Page 46 of Ren: Warlord Brides
“Hmm. At least two, probably three, depending on how old the battery is. One more shot would knock out life support.”
“There is redundancy built into the life support system,” he said with triumph, like this was some battle of the wits.
“And the seals and gaskets that keep the ship’s atmosphere from venting into space? Got redundancy built into that? How many shots until we find out? Start counting.” She aimed the flare gun at the same panel.
“No! No.” He held up his hands in surrender. “You would injure yourself in a misguided attempt to harm me?” Then, in a softer tone, “You would injure my feline?”
“That thing is not a housecat. It’s a mountain lion or something,” she retorted, then shook her head to refocus. She was in the midst of a mutiny here and needed to stay on task. “Emergency pod. Get moving.”
She kept the plasma flare gun pressed to the back of his head as he punched in a code to unlock the escape pod.
“In you get.” She pressed the barrel to his head to make her point.
“Emmarae, do not do this,” he said, once inside the pod. He had to stoop, as the pod was not quite Mahdfel-sized.
“That’s not my name.” Anger flared once again.
“Emry. I did not tell you a falsehood.”
She wanted to deliver a cutting line, something bitter and clever, but the urge to scream in frustration nearly overwhelmed her. Rather than break down in a sobbing mess, she pulled the release lever and waved goodbye.
Surprise registered on Ren’s face as the pod jettisoned away.
Her shoulders slumped. The level of anger she carried was exhausting, but it was all she had known for so long. She didn’t know what it’d feel like to be something else.
Moisture pricked at the corner of her eyes.
“Shit,” she said, dropping the weapon to wipe away tears. She refused to cry over that asshole.
She didn’t owe Ren anything. Her attraction might have been real, but the affection she felt? Fake. She faked it.
What did it matter? They were strangers, thrown together once four years ago and again by accident. He didn’t even care enough to remember her name.
The only person in the universe who gave a damn about her was Gemma, and she intended to find her sister.
Ren
The computer counted down to launch.
His fists pounded against the hatch. The rational part of his brain told him that the emergency pod was designed to withstand the extreme cold of deep space, the heat of atmospheric reentry, and high-impact collisions. Beating his hands against the hatch would do nothing once the launch sequence had been initiated.
His mate watched him from the other side of the translucent barrier. Her fingers wiggled in a departing gesture.
The clamps released, and the pod jolted. Engines revved for a burst of speed. The computer warned him to utilize the safety harness or he would suffer injury.
Emmarae’s image grew smaller and smaller as the pod sped away.
She bullied and bluffed him into the pod. Her threat to damage the ship and vent the ship’s atmosphere had been reckless enough for him to take seriously, but intriguing.
He had thought his mate a wounded, defeated creature. If not in body, then in spirit. Guilt at having added to her misery piled on top of his numerous regrets. He thought he needed to protect her, to shield her, to help her heal.
But this was not the action of a broken spirit.
She stole his ship.
Ren couldn’t stop grinning.
This wasamazing.
