A soft pillow cradled her cheeks. Silky sheets caressed her naked body. Emma stretched under the cocooning blanket, smiling as she recalled her vivid dream.

Abducted and taken into space, and by a guy living in a trailer. How silly, but fun while it lasted. Even awake, the memory lingered, not fading into obscurity as most nighttime illusions tended to.

Her eyes fluttered opened, and reality slammed her. The comfort she rested in wasn’t her bed back home, nor was it the less-than-luxurious accommodations found on board the ship. Not only was she not in her own bed, she wasn’t in her own galaxy.

It didn’t bother her like it should have. What did gnaw at her was her decision to sleep with Rafe. Less sleep and more like let him ply his wicked way.

I finally gave in. And, wow, what an experience.

Thinking of the man, where was he? A roll of her head and she noted the spot beside her remained untouched. Had Rafe not yet returned from his mysterious errand?

How long had she slept? Given she’d yet to figure out how they told time in space, she couldn’t tell how long he’d been gone. Long enough that she felt rested, but her body still tingled, sore, pleasantly so, between her legs. Rafe sure knew how to satisfy.

Emma couldn’t have said why she had suddenly capitulated to his advances. Then again, now that she’d gotten a taste, she also couldn’t remember why she’d fought him off for so long.

She wanted him. He wanted her. Traveling together complicated things somewhat. However, as she’d discovered thus far on their voyage, it was possible to find alone time, especially if they continued to work on opposite shifts.

Does this mean I’m done saying no?

Maybe. That would depend on him. The man truly possessed a gift for driving her nuts, and not just with anger but pleasure too. A smile pulled at her lips as she stretched. He certainly knew his way around a certain part of her body. A pity he’d had to leave before he could demonstrate his prowess in other ways.

She rolled off the bed and paced the room, naked but not in a hurry to cover up. On board the ship, the space often chilly, she tended to remain fully dressed. As a girl who’d spent years in a climate more often warm than not, she missed the freedom of wearing little on her body.

A stroll into the bathroom to take care of business meant the tub caught her eye. It remained full, and a dip of her toe in it showed it warm still. She couldn’t resist the temptation. After all, who knew when she’d next get a chance? Stepping into the water, she sank down until her body hit the bench, the liquid sluicing her sticky body. This time, without Rafe to distract her, she located something in a niche by the tub that produced lather. She used it to wash her body and hair.

Bathing done, she reluctantly got out and wrapped a fresh towel—which magically appeared in an alcove in the wall—and dried herself. Leaning against the wall, so she could bend and do her legs, she uttered a startled yell as the spot she pressed beeped and warm air billowed around her.

“What the hell?” Not quite as hot as a hair dryer, but really efficient considering the heated breeze removed the remaining moisture from her skin and also drew the dampness from her hair. Even more amazing, her hair settled in tame layers around her head, not the snarled and greasy mess she’d had to endure while on board the ship.

Her new clothes, smelling fresh and clean, had reappeared in another alcove recessed within the wall. Once dressed, she paced the bedroom mostly because she didn’t know what else to do.

She paused several times in front of the window, staring at the scenery, so strange in some respects, yet at the same time, less alien than she would have expected. In many ways, things remained the same. There was shopping and homes. Beds and baths. All the kinds of amenities she’d come to expect while different at the same time. But just having that reassuring sameness made her feel as if she could fit into this strange new life.

A new life with Rafe.

Rafe who’d left.

The question being, would he return?

The reasons for his absence nagged her. It didn’t help that doubt made her wonder and worry.

Did he abandon me here?

Of course not. He wouldn’t do that.

And I know this how?

Because she’d like to believe she was a decent judge of character.

So decent we never suspected he was a pirate from outer space.

In her defense, no one could have expected that. And why did she automatically assume he’d left and wouldn’t return? There could be any number of reasons why he’d yet to make a reappearance. His business had taken longer than expected. He was getting her a present. He got waylaid by ruffians and even now lay dead or dying in an alley.

The problem with all her assumptions was she couldn’t know for sure while hiding in this room.

Grumble.

She peered down at her belly. How long since she’d last eaten? In the thrill of the bath and then the sensual aftermath, she’d forgotten about food, but her body hadn’t. It protested its empty state.

Circling the room again, she went on the prowl for sustenance. Surely a place like this had room service or some kind of meal option, except she didn’t know how to access it.

Grumble. Again her stomach protested the lack of a snack, and she worried her lower lip between her teeth. Should she leave the room and go looking? Rafe had told her to stay and get some rest, but how long was she supposed to wait? If something had happened to him, or he’d abandoned her, then waiting served no purpose.

