The Pearl (Galactic Jewels Book 1) (7 page)

She was right and the vehemence I’d had toward him had been both unnerving and uncalled for. At least this was abnormal and not my usual reaction to unexpected change and visitors—I’d make the worst pearl in the history of the UN if this was my norm. For all I knew, I’d read but a brief history on Dirk, only finding the worst of him. Surely there was as much, if not more, atolling
 
his virtues. I tried to shake the vast array of emotions, but they clung to me like Zixxbys.

She reached over and squeezed my fingers. “He’ll be gone before you know it and he won’t ruin tonight for you. Nothing could ruin tonight. Stay calm, be the pearl.”

I nodded my thanks, my throat too tight and constricted for much more. Stepping onto the dais, my stomach roiled and bubbled with nervousness. At least my anger at Dirk had given me a focus beyond the day’s emotions. For that I could thank him, but she’d been right, whoever he was, whatever he’d done, he was one of mine and maybe I could look at him as a fragile Tipper instead of the unschooled mechanic I thought I knew.

Fransín fluffed and straightened the train on my j
ū
nihitoe, fussing with nonexistent details. “You look stunning.”

“Thanks to you.” We leaned close and kissed the air beside our cheeks, careful not to smudge her hours of work. “Happy thoughts,” I whispered, more to myself than to her.

She nodded and choked back the tears, then moved beside M and clutched him. He slid a single arm around her waist and worked the controls, readying our ship and the station to receive me.

I pressed my arms into my sides. “Ready.”

C
HAPTER
9

I
STOOD
STILL
in the space station’s transporter room and focused on the room’s contents to make my nausea cease. An older version of M’s control panel and chair undulated like the monitor and door, growing and shrinking abnormally. I snapped my eyes closed, picturing the room without the wacky effects. I breathed in the sting of cleaning solution and hint of Samarian roses, mentally walking the layout from the oversized door to the low ceiling and tall, narrow windows.

My stomach lurched again and I gripped the satin edges of my sleeves. There’d been a glitch the last time I’d used this station, like the machinery had a lag in the delivery of all my bits and parts. I was surprised it hadn’t been fixed.

This time, it took a full minute for my stomach to settle. The delay had requiring more time with each use this year, and I’d forgotten to mention it. Sensors picked up my vitals and I waited for the air mixture shift and forceful rush of oxygen into the room. Other than the belly flutters, I didn’t feel the typical light-headedness of arriving. Maybe they’d done some repairs since my last visit to this side of the universe, and hadn’t known to fix the transporter.

“Transport successful.” M’s voice reverberated off the walls. I relayed the lag.

“I’ll report the bug. Not sure who’s in charge of—”

“That’d be me,” a deep voice interrupted from behind the console off to my left. I strained to catch a glimpse of him but a silver metal wall blocked my field of vision. Against the wall, holos of a flight crew stood awaiting any instructions I might have. I’d forgotten about this feature, so revolutionary back when they’d built this and now a useless outdated feature. I studied the captain and his crew as they flickered in their faux attentiveness, wondering if I could ask them to escort Dirk off the station.

I sighed, knowing I was my own solution. Once my intestines felt normal, I stepped off the transporter, dragging the heavy train of silks behind me. “Excuse me?”

“I’m in charge of upkeep,” the voice said again, then he appeared—the one and only Dirk Battleship. I’d spent too much time with Fransín’s dancers last night; he mimicked them and their humanoid features. In my research, I hadn't bothered with where Dirk had originated from, probably crawled from a hole on Tipper and insinuated himself neatly into the colonies before becoming a galactic mechanic and personal whore to females everywhere.

Every detail about Dirk was unappealing. From his reputation to his broad shoulders that were too wide to fit in a controller chair, eyes so pale blue Mercev’s seven suns would have scalded them within seconds, a square jaw that would have dislodged a Twilip headdress, long muscular legs that would have cramped on a Bevi hike. Dressed in a thickly padded mechanic’s jumpsuit, he was about my height, which made his thickly muscled arms ridiculously out of proportion; whatever his species, it was a bizarrely functional one. The sleeves of his jumpsuit strained with the pressure of his body beneath—the orange material matched the color of my third robe, yet clashed ridiculously with the shade of his skin, the bronzed brown of a Foley sunrise. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave, which made me uneasy. Between the transport and my lingering emotions, I had enough to worry about.

