by Layla Nash
So instead she went back to what she knew best—engineering. She cleared her throat a few times and lowered her voice as she patted his shoulder so she could see the bare patch of skin. “Well. Let’s just wait until we know whether they fit or not. Do you…uh, have a preference for any of them?”
He still weighed the prototypes in his hands but didn’t look away from her. “Every one is perfect.”
Rowan laughed and shook her head. “That’s a lie. The colors are off and the shapes are different and—”
The chair wobbled as she shifted her weight and Mrax reached out to steady her with a hand on her waist. Rowan held her breath at the easy strength in his grip, squeezing her side, and her hands shook as she braced herself on his shoulder. The room felt suddenly small and close around her, the air heavy with some need and tension and... desire. Even when the chair stabilized and she wasn’t in danger of falling, Mrax kept his hand on her side. Rowan’s heart pounded faster with the soft friction of his palm against her thin shirt.
What if he tried to kiss her, like she’d thought he might do out by the attack ship? They were alone in the cabin, since Jess and Trazzak hadn’t reappeared and probably wouldn’t for some time. Rowan shivered. She hadn’t had any boyfriends, like she’d admitted to Jess, and she’d never had a man try to kiss her or even touch her like Mrax was. Not that Rowan had ever stood still long enough for them to try.
Rowan fumbled with the pliers and one of the scales, a lightweight alloy from the armor of an eighth-generation fighter carcass she found in the center of the boneyard. It might have been the ship that started the collection, it was so old. But it still used armor on the hull instead of relying only on early-stage shields. She concentrated on breathing and adjusted the scales that remained, trying to hook the prototype in so it would lay flat but still move with his muscles.
She handed him the other scales and the hammer, squinting at his shoulder, and Mrax took them silently. Maybe there was something to his breathing exercises, if that was what kept him so calm and grounded.
She adjusted the hook of the scale, settled it into the existing groove, and started to step back to eye her handiwork. And almost stepped right off the chair. Mrax turned quickly to grab her hips, pulling her close to his chest so she wouldn’t fall, and Rowan sucked in a breath as his arms went around her and her hands braced on his shoulders and she found herself staring down at his blazing eyes.
Everything else in the entire universe disappeared.
His arms tightened and squeezed her closer until her breasts crushed against the blazing heat of his scales. The pliers slipped from her fingers as they dug into his shoulders and she tried to ground herself in the moment. For once she didn’t need to keep moving, to race away, to get back to work. It was enough to stand there and look at him and feel the closeness of his body.
And that terrified her. He represented possibilities she’d never dreamed of. If that went away—if he went away—what would she do?
Mrax touched her cheek, brushing a few loose strands of hair back over her shoulder, and his head tilted as he studied her throat and jaw. Rowan held her breath as he leaned closer and inhaled deeply from the spot right behind her ear. Her eyes closed in anticipation and she shivered as his mouth pressed against her throat. He made a grumbly noise and his arms tightened still more around her. He kissed a long, slow line down her throat to her shoulder, then moved to her other side.
Warmth grew and spread from low in her stomach, and her fingers worked into his hair to try and keep a grip on reality. Sensation raced through her and threatened to knock her over despite Mrax’s close embrace. His scales shifted and moved against her, transferring the electricity between them.
After an agonizing wait, the anticipation almost pushing Rowan to the point of demanding more, Mrax’s lips drifted to hers. She tensed but didn’t withdraw. He waited and caressed her back, and in a fit of boldness, Rowan leaned into him and started to kiss him back.
His mouth curved in a smile and his hand cradled her head to bring her mouth back to his. Rowan closed her eyes as her lips parted and allowed him in, and Mrax made a hungry sound. The room spun around them. She lost all sense of time and place, drifting along as she clung to his shoulders and head. Clerk-Maxwell help her. If this was what it felt like just to kiss him, she couldn’t imagine anything more. It might destroy her.
