by Layla Nash
“Mm-hmm,” Mrax said. “That’s it.”
She frowned. “I don’t feel anything.”
“Just give it a moment.”
Rowan shook her head, pushing to her feet, and her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “I told you it wouldn’t work, I said it—”
And then her eyes drooped and when she took a step toward her room, she almost ended up on the floor.
Mrax smiled and jumped to catch her before she fell. “Right there.”
Rowan shook her head as his arm went around her waist to keep her against his side, and Mrax closed his eyes as he felt her sleepily press her face against his bare scales. “I’m not tired at all.”
He smiled and picked her up to carry her. Rowan’s arms linked around his neck and she sighed. Mrax held her there for a moment, marveling at how little she weighed and how small she felt in his arms, as his hearts beat a little faster and his scales warmed to keep her comfortable. He inhaled from her hair and murmured, “I know. It’s very impressive.”
“Damn straight,” she said, though it was interrupted by a colossal yawn.
Mrax chuckled and carried her into her room, placing her on the bed and tucking her in with heavy layers of blankets and sheets, and walked out before he acquiesced to the urge to curl up around her or sleep on her floor to protect her. He’d lost his damn mind, letting a female distract him like that. But he still slept near the door in his room, listening for her breathing and any signs that she’d woken or needed help. At least Trazzak and Jess hadn’t caught him giving in to a tender side of his personality he never knew existed. He thanked the stars for small gifts.
Chapter 13
Rowan
Rowan yawned and stretched, then froze as she searched her memory for what the hell happened. She remembered getting up to walk laps and Mrax surprising her, and then... Her whole face burned and she yanked the covers over her head to block out the world. Mrax talked to her and walked with her and even touched her arm. Offered to help her. Gave her a sedative and then…carried her to bed.
She groaned and buried her face in the thin pillow. Babbage save her from impulsivity and her own stupidity. She made terrible choices when she couldn’t quiet her thoughts and take time to deliberate on her own.
But... She sat up slowly. She hadn’t slept so well in ages. Since as long as she could remember, really. And she felt rested. Relaxed and at ease.
A small miracle.
Maybe those sedatives were a great idea and she’d only had the courage to accept because she’d been so crazy out of her head with restless energy. It couldn’t become a habit—no, definitely not. She’d seen one of her brothers dragged down a slippery slope by the clear liquor the family distilled out behind the barn. Rowan feared losing control even more after seeing how it affected him, and relying on any substance to get her through the day or night terrified her to her core.
She slid to her feet and pulled out some of her favorite work clothes, since she didn’t have to wear a uniform. Tough trousers and a lightweight shirt gave her room to move and plenty of pockets to stash treasures in. Rowan started to smile as she anticipated all the amazing things waiting for her in the dawn light of the rising suns.
Rowan bounced on her toes as she practically floated out the door and down the hall. Only Mrax was already awake, unpacking more of his medical kit. He handed her some protein packs and a water pouch without looking up. “Breakfast. The other two are not awake. We should wait to establish a search grid and—”
“I have an idea of where to go,” she blurted out. Rowan needed to get outside. Needed to, before she exploded. “I’ll go canvass the boneyard and—”
“There might be animals or other threats out there,” the Xaravian said. “It is not wise to—”
“I’ve got this,” she said and cheerfully waved her stunner around. “And I’ll use the comms to call for help if anything happens.”
Mrax’s dark eyebrow arched as he studied her, and heat rose in Rowan’s cheeks as a vague memory of him carrying her, almost cradling her, rose up. Imagine, she’d rested her head on his shoulder and ... turned to him for comfort. The medical officer’s head tilted and he opened his mouth like he meant to argue, so Rowan took the opportunity in the silence and bolted for the door.
On the flight in, she thought she’d seen a tenth-generation fighter with weapons pods on the belly that presented a unique signature the Alliance didn’t use. Which meant it was a perfect place to start trying to salvage a new fleet for the rebels.
Even though Mrax said something from the doorway, acting like he might follow, Rowan waved over her shoulder and picked up a toolbelt from the gear bag they’d left outside. She tucked the water and protein into one of her pockets and headed into the early morning sun. The farther she got from the cabin, the easier she breathed. Her face tilted to the sun and she smiled. It would be a good day.
Chapter 14
Mrax
Mrax spent part of the morning setting up the medical equipment he would need to save Rowan’s life if the engineer kept to familiar patterns and started taking risks in the boneyard, then headed out to help Trazzak catalogue the different weapons and spare parts that piled up around the cabin in ever-widening circles and heaps. He shook his head at the mess and the opportunities for getting hurt or spreading disease. What a terrible place to live. Two weeks was too long to spend in that inhospitable environment.
By early afternoon, Trazzak and Jess trudged back to the cabin to retreat into the cooled interior, but there was no sign of Rowan. Jess patted her face with wet towels, her skin an unnatural red, and winced as she checked the near-blisters on her arms. “Can you please get Rowan in here? She’ll work until she burns to a crisp.”
Mrax wanted to object but Trazzak wouldn’t leave his mate and the Earther shouldn’t have gone back into the sun. He handed her a regeneration pack to fix the burns on her skin, and carried more water and supplies as he headed into the boneyard to retrieve the engineer.
