Fic: Between Two Evils - Chapter 5
Jul. 16th, 2008 05:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
botiasThis chapter is actually not so naughty, though it's going a bad way: cliches, Alien Overlords, un-betaed!
Previous Chapters Here
Why did she let him tempt her to this rash behavior?
He was the only person she had ever struck, not out of the need to defend her life, but just because he was so infuriatingly presumptuous. She would somehow forget that he was well over twice her weight and terrifyingly quick with a temper to match—that he killed with every evidence of enjoyment.
As she gazed up at him she thought despairingly of the people she had left behind; her life was not the only one at stake.
He lunged forward; long fingers wrapped around her wrists. For a moment, his predator's eyes glared into hers from a distance of a few inches.
Allura made a surprised sound when she was tugged off of the bed. He carried her, blinking and confused, into the bathroom, dangling from his hand like a suit of clothes, and set her feet on the bench that ran along one side of the shower. He turned on the water with a stab of his finger and presented her with his back.
“FIX IT!!”
She stared down at her handiwork, speechless.
He glared at her over his shoulder. “I am taking away all of your hair pins until I feel your attitude has improved!”
She blinked at him uncomprehending.
Fix it.
Hair pins.
He wasn't going to harm her—at least, not this time. She waited, swaying a little, for the relief to come.
Temper surged through her instead, hot and vivid, waking her fully. Her hands curled into fists. “Well—what if I had cut it all off?!”
He turned around quickly enough to send water drops flying and leaned into her, teeth bared. For a long moment he seemed speechless with temper, then he said, “I would give beating you some very enjoyable consideration. And then I would take away all of your clothes until it grew back!”
She stared him down, even as she berated herself for her new lapse.
When she offered him no further heresies, he relaxed a little. Then he gave her a considering look.
“But, you would not do that.”
Allura was annoyed that she had suggested as much. “No, I would not.” Though he certainly deserved a wife that craven.
In spite of his confident tone, the admission seemed to mollify him. He studied her for a moment, looking at her with his beast's eyes—his father's eyes. She looked into that flat, gold stare. It was impossible to imagine those eyes expressing compassion or remorse. On the other hand, it was beginning to be difficult to feel menaced by him with his hair that way. He seemed quite calm now, if not particularly pleased.
He braced his hand on the wall and leaned a little closer to her.
“Allura... I will sooner cut it off myself than do you harm.”
Allura stared at him, not certain at first that she'd heard his quiet words correctly; he was damp, rumpled, and seemed to be serious. “You knocked me off of a bridge.”
He blinked at her, unconcerned. “And you were unharmed.”
Allura couldn't trust herself to reply to that; she stood in his shadow, silent and fuming.
“You are right to doubt my mercy,” he said, straightening away from her, his hard tone carrying easily over the rush of the water, “I have none. But you may have the greatest faith in my self-interest. You are as proud as I am. You would suffer a blow from me because you must, but you would not be cowed by it—and you would never forget it. I cannot abide sulking women.”
He tipped his head back under the spray, grimacing as he rubbed his hand over his hair. “Also, I find bruises very unattractive.”
Increasingly appalled by his matter-of-fact summation, Allura gasped at this last outrageous remark. “I don't sulk! I am not proud, and I have forgiven such things!” Lotor would mistake principles for pride.
He blinked his eyes open and looked at her. “But you have never forgotten them—have you.”
Frowning, Allura could not immediately deny it.
Lotor scowled. “Who struck you?”
Allura said nothing.
He surveyed her pensive expression for a moment, then he seemed to let the matter go. “You have shot at me, slapped me in front of my men, and destroyed very expensive military equipment that I had to answer for.” The memories clearly didn't please him. “If I have not struck you yet, you are probably safe enough.” His expression softened then, becoming more wry than annoyed. “I was fully aware of your temperament when I married you, Allura.”
She was kind and gentle; everyone said so.
He stopped fussing with his hair and braced his hands on the wall on either side of her. “You are the loveliest woman I have ever seen,” he said then, “but it's always been your spirit that I admired the most.”
Allura folded her arms across her chest. Wasn't she a lucky girl?
Some of her feelings must have been apparent in her face; his open, admiring look was replaced by a miffed one. He held her gaze for a long moment. Allura looked into his striking eyes, as compelling as those of any predator. She was beginning to feel nervous when he glanced aside as though he'd had a sudden realization. His amber eyes widened theatrically. “I could take away all of your clothes...”
