by Layla Nash
She pulled out a level and attached it to the hull to make sure the plates overlapped without creating a vulnerability or weak spot. “Yeah, we’ll see.”
Chapter 18
Mrax
They waited a week. Rowan spent practically every waking moment running around, climbing onto ships and piles of metal, and repairing ships that looked beyond repair. She exhausted Mrax just from watching her work. Most nights she fell asleep from exhaustion, sometimes in the middle of dinner and once in midbite, but she still occasionally worked up the courage to ask him about the sedatives. He didn’t mind a bit, especially since the sedatives would guarantee him a good night’s sleep as well. When she slept on her own, she still got up in the middle of the night to tinker and fiddle and draw plans for what she meant to do with the next ship in front of her. Which meant Mrax lay awake listening for the sound of the door opening.
At least he convinced her to do the tinkering inside the cabin, since the noise wouldn’t bother him and Trazzak and Jess eventually decided to sleep in the fighter instead of in the cabin. Mrax half-expected Rowan to object, but the Earther had reached the limit of her patience with her crewmate’s active sex life.
And that gave Mrax plenty of time to observe the engineer and evaluate whether he could convince her not to go along with Jess’s scheme to purchase more weapons.
But at the end of the week, once Rowan got half a dozen ships ready to fly enough to reach a rebel base for actual refitting and repairs, talk once more turned to sneaking weapons out of Dablon to further the rebellion’s goals. They’d received word from the Galaxos that the weapons stolen by the pirates were actually far more dangerous than expected, and any schematics and spare parts they could get from Dablon would be welcome to help the rebels reverse-engineer them.
It didn’t matter what Mrax said to Trazzak about the futility and insanity of approaching the Dablonians—the Earthers were convinced it was the only way, and Trazzak wouldn’t argue with his mate unless she insisted on putting herself in danger. Mrax fumed and nearly brawled with Trazzak over the warrior’s willingness to let Rowan put herself in danger, but in the end, with Rowan’s cheerful disregard for her own safety, they started planning.
He hated every second of it. He objected to almost everything. And still he eventually agreed to go along, because Rowan appeared willing to go on her own if he didn’t. Jess didn’t seem particularly concerned about the danger of sending her crewmate into danger alone, until Mrax suspected that the information officer used the mission as a ploy to push Mrax and Rowan closer together still.
Which was the worst motivation for running into danger.
They didn’t even have a particularly good plan. Despite Mrax’s best efforts to conduct some reconnaissance before walking up to the corporation’s well-guarded headquarters, Trazzak and Jess sketched out what they remembered about the building and its security measures so they didn’t alert the Dablonians to their presence. Rowan appeared content with that, pondering and asking questions aimed more at how to design her own security system than how to get in and out of a hostile building.
The night before they approached the corporation, Trazzak and Jess once more retreated to the fighter and left him and Rowan alone in the cabin. He didn’t mind at all. The more time they were around each other, the quieter and calmer Rowan seemed to get. She’d work on some machinery or fiddle more with the scales she made, and would eventually start to yawn and relax. It was his favorite part of every day they’d spent on Dablon, and his favorite time out of almost every memory he had since joining the Galaxos.
He couldn’t explain why he enjoyed her company, beyond the amusement and warmth she carried with her regardless of what she was doing. He sat on the couch and put his feet up, reviewing the floor plans that Trazzak drew, and pondered secondary and backup escape routes. He didn’t like going into a building without knowing at least three other exits. The last time he did, he ended up in an Alliance prison.
“Stand up for a second,” Rowan said, her attention on the dull metal scales she tinkered with.
It had become a routine over the previous week. She’d ask him to stand, he’d stand up, and she’d hover at his side to breathe on him and try to fit the scales to his shoulder and back. He hadn’t yet mentioned that he lost scales elsewhere. Mrax saved that for a later conversation, though the thought made him smile every time it surfaced.
Mrax pushed to his feet and went to the table so she didn’t have to drag her chair over, and stood patiently as she clambered up and squinted at his shoulder. The pliers never gave him pause, not in her hands, and though occasionally her touch tickled or ignited a dull ache, he never minded it. Although he’d discovered that flinching or muttering under his breath during her ministrations made Rowan far more likely to lean into his shoulder and side, and the soft ghosting of her fingers made his spikes rattle in anticipation.
Not that he flinched on purpose just to feel the warmth of her body pressed against his.
Mrax was starting to think he was in serious trouble being around the Earther.
Her hair came loose from where she’d knotted it back from her face, and for a moment it shielded her expression from him. He didn’t like that. He didn’t like her being hidden.
She frowned and blew a noisy breath up, flipping the hair out of her eyes, and juggled the pliers and a small ring link as she tried to wedge a scale to overlap with two others. Rowan mumbled something and took the scale out, standing there with her side against his arm. Mrax held his breath as she absently rested her arm on his shoulder, using him as a kickstand, and she fiddled with the scale for some time before she remembered he stood there.
Rowan blinked and the red flush crept up her throat to suffuse her cheeks. He didn’t remark on it, even though he enjoyed watching her color change. The Earthers only turned a few colors, but so far he liked all of them on Rowan’s face.
