Corsairs: Adiron (Corsair Brothers, #1)

by Ruby Dixon

A music-hating ass, to boot. And there's a lot of things you can be in the universe, but if you hate music, people look at you funny.

So, as I sit in my booth, I look for something to hit. Someone ugly. Doesn't matter the species. My fists are equal opportunity.

I wonder what Kaspar will think if he suddenly gets two avian females all over him when he's trying to pick a fight at the bar. He'll probably kill me later.

"I told you to blend," he complains as we move onto the bridge and slide into our seats. "Fighting with everyone in the cantina isn't blending." "Neither is being blue, but we didn't realize that was a problem until we got there," I point out. "We stood out no matter what."

Something tells me this lord never actually gets into fights. He just shows up and browbeats his opponents with his superior ship and masses of troops at his disposal.

“Why is this one naked?” “That’s my business,” I quip. Mathiras smacks me with his tail. Lord Straik just looks at me as if I’m a bug. He turns to one of his clone soldiers, and in the next moment, one of the males steps forward and wraps a towel around my hips. Guess my junk was a little offensive to high and mighty Lord Straik.

I know the mesakkah lords prefer flowing materials and ornate robes for clothing to show how rich they are or something, but in space, clothing is best when it fits tightly. I imagine Lord Straik floating through his room of vases, his skirts above his head because his ship lost gravity, and fight back a snicker. Everyone looks at me like I'm crazy.

The lord stalks back and forth, robes swirling, and I snort-chuckle again, still stuck on that mental image of floating skirts. It's hard for me to take a male seriously when he's dressed in something so keffing impractical.

He does wear black all the time though. "I'd bet my entire pot that even his underclothes are black," the a'ani captain of the guard states.

"Of course I'm serious. Let's see if these underclothes of his are as severe and ridiculous as everything else he wears."

"This thing weighs as much as your mother," I grunt as I haul it forward. Dopekh just snorts. "Your insult is useless. I have no mother. And Lord Straik likes clean clothes, I guess."

The last time they let me navigate, I burned through all of our fuel because I wanted to get a good look at a double-ringed planet. I mean, if you can't enjoy the view, what's the point?

"And the only one that supports life is an ice planet with poison air.

"Nothing but pure ice as far as the eye can see." "Sounds like Kaspar's last date," I joke, nudging Mathiras. Both of my brothers—and Straik—glare at me. "Oh come on. That was a good one."

Helen is some sort of strange species that's utterly, completely breathtakingly beautiful. She's mostly human-looking, but she's got bright red skin and long, silky lavender hair. Her catlike eyes have the longest lashes I've ever seen and they're an equally stunning shade of purple. Her figure is perfect, and her mouth is full and pouty. She's even got pretty iridescent fins on the backs of her arms and legs, and a bit of webbing between her fingers. I don't know what she is, but she's so overwhelmingly beautiful that we started calling her Helen after Helen of Troy.

"Five minutes, ladies. Change clothes, fluff your tits, and get ready to wow some aliens."

I wonder for a moment if I'd be able to lick my finger and stick it in Straik's ear before he notices. Probably not.

"Ten credits if you let me go first." I snort. Ten credits won't even buy a pack of carcinogels. "Keep your credits. I don't want to go first anyhow." I mean, if there ARE ghosts…

I turn to look behind me, and Lord Straik is wearing his cloak and dark clothing, because of course he is.

Kaspar asks, still stroking the human's silky yellow hair. I've never seen him look so instantly protective. Uh oh. That's not a good sign.

"Kef me, is that a qura'aki?" says one man.

Shirtless is just watching me through that window. And grinning. Like he's proud.

What a magnificent female. She's set us a trap.

I liked it. I like her. Not since Shaalyn have I been interested in another female. Maybe my cock only stands up for females that betray me. Heh. Wouldn't surprise me one bit if that was the truth.

Then I sober, because I think Zoey might like Jade. That's important to me, because I plan on keeping Jade. Not as a slave, of course. As my female. My mate. Jade doesn't know it yet, but she's stuck with the dumbest keffer in this system…which doesn't say much, because this system is pretty deserted.

