It seems a shame to die without ever having kissed them.
Focus, I chastise myself, breathing deeply as Vrexen hands me the first of the tools.
Instead of allowing the thoughts of Cora to distract me, I channel them, using the need to save my Irisa as a motivation to block out everything else. I let it focus me, narrowing my thoughts down to the engine in front of me and letting the fear and worry recede.
It takes longer than I would like, the seconds ticking by so quickly that I can almost hear it in my head. Something is keeping the pieces from spinning, but what?
I peer between the blades of the engine fan, trying to look for what’s happened.
Is it faulty wiring? A blockage? Something else entirely?
At last, as Zhori angles the light, I see it. A component has come loose and fallen between the jammed pieces and the casing that holds the rest of the engine apparatus. It looks as if it broke, and when it fell, it jammed the entire thing.
I let out a breath. At least I know what’s wrong. Now I just have to fix it.
“Hold the light steady,” I tell Zhori. “I need to reach in there and dislodge the component that’s broken off. I’ve got to get it out of there quickly, both before this whole place blows, and before the engine starts up again if I can pry it loose.”
I can see steam starting to curl from the engine casing—our time could already be up. The whole thing could blow at any moment, taking me and everyone close to it out, even if those in the other parts of the ship are left alive.
The thought of Cora, drifting alone and frightened in space, is enough to spur me onward.
Reaching down, deep into the fan unit, I try to grab the broken component. My fingertips brush against it, and I grit my teeth. If I knock it farther down by accident, it’ll be impossible to get out. We’ll have no chance of averting disaster.
Taking a deep, slow breath, focusing my mind on moving slowly and cautiously, with purpose, I let my fingers slide over the component, curling around it. When I feel certain that I have a good grip, I begin to slide it upward, feeling the resistance as I attempt to tug it loose from the spot where it got wedged.
“Krax,” I mutter, my voice tight.
There’s something holding the piece in place, but I have to get it out quickly. We’re nearly out of time.
I clench the small component firmly and close my eyes. Sending up a prayer to all the Kalixian gods and any others that might exist, I yank upward, hard.
The piece comes loose. I feel it dislodge, sliding free, and I let out a grunt of victory.
But my relief comes a moment too soon.
The engine starts back up almost immediately, too quickly for me to pull my arm all the way free. The force of the spinning parts sucks my hand into the engine.
For the brief flash of an instant, I feel it crushing my hand, the component still clasped in my fingers. My whole body is jerked forward by the force of the pressure on my arm, and a shock of horror runs through me as I realize what’s happening.
And then the pain blinds me.
Hot, searing agony floods my veins, too great for me to withstand.
The world around me goes black.
7
Cora
The shock of the alarm cutting through the air and breaking the moment between us, and even the sickening feeling of the ship lurching, sending us both toppling to the floor, was nothing compared to the shock of what I felt when Druxik pulled away from me.
For a second, there was a hollow emptiness in me, an ache for him to be close to me again, like a physical need.
I could see the regret in his eyes when he let go of me to turn and run down the hall toward the engine room of the ship. I felt a dull sort of terror as I watched him go—something had clearly gone very wrong. I had no idea what it was or how bad it was, but at the same time, I felt oddly confident that Druxik could fix it. That he could solve the problem, whatever it was. After all, he’s the best pilot on Kalix. He knows this ship as intimately as a lover.
Lover.
The thought sends a thrill of desire through me as I hurry toward my own cabin, the alarm still shrieking in my ears, my body swaying with every lurch of the ship.
What would have happened if that alarm hadn’t gone off? I would have kissed him. I’m sure of it. And I’m certain he would’ve kissed me back. Would it have gone farther? Would I have let it? Would he have picked me up and carried me off to his quarters or mine, or would he have taken me in the hallway, his arousal and my willingness too strong to be denied?
The thought of him fucking me right there in the open like that, unable to tame his desire for me, makes my core clench. It’s an image so wanton, so completely beyond anything I’ve even dared to fantasize about, that it makes me weak in the knees in a way that has nothing to do with the rolling of the ship.
The second I’m in my quarters, I slam the door shut, trying to breathe as I lean against the wall to steady myself. I’ve always had a tendency to get motion sick. I hate flying in planes, and I’ve studiously avoided roller coasters for all my life. Spaceships have rarely bothered me—that’s a thought I never imagined having—because they often fly so smoothly that there’s little sense of motion at all.
But now, this ship has turned into the worst combination of airplane turbulence and a roller-coaster, and I’m on the verge of throwing up. My stomach is churning, acid burning the back of my throat.
I lean against the wall for what feels like forever, my eyes tightly closed as I focus on long, regular breaths.
And then, suddenly, the alarm stops.
The ship rights itself, the shaking and lurching stopping all at once. I sink to the floor with my back still against the wall, my knees suddenly weak for a completely different reason.
I didn’t realize how frightened I was until the danger was past. A cold sweat has broken out all over my skin, and although I still don’t know what caused the alarm, I have a feeling that I just came very close to death. It’s not a good feeling. And we haven’t even made it to Nierra yet.
Beyond that, my mind is spinning. I’m reeling from what Druxik said in the hallway, my emotions a complicated tangle. Although I’ve seen half a dozen other women find their mates, having it happen to me was entirely unexpected.
It’s not possible, my mind insists.
I didn’t come on this mission to find a mate. It was never my intention or my expectation.
I asked to join this mission because I wanted to help, to ease some of the fear that the captured women on Nierra will undoubtedly be feeling. I wanted to do something like Lucy did, something to contribute, to make a difference for all the humans like us who have been abducted. We were lucky enough to be rescued before the Orkun could violate us, and now I can help other women who were stolen.
Although it was a bit intimidating to join a rescue mission with a bunch of hardened alien warriors, I felt comfortable around them because I knew there was no possibility that I could ever be chosen.
I thought the bond would recognize that I can’t be a good mate, that I’m not fit for it.
That’s why I let myself fantasize about Druxik a little. It seemed innocent, something so impossible that it was safe to dream about it. I never in my wildest dreams thought that it would actually happen.
Would you want him, if it were possible?
That would make all of this easier, if I didn’t want Druxik.