Mrax retreated after a long moment, still gazing at her, and once more gently stroked her hair back. His voice vibrated through her as she clung to him. “Thank you for this gift.”
“What gift?” she asked, breathless, as her brain short-circuited and she couldn’t process a single thought.
His smile curved up and he brushed his lips against hers once more. “For this.” And then he drew her hand over his shoulder to coast over the half-fitted scale. “And this.”
Rowan couldn’t look away from the pools of mercury in his eyes. “Oh. You’re…uh, welcome.”
The smile grew, then he carefully stood back, still holding her waist. “Does it fit?”
For a moment her thoughts spiraled out of control and she searched for what he could possibly mean. Mrax smiled more and gestured at his shoulder to help her make the connection. Her cheeks heated and she searched for her pliers where they ended up on the floor, and tried to hop down so she could retrieve them. She overestimated her ability to stand, though, as her knees failed and she almost ended up in a heap.
Once again, Mrax scooped her up and then suddenly they were on the couch—and she was sprawled in his lap. Rowan stared at him and tried to process what the hell she was going to do.
Chapter 16
Mrax
He felt her heart pound against her ribs when he held her and she balanced on that damnable chair, and knew from the intensity of the unitary thumping that Rowan hovered on the verge of panic. She didn’t push him away and even leaned in to kiss him, which Mrax counted as a serious victory. And the scales... He’d nearly lost control when she offered up half a dozen different options. The thought that she not only thought about making the replacements but then spent part of her day looking for different metals and hammered them into the right shape... Mrax had never been in love before, even before an old girlfriend broke his heart, but when he looked at Rowan’s expression as she offered the scales up to him, he might have fallen completely under her spell.
Suddenly all the stupid and irrational shit the mated Xaravians did made perfect sense. He would have done anything—anything—to make Rowan smile.
Which shook him to his core.
Particularly as they sat on the couch after her stumble and Mrax could feel once more how delicate and vulnerable she seemed in his arms. She was not as small in stature and build as some of the other Earthers, though she was all muscle and energy, but without any defense for her delicate skin and fragile neck and those bird-like bones...
It was already irritating that she’d been burned in the sun, even having a regenerator that would fix the burn in short order, and he could not imagine the rage that would possess him if something else hurt her. How would he survive if she were truly injured?
Mrax held her closer at the thought; no wonder Trazzak and Vaant and Vrix and Frrar minced after their females, trying to keep them from throwing themselves into danger. And the engineer was the most haphazard of them all.
She squeaked and he eased his hold on her, leaning forward to inhale from her hair once more. He didn’t mind the dirt and grease and other debris on her, since underneath it all lurked her natural scent.
Rowan shifted in his arms, her ass and hips soft and giving against him, and Mrax bit back a groan and the urge to press her down against his hardening cock. Instead, he kissed behind her ear and murmured, “I would like to explore this further, but I believe Trazzak is on his way back.”
She sucked in a breath and launched out of his arms, and managed to be all the way across the room next to her tools in the few seconds it took for the cabin door to open and Trazzak
and Jess to stumble in. Mrax only arched his eyebrow at them and waited for some kind of excuse or story, but Trazzak shrugged and threw himself onto the other corner of the couch.
Jess yawned and retrieved a meal from the pile of dehydrated food, checking Rowan’s skin with a sympathetic murmur, and took up the armchair in the corner. “Trazzak and I were talking—”
Rowan snorted loudly from her table but didn’t look up from the tweaking and twisting she did on the scale prototypes. Jess shot her a dirty look, though Trazzak grinned and Mrax swallowed a laugh. Jess’s eyes narrowed before she went on. “We heard from the Galaxos that the rebels think the weapons Faros stole and handed over were actually designed by the corporation here on Dablon. They asked if we could investigate and see whether the Dablonians will say anything that confirms the sale.”
