LunarReunion by Shona Husk Page A

tentacles could do and the pleasure that could be had. At night
she’d imagined Filid doing those things to her. But he was long gone from her
life by then, on another ship and on another mission. Interspecies porn had
been hot property in the APM, as if watching what they couldn’t do would take
the edge off the need.
    On cruise liners the no-frat rule applied to staff and
passengers—sometimes that rule made for a long stretch between fucks. She
needed to get laid in the next ten trics before she was due back on the Lunar
Bird . Her body was making mating pheromones and she was sure the other
pilot had wrinkled his nose in disgust when they’d swapped shifts.
    Pity he was immune to his own scent, somewhere between
rotting hairfruit and ghabra dung. However, interspecies
relations had been drummed into her by the APM, and she knew how to be polite
even if the other pilot didn’t.
    The pilots’ bar was the perfect place to find someone. Reserved
for pilots and navigators of the ships that docked, it was the Moon’s way of
saying “thank you and spend some extra chits”. It was also a way of picking up
an easy lay that didn’t expect her to swap plex numbers.
    She glanced at the Klokian again, memories of Filid
now close to the surface. With a sway of her hips she sauntered over to the bar
with the sole aim of getting her complimentary drink and getting the Klokian male into a bed…or at least into a quiet dark corner in one of the many shows.
    His tentacles lifted up as if he was sensing her move
closer, the movement was so familiar a lump formed in her throat. Maybe this
was a bad idea and she should pick someone else. Then he turned his head. His
strong nose was in profile for a moment before he swiveled on his seat.
    Her heart forgot to beat.
    Filid. My Filid.
    She almost broke step.
    Of all the men, in all the bars, on all the inhabited moons.
    He was as beautiful as ever, but the apparent fragility of
his white, almost luminescent, skin was a lie. It was like armor, tough and not
quite smooth, and you never bet against a Klokian in a fist fight—she’d
learned that one the hard way when she’d first joined the APM.
    Filid scanned her uniform. “ Lunar Bird ?”
    Silva nodded and took the seat next to him. “It’s bit
clunkier than an APM xi-wing.” She smiled, hoping to see a flicker of
recognition in his dark-blue eyes.
    Did he remember her as the pilot he’d almost seduced? Or was
she just another brown, spotted alien in his eyes? She hadn’t been once. She
remembered his eyes being hot with lust. Right now there was lukewarm interest.
    He seemed more guarded than he had been. Had he learned to
put up walls?
    That he was so open was one of the reasons she’d been so
attracted. He came from a society that was based on honor and honesty—it had to
be when thoughts were virtually on display. She came from a place where lying
and cheating to get ahead was expected. After the war Lekithia was
ruined.
    His expression didn’t change as he gave her a more thorough
inspection. Did he see her not-so-polished boots and her less than perfectly
pressed uniform? She no longer had to maintain the high APM standards of dress.
However, her hair was braided, as it always had been. His gaze paused on her
hair. She remembered him running his hands over her braid and bringing to his
lips. He’d been as fascinated in her hair as she’d been by his tentacles. Yet
there was nothing more in his eyes when his gaze settled on her again.
    Filid didn’t know her.
    Silva tried to ignore the stab of pain that caused. She’d
thought of him often in the five years since she’d left the APM. Had he moved
on and forgotten her? Obviously he had.
    She wanted to say something but didn’t want to make the
first move. Since he didn’t remember her it would be awkward. However, the old
attraction was still there. She wanted him, and this time she could have him.
If she also pretended not to know him. Could she push aside the