7. Zeerah

Ifeel hot and shaky with relief.

Falkion's blazing silver eyes hold mine captive as the platform rises.

I shouldn't feel relief. I should feel even more terrified, but the pounding in my chest assures me that I'm all right. Falkion's face no longer represents danger to me. When did that change? I take a deep breath and let it out. He's here, so I'm all right.

The platform comes to a stop next to the walkway, and he finally tears his gaze from me and stares at the others. No one cares that he's nude or flaccid. His forearms bulge as the massive silver blades disappear inside, like an anaconda swallowing prey, then they settle back into an ordinary shape. Except for the black tattooed lines of his wrist sheaths, he looks like any other Arrisan.

As soon as the silver edge disappears, the others emit a collective exhale.

"What in the seven suns do you think you're doing?" Head Engineer Olasi demands of the crowd.

The chatty engineer points at Kollok. "He grabbed my cutter and started going crazy."

"Secure them better. You can't trust anybody with your tools."

"Ain't that the truth," she mutters, flicking locks on the other tools dangling there.

Falkion steps onto the walkway like a gray tiger.

The engineers back up.

"Here, Captain." One pushes through and hands Falkion a skinsuit.

He swings it around his neck, and it suctions to his body, then he faces Kollok. "You took an engineer's tools?"

Kollok swallows and gestures behind him at me. "She tried to steal a ship."

I only see Falkion's back, so I don't know what his expression is, but I'm guessing it's interest or confusion, because another engineer fills in the gap for him. "She said you approved her to practice piloting, so you also approved her to take it."

"It's not true." Kollok straightens as he searches the captain's face. "It can't be."

Falkion turns, calmer now, and looks over my head at the scar on the Harvester. Then, with the tip of his boot, he scuffs his own blade mark on the walkway.

"The engineers have enough repair work, Vice-captain. Don't make more for them."

Kollok stiffens.

"Then is it true?" the chatty engineer asks. "Juk thought you were teaching her to be an engineer. That's why you made him spend so much time going over repairs with her. Are you actually teaching her to be a pilot?"

He looks back at me. The terrible fire still gleams in his silver eyes, hinting at the man who once swore to throw my deboned body out an airlock. He rules on this warship. Here, he rules absolutely.

And with my life in his hands, he tilts his head. "I am."

Surprise ripples through the engineers.

"Captain, why?" Kollok steps forward, pain warring with confusion. "Why are you doing so much for this human?"

"Because she did that repair work on the bridge. At the critical moment, we had lasers—"

"Captain, please listen," Kollok protests. "She made one lucky repair over three kortans ago. Giving her so much of your attention, on top of your regular duties, is wrecking your health. It's too much."

"Nothing is too much."

My chest squeezes.

I guess he can't tell the truth either.

Although I did, in fact, restore the lasers and save everyone's butt during his out-of-his-mind period.

"It is too much, sir." Kollok draws himself up. "I've served under three captains. You can't survive with the amount of rest you're getting. Your health readings are all at dangerous—"

"Is she your Amante?" an engineer interrupts.

Falkion pauses.

"She can't be idiot," another says. "She's not ‘spicy.'"

"Yeah, she could be," the first says.

The noise level abruptly rises as all the engineers weigh in and argue.

"She's a human, and he's doing un-Arrisan things—"

"He's the captain. He can do whatever he wants."

"She can't be his mate. He didn't mark her with his bite."

"She doesn't make you itch under your skin. So intrusive thoughts worm into your brain."

Falkion turns to the head engineer and makes a gesture to disperse this crowd.

"All right, break it up." Olasi claps her hands. "No more speculating, no more storybooks. This is real life. She's just an ordinary lesser."

The captain clears his throat.

"Human," Olasi corrects herself. "You, fix the Harvester. You, the walkway. The rest of you lot are supposed to be on your rest shifts. And anyone who's not supposed to be interfering in our engineer business…" She glares meaningfully at Kollok. "Get out."

