As night darkened the horizon, the jungle came alive with noise. Insect chirps. Howls. Hoots. Screeching from the tops of the trees. The air was rich with the symphony of the natural world.
Zara thought about what kinds of creatures must be capable of creating such a racket, and an involuntary shudder of disgust trembled through her. She had met more than enough of the planet's indigenous inhabitants; all of them could stay far, far away as far as Zara was concerned and sing their songs from a comfortable (preferably lengthy) distance.
She brushed a hand through her short auburn hair. It felt greasy and unkempt. She pulled a long strand of it down in front of her face and appraised at it. Snarled, twisted strands capped off with split ends. She stuck out her tongue in disgust. The first thing she wanted to do once she blasted off and got into the more familiar reaches of deep space was treat herself to a nice cleaning ritual on Planet Zest.
Zara sighed, closed her eyes, and imagined the scalding hot water cascading over her, the sudsy, foamy bubbles lathering every available portion of her body below the neck, the smell of soap and water, the sweet rich fragrances of perfume.
"How're you feeling?" the voice of Karh Blade said, interrupting the metal reverie. Zara opened her eyes and twisted around to look where the voice came. She couldn't help thinking what a mess she must seem- greasy hair, greasy face, wearing the same torn and dirty flight suit for the last two days; not that it mattered. Or so she told herself.
The grime and dirt, however, suited Karh Blade. His rugged features were highlighted by the unshaven bristles along his jaw, the sheen of sweat on his skin, his jet black hair messy and windblown. The splatters of mud and blood accentuated the colors of his tan vest, the dark blue undershirt, and his canvas trousers. He was the kind of man meant for the dredges and ditches of worlds. Cleaning him up would only take away everything about Karh that made him attractive.
"Lovely," Zara responded, professionally threading tones of her trademark sarcasm through the word. Unable to settle on the features of Karh for long with any sense of comfort, her eyes flicked back to the deep dark depths of the jungle.
"Where's Hunter?" she asked.
"Asleep."
"Shouldn't you be?"
"Couldn't," Karh said with a deep sigh. He leaned against a tree, regarding Zara with sharp eyes. He had been looking at her the same way since their mutual escape from Vanitoth as though the past dealings between them were all forgotten in the formation of this new but forced friendship. Zara turned her face away from him and frowned. Karh looked at her as though as she was a trophy in a glass case, something to be won and owned. He sorely underestimated her.
"You look tense," Karh said and approached her with long, confident steps. He walked without making a sound, stealthy even in heavy black boots. "Let me help you with that."
Before Zara could protest, strong hands slipped over her shoulders and fingers pressed down to massage her muscles. Her knees almost buckled from the feeling of relief that washed over her neck and shoulders and down her back in smooth, overwhelming waves. Her protest died on her tongue, and Zara felt her eyes roll back into her head. She'd had massages before, all manner of good and professional massages, but never before had they felt as good as Karh's present one.
Her head felt light, her mind high on the released stress.
"Feels... good," she managed. Her head lolled on her neck. Karh's hands rubbed her shoulders, moved down; fingers tickled along Zara's neck, then her clavicle and slid down the deep grove of skin leading into the dip of her shirt. When Karh's hands caressed the slope of her breast and slipped over her nipple, catching it between his thumb and forefinger, Zara gulped air and came back to reality.
This could not happen. She could not let it happen.
"What do you think you're doing?" she said. She didn't tear his hand away from her breast, but she stopped Karh Blade with her tone of her voice all the same. He froze, his knuckles holding Zara's hardened nipple in a slight grip.
"Nothing that you don't want," Karh replied, his voice soft in her ear. Zara felt lightheaded and knew that he was right- she DID want it. But she couldn't let him know that. At the end of the day, he was just a bounty, and she was better than him, better than a moment of physical pleasure and lapse of judgment.
"If you're trying to seduce me," she said and pulled his hand by the wrist out of the front of her shirt, "you're going to have to do better than that."
In response, Karh wrapped his arms around her waist and forced her back into him. Zara opened her mouth to protest, and then she felt his hands dip into the pants of her flight suit.
Hands swept lower, warm on her cool skin.
She struggled, but Karh was strong, stronger than she expected. Nor did Zara struggle as much as she should have, but a part of her wanted this to happen, wanted Karh to overpower her and force his body on her. Into her.
No, she would stop him before it got that far. Karh had to know that there were some lines not to be crossed, and Zara was not something he could take as he pleased.
She gasped as his fingers found her, teased her, manipulated heat and moisture out of her, and Zara's struggles turned to a kind of writhing against Karh. She could feel his hard lust straining against the curve of her rump, prodding her through the fabric of their clothes. She fought to maintain her defenses, to not give in and let the desperate need pounding her heart take over and control her.
His finger slid into her. Zara gritted her teeth and gave a low moan.
Then she slid her blaster out of its holster and moved her arm back, jamming the barrel into Karh Blade's ribs. Karh jerked in response, slowly withdrew his hands and raised them over his head. Zara turned to face him, careful to keep the blaster aimed at Karh's chest. Her flight pants protruded where Karh had unbuckled them and trespassed, but Zara didn't bother fixing them. She wanted Karh to see what he couldn't have, where he had touched but would no longer, how easily she could rebuff his advances.
"Don't take what doesn't belong to you," Zara said. "Always ask."
His voice came soft and hurt: "Can I?"
"Never."
Then a new voice cut through the darkness: "Zara!"
Zara swung towards it, readying her blaster, and said with relief, "Henrik?"
***
Dawn broke orange and yellow across the horizon, casting bright colors through the thick jungle canopy. Dew dripped like fat tears.
Lorna straightened her helmet as she approached the Queen with the bad news. The helmet had once been the head of a fearsome predator, a snake that had proved to be a challenging and formidable foe to the Captain; now it served as a declaration of Lorna's own intimidation. It also helped her remember that luck was almost as an integral component of a champion's arsenal as preparation and strategy. Lorna composed herself as she came to a halting stop before the Queen.