“Great.” I smiled politely and stepped around him, giving him a wide berth. “Will you be long? I’m meeting someone.” I swallowed and clutched my fingers together at my belly, wanting him to take the hint and hightail it to his ship. “It’s a private function.”

He smirked and raked his gaze down my dress, then back up, taking his sweet time appraising my features and the embroidery. I would have expected it from the Samarian—it had been done the same way by every other representative—but from him it was so… callous. Disrespect clung to his appraisal, like he was imagining me naked beneath for all the wrong reasons. Which was weird because there were
no 
wrong reasons for naked. Still, his attention made me squirm... and not in a desirable way. Whatever galaxy he hailed from, their physicality mismatched mine in a way that took normal reactions and twisted them unrecognizable. On top of that, my thoughts were a scattered mess. I didn’t like it.

“Yeah,” he said slowly, then held my gaze intently before glancing over his shoulder toward the dash and its blinking colored indicator switches. “When I got here, warning lights had the console lit up. I figured I had a few minutes before you got here, so I ran a few tests, fixed the oxygen sensors and the heater. Looked like a system update failed to reboot.”

I frowned, still unsure about his presence. At least he’d been productive during his sightseeing. “What manuals did you use?” Not a single training aide lay on the floor, making me question his story.

He laughed and wiped the handle of his wrench on the leg of his stained overalls. “Manuals… Good one.”

“I—” I snapped my mouth shut. I’d been serious about the manuals. I didn’t want him tampering with the ship with his careless mechanicking. Specific ways existed for fixing things and those details were in manuals. No point in wasting time explaining either. I wanted him gone. Hopefully he hadn’t messed up anything that would misfire during the presentation.

I glanced at the dais, wishfully picturing the Samarian's arrival. They were startlingly punctual and typically early, so it should be any minute now. Maybe Dirk would get the hint once she showed up. I should hail M to find out if they’d called or sent word about a delay. “I need to make a call.”

He blinked. “Go ahead.” He pointed his wrench at the console. “I didn’t mess with any of that. Works fine.”

“A private call.” Thankfully, this wasn’t the only intercommunicator on the ship.

“No problem. I’ll escort you and find the bar. I wouldn’t mind a drink.”

I looked away and rolled my eyes. Figured that he wasn’t listening. He incited my humanness, which made me frustrated, heightening my anger in a violent cycle. It annoyed me. “No need for you to stay. I’m fine. Thanks for fixing the controls.” No way was he hanging around and drinking while I found out how long I’d be alone.

“Hold on.” He opened a small drawer and set the wrench inside, then grabbed the top of his zipper and pulled it down.

I jumped back, the train of the dress tangling around my legs. I didn’t need to see anything on the other side of that zipper. Plenty of other females in the galaxy had checked out his junk. “You should go.” I
hated
that I’d compared the magnificence of the male body to castoff trash; he’d managed to strip me of years of training within two minutes of meeting him.

He didn’t bother to respond, but unzipped his overalls and stepped out of them, a crisp navy suit beneath, an oddly vintage getup with its gray shirt and navy necktie. How weird. There was no explaining mechanics.

Glad I’d never need to, I walked out, leaving him to whatever prep he completed before departing and hoping he'd be gone by the time I finished and had the Samarian’s ETA. Outside the transporter, I took a left toward the dining area, eyes peeled for an intercommunicator. Too bad these older ships didn’t have the all-ship access to hail M from comm sensors in the hallway  and I needed an actual unit.

The hall dumped into a glass-walled round room with a matching circular table in the center, remodeled and perfectly designed to accommodate all the candidates from the large Hemperklu to the delicate Pia. Tonight’s chairs stood at one end, high-backed replicas of the Mother Divine’s throne. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, replicas of Foley sea creatures. Crystalline tentacles trailed from the central orb, its red body filled with sparkling gems. I searched the windows for the Samarian’s approaching ship, seeing nothing but asteroids. A heaviness filled my stomach.
Where was she?

