Page 118 of Seven Oars
She could see he had no confidence in her.He wasn’t on board with her plan.
But then, he hadn’t been on board with much of any plan, except sending a distress signal and hoping it would stick.
And when it hadn’t, he got lost.
Essentially, that had been Phex’s problem from the start: a great warrior with strong principles, he struggled handling life’s curveballs. He hadn’t known what to make of flying the women to Priss in a stolen cruiser, and he was out of his depth on Seven Oars.
Not because he was alone against many.
Because it was a zoo.
Well, Rosamma refused to let this opportunity pass. Defiance filled her veins with purpose.
“I’ll poke around the Service Block,” she said.
“It’s a bad idea.”
She stood up.
“Rosamma!”
But she’d already moved away.
The coast was clear.
She made a short trip down a clangy passageway to the Service Block without a mishap.Sliding in, she took a good look around.
Unlike the Habitat, the equipment here was still affixed to the walls. Mounted workstations and desks looked functional.
She took it all in, squinting at screens, control panels, and levers, feeling as useless as ever. Why wasn’t she like Ren, a wiz with technology?
Uncomfortably hot, Rosamma stubbornly refused to abandon her snooping.
She went clockwise around the Service Block, poking screens and pressing buttons. One small break was all she needed. One button to respond in just the right way.
Fear of setting off an alarm dominated the dense clump of other fears rooted inside her chest. Her fingers shook, and she kept looking over her shoulder, expecting an irate pirate to stumble through at any moment.
If she got lucky here, they would still have to release Phex from the chains. The station must have tools. They just needed to find the right one.The women would think of something. Gro, Eze.
She wasn’t alone in this.
“What are you doing?”
The sound of that quiet, accented voice was like a blade slicing along her spine.
Her hands slipped from the panel and dropped to her sides. It was like her whole body shut down.
But not her pulse. It hammered, pushing hot blood through her malfunctioning body.
“Turn around and answer me.”
She turned slowly.She didn’t want to face her death, but she couldn’t help looking.
She had always measured him against others of his kind and found him large. But now, with nothing to compare him to except her own unimpressive frame, her mind struggled to process how absolutely massive he truly was.A solid wall of a male.
Without a shirt, his bare torso was a study of tight flesh molded with high tolerance in mind. Burn scars marred his right shoulder and side, a continuation of the injury that had disfigured his face.
He had the indigo Rix tattoos at the base of his throat, and not a few random hieroglyphs like some other pirates—a full, intricate set.