Wandering around on my own, though, probably isn’t the brightest idea. Not given what had happened to her before with the prune lady and that ogre dude. Outside wasn’t exactly safe for her, but what if she stayed within the hotel? Rafe said they were like some kind of neutral zone. Perhaps she could find a front desk or some kind of restaurant or bar within the building.

It seemed like a reasonable compromise.

Taking one last peek around, she looked for anything to avoid braving the strange world outside. No tray appeared with food. A chocolate bar didn’t suddenly magically materialize.

Stop being such a pussy. Shoulders pulled straight, head tilted at a stubborn angle, she marched to the elevator door. It opened at her approach, and she hesitated only a second before stepping into the metal coffin.

It felt just as claustrophobic as the first time, especially once the doors closed and it didn’t move. At all.

A tiny thread of panic wound around her, especially when she placed her hand on the sensor screen and it didn’t change color. What should she do?

“Dammit. Move. Do something. I just want some bloody food.”

In the stories, the magic words were something exotic. In space, the word food sent the elevator lurching, but to where?

Hopefully not the butchers with me as the meat.

The elevator didn’t move for long, and when the doors opened, she blinked. It might have had to do with the elegant atmosphere, so reminiscent of a fine dining establishment back home. The wide space, which spanned several tiers, featured many tables, some surrounded by a C-shaped booth, others with chairs. Some tables sat higher than others and had no chairs at all, but the gelatinous diners parked around them didn’t seem to mind as they partook of the culinary fare set upon the table.

While what the blob dudes ate didn’t look very appetizing, not with the many tendrils wiggling before being popped into giant mouths, she noted more pleasant smells. Mouth-watering scents that had her tummy rumbling even stronger than before.

Stepping forth from the elevator, she bit back a scream as someone smoothly appeared before her.

“Might I help you, honored guest?”

Could he explain what the hell he was first? Skin hued a light shade of blue and crowned with dark mauve hair, thick and lush, those attributes weren’t the strangest thing about the maître d’—and she assumed it was a him by the thin mustache he sported above his lip. Six arms projected from his sleek black suit.

“I’m hungry.” She blurted out the words and could have slapped herself for sounding so plaintive.

“Will you be joined by a companion, or do you wish to dine alone?”

She almost said alone when a familiar laugh caught her attention. Her head jerked, and she looked over the six-armed maître d’s shoulder to spot a familiar head in a booth on the second level.

So that was where Rafe hid. Not for long.

“I see my friend up there.” She pointed. “How do I get to him?”

“Please follow me.” He whirled around, and she got a glimpse of the wings projecting from his back. Stubby little things that she couldn’t see would prove much use.

A lift platform to the left zoomed them to the second tier, and she thanked the maître d’ before making a beeline for Rafe.

Here he was alive and well. And eating!

That alone annoyed her most. Nice to know he’d thought of her while he was out carousing.

He didn’t sit alone. Another man, a human-looking man, sat across from him. At something the fellow said, Rafe leaned close, his expression heated. She could see lips moving, but they spoke too low for her to hear over the subtle background music and hum of other diners.

While he never looked in her direction, he nevertheless knew when she drew near. “There you are, wench. I wondered when you’d join us.” His arm snaked out and grasped her hand, drawing her near. “Have a seat.”

Wondering at his odd behavior, she slid onto the chair beside him. This put her across from Rafe’s friend.

“So this is the female being gossiped about on the station. I can see why you’ve been fielding offers for her. Is she any good in bed?” The stranger perused her with the oddest eyes—one a vivid green, the other a clear blue—set in a swarthy face framed with a shock of dark hair broken by a single white streak. While not classically handsome, the man was definitely intriguing, intriguing enough that she didn’t take too much offense. She was starting to understand that the societal politeness that she’d grown used to on Earth didn’t exist out here. People were a lot more blunt.

It was okay. She could be blunt too. “What a shame you’ll never find out just how good I am in the sack. Unfortunately for you, I prefer men more my age.”

She heard a choking sound from beside her as Rafe stifled a cough.

The stranger didn’t take offense. He laughed. “What a feisty thing she is. Where did you find her?”

Before she could reply, Rafe did, probably a good thing since she didn’t have an answer that didn’t finish in Earth. “We ran into each other when I was acquiring some goods. I hired her on as a crewmember.”

“I’m surprised at you, Rafe. You don’t usually bring your playmates on board.”

“People change, cousin.”

“Cousin?” she queried.

“Actually, he’s my mother’s cousin. Emma, meet the very disreputable Luca.”

“Disreputable? You do me such honor, cousin. Then again, if someone knows about reputation, that would be you. The family still hasn’t gotten over what you did. I hear your uncle is still most displeased with you.”

