My lips hit hers, her tongue fighting with mine as all around us the jewels hum with our desire, each one picking up and amplifying our pleasure.
The reason a Sarkarnii sleeps with his hoard.
“Driok.” She whispers my name and I nearly lose all control.
The bot makes a low, grinding sound.
“This is to be charged to the baron’s account,” I growl at it.
“Checking…”The bot flashes a series of lights at me and then after it makes a noise like flatulence. “Confirmed.”
“As much as I want to see this jewel in you right at this very moment, spitfire,” I murmur in her ear, “I also need to get you out of these clothes and into new ones.”
“I told you, I don’t need new clothes,” she says.
“If you are to go to a party with the baron and all his cronies, then you are to look the part.” I shove my face into her hair, my lips on the skin of her neck as her body presses against mine.
“I don’t scrub up well,” Maggie says, a slight strain to her voice.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” I respond.
We exit the jewel vendor and continue around the atrium until I find a clothing vendor I like the look of.
“Here,” I say, making a move for the airlock.
“No,” Maggie replies. “That one.”
She points to a tiny vendor, who has less on display than any of the others.
“Why that one?”
“I have my reasons,” she says with a half smile.
“Are they similar to the reasons you asked for the guards the baron mentioned…the Gryn?”
“Probably. I hate to see anyone repressed. And the way he talked about them…” Her little fists roll into balls. “That isn’t right. So, I saw an opportunity and I took it.”
I shrug. “I don’t disagree, but we won’t be taking them with us. The last thing I need is more creatures to keep alive.”
“I wasn’t going to suggest we recruit them.” Maggie laughs. “I was going to suggest we set them free.”
“You love picking up broken things, don’t you?” I say, thinking about the horc which was presumably starving for attention in our hold until she found it.
“And what does that say about you, Driok?” Maggie replies as she swaggers into the small vendor.
To my surprise, the place is significantly larger on the inside than it is on the outside, and the goods are of a very high quality. The owner, a rotund, blue-skinned female, is all smiles when she sees Maggie, although less so when she sees me.
“My mate requires a new wardrobe,” I growl at her. “For all occasions, heat, cold, and for a gathering this evening with the baron, to whom, incidentally, you will be charging everything.”
The female looks at Maggie who sighs. “Yes, what he said.”
“Then he can leave,” the vendor says.
“I will do no such thing.”
“I have found having a male around is not conducive to a proper fitting,” she says, looking at Maggie. “So, either you go, or I cannot serve your mate.”
“Driok,” Maggie says.