Her hands flew to his shoulders, urging him to turn back around; she reached for the shower head to direct it onto his hair. "Let me help you with that," she said. He went obediently enough, but not before she saw his triumphant smirk.
Allura finished the left-hand braid and bound it to right-hand one at her nape as she walked forward, using a ribbon filched from her wardrobe; the style left most of her hair loose, but it would at least keep it out of her face. She walked out of the bedchamber in time to see him set the breakfast tray down on the low table himself. Allura had yet to see him admit anyone, servants or otherwise.
Instantly the animal appeared from where ever it hid and leaped onto him, clinging to the curve of his shoulder with its tiny claws and long tail. As she watched, Lotor began to fill his plate, offering the thing tidbits from his own hand. It ate them all with greedy enthusiasm whether the food was meat or vegetable, displaying pointed blue teeth.
Allura knelt next to the table and leaned forward, curious. It was beautiful and lively, but it seemed to have its master's self-interest. Once it had eaten its fill it always disappeared again. She didn't make any attempt to fill her own plate. Lotor had made it clear from the start that he got first choice—he and his pet.
She smiled wryly; she supposed that showed her where she rated in her new household.
“What's its name?” she asked.
Lotor's brows twitched a little in amusement; he looked at it then. “Food Taster,” he said.
Then he smiled. “The Third."
After breakfast, Allura had scarcely opened her book when she felt something land lightly in her lap. She slowly lowered her book onto her chest. It was the... it was Lotor's non-pet. Pleased, she watched it walk up her prone body, placing each foot carefully, head bobbing and nose working as it took her measure. Its small scaled feet reminded her of a bird or lizard. Now that she could see it closely she saw that the rest of it was densely covered with something just as much like feathers as fur.
Right now it was looking very sleek and held its long tail arched back over its body so that the curled tip almost brushed the top of its head. She slowly extended a hand. It sniffed at it, touching her fingers only with the long, almost invisibly fine whiskers around its short muzzle; all the while it watched her with eyes that were the same luminescent ruby color as its pelt.
Its round-eyed, very direct stare reminded her a bit of a predatory bird. It raised the longer, wider plumes on top of its head when she cautiously rubbed her finger there; it was very soft. Its gold-rimmed pupils were like nothing she had seen before, they contracted to a four-lobed shape like a tiny clover, becoming more round in appearance when they expanded.
Allura was so beguiled by it that it took her a moment to register that she was also being petted. She didn't think much of it until the animal butted the back of its head against her fingers and she tried some gentle scratching.
The fingers stroking her hair moved to scratch gently behind one of her ears.
Allura narrowed her eyes and reminded herself that she was not letting him provoke her today, at least not any more than she had already. She didn't look up from where her head rested on his thigh—his idea, not hers.
It wasn't just that she wanted to deny him the satisfaction; she was pretty certain of what she would see if she did look: Lotor would not be looking at her; he would be smirking but not enough to convict him.
After a little while he gave up and went back to stroking her hair.
Then he spoke, “So, are we going out or staying in?”
Allura did look up at that, quick enough to make her new friend start.
She had been right. Lotor was not looking at her. Then he set his electronic gizmo aside and looked down. As she looked up at him, he moved his hand and she felt his thumb rub along the line of her jaw. She swallowed nervously when his fingers curved around her throat and into her hair. His eyes narrowed with satisfaction.
What he was really asking was whether he would be 'enjoying' his wife here or in some other location.
The thought woke an anxious little quiver in her tummy. It wasn't enough to quell her surprise and pleasure at leaving here again, even if it was only temporarily.
This time when Allura jumped down from the ship, she was buried up to her shoulders rather than just her ankles. She cried out in surprise and yanked her arms free. They ended up high in the air; the fine powder gave almost no resistance. Laughing, she began to try and scoot her way on top of the snow, her arms sinking in to the shoulder again as she paddled and struggled her way forward. It was so loose that it was almost like trying to get on top of water.
She rolled onto her back, panting, having more or less succeeded, and stared up into an immense sky, a deeper blue than she'd ever seen it during the day. She lay there, content in that one moment; she could feel her heart working from surprise and exertion; the bite of the cold, dry air made her aware of every breath.
Finally, she turned her head. Lotor was standing on the dark wing of his craft, watching her with an odd expression. It looked as though he couldn't decide whether to fly off and leave his mad wife behind or to mock her first and then fly off.
