“I think I’ll be okay.”
A warm spot bloomed between my shoulder blades. I inhaled sharply, goose pimples cascading across my back.
“Your heart rate spiked again. Are you okay?”
“I’m perfect. I just… haven’t been touched by anyone else in a long time.”
The warm spot vanished, and I leaned back reflexively, seeking it.
“I am so sorry,” Lyrin said. “I did not mean to stress you.”
“No, no! No stress—at least not the bad kind. It’s… completely fine. You may finger—touch. Touch my back.”
“Are you sure? I will only proceed with your full consent.”
“I consent!”
I tried to hide the eagerness in my voice. I failed.
“Very well.”
The warm spot bloomed again, and I sighed before slapping my hand over my mouth. Either he didn’t notice, or he was polite enough not to mention it. He touched several points along my back, traveling lower until he reached just above my tailbone. My lower back arched on instinct. I swear I tried to stop it.
“Why were you out there alone?” he asked.
“Budgetary constraints. Why send two people when you can get away with paying for one?”
“I’m very sorry to hear that. Did you like your job?”
“I liked… getting paid.”
“Were you good at what you did?”
“I was good enough to get hired,” I said. “Not good enough to get promoted. Or get any good assignments.”
He placed a hand on my shoulder. “Well, whatever your past was, it does not decide who you are or what happens next. You are safe here.”
I took a deep breath. I wanted to believe him. But he was still a pirate.
“Sounds like something a pirate would say.”
“You keep calling us that,” he said, “but I don’t know that word. What is a pirate?”
“You know—someone who steals things that aren’t theirs. Plunders. Kidnaps women. All of that.”
“Ah. Yes. We are not that.”
“Still sounds like something a pirate would say.”
He let out a deep, rich laugh. “The Captain will want to speak with you. Do you feel up to that?”
I gestured to the sheet pinned against my chest. “Do I, by any chance, get to wear clothes?”
The blue of his skin flushed deep purple. “Of course. My apologies. Let me get you a jumpsuit. Then you meet the Captain and the rest of the crew.”
He bounded out of the room, and I looked around with fresh eyes. The door hadn't been locked—he'd walked right out without touching a panel or entering a code. The sheets I'd been clutching weren't standard-issue anything; they were soft, intentional, chosen. The single light panel overhead wasn't interrogation-bright but dim, almost comfortable.
Not a cell. A room. Maybe even a guest room.