Kollok cradles his forearm. His troubled gaze shifts from the captain to me and morphs into bitter hatred. He spins on his heel and stalks after the dispersing engineers.

On the bridge, I never noticed him. All the officers glare at me equally.

I'll be paying a lot more attention to Kollok now.

The walkway clears. Even the couple assigned to tasks quickly finish—apparently the damage was so minor, it barely required any treatment—and leave.

Falkion faces me. "Are you ready for your flight?"

I choke. Is he giving me an out? Acting like everything's normal? Like nothing's changed?

But I take it.

I grab this "out" with both hands so I don't break out in sobs, collapse at his feet, hug his legs and cry about how sorry I am.

"Sure." I force a smile to my face, then turn and march into the Harvester like this was always part of my plan.

And then I stop.

Falkion stands at my shoulder. "Something wrong?"

"It's the most beautiful ship I've ever seen." My voice cracks on the word beautiful. But it really is.

He speaks quietly, with pride. "Just wait until you fly it."

I walk around the perimeter, and it's like stepping back in time except my Harvester was a burned-out shell that I repaired piece by piece. I never saw it in good condition.

This one is how it was meant to be.

It's a dream.

The cafeteria in the center is the same. That's where Arrisan troops would stay, living on top of each other in honeycomb dorms.

The small rooms along the outside, which we repurposed into cabins for the women, are packed full of supplies. Every ship an Arrisan builds is designed to go for long periods cut off from all natural resources, and Harvesters are no exception. You could almost restart an entire civilization in one of these. That's how much is stuffed in here.

The bridge is just as beautiful. There's no captain's chair welded to the floor. The walls are smooth and functional. I pull out a control console—yes, pull it from the wall into a full console shape like I'm molding the metal with my hands to fit my body—and slide in. The controls are comfortingly familiar, but I also get the delight of new controls, ones that I'd never gotten to work on the old Harvester but which now function perfectly.

Falkion slides into the navigator console.

As always, he balances an ankle on his knee, crosses his arms, and tips his head back.

I execute the familiar undocking procedures and am towed to the atmosphere veil. I travel through, soaring along the outside of the dreadnought.

Nearspace is crowded today.

Below us lies the old moon where the Vanadisans kept their secret research base, their hidden H-alien ship, and all my clients.

In front of us lies the new asteroid belt made of remnants from their destroyed fleet and the crescent-shaped debris shell of the dreadnought that didn't survive.

I go through my study list of safe traffic maneuvers.

That's something I never got any practice on. The space around Humana is big and empty. Waiting my turn between support ships and research vessels, I start a fly-by of the H-alien ship up close.

It's round and flat, like a red blood cell, and the sea urchin spines are mostly around the outer ring, except the ones buried in the hull of Falkion's ship.

Kind of interesting how—

Crackle.

Green warning lights flash across my screen.

One of the warships overhead has locked on me.

My stomach drops to my feet.

A bold Arrisan snarls from my viewscreen, "You there. What are you doing inside restricted space?"

"Huh?"

His lips curl in fury.

My brain scrambles up the proper address. "Oh, uh, I didn't realize—"

"Hold there. Prepare for boarding."

"But I—"

"No excuses, human. Learn the rules before you venture into our space."

Falkion sucks in a deep breath and leans forward. "What rules would those be, Petty Officer?"

The Arrisan blinks. "C-Captain Falkion?"

"I don't remember placing any restrictions around my own dreadnought."

"Vice-captain Kollok placed them just now, sir."

Kollok again.

Falkion leans back and closes his eyes again like he's mentally reviewing a rule book. "Did he?"

"Ah…but if you're on that ship, I, uh, am sure it's fine…" He abruptly ends the transmission.

The two smaller ships bearing down on us abruptly veer away, but the awe of the experience has worn off.

I turn and head back to the dreadnought bay. It was a short trip, but that's fine, right? Next time, I'll go to a more open area, practice evasive actions, go longer.

Next time… A pang runs through me. The thoughts I left behind while I was flying now crowd back in.

