Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

A lthough Wraith had already locked in their course, he kept his eyes on the control panel as he tried to come up with an answer to her question. He wasn't even sure he knew why. It had been an impulse, a no-doubt foolish impulse, and he wasn't a male given to such actions. He finally just shrugged.

Even though he wasn't looking at her, he was aware that her eyes were on his face. He braced himself for more questions, his jaw tightening, but her next question caught him off guard.

"So, what's your story?"

His hand paused mid-motion, hovering over a switch for a second before flicking it. He turned to her, studying her face. There was no condemnation there, just genuine curiosity.

"My story?" The words felt foreign on his tongue.

She nodded, her hazel eyes warm and inviting.

"Yeah, you know. Where you're from, how you ended up as a bounty hunter, how you ended up… here."

She gestured vaguely at the ship around them, and he turned back to the controls, buying time. No one had ever asked him that before. Other bounty hunters, his captives, even his employers - they all knew better than to pry. Yet here was this soft-spoken Earth female, casually inquiring about his past as if they were old friends catching up.

A past I don't remember .

He opened his mouth to shut her down, to tell her it was none of her business, but something stopped him. Maybe it was the lack of judgment in her voice, or the way she looked at him - not as a ruthless bounty hunter, but as a person.

"I don't remember my name," he found himself saying, his voice low and gruff. "Wraith is only what they call me."

She leaned forward, giving him a curious look. "They?"

His hands tightened on the controls. He'd already said more than he intended.

"Everyone," he replied curtly, hoping to end the conversation.

But she wasn't deterred.

"How long have you been doing this? Hunting people, I mean."

"A long time."

He waited for her to press further, to demand answers he wasn't prepared to give, but the questions never came.

Instead, a comfortable silence settled between them. He found himself acutely aware of her presence, the soft sound of her breathing, the rustle of fabric as she shifted in her seat. It was… different. Unsettling, yet not entirely unwelcome.

He stole a glance at her from the corner of his eye. She was gazing out at the stars, her face serene, seemingly content to simply be. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had sat with him like this, without fear or ulterior motives.

The ship's recycled air carried her scent to him - the sweetness mixed with the lingering traces of her fear. He breathed it in, allowing himself a moment to enjoy the unusual sense of peace he felt in her presence. It also stirred something deep within, a long-forgotten feeling he couldn't quite place.

He frowned out at the stars. What was he doing? He never allowed anyone in his space like this. Prisoners stayed in their cells. Clients kept their distance. Yet here he was, letting this Earth female sit beside him as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

He should tell her to leave, to go back to the holding cells with the other two. It was safer that way - for both of them. But the words died in his throat. Instead, he found himself relaxing, ever so slightly, into the unfamiliar comfort of companionship.

This wasn't like him. He didn't do companionship. He worked alone, kept to himself, focused on the job. So why was he acting so out of character now?

Before he could decide, Sooni's voice piped up from behind them.

"I'm hungry. Do you have any food?"

He tensed, unexpectedly irritated by the interruption. He turned to find the little girl smiling at him, her eyes bright and expectant. His first instinct was to send her away. But something else rose up, unbidden - an urge to provide, to care for these unexpected passengers.

He clenched his jaw, fighting against the unfamiliar impulse.

"There are supplies in the galley," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "You may help yourselves."

Willow stood, her warmth leaving the co-pilot's chair.

"Thank you," she said softly. "Come on, Sooni. Let's see what we can find."

As their footsteps faded away, he exhaled slowly. What was wrong with him? Although he provided adequate food and water, he never concerned himself with the comfort of his prisoners. They were cargo, nothing more. Yet here he was, offering these three the free run of his ship, his supplies.

But they're not prisoners.

He frowned at the controls, annoyed at the variation in his normal process - and his own weakness. He wasn't some soft-hearted caretaker. He needed to remember who he was and why he worked alone.

But despite that resolution, he found himself straining to catch the distant sounds of Willow and Sooni in the galley. The clatter of dishes, muffled voices, a soft laugh. It stirred something in him, another long-buried memory just out of reach.

He shook his head sharply, forcing his attention back to the navigation console. He had a job to do. These people were a complication, nothing more. He couldn't afford to let his guard down, to care.

Yet even as he told himself this, his fingers hovered over the environmental controls, raising the temperature to a more comfortable level for his human and Ssst passengers.

Fuck .

Determined to put things on a business footing, he placed a sound barrier across the entrance to the cockpit, then input a complex encryption sequence. The communication channel crackled to life, and King Conran's holographic image materialized before him. The king was surprisingly young, with gleaming golden skin and glowing golden eyes, but he was a skillful warrior who'd fought a successful battle to rid Farlain of the tyrannical former king.

"Wraith. Do you have news for me?"

"Not exactly. Unfortunately the slavers had already fled when I arrived, but I have recovered a human female." He had to force himself to keep his tone neutral, an unexpected tightness filling his chest.

"Another one? Damn. We have to shut this ring down, Wraith."

He raised an eyebrow.

"That is why you hired me."

His original assignment had been to recover and question the now-dead slaver, but Conran had extended his contract to tracking down the source of the slave ring.

"I know. But first I think you'd better bring the female to Farlain. My mate will insist."

Since Conran's mate was also human, Wraith had no doubt that was true, but he felt an odd hollowness in his stomach.

