Chapter 10

10

T raax woke slowly, his mind rising from a deep, dreamless sleep. He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the dim light of his quarters. For a moment he was disoriented and confused, his body heavy and sluggish. He usually slept lightly, awake at any movement or sound around him. He couldn't remember sleeping so deeply or completely since he'd left childhood behind.

Suddenly he was aware of the warm weight pressed against his side and a soft rhythmic breathing that wasn't his own.

Zara .

The events of the previous night came rushing back... their poker game, his outburst, and carrying her to his quarters so he could tend to her injury. And then... He swallowed hard, his pulse quickening at the memory of her lips on his, her body beneath his as he'd claimed her as his.

He looked down. Her head rested on his arm and shoulder, her auburn hair fanning out over his skin. In sleep, her face was relaxed, the lines of stress and determination smoothed away. She looked younger, more vulnerable. Something fierce and protective surged in his chest, a primal need to protect her coming over him.

Not wanting to wake her, he traced a finger gently along the delicate line of her collarbone. His touch lingered on a small scar, a thin white line against her pale skin. Anger flared in him at the thought of her being hurt. She was a fighter pilot. His stomach clenched. She could have been taken from him before he'd even met her.

Never again, he vowed silently. She would be cherished and protected as his mate. She would never have to risk herself in battle, never have to face the dangers that all pilots faced daily. He would keep her safe, here in his arms, for the rest of her life.

As if she felt him watching her, she stirred, her eyelids fluttering open.

For a moment she seemed as disoriented as he was, an adorable little line between her brows as she frowned. Then her eyes met his and a slow, sleepy smile curved her lips.

"What are you thinking about?" she murmured, her voice husky with sleep.

He smiled back, his heart swelling with a joy he'd never known before. "I'm thinking I am blessed," he rumbled, tightening his arms around her. "That I look forward to waking up like this with you for the rest of our lives."

But instead of the happy assent he expected, Zara's expression hardened, the look in her eyes suddenly flat and unreadable.

She pushed away from him, sat up, and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

Confusion filled him for a moment. What had he done? Had he said the wrong thing? Then understanding dawned, and he smiled as he relaxed back against the pillows.

He knew what this was. She was newly claimed. It was right that she should be shy and need a moment to collect herself. It was only natural for a female to be reserved with her new mate and to need time to adjust to the change in their relationship.

He sighed deeply, pleased that she was no longer putting up the hard, brash front she had with the other pilots. With him, she could be soft and feminine. Protected.

But his good mood disappeared as she stood and gathered her clothes, dressing with quick, sharp movements.

"Zara?" he asked, sitting up. "What are you doing?"

She didn't look at him as she pulled on her boots, her shoulders tense.

"Leaving," she said, her voice clipped. "This was a mistake."

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut.

"A mistake?" he repeated, his voice dangerously low. "How can you say that? After what we shared?"

She glanced over her shoulder, finally meeting his gaze.

"It was just sex, Traax," she said, her voice flat. "Don't make more of it than it is."

He was on his feet in an instant, anger and hurt fighting for dominance.

"Just sex?" he growled, advancing on her. "You think I would claim you, make you my mate, for just sex?"

Her eyes widened, shock rippling across her face.

"Wait... what? Your mate?" She let out a short laugh, running a hand through her hair. "Are you crazy?"

He jumped as if she'd hit him, the rejection cutting deep.

"You don't mean that," he growled, reaching for her. "You're just confused, overwhelmed. You need time to adjust. That's all."

But she danced out of his reach, her hands held out in front of her like a shield.

"No," she said firmly, her expression hard. "I'm not confused, Traax. I won't be your mate. Not now, not ever."

Anger and despair clawed at his throat, making his words harsh and guttural.

"You can't deny what's between us," he insisted. "You felt it as well. I know you did."

She shook her head.

"What I felt was a moment of weakness," she said, her voice hard. "A lapse in judgment. One that won't happen again."