“What do we have here?”
Mrax jerked and tensed at the same time; he hadn’t heard the cabin door open nor Trazzak’s approach, and he growled as the unknown threat startled him and Rowan.
Rowan froze like she’d been caught doing something illegal, but she didn’t fall off the chair—so Mrax counted that a victory.
Trazzak grinned as he walked closer, attention on the tools Rowan held. He was about to say something annoying or inappropriate, but Mrax found himself moving before he knew what he did. He put himself between the warrior and Rowan, and set his jaw to keep from snapping at the other Xaravian. The threat remained unspoken, but Trazzak took one look at his red-orange scales and carefully stepped back.
Rowan hopped down from the chair and returned to the table, tinkering with the metal pieces. “I’m fixing his scales.”
“His what?” Trazzak didn’t move but kept his attention on Mrax.
Mrax’s shoulders flexed as he faced his friend, though his hearts said any male who walked into the room without knocking wasn’t really a friend. Especially when Mrax’s... His thoughts cut off as his brain finally realized what he’d done. Rowan wasn’t his mate. She couldn’t be his mate. He didn’t want a mate.
And yet his first reaction when Trazzak walked in had been to bristle and put himself between the distractible engineer and a warrior Mrax had known almost his entire life. They’d even been in the Alliance prison together for a short while, though Trazzak escaped before Mrax could. Still. He never would have chosen a female over his crewmates. Ever.
Not until Rowan, anyway.
Mrax shook himself as Rowan talked to Trazzak, though the Xaravian didn’t take his eyes off Mrax, and moved his shoulder to loosen the muscles before Rowan tried more scales.
Trazzak tilted his head at the large crate of dehydrated meals. “I just came in to get food.”
He didn’t move until Mrax stepped back, so he remained between Trazzak and Rowan as the other Xaravian moved cautiously through the room. At least Rowan remained oblivious. She patted Mrax’s shoulder and hopped back up on a
chair. “Let’s try it now.”
He grumbled but stayed motionless as Rowan touched his shoulder and neck and brushed his hair out of the way so she could fit the scales once more.
Trazzak didn’t speak until he was back at the door. “Do a good job, Rowan.”
“I am,” she muttered. “Why would I do a bad job?”
Mrax bared his teeth in warning at Trazzak, since the warrior made the girl uncomfortable or at least irritated, and clenched his fists at his sides. Trazzak just smiled and disappeared back into the night.
Which left Mrax alone with Rowan and a lot of intriguing thoughts.
Chapter 19
Rowan
Rowan finally hopped down from her chair, a crick in her neck making it tough to see straight, and patted Mrax’s shoulder where the fake scales lay mostly flat. “Okay, give it a swing and see how it feels.”
The corner of his mouth turned up, but he moved slowly and carefully away from her before stretching and swinging his arms. The Xaravian frowned thoughtfully, and got down to real exercises—push-ups and shadowboxing. Rowan watched his half-clothed exertion with a strange warmth growing in her stomach. He moved with smooth, controlled violence—the very epitome of a warrior. He put all the Earther males she’d been around to shame.
Which left her a little conflicted. Granted, she was the quirky one that none of the male crew bothered to ask to dinner. Or she was the little sister or “one of the guys” in the engineering bay.
She blinked and flushed when she caught Mrax watching her watch him. “Does it work?”
“They will do quite nicely,” he said. His gaze remained intense and his regular scales swirled with blue-green and violet. “It will be the best armored spot on my body.”
Her cheeks burned more. “Great. Do you have any other places without scales?”
“Yes.” But his mouth twitched when he said it.
Rowan frowned, suspecting more teasing, and gestured at the whole of his body. “Then let’s see so I can measure and collect more metal. We don’t know how much longer we’ll stay after we get the weapons, so I might as well get started.”
Mrax shook his head. “That is not a good idea.”
“Why not?” Her thoughts drifted, unbidden, to the strange tension between him and Trazzak just a few moments earlier. “Just show me.”
“The missing scales are... in a delicate area.”
She eyed him, not minding the absence of his shirt, and picked up a few of the other prototypes she’d made out of various alloys. “You want me to fix them or not?”
“Rowan,” he said quietly.
A silver sheen ran over his eyes and she shivered with her whole body. She’d only seen the Xaravians with blue scales when they were with the Earther women they liked. Which didn’t explain why he was all blue and purple looking at her. Maybe it meant something different. She cleared her throat and tried to push away the feeling that she missed out yet again.
When she didn’t speak. Mrax took a slow step toward her and held out his hand. “Sit with me.”
Nerves like the raging clouds of nano-wasps she remembered from the farm stormed through her stomach, and Rowan gulped for air as she took a tentative step toward him. The air grew thick and warm and tense. “There’s a lot more to—”
“It’ll keep until tomorrow.”
She didn’t know if that was actually true, but his scales grew more purple as he eased to sit on the couch. Rowan knew she should have run around in circles or retreated to her room to do sit-ups and push-ups until she passed out. Anything but going over to him like she’d been caught in the tractor beam of his gaze.
