Page 24 of Ashes & Aether

“I am hiding the fact that I am the only thing keeping thousands of people from being eaten alive,” she replies, her voice steady, despite the rapid pulse fluttering at the base of her throat. “I don’t have the luxury of making friends, Orien. I don’t have the luxury of trusting an alien spymaster who looks at me like I am a puzzle he wants to break.”

“I don’t want to break you.” I lower my head, my gaze dropping to her deep-red lips. “I just want to see what happens when you finally stop pretending you are made of ice.”

Maggie’s breath hitches. Her gaze drops, mirroring mine, locking onto my mouth. The air between us thickens with an electric tension that makes the hairs on my arms stand up.

I can hear her heart racing. I can smell the sudden spike of adrenaline and something sweeter, something purely female and utterly captivating.

She wants me to close the distance. I can see it in the slight parting of her lips. I can feel it in the magnetic pull of her body leaning a fraction of an inch closer to mine.

If I kiss her right now, the fortress falls.

But like she said, I am a spymaster. I know the difference between a surrender and a temporary lapse in judgment. If I take the advantage now, she will hate herself for it tomorrow. She will build the walls twice as high, and I will lose the access I have spent these days cultivating.

I slowly pull back, lifting my hands from the table.

Maggie blinks, snapping out of the trance. She inhales sharply, her posture immediately stiffening. The pink flush on her cheeks deepens into a furious red.

“The antibiotics,” she says, her voice cracking slightly before she forces it back into its deadpan rhythm. “Can your ship carry six reinforced crates?”

“My ship can carry a small tank.” I flash her a predatory grin, entirely unbothered by her rapid retreat behind her professional barricades. “Six crates will not be a problem.”

“Good.” She steps around me, putting the width of the room between us. She refuses to look at my mouth again. “Coordinate with the quartermaster for the drop coordinates. Do not engage the enemy unless absolutely necessary.”

I smirk. “I make no promises regarding the enemy.”

“You will follow the parameters of the mission, Orien.”

“I will consider them as strong suggestions.” I execute a mocking, sweeping bow. “As always, it is a pleasure doing business with you, Commander.”

I turn and walk toward the blast doors. But just as they open, Trevor rolls past the hallway.

The rusty chassis catches the bunker lights, and the mechanical arm waves aimlessly. But the heavy, grinding squeak is completely absent. The drone glides across the concrete in utter silence.

I freeze.

Maggie stares at the open doorway, watching the silent drone disappear down the hall.

Slowly, she turns her head. Her blue eyes lock onto mine. They narrow into dangerous slits.

“Did you touch my drone?” she asks, her voice dropping to a terrifying whisper.

I arrange my features into a mask of perfect, innocent confusion. “I have no idea what you are talking about. I merely observed the machine.”

“It isn’t squeaking,” she pushes out through gritted teeth.

I shrug. “Perhaps it finally realized how annoying the sound was and repaired itself out of shame.”

“Robots do not experience shame.” Maggie takes a slow step toward me, a terrifying wrath beginning to uncoil behind her eyes. “You used alien technology on Trevor. I explicitly forbade Avaren interference with my automated defenses.”

I roll my eyes. “I did not give him a plasma cannon, Maggie. I gave him a drop of oil.”

Maggie doesn’t back down. “You compromised my equipment!”

“I performed basic maintenance!” I laugh, unable to contain my amusement. “The friction on that axle was going to shear the tread off within a moonfall. You should be thanking me.”

“I am going to shoot you.” She says it with absolute, terrifying sincerity.

“You’ll have to catch me first.” I step backward into the corridor. “I have antibiotics to fetch. Try not to miss me too much.”