Page 94 of Star Bringer
“Now, where’s the fun in that?” He stands up. “Speaking of which, I’m going to head back to the bridge before Ian comes looking for both of us.”
“You don’t actually think he’d be jealous if he found you here, do you?”
He flashes me a grin. “Nah, of course not. Ian knows I would never try anything withhisgirl.”
I grit my teeth. “I am nothisgirl. In fact, he specifically told me that he does not do relationships. So, I’m reliably informed that it’snevergoing to happen.”
“He’s running scared.”
“He doesn’t look scared. And he doesn’t act scared. And he’s not actually running anywhere.” I sigh. Why are we even talking about this? It’s not as though I want to be Ian’s “girl” anyway. Despite the fact that he does have a nice ass. A really nice ass, actually, and a face to die for.
All the same, I can’t help but ask, “So, say—just as a matter of academic interest—I did want to make Ian jealous. Which obviously I don’t. But how would I go about it?”
“You wouldn’t,” he answers dryly. “Not if you want to avoid bloodshed.”
Chapter 35
Rain
I watch Beckett as she works at the console. She’s a rebel—notused to bea rebel orwasa rebel, which I already knew—it’s not likeI was forced tobe a rebel, or evenI used to support the Rebellion but I’ve changed my mind. She activelyisa rebel. Right now. Someone intent on destroying the order of things, who doesn’t care who they kill or hurt in the process.
In other words, she’s everything the Sisterhood is not.
I should want nothing to do with her. But the truth is, when I’m near her, none of that matters. Nothing does but talking to her. Touching her. Kissing her.
I want to do all those things with her right now. But I don’t know where to start. Those things she said to Kali earlier—about her father and her brother? She’s suffered so much. Losing them and then getting captured and tortured herself?
Is it any wonder she’s a rebel? Any wonder she wants nothing to do with the Empire or the Corporation? I wouldn’t, either, if I’d had her life.
The fact that she’s still as kind as she is—and sheiskind, no matter what the others think—is a testament to just how good a person she is.
I can see the soft curve of her cheek, framed by the glossy black curls. The purse of her full lips as she considers something on the screen in front of her. The long, slender line of her back as she arches, stretching it out.
Then she rubs at the back of her skull, and I know she’s in pain. I’m filled with a need to help her. I tell myself it’s because I’m a member of the Sisterhood and that’s what we’re all about. But deep inside, I know it’s so much more than that.
“There can’t be anything between you. You know that, don’t you?”
Merrick’s voice is soft, and I can hear the pity in his tone. It hurts more than his anger and more than his disappointment.
I know he feels like I’ve let him down, and I hate that. But at the same time, I feel the stirring of my own rebellion deep inside. The part of me that has lived my life for other people knows I should shove it down and lock it up tight. But the other part…the other part of me wants to take it out for a spin and see where it goes.
Beckett gets to her feet and stretches, raising her arms above her head so the material of her jumpsuit is pulled taut, showing the lean lines of her figure and her small breasts. She needs to eat. But still, the sight of her sends warmth through every part of me. And my skin suddenly feels so sensitive.
“I’m getting coffee,” she announces. “Anyone else want some?”
She didn’t have to offer. It’s just one more sign that she’s a good person who’s had a lot of bad things happen to her. No one can condemn her for that.
As she passes, I jump to my feet. I carefully don’t look at Merrick, though I can feel him stiffening beside me. “I’ll help you.”
“Yeah, ’cause I can’t make coffee on my own.” But she smiles to let me know she’s teasing.
Or at least I think she’s teasing. It’s not as though I have any experience with this…whatever this is.
I’m aware of everyone’s eyes on us as I follow her out of the room. But I don’t look at any of them, because I have enough trouble figuring out what I’m thinking at the moment without trying to puzzle everyone else out as well.
We don’t talk on the way to the galley, and I have to wipe my sweaty hands down my thighs a couple of times. But once we’re inside, Beckett shuts the door and turns to me.
I nearly jump out of my skin. My heart is racing. My head is spinning. And my lungs feel like someone just set a giant narthompalus on my chest.
