Ghwenn awoke feeling refreshed and rested. It had been a while since she’d enjoyed an uninterrupted period of slumber. During her escape, she’d woken at every tiny blip of the ship’s computer. On the way station, she kept moving around lest someone find her. Even when she snuck aboard the Gypsy Moth, she slept in snatches, knowing she could be discovered at any time.

It was rather surprising she slept at all given the man they’d entrusted her to. Yet…his gruff nature, and his lack of interest in her, provided a rather soothing relief.

He truly wanted nothing to do with her. She might not be able to control his mind, but she could feel his disdain. Yet that wasn’t the only thing lurking inside him. Abrams was in pain, too.

She wondered if it was on account of his scars. They puckered the skin of his body. Badges of honor, or something else? Asking would probably result in him getting annoyed again. A constant state for him she’d wager.

As her limbs woke, she stretched in the big bed that no longer appeared so neat. When her jailor went to bathe, she’d eyed the tucked sheets. The single pillow. The mattress that seemed to whisper, “Ghwenn. Come and sleep on me.”

There were many things she should have done. Looked for an escape route. A weapon.

She chose to rest.

Escape would only mean they’d lock her away more securely. And besides, where would she go?

As to a weapon? She had no interest in killing anyone. Unless someone tried to touch her. Which he hadn’t. Her jailor had not come to bed at all.

I wonder where he slept?

Rolling over she let out a startled yell as she saw Abrams staring at her. The man crouched alongside the bed, dressed in a clean tunic and wearing a by now familiar scowl.

Pity, he could almost be handsome if you ignored the scars, the bald head, the fact that he had plain brown eyes, and oh, his humanity. There was a word for Driadalys that copulated with alien species. Disowned.

“You stole my bed,” he grumbled.

“Did not. As you can see, it remains in the same spot.” She tucked her hands under her cheeks, snuggling into the pillow.

“I was supposed to sleep in the bed.”

“You didn’t mention that.”

“My room. Should have been obvious.” He glared.

“If you didn’t like me in it, then you should have tossed me out.” But he hadn’t.

How interesting. The rude man should have had no problem dumping her on the floor, yet he hadn’t. Why?

“Next time, I will,” he announced, getting to his feet.

“Except there won’t be a next time because you will have someone bring a second bed. We’ll need some curtains, as well.”

“Curtains for what? Ain’t got no windows.”

“For privacy, you dolt.”

“Insulting me now, are you?” He simmered. She didn’t need to read his emotions to see his body tensing.

She smirked. “You make it so easy.” She pushed herself up to a sitting position. “What’s for morning repast?”

“Get your own breakfast.”

He turned away from her, his sleek jumpsuit molding to his body, snug in the thighs and across the broad shoulders.

“Since you have nothing prepared, then I shall bathe first.”

Unlike him, she didn’t parade her attributes. She entered the bathing chamber, closed the door, then stripped.

However, before she could enter the shower, she felt a change in the air.

She whirled to find Abrams standing in the doorway.

“What are you doing?” she squeaked.

“Keeping an eye on you to make sure you don’t do something stupid.”

“This is sexual harassment.” Her hands flew to cover her intimate zones. Especially between her legs.

“Nothing sexual about it, pixie. Ain’t got no interest in you. I’m married.” He waggled his finger with its heavy metal band.

“I’m sure your wife wouldn’t approve of you ogling a female who is bathing.”

“I wouldn’t be looking at you at all if you’d stop arguing and get in the damned unit. Move. Clean yourself. I ain’t got all day.”

She backed away from him, unable to turn and give her posterior. She entered the cleansing stall and lost sight of Abrams as the unit sealed shut.

Once the unit finished cycling and her skin tingled, she stepped out to find him gone, but a loose robe woven of dull gray thread lay on the countertop. She popped it over her head, the sleeves of it long, the hem even longer. It tangled in her feet as she entered the main bedroom area.

She immediately noted him sitting at a table. Two trays before him.

So much for his claim she could get her own food.

He pointed. “Sit.”

Hunger had her obeying. She tore into the strange meal, not recognizing the cuisine but enjoying it nonetheless. Especially a salty strip of meat. It tasted especially good drizzled with a sugary syrup.

Once done, he wiped his mouth, cleared their trays—she having finished long before him—and announced, “Time to get to work.”