Then she stood in front of him, looking down at his silver eyes and beautiful multicolored scales, and she wished the scales she made could turn color to match. They were a dull gray monstrosity compared to the real ones.
Mrax’s dark eyebrow arched, then he reached for her hand. “Sit with me, Rowan.”
It was one of the few times she remembered hearing him say her name, and it sent shivers from her head to her toes. She shuffled forward and started to sink onto the couch next to him, but Mrax managed to redirect her and she found herself in his lap.
Sitting in his lap. Rowan’s whole face burned as her adrenaline surged, and she felt clammy and overheated and a little sick all at once. She cleared her throat and tried not to stammer like a country bumpkin. “This isn’t…I mean, I shouldn’t—”
“Breathe,” he said. Mrax took her hand and placed her palm against the scales that protected his hearts, and Rowan struggled not to squirm. He didn’t even act like it was out of the ordinary to have her sitting on his lap. “The breathing exercises.”
“Oh.” She took a wobbly breath. “Right. Working on the breathing exercises. I haven’t…been practicing.”
“I know you haven’t,” he said. Mrax’s arm tightened around her waist and a smile touched his mouth, then he took an exaggeratedly deep breath. “Start from the beginning.”
Rowan wanted to keep wiggling and fidgeting like she normally did, but maybe that was what kept her from finding utility in the breathing exercises. She didn’t dare squirm with Mrax’s hard, muscular body right next to her. Under her. All around her, it felt like.
He walked her through the exercises again and again until fatigue distracted her and the calm cadence of his words lulled her into an unfocused, dreamlike state. Finally her thoughts slowed and splintered into tiny little fragments, none of which were particularly concerning.
Mrax smiled and leaned his head back against the wall. “There. Does that help?”
Rowan felt like she moved through deep water or deep space. “Yeah. It does.”
“Good.” The Xaravian tugged on a belt loop on her coveralls. “Are you certain you want to do this tomorrow?”
The question should have been a dash of cold water, but instead, with the even rise and fall of his chest against her arm, it was just another conversation to have without getting all high-strung. Rowan frowned as she studied the wall only a few feet away. “Yes. I’m certain. It’s important, and right now there aren’t any other teams in a position to do this.”
“There are better-qualified teams who can be here in a matter of days,” he said.
Rowan inhaled and caught a hint of his earthy, very male scent. It reminded her of sunny days of hard work on the farm, right after a big rain, when the earth was freshly turned. “Time is of the essence. If we wait too long—even a few more days—we might be too late to save the rebellion. I don’t think there’s another choice.”
Mrax still didn’t look convinced. “It’s too risky. You could get hurt.”
“You’ll be there,” she said.
“And?”
“And you’ll make sure I don’t get hurt.” She blinked at him, her nose just inches from his, and wondered why he looked so surprised and amused at the same time. “Right?”
“That’s the plan.” Mrax sighed. His scales remained blue-green, though she caught a hint of purple occasionally.
He didn’t push her off his lap as he pondered, and Rowan waited for a joke or threat to pop up. She wasn’t used to being so close to a male without jokes or threats—or both—disrupting the moment. Instead, Mrax traced a shape absently against the small of her back, where his hands linked to keep her close to his chest.
Butterflies and nano-bridges jumbled up in her stomach and fired up her nerves until she almost jumped out of her own skin. What was he doing? What did he expect her to do? Had she missed some signal that meant she should have gotten up or ... or done something else completely? Did he expect…more?
“What are you thinking about?” Mrax asked.
She tensed, not daring look at him. That sounded like a trap. Rowan glanced at him and then away, her cheeks burning. “That I miss a lot of stuff that other people seem to get right away.”
From the look on his face—and what little she knew of Xaravian emotions and scale colors—he hadn’t expected that answer. “In w
hat context?”
Rowan cleared her throat and figured she might as well tell him everything, since they were about to go on a secret mission together the next morning. She didn’t want the stray thoughts to distract her, so it was probably better just to get them out there. “Well, just... I don’t know why I’m sitting on your lap. That isn’t… We haven’t done this before, and I haven’t seen any of the other Xaravians do this, so I don’t know if there’s something I missed. Maybe you expect to kiss me, or maybe you wanted me to get up a while ago, or maybe this is totally normal and I just haven’t been paying attention.”
Mrax blinked. She braced for ridicule and started to curl in on herself to protect her heart.
And then something strange happened. He didn’t push her away. He didn’t laugh at her or act like she should have known the answers already. Mrax’s arms tightened around her and pulled her closer.
Rowan’s breath hitched as the giant Xaravian gently pressed her head to his shoulder. When he held her as close as possible, Mrax took a deep breath. His hearts beat a steady rhythm against her side, and he played with her fingers. “You didn’t miss anything. I have not been clear—even with myself—on what I expect or should expect. Or what I would like to see happen. I am very pleased that you are here with me.”
Rowan went still, though she worried her lip between her teeth. He was pleased.
Mrax turned his head so he could nuzzle behind her ear. “I would very much like to kiss you, Rowan.”
And he waited.
She blinked and looked into his silver eyes. The silence stretched. Rowan steeled herself and whispered, “O-Okay.”
Chapter 20