Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

ALINA

A lina had washed herself with the still-damp towel she'd used to hydrate Threxin earlier that night. She was out of water rations for the day, but at least that was one plus: she wouldn't have to use her H 2 O on his damn apertures tomorrow. Alina shivered as she wiped herself off in her shower cubicle, the cloth long since chilled. But even the goosebumps forming on her skin couldn't keep her from fixating on his words.

She was bad for healing. Bad at taking care of him.

He was an asshole, but he wasn't wrong. It was because of her that he had disturbed his wound that first time. If she had been more careful, she'd never have fallen on the damn alien in the first place. And it was she that got herself all bloody and stupid when she looked at him. Whatever happened made him cringe away so suddenly that it hurt his head and his chest. And she just sat there like an idiot when he… well, it wasn't a kiss. He'd made that explicitly clear. But that part wasn't entirely her fault. What else was she supposed to do? Reject him? The uhyre who could overpower her and snap her neck like that if he'd wanted? How do you fucking object to that, even if you wanted to ?

Only fear wasn't what kept her from asking him to stop… And that part was her fault.

Sleep was elusive. After a while she got out of bed and spent an hour scrubbing her green throw rug with washing powder, getting the remnants of dried blood from the grasslike strands. Once there was no more to clean, she sat in bed solving her cube puzzle—all colors on one side, scramble, repeat.

At least dwelling on her mistakes was a great distraction from the thing she really didn't want to think about. How every tiny hair on her arms stood on end when he did… whatever the hell that was, if not a kiss. The commander was an invader. An uhyre invader. She was just confused from having him vulnerable in her cabin for days. Her brain was messing with her after being forced into caretaker mode.

Well, no risk of that happening again.

He'd done her a favor by shattering the illusion of any actual… what was it, anyway? Affection? Well, it was gone real quick, thank you very much.

At least something good came out of the incident. Threxin had stormed out and Alina had her cabin to herself again. No more worrying about an alien or sleeping on the floor. No more apertures or getting grabbed out of nowhere.

At 0700 the next morning, Alina stood with her hands propped on either side of her sink, staring at herself in her bathroom mirror. She knew there would be no end to this self-flagellation for a while, coping strategies be damned.

She should've already picked up Kaia's breakfast. Alina got ready mechanically, splashing cold water on her face a few times too many—a waste—to shock herself into alertness.

Maybe she'd try to find Renza first, make sure he knew he may need to help with Threxin's care. The wound had been healing all right, but what if he got an infection, or needed help hydrating himself?

"Oh, hey, Mr. Big Red Alien, I was watching a sitcom with your brother from another mother and then he kissed me but really kissed me, and then I got on his last nerve and he left," Alina recited the explanation to herself.

Focus.

She threw on leggings and a singlet, donning her favorite worn-out old jacket over the top. It had been her mom's, and Alina thought she could still smell the musky rose of her perfume lingering on the collar. She pulled a pair of knee-high work boots from under the bed and cinched them tight around her calves, taking comfort in the constricting pressure.

Steeling herself, Alina tried to focus on work. Her real work: Kaia Halena. Her alien debacle was finally over—as over as it could be for anyone on a ship infested with them, that is—and she had real duties to worry about.