She burned to ask what had happened, yet judging by the glowering expression on Rafe’s face, none would be forthcoming. He quickly changed the subject. “You still haven’t told me why you’re here, Luca.”

“Alas, I find myself a captain without a vessel. An unfortunate mutiny saw me lose my precious.”

“I told you not to hire that band of sewer rats.” Rafe shook his head. “Nothing good ever comes of working with them, even if their wages are cheap.”

“Apparently. So anyway, I was lucky enough to be able to find my way here in the pod I used to escape, and now I am stuck. Out of money. No ship. I’ve been waiting to find someone willing to take me on as a passenger or crew.”

Rafe snorted. “I can see why you might have problems. They are probably worried you’re going to take over their ship. It’s the reason I won’t let you aboard mine.”

“You wound me, cousin. As if I would do anything to family.”

Even Emma knew better than to trust that glint in Luca’s eyes. What kind of family did Rafe come from anyhow? He’d compared them to gypsies, and he was an unrepentant privateer, but was the rest of his family involved in less than above-board dealings?

The platter in front of Rafe drew her attention. She didn’t recognize anything on it, but her stomach didn’t care. If he could eat it, then so could she. She didn’t ask permission, just snagged something that looked like bacon, but tasted… She didn’t have a comparison that came to mind. The texture was spongy, and the flavor a mix of sweet, salty, and tang all at once. As she nibbled, she listened.

“You didn’t say why you were meeting with Huegga.” Luca took a swig from a mug.

Beside her, Rafe shrugged. “He’s a dealer in antiquities. He had a few objects in his possession that he wanted me to take on commission since I can access a wider clientele.”

“A dealer trusting you to broker a deal and pay out his share?” Luca uttered a boisterous laugh. “What a fool. How much do you stand to make when you jilt him of his portion?”

“Nothing. I didn’t agree.” Leaning back in his seat, Rafe let a smile tug his lips, but she noted it didn’t reach his eyes. Those shone with a cold darkness. “I’m a pirate, not a merchant.”

“So you didn’t take anything from Huegga? Say like a certain artifact?” The query sounded jovial, but Luca showed too much intent in his stare as he waited for a reply.

“What would I do with an old piece of junk?”

“Fly it, apparently,” she mumbled. Only as the two men’s gazes veered her way did she realize she’d spoken aloud. Ducking her head, she continued to eat, fascinated by this discussion between cousins. One would almost think they were enemies.

“So, cousin, may I beg a ride from you aboard your relic? I promise to not overthrow the captain.”

“Against my better judgment, I will grant you passage. Anything for family.” Rafe smiled wide, all his teeth gleaming.

“Excellent. I shall gather my things and meet you at the docking arm in say thirty mynts?”

“Perfect. That will give me enough time to ensure Emma is fed and that the Annabelle has received and stored all our supplies.”

Rising from the table, Luca smiled and performed a short bow in her direction before striding away.

She swallowed her current bite of something sweet and juicy before saying, “I don’t think I trust that man.”

“You shouldn’t because I don’t.”

“But he’s your cousin.”

“Familial relationships don’t keep you safe. Come now. We must make haste.”

“What happened to letting me eat?”

“Eat later. We need to leave. Now.”

“But you said we had like thirty minutes.” For some reason, despite knowing the galactic standard for time was different, she couldn’t change almost thirty years of learning.

“Only because I am hoping to stall him.” He rose from his seat and dragged her with him. She reached to grab a handful of something crunchy that reminded her of beef jerky with a soft center.

“Do you think he’s going to try and steal your ship?”

“Among other things.”

Rafe weaved through the tables, leading her away from the entrance into the restaurant. With his hand laced through hers, he tugged her through a section of wall that turned out to be a clever hologram that hid the patrons’ dining area from the kitchen.

Smells assailed her, some making her taste buds tingle, others making her nose wrinkle. She especially didn’t want to know what was in the pot with the hair-like tendrils waving from the bubbling liquid.

No one, and by no one she meant the odd creatures working the various prep stations, paid them any mind as Rafe dragged her to the back of the kitchen and out another door.

They emerged into an alley, which made no sense because she could have sworn they weren’t at ground level. Then again, as Rafe kept reminding her, real estate on the space station came at a premium. Who was to say they didn’t stack alleys atop each other?

Still holding her hand, Rafe ran down the narrow length, the stone underfoot smooth yet slick in spots, as puddles and slime smeared the surface.

They reached the end and emerged onto a street, a seemingly empty street. For some reason, this bothered her.

“Should it be this quiet?” she asked in a whisper. She might as well have shouted since it echoed loudly in the empty space.

“No, it shouldn’t be,” Rafe muttered. “Everyone is lying low.”