She turned to leave, but he caught her arm and pulled her back to him. "You will not walk away from me," he growled, his eyes flashing with anger. "Not after last night. Not after I claimed you."

She met his gaze unflinchingly, her eyes shards of purple ice.

"Let me go," she said, her voice deadly calm.

For a long moment they stared at each other, the air between them crackling with tension. His grip on her arm tightened and his jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached.

How could she do this? How could she deny what they had, what they could be? He had never wanted anyone as much as he wanted her, never felt as complete as he did with her in his arms. The thought of losing her now, of watching her walk away, was unbearable.

But when he looked into her eyes, he saw no softness, no hint of the passion they'd shared. Only steel.

Slowly, feeling like he was tearing his own heart out, he let her go.

She stepped back immediately, putting distance between them.

"This never happened," she said, her voice hard. "We go back to the way things were. Do you understand?"

He wanted to argue, to rage and storm and demand that she come to her senses. But the look on her face, the utter finality in her eyes, stopped him.

"Understood," he said with a sharp nod.

She nodded curtly. Then she turned on her heel and walked out of his quarters, the door closing behind her with a soft hiss.

He stood there for a long moment, staring at it, half hoping she would return. But she didn't.

She was gone.

With a roar of rage and pain, he lashed out, his fist slamming into the wall. The metal buckled under the force of the blow, leaving a dent. The pain slowly gave way to anger, hot and bitter in his throat. Good. Anger was good. Because if she thought she could walk away from him after he'd claimed her, when she might even now be carrying his offspring, she had another think coming.

He was Traax K'Saan, duke and lord starfighter of the Latharian Empire.

And he always got what he wanted.

Zara stalked through the corridors, her boots thudding against the metal floor. What the fuck was it with guys and sex? You did the deed, and you either didn't see them for dust or they upped and wanted to get married. There was no in between. And no way on Earth, or any other planet, would she marry His Grace, Duke High and Mighty Traax, Lord Starfighter of the Latharian Empire.

"Asshole men… no, asshole alien men," she muttered under her breath as she made it back to the barracks they'd been assigned. The door slid open ahead of her and stole the chance to yank it open, which irritated the fuck out of her. She stalked through it and the familiar scent of gun oil hit her before she'd made it two steps.

Crash and Havoc looked up from their bunks, where they were cleaning handguns. Their teasing smiles faded when they caught sight of her expression. She stalked past them to her bunk and the locker built into the wall beside it. At least that door she could yank open, causing a very satisfying crash as it slammed into the wall.

"Morning, boss," Echo said from her perch on the edge of her bunk, the one next to Zara's.

She grunted in reply, not trusting herself to speak without snapping at someone who didn't deserve it. And Echo most definitely didn't. None of the women did. She was the idiot. She'd warned all of them to keep it in their pants. Had she taken her own advice? No, she had not.

Grabbing her shower kit, she slammed the door shut with more force than necessary just because it was Latharian. As she turned, she caught a whiff of herself. Skin, smoke from the bar last night, and sex. She grimaced. Traax's scent clung to her, bringing forth unwanted memories of the way his hard body had felt against hers.

She needed his scent off her. Now. Sooner.

"Fuck it. I need a shower," she growled to the empty air and marched toward the door to the facilities.

Her jaw clenched as she stepped inside. She wasn't alone. Her fingers tightened around her towel and kit, popping her knuckles white. Nova was already there, water and suds splattering against the tiled wall as she washed her hair. She glanced sideways as Zara turned on the shower two down from her, her blue eyes assessing.

Zara didn't offer a greeting, and neither did Nova. Of all the women on the team, Nova was the only other pilot with as much experience as she had. She had no idea why General Allen had picked her for command of the One-Ten instead of Nova. Especially when she obviously had such shocking lapses in judgment as sleeping with the damn lord starfighter.

