He offered a short bow to Kirr—who returned it with a stiff nod—and swept out of the room, the door hissing shut behind him.
"He's weird," Harper decided, looking back at her wrist. She couldn't stop staring at the bracelet. It made her feel... cherished. Valuable. Words she'd never applied to herself. “Nice, but weird sometimes.”
He is from the V'Raav clan," Kirr said dismissively. "They’re all odd. Too much thinking, not enough hitting."
She laughed, the sound light and free. "You can't solve everything by hitting it, Kirr."
"You’d be surprised." He stepped closer, crowding into her space until she had to tilt her head back to look at him. His hands settled on her waist, heavy and warm through her thin shirt. "There is a function tonight. On the observation deck. Formal dress."
Her stomach flipped. "A function? Like a party?"
"A diplomatic gathering. Boring speeches. But there will be drinks and food." He looked down at her, his eyes darkening. "I want you to come with me."
That was unfair, especially after he’d given her the beautiful bracelet, but she couldn’t help it. The words slipped out anyway.
"As what?" she asked, her insecurity getting the better of her for a moment. "Your prisoner? Your charity case?"
His grip on her waist tightened. "As mine… as the female I am courting."
She forgot how to breathe. Her pulse kicked hard. At his side, not as an obligation, but chosen instead.
"I don't have anything to wear to something like that," she said weakly. "My clothes are... well, look at me." She gestured to the LMP sweater and joggers.
"I have taken care of that," Kirr said. A corner of his mouth ticked up. "There are options waiting in our quarters."
Their quarters.
He was dismantling her defenses one brick at a time, and she wasn't even trying to stop him anymore. Why would she? Delilah was going to live. She had a silver band that made her feel like royalty, and this massive, terrifying, gentle… sexy man wanted to show her off to the entire station.
"Okay," she whispered. "I'll come."
He leaned down and brushed a kiss against her forehead. It wasn't the hungry, claiming kiss of the night before. It was tender. Sweet. "Good. We should go. You need to prepare."
She turned back to the bed one last time and reached out to squeeze Delilah's fingers. "I'll be back tomorrow, Dee. Keep getting better, okay? Don't make me look bad in front of the aliens."
She let go of her cousin's hand and turned back to Kirr. He offered her his arm, and she slipped her fingers into the crook of his elbow.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Yeah," she said. Her shoulders loosened, and the smile that stretched across her face surprised her. "I'm ready."
12
Steam billowed out of the bathroom as Harper opened the door, wrapping the thick, plush towel tighter around her chest. The humidity clung to her skin, warm and luxurious. It was a definite change from the rattling pipes and lukewarm drizzle of her apartment shower back on Earth. Here, the water pressure could make a girl cry tears of joy.
Stepping into the bedroom, she froze, eyes wide as she looked around.
"Holy shit."
While she'd been scrubbing the nervous sweat from the LMP panel in the shower, the room had been transformed. The massive bed, which was big enough to sleep an entire squad of Marines, was piled high. Silks, velvets, and fabrics that shimmered like liquid metal draped across the dark furs. Beside the pile of dresses sat a tray of bottles, brushes, and sleek containers that looked suspiciously like high-end cosmetics.
Her hand covered her mouth.
Kirr.
He must have done all this while she was in the shower. Her chest did that funny little flip-flop thing again—whenever she thought about the massive, terrifying War-Commander acting like a thoughtful boyfriend.
Boyfriend. God, was that what he was? The word felt too small. Way too small.
