by Presley Hall
“What do you like most about it?” she asks softly. “Being a pilot?”
“Freedom,” I say simply. “There’s a whole universe out there, untold worlds to see, and it can be done in a spaceship. In battle on the ground, it’s your strength and courage versus your opponent’s, and that is a challenge in and of itself. But in a ship, it’s your quick thinking, your dexterity, and your wit that win the day. I piloted ships in many fights against the Orkun, and now that they’ve been laid low, I want to…”
“What?” Cora prompts, her gaze open and curious. “What do you want to do?”
“Explore,” I tell her, not even stopping to think about it. She’s so easy to talk to that things I’ve rarely shared with anyone else slip from my mouth easily. “I want to visit new planets, go to places I haven’t seen yet. Once we’re sure that the Orkun are truly no longer a threat to us, I’d love to fly anywhere I please. I’d fly for the sheer pleasure of it, and to discover things I haven’t seen yet.”
I stop then, biting back any further words. I feel exposed, almost vulnerable, as if I’ve laid a part of myself bare to her. I don’t recall ever having told anyone that. But why would I have? There was no place for dreams once the Orkun attacked our planet. There was only the promise of a never-ending war, constantly beating back the tide in order to have some vengeance.
But it’s different now. Tycran and Lucy didn’t just beat back that tide, they turned it. We’ve set the Orkun back on their heels, and they’re no longer a threat to us. Now we can look to the future in a way that never felt possible before.
With Cora sitting here, I find myself wishing that she could be a part of my future, and fresh resentment over my accident wells up in me all over again. How different things might have been, if not for that one moment in time.
Cora glances at the door, then back at me.
“It’s getting late. I should probably go,” she says regretfully. She bites her lip, and I can see that she doesn’t want to. “Keep practicing picking things up, okay? I know it’s difficult, but I’ll come back and we can work at it more.” She stands up, then hesitates. “And think about what you told me, Druxik—about how you love piloting because it requires your mind to be sharp. This is just a different use of that same discipline. It’s a battle… but I know it’s one you can win.”
She smiles softly at me as she speaks the final words, and I lean forward without realizing it. Krax, I want her to stay. It seems like the time we’ve spent together has flown by, as if she only just got here.
“When can we try again?” I ask, and immediately wonder if I’ve pushed too far. I shouldn’t be angling for more time with her. It’ll only hurt in the end. But I can’t seem to help myself. If I can’t have her as my mate, I at least want her friendship.
But Cora doesn’t seem perturbed by it. “What about tomorrow?” she asks with a smile. “Same time?”
“Yes,” I agree readily. “Tomorrow.”
“All right.” She gives me a shy wave as she turns toward the door. “I’ll see you then.”
I watch her go, my gaze fixed on the door even after it closes behind her. And although I know it’s hopeless, I feel as if a piece of my heart goes with her when she leaves.
11
Cora
Over the next few days, I meet with Druxik every afternoon to help him work on adjusting to his new arm.
The work we’re doing is an odd sort of blend of physical therapy and regular therapy—neither of which I would be qualified for back on Earth. But there’s no one else on board the ship who can help, except maybe Osynth. And although there’s a small voice in my head that tells me I’m playing with fire by getting closer to Druxik, I can’t help myself.
I know I can do some good for him, and I want what I studied back on Earth to be useful in some way. That’s why I came on this mission in the first place, and if my knowledge of psychology can be used to help Druxik as well as the abducted women, so much the better.
But the time I spend with him is more than just professional, and I know it. It’s the highlight of my day every time, and not just because the rest of my time on the ship is relatively boring as we wait to arrive on Nierra.
Druxik is witty and smart, charming and easy to talk to, and I find myself waking up every morning looking forward to seeing him. I know, deep inside myself, that it’s only strengthening the attachment I feel to him. It’s bringing us closer together, and it could very well hurt me in the end. But I tell myself that I’m only making a friend. After all, why do all of my friends have to be women? Can’t I simply be friends with one of the warriors? Does it always have to be mating or nothing else?
I’m not falling for him. I’m just becoming closer friends with him.
That’s what I tell myself every evening that we spend together, as Druxik struggles with learning to use his new arm and hand.
I can tell how difficult it is for him—that it’s not only the loss of the physical arm itself that he’s struggling with, but the loss of his flying ability. The more we talk about his time as a pilot, the more I see how deeply his identity is rooted in it.
God, I can relate to that.
Although I never had the opportunity to have children, I always believed I would. I felt like less of a woman when that possibility was taken away—less of a person, missing a vital part of myself. It took a long time to come to terms with the loss.
More than once, I almost tell Druxik about my cancer and surgery, but I stop myself every time. I don’t want to make his recovery about me. During my therapy sessions, my counselor rarely spoke about her own experiences, and so I try to do the same.
Of course, I’m not really a therapist, but I try to act professional anyway, to let our time together be about Druxik and his healing process.
Maybe one day, if we get back to Kalix and we’re still friends, when he’s fully healed, I’ll tell him, I think. But not yet. I don’t want to distract him with my own sob story.
