Page 25 of Salvation for the Alien Mercenary
He didn't look up when she entered. In fact, he seemed to be deliberately focusing on his drink, as if the contents of his mug held the secrets of the universe.
She swallowed against the lump in her throat. So that was his approach. Ignore it, and her, completely. Like she didn't exist. Like last night hadn't happened.
Fine. She could play that game too.
Rann stood at the galley's main cooking station, managing multiple pans with surprising grace. Stacks of golden-brown pancakes piled high on a serving platter beside him. Jesh and Covak were already seated, sharing a plate piled high with the breakfast treats. Ryke sat alone at the far end, reading from a datapad while methodically working through his own stack.
"Morning," Mira offered, her voice cracking slightly. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Morning, everyone."
A chorus of mumbled responses greeted her, ranging from Ryke's curt nod to Covak's grin. The Vorrtan's eyes sparkled with barely contained amusement as they flickered between her and Davis. Heat crawled up her neck, but she forced herself to walk normally to the beverage dispenser, as if nothing were amiss.
Spot scuttled beside her, examining the galley's various power outlets and finally settling on one near the base of the counter. The drakeen core plugged in with a satisfied chirp, sensors dimming slightly in contentment. Obviously, the power in here tasted better than it did in her quarters.
"Sleep well?" Covak asked innocently.
Jesh elbowed him sharply in the ribs. The blow would have fractured bones in a normal being, but the massive Vorrtan merely grunted, his grin widening.
"Fine, thanks," Mira lied, focusing intently on programming the beverage dispenser in the middle of the table for Terran coffee, extra strong.
"Another mouth to feed, I see," Rann grumbled as he glanced up from his cooking. "Sit down before you fall down, female."
She startled at being directly addressed. "Oh, you don't have to... I can make something for myself. I don't want to impose."
The big pilot waved a spatula dismissively. "Already cooking. Makes no difference now."
She hesitated, caught between the desire to flee and the genuine hunger gnawing at her stomach. "If you're sure..."
"I said sit." He pointed the spatula toward an empty seat, a smile in his eyes.
She picked a spot away from Davis, but she could still see him from the corner of her eye. His shoulders had tensed at the exchange, though he still hadn't looked up.
Rann finished a fresh batch, sliding them onto a plate before depositing it in front of her with a flourish. The pancakes steamed invitingly, golden-brown and perfectly formed, the scent making her mouth water and her stomach rumble.
"Thank you," she said, genuinely grateful.
He shrugged. "Not many humans appreciate the finer points of Latharian cuisine," he said with a wink, surprising her. He was usually a lot more reserved.
Before she could reply, Davis slammed his mug down, the contents splashing over the rim as he pushed away from the counter.
"Stay away from her," he snarled, stalking toward Rann with deadly intent.
The room froze. Mira's fork clattered against her plate, forgotten.
Rann straightened to his full height, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his features before his expression settled into something more controlled. "What?"
"You heard me." Davis's voice had dropped to a dangerous register she'd never heard before, the words clipped and sharp as blades. "Back. The fuck. Off.Now."
Rann's brow furrowed, genuine confusion replacing his earlier amusement. "Tell, what the hell are you?—"
Davis grabbed Rann by the front of his shirt, slamming the much larger Latharian against the cooking station. Cookware clattered to the deck as Davis's forearm pressed against Rann's throat.
"Davis!" Mira gasped, half-rising from her seat.
"Tell!" Ryke barked, on his feet instantly. "Stand down!"
Davis ignored them both, his focus entirely on Rann, who made no move to defend himself beyond raising his hands in a placating gesture.
"You don't touch her. You don't look at her. You don't evenbreathein her direction," Davis growled, pressing his forearm harder into Rann’s throat. "Understood?"
