Free Heart of Stone by Cathryn Cade Page B

Hell of an awning."
    They paused on the wide porch to stomp
the snow off their boots, and walked into the lodge.
     
    # # #
     
     
    Rose woke slowly, stretching sinuously
under the soft coverlet. She smiled at the sweet repletion of her
body. But as her eyes opened, she stared uncomprehendingly at the
unfamiliar sight of a maroon bulkhead.
    She winced as she recalled exactly
where she was. She had done it again, let Masterson love her into
unconsciousness. The man should be illegal. He probably would be on
any planet but Frontiera.
    She blushed at the thought of
reentering the cockpit. Jark would certainly know what she and his
boss had been doing. But she wasn't going to hide in here for the
rest of the flight. She needed to wash in the tiny bathroom—her
inner thighs were sticky with Stone's cum.
    Her clothing was draped over the foot
of the bed. On top lay her small laser gun. She smiled to herself.
Masterson had obviously figured out she wasn't going to shoot him.
In fact, the thought of any injury occurring to that magnificent
body made her stomach roll.
    She washed and wriggled into her
panties, but couldn't find her bra anywhere in the covers or beside
the bed. Finally she gave up, pulled on the lace-trimmed camisole
and reached for her sweater. She smiled to herself—sex on a
cruiser.
    She could picture Farah, her culinary
school roommate and best friend, squealing with delight. She
certainly hoped this sat-com project worked. She was tired of being
cut off from her friends.
    A strange, sibilant hiss sounded from
beyond the tiny room. She froze with her sweater in her hands.
There was a muffled thump, and then the sound again, this time
accompanied by a garbled utterance. The timbre sent chills racing
over her bare skin.
    There was something out there … and it
was not human.
     
    # # #
     
     
    As he walked into the Bone Arch Lodge,
Jark close behind him, Stone swept the main room with a look. The
area doubled as a bar and restaurant. Rough hewn of local wood, the
walls were hung with the mounted heads of big game. As Jark opined,
skrog were one of the ugliest, smelliest creatures ever to grace a
planet, but their size and ferocious appearance made them a popular
target for off-planet hunters. Catamounts with their eyes slitted,
fangs gleaming for the attack, and velvet-muzzled hormoose with
graceful drooping ears and flared black antlers filled in the
displays.
    And for those who preferred their
entertainment alive, a monumental holo-vid glimmered above the
tables. A male singer postured, showing off his physique and his
melting amber gaze as he sang. The sound, however, wavered, nearly
drowned out by the voices in the room. Even galactic singing star
Chaz Jaguari couldn't conquer the poor reception in a Bone Arch
snowstorm.
    This morning everyone was ignoring the
crooner anyway. On one side of the central hearth sat three tables
of hard-eyed men and women wearing the local working costume of
warm underpinnings, utility vests or jackets, and leggings. Many
were eating a morning meal, some just enjoying a hot drink. A few
nodded to the newcomers, nudged their neighbors. Conversation
faded.
    On the other side of the room sat a
Mauritian, a humanoid with a strange purple-blue cast to his skin
and hair. Tar Mobius smiled when he saw Stone, not a pleasant sight
to the uninitiated. His yellow eyes flared, crooked teeth gleaming.
The motley crew surrounding him were also Mauritian, nine
tough-looking characters with a feral light in their eyes. A couple
of them were nearly as big as Jark.
    Two men and a woman lounged in neutral
territory, close to the tarma-wood fire crackling in the hearth.
Skrog hunters, Masterson deduced. Slim and tanned, they were warmly
attired in fashionable winter wear. From a much warmer planet,
too—they were sitting with their feet practically in the hot fire.
The three regarded him and Jark with polite interest.
    "Great," Jark muttered. "Tourists. Hope
they can duck."
    "Nay," Masterson