Chapter 4
Ysathea
Hunt more gladiators? That seemed like a terrible idea to me; last time, Aramon and Solear had nearly blown out our engines trying to keep up with the Vagabond.
The idea of actually working together with the one ship in the Zeta Quadrant that was capable of outflying us was very tantalizing, however.
I wasn’t sure who their engineer was, but I definitely wanted to pick their brain.
I was lost in thought as I walked back from the ready room to my engine room.
What kind of engine did that ship have that made it go so fast?
I needed to get my hands on that. Then I cursed because the Varakartoom was in no shape to be shown off to anyone, least of all an engineer of that skill.
It was embarrassing. Against Strewn, I felt all kinds of rivalry, because they were good and they were damn cocky about it.
The Vagabond, though, that engineer had earned their reputation.
As I turned to step into the elevator that would take me down two decks, I realized I’d regained my shadow.
He was back to stalking me now that his obligation to the captain was over.
Thatcher caught the elevator door with his previously injured hand just before it could close.
Our eyes met, his a deep, dark brown, surrounded by thick, long black lashes.
He hadn’t marked his face with tattoos the way he’d marked his hands, but he still looked exotic.
Since he’d come aboard, he’d let his hair grow, and it hung in long, silky waves of darkness around his shoulders.
Clad in the custom-made armor I had created for the Vakaratoom’s crew, he looked menacing and huge.
Dangerous. He made my belly twist with desire, and when his mouth tilted into a half-smile, I was certain it was because he knew.
I shuffled away from him, unable to even find a voice to tell him to leave me alone, to take the next lift down.
My back collided with the wall, my hands finding the railing installed there.
They trembled, palms clammy. His smile twitched as if he liked that I was uneasy and cornered, like I was prey.
Did he always loom like that, take up so much space that this elevator seemed tiny?
It was tiny. Space on a spaceship was always optimized, and these units were fast rather than big; you never had to wait long.
Behind him, the door swished open, but he didn’t move to let me out.
His arms were loose at his sides, his eyes locked on my face, and that mouth curled in a sinful half-smirk.
He wouldn’t talk, I knew that, but I found myself suddenly prodding at him anyway.
“Come on, Thatch, enough of this. You proved your point about the blackouts. I’ll take Ivo or Grunn with me when I go hunting for anomalies again. Now go away.”
I didn’t think he’d respond; he never did.
When I made myself step toward him, I fully expected him to slide aside and let me through.
He always had before. He might intimidate me on some level, but I knew he’d never harm me.
Now, I wasn’t so sure. This time, he didn’t move.
Not a muscle, and my step had only brought me perilously close to him.
I stared, my breath locking in my chest, my body screaming at me to back up again.
The door swished shut behind him, and now it was just me and him in far too small a space.
“Ivo and Grunn can’t protect you the way I do,” he said, no, snarled.
I hadn’t caught on in time, but now I saw it, my words had pissed him off.
For the first time, I’d managed to rile him.
Thatcher was known for his terrible temper; he tended to snap and bite with words at anyone who came close.
For the longest time, he’d been as much of a loose cannon as Solear was.
He’d calmed a bit over time, but still, he was the one all the mated guys warned their mates to stay away from.
I had never felt like that was fair, not until I saw the fury in his dark eyes.
I had to be suicidal to snap at him rather than back away like my instincts were telling me to.
“I didn’t ask for your protection, Thatcher.
You have no claim over me, so you don’t have the right.
” It was definitely the wrong thing to say.
He seemed to grow in size, not literally, simply because he leaned over me even further.
His eyes flashed with that fury he kept banked inside his chest. It roared to the forefront now, rumbling from him in a low, rough growl.
“No claim?” he said, as if I’d just denied him the very air he breathed.
My chest grew tight, and I really tried to ignore that it was because hope was spreading through my body.
Hope? Hope this surly, stalker of a bastard actually wanted to lay claim to me?
I was the Varakartoom’s head engineer for a reason, and no male had ever tamed me or claimed me—least of all this grumpy, angry shadow.
“No claim,” I said stubbornly, and then he kissed me.
Thatcher caught my head with one hand, his mouth descending, and he made damn sure I knew what he wanted of me.
That kiss was all about staking a claim; it was a warning and a threat, or maybe it was a promise.
He tasted like darkness and sin; his lips soft, but his caress firm.
That hand on the back of my head was big enough that I felt like there was no place to retreat.
This was a branding, and when he finally let me up for air, I knew I was never going to be the same.
“Thatch,” I sighed, staring into the fury still blazing in his eyes.
He bared his teeth at me as if I’d offended him, but he didn’t let go of me, didn’t back away.
He crowded me against the wall with his big body, filling my vision.
I felt his heat surround me and the press of his thigh between my legs.
A whimper slid from my throat, and my breasts ached, nipples perking.
