Page 38 of Star Claimed Omega
Every single pallet, each scrap of mat or blanket, was angled away from its output.
Soleil was too tired to mull the reasons why.
Still, it was warm, which would augment her threadbare jacket and blanket.
Soleil stepped below the vent.
The toasty condensation settled over her, blanketing her skin like a humid mist. The air carried a metallic scent, but she didn’t care.
She sank to the ground, dragging her duffel beneath her head like a pillow and curling onto her side.
She pulled the thin thermal blanket over her.
The concrete floor was unforgiving, but the shaft’s warmth gave the illusion of safety. The hum of turbines droned far beneath her, as did the thrumming of the power conduits just under the surface.
They were living ghosts,she thought, just like her.
She unzipped the top flap of her bag and pulled out her commtab. It powered on with a flicker, bathing her face in blue light.
Her thumb hovered over Astra’s contact.
Her friend would let her stay and offer her a couch, a blanket, and warmth. Maybe even food.
However, her finger didn’t move.
The idea of begging, explaining, and being judged at this late hour niggled at her.
Nada.
The indignity sat like acid in her throat.
Astra didn’t need to know about her failed life, nor the fight that ended with a cracked egg dripping down her spine, or the monster lingering in her mind.
In the few months on this ship, Soleil had managed to keep her private life separate from her workmates, part of her terrified of tainting what little goodness she had left.
So instead, Soleil tilted the commtab away and stared up at the duct vent.
Steam rolled down in waves of warm, damp air.
She closed her eyes, but Santi’s face surfaced like a lure.
His lopsided smile.
His molten-timbred voice slipped under her skin with a softness that cut deeper than steel.
His gaze at her made it seem like he was all over her secrets.
She took an inhale. The man had no place in her mind, and she had no right to think about him.
So she shoved his image from her thoughts and curled tighter, her arm encircling her duffel, her cheek pressed into it.
A droplet of condensation landed on her eyelid and slid down her temple like a tear she refused to shed.
7
Chapter 7
SANTIAGO