It took him an hour of trudging through the dusty, dirty, hazardous field of twisted metal before he tracked down the clanking and rustling of Rowan’s work. He started smiling before he realized it as he watched her from a distance, though he stood in the open where he was confident she could see him—if she ever looked up.
Rowan perched on top of a precarious column of parts and pieces she’d stacked on top of each other so she could reach the belly of a sleek attack ship of some kind. Even though she worked in shadows, her shirt was soaked through with sweat. Every visible inch of her was covered in grease or dirt or sweat, and most of her bare skin reddened in the sun like the other Earther’s. Rowan smelled intoxicating, even from a distance, and Mrax lingered a way away as he worked on his control. He wanted to touch her skin to see if it felt different, if it warmed in the sun like scales.
But as much as he liked watching her work—even with the anxiety of wondering if a strong breeze would knock over the crazy-ass ladder she’d constructed—he didn’t want her to burn like Jess had.
Mrax approached the ship, but Rowan didn’t look up. She muttered to herself and tore a handful of wires and conduits free, throwing them aside so Mrax had to dodge before they hit him in the face. The engineer shifted her weight and the ladder wobbled. Mrax reached out to stabilize it, his frustration getting the better of him. “Rowan. Be careful.”
“I’m being careful,” she said.
At least she didn’t sound terrified or surprised to see him. Not that she looked at him; all of her attention remained on her work.
He braced the ladder and looked around for something to use as a stretcher if she toppled to the ground and broke her fool neck. “Get down. It’s time for a break.”
“I’m almost done.”
“Rowan, it’s past lunchtime and it looks like you haven’t eaten or gotten water. Just take a break.” He rolled his eyes at himself for cajoling her instead of just telling the Earther to climb down and get her ass inside before she
got sun-sickness. Mrax could never let anyone see such a thing or Trazzak would never let him hear the end of it.
She glanced up, a frown wrinkling her forehead right under a dark smear of grease, and she paused to study the sky and the blazing suns. “I just need to get a few more things taken care of. I’ll be done in a little while and I’ll head back.”
Mrax didn’t believe her for a second. “Nope, let’s go. This’ll still be here in a couple of hours.”
“A couple of hours?” She stared at him in exasperation. “It can’t possibly take a couple of hours to eat lunch.”
“You’re burning in the sun,” he said, and pointed at her uncovered arms to make his point. “Jess is already ill from it. If you are incapacitated, the mission will fail. So you will be going inside.”
Her head popped up to peer at him through narrowed eyes. “You think the mission will fail?”
“Without an engineer to reconstruct these ships, yes.”
“Are you teasing me now?”
Mrax blinked and folded his arms over his chest. “No.”
“And you’re not just saying that to make me do what you say?”
“No. This mission requires an engineer, and you are clearly a talented engineer.” It made his chest hurt just a bit that she remained so suspicious and concerned about whether compliments were actually weapons to be used against her.
Rowan stared at him for a long time, then nodded and hopped down from the ladder of parts twice as tall as he was. Mrax cursed and jumped forward to steady her as she landed hard and her knees wobbled. Which left her braced against his chest and her wide eyes looking up at him. For a wild moment, his head bent and he imagined his lips against hers, her mouth opening to him in invitation, the soft sensation of her hands gliding over his scales...
But Mrax got control of himself and retreated, releasing her as quickly as possible so his hands wouldn’t get ideas of their own, and tilted his head back at the cabin. His voice came out more gruffly than he intended. “You need to hydrate.”
And he shoved another pouch of water at her.
Rowan shrugged and took the pouch as she headed back through the boneyard. Mrax followed on her heels, shaking his head at himself, and wondered why her pants clanked with every step, like she’d packed her pockets with scrap metal. He tried to convince himself he watched her walk and the sway of her hips because he needed to puzzle out why she gathered up all those pieces, but in reality his thoughts strayed to what her hips would feel like in his hands, pressed against his scales, underneath him...
He ground his teeth and banished the thought. It was only proximity to her that created the distractions. After the mission ended, he could get some distance and the rest of his good sense back.
Chapter 15
Rowan
Rowan definitely hadn’t heard Mrax sneak up on her until he spoke, warning her off the ladder she’d put together so she could examine how the weapons and navigation pods were attached to the fighter, and resented being interrupted more than a little bit. As much as she hated him walking along behind her, the thought of him walking beside her was even more unnerving. She could have sworn, for a moment after she jumped down from the ship, that he might have tried to kiss her.
He didn’t, of course. Rowan shook her head and hiked her pants up as they started to droop. On her wanderings through the boneyard, she’d picked up various bits of metal that could be used to fashion scales. Since she hadn’t thought to bring along a foraging sack, she stuffed them all in her pockets. Which weighed down her pants and threatened to expose her altogether.
Trazzak and Jess were nowhere to be found when Rowan stuck her head into the cabin. She turned to confront Mrax over misleading her, but his attention went to the fighter they’d arrived in. He shook his head and trudged into the cabin. “They’ve at least taken their... business elsewhere.”
