“I did.” The words were heavy and Cyra barely go them out. “But I need to know if the cargo has been loaded.”
“Where is he?”
“Who?”
“Dez.” Veda gripped Cyra’s upper arm. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I saw him, okay? He kicked me out of the room and told me to leave. I have to check on the cargo. Get authorization to launch. There’s nothing else I can do here.” Fuck. Tears erupted again. “So let me do my job.” She wrenched out of Veda’s hold and ignored the gasp of her friend. In the far recesses of the cargo hold, she found the six crates of ore that were bound for Morgual. Close to Din’Gale. Where she could collect another load of produce and admit how she’d left Dez to die. Cyra slid down the wall and let all the tears flow. Tears she didn’t deserve. Dez had been the one to sacrifice. Not her.
Princess whined in her crate. All alone. She’d lost her pack and her trainer. Cyra dragged herself over to the kennel and opened the door to comfort the puppy.
“Captain?” Rhysa’s voice roused Cyra from where she’d fallen asleep against the cold metal floor of the cargo bay. Princess was curled up, asleep in her nest of blankets. Cyra’s muscles protested against her effort to stand. “We have authorization to launch.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Rhysa left without comment, thank goodness. Cyra stopped at her quarters and splashed her face with water. Dragged a comb through her hair and decided her uniform wasn’t too wrinkled.
Rhysa raisedThe Treasurewell above the flight lines in preparation to launch. Cyra let all her sadness and regret flow through her and placed her hands on the launch sensors.
Nothing happened.
The ship didn’t even quiver.
Bodi glanced over, concern in her gaze.
“Ready when you are, Captain.” Rhysa repeated.
Cyra channeled the memories of making love to Dez, but found only more sadness and even shame. She’d let him go. Left him injured and alone. She tried getting angry at herself, at Varik for planting the bomb, even at Dez for sending her away. All she got was failure. “I can’t do this. Set us down. Report mechanical issues.”
“Captain?” Veda’s voice broke through Cyra’s frustrated thoughts.
“What?” She yelled at Veda and instantly regretted it. Her friend had done nothing to earn her ire. “I’m sorry, Veda. What do you need?”
“It’s not what I need, Captain. It’s what you need. As your medical officer, I’m concerned about your mental state.”
“My mental state? What are you going to do? Lock me up and medicate me?”
“No. I’m going to issue you a prescription.”
“What? You never recommend drugs.”
“This isn’t for drugs. It’s a prescription for love and you need to fill it. Or I will lock you up and file a mental report.”
“Veda, that’s ridiculous. ‘A prescription for love’ or you lock me up. Get serious.”
“I’m completely serious. You need to go get Dez. Do whatever you have to do. Beg, cry, suck his cock. I don’t really care. You are being an insane idiot to try to leave the planet without him. Even the ship knows better and it’s inanimate. The only one who doesn’t acknowledge the truth is you. That, by definition, makes you insane.”
Cyra looked around the deck at the rest of her crew. They were all focused on her and no one breathed a word of dissent against Veda’s diagnosis. “I can’t deal with this right now. I’ll be in my tank.”
Cyra darted down the hallway certain that the crew was figuring out how to commit mutiny. But they hadn’t seen Dez’s glare, heard him when he’d banished her, felt the vacuum of space that existed between them. The water served to slow her heart and clear her head. It absorbed her tears without demanding answers or actions. She floated until she found peace. And with it came the answer. The only sane solution to an insane enigma.
She left the tank and went straight to her quarters. After several searches, she found the documents she required and completed them. With brief instructions to Veda as to what to do next, Cyra was free to return to Dez and beg his forgiveness, no matter how long it took.
Chapter42
Cyra openedthe door to Dez’s recovery room and dropped her bag in the only chair. In the few hours since she’d last been in his room, he’d gotten noticeably worse. His skin was peeling. Angry red wounds that should have been healing were opening up. His eyes were closed, and he’d made no acknowledgment that she had entered the room. He had never been unaware of her before. Something was terribly wrong. She softly walked to his bed and took his hand gently in hers. “Dez?”
He took a rasping deep breath. “What are you doing here?”
