Chapter 9 #3
He scooted forward a bit more on his chair, thighs bracketing hers, and lifted the second finger.
“Next, you bait them…. Push all their buttons if you can because pissed off players make mistakes, ego rules, and they make emotional calls. You want that if you can. If not, then make them think the attack is coming from somewhere else. You commit resources to a fake push, draw their defenders out of position to nab you. They get complacent when they think they’re winning…
when they think they’ve got you figured out. ”
Her thighs burned where his bracketed them, the solid press of hard muscle radiating heat straight through her too big flight suit like the damn thing had suddenly shrunk two sizes.
Oh my, he’s close. The thought looped in her head, loud enough she half expected Fred to chime in with some snide remark, but the AI stayed quiet for once.
She swallowed hard, her gaze dragging up the broad width of Raaze’s shoulders before she could stop herself.
They looked even bigger this close, corded with power that made her feel delicate by comparison.
His long hair slid forward as he leaned in, dark strands catching the low light of the cabin and brushing over those shoulders like he didn’t give a shit how distracting it was.
Her hands twitched in her lap, and she curled her fingers tight, ignoring the way her pulse kicked up. Focus, Rhenn. He’s just a man. A very large, very warm alien man who’s apparently decided personal space is for lesser species.
He lifted a third finger. “Then you hit the gap they didn’t know they’d left. The one they created when they shifted to counter the fake attack. By the time they realize what’s happening, you’re already through.”
She watched his hands as he talked… the way they carved shapes in the air, mapping out invisible formations. Those hands had been on her just hours ago. Sliding around her waist and over her hips… She shoved the thought aside.
“It sounds like chess,” she managed, her voice thankfully level.
He shook his head, hair dancing over his shoulders. “No. It’s faster than chess. You don’t have time to think, you just react. It all happens in seconds. If you hesitate, if you second-guess, the window closes, and you’re just another player getting tackled.”
“But you don’t hesitate.”
“No.” The smile faded, something harder taking its place. “I never hesitate.”
The silence settled again, but it was different now. Warmer.
“So… your turn,” he said.
She blinked. “My turn what?”
“Tell me something. Something that matters.”
She should deflect. Make a joke and keep him at arm’s length where he belonged.
Instead, she shrugged. “The first time I flew solo.”
He waited. Didn’t push. Just… waited.
“I was seventeen,” she said. “Fred was already in my head… had been since I was fourteen. My father didn’t want me flying at all.
Said it was too dangerous and that I should focus on the administrative side of the business.
But I’d been training in simulators for years, and I was good. Better than good.”
She could still feel it. The memory was as clear as if it had been yesterday.
“The ship was a training vessel. Nothing fancy. But when I sat in that pilot’s chair and the cockpit sealed and it was just me…
” She breathed out, already back there in that moment.
“Fred was in my ear, running through the checklist. My hands were shaking so bad I could barely grip the controls. And then I pushed the throttle forward, and the ship moved. It responded to me. Not to my father, not to my brother, not to anyone else. Just me.”
You were magnificent, Fred murmured, just between them. I remember.
“That was the first time,” she said out loud, “that I felt competent at anything. And it was something that was actually mine. Not the family firm’s. Not my brother’s. Mine. Just me and Fred and the whole of space.”
Raaze watched her with an expression she couldn’t quite read.
“Your brother,” he said. “The one who sabotaged your ship.”
Her stomach tightened. “What about him?”
“Tell me.”
She shouldn’t. This wasn’t the kind of thing she talked about. Except he was looking at her like he already knew the answer.
“Kian,” she said, and the name tasted sour. “He’s the golden boy and heir apparent. My father’s been grooming him to take over the firm since he was twelve. Doesn’t matter that he couldn’t organize his way out of a paper bag or fly his way out of one either. He’s the son, so he gets the crown.”
“And you?”
She shrugged. “I’m the daughter. I’m supposed to be decorative. Maybe marry well, bring in some useful connections.” Her laugh was bitter. “The Parac’Norr run was supposed to be my chance to prove I could handle the dangerous work. The runs Kian wouldn’t touch because they might mess up his hair.”
His expression changed. The lazy interest sharpened into something harder and darker.
“He cut your hydraulic line,” Raaze said bluntly.
“Yeah, and removed a power relay. Fred found the evidence. It wasn’t wear and tear. It was surgical.”
“So you’d fail.”
“So I’d fail. Or die. I don’t think he much cared which.”
His jaw tightened, and a muscle in his cheek jumped.
“I know men like your brother,” he said, his voice rough.
“I’ve played against them. They can’t beat you clean, so they cheat.
They foul when the refs aren’t looking. They spread rumors in the press.
They do whatever it takes to drag you down to their level because they know, they know, they can’t reach yours. ”
His brows pulled together, his jaw going hard. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it.
“How long until we reach the station?”
She let him change the subject.
“Five hours,” she said. “Give or take.”
“Right.”
The cockpit was small. She’d always known that… it was a freighter, not a luxury yacht, and the pilot’s station was designed for function, not comfort. But she hadn’t noticed how small until now. Until she realized they’d been leaning toward each other without meaning to.
He was right there.
She could feel the heat coming off his skin. He smelled clean. Warm. Male. Nothing like the recycled air and engine grease she was used to, and she was already leaning toward him before her brain caught up.
He reached up.
Slow. Deliberate. His fingers brushed her temple as he pushed a strand of red hair off her face, tucking it behind her ear. The touch was gentle, almost reverent.
She didn’t move.
Neither did he.
They stayed there, a breath apart, and the kiss in the corridor had been nothing compared to this. That had been heat and desperation and two people crashing into each other. This was something else entirely—
“Fuel consumption update,” Fred announced through the cockpit speakers. “Current burn rate is within acceptable parameters. Estimated reserves upon arrival: forty-two percent. I thought you should know.”
The moment shattered like glass, and Raaze pulled back.
You did that on purpose, she thought at Fred.
I have no idea what you mean, Fred replied, his tone suspiciously innocent. I was simply providing relevant operational data.
You absolute bastard.
You’re welcome.
Raaze was already standing, moving toward the cockpit door. He paused in the threshold, one hand on the frame.
“Get some sleep,” he said. “Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”
Then he was gone, the door hissing shut behind him.
She sat in the pilot’s chair, staring at the star field again, her skin still tingling where he’d touched her.
“I hate you,” she said out loud, glaring at Fred’s cartridge.
“No, you don’t,” Fred replied. “You hate that I’m stopping you from making a bad mistake.”
She ignored him. She didn’t have an answer for that.