She stripped off her clothes, leaving them dumped on the floor to pick up later, and stepped under the hot spray. Tipping her head back, she let the water run over her face. Was it possible to drown yourself in a shower? If she did, she'd never have to face?—

Growling to herself, she grabbed the soap and started to scrub furiously. If wishes were horses, she could wash away the memory of Traax's touch along with his scent. Working the shampoo into a lather, she swore when her hair tangled around her fingers and her nails caught her scalp.

Nova finished and snapped off the shower, wrapping a towel around herself. But she didn't leave. Instead, Zara felt her stare boring into her back and tensed up. There were going to be questions. She knew there were going to be questions.

But they didn't come.

Instead, Nova sighed.

"I am just going to say one thing," she said, her clipped voice echoing off the tiled walls. "Nobody gets married to an alien. Remember?"

Then she was gone, leaving Zara alone with the hiss of the water and the storm of her own thoughts.

She braced her hands against the cool tiles and let her head fall forward as the water pounded against the taut muscles of her neck and shoulders. Heat prickled the backs of her eyes, blurring her vision. She wasn't crying, no way, no how. She didn't cry over men, especially not arrogant Latharian assholes who thought one night of mediocre sex would convince her to accept a proposal.

No, the stinging in her eyes was just soap. That was all. She blinked furiously, willing the tears away. And it wasn't mediocre sex, she admitted begrudgingly. It had been great sex. Red hot sex. The best fucking sex she'd ever had.

The worst part was that for a moment there she'd let herself believe that maybe this could be something more. That maybe, just maybe, she'd found someone who understood her…someone who could see past the hard exterior to the woman underneath.

But it was just a fantasy. A stupid fantasy born of great sex and too much alcohol. Traax didn't want her, not really. He wanted a tame little woman who would giggle and bow and scrape at his feet. Not a starfighter pilot with a big mouth and a bigger attitude when it came to asshole men stomping all over her rights.

Anger surged through her veins, hot and bitter. She welcomed it, used it to fuel her mood as she finished her shower and dried herself off with jerky, agitated movements. Dressing quickly in a clean uniform, she took a deep breath as the familiar weight of the stiff fabric settled over her shoulders like armor. Then she straightened her spine, squared her shoulders, and lifted her chin.

Regardless of what had happened last night, it didn't change anything. She was here, she was in command of the One-Ten, and she had a job to do. She wasn't going to be derailed by a night of incredible sex and even more incredible stupidity. Traax could go fuck himself, for all she cared. She was done with him. So done with him.

Walking out of the showers, she almost collided with Crash, leaning against the wall outside. The shorter woman looked up at Zara, her dark eyes sparkling with mischief.

"So, bosslady," she drawled, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "You didn't come back to the barracks last night. Have a little too much fun at the poker game?"

Zara growled, walking past her. "Not in the mood, Crash."

But Crash just laughed, falling into step. "Ooh, touchy. That good, huh?"

She shot her a glare, but Crash just waggled her eyebrows, utterly unrepentant. "Oh, come on, boss, not the first time any of us have done the walk of triumph."

She blinked, looking down at the other woman. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

"Fuck yeah, baby!" Crash fist-pumped the air. "Why should it be shame? What've we got to be ashamed about?"

She almost cracked a smile at that.

"Nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing."

"Exactly, boss! See, I knew you'd see it my way."

The door to the barracks slid open, Echo and Havoc spilling out. They took one look at Zara's stormy expression and Crash's shit-eating grin and seemed to come to a silent agreement.

"Boss," Havoc said, her hazel eyes serious. "You okay?"

Zara blew out a breath, running a hand through her damp hair. "Yeah, I'm fine," she bit out. "Just a little too much to drink last night. Won't happen again."

The barracks felt too small, the walls closing in around her. She needed air, needed space to breathe. She grabbed her jacket and headed for the door.

"I'm going for a walk," she tossed over her shoulder. "Clear my head before patrol. Tell Nova she can reach me on comms if she needs me."