Allura smiled a little. It didn't surprise her that he hadn't followed her down here. It was becoming clear that he disliked discomfort of even the mildest kind, the tickle of grass or the itch of sand. Nearly everything he kept around him was warm and extraordinarily pleasant to the touch. She wrinkled her nose a little—she supposed she must be no exception.
The wonder was that he'd brought her here at all; she'd had to forewarn him to get proper clothes.
She stretched out her arms and looked back up into the blue, her breath sending up white plumes of vapor; her successful escape pleased her, small and temporary though it was.
If Allura thought that an over-large coat and a bunch of fluff was going to keep him off of her, then she was sadly confused—if that wasn't already obvious from her choice of entertainments. Lotor looked down at his wife, a splash of gold and cream in a still ocean of blue shadows and glittering white. Her complacent expression when she'd looked up at him had been quite amusing.
He watched her sit up and work her little hands out of gray-white sleeves—it was just as well they were far too long; there had been no gloves that would fit her. She then picked up some of the snow and tried to mold it into something.
When that failed, she threw sparkling handfuls into the air and tipped her head back, letting it fall on her face and hair—and onto her small, pink tongue.
His bemusement vanished—replaced by vivid imaginings. Her tongue, hot and curious along his throat, between his fingers, curling against his sex—lust tightened his body and deepened his breath.
He leaned toward her—and pulled back with a jerk, dangerously close to tipping over the edge of the wing onto his face. Scowling, he pushed away the disturbing thoughts. He had never been the sort to lay around while someone played with him or licked at him however they liked—he wasn't a toy or a piece of candy.
He crossed his arms over his chest. Surely this strange fixation with her would loosen its hold now that she was finally his?
Below him, the source of his consternation lay back in the snow and began to wave her arms and legs about. Bizarre. He shook his head. He watched as Allura carefully stood up, wobbling as she sank deeper, and looked down and behind her, surveying the vaguely rumpled snow. She frowned and put her hands on her hips. The length of empty sleeve revealed by her action amused him.
He relaxed. Given a little time, Allura would become one more beautiful possession to him, albeit an especially useful and valued one. One day he would be able to settle her in one of the Imperial palaces with a sense of relief, and his quarters, his closets, his life—and his fantasies—would once more be his own.
In the meantime, the more often he indulged himself the sooner boredom would set in.
It was a win-win scenario if he'd ever heard one. He stepped forward off of the wing into the snow.
After witnessing Allura's landing he had been careful to present a larger surface area. He was still buried up to the chest, but much more shallowly. He leaned back in a partly reclining position. The snow was actually not uncomfortable; the military gear he was wearing kept him warm and dry—except for the tips of his ears. No doubt he would think of some way Allura could make it up to him. He crossed his legs at the ankle.
Allura must be aware of him even though she hadn't acknowledged him. He had pursued her all over this pathetic planet and no small number of its neighbors. Now things were different.
“Come here, Allura.”
Allura rose gracefully and came toward him, shushing and crunching through the snow. The going was awkward, but she showed no embarrassment. He recalled her earlier assertion that she was not proud.
She stopped, falling to her knees just above where his feet were buried. He smiled, and laced his gloved fingers together over his chest.
“Closer,” he said.
She hesitated and then continued forward on her arms, emerging from the snow as she crawled up his body. He pulled in a breath the first time he felt her weight, right above his knee, then his hip, his ribs. He blinked when her knee made a near miss, but she seemed oblivious. She stopped again, head bent a little, her hair spilling out of her hood and over her shoulder. She was so lovely, even in this bright, harsh light. In truth, it suited her. Nothing else showed her in her full glory.
He reached up a hand to touch her face.
She looked up then, and he smiled at the emotion he saw in her eyes. Perhaps Allura wasn't proud, but she did not like being told what to do—at least not by him.
Or perhaps she was annoyed that he hadn't stayed on the ship.
His smile widened. Too bad for her.
He leaned upward. He could feel her breath against his face now—much more pleasant than the flat of her hand. In the past, this was right about the time she'd let him have it, and not in a coy, flirtatious way either—but not anymore.
He leaned upward a little more. His gloved thumb rubbed over her cheek. He couldn't feel her skin, but its texture was writ fresh and deep on his memory.
To his surprise, the tension in her eased then; she closed her eyes surrendering to the inevitable, responding easily when he urged her a little closer.