I sighed and stepped into the room, spotting a unit blinking in the wall separating the bar from the dining area. I wasn't excited about the bar being down here if Dirk was still intent on coming to find one.

I hurriedly hailed M, straining to hear him over a staticky connection. "Can you hear that on your end?"

"What?"

"Nothing." I wasn't wasting precious seconds on non-critical details. Acknowledging the intercommunicator issue meant I'd have to file a report and I dreaded having to wade through details of mechanical things I knew little about. I gave M the situation with Dirk and asked him to find out the deal with the missing Samarian.

“Would you like to standby while I check?” M asked. Dirk appeared in the doorway, paused, scanned the empty dining area and bar, then spotted me and came over. “No,” I said, in a rush to get off the call and pay attention before he unzipped anything else. “Find out and call me back. Thanks.” I disconnected and rubbed my sleeve, doing my best to act like the pearl and not fidget impatiently. I inhaled and concentrated on the silk wrapping me in a thick, comfortable layer like a never-ending hug that I fiercely needed.

“What can I get you to drink?” His voice was nice; melodic and rich like Mercev coffee laced with Pia chocolate. Had he been any other male, I’d have entertained a conversation. But he wasn't. He was Dirk Battleship, whose discussions led to meaningless, mindless sex.

I cringed, furious that he continued to lead my thoughts into making sex something awful. Only he would be able to turn such a soul-binding practice into an act of debauchery. And why was I even thinking about that around him. I ground my teeth together. “Nothing for me, thank you.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He passed me and walked behind the bar, squatting to rummage through the cabinet doors, opening and closing them. I entered the dining area and withdrew the curved pillowed seat and arranged my j
ū
nihitoe so I wouldn’t wrinkle it. I expected M’s callback to come any second and I wanted to look pristine for the Samarian, not rumpled and cranky.

Dirk followed, intent on hanging with me until she arrived instead of leaving like I'd hoped. He set a bottle and small glass on the table. I read the silver and grandin label, confused. He hadn’t unearthed that bottle back there as a lucky stab in the depths of a random cabinet. No way would anyone have stocked that, let alone left it behind. He’d brought it on-board.

His gaze roamed over me again and he shifted uneasily against the constraint of his jacket and tugged the sleeve like he wasn’t used to wearing it beneath his coveralls. Maybe he had a date with his next conquest and had dressed up for the occasion. I’d imagined him wearing something less… charming while he traveled the universe wrench in one hand, cock in the other. I shivered, hating that he’d given me any reason to think of sex as awful and dirty and frustrated at my admission of hate. He continued to bring my human to the surface. Sex was amazing and wonderful and transformational. I’d spent a decade learning how to give and receive pleasure from species across the galaxies. I’d been trained in techniques exceeding Dirk’s awareness. He
took
sex. He didn’t give.

I looked away, concerned that I cared what he thought or how he behaved. He wasn’t my problem. Our paths would never cross again. He could take whatever he wanted from whoever he wanted without impacting me one bit.

His hand smoothed the front of his jacket and slid the button free, releasing a long sigh from deep in his belly and relaxing his shoulders. The gray shirt beneath hugged his stomach, exposing the ridges of his abdominal muscles. No wonder he exhibited such tension if his entire outfit was so tight. I shifted in my own, breathing deeply until my skin rubbed delightfully against the silk of my kosode. Why wear such an outfit if he hated it so much? He unscrewed the bottle and poured. “Back there—” He held my attention while the neck of the bottle kissed the glass rim. “You were bothered that I hadn’t needed a book. Why?”

“There are proper ways to do things.” I drew my hands into my lap and tried to ignore the multitude of golds and coppers mingling together against the glass as they caught the lights of the room. My mouth watered and I nearly savored the richness on my lips. I swallowed and dragged my gaze from the glass. “Especially when messing with important things like air mixtures.”