The dock looms closer. And with it, retribution.

I tense. Now or never. "Thank you."

Falkion takes a breath and clears his throat. "For?"

Not slashing me, not throwing me in the brig, not executing me.

"For stopping the laser cutter."

The ship docks and unseals with a hiss.

I rise.

Falkion rises alongside me and stops me. "I will stop anything, Zeerah, if you will only stay beside me so that I may do so."

His silver eyes are so intense. So sincere.

I scent his male essence, hear the pained fracture in his gruff voice. His nearness sends little shivers down my spine.

Delicious little shivers.

No.

"Stop saying things like that."

"Like what?"

"The drug is going to wear off, and you're going to feel really, really embarrassed."

"It's possible."

"See!"

"Because I have already reflected a great deal on my past behavior. I've always used force to get my way. My blades give me an edge. Arrisans respect that. Humans don't."

"Oh, we do. Trust me, we do."

"But force does not get me what I want."

My throat is dry. "What's that?"

"You, beside me, at all times, with no barriers." He rests his forearm over my head and presses me into the clear wall. He's a little shorter than me, but when he's intense like this, there's nowhere left to run. He nuzzles my cheek, my jaw. "Skin to skin."

"We can't." I breathe in his liquor, the musk and spice with a hint of electricity that makes him brash and bold and Arrisan. "We can't just sleep together."

"I very much want to sleep together."

"Humans have to kiss first. And other things. But at least kissing before they…uh…You know what? Never mind."

He pulls back. The fire in his silver eyes is unquenchable. "What is a kiss?"

"Touching mouths. But you—"

He presses his mouth to mine.

His kiss is liquid fire.

Zeerah's lips beneath mine are soft and warm and a little tart.

She draws me into a world of sensations I have never experienced before.

Ease, comfort, and something else.

Hunger for more.

Her lips part beneath mine.

I delve into her mysteries.

Her tongue teases mine, a ghost, and I chase after her, hunting her. Her softness is a steel coil, and it winds me tight. I have a deep desire to do something. Burst, thrust.

She gives a soft moan.

The vibration grabs hold of my spine and yanks my very soul. I need her. Deeper, inside me, more. I stroke her long cheeks, stroke my blunt fingers across her Arrisan-like short hair.

She is more complex than any rules I have ever memorized. Focusing on her takes all my attention. She can draw me back from the edge of oblivion, whether it's from the Vanadisan drugs or the false Harsi alarm.

She brings me back to myself.

Her skinsuit is thick, protective, but the shape of her within it is perfection. The flare of her hip fascinates me. Her wide buttocks draw me in.

Her thigh lifts and wraps around mine.

I make a sound low in my throat.

She pulls back. "Okay, okay. I'll sleep with you."

I have that falling sensation again. "You will?" My voice is rougher than I expected, like I've lost time and am only now surfacing.

She breathes heavily, rubs her damp brow, and tilts her head back against the wall. "So help me, I will."

Fire ignites in my veins. I grip her hand and pull her out of the ship, quickly, before she changes her mind.

She stumbles and snorts.

A petty officer stands on the dock. "Captain Falkion, Vice-captain Kollok—"

"Later." I cushion her for the drop to the main bay, then urge her faster into the ship proper. It takes real time to cross a dreadnought, and time is what I don't want her to have. I can already see her starting to doubt, to question. My room is much too far away. I take her back to hers.

Even so, her feet slow. "Um, Falkion…"

An engineer is patching the wall next to her door, which is shiny and new. He nods at us and treats me with the usual friendly derision. "Cap'n. You know we're busy right now. Try not to break the ship."

"Noted." I open Zeerah's new door.

She remains in the hall.

I drag her inside, close the door, and lock it.

Her breath hitches. "Um, what?"

"Sleep with me."

She exhales. "I don't know…"

There are rules in human relationships. Dating, now kisses.

I press my lips to hers.

She moans, melting against the new door. Her delicate hands clasp my face. The bursting sensation increases, exultation mixed with another sensation I don't know yet. Another feeling I've never experienced before.

