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The norkie turned her attention to Striker. She sniffed the air then hopped closer.

He waited until the creature was within touching distance then scooped her up under her front paws and rested her butt in his hand.

The norkie gave another startled squeak and wriggled in his grip.

Striker strode to the cage. “You see. There’s nothing to worry about.”

The norkie growled and sank her teeth deep into his palm.

“What the friggin’ hell? Wren, get this off me!” He tried to ease his fingers between the norkie’s teeth, but she held on tight.

“Careful! You don’t want to hurt her.”

“I do! She’s chewing through my hand!” He looked up at Wren and scowled. “You’re trying not to laugh. How is this funny?”

“It’s a tiny norkie. She’s hardly going to bite down to the bone.” Wren shook her head. “You should never pick one up like that. Norkies are sensitive about their hindquarters. Give her to me.” She held out one arm.

“Are you insane? She’ll bite you, too.” Striker winced as the norkie growled. This thing was a furry nightmare. How could something so cute be so evil?

Wren stepped nearer and extended her arm right in front of the norkie. “Step on, angel. Wrap yourself around this.”

The norkie didn’t hesitate. She released her vicious hold on Striker’s arm and leaped onto Wren. She curled her tail around Wren’s wrist and flattened her belly along her arm then nuzzled the crook of her elbow and purred.

Striker inspected the bite on his palm, which oozed blood from a row of pinprick holes. “You could have told me that was how you picked up a norkie.”

The laugh that sprung out of Wren made his heart warm, even though she was laughing at him. He hoped the coldness between them was thawing.

“I could have, but if you read the mission briefs, you’d know how to tame a norkie. Just stick to the rules and you won’t go wrong.” Wren kissed the top of the creature’s evil little head.

Striker’s scowl only deepened as a door closed over his heart. There it was, summed up in front of him, the reason they’d never be compatible. Wren was a rule maker, and he was a rule breaker. The two opposites would never work, no matter how hot the kissing was.

Chapter 8

“Urgh! Hmmm. Where am I?” Wren rolled over, and her nose hit a cold metal wall. She blinked as her confusion faded. The crash landing. The animals. The mind blowing kisses with Striker. His hand inside her pants.

She smacked her lips together and grimaced. There were about two inches of her body that didn’t feel like she’d gone a round with a super-sized killer cyborg. Even with the energy exchange from Striker, it would take a while to heal.

He’d insisted she get some sleep once all the animals were caged and treated. If she hadn’t been dead on her feet and aching all over, she’d have protested harder, but the second her head hit the thin pillow, she’d gone into a deep sleep.

“Ship, how long have I been asleep?”

“System compromised. Request not permitted.”

Wren groaned as she sat up and rolled her shoulders. She’d found a Gente’s sleeping quarters to use. Although the sheets weren’t clean, all she’d cared about was passing out. She’d slept in her clothes, so she simply wriggled out from under the sheets and pushed her feet into her boots.

“Ship, give me a system’s report. Can we fly, yet?”

“That request is denied.”

“Huh? Are you still malfunctioning?”

“No. Basic systems are operational. You do not have authorization to access that information.”

“For star’s sake. Who does have authorization?”

“Striker Bandidar is my new master and commander. All authorization requests must come from him.”

“That arrogant alien. I’m going to throttle him.” She stood and headed out of the bedroom and along the short corridor to the cockpit. She looked inside. Striker was nowhere to be seen.