Chapter 7
Mace had thought it was a good idea to allow Nia some time alone, some space, but when he walked through the doors of his quarters, the sight before him made him take an involuntary step back.
She’d demolished everything. Fruit peels and juices were smeared on the bulkheads and deck. All the shelves from the refrigeration unit were pulled out and tossed. Ration tubes were emptied then thrown.
I should have kept her bound.
The only thing remaining in its original location was the table—probably because it was bolted to the deck. One of the chairs lay in the center of the room, the other beside the far bulkhead. It looked like she’d chucked the thing at the terminal. He squinted at it. Yep. Definitely a dent in the middle.
The destroyer herself lay on her side, her hands tucked under her chin, knees bent to reveal her socked feet. A wrapper hung in the overhead beams, threatening to fall on her head.
His next step inside crunched on the broken pot of his orange tree.
What the hell was he supposed to do with her? He ran a hand over his face. Waking her was probably a good start, but he wasn’t looking forward to defending himself against her. He rather liked owning eyes and testicles.
Mace collected the chair in the center of the room and placed it on its feet before sitting. He cleared his throat.
She shot to her feet like a fighter out a launch tube. Standing on the bed, she clutched a piece of plant pot in her hand, holding it in front of her like a weapon.
“Stay back,” she yelped, her voice cracking.
His chest tightened. Placing his hands on his thighs, he leaned back in the chair. Her eyes were fixed on his and didn’t waver. He kept still, waiting for her to calm and adjust to his presence.
“I will not hurt you, izar.”
Her hand began to shake on the makeshift weapon, almost imperceptible at first, then her whole arm trembled.
“What do you want?” she finally asked, lowering the weapon a centimeter.
“I came to check on you and to see if you wanted new clothing.”
“Clothing?” Her weapon lowered farther. She glanced at the torn material at her shoulder, and his gaze followed. Alabaster skin contrasted with the black of her uniform. With one hand, she tried to lift the flap, but it flopped forward. She gave up, grasping the weapon with both hands and pointing it at him with a jab. “What do you mean by clothing?”
“Clothes. The normal kind. Pants go on one leg at a time. Shirts over your head.”
She didn’t break a smile at his attempt at humor, didn’t even blink.
Mace exhaled. “I’ll take you to a shop. You can pick out what you like.”
Her face tightened.
“There’s a nice place in the atrium where we were earlier.”
Her features relaxed, and she lowered the pot shard. Maybe she thought she could gain her freedom in such an open space. Emotions played across her face, like she was having a conversation with herself in her head.
Finally, she hopped to the deck and primly set the shard on the edge of the bed. She stooped to pull on her boots before smoothing the front of her bloodstained uniform.
“Clothing would be appreciated, thank you.”
He almost shook his head at her forced manners. CORE citizens were nothing if not polite. Standing, he walked to the door and waited for her to join him. She strode through the carnage with her head held high, stepping over each smear of mess with a dainty hop. He might have found it comical if it hadn’t been his quarters.
When she stopped beside him, he touched his vambrace and her wrists clasped together on a click.
A strangled sound came from her throat as she turned her gaze to his, her jaw clenched. He had the urge to undo the bonds but knew he couldn’t. Not without repercussions to both of them. He turned away from her infuriated eyes and stepped into the corridor.
Jaw clenched, Nia kept her gaze glued to Mace’s back, watching the play of muscle beneath the skin-hugging material as they walked the corridor. He’d changed into a warrior’s uniform, like the one his friend had been wearing the day before, but Mace’s had long sleeves. The dark blue of it suited his olive complexion. He’d shaved too. It almost made him look…respectable? Less threatening?
She shook her head, eyes lowering. Stars above, why did Tellusians wear such tight pants? He might as well be naked given how much they left to the imagination. Gluteus maximus, gluteus medius, tensor fasciae latae. Medical terminology helped her keep it professional instead of appreciating the way his muscles bunched and shifted.
Her eyes rested on his gun. All the warriors she’d seen yesterday in the corridors had at least one gun strapped to their thigh, some with two, and numerous blades as well. Mace only had the one, no knives.
They arrived at the lift, and he turned to her, catching her stare. She stepped back, heat flooding her neck and face.
He held her gaze, his brow puckering. “That would not end well for you, izar.”
She shivered at the threat given in such a soft tone, was about to deny she’d been thinking about grabbing the gun, when he touched the panel beside the lift.
The door slid open. He gestured for her to enter ahead of him. They both turned and the lift doors closed, sealing them inside. As it rose, she cast him a glance out of the corner of her eye. She’d thought him intimidating before, but in his Tellusian uniform, a weapon on his thigh, it was ten times worse.
The lift stopped, the door opening. Mace sent her a brief glance before leading the way out. She followed him onto the third level of the atrium, to a door marked CAL3-027. It slid open when he touched the side panel.
Mace stepped through first, and she followed, hesitant. The space was as large as his quarters, but bolts of fabric covered the bulkheads with bright colors and bold patterns. Nia squinted against the offensive glare. Some of the fabrics were even changing color and pattern.
A woman sat on a stool beside the counter at the rear of the space and lifted her head. Her eyes widened. “Mace.”
Her black hair was swept into an elaborate style on her head, her eyes outlined heavily in dark makeup. The red dress she wore had cutaways everywhere, revealing more flesh than it covered, despite the skirt being floor-length. So much skin.
The woman didn’t say anything for long seconds, only stared, then she shot to her feet before moving toward them, her eyes jumping from Mace, to Nia, then to her bonds. Nia flexed her fingers.
“Welcome. Come on in.” The woman’s accent wasn’t as thick as Mace’s, lilting in a different cadence, almost musical.
“You look well,” Mace responded with a smile.