This cell is the height of luxury, prison cell-wise. It's temperate and comfortable, and I'm almost surprised there isn't soft music being piped in along with the flower scent.

Looks more like a tea party than a keffing holding cell. "Did I miss snack time?"

"No, seriously," I tease. "I'm here for snacks. Did I miss the cheese tray?" I glance around and pretend to look disappointed as I scratch at my skin. "This is the nicest holding cell I've ever seen. You want me to ask if you guys can watch a vid? I bet we can arrange that."

"What's a'ani?" the yellow-haired one asks. "A clone," I say, scratching at my arm. "You know, the red skin." The qura'aki gasps. "I'm a CLONE?" Er… "You didn't know that?"

"And I have a disease," Alice announces. "If you touch me, you'll catch it." I glance over at my ladies, and they're wearing looks of defiance. Except Helen. She looks depressed. "I want a disease," she whispers. Alice shakes her head at her.

"Well, boys," my “friend” announces, grinning. "How do we punish? I vote spanking."

I can't help but notice that Adiron—the spanking enthusiast—takes

I lean back in my chair, grinning at her, waiting for the effects to kick in. I remember when Zoey was a tiny little runt, no more than arms and legs, running around our ship. She tried sweetjuice for the first time after we brought back a carafe from a station cantina and then drunkenly wandered around the Little Sister for hours, talking to her shoe. It made her drunk beyond any alcohol, and after that hilarious incident, we kept sweetjuice off the ship.

My legs don't work quite right—it's like they're made of noodles—and I run into a table. And a chair. And then another table. I giggle, because how do all these tables keep getting in front of the door? It's like there's an obstacle course in here and at the other end are my friends. Well, I've watched TV shows. I know how you handle an obstacle course.

So I start climbing on the table in front of me, crawling over the top.

Fine, if he wants me to sit, I'll sit right on him. I drop down on his leg. "Boom."

"You look funny." "You mean sexy," he corrects. "I look sexy. In fact, it blows your mind how sexy I am." I snort. "I'm not that drunk."

"A great big kitten," I announce. "Meow for me, kitty." "What?" He sounds confused. I stroke his neck. "Maybe purr instead? Prrrrr." I roll my tongue. "Prrrrrr, kitty."

I sniff him again, trying to figure out what he smells like. Sunshine, maybe. Does sunshine have a smell? He smells happy, I decide. Kinda musky and warm and just a hint of fruit.

"Shhh." "That's good to know—" "Shhh," I say again, pressing harder on his lips. "I said quiet." Instead of being quiet, he licks my finger.

"If they tried to touch your titties, they weren't your friends," he says solemnly. "Exactly!" I smack my lips. "Can I have more juice?"

"I'll kiss you if you get me more juice. Even when you're all ugly and bloated." "As opposed to ugly and unbloated?" "You're not ugly,"

"You're just alien. I'm sure you're very handsome for a battle-smurf."

"What other humans? How many?" "One hundred and thirty-two,"

"Are you allergic to humans?" Kaspar snorts. "He's allergic to doing what he's told."

"I have no news. The black-haired one screamed and kicked the entire time. I did learn a few new curse words, but nothing of use. She wouldn't tell me anything."

"Is now a good time to tell you guys what the cargo is?" "It's silks, right?"

"Yeah, Kaspar said my ugliness was making him lose his appetite, so I got a few histamine shots from med-bay. I'm back to being only somewhat dashingly handsome." He mock-rubs his jaw, preening.

I stare in horror at his perfect ass. I mean, he's the enemy. He should not be built like a marble statue. I should not be noticing round, juicy buns underneath his tail. That is so wrong on so many levels. "Find some damn pants!"

"You wanna do something else?" He gives me an utterly roguish smile. "You mean like push you off a bridge?" I retort. Adiron laughs as if I've said the funniest thing ever. He shakes his head, grinning at me.