"Of course," he said, his hands falling to his sides.
"Let’s get in bed," she blurted, immediately regretting it as Cirrus quirked an eyebrow, amusement tugging at his lips.
Heat spread across her cheeks. "I meant—we should sleep. In our separate beds. In our individual cabins."
Cirrus smirked, his voice low and teasing. "Whatever you want, Banns."
They walked in silence to the officer’s quarters, Vivienne keeping a careful step between them.
Only when Cirrus stopped at the door next to hers did she realize he’d been so close.
Her pulse jumped as he held the door to his cabin open, watching her. Was he waiting for her to step inside? Or was this an invitation?
Not willing to find out, Vivienne unlocked her door, slipped inside, and turned the lock with a sharp click.
She pressed her forehead against the wood, exhaling hard.It’s only been two days. What are you doing, Vivienne?
Cirrus was herex-fiancé.Exfor plenty of reasons.
But as she lay in her bunk, the wall between them feeling too thin, she couldn’t remember a single one of those reasons.
* * *
Golden light spilledthrough the glazed porthole window, stretching across the narrow cabin in lazy bands. Vivienne groaned, rolling onto her side, the ship’s gentle sway rocking her back toward sleep. Above, footsteps thudded across the deck, the muffled voices of sailors already deep into their morning routines.
With a resigned sigh, she forced herself upright, grimacing as sore muscles protested the movement. Before anything else, she reached for the small jar of salve Dr. Mercer had given her. As she unwound the bandages from her hands, the raw, reddened skin made her wince. She dipped her fingers into the cool balm, rubbing it gently across the tender flesh before securing fresh strips of linen around her palms.
Done with that small battle, she pulled her tote from the writing desk and fished out her silver compact. The moment she flipped it open, the twin mirrors delivered a ruthless verdict. Dark under-eye circles, a sunburn across the bridge of her nose, and hair resembling a bird’s nest abandoned mid-construction.
She let out a slow breath, naming ten species of birds that might find it a suitable home.
Rummaging through her trunk, she yanked out a hairbrush and set to work. The first pass snagged so viciously she nearly yowled like a wounded cat. By the time she fought her way through the knots, her scalp ached, but at least she lookedsomewhathuman.
With that, she headed toward the gun deck, the scent of fresh bread and salted meat pulling her into the forming breakfast line.
Through the shifting crowd, Lewis spotted her and maneuvered his way over, sliding in beside her.
"Hey, Viv. Did you finally sleep?"
"You're chipper this morning…" she muttered, rubbing the heel of her palm over one eye.
"Sounds like anoto me," he quipped.
She elbowed him lightly. "Idid, but if I slept for a week, it still wouldn’t be enough."
"I think it's good to have goals."
Vivienne narrowed her tired eyes at him.
"You know," he continued, straight-faced, "start with a week-long sleep, then ease into a coma, and eventually work up to full hibernation."
A surprised laugh burst from her lips. "Don’t tempt me with a good time."
As the breakfast line inched forward, movement in her periphery caught her attention. Cirrus and Commander Thorne strode past in the opposite direction, deep in conversation. Thorne barely glanced their way, offering a curt nod. Cirrus, however, slowed just enough to flash Vivienne a lingering smile—one brimming with something warm, something too soft for casual acknowledgment.
Lewis scoffed beside her. "Uh, what wasthat?"
"What was what?" she asked, feigning ignorance.