Each day, he gets a tiny bit better. The progress is slow, but I have confidence in him, and I tell him so over and over again. He smiles at me every time, and I realize each time that my feelings for him are growing. I know it’s foolish, but I can’t help it. I tell myself that as long as it stays platonic, it won’t matter. That I can love him as a friend, without needing romance in return.
This is a far cry from when I used to walk past the captain’s deck before the accident, trying to catch a glimpse of him. My feelings are more intense than that now, multiplied by a hundred, because I’m not just glimpsing him from afar anymore. I’m talking to Druxik every day, getting to know him.
He’s a part of my life now, for better or for worse.
I know I need to get a grip on my emotions, but it’s harder every day. It feels like some kind of cosmic joke sometimes, because Druxik is all the things I would have wished for in a partner—and I can’t have him.
About a week after Druxik’s accident, a planning meeting for the mission is called, interrupting our usual evening session. Everyone gathers in the common area of the ship, and I’m gratified to see that not one Kalixian looks at me as if I’m out of place. I’ve been entirely accepted among the crew, and it feels good. No one questions whether I deserve to be in the room.
“We still have a way to go before we reach Nierra, but we should discuss how we’ll approach executing our mission once we land.”
Druxik addresses the room once everyone is settled, and I’m struck by his commanding aura. I’m always impressed by what a natural leader he is. He lets me see a more vulnerable side of him during our sessions, allowing me to see his doubt and frustration, but none of that is evident now.
“We need to begin to plot out how we’ll go about freeing the women,” he continues. “We won’t be able to solidify a firm plan until we reach the planet, but we can consider the best way to go about it.”
The warriors all begin to discuss different tactics they’ve used in various battles and military operatio
ns. I listen closely, trying to absorb as much as I can even though I don’t have a lot of tactical suggestions to offer.
“The planet itself is full of smugglers, traders, and criminals, and the weather is harsh,” Zhori says as the discussion continues. “It’s cold there most of the year, an unforgiving climate. The slave auctions move fast for that reason—the smugglers want to offload their product, collect their pay, and leave the planet. It’s a favored region for this kind of market because the cold keeps the ‘product’ weak and less able to escape. They’d never survive in the wilderness outside the main city.”
“Have you seen one of these auctions before?” Druxik asks.
“Once,” Zhori confirms, his expression hard.
“And when do you think would be the best time to attempt to free the women?”
“Before they go up on the auction block,” Zhori says firmly. “Afterward, the Terran women will be split up, taken away by whoever bought them. They won’t be sold as a lot, but separately. Before the auction, they’ll all be together, likely paraded up all at once and then bid on individually or in groups of two or three. So before that happens, we’ll have a better chance of rescuing the entire group.”
Druxik nods. “We’ll factor that into our planning then. Cora? Do you have any thoughts on how best to approach the Terrans?”
The sound of him saying my name sends a warm shiver down my spine, and it takes a second for me to jolt myself back to reality.
Be professional, Cora, I remind myself firmly. You’re here to do a job, not pine for the mission leader.
“They’ll be scared.” I clear my throat, stepping forward to speak. “They’ll be in shock, definitely mentally and possibly physically as well.” I pause, my skin growing cold as I remember my own abduction and the way it made me feel. “I wasn’t held by the Orkun long enough to be badly hurt by them, but I remember the fear. They made us strip, and they shocked Nadia with some kind of taser because she hesitated. They told us we were going to be ‘tribute brides’ for their warlords.”
My voice trembles a little, my heartbeat speeding up as I recall the horror and disgust I felt at the realization that they planned to keep us as sex slaves.
“Since these women were taken by the Orkun and then sold, they’ve been in captivity for longer than I was,” I continue, forcing myself to keep talking. “We don’t know what abuses they’ve undergone.”
I look up at Druxik as I speak and see his gaze fixed on me, his expression encouraging. The warmth in his eyes helps. Even though it happened a while ago, it’s still hard to relive the visceral memories of my abduction. I can feel my skin prickling, a light sheen of sweat forming on my palms.
“When I was taken, I had no hope of rescue, and neither will these women,” I tell the gathered warriors, glancing around at the group. “I doubt any of them thought aliens even existed before this, and they won’t know there are kind and honorable species out there. They’ll only have met aliens who want to use them—to sell them or breed them. You’re all imposing warriors. Remember that and try to be… gentle, if you can. You’re certainly better to look at than the Orkun,” I say with a small laugh, “but these women won’t trust anyone. So just keep that in mind.”
I try to inject some humor into my words, but it’s hard. My voice is still shaky, my heart beating too fast. I bite my lip, trying not to let tears well up.
Dammit, I thought I could do this.
I know it’s important for the warriors to understand what the women we’re going to rescue have been through, but reliving my own abduction is more painful than I expected it to be.
Druxik meets my eyes again, and he stiffens, his jaw tightening. I’m sure he’s noticed my distress.
