She launched herself out the door, landing in his arms. Catching her with breath-snatching ease, he didn't even grunt with the burden of her added weight. He spun her and let her slide down the length of him. Heat of another sort assaulted her, making her knees weak. His males watched, some scowling, others nodding.

"There are rooms on the ship, plenty for you and your males to use. Jasmine used to be a traveling research ship. The owner left it to my father before he..." She glanced away, biting her lip to still her sudden tears.

"You lost your father too?" Anzar captured her hand in his and traced a pattern on her open palm. "I am sorry, temaar."

"They found him under the debris, his wounds almost fatal. The news of Cammy and Harper's deaths..." Molly shrugged, spun her hand to grasp his and tugged him toward Jasmine. "The entrance is this way. Call your males to follow." The door slid open as they approached her ship, and she stepped into the cooler and darker confines. She led Anzar along various passages and through the cargo hold. Climbing a ladder wasn't the quickest way to reach the upper deck, but it used the least amount of power. The passage would lead the males past their cabins.

"Need anything or have any questions, just ask MARC."

"I'm available as needed," MARC's voice reverberated off the bulkheads.

"He's everywhere on the ship, and I mean everywhere. Inside each cabin is a shower, use it. I promise you won't regret it. When you're ready, ask MARC to direct you to the mess hall. MARC, explain the intricacies of the shower and laundry closet."

"Acknowledged, oh-captain."

"Damn rust bucket," she mumbled.

"Do I get a ... cabin?" Anzar asked as he trailed behind her.

"Yes, of course. As Chieftain, an officer's cabin is yours to use." She twisted to watch him climb up, his shoulders brushing the sides.

"Is it close to yours?"

"There are two empty cabins close to mine," Molly said as she climbed another ladder to the upper deck. It was a smaller section of the ship with more viewing panels. Palming the door, she entered the cabin when the light flashed green. "This is yours."

She strode to the open-plan bathroom. "You step into the cubicle like this. It will adjust to accommodate your size." She demonstrated and stroked the white dial on the wall. "This dial sets the temperature. Twist it to the left for colder, to the right for hotter. Press the center to switch the water on or off." She darted to the wall, pressed it, and the door swung open. "Toilet."

"Toilet?" He frowned.

"Yes, it's not a hole in a cave, though I like the ambience of yours." She smiled. "It flushes automatically. Press here to close, and this panel is for cleaning. Place your garments inside before you shower, and when you step out, use the towels. Your clothes will be clean by the time you're dry."

"Where do you go?" He scanned the room, walking to the windows to peer at the jungle and cliffs dominating the view.

"To my cabin." She would be there quicker if he would let her leave. An honest-to-goodness hot shower awaited her and with shampoo. She shivered in anticipation of hot water sliding over her back and easing the tension in her muscles.

Anzar twisted to look at her. "Show me, please, temaar."

After studying his concerned expression, she nodded. "It's not far. This cabin is the closest one to mine." She stepped through the door and thumped down the passage, stopping at the door next to his. Entering her cabin, she paused to draw in a deep breath. Home. "See, just like yours."

"Now shower," Anzar said, folding his arms across his expansive chest.

"What?" She frowned, doubting she had heard him correctly. "Why?"

"You are to be protected." He lifted his chin in a stubborn tilt.

She huffed, throwing her arms out wide. "There's nothing here that could harm me."

"I do not know this, temaar." A pulse ticked at his jawline, the only thing moving on his stiff body.

"Fine, but this time you will be polite or so help me, Anzar..." Her threat dwindled, lacking substance. There was nothing coming to mind to threaten him with. "Or I will never kiss you again."

"I concede," he said, and a bright smile burst across his face.

She glanced away, lest she change her mind, lest she demand he shower with her.

At this thought, she rushed to her unmade bed, sitting down to yank off her boots. When the dagger fell out, she ignored it, too eager to shower. She ripped off the holster and airgun, tossing it onto her bed. Jumping to her feet, she removed his tunic, but when she gripped the zipper of her jumpsuit, she stilled.

Her gaze rested on Anzar's and waited. He sighed and walked to the glass windows to stare at the surrounding jungle. She unzipped her jumpsuit, not even attempting to be seductive or vindictive. He wasn't watching, and she was too impatient. Racing to the shower, she stepped into the cubicle, hitting the center button on the dial. It was pre-set for her so the water pouring out was at the perfect temperature.

She moaned, lifting her face into the spray while she slid her hands over her hips. This felt so good. She didn't care if he snuck a peak, she didn't care if she took too much time. She soaped and rinsed, shampooed, and conditioned. With a sigh, she deactivated the water and stepped out, wrapping the towel around her, twisting her hair up in another. Only then did she glance at Anzar. He had his white-fingered hands pressed to the window with a stiff posture like he was in pain.

"Anzar?" Hoping not to startle him, she whispered his name. He rumbled in response. "Your turn."

He spun around, and his gaze traveled the length of her to rest on her face. Within a few strides, he was cupping her elbows to keep her in place as he gazed into her eyes. He dipped his face into the curve of her neck and inhaled.

"Mother," he rumbled. "You smell good."

"You can too. Um, not that you smell bad, quite the opposite." She clamped her lips shut, blushing at what she had revealed. Holy shit, open mouth, swap feet. She had to admit she didn't have the skill set to handle this much sexuality. "You can shower here. I'll just grab you a few towels."

"Will you be polite?" he asked, his lips curling into his breathtaking smile as she drowned in his gaze. He toyed with an escaped tendril, wrapping it around a finger.

"Yes," she said. "Though I shouldn't be. You've seen me naked many times."

"Agreed. I will need your guidance, temaar."

"You will?" she gasped.

"I scented various fragrances. Why so many?" He released her to pull off his fur, dropping it to the steel floor. Her gaze caught and lingered on his rippling pecs. She dipped her tongue to lick her dry lips. The poor male wasn't even aware how sinfully sexy he was. He sat on her bed as she had done, to remove his boots. Rising to his feet, dominating her room, he tugged off his harem-style pants, then his underwear he called kemtoch.

She couldn't look away, even if a Vargosh pressed an airgun to her temple. Holy shit, he was massive with rippling muscles in the most beautiful of places. With fire burning her cheeks, his impressive erection held her riveted. He was aroused? Tingling fire slithered down her throat to harden her nipples and engulf her pelvis in a pool of liquid heat. In desperation, she scooped up his fur, and gripped it to her chest, hoping to hide her ragged breathing and trembling fingers. Wow, he looked human down there, if not on the big side.

And a naked female arousing him was expected. How many females did he get to see naked? It wasn't as if he wanted her, Molly Lambert, though she suspected he wouldn't mind if she chose him as her mate. Any female would have caused the same reaction, though, not necessarily her. Her thoughts circled each other with her desperate need to focus on her point, any female would do. She gathered up his kemtoch and pants, as well, and placed them in the laundry closet.

When she faced the bed, it was to find him striding into the cubicle. His ass was as tight as she had imagined, dipping down into sculpted thighs. Her mouth watered. Okay, so he looked edible, like hard, glossy toffee. Forcing herself to quit staring, she ripped off the towel on her head and hung it in the laundry closet, as well. With fresh towels clasped like a shield in front of her, she trudged to the shower like a prisoner on death row.