My food arrived, some kind of protein synthesis that tasted vaguely like chicken if chicken had given up on flavor entirely. I ate anyway, my body demanding fuel even if my brain wanted to obsess over Dana's casual mention of Zor'go being proud of me.
"How are you?" Bea asked quietly. She'd been watching me with those assessing eyes that missed nothing, occupational hazard of being a trauma surgeon, probably. "Really."
"Tired. Overwhelmed. Terrified I'm going to screw up and waste everyone's time." I forced a smile. "The usual."
"That's not what I asked."
Elena snorted. "She asked if you're okay, not whether you're adequately anxious about professional failure. Those are different questions."
I looked at Elena—tall and sharp and vibrating with barely contained energy, the way she'd been for weeks now. She'd been distant since the bonding ceremony, spending most of her time in Security training with Vaxon, coming back to quarters tense and snapping at small provocations.
"Are you okay?" I asked her.
"Perfect. Living the dream. Stuck on an alien warship doing guard duty when I was supposed to be exploring new worlds." Her smile was all edges. "But sure, let's talk about your feelings about the sexy architect you're spending sixteen hours a day with."
"He's not sexy. He's my supervisor."
"He's eight and a half feet of crystalline silver perfection who looks at you like you hung the stars," Dana said. "And before you deny it, Er'dox mentioned that Zor'go's beendifferent lately, almost pleasant.Direct quote."
My face burned. "It's professional."
"Professional doesn't make you blush like that."
"I don't blush."
"You're currently the color of a ripe tomato."
"Bea, help me out here."
Bea smiled, rare and genuine, the kind of expression that transformed her usually serious face into something warm. "Sorry. I'm with Dana on this one. You talk about him constantly. 'Zor'go calculated this.' 'Zor'go suggested that.' 'Zor'go's spatial analysis is revolutionary.' It's adorable."
"It's professional admiration."
"It's emotional involvement disguised as professional admiration," Elena corrected. "Which, hey, no judgment. We'reall trapped on this ship. Might as well find someone who makes the imprisonment entertaining."
The bitterness in her voice cut through the teasing, leaving awkward silence in its wake. Dana opened her mouth to respond, but movement near the entrance caught my attention.
Er'dox had arrived, his massive frame navigating the crowded dining area with the easy confidence of someone completely comfortable in his skin. And behind him?—
Zor'go.
My stomach did that complicated flip again, the one I kept pretending was just hunger or low blood sugar or anything other than attraction. He'd changed his work tunic for something cleaner, his markings catching the overhead lights as he moved. His ice-blue eyes scanned the room, found me, held contact for just a moment before he looked away.
That moment felt like an electric shock.
"Oh, you're screwed," Elena muttered.
"I'm professional."
"You're professionally screwed."
Er'dox reached our table first, his expression brightening when he saw Dana. The way they looked at each other made my chest tight, not from jealousy but from wanting that for myself, that certainty, that joy in someone else's presence.
"Mind if we join you?" Er'dox asked, already pulling out the chair beside Dana.
Zor'go stood slightly behind him, looking uncomfortable in a way I'd never seen before. Like he wasn't sure whether he was welcome, whether this was appropriate, whether he should maintain professional distance or?—
"Sit," I said, gesturing to the empty chair beside me before I could overthink it.
