Esag let out a breath. He should be flattered and welcome the advances. Instead, he was obsessing about a pregnant female who hated him. But she didn't just hate him.
He knew that she felt the connection too, the strange resonance that had somehow linked them through dreams and visions.
They reached the barracks—a long, low building with fresh paint and new windows that still had construction stickers on the glass. It wasn't much to look at, but it was clean and functional.
Esag held the door open as the group filed in. Tula entered, barely sparing him a glance, and Tony followed her, his hand hovering near the small of her back without touching.
The interior was a large open room with rows of beds, each with a small nightstand and locker. Basic military-style accommodations.
"You've got to be kidding me," Tony grumbled. "All of us are supposed to sleep in this place together?"
Tula turned to look at him with a raised brow. "What were you expecting? This isn't a hotel. Be grateful we have beds to rest on at all."
"I just thought we'd get private rooms."
"You thought wrong." She turned away from him, surveying the long hall with a critical eye. "It's fine. As long as there is privacy in the bathroom, I'm good. "
"There's no privacy anywhere." Tony pouted. "These are army barracks, and everything is communal. We’ll be lucky if there are private toilet stalls, and I guarantee you that there is no separate bathroom for the ladies. It's one bathroom per building." He turned to Drova. "Am I right?"
She nodded. "Spot on. But the showers have privacy curtains, and the toilets are in enclosed stalls."
Tony turned back to Tula. "You see? I was right. I'm always right."
Even Esag knew that was the wrong thing to say to a female who was already agitated.
"That's good enough. We don't need more privacy than that." Tula's voice was dangerously soft. "Not anymore."
The room went silent. Every other conversation stopped, and the ladies suddenly started showing a lot of interest in the provided bedding.
Tony's face went through several expressions—hurt, confusion, and anger. "I don't understand. Did I do something wrong? Is this about Kaia?"
"This isn't about Kaia." Tula sighed. "I'm sorry. This is not a conversation I want to have with an audience. We will talk later."
Tony swallowed. "What did I do wrong?"
"Nothing." She put a hand on his arm. "Nothing at all. Give it a rest, Tony. We will talk about this later."
Esag felt something twist in his chest. It wasn't satisfaction at seeing Tony dismissed, but discomfort at witnessing the guy's pain and confusion. Tony stood there looking shattered, and despite his jealousy, despite wanting Tula for himself, Esag couldn't help feeling sorry for the human.
He wanted to say something to break the tension, but before he could formulate words, Tula's gaze swung to him.
"You," she said, her voice sharp as a blade. "Why are you standing there staring at us? Is this entertaining for you?"
The accusation stung more than it should have. "I'm just waiting for you to be done with the drama so I can continue showing you the facilities."
"Drama? Is that what it is to you?"
Esag wanted to kick himself. Why had he allowed himself to get swept into Tula's circle of ire?
Tony looked like he wanted the floor to open and swallow him whole.
"I might have misspoken," Esag said to mollify her. "I'm sorry. Can we continue the tour now?"
Some of the fire went out of her expression, replaced by weariness. "You're always sorry. Sorry for this and sorry for that." She turned away. "I'm tired of sorry."
"Tula—" Tony started.
"Don't." She held up a hand without looking at him. "Just... don't. I need some space."
