Free Coletti Warlords: Just Desserts by Gail Koger

mold. Double ick.
    The hillbilly’s beady black eyes wandered over me with lecherous intent. He was probably those poor girls’ pimp.
    “He tries to touch me, I’ll gut him.”
    “I’ll deal with the master trader. You get the supplies we need,” Talree instructed.
    “Yes, sir.” Normally, I loved to shop, but all I wanted to do was get the hell away from the pervert.
    Talree put the still-bleeding skins on the counter. The hillbilly picked one up and licked the blood off.
    My stomach roiled. That was just nasty.
    Talree broke into some kind of lingo that sounded like a bunch of clucks, chirps, and whistles. I linked with him, and the clucks, chirps, and whistles became words.
    “Master Trader, these are from freshly killed Afula. The texture of the leather has not yet changed.”
    I headed for the racks of clothing. My uniform shirt and jeans were covered in Afula blood and slime and reeked of sweat. I’d kill for something clean to wear.
    My busy kids kept the area clear of wildlife while I sorted through the overalls, looking for anything not dripping with slime. I found one that looked like it would fit me and held it up. It was an ugly mildew green. I scraped the fabric with my nail. Oh, gross. It was covered in alien fungus.
    I hung it back up and found another pair. Mustard yellow wasn’t really my color, but at least it wasn’t growing anything toxic. I rooted around until I found an overall that would fit a six-foot-eight, three-hundred-pound predator.
    A bunch of jars caught my attention. I wandered over and concentrated. The symbols became words. I did a happy dance. Shampoo! Soap! Insect repellant and a comb. I snagged them and noticed the knives. Hot dang.
    My arms piled high with goodies, I staggered toward the fruit section. I picked up what looked like a banana but smelled more like a peach. I added some to the pile. Damn, where was a shopping cart when you needed one?
    “Females. Put them in a shop, and they buy everything in sight.”
    I peered up at Talree. “If the trader skunked you, I can put some back.”
    “Skunked?”
    “Cheated you.”
    Talree scowled. “Coletti warriors are never cheated.”
    I swallow a laugh. “Imagine that. So, I take it you did good?”
    “I am Coletti.”
    “And not a humble bone in your body.”
    He sorted through my pile. “Excellent choices.” He grabbed a knife and slid it into his boot.
    “Whoa there. The knives are mine.”
    Talree cocked an amused eyebrow. “Are they?”
    “Yeah, get your own.”
    “Three aren’t enough?”
    A cricket critter skittered by. I eyed it warily. “Lots of stuff to kill here.”
    “Indeed there is.” He scooped up my shopping and handed me a bottle. “Datol. Nectar of the Goddess.”
    I pressed the ice-cold bottle against my face. I had died and gone to heaven. Quickly popping the top off, I took a swallow and groaned. Beer. Cold beer. Or what passed for beer in this neck of the woods. “You’re a keeper.”
    “The Master Trader is waiting to show me his boats, and one of his females has prepared a meal for you.”
    My stomach rumbled. “Food! Where?”
    He grinned and pointed to a rust-covered table under the awning. “It’s not a steak, but I think you will be pleased.” He tilted my chin up with one hand, and his eyes bored into mine. “Do not talk to any of the traders or wander off.”
    Did he think I was stupid or what? Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a cockroach thingy crawling across the porch and twitched. “You really think I want to go sightseeing here? Or talk to that?”
    “The Romi are intelligent beings.”
    “I don’t care if that bug is a Mensa candidate. It gives me the heebie-jeebies.”
    “You must learn not to judge life-forms by their appearance. I am a Warlord, and as my mate, you will meet many species.”
    Warlord? How utterly wonderful. “So, it’s your job to run around the galaxy conquering worlds?”
    A wolfish smile curved Talree’s mouth. “We take what we