His genuine pleasure made Nia’s stomach flutter. She glowered, turning her head to stare at the woman’s tattoo. A thin line of words, in a language she couldn’t read, spiraled its way from her pinkie finger to her ear.
She met Nia’s eyes, brow crinkling, then blinked at Mace. “You need some clothes?”
Mace nodded as he touched his vambrace and Nia’s wrists fell apart. “Whatever she needs.”
“Budget?” she asked, eyebrows raising.
Mace shook his head.
Her eyes brightened. “Great!” The woman grabbed Nia’s elbow and she instinctively pulled away.
Beside her, Mace took a step forward to separate them.
The woman frowned. “It’s okay,” she said to Nia. “I won’t hurt you.”
Her cheeks burned. She hadn’t thought the woman would hurt her, she just didn’t want to be touched. Nia pressed her lips together. She shouldn’t have to say it.
“Let’s go into the back,” the woman said after an awkward beat, pointing the with excessive gestures like she had a hearing problem instead of a touching problem. “I can get you started.”
Nia glanced at Mace. He was leaving her here? Tightness squeezed her chest.
“How long will you need?” he asked, a strained expression on his face as he glanced between them.
Without looking at him, the woman waved over her shoulder. “Give us an hour.”
“Thanks, Dee.” Shooting Nia one last glance, he left.
Unreasonable panic shot through her a second later.
The fragile expression on Nia’s face was almost too much. But Mace knew not to worry. Dee was safe, reliable. She wouldn’t do anything to upset or hurt his ward.
Running a distracted hand through his hair, he strode to the lift, then hit the control panel for the fifth deck. He had an hour—one hour to relieve the strain in his shoulders and try to rid himself of these protective, possessive, feelings that arose whenever his ward was near. Emotions he had no business having.
Striding past the barracks, Mace walked through the double-wide doorway of the sparring arena and jogged down the set of stairs immediately right. Grey, along with two other of his top instructors, worked with the new batch of tyros. The novice warriors were unarmed—standing orders until some of the more eager ones understood what control meant.
Mace gave Grey a two-finger salute and kept walking until he passed through the wide doorway leading to the target ranges. Returning the nods of the warriors who acknowledged him, he kept going until he reached the end of the corridor.
Four private rooms were housed in the rear corner, and two were empty. He scanned his hand and stepped into a small sparring space, everything matted from deck to overhead. One bulkhead held numerous weapons, but he didn’t reach for one, instead, pressing the control beside the door.
A cylindrical matted column rose from the deck until it connected with the overhead. Mace didn’t bother to wrap his knuckles before he started to beat the shit out of the thing.
The woman disappeared through a doorway behind the counter while Nia remained frozen in her spot. Abandoned. He’d left her there.
Black hair and outlined-eyes poked around the other side of the bulkhead, then she stepped fully into view. “I’m Deesha by the way. Everyone calls me Dee.” Cocking a hip, she raised her eyebrows expectantly.
Nia cleared her throat. “Nia.” She pushed at the torn edge of her uniform, trying to cover exposed skin, but it flopped forward again.
“Nice to meet you.” Dee waved her closer, gesturing to the counter. “Why don’t we look at a few things first, get used to each other.”
Forcing one foot in front of the other, Nia joined her, the counter separating them.
After a few taps on its glossy surface, Dee said, “Let me know if you see anything you like.”
Images of different fashions materialized in front of them, and Nia’s jaw went slack. It was beautiful work, but Dee couldn’t expect her to wear this stuff. She might as well walk around naked.
A few more pages of three-dimensional outlandish fashion and finally Dee arrived at more conservative styles. They still weren’t anything Nia was used to.
“Stop, please. That’s nice,” she said pointing to a woman wearing a long-sleeved tunic style top with leggings underneath. Despite it being rather formfitting and having a wide neckline, it would cover most of her skin, more than most of the styles she’d seen.
“Good choice.” Dee scrolled through more images. “Anything else catch your eye?”
“No. Thank you.” She stepped away from the counter so she didn’t have to look at the revealing fashions anymore.
Dark-lined eyes blinked at her. “What? No. You’ve got to take advantage of Mace’s creds while you can.”
Nia’s cheeks burned.
“Look,” Dee said when Nia didn’t respond. “I’ll fabricate the first one, and we’ll go from there.” Her hand stretched out, like she was going to grab Nia’s elbow, then she stilled and dropped it to her side. “The change rooms are in the back. We need to get you out of that icky stuff.”
Following Dee, Nia smoothed the wrinkles in her uniform. Three frosted glass doors lined one side of the narrow space.
“Get out your clothes,” Dee said, sliding one door open with a touch of her finger. “Boots too. All of it. I’ll make you some underwear. The room will scan your measurements, and I’ll return momentarily.”
The door to the change room slid shut behind her. Hesitating a moment, Nia kicked off her beaten-up boots and undressed. As soon as she stood naked except for her bonds and locket, the room scanned her with white light. Her mind returned to her first few minutes on this station, and she began to breathe fast. Exposed, she crossed her arms over her chest, and stared at the frosted glass door instead of the floor-length mirror. She didn’t want to see the defeated circles under her eyes.
Fabric flew over the top of the door, making her jump.
“Start with those,” Dee called.
Black leggings, a purple tunic top, and nude undergarments hung over the glass. Nia yanked them over, and quickly slipped them on, this time facing the mirror. They were tighter than she would have liked, but they would do.
“Can I see?” Dee’s voice came through the door. “I want to make sure the seamer got your measurements right.”
Nia touched the control and the door slid open.
Dee smiled. “You look great. Prefect fit.” Her eyes went right to the locket hanging against Nia’s sternum. “Oh, wow. That’s beautiful. Antique?”
When Dee leaned closer to peer at it, Nia covered it with her hand.