Page 45 of Havik: Warlord Brides
The big lunk never noticed her steadily emptying his pockets. Every item made her feel smugger and cockier. Sure, this wasn’t the healthy means of problem resolution, but a satisfied grin spread on her face when he frowned and patted a pocket.
After sending her purchases back to the ship via drone, she was ready for a meal, preferably not instant noodles.
“Feed me, Danger B. I’m getting hangry,” she announced.
“That is not a word.”
“You’re gonna see how it’s not a word if you don’t get some food in me soon.”
“I have no preference. Pick a place,” he said.
Havik
Thalia selected a food stall that offered various meat on sticks.
“My treat,” she said, placing an order for enough food to feed three of her.
“Unacceptable.” He reached for the stick of anonymous credit—no sense tipping off any smugglers by using a Mahdfel account—but found his pocket empty. “Thalia. You said you would behave.”
“Oh my. How embarrassing.” She slapped down the missing credit stick onto the counter. “Maybe stop treating me like a criminal and I’ll behave.”
“Your logic makes no sense. Past actions determine your privileges, not anticipation and hopeful thinking.”
Oasis-blue eyes blinked at him. “Some days it’s really easy to understand why you’re divorced.”
She took the container from the vendor and sat at a nearby table. Havik eyed the tiny chair suspiciously, concerned that it would not take his weight. Carefully, he lowered himself onto it. The chair groaned but held.
Barely looking at him, she opened the parcel to reveal a variety of meat on wooden skewers, as well as fried balls of sugar-coated dough, similarly skewered. She ate mechanically, her posture stiff and combative.
“Eat with more caution. You do not know what you consume,” he said.
“It’s grilled meat. I don’t care,” she replied, her mouth full.
“The protein could be incompatible with Terran digestion, or you could be allergic to the seasoning.”
She raised the middle finger of her left hand.
He mentally reviewed their interactions since leaving the ship. Her normal, if inappropriate, mirth had vanished. “You are upset with me,” he concluded.
“How remarkably observant.” She took a too-large bite and chewed.
“You will explain this mood to me.”
She finished her skewer and tossed it into a discard pile. “Fine. You wanna know what crawled up my butt?”
“The condition of my ship is less than ideal but I eradicated the vermin infestation. Nothing crawled up anyone’s posterior.”
Her eyes flashed with mirth before her sour mood returned. “Here’s the thing: on the ship, when we were alone, you’re almost fun. The moment we’re in public, you turn all condescending.”
“I do not—”
“For the love of—” She tossed another empty skewer into the discard pile a bit more aggressively than needed. “Let me finish before you start explaining to me how I’m wrong about my own damn feelings.” She took a breath. “I’m not perfect, I didn’t pretend to be, and I have stolen in the past. I did what I had to do to survive. As a kid, my choices were to be a thief or be starving, okay? I haven’t stolen anything in years.”
“Other than today and the day we met.”
She exhaled sharply, disturbing the fringe of hair on her brow. “Yeah, well, that guy had it coming, and I didn’t spend any of that money.”
“Following that logic, I had it coming.”
