Her face tightened.
“There’s a nice place in the atrium where we were earlier.”
Her features relaxed, and she lowered the pot shard. Maybe she thought she could gain her freedom in such an open space. Emotions played across her face, like she was having a conversation with herself in her head.
Finally, she hopped to the deck and primly set the shard on the edge of the bed. She stooped to pull on her boots before smoothing the front of her bloodstained uniform.
“Clothing would be appreciated, thank you.”
He almost shook his head at her forced manners. CORE citizens were nothing if not polite. Standing, he walked to the door and waited for her to join him. She strode through the carnage with her head held high, stepping over each smear of mess with a dainty hop. He might have found it comical if it hadn’t been his quarters.
When she stopped beside him, he touched his vambrace and her wrists clasped together on a click.
A strangled sound came from her throat as she turned her gaze to his, her jaw clenched. He had the urge to undo the bonds but knew he couldn’t. Not without repercussions to both of them. He turned away from her infuriated eyes and stepped into the corridor.
Jaw clenched, Nia kept her gaze glued to Mace’s back, watching the play of muscle beneath the skin-hugging material as they walked the corridor. He’d changed into a warrior’s uniform, like the one his friend had been wearing the day before, but Mace’s had long sleeves. The dark blue of it suited his olive complexion. He’d shaved too. It almost made him look…respectable? Less threatening?
She shook her head, eyes lowering. Stars above, why did Tellusians wear such tight pants? He might as well be naked given how much they left to the imagination.Gluteus maximus, gluteus medius, tensor fasciae latae. Medical terminology helped her keep it professional instead of appreciating the way his muscles bunched and shifted.
Her eyes rested on his gun. All the warriors she’d seen yesterday in the corridors had at least one gun strapped to their thigh, some with two, and numerous blades as well. Mace only had the one, no knives.
They arrived at the lift, and he turned to her, catching her stare. She stepped back, heat flooding her neck and face.
He held her gaze, his brow puckering. “That would not end well for you,izar.”
She shivered at the threat given in such a soft tone, was about to deny she’d been thinking about grabbing the gun, when he touched the panel beside the lift.
The door slid open. He gestured for her to enter ahead of him. They both turned and the lift doors closed, sealing them inside. As it rose, she cast him a glance out of the corner of her eye. She’d thought him intimidating before, but in his Tellusian uniform, a weapon on his thigh, it was ten times worse.
The lift stopped, the door opening. Mace sent her a brief glance before leading the way out. She followed him onto the third level of the atrium, to a door marked CAL3-027. It slid open when he touched the side panel.
Mace stepped through first, and she followed, hesitant. The space was as large as his quarters, but bolts of fabric covered the bulkheads with bright colors and bold patterns. Nia squinted against the offensive glare. Some of the fabrics were even changing color and pattern.
A woman sat on a stool beside the counter at the rear of the space and lifted her head. Her eyes widened. “Mace.”
Her black hair was swept into an elaborate style on her head, her eyes outlined heavily in dark makeup. The red dress she wore had cutaways everywhere, revealing more flesh than it covered, despite the skirt being floor-length.So much skin.
The woman didn’t say anything for long seconds, only stared, then she shot to her feet before moving toward them, her eyes jumping from Mace, to Nia, then to her bonds. Nia flexed her fingers.
“Welcome. Come on in.” The woman’s accent wasn’t as thick as Mace’s, lilting in a different cadence, almost musical.
“You look well,” Mace responded with a smile.
His genuine pleasure made Nia’s stomach flutter. She glowered, turning her head to stare at the woman’s tattoo. A thin line of words, in a language she couldn’t read, spiraled its way from her pinkie finger to her ear.
She met Nia’s eyes, brow crinkling, then blinked at Mace. “You need some clothes?”
Mace nodded as he touched his vambrace and Nia’s wrists fell apart. “Whatever she needs.”
“Budget?” she asked, eyebrows raising.
Mace shook his head.
Her eyes brightened. “Great!” The woman grabbed Nia’s elbow and she instinctively pulled away.
Beside her, Mace took a step forward to separate them.
The woman frowned. “It’s okay,” she said to Nia. “I won’t hurt you.”
