15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Iris

After a long shower and a short nap, Iris gave into her rage and went looking for Damascus. It's one thing to only want sex, but something else entirely to jump up and leave without even a polite goodbye. When she found him, she was going to make sure he understood how rude he'd been.

She'd also make sure he knew she wasn't hurt, only angry at being treated like that.

Today was Mia's "help the crew" day. Every four days, one of the crew got to shepherd Mia through their job. The individual crew members loved to have Mia's undivided attention, and Mia loved acting like she had an important task. Normally Iris would be there making sure Mia wasn't too much of a handful or to take her away if she had a meltdown. With Dek-lee as a dedicated Delorta Nanny, Iris wasn't needed.

Confident that Mia was cared for, Iris went hunting for Damascus, her footfall heavy as she stomped down corridors.

She tried his cabin first, but he didn't answer. He could've been hiding, but she doubted it. He didn't seem like the type to hide from her, only run away.

A trip to the galley, small comms room, bay, and storage rooms didn't reveal him. Finally she tracked him down in the exercise room.

Striding in with her head held high, shoulders back, and spine stiff, she picked a spot near the edge of the combat specific zone of the room. Putting her hands on her hips, she waited for him to notice her.

He was a blur of motion as he trained with both bots. They jabbed, clawed, and shot small knife-like projectiles at him as he jumped, whirled, and parried with a short sword she'd seen other Talins carry occasionally. She'd thought the weapon was ceremonial, but it looked like it could be used in practical combat.

As she watched, she noticed the details she'd missed at first. His backplates were fully open, not rattling or held tightly against his spine for protection. It was an indication that he was hot, like a human sweating. He must've been at this for a while if he was so overheated he had to keep his back plates in that position.

The next thing she saw were the small wounds on his shoulder, torso, and left bicep. They were nicks, so none of them were bleeding, but a few had dug deep gouges in his keratin plating.

How had those wounds happened? The bots' safety protocols should've kept them from doing any real damage. Had he turned them off?

Her answer came when Damascus moved a second too slowly and a knife projectile embedded in his thigh.

"Shut down!" she shouted at the bots. Both of them responded as Damascus tried to recover even while his leg refused to bear his weight.

"No!" he growled. "Resume program, D-23."

The bots lit back up to start pummeling Damascus again, but Iris was quick to stop it. "Shut down, return to dock, and no longer respond to commands from passenger Damascus."

Palathum had given her the power to shut down or restrict certain systems and the exercise bots were one of them. They ignored Damascus's shouting and redocked.

With the bots out of the way, she ran up to Damascus. He was balancing on one leg and leaning heavily on a support beam. Chest heaving, he glared at the bots and refused to meet her gaze, even when she was right in front of him.

"I wasn't done."

Ignoring his anger and her worry, she clenched her fists to keep from reaching for him. "Have you been here since you left my cabin? Are you trying to kill yourself?" she almost screamed.

"I wasn't done. Give me back control of the bots." Even as he spoke, he was swaying.

It finally occurred to her that these weren't the actions of a callous male but of someone dealing with inner demons.

This looked a lot like a trauma response.

Her anger didn't evaporate, she wasn't a saint, but she did calm down. If anyone understood trauma, it was a human who'd attended more funerals than baby showers in her life. Something had triggered him when they'd been together. It might not even have anything to do with her. It could've been a random memory that popped up because he'd been relaxed and happy.

That was the fucked up thing about trauma—it was always trying to turn the good moments to shit.

"I'll give you control of the bots after a visit to the infirmary," she declared, pointing at the knife embedded in his leg. He followed her finger and made a surprised rattle when he saw the weapon.

"Oh."

It was such a mild response she almost laughed. "Oh? That's all you have to say? You've got to be kidding me!"

Blinking and now leaning heavily on the support, he raised his gaze to meet hers. "I didn't make a joke, and I don't need to see the healer. Fetch me the Health Support Kit in the corner, and I'll see to this myself."

