone was already hard at work. He’d made the rounds twice already. He couldn’t avoid it anymore.

His room.

His wife.

What they’d started…

Why did he fear her? You heard what the captain said. You need to make her happy. It was a matter of life or death. Yet, the fact that he had to do it, had to make her the happiest woman alive, made him balk. What about what he wanted?

I want her.

Yes, he did, in the moment, for now. What about after they’d slept together? What about when they tired of each other? Surely their passion—even if ridiculously strong now—would fade.

It doesn’t fade with everyone. There were examples of relationships that lasted everywhere he went. He knew of numerous couples on board the ship happy with their choice.

He knew just as many that were happier to split.

The door to his room loomed in front of him. Behind it, a future he’d never asked for but had to accept.

The hardship. Married to a gorgeous, rich woman. The horror.

I’m an idiot. Since he couldn’t change things, he should embrace it. Embrace her. With his tongue. Again. Because she tasted so damned delicious.

He walked toward his door, which, recognizing him, slid open. “Princess, I’m home.” Declared to an empty room.

Where the hell had his wife gone?