That’s her answer, then.
My food has turned to a lump of rock in my stomach, and I push myself away from her door. I drag my feet back to the bridge, where I busy myself with the ship, trying not to think of all the things Ishouldhave said to her, instead of the stupid things I did.
CHAPTERSEVEN
IGID
* * *
And how can I prove to you I’m different if you don’t ever give me a chance?
For the last two rotations, I’ve been thinking of what Brox said to me.
Telling myself I don’t care if he’s different. That I don’t want, or need, a male in my life. Then realizing I never truly noticed there was something missing until Brox showed up to fill it with his presence.
A strange anxiousness has settled into my belly, and with each rotation it’s getting worse. It’s affecting my sleep now. Either keeping me from sleeping at all or giving me strange dreams. Dreams that leave me hot and achy and that are always centered on Brox.
True to his word, Brox has been leaving me alone. When we pass each other, he’s cordial but otherwise doesn’t stop me or try to talk to me. On the bridge, he is completely serious, and our only conversations are focused on our mission.
Still, I’ve kept myself cooped up in my room, staying away from him as much as possible. Which is where I am when my comm goes off.
When I see it’s Brox, I almost don’t answer it. Except my stomach does that little flip it’s taken to doing every time I see or think of him. So, I go against my better judgment and tap on the screen.
I open my mouth, but Brox is already speaking, “We’re approaching the neutral zone,” without his usual cocksure flare, innuendo, or even a hint of snark. My blood turns cold. All teasing and fighting between us aside, this is what we’ve come here to do, and lives are at stake.
“I’m on my way.” After snapping off the comm, I shove it back into my pocket and hurry from my room.
When I make my way into the bridge, Brox looks back at me over his shoulder and gives me a sharp nod before turning back to his console. On the screen before us is an image of the extensive asteroid field we have to somehow maneuver our way through. I’ve been through debris and asteroid fields before, but never one quite as thick as this.
“I’m going to comm Treto so he can help us navigate the field,” he says as his hands fly across the controls.
Settling into Treto’s spot as navigator, I pull up the plans we’ve already programmed. I’m running it by the computer, letting it map out the best path through, when I hear a familiar chuckle.
“Brox, you’ve made good time.” Treto’s voice fills the room, and I spin my chair around, happy to see his familiar face on the screen. “Igid, I’m glad to see you haven’t killed the pup yet.”
“It’s come close.” I flash a toothy grin that has him laughing and Brox shooting a disappointed look at me from over his shoulder.
“You’re all worse than kids.” A hand comes out to thump the back of Treto’s head just before Bela steps into view. Her dark eyes narrow on me for a moment before softening when she turns her attention on Brox. “You accuse Brox of being a pup, but you and Treto are acting like bullies.”
I haven’t known Treto’s mate for long, but I’ve come to expect her to say exactly what is on her mind. Something I respect her for, and as such, I can’t help lowering my eyes and feeling shameful.
Treto’s arms snake around her waist, and he pulls her into his lap before nuzzling the side of her neck. “We only mean it as friendly teasing, Sorsa.”
He’s correct, but her words have left a sting. Making me consider that I’m being exactly what I’ve accused him of.
“All right, time to work. Do you have the nav chart?” Treto asks.
It’s so strange hearing Treto talk so much. His species was mostly telepathic, and before he met Bela—his fatedsors—he only spoke if there was something that needed saying. Now he’s downright chatty. I’m not sure if I’ll ever get used to it, but it’s pleasant to hear just the same.
“I’m sending it to you now.” With a swipe of my fingers, I send the chart to the main screen so we can all see it.
Leaning forward, Treto scans the chart before nodding. “Are you ready, Brox?”
“As ready as anyone can be.”
“Then let's go. I’ll guide you the best I can from memory. The rest will be up to you.”
With a swipe of his hand, the screens minimize. Brox brings the asteroid field forward on the view screen and transposes the computer’s path over top. Then we’re heading into the thick of it. I follow along with the chart, but Brox maneuvers theShadewith a confidence that many seasoned pilots don’t have. Along with the skill to match.
