Chapter 8
I’m not sure who was avoiding who more, but I’d seen neither hide nor hair of Vaughn in the first few days of our voyage.
Funnier still, with how tidy he kept our now shared room, if I didn’t know he was staying there, I would’ve found no evidence of our cohabitation. The instigator in me wanted to leave a mess, just so I could see if he’d clean it up or berate me for leaving it disheveled.
Would his face pinch into that angry scowl, causing his muscles to clench in response, showcasing the veins hiding beneath the patchwork of ink covering his skin?
Would he shove me up against the wall like he had the first time we’d met, pressing his body against mine, demonstrating that I was no match compared to his physical prowess, asserting his dominance over me to make sure I got the message this time?
What would he do if I kissed him again? Would I feel his arousal through his jumpsuit like before? Would his lips melt into mine, immediately surrendering to the tension simmering just beneath the surface of his calm facade? Would he like it?
I shook my head.
Fantasizing about Vaughn would only lead to disappointment. He’d made it painfully clear by his absence how disinterested he was in having anything to do with me.
His loss.
The fact that he still refused to take my comm calls was also his loss, as he was running his beautiful ship into the ground, and seemingly cutting off his nose to spite his face, by not wanting to have a proper discussion with me about resource management.
I knew this was Starlane’s typical MO. They were the major freight carrier in the system, and either you worked directly for them in one of their shitbox machines and prayed life support systems stayed online, or you became their indentured servant through a ship mortgage and freelanced for them to pay off the debt.
The problem with the latter, as evidenced by their mandated schedules, was that they ran the freelance ships so hard, they broke down well before they should have, requiring expensive repairs, putting freelancers in even more debt.
But Starlane didn’t own the ships, so they weren’t responsible; they just continued to undercut all other transportation options to run them out of business. Who can compete with lower rates and faster routes?
Unfortunately, the system was a capitalist hellscape long before Starlane existed and would continue to be long after.
It was easy to see why Vaughn was so motivated to cash in the bounty on the Phoenix, so he could be one of few to pay off his ship and actually work for himself—if he could manage to scrounge up the business, that was.
And not only had I thrown a wrench in the works because of my mere existence, but also because he assumed I’d want an equal split on the bounty, which wouldn’t cover his ship debt.
I’d be pissed if I was him too. I was just smart enough to see that this could be an opportunity. But he hadn’t wanted to hear me out, so none of it mattered anyway.
Despite my isolation, I tried to observe the crew in between coding system optimizations to avoid the ship completely breaking down.
And Natalie, bless her heart, was an absolute wealth of knowledge and loved to share everything she knew about her friends on the Radiant.
Unfortunately, most of what she had shared so far was through the lens of astrological signs, which I could appreciate, but you know, I couldn’t exactly take those notes as gospel.
But today…today I wanted to learn more about Vaughn, and I had set the perfect trap.
Through our frequent comm chats, I’d noticed that Natalie had a specific routine, and part of that routine was her making herself a ridiculously sugary caffeinated beverage halfway through her shift, to get her through the remainder of it.
This required her to go to the mess hall, where I was waiting for her.
And right on cue, she walked in and immediately her face softened when she saw me with my head buried in my arms, resting on the table in front of me.
“Lark?” Her voice wavered. “What happened? Are you okay?”
Taking advantage of the goodwill of people like Natalie never got easier, but I just had to remind myself that this was part of the mission and that if she knew everything and what was at stake, she would certainly understand.
“Nothing.” I sniffled. “Just having an off day.”
“What did he do?” Her brows lowered with her voice.
I shook my head. “Nothing…that’s the problem.”
“I don’t understand.”
“We’re on opposite shifts, I haven’t seen him in three days. I’m worried he thinks getting an exception was a mistake.”
“No.” Natalie plopped down next to me, wrapping a warm arm around my waist and tugging me closer. “Don’t say that. I’ve seen how he looks at you. I promise he doesn’t regret it.”
“How does he look at me?” I peered over my shoulder at the young woman.
She took a beat to consider her words. “I mean…it’s obvious he’s attracted to you.”
Oh.
“Is it?”
“Trust me, I’ve never seen him look at anyone with such intensity before.”
“But intensity isn’t love.” I wanted to make sure we were on the same page because the intensity she‘d seen might have been hatred, not attraction.
“I told you, the captain is an Aries. He’s as fierce of a leader as they come, but they don’t like to be challenged, even though that’s what they need in a partner.
He just needs time to get used to you, but I promise if you can work through it, the other side will be brilliant.
Air and fire signs are a perfect match, sexually and intellectually—you balance each other out.
Where he’s more brazen, you’re more analytical, where you’re more clinical, he’s more intuitive,” Natalie offered.
I still wasn’t sure about the astrology of it all, but it was clear that Natalie was an excellent read on people, and she just used astrology to channel those observations.
“How can I get him to come around? I thought I knew him so well after talking to him for so long, but now that I’m here in person, everything is different and I just feel lost and…lonely.”
“You’re lucky I’m a Libra. We’re a great bridge between signs and excellent at conflict resolution.”
“You’ve known him for longer than I have and you’ve been in close quarters with him the whole time. What am I missing? How can I make him happy?” I tried.
“He doesn’t like to be questioned, but I think questioning things is your favorite thing to do.” She giggled; I groaned. “If he wants to be in control, let him.”
“Let him?”
She gave me a pointed look.
Oh, she meant sexually. I choked out a laugh, which had her giggling again.
“He wants to feel like he’s in charge, but just because he feels that way doesn’t have to mean it’s true.
You know the old adage: behind every powerful man is an even more powerful woman, or something like that.
” She waved her hand, as if to clear the air of any potential inaccuracies of the statement.
“If you give him what he wants temporarily, or at least pretend to, he’ll feel like he’s won and the tension will dissipate, allowing the two of you to forge a more authentic relationship. ”
Could it really be so simple?
Then again, was it possible for me to stand down?
I’d have to figure that out later.
“But you’re right that first you have to be able to spend time together to work through all of this.” She got up from her seat and made her way over to the kitchen to make her drink. “And that’s something I might be able to help you with.”
“Really?” The feigned earnestness in my voice hit its mark.
She turned around with a bright smile and nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Thank you, Natalie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”