Mrax drummed his fingers on the arm of the couch, irritation at his time with Rowan being interrupted clouding his mind. “That wasn’t part of the mission. We’re down here to put together some ships and then get out of here. Besides, the Dablonians have already seen you two, and maybe me as well. We were all here last time.”
“But they haven’t seen Rowan,” Jess said.
Mrax bristled. “No.”
Jess crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back. “I’m sorry, since when are you captain of this mission?”
He started to scowl. “It’s too dangerous for her to go in there alone.”
“We don’t think they saw you,” Trazzak said. “You can both go.”
“Except the last time an Earther and a Xaravian walked into their building, all hell broke loose shortly afterward. Do you really think they won’t make the connection?’
“This time you’ll have money.” Jess tilted her head at the door and beyond that to where the ship waited. “We brought some of my bounty, so you can go in with the purchasing power we didn’t have last time. They might show you more.”
Mrax shook his head. “No. It’s too dangerous.”
“We can do it,” Rowan said absently. Her words almost disappeared in the tinny hammering against the table and metal. “Easy.”
Jess grinned in victory at Mrax. He clenched his jaw. Maybe Trazzak wouldn’t mind if Mrax growled at her a little, maybe scaring her into not signing Rowan up for suicidal missions.
From the look of Trazzak’s scales, the warrior didn’t even like Mrax talking to her in his current tone. So he kept his temper in check. “She also doesn’t mind climbing a pile of rusty metal to hang from a broken-down fighter’s wing. Let’s just assume Rowan’s risk assessment is somewhat more... liberal than the rest of us. She’s not in a position to evaluate whether this will—”
“I can evaluate just fine.” Rowan frowned down at the scales, then held one up to the light. “Once I fix the fighter, we can fly it over and ask about what they can add to improve it. Seems like a legitimate request. With enough money, we can actually get some weapons and figure out whatever else they’ve got going on.”
Mrax concentrated on his breathing exercises so he wouldn’t shout at her not to volunteer for stupid missions. He could talk to her later that night, after Trazzak and Jess went off to do what they did, and convince her it wasn’t worth the risk. The rebels could send other species to check on the Dablonians after they got back to the Galaxos. After all, they were already doing the rebels a favor by rummaging through the boneyard and reconstructing useful ships and surface runners. He clenched his jaw and didn’t react as Jess cheerfully supported the idea and started to build up a background for their fake characters to use with the Dablonians.
He tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling and counted each second until they could go back out to the boneyard and he could talk to Rowan about her crazy plan. And about those breathing exercises—maybe helping to calm her mind would redirect her from taking so many risks. Or maybe they could find a shady, secluded spot and he could explore more of what made her press against him and her eyes glaze over with lust.
Chapter 17
Rowan
Rowan managed to escape the cabin just after the second sun set and the atmosphere began to cool. The memory of Mrax’s kiss drove her back to the old fighter so she could lose herself in the technical engineering problem instead of the challenge of understanding other people’s motivations and goals. It didn’t help that Mrax followed her after a slight delay, and she braced herself for another lecture about staying out of danger.
So she went on the offensive. She needed to keep control of the conversation and any activities that happened. Maybe that way she could distract him from what happened earlier in the cabin. Rowan gave him tasks, pointing the burly Xaravian at some of the armor twisted and damaged nearby, and concentrated on creating a fighter that would need improvements from the Dablonian weapons developer.
And to her absolute, unbelievable surprise—he listened. He obeyed. He did what she asked without complaint or argument.
If a kiss was what it took to make the Xaravian behave, then she needed to kiss him more often.
The thought made her hands shake and she nearly dropped the laser tools she used to repair a damaged part of the hull. Imagine. Maybe that was why the rest of the Earther crew decided to make out with the Xaravians—it was the only way to get the men to behave. She snorted to herself and shook her head in the waning light.