"Very well," he said. "I trust I'll be compensated for this additional… cargo?"

The words felt wrong as they left his mouth, but he was a professional after all. He'd told Willow truthfully that he didn't work for free.

"Very well," Conran replied, his eyes narrowing slightly. "But make sure she doesn't come to any harm."

"I never permit my cargo to be damaged," he said coldly and ended the transmission, leaning back in his seat.

He should feel pleased that he'd established a professional boundary, but somehow he couldn't muster up any enthusiasm. Willow would be safe enough on Farlain, with the other human female - so why didn't he feel happier about the solution?

He'd gotten what he wanted - confirmation of payment and orders to continue the hunt. So why did it feel like a hollow victory?

He rubbed his temples, trying to shake off the unease that clung to him. She is just another contract, he reminded himself. A job to be completed, nothing more. He'd delivered countless bounties before without a second thought. This shouldn't be any different.

But it was.

The memories of her warm smile, that small, soft body, the gentle way she'd spoken to him earlier, kept intruding on his thoughts. He did his best to push them aside, focusing instead on the nav charts before him. He plotted a course for Farlain, his fingers moving with practiced efficiency.

"Just a contract," he muttered to himself, the words tasting bitter on his tongue.

Why did the thought of handing Willow over to Conran make him so… uncomfortable? He knew Conran wouldn't hurt her - he was completely besotted with his own mate - but he still didn't like the idea. He braced his hands against the control panel as he took a few deep breaths, trying to center himself. He was acting out of character, and he knew it. The realization unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

He needed to focus. To remember who he was and what he did. Sentiment had no place in his life. It was a weakness he couldn't afford.

And yet…

The sound of laughter drifted from the galley again and something in his chest tightened at the sound. He growled in frustration, angry at himself for his weakness, the sound echoing through the cockpit.

"Is something wrong?"

He spun around to find Willow at the door, a steaming plate in her hands. Fuck. He'd neither heard or scented her approach. Such carelessness would get him killed if he wasn't careful.

He managed to shake his head, and she smiled and held out the plate. The scent of warm food wafted through the cockpit, reminding him how long it had been since he'd eaten. He hesitated, unsure how to respond to this unexpected gesture.

"You should eat something," she said, her voice soft but insistent. "You've been up here for hours."

He took the plate mechanically, still struggling to process the situation. No one had ever brought him food before. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had shown concern for his well-being.

She smiled, a gentle curve of her lips that made something in his chest tighten.

"There's plenty more if you're still hungry after that."

She turned to leave, and before he could stop himself, words tumbled from his mouth.

"Stay." He cleared his throat, shocked at his own request. "If you want, I mean. To keep me company."

The words hung in the air between them, and he felt a flash of panic. What was he doing? This wasn't like him at all. He opened his mouth to take it back, to send her away, but she was already settling into the co-pilot's chair.

"I'd like that," she said, smiling at him.

He sat down heavily, his mind reeling.

"Have you eaten?"

"Oh, yes. It was wonderful to have something other than porridge." She shook her head. "I shouldn't say that. Malacar and Sooni shared their food with me, even though they had very little. They're very kind."

And I am not .

He didn't voice the sentiment. Instead he picked up the utensil, more out of a need to do something with his hands than actual hunger. The first bite surprised him - it was good, better than the bland nutrient packs he usually subsisted on. Although he always stocked the ship with fresh food, he rarely bothered to cook.

They sat in silence for a few moments, the quiet broken only by the soft hum of the ship's engines. He found himself stealing glances at Willow, trying to understand why her presence affected him so strongly. She was very attractive, especially when she smiled, and her body was small but perfectly formed. And yet, he'd met other females who were just as attractive and never experienced the same sensation.

Her gaze caught his, and he felt an odd sensation in his stomach. He quickly turned away, unnerved by his reaction. This wasn't him. He was cool, dispassionate, and always in control. And yet here he was, flustered by a simple smile from a female.

The silence stretched on, and he cursed himself for his foolishness. Why had he asked her to stay? What had he hoped to accomplish?

To his relief, she spoke first, her voice low and hesitant.

"Where are we going?"

"To Farlain. The king is mated to a human female. You will be safe there."

"Is that how you knew about humans?"

"It's one reason."

He's actually encountered another human female previously, but he didn't think she'd approve of the circumstances. To his relief, she didn't press him.

"Is Farlain one of those sanctuary planets that Malacar told me about?"

"Not exactly," he admitted reluctantly. "But the king will protect you."

She smiled at him, her face warm and soft.

"Thank you."

I should tell her I'm being paid to take her there. But something stopped him, a strange reluctance to tell her the truth. As if he couldn't bear to see the look of disappointment on her face.

"I'd better go back and check on the others."

She rose to her feet, then stopped and put her hand on his arm.

"Thank you for everything you have done for us."

She leaned over and brushed a quick kiss against his cheek, smiled, and left.

He couldn't move. No one touched him. Ever. Now his arm and cheek seemed to burn, the memory of her skin against his like a permanent brand. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, his normally iron-clad composure in tatters.

He'd never felt like this before. Hot. Hungry. Confused. Need burning through him.

He didn't know whether to rage against his own weakness or surrender to it.

No. He would never be weak again.

With a savage snarl, he slammed the door shut on his emotions. He had a job to do. Nothing else mattered.