Rowan held her breath as he passed by her and she caught the scent of his sun-warmed scales. She preferred that Jess and Trazzak took their noisy sex away from the cabin, but the thought of being alone in the cabin with Mrax slowed her feet as she followed him inside. He’d been right about the heat of the day—she’d sweated through her shirt and even her pants in some places, and desperately needed to clean up. But Rowan knew she’d just be going back outside to work on more ships, so it didn’t make much sense to shower and change until that night after she was done.
Mrax pointed at the table where stacks of meals waited to be heated and rehydrated. “Make sure you eat.”
She grumbled but took one of the less objectionable meals and ripped it open; the chemical reaction heated and rehydrated it at the same time, so in just a snap she had a hot meal.
It still tasted like garbage, but at least it was hot garbage.
She’d spent her fair share of years eating cold food out of cans and pouches.
Rowan ignored the thought and sat at the kitchen table, holding her breath as the chair she picked wobbled and threatened to collapse into kindling, and drew in her notebook while she picked at the food. Mrax sat on the couch across the room, his boots propped up on a stack of battered equipment manuals, and tilted his head back so he could close his eyes.
When it looked like he slept, some of the tension in Rowan’s chest uncoiled. He didn’t frighten her, definitely not. It was just... He was so in control and confident and capable. He saved people’s lives. He’d saved her life. And there was something about that quiet calm that she desperately needed. It scared her, how much she wanted to be near him. The night before, just walking next to Mrax started to settle some of the racing thoughts and her pounding heart. If he could do that just by being near her, what would being... more with him mean?
Not that a warrior like him would put up with her. Rowan shook her head and flipped a few pages in her notebook so she could check the notes she’d taken on his missing scales. Imagine, someone as scary as Mrax being arrested and held in an Alliance prison, and facing torture. Surviving torture. The least she owed him, after she’d served the Fleet for so many years, was a few repairs.
As Mrax dozed on the couch, Rowan finished her meal and got up to go back outside to start hammering and shaping the scales. Mrax lifted his head before she got more than a few steps closer to the door. “Stay inside until the first sun sets. It’s too hot yet and you’re all red.”
She meant to argue but the tightness of her skin signaled a hell of a sunburn. Rowan didn’t like the possibility of obeying him crossing her mind—or his. She frowned at the door and fished some of the chunks of metal out of her pockets. “I have work to do. I can do it inside but it’s loud.”
“Doesn’t bother me,” he said. His head fell back against the wall and his eyes drifted closed once more.
Rowan watched him for a long moment before unlatching her toolbelt to toss on the table, sitting down once more so she could fashion the bits of metal into different shapes. Periodically she glanced over at him to check her memory of the scales and to make sure he wasn’t watching her, but the Xaravian remained—apparently—oblivious.
She hammered faster and got the pliers out to adjust the edge so it might hook into the existing scales, and froze as Mrax grumbled, “I can teach you some breathing exercises to help calm yourself. When you get…agitated.”
Rowan eyed him, grateful he hadn’t opened his eyes. “I don’t get agitated.”
The corner of his mouth twisted. “Like last night, when you could not sit still. What do you call that?”
“Inspiration?”
“You are asking me or telling me?”
Rowan scowled at the scale she worked on, twisting the edge, and ignored his question. “Breathing differently doesn’t work. It’s all bullshit made up by people who want to sell you something.”
That, at least, made him lift his head to study her. “I used to think that as well. But I have found practices that work for me.”
She studied the array of a half-dozen scales in front of her; none of them were pret
ty or even well-made, but they were prototypes for the options she could make given enough time and better tools. Rowan pushed to her feet. “I’ll think about it. Stand up for a second.”
His eyebrow arched and he laced his hands behind his head. “You’re planning something.”
“I have to see if they’ll fit,” she said. Rowan held up a couple of the scales, wondering if he’d mind her using pliers to attach them when the old ones had been taken out the same way, and gestured for Mrax to get up. “They’re not as nice as they should be, but it’s a start. Let me see if they attach the right way.”
Mrax’s expression went from mildly curious to completely neutral. She didn’t usually have a good sense of what other Earthers were thinking, but she could normally guess right about fifty percent of the time. With Xaravians... there was no telling. She waited for curses or condemnation or some kind of explosion.
Instead, he stood very slowly and approached at a glacial pace, until she almost demanded he move faster. Mrax stood in front of her and studied her face instead of the scales. “You made these for me.”
“They’re not good,” she said. Rowan handed him the scales and dragged her chair closer so she didn’t have to reach up as she worked. “Just prototypes. To see which kind of metal is suitable, to get the shape right, test how to link it to the others...”
He gazed at the scales for a long time without speaking, then cleared his throat. “This is perhaps the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
She didn’t want to believe that, but if what he said were true... Well. It warmed her heart to know she’d managed to do something right for a change. Rowan’s cheeks heated even more than with the sunburn, but she focused on the scales and his shoulder so she wouldn’t be distracted by the quicksilver in his eyes and the intensity of his attention. It made her stomach squirm in a not-unpleasant way and raised the hair on the back of her neck. And she didn’t know what to do about that.