“We have approximately one hour of light left,” Mrax said, offering her another sheet of armor. He held it patiently as Rowan dealt with her tools and hooked the laser drill into her belt. The Xaravian cleared his throat. “And your skin is getting redder. We will return to the cabin in half an hour.”
Her eyebrow rose and some of her irritation returned. “There’s more than half an hour’s work left, and if we’re going to get with that developer to buy weapons, then...”
Mrax shook his head and hefted the metal higher so she could secure it over the damaged armor. “That is a terrible idea. And if we were to approach the company—which we will not—then it would take at least a few more days to plan and prepare the fighter for a reasonable story.”
Rowan frowned as she studied him. “Why isn’t it a good idea? We’ll be able to see what they’re up to, maybe buy some kickass weapons, and upgrade a fighter, all at once. What’s the problem?”
His jaw clenched just as much as his fists did, and she held her breath. Sometimes the Xaravians didn’t like being questioned, and even though he’d been gentle with her earlier, their tempers were unpredictable. She braced for a storm of cursing.
Instead, Mrax took control of himself and said very calmly, “Because it will put you in danger.”
“And?” Rowan waited for the real problem.
He stared at her like she’d lost her mind. “You are... fragile. You should not be put in danger. You don’t even have armor or a shell or anything to protect you.”
Rowan laughed at the absurdity of it. “Okay. That’s the worst reason in the world.”
“Why?” Mrax jumped onto a nearby pile of metal and helped hold the armor in place while she sealed it to the hull.
She blinked, then shook her head. “Because there will always be risk. You can’t get rid of it completely. And if you let that stop you, you’ll never get done what you need to get done.”
Mrax didn’t quite look at her. “But—on occasion—what you need to get done should not be done at the cost of your life or safety.”
Rowan muttered under her breath, “One person’s life doesn’t matter if it’s for the betterment of the family. That’s just life.”
He didn’t speak for so long that Rowan finally dared a look to see whether he’d heard. He had, apparently, because he looked at her with just a hint of sadness around his eyes. She blinked. Her father said that often enough, that her responsibility was to help the family and sacrifice everything for the greater good. That was everyone’s role—what mattered was the survival of the clan. Not one individual’s goals and aspirations.
Which was partly why they did
n’t speak to her anymore, since she’d run off to the Fleet for her own selfish reasons.
Mrax reached out slowly—slowly enough she could have pulled away—and gently gripped her shoulder. “One person’s life does matter, regardless of what a group wants or expects. Your life matters, Rowan MacLeod.”
Her throat burned but she forced a smile and turned back to her work. “Right. Sure.”
“Rowan,” he said quietly, and caught her other shoulder so she had to face him. The doctor searched her face for something, and the concern in his eyes and the gentle way he handled her sparked a burn in her sinuses and a knot in her throat. “You are worth protecting. Cherishing. Do not think for a moment that I will let you endanger yourself for the success of a mission. This mission is not worth someone getting hurt or dying.”
She didn’t know if she believed him, particularly when the mission meant getting more fighter craft for the rebellion. The rebels were exactly like her father in that regard—the rebellion took precedence over the needs and wants of a single rebel. But that didn’t make it any easier to meet his gaze or deal with the soft pressure of his hands.
Rowan cleared her throat a few times and forced a beaming smile to try and deflect his attention. “Let’s just see what kind of weapons those guys are making, then we can figure out how much we’re willing to sacrifice, hm?”
His eyes narrowed, like he suspected she tried to placate him, but Mrax released her and returned his attention to the armor plate only half-secured. “We will see.”
It sounded like a threat, though Rowan couldn’t put her finger on why. So she focused on the armor and getting the fighter ready to fly over to the weapons developer. She couldn’t decide whether they needed to focus on getting the ships ready to go to the rebellion first, or getting the weapons and dealing with the fallout on Dablon. Based on how slow her progress would be if Mrax kept getting in her way and Jess and Trazzak spent most of their time having noisy sex, they’d end up on Dablon for months.
