Page 8 of Deserted

A short nod.

“Well. Thank you for that.” I ran a hand through my hair, wincing when my fingers caught in tangles. “Though I’m still not clear on why you were there to find me in the first place. Or why this place is quarantined. Or how I’m supposed to get home.”

Rhaekar moved to a small table on the other side of the room and returned with something that looked like a protein bar, only it was blue and faintly luminescent. He held it out to me.

“Eat. Then rest. Questions later.”

I took the bar reluctantly. “Is this going to turn me into a Smurf? Because I have to say, blue isn’t really my color.”

The corner of his mouth twitched again—almost a smile, but not quite. Progress.

I unwrapped the bar and took a tentative bite. It tasted better than it looked—something between almonds and vanilla, with a hint of cinnamon. My stomach growled again, reminding me how hungry I was, and I devoured the rest in three bites.

“So,” I said after swallowing the last mouthful. “Sixteen hours trapped in here with you. Whatever shall we do to pass the time? Twenty questions? Truth or dare? Naked Twister?”

That got me a full-on blink of surprise, his pupils contracting to thin slits before expanding again. I grinned, oddly pleased to have finally rattled him.

“You will rest,” he said, his voice even deeper than before. “Your body requires recovery.”

“Fine, fine. All business, no pleasure. I get it.” I stretched, wincing at the stiffness in my muscles. “But just so you know, I’m not great at following orders. Never have been. It’s kind of my thing.”

For the first time, something like amusement crossed his features—a slight softening around his eyes, a barely perceptible quirk of his lips. “I gathered that.”

I laughed, surprised by the dry humor in his tone. “Oh, so the cat alien does have a personality buried under all that brooding intensity. Good to know.”

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t move away either. He just watched me with those impossible eyes, studying me like I was a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. The intensity of his gaze should have made me uncomfortable, but instead it sent a different kind of heat through me—one that had nothing to do with desert suns or radiation exposure.

“Can I at least get a tour of my stylish new prison?” I asked, gesturing around the small medical bay. “Or am I confined to this room?”

Rhaekar considered this for a moment, then nodded once. “Follow. Do not touch anything.”

He turned and walked toward the door, his movements still unnervingly graceful for someone his size. I stood and followed, curiosity temporarily overriding my fear and confusion.

Whatever had happened, however I’d ended up here, I was stuck for the next sixteen hours minimum. With an alien who looked like he’d walked straight out of my most secret fantasies, who spoke like each word cost him credits, and who had apparently saved my life.

There were worse situations to be in. Probably.

“Lead on, Thundercat,” I muttered under my breath as I followed him through the doorway. “Let’s see what kind of mess I’ve landed myself in this time.”

4 /RHAEKAR

The human femalefollowed me out of the medical bay, her footsteps quick and light compared to my measured stride. I could hear her heartbeat, still slightly elevated, smell the lingering traces of desert sand and medical antiseptic on her skin. The scent beneath it all—citrus and spice—called to something primal in me that I refused to acknowledge. Not now. Not when she was looking at me with those wide, dark eyes, waiting for explanations I wasn’t authorized to give and answers I wasn’t prepared to offer.

“This is the main corridor,” I said, gesturing to the narrow hallway with its reinforced walls. The words felt inadequate even as they left my mouth. What I wanted to say was: This is where I’ve spent countless solitary rotations, never knowing I was waiting for you.

Instead, I pointed toward the various sealed doorways. “Communications. Storage. Sustenance preparation. Sleeping quarters.”

“Wow, so spacious,” she quipped, the sarcasm evident in her tone. “Do you also have a ballroom and an Olympic-sized swimming pool tucked away somewhere?”

I blinked at her, momentarily confused. Humor. She was using humor to mask her fear. A surprisingly effective coping mechanism, though it made interaction more challenging. I’d been trained to interrogate, intimidate, and when necessary, eliminate. Not to...banter.

“The outpost is designed for efficiency, not comfort,” I replied, leading her toward the monitoring station. “One Legion operative. Maximum fourteen-day deployment.”

She followed close behind me, close enough that her scent enveloped me with each step. Close enough that if I turned suddenly, she would collide with my chest. The thought sent an inappropriate surge of heat through my veins.

Focus, Reaper.

The monitoring station hummed with activity—screens displaying atmospheric conditions, radiation levels, and the storm’s progress. I gestured toward the main display where swirling patterns of orange and red showed the storm’s intensity.

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