| |
Imee unhooked her safety strap when she woke up. She didn’t expect forward thrust to have ended yet, but old habits die hard and her instructors at the Academy had drilled preparedness into her until it was reflex. Besides, she’d slept with a gravity strap for so long, it felt alien not having one.
A heavy weight pinned the sheets around her feet, though in the dim light of the room there was nothing there. A brief panic cut through her post-waking fog until she realized the origins, sat up, and rubbed along the wolf’s body. Black pits yawned in the distortion field of the wolf’s camouflage as Djehuti opened his eyes to watch her. After a moment, he twisted and licked at her hands carefully.
She smiled and ruffled the fur between his ears. At least that explained why she hadn’t gotten chilled during the night, despite the ship having moved from too hot to almost too cold. The wolf radiated a welcome body heat, as well as a psychological warmth that made her feel watched over and protected.
That made him a damn sight safer than her other options for bed warmers.
The kiss—though it was barely fair to call it that since she’d wanted nothing more at the time than to grind herself to release against him—had wormed under her skin, and she couldn’t shake free of the images. The memories.
Changing clothes hadn't helped. Washing up hadn't cooled her down. Instead, she couldn’t stop wondering how it would feel to have Grenville's long-fingered hands directing the rough washcloth over her skin, instead of her own.
She shook her head to banish the images and drive out the warm ache in her belly. Too easy by half to give in to that temptation. Hell, his fingertip on her ear had nearly undone her.
An icy nose pushed into her palm. She smiled at the affection in the gesture and rubbed small circles into the wolf’s cheek fur with her fingers. No, Djehuti was definitely the safer option. She kissed between his ears, losing herself in the smell; like forests and moss, which made no sense, since the wolves mostly lived on starships. By all rights, they should smell like astringent cleanser and deck polish.
“I figured you’d want to be in Grenville’s bunk.”
The wolf made a noise somewhere between a chirp and purr.
"Good point. I don't snore.” She scooted her feet back and planted them on the cold metal of the deck plates, sending a shiver from her feet to the base of her skull. “Well, you’re welcome to warm my bed anytime.”
She stood and dressed, still unused to the cut and fit of her civilian clothes. She didn’t take a lot of leave, and her uniform was as much her home as her ship was. That was why she’d remained in her flight suit for as long as she had. The idea of putting it back on reminded her of Grenville’s hungry eyes. The burning trail of his mouth...
No way she could put it on until after the mission was complete. Even then, she might be better to burn it and get a new one.
She slid open the door to her quarters and checked her omni. By her calculations, they should be reaching Kronus’s ring in the next four or five hours. The instruments indicated that the two decelerations she’d programmed in before going to bed had triggered without a hitch, though the change in gravity was imperceptible to her.
Djehuti padded after her as she walked to the ladder up. She put a hand on the rail and called out, “Ahoy the bridge!"
A moment later Grenville's face appeared at the hatch. “All clear." He leaned out of the way so she could climb up.
On the bridge, an epic view of Kronus dominated the viewscreens. Bands of pink, yellow, and brown cut across the gas giant’s surface, while the angle of their approach allowed the meager ring system to catch the distant red light of the central star and glittered like a mirage. Beyond the ring, she could see the bright reflected light pinpointing two of the planet’s colonized moons—Sagan and Diarra if the ship was where she expected it to be, but she wouldn’t commit without checking her instruments.
Which could be done later. For now, she wanted nothing more than to bask in the view.
“Magnificent, isn't it?" Grenville kept his voice soft, like talking in a temple. “I’ve been up here for an hour, staring.” He stood up and held his arm out in a dangerous invitation.
She’d never been one to shy from danger. Imee stepped into the circle of his arm, rested her cheek against the soft chambray of his civilian shirt, and let reflected light wash over them. "It's the whole reason I fly."
"I can understand why."
He couldn't, not really. But it was nice of him to say so. Her smile went bittersweet. “No, I mean I had to get away. Had to get some perspective.” She laughed harshly at her own naïveté. “Needed to realize my problems were one person’s. On one moon. In one system. Nothing helps with that like seeing the bigger picture.”
He squeezed her wrist lightly, his three-fingered grip warm and comforting. Her entire being focused on the point of contact between them, willing him to linger, but he pulled away a moment later. “I can understand running away from things too, you know.”
She snorted softly. “I caught my fiancé, who cheated on me while we were dating, having sex with another woman a week before our wedding. You really think you can beat that?”
Grenville leaned his cheek against the top of her hair. “If he cheated on you, he was a fucking idiot. Speaking plainly.”
Imee chuckled. “So says good-time Grenville.” He stiffened—not violently, but enough that she noticed it where she leaned against him. Regret seeped into her skin. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”
“Fair though.” The sorrow in his voice was unnatural to her. “The nickname isn’t exactly unearned. Good enough for a quick hookup, but not the sort you’d want to keep around long term.”
“Doesn’t make it fair of me to pillory you for your choices.”
His lips tightened, eyes closed before he let out a resigned sigh. “I lost my fingers when my brother died.”
The words came out quiet, even compared to the hushed tones he’d used before, and Imee wasn’t entirely sure she’d heard them at first. There were plenty of rumors about how the ranger had lost the digits, many of which he’d propagated, and a fair number of them obscene.
He held out his right hand, the shorn remnants of his pinky and ring fingers silhouetted against Kronus’s bright orb. “It was stupid, really. We were disobedient, had run off into the valley against our parents’ wishes. We knew better. The rockfall crushed my hand and his chest.”
“You were kids,” she said. “You couldn’t have kno—”
“My parents didn’t see it that way,” he replied flatly. “When they weren’t blaming me, they were blaming each other. And everyone got to use my fingers as the reminder. You know how some parents use the kids as a weapon to attack each other? Mine used me as the surrogate.
“When it finally got to be too much for them, they made their separation official. They demanded I choose who I’d come live with, each secretly wanting me to pick the other. Instead I sued for independence.
“So that’s why it’s better to keep things light. I saw how my parents were. I know who I am underneath. Genetics works. No one deserves to be put through that.”
Of course, that’s what he’d take from a history like that. Never be serious about anything. Or anyone. Then he could avoid getting hurt again. She rotated around his hip, turning until she could have both arms around him. Until she could be in the circle of his embrace. “No offense to your parents, but they sound like assholes.”
The words shocked a laugh from him, and he dropped his gaze. This close, she could see the flecks of orange and brown nested in his amber-colored eyes, like a fire opal. His voice stayed soft as he traced the backs of his fingers along her cheek. “I really want to—”
“Then shut up and do it.” The hell with caution. At the moment, she just wanted to comfort and be comforted. To lose herself in the pleasure of another person.
Tender, almost frustratingly tentative, his lips brushed over hers. She moaned and pressed tighter, fingers digging into the wiry muscles of his back. His mouth opened, and her tongue chased his, eager to claim and be claimed. When he broke the kiss to trail along the line of her jaw, the cords of her neck, his lips didn’t just burn, they scorched. Like a fire, they consumed and left nothing behind.
The proximity alarm sounded, and she shoved away in a panic to check the pilot’s station. A few quick taps on the console brought up the reason for the alarm and doused any flame that remained in her blood.
She managed to get out the words “Brace for imp—" before the debris struck the ship and sent her hurtling off the back wall and down the ladder.