I drive my tongue into the most secret recesses of her mouth.

She breaks free with another gasp. "Okay. Okay, just…let me catch my breath."

I step back and remove my skinsuit.

She starts to remove hers, then sees the state of her sleeping pod behind me, and her jaw drops. "Um…"

"I'll get you a replacement." I clasp her hand and draw her toward me. "Come, Zeerah."

She takes a shuddery breath. "This is crazy."

"Come now." I push aside the remnants of the lid I shredded with my blades once I realized she had left and was not coming back.

"You should be mad. I locked you in."

"You know I was never really trapped."

Her gaze lingers on the tattoos at my wrists that mark the sheaths. "Anybody else would've been."

"Is trapping each other a step of human courtship?"

"No, it's…" She scratches her nose. "Look, if we do this… You could be embarrassed about it someday. If you hate it, don't blame me."

"You use words to create a fence around yourself, Zeerah."

"Only because I don't have blades."

"Then you may borrow mine." I pull her, one slow step at a time, to the sleeping pod and rest my hip against the broken side. "I will cut down anyone who endangers you."

She touches my chin and runs a finger along my jaw. "Even if it's you?"

"It will never be me."

Her scent is enticing. The feeling that hooked me before clenches around my jack and focuses on her. Light reflects in her dark, infinite brown eyes. Her cool brown skin is a mysterious shadow, but soft, like her fingertips.

Her lashes lower, and she tilts her head and presses her lips to mine.

Shock runs down my body, pooling heat into my jack.

Its electricity dances across my nerve endings.

She is heat and darkness, water and promise.

The softness of her lips is like nothing I've ever known. I need to take it inside me, cage it, keep it safe.

She draws back, lashes lifting. Her pupils are even larger now, her lips plump and damp.

But again, her fingertips hesitate at her collar.

Doubt plagues her.

Eh, this is close enough. I will have all her skin against mine another time.

I pull her into the cushioned portion of the sleeping pod, draw her body against me until I feel her in every pore, her weight a comforting blanket, and finally, irrevocably, surrender to my exhaustion.

I don't know what's just happened.

Just now, Falkion kissed me senseless, dragged my still-clothed body into the crumpled bowl of my destroyed sleeping pod, hugged me like a body pillow, and passed out.

Like, what?

That's it?

He's just sleeping here?

I poke his cheek.

He snuggles me closer and sighs deeply. The underside of his sigh descends into a soft snore.

Need pulses in my core.

I can't believe a man who's never known what a kiss is could make me forget my own name, melt me into a gel of sweet hunger, and then just fall asleep.

One hand still weaves through my hair and presses my head to his head.

In profile, his nose is blunt and aggressive. I trace my fingertip across his parted lips, up across his stern brow, and down to his firm chin.

He gives a little sigh and settles deeper into sleep.

Kollok said his attention to me cut into his rest time.

Maybe he's not handling our lengthening separations as well as I thought.

I remember what it was like trying to pretend I could follow an Arrisan sleep schedule.

Nightmarish, and possible only because I could hide in the supply closet and sleep way more than I was supposed to.

Falkion can't hide in a supply closet.

Maybe I should give him more of myself.

But that's dangerous.

If I start taking down my walls, getting cozy in captivity, soon, there'll be no escape…

I lie in the embrace of an Arrisan who has described, in his own gleeful words, exactly how he would relish killing me.

When I left Humana, this was not how I imagined my journey ending.

My thoughts swirl as I dip in and out of consciousness. I'm not normally a person who naps, but I missed my stims pack at breakfast. Maybe I haven't been getting enough sleep lately, either.

Falkion goes stiff beneath me.

I come awake.

His eyes open, focus on me. "We're being summoned."

I rise with him, feeling logy and weak. "Where?"

He throws his suit around his neck, the fabric suctioning to his hard body. "The bridge."

"You're being summoned to the bridge?"

"No." He reaches out his hand and helps me clamber out of the broken metal pod. "We both are."