The Pilot and the Prince: Space Wolf Chronicles

Chapter 1: In which the Pilot would like to shoot the Prince

Chapter 1

He was half-naked, bloody, filthy, injured and clearly exhausted.

Yet still the most beautiful man I'd ever seen.

If one looked up the definition of "handsome prince" on the intrawebs, his picture would definitely come up first. Prince Ral, of the House of Nightclaw, a royal house of Alsace-4, a planet of werewolves had a face that would have women from all the known human worlds throwing themselves at him.

He drew himself up, his long white hair like a perfect silken curtain around his naked muscled torso, the nearly shredded pants and barefeet, somehow adding to his primal aura of command.

"Let's get Princess and her baby to safety. We'll have to come back to Altai as soon as possible."

So that was what royalty was like. We had just rescued him and his family including an infant baby from the tiger-shifters most infamous prison and what did we get? No hello, no thanks for saving us, no introductions, nothing. Just a demand.

I triggered my exo-armor's retreat. The helmet and armor automatically opened up, folding itself into the pack on my back. "Sorry your majesty. Our orders are to escort both of you to Chandrayaan Station."

Ice blue eyes focused on me, missing absolutely nothing. It was the look of an angry predator. "You're not a werewolf."

As a soldier, I was well acquainted with the angry face, but his was something that made something deep inside me want to run and hide. Instead, I reached for the rescue pack full of additional clothing, medicine and food and extended it to him. "No. I'm an officer of the United Coalition Forces. And unfortunately for you, you are not part of my chain of command."

His nose was strong and cheekbones could cut glass, that is if there wasn't that dark stubble all over his chin. He ignored my offering. "Do you know who I am?"

Fine. I dropped the pack. It hit the floor between us with a loud thump. Let's play dumb soldier. "Look, I don't know anything about werewolf politics. But I know that I have to obey orders and my chain of command does not include you."

He stalked forward, towering over me trying to intimidate me with his height and size. "Take me to the captain of this ship, now. He will see reason."

The ship suddenly jerked to the side. I fell backwards into him as the alarms went off. I ended up with my cheek pressed up against the ridges of his naked abdomen, staring at his crotch. He smelled of dirt, grass and something else dangerously delicious.

My co-pilot's voice blared over the com. "Cap, we've got skeeters trying to get up our butt. Lots of them."

My face felt hot. I got up and ran up the stairs, to the cockpit, into my chair.

The screens surrounded me immediately. I saw a wall of red dots at our rear making for us. The fastest starfighters would catch us in the next 30 seconds if something didn't happen soon. "Starshit, Red. What are they doing, sending the entire Tigrantine Space Force after us?"

I jumped at the Prince's voice directly behind me. "They won't shoot to kill. I'm too valuable."

I didn't even have to look to know that he had taken the third chair in my cockpit. I would be furious at his invasion if I wasn't the only place he could buckle himself in and if I wasn't so busy trying to get us out of here.

I dodged a shot. The jump engines were still charging. I'd have to turn and fight the old-fashioned way for a few minutes.

So with a laugh, I did. The Tigrantine pilots were good, especially in their Cometkillers, but I was better. It was like that old First Earth martial art of Tai Chi, deflecting, reflecting but in starships. Turn, spin, drop, fire. I could feel the heavy difference between this passenger transport and my old starfighter, but they had rejacked this specifically for me, for this mission.