Flying a spaceship was beyond her current skill set. She’d learned quite a lot in school, but the knowledge she most needed on this adventure—Vestigi curse words and operation of a spaceship—had been omitted.
If she tried to fly this thing, she could end up lost somewhere in the vacuum of space, overtaken by space-pirates, running out of fuel in the fringe galaxies.
She shuddered.
Eventually, she’d have to let him back in.
He’d probably kill her.
But not until she’d had a bath. She abjectly refused to die sweaty.
The bathing chamber was dark and quiet, and insulated from his rattles and bangs.
When she slathered her feet with soap and rinsed away the blood, it stung to blazes. A whole layer of skin had rubbed off the backs of her heels, the sides of her toes, and the top where the slippers had pinched. It left new skin, hot pink, shiny, and tender.
She rinsed the shoes and tossed them into the corner to dry. Her dress was a mess, coated with river water, sweat, and dust. She washed it out and hung it up.
Occasionally, bangs and bashes echoed along the sides of the ship. Torum, no doubt, searching for weaknesses on his vessel. Pray all the gods he didn’t find one. Not yet.
She took her time in the great pool, enjoying the warmth of the water washing away the dirt and grime, the soothing room with its dark walls and dim lights, the herbal aromas.
She huffed out a long sigh, running a trail of soapy bubbles up her arm.
Her flowers, perky now, with their long white tendrils of leaves and blue petals, sat in the corner, reminding her that he’d watered them only that morning. Such a strangely thoughtful action, from a man so volatile and erratic.
And that kiss. Dark and sinfully delicious. And dangerous. The girls at the Institute had whispered about kisses, and she had asked Agammo to show her how, but he’d always been steadfast in his resolve that they wait until their Bonding.
Oh, Agammo. She thought of his soft hands and gentle smiles.
She’d betrayed him with that kiss.
A loud bang came from the back of the ship, and she lurched, sloshing water over the sides of the pool.
She’d have to face him eventually.
No sense prolonging the worrying. Worrying was almost always the worst part of anything.
Time to face him.
She emerged from the pool and dried off. Her wet dress lay on the black tile floor. The thought of putting it back on was appalling. Even worse was the idea of the itchy dress with its high neck and long sleeves.
He’d told her to ask for everything she needed, but he could hardly get any angrier. And it wasn’t as if she could ask him now.
Another bang.
With the towel wrapped around her chest, she peeked into the hallway. His angry face filled the porthole. The sight of her in the passageway brought on a renewed frenzy of shouts and bangs.
That sealed it. She might as well do as she liked and let him get over all his anger in one go.
She ducked into his chamber and rummaged around until she found a fresh shirt and a pair of clean socks.
The socks were far too big, but they were soft, and they’d keep her wounds clean until she found a medi kit.
When she dropped the soft garment over her head, she sighed. Heavenly. Cool and roomy and falling well past mid-thigh. A far cry from the tight, staid gowns she’d always worn. The sleeves had to be cuffed up several times to free her hands. She walked down the passageway, running her fingers through her damp hair to comb it.
She approached the porthole at the hatch at the entrance to the ship. Torum’s face filled the space, the sky darkening behind him.
He didn’t say anything, just glared through the glass. He’d removed his sunglasses, and those dark eyes burned into her. A muscle in his jaw ticked. His eyes blazed. His nostrils flared.
Her skin prickled in fear, and she took a step backward.
Fury poured through the glass.
“I’ll let you in, Torum, but I need your word that you won’t hurt me.”
A muscle below his eye tightened.
“Swear you won’t be mad?”
He didn’t even flinch. “You will have to let me in at some point. And if that point is anything more than...” His mouth shifted into a snarl. “Five. Fucking. Seconds.”He accentuated each word with a hard slam of his fist against the hull.“From. Now. I. Will.” Bang. “Be.” Bang. “Furious.”
Her blood chilled, and her mouth went dry.
Maybe he could stay out there overnight and think about calming down. She backed away a step.
The blue of the sky behind him was giving way to star-speckled black as night claimed the surface of this moonless planet.
A vein bulged on his neck.
He shouted incomprehensible words that she tried to ignore.
He looked over his shoulder, slamming his fist against the glass again. “Let me the fuck in, Klymeni!”
Something crashed against the hull of the ship.
Another crash.
He ducked down, raising his arms up to cover his head.
“Open the door. Now.”
He looked almost scared. And that, more than anything, scared her.
Her fingers shook, scrabbling against the hatch as she slid it open.
The hatch had barely slid inward an inch before he shoved his way inside with so much force that she fell back and landed on her bottom with a thud that sent the air from her lungs.
He didn’t spare her a glance, cursing, slamming the door, a whirlwind of dark hair and tattoos and a furious face.
He stormed down the passageway, shirt torn and stained, dark with red. He grabbed something from a closet. A constant stream of black curses filled the air.
The fact that he hadn’t bothered to even look at her was somehow even more frightening. What had him so worried?
Whatever it was, lashed against the hull of the ship. Thwack. Thwackthwack Thwackthwackthwackthwack.
She cringed against the bulkhead
