Page 50 of Tempting Fate

The words hung between us.

He was pushing me, I knew it. I shouldn’t indulge him or give him the opportunity for another outburst, but I couldn’t let it stand, and I was done staying quiet. “Airida mai Tasra, what have I said about giving me orders?”

A quivering wave ruffled his headspines, and he shuddered, his breath hitching. He caught his lip with his tusks. “Sorry, Marni. Please?”

“Better.” I held his gaze, ignoring the pulse between my legs. Fuck, what a good boy. I reached into my bag. There was no way this spoiled man didn’t have red flags—and he was not cute.

I flicked through my sketchbook and held it out. “These were today’s. They’re just rough field sketches. I like to redo them when I get home if I find the time.”

“Imani, these are good. You are an artist. Don’t say you aren’t.”

Warmth and pride bubbled up at his words.

“I can’t wait until I can paint properly again.”

“Wait, you’re an artist too?”

He threw his head back and laughed, catching his breath before turning his amethyst eyes to mine. “I wouldn’t call me an artist either, but I suspect you will have words for me if I say that.”

I followed his gaze to the crates in the corner. “You’re damn right I will. Is that your art stuff?”

“Yes. I tried to do some painting on the ship, but my hands wouldn’t do as I wanted.”

“It’ll come back.” I stroked my fingers over his before realising what I was doing, and tugged them away.

More silence spanned between us.

“I spoke to my sister,” he said.

“And?”

“I let her have my anger.” He fiddled with the bedsheets, twisting and bunching them in his fingers. His headspines writhed in the way I’d come to understand meant strong emotion, and his next words came out gruff. “I’m sorry you got some of it.”

Fine, he wasn’t a complete dick. “No, I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner. I wanted to. I just…”

He let out a long sigh. “Didn’t want to upset me. I know. Are we still friends?”

I took in the sincerity in his face, his glimmering eyes and parted lips. Friends was fine. I could do friends. “Yeah, we are. What else did she say?”

He cradled his mug in both hands. “Not much. She was concerned about people listening in on an open line, so I need to get a secure datapad. Then she can share her information with me.”

“Ah, yeah, Garrison said something like that.” At his furrowed brows, I added, “As soon as I found out, I called him. He handed me over to your sister.”

“And how did that go?”

“Take a guess. I told her you had a right to know.” I gave a sad smile. “She only wants to keep you safe.”

He ran a hand over his headspines in a slow drag, fingers caressing the tips with gentle precision as they pulled away. “She means well, but I can’t sit still and stay hidden any longer. I have to do something. I may need to go into town, would you be able to take me?”

My gut twisted, I wasn’t sure with what. “Yeah, no worries. Orukem still isn’t back, by the way. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me a little longer.”

“That is—” He looked away. “It is hard, having so much to think about. I was going to say it is a good thing to have you. But if Orukem is not back, that is concerning.”

“It is.” My eyes darted round the room, finding things to latch onto. The curve of the window. The lines of the bricks. The plant I’d got him, next to a statuette on the dresser. Made of a deep orange crystal, perhaps andesine feldspar or a tangerine quartz, the intricate carving was clearly kri’ith but with extra-long, writhing headspines. Their simple, flowing robe reminded me of ancient Greece and hid little, showing the outline of full breasts, a soft stomach, and the hint of a dick with familiar beads dotted down the length. The figurine held a staff in one hand, and clasped the other between their breasts.

“What do you know?” Airida asked.

“Not a lot.” He didn’t need to know about whatever the fuck a mind-husker was. Or maybe he did; I didn’t know any more. “She’ll return soon, I’m sure. But hopefully I can still come by and chat?”