Just before his lips touched hers, she spoke.
“I kiss mice,” she said.
Chapter 6
Previous Chapters Here
Chapter 5
Why did she let him tempt her to this rash behavior?
He was the only person she had ever struck, not out of the need to defend her life, but just because he was so infuriatingly presumptuous. She would somehow forget that he was well over twice her weight and terrifyingly quick with a temper to match—that he killed with every evidence of enjoyment.
As she gazed up at him she thought despairingly of the people she had left behind; her life was not the only one at stake.
He lunged forward; long fingers wrapped around her wrists. For a moment, his predator's eyes glared into hers from a distance of a few inches.
Allura made a surprised sound when she was tugged off of the bed. He carried her, blinking and confused, into the bathroom, dangling from his hand like a suit of clothes, and set her feet on the bench that ran along one side of the shower. He turned on the water with a stab of his finger and presented her with his back.
“FIX IT!!”
She stared down at her handiwork, speechless.
He glared at her over his shoulder. “I am taking away all of your hair pins until I feel your attitude has improved!”
She blinked at him uncomprehending.
Fix it.
Hair pins.
He wasn't going to harm her—at least, not this time. She waited, swaying a little, for the relief to come.
Temper surged through her instead, hot and vivid, waking her fully. Her hands curled into fists. “Well—what if I had cut it all off?!”
He turned around quickly enough to send water drops flying and leaned into her, teeth bared. For a long moment he seemed speechless with temper, then he said, “I would give beating you some very enjoyable consideration. And then I would take away all of your clothes until it grew back!”
She stared him down, even as she berated herself for her new lapse.
When she offered him no further heresies, he relaxed a little. Then he gave her a considering look.
“But, you would not do that.”
Allura was annoyed that she had suggested as much. “No, I would not.” Though he certainly deserved a wife that craven.
In spite of his confident tone, the admission seemed to mollify him. He studied her for a moment, looking at her with his beast's eyes—his father's eyes. She looked into that flat, gold stare. It was impossible to imagine those eyes expressing compassion or remorse. On the other hand, it was beginning to be difficult to feel menaced by him with his hair that way. He seemed quite calm now, if not particularly pleased.
He braced his hand on the wall and leaned a little closer to her.
“Allura... I will sooner cut it off myself than do you harm.”
Allura stared at him, not certain at first that she'd heard his quiet words correctly; he was damp, rumpled, and seemed to be serious. “You knocked me off of a bridge.”
He blinked at her, unconcerned. “And you were unharmed.”
Allura couldn't trust herself to reply to that; she stood in his shadow, silent and fuming.
“You are right to doubt my mercy,” he said, straightening away from her, his hard tone carrying easily over the rush of the water, “I have none. But you may have the greatest faith in my self-interest. You are as proud as I am. You would suffer a blow from me because you must, but you would not be cowed by it—and you would never forget it. I cannot abide sulking women.”
He tipped his head back under the spray, grimacing as he rubbed his hand over his hair. “Also, I find bruises very unattractive.”
Increasingly appalled by his matter-of-fact summation, Allura gasped at this last outrageous remark. “I don't sulk! I am not proud, and I have forgiven such things!” Lotor would mistake principles for pride.
He blinked his eyes open and looked at her. “But you have never forgotten them—have you.”
Frowning, Allura could not immediately deny it.
Lotor scowled. “Who struck you?”
Allura said nothing.
He surveyed her pensive expression for a moment, then he seemed to let the matter go. “You have shot at me, slapped me in front of my men, and destroyed very expensive military equipment that I had to answer for.” The memories clearly didn't please him. “If I have not struck you yet, you are probably safe enough.” His expression softened then, becoming more wry than annoyed. “I was fully aware of your temperament when I married you, Allura.”
She was kind and gentle; everyone said so.
He stopped fussing with his hair and braced his hands on the wall on either side of her. “You are the loveliest woman I have ever seen,” he said then, “but it's always been your spirit that I admired the most.”
Allura folded her arms across her chest. Wasn't she a lucky girl?
Some of her feelings must have been apparent in her face; his open, admiring look was replaced by a miffed one. He held her gaze for a long moment. Allura looked into his striking eyes, as compelling as those of any predator. She was beginning to feel nervous when he glanced aside as though he'd had a sudden realization. His amber eyes widened theatrically. “I could take away all of your clothes...”
