Owned by Luna Voss

28

Melyta

I lie on the bed in my little private cabin aboard the spaceship, eyes raw, chest heaving. I’ve never been on a spaceship before. I thought I might never be. In another circumstance, this would be a tremendously exciting adventure. I’ve fantasized about this moment my entire life.

Instead, I feel worse than I ever have. I’m going into heat. And the man I love, my Fated Mate, is staying behind, presumably to face consequences I can’t even imagine. He’ll never knot me again, never mark my neck, never spank me, never cover my lips with his sweet kisses.

A sob shudders through my body. Is this really the end? I’m going to spend my heat miserable on this stupid ship, flying away from him, never to see him again? Never even to find out what the fuck happened to him? Of all the orders Barion has given me, this is the first one I truly, deeply don’t want to obey.

“This is your captain speaking. All passengers, please return to your cabins. Crew, prepare for takeoff. On behalf of Rangasta Skyways, we wish you a pleasant voyage.”

I hear a background hum growing louder. The ship’s engine, probably.

And then somehow, in that moment, something snaps inside me.

Fuck this.If Barion wants me to leave Tarsheb 8, he’s going to have to drag me onto the ship and tie me down himself. Otherwise, I’m leaving this damn cabin and spending the rest of my life with him, no matter the cost. I am not going into heat miserable and alone. I am not letting him stay here to pay the price for both of us. We’re going to figure out how to solve this thing, together, and we’re going to do it with his mark on my neck.

If he doesn’t like it, he’ll just have to spank me about it.

“Ma’am, please return to your cabin,” says one of the flight crew immediately as I emerge into the hall.

“I need to get off the ship,” I tell the human woman, my voice urgent.

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” she tells me patronizingly. “We’ve already started liftoff.”

“What do you mean, we’ve started liftoff?” I shoot back. “I’m literally looking out the window right now. We’re still on the ground. We have not lifted off.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean we can just interrupt everything to let a single passenger disembark,” she informs me, doing an obnoxious impression of patient customer service. “Ma’am, I need you to return to your cabin.”

“And I need you to let me off the ship!” I yell, my temper driven by my approaching heat. “I am not getting trapped on this ship for the next week.”

“Actually, the journey is two weeks,” she corrects me.

“So let me off! We’re literally still on Tarsheb 8, which is, you know, where I want to be. Rather than wherever the fuck this ship is heading.”

“Why are you even on this ship if you don’t know where it’s going?”

“I’m not. I’m leaving. Point me to the exit?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I’ve already told you. I can’t let you off the ship once we’ve started liftoff procedures.”

“Look,” I yell at her, “I’m about to go into fucking heat, and I would really rather not do it on a crowded spaceship. Can you understand that?”

Her face softens, but only slightly. “Ma’am, if you need accommodations once we’re in flight, that can be arranged. But please, I need you to remain in your cabin until we’ve lifted off.”

Internally, I curse at her. There’s no doubt in my mind that a Voorian woman would be more understanding. Fucking humans and their monthly periods. They really don’t get it.

I return to my cabin furious, but I’m not giving up. Looking out my window, I can see a crew of men in jumpsuits fueling up the ship with a giant hose. My ass, we’re about to lift off.

So I focus my attention on the hose, trying to muster every bit of energy and focus that I have. I try to feel it, to grasp it with my mind, to have control over it.

It’s hard. The power is there, but the control, not so much. The fueling hose is bigger than anything I’ve ever moved before, far bigger, and my thoughts are a mess. I don’t think I have the focus or the discipline to do anything very specific or intentional with it.

But I don’t need to. With a burst of effort that causes me to grunt like I’m lifting something heavy, I use all of my angst, all of my intensity, all of my frustration, and mentally yank on the hose as hard as I can.

With a loud creaking sound, it strains at the ship’s fuel tank and then pops free. Glowing green launch fuel spews out in a thick jet as though from a high-pressure firehose. The workers scatter, trying to avoid the caustic goo while doing their best to futilely control the enormous fuel line.

Outside my cabin, crewmembers race down the hall. Over the loudspeaker, the captain’s voice buzzes out again:

“Folks, we seem to have a… small technical issue that the crew is dealing with. Unfortunately, we’re going to have to delay liftoff for a short while until we get this sorted. We apologize for the inconvenience.”

I stand up and grab my bag, allowing myself a small smile for the first time today.

I’m going home to my mate.