200. Strong Will
200
Strong Will
M aya
How many times in one day can my world tilt off its axis? Teleporting to Antarctica, The Game, A’Dar, machta , having an alien claim me as his mate, drinking freaking blood for God’s sake? Oh, and let’s not forget taller, golden eyes and freaking fangs. But realizing that even if I survive to the end of The Game, I’ll never be able to return to my life feels like a physical blow.
I’m not even ashamed when I nuzzle my face against A’Dar’s chest, suck in a deep breath of his pheromones, and snake my tongue along his skin—which tastes better than it has a right to.
A’Dar has the computer pull up schematics of the ship, and we discuss all options for getting from Deck Ten to Deck Five, where the bridge is.
Once we’re acclimated to the layout, everyone’s voice is equal as we brainstorm ideas about how to proceed. The closer we get to the bridge, the more opponents are going to be lying in wait.
A’Dar is a strong leader, but his ego never gets in the way. He accepts every idea anyone shares with him as we discuss pros and cons.
Mel’Kan is the ship’s chief mechanic. His job will be to go to the mech room and investigate. My head spins when I wonder how much toll almost two thousand years of inactivity might do to the engine. Mel doesn’t seem to worry about that, though. He’s more concerned about the effects of the pulse the pirates unleashed.
“If it can be fixed, I will fix it,” he says doggedly, then hugs Anna tightly against him with obvious affection.
Ran’Kin is chief comms officer. He’s tasked with going to the comms room near the bridge and hailing Xenon. As the males discuss this, it’s obvious how worried they are. The muscles in their browridges tighten and their lips turn down as they talk.
No one mentions it directly, but their species was less than one generation from extinction. Unless the other nine arc vessels came home loaded with females, there won’t be a civilization to return to.
“Ran and Emily will go to the comm room. Mel and Anna will be in engineering,” A’Dar says. “Engineering will be safest. That is where Maya will be. I will roam the vessel, killing everything in my path. Making things safer so we can take off as soon as possible.” The stare he gives me is nothing less than a challenge.
“I’ll do no such thing,” I protest, taking pains to control my tone so I don’t sound hysterical.
“You’re not a warrior. Our guns don’t work. You will go where it’s safer,” A’Dar says matter-of-factly. He’s captain. He expects no pushback.
His golden eyes, usually warm puddles of affection, are dangerous as molten gold. I barely know him, but it’s clear he’ll brook no protest.
So I don’t argue. I simply move to the far corner of the room and cross my hands over my chest. Which one of us will start to tremble first, I wonder. Even if it’s me, I swear to myself I won’t approach him first. He’ll have to see the error of his ways when we can’t go more than five minutes without touching.
As we continue to discuss logistics, I keep giving my two cents. If I weren’t so uncomfortable from not being able to touch him, it would be kind of funny to watch him. The first thing I notice is his increased swallow rate, then a thin sheen of perspiration beads above his upper lip, then his fists open and close as he shifts his weight from foot to foot.
Of course, I’m about to lose it over here on the other side of the bed, but this is a battle of wills I don’t intend to lose.
In an effort to dilute his need, he’s pointed his back to me and is focusing on the others. I wonder if he’s even aware he’s edging closer, an inch at a time. It’s only when the back of his calves hit the mattress that he realizes what’s happening. His head snaps to me so fast the beads on his dreads clink together.
Although I’m trembling all over, I give him a superior smile.
“Still think we can just go our separate ways and be city blocks away from each other while you vanquish our enemies?” I ask smugly.
He practically dives over the bed to reach me, pulls me into his tight embrace, then licks my cheek as if his life depends on it. It feels that way to me, too.
“My mate has a strong will,” he says proudly, his golden gaze caressing me. “That’s a wonderful thing.”