Her hands flew to his shoulders, urging him to turn back around; she reached for the shower head to direct it onto his hair. "Let me help you with that," she said. He went obediently enough, but not before she saw his triumphant smirk.
***
Allura finished the left-hand braid and bound it to right-hand one at her nape as she walked forward, using a ribbon filched from her wardrobe; the style left most of her hair loose, but it would at least keep it out of her face. She walked out of the bedchamber in time to see him set the breakfast tray down on the low table himself. Allura had yet to see him admit anyone, servants or otherwise.
Instantly the animal appeared from where ever it hid and leaped onto him, clinging to the curve of his shoulder with its tiny claws and long tail. As she watched, Lotor began to fill his plate, offering the thing tidbits from his own hand. It ate them all with greedy enthusiasm whether the food was meat or vegetable, displaying pointed blue teeth.
Allura knelt next to the table and leaned forward, curious. It was beautiful and lively, but it seemed to have its master's self-interest. Once it had eaten its fill it always disappeared again. She didn't make any attempt to fill her own plate. Lotor had made it clear from the start that he got first choice—he and his pet.
She smiled wryly; she supposed that showed her where she rated in her new household.
“What's its name?” she asked.
Lotor's brows twitched a little in amusement; he looked at it then. “Food Taster,” he said.
Then he smiled. “The Third."
***
After breakfast, Allura had scarcely opened her book when she felt something land lightly in her lap. She slowly lowered her book onto her chest. It was the... it was Lotor's non-pet. Pleased, she watched it walk up her prone body, placing each foot carefully, head bobbing and nose working as it took her measure. Its small scaled feet reminded her of a bird or lizard. Now that she could see it closely she saw that the rest of it was densely covered with something just as much like feathers as fur.
Right now it was looking very sleek and held its long tail arched back over its body so that the curled tip almost brushed the top of its head. She slowly extended a hand. It sniffed at it, touching her fingers only with the long, almost invisibly fine whiskers around its short muzzle; all the while it watched her with eyes that were the same luminescent ruby color as its pelt.
Its round-eyed, very direct stare reminded her a bit of a predatory bird. It raised the longer, wider plumes on top of its head when she cautiously rubbed her finger there; it was very soft. Its gold-rimmed pupils were like nothing she had seen before, they contracted to a four-lobed shape like a tiny clover, becoming more round in appearance when they expanded.
Allura was so beguiled by it that it took her a moment to register that she was also being petted. She didn't think much of it until the animal butted the back of its head against her fingers and she tried some gentle scratching.
The fingers stroking her hair moved to scratch gently behind one of her ears.
Allura narrowed her eyes and reminded herself that she was not letting him provoke her today, at least not any more than she had already. She didn't look up from where her head rested on his thigh—his idea, not hers.
It wasn't just that she wanted to deny him the satisfaction; she was pretty certain of what she would see if she did look: Lotor would not be looking at her; he would be smirking but not enough to convict him.
After a little while he gave up and went back to stroking her hair.
Then he spoke, “So, are we going out or staying in?”
Allura did look up at that, quick enough to make her new friend start.
She had been right. Lotor was not looking at her. Then he set his electronic gizmo aside and looked down. As she looked up at him, he moved his hand and she felt his thumb rub along the line of her jaw. She swallowed nervously when his fingers curved around her throat and into her hair. His eyes narrowed with satisfaction.
What he was really asking was whether he would be 'enjoying' his wife here or in some other location.
The thought woke an anxious little quiver in her tummy. It wasn't enough to quell her surprise and pleasure at leaving here again, even if it was only temporarily.
***
This time when Allura jumped down from the ship, she was buried up to her shoulders rather than just her ankles. She cried out in surprise and yanked her arms free. They ended up high in the air; the fine powder gave almost no resistance. Laughing, she began to try and scoot her way on top of the snow, her arms sinking in to the shoulder again as she paddled and struggled her way forward. It was so loose that it was almost like trying to get on top of water.
She rolled onto her back, panting, having more or less succeeded, and stared up into an immense sky, a deeper blue than she'd ever seen it during the day. She lay there, content in that one moment; she could feel her heart working from surprise and exertion; the bite of the cold, dry air made her aware of every breath.
Finally, she turned her head. Lotor was standing on the dark wing of his craft, watching her with an odd expression. It looked as though he couldn't decide whether to fly off and leave his mad wife behind or to mock her first and then fly off.
