Chapter 15 Lyra
lyra
Leverage? Or Love-rage?
Leverage.
The word drops like a stone in my gut, but instead of the fury I should feel at Orion’s casual dismissal, I simply feel…sad.
No, that’s not quite right—there’s nothing simple about the maelstrom of emotions surging in my mind and body. Shame, humiliation, regret, and anger wage war for second place, while nausea roils and the scrape of betrayal burns over my skin.
For a moment, I’m paralyzed. Evie and Orion gape at me in horror—the remark clearly not meant for my ears.
I consider fleeing to my ship, but it’s still in the launch bay undergoing repairs.
I also consider smashing my tray into Orion’s handsome face, but even that fantasy feels hollow.
Thinking about making him bleed disturbs me, but maybe that’s because mere hours ago, all I could think about was making him come.
Since fighting and fleeing are well off the table, I’ve got one remaining F-option: food.
That was the whole reason why I’d found my way to the mess hall, anyway—Evie’s lecture hit a little too close to home and mid-sulk, I realized I hadn’t eaten anything in a day.
I’d hoped part of the hurt I felt was down to an empty stomach and low blood sugar, so venturing to the ship’s cafeteria had seemed like the most logical choice.
Not even carbs will be able to soothe me now—those jerks.
Evie’s anger I can understand. We have this sort of history and it’s not like I’ve been the best friend to her lately, but Orion’s…
well. I’m probably just getting what I asked for—what I deserve.
After all, I’m the one who told him it didn’t have to mean anything, and who knows if he was telling the truth about my vellia.
Maybe our close proximity over the last few weeks has led to some kind of cumulative effect on his libido, or something.
I don’t know enough about Xylothians to know how they respond to Velusians in general.
Apparently, I don’t know anything about Xylothians, since the fucker can talk to plants, I think bitterly.
Blinking slowly, I turn to the various food stations running down the middle of the mess hall and absent-mindedly start filling my tray.
I’m disgusted to realize I only have myself to blame for this—for my actions toward Evie and my distance from Orion.
Despite the sting, the sour-tasting loneliness of it all, it reminds me of what I’ve already believed all along.
It’s me on my own.
Exhaling shakily, I return to the task at hand.
On my plate, I heap piles of filament-thin black noodles covered in a bright purple sauce, three different kinds of bread, thick cuts of meat drizzled in savory blue gravy, steamed vegetables I don’t recognize, and creamy kreshaan puree—Evie’s favorite from Terrin-4.
The smell is incredible, but the nausea my emotions have summoned makes the meal as unappetizing as what I’m about to do next.
“Is this seat taken?” I ask, dropping onto the bench next to Orion and across from Evie. It took a moment’s calculation, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to meet Orion’s green gaze without having a complete emotional breakdown.
Evie raises a wary brow at me, then gestures for me to sit. Orion shifts uncomfortably.
“Sorry if I’m interrupting,” I say, the false cheerfulness brittle to even my ears. “I wanted to get something to eat before we have to take off. How much longer for repairs?”
“I gave them one cycle to get you in a good spot,” Evie says.
“Thanks,” I nod, picking up a spoon and pushing the yellow puree around my plate.
“Lyra, listen—what you overheard, it’s not…” Orion begins.
I hold my hand up to stop him.
“It’s fine,” I say, forcing myself to swipe some bread through the vibrant mush. “I know you’ve both got your reasons. And honestly? It doesn’t matter. We’re good. Totally good.”
Evie continues to stare at me, her expression unreadable.
“I’ve actually got some work to do before end-of-cycle, so I’m gonna head back to my office.
And I meant to tell you guys earlier, but I’m running a full salvage team right now, so you’ll have to bunk together.
I only have the one berth to spare. But I’m sure it won’t be a problem since you’ve been sharing the Aldrin-136 and you are, quote, totally good. ”
She steals a spoonful of kreshaan from my plate as she stands, and for a brief moment, I catch a glint of mischief in her eyes.
“Your quarters are one deck down, adjacent to the cargo hold. Three doors down on the left. I’ll have someone drop off some clean linens and as soon as I have an update about your ship, I’ll let you know,” Evie continues.
“One free berth on the entire Hephaestus, huh?” I mutter, throwing her a glare.
“Yeah, who would’ve thought?” she drawls, marching toward the exit.
As soon as she’s out of sight, Orion slides onto the bench across from me.
“Lyra, please let me apologize,” he begins.
