Ellix restrained a wince. They’d been having such a nice moment…
“All…anomalies have an explanation,” he said. She was a closed-worlder, after all. Also, he might’ve been reminding himself. “A weak coupling. Mismatched voltages. Something. This is an old ship.”
“And old edifices have ghosts.” Abruptly she bit her lip, silencing herself. “I’m sorry. Ghosts aren’t a thing. I’m just…”
Freaking out. His attention wavered to the red bloom across her mouth.
He pivoted to face his crew. “Whatever the source of the power glitch, I want to secure life support.” His wounds ached. Not the ones he’d just taken, but the older ones. Those memories also burned, cold as deepest space.
“Not a power glitch,” Suvan grumbled. “And I’m maintaining all backups and redundancies at full capacity. If I find any ghosts down here, at least we still have internal comms so you’ll hear me screaming.”
Delphine pushed out of her seat. “Since steering is useless at the moment, I’ll assist Griiek and then check the subspace array. If worse comes to wormhole, we can get a signal out by starting another fire.”
Ellix dismissed his impertinent crew to their tasks.
Felicity grabbed his elbow. “Since I know you’re not going to waste time in the med bay, let me cover those burns.”
“It’s—”
“Nothing. So you told me. But it was my fault.”
“It wasn’t.”
“You protected me.”
Since he couldn’t deny that without lying, she seemed to think she’d won. As if she’d forgotten that she’d just recently almost floated away, she released herself from the harness and fetched the emergency kit from the supply station.
Even as he remotely supervised the crew’s efforts, all his Kufzasin senses were focused on Felicity circling behind him: the sweetness of her scent, her soft gulp as he eased the scorched tunic over his head, the gentleness of her fingers as she parted his fur to the skin beneath.
“Blistered but not bad,” she reported.
“So I told you.”
“This will help.” The cooling relief of ointment numbed his skin enough. In moments, it hardened to a healing patch.
And yet he didn’t pull away from her touch.
“Hopefully the hair will grow back.” She combed her fingers over his fur, straightening the strands she’d rearranged. It should’ve only taken one pass, and yet she kept petting him. The sensation was strange, and though his every muscle wanted to relax under that caress, he tensed with a nebulous need, to turn toward her and take her in his arms again, not so protective this time.
He was supposed to be captain of this ship. And yet he was lounging here like he had no other concerns.
He snatched the discarded tunic off the chair and tugged it over his head, ignoring the twinge deeper than the burns or the way he mussed the fur she’d so carefully combed. “We need to get back to work.”
She dipped her head. “Of course. I’ll check on guests.”
“Stay with them in the pod. It will be safer there.”
She stared up at him, her jaw tightening. “I will make sure things are under control with Ikaryo. But I’m part of the crew, and I want to help, not hide.”
He stiffened at the note of challenge in her voice. “Felicity—”
She let out a derisive snort, not quite a growl. “It’s not like anyone will be falling in love under these conditions.”
He stilled, considering. “Aye, it’s ridiculous to think about dating and mating during a power outage.”
They were both silent for another moment, and he wondered if she was now thinking what he was thinking about that kiss in the warm shadows, but this wasnotthe time.
“Never mind,” he muttered. “Come with me then.”
