Krystal
When she woke, she was alone. The only sign that she hadn’t been dreaming was the ache between her legs. It wasn’t unpleasant—not at all—but it was a reminder of what she and T’arq had done. She groaned and stuffed a pillow over her head.
She was so stupid. He turns up on her doorstep and she just, what? Has sex with him? Mind-blowing out of this world—out of this galaxy—sex, sure. But she didn’t even ask how he felt about her?
And how could she be annoyed with him deciding for her when he had done exactly that and she had loved every damned second?
She had always thought she wanted what her parents had had. Comfortable and cozy. Like a cup of hot chocolate after being out in the snow. That’s what love had always seemed like to her.
What she felt when she was with T’arq was so far from that it wasn’t funny. It was scorching, incendiary… it felt as if she would die if he didn’t touch her.
She pulled the pillow away and threw it across the room.
Was it time to let love go? It wasn’t as if she would find it with T’arq. That was obvious enough. He was notorious for sleeping around. One night and then move on. But oh, what a night. She tried, but couldn’t find it in herself to regret it.
But a little piece of her wondered if it had meant anything more to him. He had seemed almost shaken, reverent. He was not what she had expected.
She rubbed her temples.
What did it all mean?
Krystal sighed and pulled the sheet up from where it had become tangled around her feet. Did it matter? He had left without saying goodbye, sneaking out before she woke up and had to speak with her. And they had to work with each other, at least until this cloak was tested and then rolled out across the fleet. It would make it harder to work with him for the next few weeks, sure, but she could manage. She would have to manage.
Dragging herself from the bed, Krystal made her way into the shower and was, not for the first time, thankful that the hot water was instantaneous and plentiful. She soaped her hair and ran her hands over her body, wincing as she touched tender places. She had finger marks on her hips, she realized, spreading her hand to match the print, her hand so much smaller. And was that a hickey on her neck?
Oh great. That was going to be fun to cover up. At least she had material for her wank bank for the rest of her life. Because she didn’t think anyone would ever live up to that.
She pushed thoughts of T’arq and his wicked tongue out of her mind. She quickly finished washing and was wrapping a towel around herself when the buzzer for her door sounded.
Her heart thumped rapidly as she rushed to the door, which slid open with a gush of cool air from the corridor to reveal… not T’arq, but Laila.
Oh.
A dull ache settled in her chest. Had she really thought that he had come back for her? Yes, she had. She spun away, hiding her face.
“What happened in here?” Laila stood just inside the doorway and looked around the small room, eyes wide.
It was a bit of a mess. More so than usual. The sheet had come loose from the bottom of the mattress, the blankets in a heap at the foot of the bed. Clothes were strewn haphazardly around the room, draped over the armchair and across the floor.
Krystal hid a smile behind her hand, pretending to stifle a yawn. “Nothing.”
“Nothing? Really?”
“Yes?”
Laila crossed her arms. “You’re my little sister, Krystal. I thought I told you to stay away from him.”
Krystal stomped toward the wardrobe that was built into the wall near the bed and retrieved a clean uniform and underwear. Disappearing into the bathroom, she slid the door shut.
“You can’t just run away from this, Krys!” Laila shouted through the door.
Krystal didn’t bother to reply, fighting to control her temper. She quickly dressed and squeezed the water from her hair with the towel, opting to leave it loose to dry.
Opening the door, she confronted her sister, who was bending to pick something up from the floor. “What is this?” She held up a sock. A very large sock. One that belonged to an equally large warrior that had been warming her bed only hours before.
“It’s a sock, Laila.”
“I can see that. What’s it doing here?”
