Mistake. The moment our gazes met, something electric sparked between us. His red eyes held mine, and I saw my own awareness reflected there.
"That depends on what you want," he said quietly.
The question hung between us, loaded with implications that made my throat dry. During the crisis, during the repairs, there had been no time for want. Only survival, only the work that needed doing. Now, in the quiet of hyperspace with nothing but time ahead of us, the awareness I'd been pushing down came rushing back.
He smiled then,a real expression that transformed his face from coldly handsome to something warmer. "Good. Because I have a feeling we're going to need each other for what's coming."
The moment of connection hung in the air, a quiet promise of a future. But as the adrenaline of the escape finally faded, it left a tremor in its wake. My hands, which had been so steady on the controls, began to shake.
A shadow fell over me as Talon stood. His hand settled on my shoulder, a steadying, solid anchor.
"Tamsin," he asked, his voice a rough murmur. "Are you afraid of me?"
I should have flinched. Should have pulled away. But I was frozen, trapped between the instinct to fight and a deeper, traitorous stillness. The simple weight of his palm, the warmth that seeped through my jumpsuit, sent a jolt through my system that had nothing to do with fear. Then his thumb moved, a slow,deliberate stroke against the side of my neck. The gesture was no longer comforting. It was a question. A claim.
I looked up, and he must have seen it all in my eyes—the exhaustion, the terror, and the raw, undeniable awareness that sparked between us. He saw that I wasn't pulling away. The careful control in his expression fractured. The warrior who just fought for my life was gone, replaced by the predator I’d first met.
His hand tightened, not with anger, but with a possessive strength that stole the air from my lungs. In one fluid motion, he pulled me from the chair and pinned me against the main viewscreen, the swirl of stars at my back and his hands braced on either side of my head.
I expected a threat. Instead, he leaned closer, and I saw something in his expression that made my heart stutter. Not anger. Not calculation. Hunger.
"You think you know what this is," he said, his voice a rough murmur against my skin. "You think you understand the game we're playing."
"I understand perfectly." The words came out breathier than I intended. "You're a predator. I'm prey. It's simple."
His lips curved in a way that wasn't quite a smile. "Simple."
Then his mouth was on my throat.
His lips traced my pulse, and a rush of heat bloomed beneath my skin. The alien intimacy of it was a current I’d never felt, so potent it stole the air from my lungs. I felt the slow, deliberate path of his tongue against my skin, and the world tilted sideways.
My mind screamed no, but my body betrayed me completely. Every muscle went liquid, melting against him as waves of pleasure crashed through me with terrifying intensity. A soft moan spilled from my lips, an involuntary surrender I hated myself for.
When he pulled back, I saw something in his eyes I'd never seen before—uncertainty. As if he hadn't expected this any more than I had. This wasn't calculated. And that made it so much worse.
The reality of it crashed over me like ice water.
What was I doing? This was exactly how they broke you—made you feel safe, made you trust, made you want. Then they used that want to destroy you.
I jerked back, my hand flying to my throat where his touch still burned like phantom heat. "No."
He froze, his hand still extended toward me, confusion flickering across his features. "Tamsin?—"
"No." The word came out sharper this time, edged with the fury I was directing as much at myself as at him. "I won't be another conquest. Another asset you collect along the way."
"That's not what this is?—"
"Isn't it?" I backed away until the console pressed against my spine. "You're a predator, remember? It's what you do. You find weaknesses and exploit them."
Something that might have been hurt flickered in his eyes. "Is that what you think? That this is manipulation?"
"I think you're very good at making people feel safe before you devour them." My voice shook, but I forced the words out anyway. "And I think I almost let you."
He stared at me for a long moment, and I saw the careful mask slide back into place. The gentle man who'd guided me through repairs disappeared, replaced by the cold efficiency I'd first encountered.
"Perhaps you're right," he said quietly. "Perhaps it would be better to keep things... professional."
He turned and walked away, leaving me alone with the hum of the ship's systems and the bitter taste of my own cowardice.
