Maverick: Cat Star Legacy + Giveaway
Zetithians are back. And they’re hotter than ever…
Having the Zetithian feline gene gives Larry Tshevnoe awesome beauty, fearsome strength, sensuality and sexual prowess unmatched by any other males in the universe. But it can make the quest for true love...complicated.
Enter childhood friend and fellow Zetithian Althea Banadänsk. Her empathic powers make her the only one who can show Larry what he truly desires, and she’ll do anything to help…even if that means hiding her desperate craving for him.
But when a distress call sends them off course—and into danger—they find more than their hearts are at stake. Now it’s up to them to become the champions of truth and justice throughout the galaxy…or risk losing it all.
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“You have got to
be kidding me.”
Larry was prepared for Althea’s reaction. After all, that was pretty
much what everyone said when they first laid eyes on his ship. “Don’t worry.
She’s got it where it counts.”
“Uh-huh,” she drawled. “Sure
she does.”
“Come on now, Al. You know Mom wouldn’t let me fly around in a
no-good ship. In fact, she’s the one who found it for me.”
Jack had also taken it to the same Delfian mechanic who’d outfitted
the Jolly Roger,
which could outfly damn near any ship in the quadrant—a distinction Jack was
not only very proud of, but went to great lengths to maintain and seldom missed
an opportunity to demonstrate. Larry’s vessel, being smaller with less room to
accommodate the supercharged stardrive components, came in a close second.
“Hmm…” Althea studied the exterior, her gaze ultimately landing on
the name painted above the main hatch. “The
Three Stooges? Seriously? I mean, I get the reference, but what
kind of a name is that for a ship?”
Larry had heard that comment before too. “Did that before Moe and
Curly decided they wanted ships of their own. Never got around to changing it,
especially since I’d already had it registered. I tend to refer to it as the Stooge, but I’m probably
the only one who does.”
He stepped up to the hatch and keyed open the palm lock, then waited
while two sections of the battered hull slid up like a pair of gull’s wings.
“I’d thought of calling it the DeLorean,
but that name was already taken. Guess Mom isn’t the only ship’s captain with a
fondness for antiques.”
This time, Althea didn’t even rise to the bait, which had Larry more
than a little concerned. He’d always been able to make her laugh. Something was
different. Something even a Zetithian with the occasional prescient vision
couldn’t figure out.
His concern was short-lived, however, because the other oddity of
his starship chose to put in an appearance.
“Mother of the gods,” Althea whispered. “You might have warned me.”
To her credit, she hadn’t screamed, which was what most people did when
they met his Scorillian navigator—or sidekick
as Brak preferred to be called, a preference he seldom failed to mention.
After a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure the coast was
clear, Larry beckoned to his partner. “Hey, Brak. C’mon out and meet Althea.”
With a wave of his fluffy antennae, Brak minced down the gangplank,
holding out a barbed appendage as he approached. “I am pleased to meet you,
Althea. I’ve heard so much about you.”
Althea chose to tap the joint above Brak’s terminal pincer rather
than shaking hands with the huge insect, a move that Larry considered to be
quite prudent. “Nice to meet you, Brak. I haven’t heard one damn thing about
you.”
Brak’s antennae flattened as he rotated a bulbous eye toward Larry
while keeping the other eye aimed at Althea. “There are times when I believe
him to be ashamed of me.”
“Not ashamed,” Larry said. “Just careful. If the Baradans had known
you were on board, they might not have let us land.”
Brak thrust his mandibles forward in a gesture Larry had only
recently identified as a pout. If Althea could read Scorillians—and Larry
honestly wasn’t sure she could—having her along for the ride would go a long
way toward deciphering his shipmate’s moods. Although some of Brak’s emotions
were probably best left in the dark.
“You know I am not a carrier of the plague,” Brak whined. “Why does
this unjust stigma persist?”
Larry shrugged. “I can’t help you, Brak. Maybe if it was called
something other than the Scorillian
plague, you might be able to escape the connection, but it isn’t, so I guess
you’re stuck with it.”
“So annoying.” Brak nibbled the tip of his pincer like a nervous
Nellie biting her fingernails. “Particularly since we Scorillians have so many
other redeeming qualities.”
“Yeah. So I’ve heard.”
Brak displayed his annoyance with the usual crunching of his
mandibles. “I’ll be in my quarters if I’m needed.” With a flutter of his
translucent green wings, Brak did a quick about-face and retreated up the
gangplank.
Scorillians might have other attributes, but Brak’s ability to
navigate a ship was Larry’s particular favorite. Brak claimed he could plot a
course through a black hole and come out less than ten meters from his intended
target on the other side. While that was an obvious exaggeration, he’d certainly
never been lost—at least not to Larry’s knowledge.
Larry’s own expertise was in deep space communications, and he was
amassing a fair fortune by upgrading outdated comsystems. Since most
manufacturers would rather replace a system than upgrade it, he was able to
save his clients a considerable amount of money, and his popularity had grown
along with his bank account. He didn’t even have to advertise. Word of mouth
got him all the work he could handle.
He’d been doing the same type of work even as a teenager aboard his
parents’ ship, and while he could have set up shop somewhere, he wasn’t one to
sit around and wait. So, like the tinkers in days of old, he traveled to
wherever his services were needed, which was how he’d met Celeste.
If he’d met her on the street in Rhylos’s brothel district, where
sex pheromones were continuously pumped into the air, he would’ve discounted
the attraction entirely. But they’d met when he’d stopped off at the orphanage
to visit Onca and Kim. Since there were no airborne pheromones inside the
Palace, the only enticement was Celeste’s own personal scent, which was
alluring, if somewhat baffling.
She was pretty too. Lush, curvy figure. Long, softly curling blond
hair. Sparkling green eyes. Captivating smile. Yeah. She was very attractive, not to mention
intelligent, witty, and charming. He just couldn’t decide whether he loved her.
Perhaps he was wrong to go running off to find Althea—after all, hardly anyone
consulted an empath before choosing a mate—but since he’d known Althea all his
life, he saw no reason not to make use of her abilities. The truth was, with
everything he’d seen and heard about how much trouble the sexual prowess of
Zetithian males could cause, he didn’t trust himself. Or Celeste.
“He is
kinda moody,” Larry whispered as Brak disappeared through the hatch. “Think you
can handle that?”
Althea slung her oversized duffel bag over her shoulder and started
up the gangplank. “I’m sure we’ll get along fine as long as I don’t have to
share a bunk with him.”
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