Chapter 10 #2
Something cracked wide open in her chest, and she bit her lip, eyes on his as he pushed inside her again.
This was different. This time he was looking at her, his eyes locked on her face, and she could see everything in them.
The hunger, the want, and underneath them something she was too afraid to name.
He began to move, slow and deep, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. She lifted her lips to his and kissed him while he moved inside her.
Her tongue slid against his as she brought a hand up to cup his jaw.
His thrusts grew harder, more urgent, but when she pulled back, the look in his eyes hadn’t changed.
She came without warning, a cry torn from her as the world went white. He followed a heartbeat later, releasing a guttural roar against the side of her throat. His cock jerked and pulsed within her, throbbing as he came hard and fast within her.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. He stayed inside her, his weight pressing her into the mattress, his breath rough against her throat. She held on, arms wrapped around his back, and let herself pretend that this was real and he was hers.
Then he pulled out and rolled off her. The cold air hit her skin where his body had been, and she shivered, lying there staring at the ceiling as she listened to him get up. There was the rustle of leather and the soft click of fastenings.
She turned her head to find him dressed and standing by the door.
“I have work,” he said, his voice low and… absent, professional. Like he wasn’t even in the room with her anymore. “The case files from the conference. I need to review them before morning.”
Of course. The case files.
“Sure.” Her voice came out bright. She’d spent twenty years learning how to sound bright when she was falling apart. “Go do your doctor thing.”
He turned, and for a heartbeat his eyes met hers. There was an expression in them she couldn’t work out, but before she could, he frowned, and it was gone. Nodding, he turned and stepped through the door.
The sound of the door sliding shut was the loudest sound she’d ever heard.
She lay there and stared at the ceiling, the hollowness in her chest so big she thought she might disappear into it.
He didn’t stay. Of course he didn’t stay.
She didn’t cry. She was too tired for that. So she just lay there, empty, as the silence pressed down on her.
Then she heard a little chirp.
She turned her head. The little robot was there, at the edge of the bed, head tilted in that same dog-like motion that made her throat go tight.
She smiled, and it scrambled up onto the covers, legs catching in the fabric, and pressed itself against her, warm metal body tucking into the curve of her waist. It hummed, the pleased, vibrating hum it made when she scratched behind its head.
Was… was it cuddling her?
Her eyes burned with tears. The little robot that had lost its pilot, and hidden in the shadows of a cargo bay full of monsters, that had chased a thread across her floor like it was the best thing in the world — it was curling up against her like she was the only thing it needed.
She closed her eyes.
Reaching out, she put her hand on the robot’s back and closed her eyes. She wasn’t alone. At least one thing on this whole ship wanted her for her.
It would have to be enough.
The next morning, the conference hall smelled like recycled air and other people’s breakfast.
Delilah sat in the third row of tiered seating, her back aching from the hard-backed chair, while the morning’s third presentation droned past in a language her translator matrix rendered flat and monotone.
Her gaze slid to the back of Kellat’s head three rows down, his silver braids catching the overhead light.
He hadn’t come back to the cabin last night.
She’d waited, curled around the little robot, listening for footsteps in the corridor until her eyes burned. At some point she’d finally slept. This morning he’d knocked on her door as if nothing had happened.
Because nothing had happened, that was the point. He’d fucked her and left, and she’d lain there like an idiot waiting for him to come back.
Stop it. Stop looking at him.
Dragging her gaze away, she fixed it on the presenter, a Latharian male with a diplomat’s sash and a voice that could put an insomniac to sleep.
She squinted. The light in the hall was too bright, the air too cool, and the alien coffee she’d grabbed from the refreshment table had been empty for over an hour.
All she could think about was Kellat’s hands on her body and the fact he hadn’t come back last night. The fact that even now he was chatting away with Lady Amaelii… She gritted her teeth and looked away. Again.
The morning session broke for the mid-morning break, and she headed right for the refreshment table.
Only to find Lady Amaelii already there, surrounded by her harem and a couple of the conference staff, the rust-colored fabric of her gown shifting bronze and gold as she moved.
She was mid-gesture, her hand turning elegantly in the air as she explained something to the male beside her.
Everything in Delilah froze. She doubted Amaelii had ever once doubted her place in the world like she always did.
The room narrowed to just her and the alien woman, and she crossed the distance between them. Her hands shook as she stopped in front of the warlady.
The vorrtan woman turned, and her turquoise and amber eyes moved over Delilah from head to toe, unhurriedly.
“Delilah Sawyer,” her voice was low and musical. “The healer’s guest.”
“That’s right.” Her voice came out steady, her heart slamming against the inside of her ribs. “And I need you to back off.”
The warlady’s eyebrows arched up. “Back off?”
“Yeah, from Kellat.” The words tumbled out, falling over each other. “I know what you’re doing. The way you touch him, the way you look at him. I see it. And I’m telling you to stop.”
There was a moment of silence, the faces of the men around them somewhere before uncomfortable and terrified. She got the feeling that no one ever spoke to Amaelii this way, and honestly? She didn’t care.
Then the alien woman smiled, and that was even worse. It was the fond smile of someone who had been challenged by a child.
“You think I want your healer.” She tilted her head, the scar on her face catching the light. “Is that what this is?”
“I know what I saw.” Delilah managed, lifting her chin. She didn’t even come up to the middle of Amaelii’s torso.
“You saw diplomacy.” The warlady’s tone was measured, like a teacher explaining a student’s mistake back to them. “We are both healers. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“You had your hand on his arm.”
“I touched his arm.” The smile didn’t waver. “Among my people, that is a gesture of respect. Perhaps humans do things differently.”
Delilah’s face went hot. The warlady wasn’t even angry. She was amused, and gracious, reasonable in a way that made her want to scream.
“I understand this must be difficult for you,” the warlady continued. “You’re far from home and interacting in a culture you don’t understand. It’s natural to feel overset and emotional.”
“I am not overset!”
The warlady’s expression shifted slightly, something a little too close to pity for Delilah’s liking flickering behind her eyes.
“Perhaps,” she said, “I am not the person you need to be talking to.”
She turned back to her companions, indicating that their conversation was over, which left Delilah standing there, her face burning and unable to say anything without proving the warlady’s point for her.
A little girl throwing a tantrum at the grown-ups’ table.
“Delilah.”
Kellat’s voice was low and controlled, and his hand closed around her elbow before she’d even realized he was near. She turned, looking up at him. His expression was calm, the professional mask she hated locked down tight.
“What the draanth are you doing?” His voice was barely above a murmur. “Amaelii is a vorrtan warlady. An ally of the empire.”