Page 24 of Salvation for the Alien Mercenary
He glared at the Vorrtan. "Don't go there.”
“Me? I didn't say a word," Covak replied, the innocent effect he was obviously going for ruined by his wide grin.
"You don't have to. Your face says it all."
Covak's expression dropped serious as he checked the wound, though amusement still danced in his amber eyes. “Well, you’re not bleeding again, which is good. But you've reopened the outer tissue layer, which is... not surprising, given your activities."
Davis closed his eyes, the full weight of what had just happened crashing down on him. The memory of Mira's expression as she fled replayed in his mind. The hurt, the confusion, the embarrassment…
Shit. He'd totally fucked things up.
* * *
She staredat the ceiling of her quarters for what felt like the thousandth time that night. Sleep had proven elusive, each attempt at rest dragging her back into memories of the medbay. Of Davis. Of his hands on her skin and his lips against hers.
Mira kicked off the thin blanket, overwhelmed by a fresh wave of heat. Exhaustion tugged at her, but whenever she closed her eyes, the scene replayed with vivid clarity… the intensity in his gaze, the rasp of his stubble against her palm, the hunger in his kiss. And in sleep, her mind eagerly continued where Covak's interruption had ended.
Those dreams... She pressed her hands to her burning cheeks, mortified by the phantom sensations still lingering on her skin. In the darkness of her quarters, she'd woken gasping, his name a half-formed whisper on her lips, the evidence of her arousal impossible to ignore.
Stars, had anyone heard her? The walls on theDreamweren't exactly soundproof. The thought sent a fresh wave of embarrassment through her.
The chronometer on her bedside table flashed 05:47. No point trying to sleep now. The ship's morning cycle would start soon anyway.
With a defeated sigh, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. The metal floor sent a shock of cold through her bare feet, grounding her in the present. Time to face whatever the day held.
Spot chirped from the corner, where he'd spent the night in low-power mode. She knew he was a robot, but she hadn’t been able to leave him on the cold floor. He looked at her from the little nest he’d made of her spare blanket. The drakeen core's optical sensors illuminated, tracking her movements as she shuffled toward the compact unit that passed for a hygiene facility on board.
"Morning, Spot," she mumbled, her voice rough from lack of sleep.
The robot chirped again, more insistently this time, sensors flashing in what she'd come to recognize as concern.
"I'm fine. Just... didn't sleep well." She forced a smile as a cold shower erased the last physical traces of her dreams, if not the memories.
Dressed in her combat fatigues, she stared at her reflection in the small mirror. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her complexion appeared paler than usual. Great. She lookedexactlylike someone who'd spent the night fantasizing about a crewmate. Spot clicked against the deck plates, circling her legs impatiently.
"Hungry?" she asked, grabbing a hair tie to secure her hair into its usual messy bun. "Let's go find you a power node."
The corridor outside her quarters remained mercifully empty. She kept her head down and her stride purposeful as she made her way toward the galley. Inside her head, she rehearsed possible scenarios for her inevitable encounter with Davis. Would he regret what happened? Pretend it never occurred? Want to talk about it? The possibilities tumbled through her mind, each more mortifying than the last.
"It's not a big deal," she whispered to herself, the words hollow. "Just a kiss. People kiss all the time."
Spot chirped skeptically, tapping along beside her.
"You're right," she conceded. "It wasn't 'just a kiss.' It was..." She trailed off, unable to find suitable words.
The sound of voices grew louder as they approached the galley. Laughter and the clatter of plates echoed down the corridor, along with the enticing aroma of something sweet cooking.
Her steps faltered. She wasn't ready to face everyone just yet. Especially not him. Maybe she should skip breakfast, head straight to her sim rig in engineering...
Spot prodded her leg, pushing her forward.
"Traitor," she muttered, but carried on walking.
The galley doors slid open with a hiss that felt impossibly loud. Conversation stuttered momentarily, then resumed as the crew registered her presence. She scanned the room quickly, her heart hammering.
There. Davis stood across the room, leaning against the far counter with a mug of something in his hand. Her breath caught as she saw him. He wore a tight-fitting shirt that accentuated the defined muscles of his chest and arms, the fabric stretching across broad shoulders. His dark hair was slightly damp, suggesting a recent shower, and he hadn't shaved. Stubble darkened his jaw, making him look ruggedly handsome in a way that sent an involuntary flutter through her stomach.
She forced her eyes away from his face, only to frown. He’d only been injured yesterday, but she couldn’t see any bandages or dressings under the thin material of his shirt.