"Absolutely not!" she refused, crossing her arms over her chest. "If you won't go to the infirmary, then I'm bringing Healer Raltinum to you."

"I don't need her or you!" he roared. He tried to stand up straight but the moment he wasn't leaning against the support, his good leg folded. With a grunt of surprise, he fell hard on his ass.

All the adrenaline he'd used to keep moving must be fading because he bent over and gripped his thigh, gasping in pain. The fall must have moved the knife a little because blood was starting to spread from where the weapon pierced his pants. "Ancestors be damned!"

That was a curse she hadn't heard before. Crouching down next to him, she pursed her lips and waited for him to look at her.

"Don't you have anyone else you can meddle with?" he snarled.

"Not at the moment," she responded. "Do you think you can be more of a dickhead?"

Her insult made him sound a rattle of surprise, then a rumble of amusement. "Are you inferring that my head has as much thinking capacity as my mating shaft?"

She pointed to the knife. "Am I wrong?"

He grunted again, and it almost sounded like an agreement. "Call the healer, then leave."

"Nope," she said, then stood and went to the display near the door, ignoring his demands to leave him alone. It only took her a few seconds to request the healer come to the exercise room. She didn't mention it was for Damascus because she couldn't be sure Raltinum would respond. She couldn't blame the healer. He was a hard one to like.

She hadn't even crossed the room back to Damascus before the door opened and crew members flooded in. Her message must've been on broad instead of focus and other crew members heard it.

Damascus stopped roaring at her and slumped back to lay on the floor as more Talins entered. "Perfect," he muttered. "An audience."

***

Once Healer Raltinum realized Iris wasn't the one who was hurt, she was quick to check Damascus over, patch him up, and leave without saying a single word to him. It was the most unkind Iris had ever seen the healer act and another indication that no one on the crew had positive feelings for the male.

He could write a book, How to Make Enemies in Three Words or Less .

Raltinum and the rest of the crew tried to get her to leave Damascus, but she insisted they help her get him to his cabin. Once that was done, she left with all of them, then doubled back when she was alone.

"I thought you'd finally left," he grumbled as she walked through his unlocked cabin door. It slid silently closed behind her and she tapped the display to secure it. She wanted to have a conversation with this maddening male and didn't want to be disturbed.

"I did, and now I'm back."

His cabin was tiny, with only enough room for a bunk and fold down table next to it. There were no chairs or other amenities. This room had probably been a storage locker before Damascus came onboard.

Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, she raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm ready for you to explain everything to me and then apologize."

He rolled on his side and faced the wall. "I have nothing to explain. I apologize for wounding myself and inconveniencing you. You can leave now."

Her anger spiked and it took her several minutes to calm down before speaking again. "You think you're so tough, but you're not. Tough is going through pain and loss but still being open to love and friendship. Weakness is cutting yourself off and never letting anyone close again."

He jerked and made a rumble sound she'd never heard before. It sounded like a whale crying deep under the ocean. Guilt quickly replaced her anger. Had she been too harsh?

"I'm sorry I said that. It wasn't fair. If anyone understands emotional pain, it's me. I lost my parents when I was twenty. Then a few years later, I lost Mia's parents who I loved like family. I know it's devastating, but letting others in can help with the pain."

"Did you kill those people?" he asked, his voice quiet and distant. "Did you kill your parents and Mia's parents?"

Now it was her turn to jerk back a little. "No! The bog killed them."

"Then you can't know my pain because I'm responsible for the deaths in my life."

This was so much worse than she expected. She knew Damascus hadn't gone around murdering people, but he'd been a soldier. He'd even told her about blowing up that ship and the guilt over that. Was that the reason?

Stretching out on the bed behind him, she put her head behind his and laid her arm over him. He was so much bigger that she was mostly curled up against his shoulders and upper back, but it was the best cuddle she could give him.

"Talk to me, Damascus," she whispered. "Tell me what happened."

He shuddered and pressed himself a little harder into her embrace. Then he started talking.