Page 43 of Havik: Warlord Brides
Ridiculous.
Unable to fight a bemused grin, he turned away. No one needed to see that.
* * *
“This program is inferior.The actors simply stare at each other.” Havik had little patience for sitting idle and watching holographic images flicker, but when Thalia invited him to watch a show with her, he accepted.
“Are you blind? Look at them. So much emotion.” Thalia held up her bowl of noodles and slurped. Excess sauce clung to her bottom lip, begging for him to run his thumb over it and taste.
He forced himself to look away. “Terran faces all look the same,” he said.
“First off, rude, and a little racist.” She set the bowl down. Stabs—he refused to acknowledge the kumakre’s rank of admiral—scurried forward to investigate. “It’s all in the eyebrows. Like this one is super serious and pissed.”
If she did something with her face, he could not tell.
“And this one is surprised.”
Nothing.
“And this one is amused.”
Her face remained the same.
“This is pointless. If you are a civilized being, use words,” he huffed. “This nuance is unreasonable.”
She grinned.
“…you are teasing me,” he said.
And she laughed, tossing herself back on the pillows of the bench. She kicked her feet, rolling side to side in exaggerated mirth.
Havik caught a foot, holding it gently. Terrans were fragile, especially at their joints. His thumb rubbed the insole of her foot. Her breath hitched in her throat. The moment stretched out between them. The soft background noise of the film and the ship’s ventilation and life support systems fell away.
Tension in the air crackled between them. They could come together or push away, ignoring their mutual attraction.
He leaned in, intending to brush away the sheen of sauce clinging to the corner of her lips.
Something soft pelted him in the back of the head.
Annoyed, he dropped Thalia’s foot and whipped around. Ren stood in the kitchen area, taking aim with a bread roll.
“Oh, good, you are not busy. We need to discuss the fuel situation,” he said. Calmly, he split the roll and slathered it with butter, acting for all the stars like he had intended to eat the food all along and not use it as a missile. “I require your assistance. In another part of the ship. Alone.”
Havik glanced at Thalia, who had sunk back into the cushions of the built-in seating. Grabbing a pillow, she placed it over herself like a shield. “Might as well. It’s not like you were enjoying the movie.”
“Very well.” Havik had not known his friend to be a jealous male, but perhaps he was correct to separate them. They could not afford to compromise the mission with messy emotions.
Chapter 11
Thalia
Two weeks was a long time and they weren’t at their destination yet. A scheduled stop for fuel broke up the monotony of the journey. Apparently, Havik’s ship was slow and a gas guzzler.
Thalia couldn’t complain about the extra time to catch up on the last three years. Besides binging all her favorite shows and books, the added time helped clear the fog from her head. She felt sharper, more alert. If she enjoyed the time, she spent teaching board games to Havik and watching movies with him all snuggled up on the sofa in the lounge, that was just a pleasant side effect. And by snuggled, she meant she curled up in a pile of pillows with Stabs on her lap and Havik sat as far away as possible, his back rigid and never relaxing.
Good times.
As fun as that was, she welcomed the change of scenery and a chance to shop for necessities. Havik and Ren’s diet seemed to consist of packages of instant noodles—three flavors, such variety! — and chewy meat granola bars. Thalia never wanted a salad so bad in her life. Plus, she only had two outfits and needed to add to her wardrobe. Anticipating their arrival, she placed an order hours before docking.