Allura smiled a little. It didn't surprise her that he hadn't followed her down here. It was becoming clear that he disliked discomfort of even the mildest kind, the tickle of grass or the itch of sand. Nearly everything he kept around him was warm and extraordinarily pleasant to the touch. She wrinkled her nose a little—she supposed she must be no exception.
The wonder was that he'd brought her here at all; she'd had to forewarn him to get proper clothes.
She stretched out her arms and looked back up into the blue, her breath sending up white plumes of vapor; her successful escape pleased her, small and temporary though it was.
***
If Allura thought that an over-large coat and a bunch of fluff was going to keep him off of her, then she was sadly confused—if that wasn't already obvious from her choice of entertainments. Lotor looked down at his wife, a splash of gold and cream in a still ocean of blue shadows and glittering white. Her complacent expression when she'd looked up at him had been quite amusing.
He watched her sit up and work her little hands out of gray-white sleeves—it was just as well they were far too long; there had been no gloves that would fit her. She then picked up some of the snow and tried to mold it into something.
When that failed, she threw sparkling handfuls into the air and tipped her head back, letting it fall on her face and hair—and onto her small, pink tongue.
His bemusement vanished—replaced by vivid imaginings. Her tongue, hot and curious along his throat, between his fingers, curling against his sex—lust tightened his body and deepened his breath.
He leaned toward her—and pulled back with a jerk, dangerously close to tipping over the edge of the wing onto his face. Scowling, he pushed away the disturbing thoughts. He had never been the sort to lay around while someone played with him or licked at him however they liked—he wasn't a toy or a piece of candy.
He crossed his arms over his chest. Surely this strange fixation with her would loosen its hold now that she was finally his?
Below him, the source of his consternation lay back in the snow and began to wave her arms and legs about. Bizarre. He shook his head. He watched as Allura carefully stood up, wobbling as she sank deeper, and looked down and behind her, surveying the vaguely rumpled snow. She frowned and put her hands on her hips. The length of empty sleeve revealed by her action amused him.
He relaxed. Given a little time, Allura would become one more beautiful possession to him, albeit an especially useful and valued one. One day he would be able to settle her in one of the Imperial palaces with a sense of relief, and his quarters, his closets, his life—and his fantasies—would once more be his own.
In the meantime, the more often he indulged himself the sooner boredom would set in.
It was a win-win scenario if he'd ever heard one. He stepped forward off of the wing into the snow.
***
After witnessing Allura's landing he had been careful to present a larger surface area. He was still buried up to the chest, but much more shallowly. He leaned back in a partly reclining position. The snow was actually not uncomfortable; the military gear he was wearing kept him warm and dry—except for the tips of his ears. No doubt he would think of some way Allura could make it up to him. He crossed his legs at the ankle.
Allura must be aware of him even though she hadn't acknowledged him. He had pursued her all over this pathetic planet and no small number of its neighbors. Now things were different.
“Come here, Allura.”
Allura rose gracefully and came toward him, shushing and crunching through the snow. The going was awkward, but she showed no embarrassment. He recalled her earlier assertion that she was not proud.
She stopped, falling to her knees just above where his feet were buried. He smiled, and laced his gloved fingers together over his chest.
“Closer,” he said.
She hesitated and then continued forward on her arms, emerging from the snow as she crawled up his body. He pulled in a breath the first time he felt her weight, right above his knee, then his hip, his ribs. He blinked when her knee made a near miss, but she seemed oblivious. She stopped again, head bent a little, her hair spilling out of her hood and over her shoulder. She was so lovely, even in this bright, harsh light. In truth, it suited her. Nothing else showed her in her full glory.
He reached up a hand to touch her face.
She looked up then, and he smiled at the emotion he saw in her eyes. Perhaps Allura wasn't proud, but she did not like being told what to do—at least not by him.
Or perhaps she was annoyed that he hadn't stayed on the ship.
His smile widened. Too bad for her.
He leaned upward. He could feel her breath against his face now—much more pleasant than the flat of her hand. In the past, this was right about the time she'd let him have it, and not in a coy, flirtatious way either—but not anymore.
He leaned upward a little more. His gloved thumb rubbed over her cheek. He couldn't feel her skin, but its texture was writ fresh and deep on his memory.
To his surprise, the tension in her eased then; she closed her eyes surrendering to the inevitable, responding easily when he urged her a little closer.
Just before his lips touched hers, she spoke.
“I kiss mice,” she said.
Chapter 6
