“Get away from me,” she snaps, unbuckling her harness. “I’m only doing this so I can get back to Earth, so I never have to see your stupid, stupidly handsome face ever again.”
My mouth splits into a wide smile, pleasure tingling through me. I tilt my head to the side. “You find me good to look at.”
She stands abruptly, throwing her hands in the air in irritation. “Did you not hear the part where I hate you? For fuck’s sake, you don’t even think we are equals. What part of this do you think is going well for you, buddy?”
Every word is a hiss of a whisper, like she’s trying not to wake her companions, who sleep peacefully in their seats. I file away the knowledge she has a soft heart under all her tough talk. Surely I can exploit that later.
Leigh glares at me, as if daring me to try something else.
I want to step closer to her again, to inhale her intoxicating fragrance, but I am worried she will hurt herself by lashing out at me again.
“The part where I tell you that we are not equals because we are mates, Leigh,” I say her name on an exhale. “Because you will always, always be the one I look to first, the one that comes first… in all ways.”
Her green eyes go wide, then narrow again, suspicion thinning her lips. “Nice save. Like I believe anything you say. Especially since we’re faking it.”
She all but runs away, the cabin door automatically closing behind her as she flees me. Does she truly see me as a monster? Someone who would treat her as a servant?
Maybe I have not been as kind to her as I should have been. Perhaps I should have used a softer touch.
I have never been allowed the luxury of being soft, or kind.
Trying to keep my brothers alive has made me hard. Trying to keep myself alive has made me a liar. Trying to survive as a Roth who would be executed if the Overlord knew the truth has made me a coward.
“She’s been through a lot.”
I turn to find the yellow-haired female—Piper, I think her name is—yawning and blinking sleepily. “What?”
“She is upset. All the time. About what’s happened to us,” Piper continues, glancing around, bleary-eyed. “Leigh took it all really hard. We all did, but Leigh isn’t the kind to just forgive and forget. It was horrible, you know.” She rubs her arms, pausing. “Our shipmates being murdered, then the abduction, the breeding hormones, Sueva. Can you blame her? She’s confused and upset that she’s even working with you. A Roth.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I ask suspiciously.
The female sighs. “Because I am a hopeless optimist, I guess. And I need to believe that you all aren’t as bad as the other Roths. Just… go easy on her, okay?”
“Don’t touch me!” the brunette shrieks, then jerks awake.
“You’re okay, Billie,” Piper tells her soothingly. She turns her strange blue eyes back to me, then nods once. “Talk to her,” she says, surprising steel in her voice.
I return her nod. Turbulent emotions roil under the surface. It troubles me that these three women have every reason to despise us, and yet, they have chosen to join us on our quest to depose the Roth Overlord. To return the throne to the rightful king.
My throne.
My eyes narrow as I make my way to the small kitchen area on the ship. Lyko and Ayro have made quick work of the meal, and the heavily spiced sauces sit on the table as the two finish up the rest.
“Thank you for making the meal,” I tell them.
“She went to your rooms,” Lyko says, the pair stopping their easy conversation as I glance around the kitchen.
“She seemed angrier than a garwe roped to a wagon,” Ayro adds.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I say glibly.
It’s a lie. It hurts that she hates me so much.
It hurts that I don’t know how to fix the hate she’s felt for my people for so damned long. And the female only wants to get back to Earth, while I want to keep her as mine. My jaw clenches.
Mine, forever.
I make my feet move down the cramped hallway, the artificial lights flickering as the engine thrums, the secondary core spinning to life as the primary cools.
The door to my room hisses open, and when I see her, curled into a miserable ball on my bed, shame floods me.
Tears dampen her cheeks, and her shoulders shake slightly.
She sniffles, looking up, her expression darkening when she sees me.
“Go away,” she says thickly, then flops over, facing the wall.
My heart aches. Did I do this? Did I make her cry? The human warlords had to explain tears to me, and I know they mean she is unhappy. They said that they also cry when they are mad or too happy, but I doubt the latter.
“Why are you upset?” I ask, finally stepping into my room. Her tiny pack hangs from a hook on the closet door, and the room is spare, neat. Suddenly, I wish I had more things in here to make her comfortable. A soft blanket or, I don’t know, pillows. Anything to make it seem more like home.
I want her to be comfortable here.
I don’t want her to cry.
“Why?” she finally retorts, sitting up and glaring at me.
I halt my approach, my eyes wide. The fact that this female acts like she could take me on, single-handedly… I love it. I love that despite her tears, her softness, she is still so feisty.
She will make a great queen.
I want that. I want that so badly that for a long moment, I cannot think past the idea of it, my plan to make her love me, to make her accept this fake mating as the truth between us. It overrides all my thoughts.
“Well?” She bares her teeth, and they are white and even and perfect.
“I wanted to make sure you are alright. It is clear to me that you are not.”
“No, no, I’m not alright. I’m not even in the same fucking galaxy as alright.” Her chest shudders as she inhales, and she fixes her watery gaze on me.
I want to help you. Talk to me, I try to say. Instead I stand, and I stare, and I wait, afraid to scare her off.
Silence must be the correct option, and I breathe a sigh of relief as she scrubs a hand over her face instead of running away, or trying to bash my head in again. Not that she would be successful in anything other than earning a headache for her troubles.
“Your… your scientists,” she spits, hatred in her gaze, “pumped me full of drugs to make me ovulate. To make me fertile. So that they could breed me. And now, I can’t sleep. I can’t do anything, because my body isn’t. Even. Mine,” she grits out, her green eyes wild and dilated. “I just want some goddamn sleep. It’s enough to make me consider your asshole offer to help.”
It hits me then, what she means. To help. She means to pleasure her. She is crying because she is frustrated… sexually.
I lick my lips, heat rising all over my body, enough to make my ash swirls spin and smoke slightly.
“Leigh, if it is pleasure you want, then I live to serve.”
“I don’t want you to touch me,” she says, fresh tears springing to her eyes. “But nothing takes the edge off.” She gestures to a small paper stuck to her arm. “Even the birth control hormones don’t work. The doctor said they might work. I hoped,” she sucks in a shaky breath. “I hoped they would. But they don’t. And it’s just getting worse.” Her voice is frantic, and my own desire is thoroughly dampened by her distress.
“You don’t want me to touch you,” I say slowly. “And I do not need to.”
She hiccups a laugh, brushing tears from her light-colored lashes. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
I smile at her, and it has an edge to it. I want to touch her. I have never wanted something so badly in a very, very long time. But this will be almost as satisfying, and if it helps her feel better, if it helps her feel more comfortable with me?