I thought he’d kiss me again, just to remind me that the moment was real.
Perhaps he’d press me into the wall at my back, then lift me so I could curl my legs around his hips.
Instead, his body grew tense as a bowstring, and not in a good way.
He seemed to vibrate, a deep rumble of discontent issuing from his throat.
His hand slid down to the nape of my neck and curled around my braid.
I felt a tug on my hair, and instincts long ingrained in me took over. Nobody touched my hair.
My kind solved everything without violence, and that was damn frustrating when it came to self-defense.
As a result, I’d learned a million ways to break someone’s hold and slip away.
I twisted my arm against his wrist, yanking my hair free, then ducked to the side and tucked myself into a roll.
When I came to my feet, I was braced to run, to dive again and escape, my heart pounding furiously in my throat.
I blinked, confused, when I discovered that nothing was as it seemed.
Thatcher had seemed a threat, the kiss changing from a claim out of passion to something akin to possession.
He wasn’t where I thought he’d be; chasing me, fury still riding him in ways that made him dangerous.
Instead, he had his back to me and stood in the open doorway of the elevator.
Not to block me from leaving, but to stop someone else from entering.
“Are you okay, Ysa?” That was Ivo’s voice, calling out to me from beyond Thatcher.
I could not see him, because the stupid human mercenary took up way too much space.
I rose slowly from my crouch, my hands nervously smoothing over my braid.
My mouth still tasted like Thatcher, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted Ivo to leave so he could kiss me some more, or to never see his stupid face again.
Currently, I seemed to feel equal parts anger and desire for the bastard.
“Pretty sure you’re in more danger than I am.
Leave,” I said to Ivo. He must have come to investigate when he heard the elevator doors and scented me, but I hadn’t shown up.
I was equally sure that my denial of Thatcher having any claim on me was not the only thing that had set him off.
It had started when I’d expressed seeking Ivo and Grunn’s protection.
Some of these mercenaries with mates had gotten extremely possessive and dangerous when they first found their mate.
I didn’t kid myself into thinking I was Thatcher’s mate.
Humans didn’t do fated mates, and even if that’s what this was, I doubted he’d get less dangerous and possessive over time.
All the red flags were back, and I should hate him for doing this to me, to my family, but my pounding pulse betrayed me.
I still wasn’t scared. I hadn’t even truly feared him when I’d broken his hold.
My hand touched the back of my neck, where my braid began.
Strands had gotten loose from the braid, and heat scalded my skin.
Thatcher was in protective mode because of Ivo in the hallway, not angry because I’d blocked him from touching me further.
“He’s nuts, Ysa. We should call the captain…
” Ivo’s voice trailed off when Thatcher lunged forward a step.
I wasn’t quite sure what he said, because it was spat out so viciously, but it made my engineer back up with a rapid patter of footsteps.
“Blazing stars, call him off if you can.” Ivo’s voice grew softer as he retreated all the way back into the engine room.
I heard the soft hum of an energy shield as it engaged.
“Happy now?” I demanded of Thatcher. “I wasn’t in danger.
That was just Ivo, damn it. You managed to scare my seasoned engineer away.
You got what you wanted, so let me out.” Thatcher did not look back at me, but slowly rose from his protective, slightly crouched position.
I thought he tilted his head just a tad, but he did not turn fully to look at me over his shoulder.
He was a menacing figure in black, his long hair obscuring his face.
I could not even see the edge of his jaw.
He wasn’t going to speak again. Whatever had happened in that elevator, the moment was officially over.
He stepped aside slowly but did not move far.
When he did look at me, I no longer saw any sign of fury in his eyes.
He seemed calm, right down to the half-smirk he seemed so fond of wearing in my presence.
He was daring me, with the jut of his chin, to walk past him, forcing me to brush against his body if I wanted to get out.
I was a nervous wreck, my legs trembling and my hands shaking, but he didn’t move, didn’t reach out.
He let me walk down the hallway without following me, though his eyes tracked my every move.
I ducked into the engine room and abruptly came up against the force field Ivo had erected.
Grunn swore at him, his meaty paw a blur as he slapped the back of the Pretorian’s head. “Let her in, you idiot!”
The force field lowered the next moment, and I stepped into the familiar scents and sounds of the engine room with a shudder.
Almost immediately, my sense of control was restored, my confidence surging.
The bastard had done exactly what I’d feared and anticipated for months.
After that brief moment this morning when I thought he might not care about me… I felt like I was back on solid ground.
I couldn’t help it; a smile spread across my face.
I could tell both of my boys were confused by my reaction, and worried.
Turning, I leaned back out of the doorway.
Yup, he was still there. Thatcher had casually taken up a sentinel position in the hallway—a soldier standing at ease, but with his eyes alertly scanning everything around him.
He was back in guard mode, like that moment in the elevator hadn’t happened.
Except that it had, and now everything felt different.