“I’m having trouble understanding how all of this is possible.” Her chest heaved with her confession. “Are you a dream? I did hit my head rather hard.” She stepped forward and hesitantly reached out for him, her fingertips hovering over his breastplate. “Are you real?”
He flattened her palm against the armor as he put his hand over hers. It dwarfed it. Everything about this female was delicate. And unlike the Suls, who were also small in stature, she didn’t have rows of razor-sharp teeth and a powerful sucker for a face.
“I’m real,” he finally said, and she pulled her hand back like she’d been shocked. At the declaration or at his touch, he wasn’t quite certain.
Emotion rippled over her features before she shook her head to dispel it. “Thank you. For being real and for—” She gestured to the healed spot at her temple. “But I have to get home. The sun is close to setting, and my family will be wondering where I’m at.”
He could tell she had more questions, more concerns—the spark of it was in her eyes—but perhaps it had been too much at once for her. Ved couldn’t quite reason why he felt compelled to tell her as much as he had. Instinct told him to be cautious, but in his sixty-three cycles, he’d never had an interaction quite like this.
Last night, while disassembling the body of his enemy, Exxo had lectured him about exactly why he should have killed Isobel Nott. Not that he needed his neurolink to. And though Ved had murdered for lesser reasons, he didn’t like the idea. Xaal believed fighting was sacred. Killing just to kill was rarely their way.
And he wasn’t going to kill someone who was unconscious. That was the way of cowards.
Even if he had to, he didn’t think he’d want to destroy something like her. It would be like stepping on a flower somehow growing through the shattered remains of a downed ship—negligent and senseless.
Ruinous.
He’d had a moment of weakness last night, but he refused to let the Authority control him. If, when they sent their droid assessors, they found out about Isobel Nott, he would deal with it then.
She moved away, leaving that floral scent in her wake. “It was nice meetingyou, Ved.”
He watched the way her mouth formed around his name. It sounded somehow softer coming from her, like petals falling from her lips. He had the terrible notion of having her say it again.
Banishing those illogical thoughts to the depths of himself—and making a mental note to ask Exxo to recheck the air quality—he took a step back. He needed to get his ship operational. He had little time for distractions, no matter how inquisitive they were or how curious he found them.
Even so, he tracked her as she stepped away. The flowy purple material she wore swished around her as she moved.
“You’ll be here tomorrow?” she asked, pausing at the entry to look back at him.
“Downed ship,” he responded.
Her cheeks turned a beautiful red color before she wiggled her fingers—neither of which were mannerisms he could fully decipher. Then she was gone.
“Well met, Isobel Nott,” he rumbled to himself before Exxo launched into a lengthy, data-backed admonishment.
Chapter 9
Isobel
Isobel had broken more than one rule in an hour—a personal best. First, she’d told a harmless lie that had exempted her from promenading around Haydenmere with Clara and Henry. The walk was less for exercise and more for strategic socialization, and though her brother wanted her to accompany them, she’d said she was feeling lightheaded. Secondly, she had pilfered food from the kitchen after waiting for Cook to finally retire.
By the time she reached the ship, she was breathless with anticipation. It was a feeling that rivaled even the most exhilarating climax of a book.
There were people.From other planets.The galaxy was more expansive than anything she thought possible.Entire worlds existed out there.
She’d often felt like she didn’t belong here—in this country, in this lifetime. In this world. It was easy, then, to imagine that perhaps she belonged somewhere else. Somewhere up there.
“Isobel Nott,” Ved greeted in that rough voice of his. He appeared around a bend the moment she stepped inside, his hulking form stopping not far from her.
He looked different. The armor that had covered his torso yesterday was gone. He was left in a black material that molded to every curve of muscle. His attire was immodest, but if she took away what she wassupposedto think, she was mostly fascinated by his form. His abdominal muscles were thick blocks built in a ladder that shifted with every slight movement. There were eight or ten of them, but she lost count as he shifted and they rippled.
He was built unlike anyone she’d ever seen.
However, his skin was still covered, and she suddenly desired toseehim. What did someone who sailed the stars look like? It was presumptuous to imagine him exactly like someone from Dorsent, yet somehow it felt ill-mannered to be curious at all.
Something told her he definitely didn’t look like an ordinary gentleman of theton.
She lifted her gaze to his defined pectorals before realizing she was gawking. The fire rushing to her face wasn’t even a surprise. It seemed to be the only thing she could do in his presence. Holding her basket in front of her like the good shield it was, she at least managed a full sentence. “I brought more food.”
