Chapter 22
“Veda,will you please take a tray to Dez when you’re done?” Cyra asked while eating her own first meal of the cycle. It was just the two of them in the galley, Blaize and Rhysa had already eaten and left.
“No.”
“What?” Veda never told her no.
“No, Captain. I will not take a tray to Dez. I’m not going to be in the middle of this.”
“Veda?” She chastised her friend with the single word, still in shock at her defiance.
Veda left the galley without another word. Cyra would have to take his tray if she didn’t want him to starve since he’d refused to come to the galley to eat. It wouldn’t be right to ask Blaize or Rhysa to do it. It sort of fell under a medical directors purview as eating was required for health. At least that’s what she told herself as she choked down the god awful mess Blaize had made. The Treasure needed more crew.
“I brought you a tray.” Cyra set it down on the narrow shelf that dropped from the wall of the small room. He really should have a chair.
“You need not have bothered. I’d just about rather starve than eat the mess you have made of the fine foods my family gave you.”
“Look. I didn’t even cook this morning. I can’t help it if I don’t have a chef. An engineer and a navigator seemed a little more important, and I don’t even have the funds to pay them. They’re really my partners, not my employees.”
“You should let me cook?—”
“I have, but we all agreed to take turns.”
“All the meals.”
“I can’t take advantage of you. You’re not an employee. You’re—” She bit back the word cargo.
“It would be my pleasure to have a way to care for my mate, even if she doesn’t want me.”
The last part he said so low as to be a whisper, but it still stung. “It’s not that I do or don’t want you. I just think you’re wrong.”
“I’m not wrong.” He closed his eyes briefly and took a slow breath. “Will you let me cook for you?”
“Just eat this, I’m sure it’s not as bad as it looks.”
“I’m sure it’s worse. Have you tried feeding it to the thuringies? Did they reject it as well?”
Cyra sputtered at a loss for words.
He stood up from his bunk and crossed his arms, facing off with her. “I will not be eating another substandard meal. There is no rational reason for you not to let me cook.”
Dez’s arms bulged. His smooth bald head was covered in sexy black stripes since they’d rearranged. His gray skin was no longer odd to her. In fact, he was gorgeous. Damn, she needed to get her mind out of the gutter. She was the captain, he was her cargo. Her cargo that had acquired food, fuel, and another contract. Her cargo who was insisting he was her mate. All he wanted was to cook. “Fine.”
“Fine, I can cook?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you, my queen.”
Cyra rolled her eyes. “I’m your captain, not your queen.”
“You are both.”
Cyra huffed and left. There was no arguing with him, especially since he made her want to melt with a look, with his primal scent, with the sound of his voice. She was gone for him. Not good.
“I’ll have the mid-cycle meal ready for you and your crew, my queen.” She heard him call out behind her.
Cyra busied herself with correspondence from the bank, reviewing possible flight plans to Kolben with Rhysa, and commiserating with Blaize on the antiquated state of the systems. Discouraged by the discussions, she headed to the water chamber to take a break. In the corridor, she froze. The scent of something delicious hit her and her stomach grumbled. She checked her comm. Midmeal. Cyra turned for the galley where she found Dez and her partners cozied up around the table, moaning.
“This is better than the food at the palace,” Rhysa declared.
“I’m going to gain back the weight I lost,” sighed Blaize.
“It’s better for all of us,” Veda said. “Good nutrition is critical to good health.”
Damn it. Cyra was going to have to let him keep cooking because it was the best meal she’d had that she could remember. He’d made the noodles taste decent, but since he had ingredients to work with, there was no denying his skills.
“How is yours, my…captain?” Dez asked her quietly after he sat back down with a refilled plate, nudging aside Veda to sit next to Cyra.
“It’s fine, thank you.”
“Fine,” Dez repeated the word in the same tone she’d used. He clenched his jaw briefly. “Fine is a very good word for many things, and beings. I will accept fine,” he concluded, and lifted a full fork to his lips.
Cyra’s attempt to keep him at arm”s length emotionally wasn’t working. She couldn’t even slight him successfully. The beast would not take offense. She would have to find another way to keep her distance because the urge to wrap herself around all of his warm muscles and express her thanks for the amazing food with kisses, lots of kisses, all over his body, a particular part of his body, was nearly irresistible. Refusing to so much as glance at him, she finished her food as quickly as possible and left the galley to soak in her water chamber—away from him.
Despite her best efforts over the next few cycles, she learned avoiding him was next to impossible.
Cyra peeped out into the corridor and found it empty. She made a mad dash for the bridge only to slide to a halting stop.
“There you are, my…captain.” Dez held a small tablet Veda had loaned him to track inventory and plan meals. She dreaded the sight of that device. He grinned at her.
She scowled and slipped past him to collapse in the captain’s chair. All that running for nothing.
