Page 38 of Rebel Fates

“Did you want it to hurt me more?” I ask with as little emotion as I can.

His attention snaps to my face. “No… not really. But I wanted you to learn your lesson for causing so much havoc—to ensure you won’t risk yourself again.”

“You mean… risking your crew-mates again?”

He tightens his jaw but doesn’t answer.

“I get it,” I say, and he looks at me doubtfully. “Really, I do. I would be protective of my crew if I had one. I’m not trying to cause problems. I’m sorry if I messed up by escaping and coming onto your ship. I just didn’t know what else to do. I was hoping whoever found me wouldn’t lock me in a cage, hurt me, and feed me inedible food. But you haven’t even tried to feed me,” I add that last bit with a bit of humor. However, I’m still upset that I’m starving.

Rok doesn’t acknowledge my apology or joke. Instead, he strokes an old scar located on my side. It’s three inches long across my hip and waist.

He notes a few of my other scars with a soft touch. But they are old and mostly faded. I only remember them when I undress in front of a guy for the first time.

“So… you’ve been in battle?” He studies my face curiously, like he’s trying to find something in me. “I didn’t expect you to be a warrior.”

“Of a sort.” I close my eyes and wish for my memories to float away. “But not like you think.”

When I glance back at him, our eyes lock. We both clearly see pain lurking inside the other. I don’t know how I know he has a painful history of his own, but I sense it in the depth of his gaze.

Rok doesn’t press for more information about my scars, getting the hint that I don’t wish to talk about mybattles,and continues his procedure.

Instead of asking about my past, he levels his stare at me. “There are always wars between planets, species, and tribes. We suffer wounds and even death from these conflicts. But I believe the personal battles fought with those who are supposed to be our safe haven can be the worst to face.”

He pauses briefly when my eyes go wide, but carries on. “These battles are not easily won. Nor are our supposed loved one’s sins even acknowledged for the breach of trust that they surely are. There’s no reprieve, no shelter in this sort of battle, because the war zoneisyour shelter.”

He has summarized much of how I felt all my life—the constant stress of worrying about another attack in the place where I’m supposed to feel safe enough to rest. “So, you know what that’s like?” I whisper, not wanting to spook him into not answering.

He frowns, and hesitates before confessing, “I was taken from my birth pack far too young. I was raised by… others. They were strict, reserved, and sometimes brutal. I know it was mostly because of the loss they had suffered, but it did not ease the pain of it.” Rok clears his throat as if he could take back what he said.

I hum my understanding. “When I didn’t behave the way my father expected, he would…” I flinch at the memory. “He would hurt me.”

Rok runs his finger down my long scar on my leg. I nod at his assumption that the man who gave me life had given me these wounds.

“He should not have done that to his offspring, especially to a precious female.”

My heart flips over from him calling me precious. Or was it just my gender he’s referring to?

He focuses back on my cuts. After the last laser stitch, Rok pats my sweaty forehead with a small cloth. It’s such a sweet gesture. He didn’t need to offer such comfort, even when he was healing my wounds.

My eyes drift closed as the first genuine sense of calm since my abduction from the LunaTek shuttle comes over me. The clove scent is powerful now, and I inhale deeply on instinct.

He sighs. “Thank you for the sentiment of regret about disrupting our lives, but it doesn’t solve our problem of you being on our ship at precisely the wrong time.”

My eyes snap open, jostled back into stress mode. “Whatishappening?” Maybe he will let me know what the danger is since he wants to keep me in my place.

“I can’t say without Serrat’s permission.” He wants to break and tell me their secret. I can feel it.

“But—”

Rok cuts me off. “You’re done.” He guides me to sit up with much more gentleness with his handling than when I first entered the medical bay.

The med bay door opens.

Zeek stands outside, impatiently waiting. “I found someediblefood,” he says with a wink. “Serrat wants her to eat with us in the galley.”

Rok protests, “She should rest—”

Zeek cuts him off with a glare, “Serrat’sorders.”

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