“All right,” he says quickly. “I think that’s enough for now. We’ll continue making plans as we get closer to Nierra.”
Everyone begins to file out of the common room, but I stay rooted to the spot for a moment, trying to gather my emotions. Druxik walks toward me as the room empties, and to my surprise, he reaches out to touch my arm, his eyes soft.
“You’re very brave,” he says quietly.
It’s a small touch, just the brush of his fingers against my arm, but it seems to burn like fire against my skin, awakening all the nerves in my body. I can’t help but step closer to him, my heart suddenly beating hard in my chest for an entirely different reason.
He’s so tall, I think as I look up at him. So big.
He told me that he’s smaller than his brother was, and I suppose I’ve seen Kalixian warriors bigger and brawnier than Druxik. But he’s still massive, broad shouldered and muscular, like no human man I’ve ever seen. With my diminutive stature, I feel impossibly tiny next to him, and yet he never makes me feel small.
In fact, being around him makes me feel braver and more capable than ever. As if he sees who I truly am and encourages me to be that woman.
I feel myself sway toward him a little, stepping so near that he could wrap me in his arms if he wanted to. I look up at him, at those dark eyes flecked with gold, and wonder what they would look like shimmering above me, bright with desire.
As if he can’t help it either, his hand slides up my arm, drawing me closer. Our bodies are nearly touching, his gaze fixed on mine, and I can feel the tension simmering between us.
It feels a million times stronger than before, like a magnet pulling me to him…
But he said it was a mistake.
It isn’t the bond. And he would know, of course.
So why do I still feel as if I want him to wrap me in his arms and hold me there forever, protecting me and keeping me safe, and at the same time want him to devour my body entirely?
Before I can do something really stupid, Druxik clears his throat and steps back.
“You’re an exceptional woman,” he tells me with a gentle smile. “Strong and brave. This mission is lucky to have you. As the leader—I’m lucky to have you here.”
He holds my gaze for a second longer, then nods and turns away, following the others out of the room.
The breath leaves my lungs in a rush, and I grip the edge of a nearby table, trying to get my emotions under control. The fear and horror I felt at remembering my own abduction begins to fade as I replay Druxik’s words in my head.
I’ve never thought of myself as particularly strong or brave, just someone determined to survive. But I’m beginning to feel differently, to see myself the way Druxik does. And I know I’ll need to draw on that bravery soon.
I’m nervous about reaching Nierra. The mission will be dangerous and tricky to pull off. I’m afraid that I’ll fail somehow, that I won’t be able to calm the women or gain their trust, and that the rescue attempt will turn into chaos. But at the same time, I’m excited to get there, do my part in the rescue, and get this mission over with so that I can go back to Kalix.
Because my feelings for Druxik are beginning to be too much for me to handle.
And being trapped on a ship with a man for whom my feelings are raging out of control is, to put it mildly, sheer torture.
12
Druxik
As the days pass and we get closer than ever to Nierra, I work with fresh determination to master the finesse and control that I’ll need to have over my new arm and hand.
The ship has been under AI control for most of the voyage, and Zhori has done an admirable job of piloting when necessary. But in order to get to Nierra, we have to pass through an asteroid field, and we’ll need my piloting skills to get through it unscathed. I don’t have to be at my best, but I do have to be capable at the very least, and it needs to be me who pilots the ship in.
I know deep down that Zhori could probably manage it, but the idea of shirking my duties in that way is unbearable to me. As the captain, I should be the one guiding us through the danger. I can’t sit back and let someone else take that on.
So I put all my focus into trying to master the connection to this new part of my body.
Cora s
pends every afternoon in my quarters working with me, and it gets a little better each day. I can pick things up again, and as we move on to smaller, finer motor functions, I try to force myself past the frustration of it and believe as she does that I’m capable.
But it’s growing almost impossible to resist the pull toward her.
As she stands next to me, encouraging me to tie a series of knots with my new fingers, it’s more difficult to focus on the task than it is to actually complete it.
With every day that passes, I’m more certain that the mate bond between us is real. We haven’t consummated it—I remain firm in my feelings that I’m right to deny it, that I’m no longer worthy of her. But my denial doesn’t change the fact that it exists.
I’ve heard stories of the pain of denying a mate bond, and I believe them now. The bond is real and powerful, and forcing myself to ignore it is one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to do. It’s almost a physical pain, an ache in my chest so intense that sometimes it feels as if my heart is actually breaking.
I wonder if it will grow worse or lessen when we’re back on Kalix, and I can physically separate myself from her. Will the pain ease with distance? Or will it feel as if another part of me has been severed?
“Just keep thinking of the arm as an extension of yourself, as your arm, not a foreign thing attached to you,” Cora coaches gently as I grit my teeth with frustration.
As I listen to her soft, sweet voice, I can’t help but look over at her. Does she feel the strain too? If she does, she’s good at controlling her emotions, at hiding it. But then again, so am I.
I don’t think she realizes how much I struggle with mastering my desire for her—and that’s for the best. I don’t want to cause her distress.