“What are you making us for midmeal, Dez?” Rhysa asked from her position at the navigator’s deck. Did she have to sound so seductive? And who cared? Whatever he made would taste good, but he insisted on reviewing every meal plan and demanding Cyra’s approval.
“I was just about to discuss that with our captain.”
“You two need some alone time? I could make myself scarce.” Rhysa stood up.
“That’s not necessary.” Cyra closed her eyes and rubbed her temple. “What do you need, Dez?” Better to get it over with so she could clear her head and focus on work.
Dez approached her, coming so close she could smell a hint of his musk, the tiny bits of moisture that carried his wild scent. His nearness warmed her. She itched to run back to the salt tank to keep from trailing her fingers along the planes of his muscles, followed by her tongue. He spoke, rattling off details about the food, the recipes, the menu, but all she registered was his low tones deep in her belly.
“Is that acceptable, my queen?”
She shook off the mesmerizing stupor he created. “It’s fine.”
His smile was too wide. Did he know what he was doing to her? She scowled at him.
“Fine. I’ll take fine.” His fine backside as he left held her captive. Damn that male for being so sultry, so smug, so satisfying. In the galley.
Not anywhere else.
She shook her head. She couldn’t entertain even a hint of what her body desired from him, even if her thighs did ache. And she still had one more meal planning session with him to endure this cycle. And three more the next. “When do we reach Cassan?”
Rhysa laughed.
Finally, after several more cycles of cat and mouse, which Dez, the apex predator, won every time, Cassan loomed ahead in the digital display. It was so huge it appeared closer than it actually was. Despite the additional cycles it would take to reach it, Cyra was grateful to nearly be there. It meant more space away from Dez than the ship allowed. His meal planning antics had progressed to include accidental touches.
She ached to grab him with both hands and do very non-captain like things to him, like stroke his entire body and find out what he liked. But she couldn’t. He was cargo. She had a contract to deliver him. He was cargo. He would be living on Kolben while she would traveling all over the galaxies. He was cargo. And she was so over the moon for him. She couldn’t get off the ship soon enough.
“Rhysa, what’s our ETA?”
“The same as the previous time you asked me minus the few seconds since then.”
“Can’t we get there faster?” The whine in her voice hurt her own ears.
“Not if we don’t want to blast right through the dock. They might be unhappy with us if we rip off part of the station because we come in too hot.”
Dammit. Her skin itched with unmet need. “Call me when we’re going to land. I’m going to the water chamber.”
“You’re going to prune you’re in there so much.”
“It relieves stress.”
“I know of some other things that relieve stress…”
“Not interested.” Cyra paused in the doorway to the bridge. “Oh, and when we get to the station, we need to send out inquiries on a Communications Officer. We did fine this trip, but we need to fill that slot. Now that we have a regular contract, or soon will, I think we should add to staff.”
“What are we doing about galley duties?”
“Nothing.” Cyra left the deck without further explanation.
Cyra found Veda waiting for her in her quarters. Something was up, but Cyra was going to delay asking as long as possible. She walked by Veda and opened her wardrobe. There was nothing in there she wanted to put on. If Veda wasn’t here, she would have had some personal alone time which wouldn’t have necessitated clothes.
“What?” She gave in and asked Veda.
“I was wondering when you were going to acknowledge me.”
Cyra didn’t say anything, she just looked at her.
“I think you and Dez should go to dinner while were on Cassan.”
“What? Why?”
“Because he’s been cooking for us. Because he’s your mate. Because you can’t keep running form this situation. You need to resolve it.”
“How is having dinner together going to resolve the fact that he’s contracted for delivery to Kolben, even if I am his mate.”
“You’re being stubborn. There’s always another solution, another plan.”
“This is the plan B. I was never supposed to be captain this soon. I’m making that work. How many alternate plans do you think I can support. Eventually, I just have to go forward. Maybe it isn’t the best decision. Maybe I’ll regret it later, but this is what I have. This is what Auvi left me. He knew me better than anyone.”
“Better than me? Really?”
“No. Not better than you. You’ve been my best friend. You are my best friend. I just…”
“I get it. He was your savior. He left you this ship and you think it’s your only lifeline. Maybe that’s true. But maybe Dez can be a part of that. Maybe he’s your next great thing.”
“He can’t be.”
“You don’t know that. You at least owe him a thank you for the transport contract, for feeding us and for being honorable. He kept his word to you.”
“If I promise to take him to dinner, will you let me be?”
“For now.”
Veda left and Cyra was no longer in the mood to prove that she knew what Rhysa was suggesting for stress relief. Rhysa probably didn’t mean for her to relieve her stress alone. But alone was the way she was going to be for a very long time. Dez was beautiful. He could cook, and probably a lot of other things. But the bottom line was the ship was her only safety net. The only way she would keep the ship is to be the best most reliable transporter out there. It was tough enough being a female in a male dominated industry. She couldn’t afford to fail.