“No,” I interrupt.
“No?”
“No, I mean, there’s nothing to apologize for.
I’m the one who told you it didn’t have to mean anything, and we’re in this stars-forsaken situation that neither of us wanted, or anticipated, and—I get it, okay?
You’re using me, I’m using you, we’re both using Evie…
everyone’s got to watch their six. And do you know what?
I don’t blame you one bit. You deserve a little leverage.
You’re a good man, er, Xylothian and you don’t deserve to have your whole cultural identity stolen from you every other week.
And I am an asshole for trying to steal it,” I insist, shoveling a forkful of noodles in my mouth so I’ll stop fucking talking.
“Do you always do this?” he asks, dropping his half-eaten sugar bun on the table.
“Well, you’re the one complaining about the food on my ship, so yeah, when I pull into any port with a nice kitchen, I do eat like—”
He cuts me off, glaring.
“I’m not talking about the food, Lyra,” he snaps. “You know what? Never mind. If you don’t want to be honest with me—or with yourself—that’s your problem.”
“What the fuck are you talking about, Orion?” I hiss.
“I just let you off the hook for talking shit about me to Evie. I gave you an out after sleeping with you so that you don’t have to get all weird on me and give me the whole ‘this was fun, but it’s over’ speech.
I’m taking you to my fucking buyers. What more do you want from me? ”
“Maybe I want more from you than that!”
I freeze. “Wh—what?”
My heart slams against my ribcage, feeling a foreign kind of hope I’ve never dared entertain.
“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I don’t want you to let me off the hook? That maybe—I don’t know—you should have some standards for how you let people treat you?”
“Excuse me, are you trying to pick a fight with me?” I ask, hurt eclipsing my anger.
“Yes! No—I just…I want you to be honest with me, Lyra,” he says, swallowing and deflating a little. “I guess I just want to know that I can get under your skin as easily as you get under mine.”
My emotions are clanging around in my head, adding to my growing confusion about where this conversation is going. I sink my teeth into Orion’s abandoned sugar bun and blink up at him. There’s anguish in his eyes, and it turns the pastry to sand in my mouth.
“I don’t understand,” I say quietly.
“I know,” he says on a sigh. “Things are complicated. But we need to talk, Lyra. Really talk—without assuming what the other person is going to say. I have things I need to tell you—not just about us. I want us to figure some of this out together, but you have to give me some credit. You owe me some honesty.”
The part of my hurt, insulted heart wants to rage at him and fling my remaining noodles at him, but the other part of me longs for an open, unguarded conversation with the man I’m reluctantly falling in love with.
Can I have an unguarded conversation if I still worry about him turning me over to the Feds?
For the first time since we set out on this fucked up adventure, that worry feels…
less, somehow. That thought shocks me enough to give him the benefit of the doubt this time.
Looking up, I realize we’ve caused a bit of a scene in the middle of the mess hall. Five Drellers and a Printharian I’ve never met are staring at us with undisguised interest.
Hunger temporarily sated, I nod at Orion.
“You’re right,” I say. “Let’s go somewhere we can talk privately.”
He offers me a small, relieved smile.
“Thank you.”
I shove a few of the sugar buns into the pockets of my jumpsuit and gesture to him to do the same. With a chuckle, he pilfers a few as well.
We leave the mess hall, much to the disappointment of our audience, and make our way down the long, sloping corridor to the cargo bay.
I’ve stayed on Evie’s ship before but she’s obviously done a lot to it in the intervening years—the living quarters have been fixed up to a level of comfort I’m not used to.
At the end of the hall is a large room, spartan with disuse but clean and organized. A large bed sits in the middle of the room, storage closets to the left, a small desk to the right and a small bathroom with a shower tucked into the back corner.
“Nice, Evie,” I say, whistling appreciatively. “This must be for when she has higher ups in the company come out to survey the site.”
I fling myself onto the thick, soft mattress and moan when I sink deep into the plush comforter and pillows.
“Very nice, Evie,” I sigh. “She always knows the right places to spend her credits.”
I peel myself up off the bed and turn to see Orion watching me with heat in his gaze. That’s all it takes for me to return to a state of drugged lust at the thought of that glorious body writhing beneath mine.
“You mentioned wanting to talk?” I say, clearing my throat. If we don’t have it out now, I’m going to become far too distracted to function.
He shakes his head to clear it—obviously feeling the same chaotic appetites.