“What does it mean?” She tucked behind him as he hugged the wall, his gaze darting all around for signs of danger. He moved slowly, gun in one hand, raised and ready. Not a good sign.

“It means we are probably looking at an ambush.”

That sounded bad. So why was he grinning? “Shouldn’t we go back to the hotel then? I thought you said they were safe places.”

He took a scant second to cast her a look of amusement. “First rule of being a pirate. Forget about playing it safe.”

“I’m not a pirate, though.”

“Sorry, wench, but you are guilty by association.”

“What’s the second rule?” she asked, more to distract herself from the tense situation.

“Stay alive.”

As he said this, he raised his gun and fired. She couldn’t have said at what, though. A flash replied, hitting the plastered and crumbling wall above her head. Chunks and dust sifted down. She squeaked and crouched low, not that it would help. She felt very exposed in this alley, and apparently Rafe thought so too. He fired at a door across from them, the handle melting before his laser blast. He ran at the door, tugging her behind him. She didn’t need any urging as streaking missiles came from a few directions, one whizzing by her face so close she felt a kiss of heat. It almost took care of her very fine mustache.

“They’re trying to kill us!” she yelled as he barreled through the door he’d unlocked.

“Not really,” he said, dragging her through a room piled high with boxes. “Those blasts are meant to stun. Whoever set this trap wants us alive.”

That didn’t exactly reassure. “Who is after us?”

“I have my suspicions.”

Someone appeared in the doorway of the storage room they’d invaded, chittering loudly. Emma had only a moment to gape at the true Martian in living green color, antennas and all, before Rafe shoved his way past him and darted through the shop filled with…

Her eyes widened. “It’s a dildo store!”

“We call them penile enhancement emporiums.”

Whatever he called them mattered less than the gargantuan penis thicker than her thigh. “Who has a pie big enough for that?” she exclaimed as they ran past.

“If we live, then maybe someday I’ll show you. They’re a unique species in that they self-inseminate but require a partner to do so.”

Shoving at the beads covering the front door of the shop, Rafe burst onto the street and took a moment to glance in all directions. There was actual foot—and tentacle—traffic here, traffic that paid them no mind until the lasers blasts started.

“This way,” he yelled, and they were off again, running and dodging the slow aliens, who regretted not clearing a path when they got caught in shots meant for them. Only once did Emma peek behind her, spotting the snoring carcasses of at least a half-dozen folk.

The good news was friends of those fallen took exception to the faulty blasts and went after those shooting.

They reached the stone arch leading out of the hollow asteroid area and to the outer docking ring. Rafe didn’t slow. He ran headlong into it, only to halt halfway, throwing an arm out to stop Emma when she would have gone bolting past.

The reason was quickly clear. Paschatta, boobs hanging low, blocked the route, hands on her hips.

“Leaving so soon? But you’ve yet to truly enjoy our hospitality. Come with me quietly and maybe I won’t let my boys hurt you.” The crone cackled. Shadows converged behind her, big hulking figures. By boys, Paschatta meant giant, tusked demons, at least that was how they appeared. Leathery skin. Elongated heads. And horns, curling out from their jaws and on top of their heads.

“Out of the way,” Rafe warned, raising his weapon.

“You wouldn’t dare shoot at a priestess of the Holy Tabernacle of Fornication.”

“Then you don’t know me very well.” Rafe aimed higher and shot at the arch itself.

For a moment, Emma thought nothing would happen. Surely the rock was too tough for his laser blast. The so-called priestess in front of them cackled. “I think you missed, pirate prince.”

“I never miss,” said Rafe. His confidence showed in his easy bearing.

The lights in the tunnel flicked from clear to red, and a siren sounded.

“What’s happening?” she asked.

It was Paschatta who answered. “Fool. Do you really think calling the station guards will save you? I own the guard.”

The echo of boots clomping arrived from behind and even ahead as soldiers came pouring into the tunnel. Rafe, who had tucked his gun away into his holster, pointed at the crone and her minions and said, “They did it.”

“I did no such thing.” But her protests were ignored as the soldiers converged on Paschatta and her thugs. Problem was they also seemed intent on nabbing Emma and Rafe too.

“Now what, smart guy?”

“Now, I show you why I’m so good at what I do. Get on my back and hold on tight, wench.”

Usually she would have asked why, but there was no time. He half turned, and she jumped on, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. She’d no sooner gotten into position when Rafe ran straight at the wall of the tunnel, which made no sense to her. She didn’t spot any secret door.

What made even less sense was when he started running up the wall, defying the laws of gravity. Again.

What was he, some kind of superhero? If they got out of this alive, she was making him a fucking cape. Right after she screwed him silly for saving them.