“Bye.” She waved at him, only to yelp when he grabbed her wrist. “What are you doing?”

“You’re coming with me.”

“Why? Just leave me in the room.”

“I am not leaving you here to plot. Can’t watch you if I can’t see you.” He pulled a thin cord from his pocket and began winding it around her wrist, securing it snugly before tying it to his belt.

Leashed. Like a pet. She tugged. “You can’t be serious about this. I am not an animal.”

“Says you. You want me to trust you, then you’re gonna have to prove yourself.”

“By following you around obediently? I feel sorry for your wife.”

The words snapped him, and she found herself forcibly slammed against a wall. The breath huffed out of her as he held her dangling.

His lips pulled into a snarl. “Don’t talk about my wife.”

She couldn’t reply, but her wide eyes must have satisfied him because he released her, and she heaved in a huge breath.

Smart would have been biting any further retort. Where he was concerned, she lost all her wits.

“When I return to my world, I see we’ll have to adjust our entry on humans. You’re not as nice a race as you’ve been portrayed,” she subtly insulted.

“Don’t you mean we’re not all suckers?” He sneered. “How’s it feel not being able to control what people think of you?”

She couldn’t admit she found it rather fascinating. From a young age, she discovered she could manipulate those around her. Father and a few others being the exception. She could always get what she wanted.

It might have led to her being spoiled.

She angled her chin. “People can think what they like. You are making the rather wrong assumption that I care.”

“Then that makes two of us. Let’s go.” He yanked on the tether as he headed for the door, only she dug her heels in.

“I can’t go out like this.”

“Like what? You’re wearing a robe.”

“That doesn’t fit.” Not to mention it lacked undergarments. It was downright unthinkable she exit into any public areas so inadequately clothed.

“It covers you. That’s the important part.”

“It is practically see-through.”

He squinted. “No, it’s not.”

“I need shoes.” She lifted the skirt and poked her foot at him.

“Your old ones are kicking around here.” He ducked and reached under a desk area, dragging them out.

“I insist you properly clothe me.”

“Captain said I had to watch you, not be your personal valet. So stop your bitching, get your shoes on, and let’s go.”

“No.” Since she couldn’t use mind tricks against him, she had to resort to other means.

She sat down.

He blinked at her. “I will drag you.”

She threw herself sideways and wrapped her arms around the column supporting the table.

“Seriously?” He sighed. He yanked on the rope.

She closed her eyes and concentrated.

Strength.

Her muscles tensed.

He tugged again. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Unwavering strength.

She might have kept the mantra going forever if he’d not straddled her. Her concentration broke as she opened her eyes to see him over her body, reaching for her laced fingers.

“Get off me,” she squealed. Never mind he didn’t mean his actions sexually, she reacted. Letting go of her own volition, she pummeled at him and her legs thrashed. She shoved at him.

Might as well shove at a boulder.

He didn’t budge, but he did stare at her.

She stilled beneath him.

“How did you do that?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“Get strong enough to hold on.”

“You can’t seriously expect me to spill all my secrets.”

His expression twisted. “And this is why you can’t be trusted.”

He went to lever himself upward, off her, and some instinct had her flinging her arms around his neck. She hung on to him.

“What are you doing?” He froze, his discomfort palpable.

“Sticking close. It is what you ordered.”

“Not that close.” He sat and went to pry her arms away.

Strength.

He pulled, but she held on.

“Let go, pixie,” he growled.

With her seated in his lap, her face loomed near his. “But you were the one who said I had to remain close. Is this close enough?”

“I know what you’re doing.” Abrams turned from her. “It won’t work.”

“What won’t work?” she whispered against his jawline, acting rather immodestly, but she didn’t fear for her virtue. He’d made it clear he honored his wife, which made his discomfort at her proximity all the sweeter.

She squirmed in his lap, letting the robe ride up her bare legs. Noticing his eyes shifting to them.

It wasn’t the only thing that shifted.

Her gaze widened in mock outrage. “That is a most unseemly reaction for a married man. What would your wife think?”

As expected, the words made him snap. He shoved her roughly from his lap. His abrupt stand yanked her arm upward.

For a moment she thought he would drag her, but he used his hand to grab the rope and squeeze.

To her surprise the rope parted, smelling burnt, while a fine ash sifted down.

He stalked to the door and exited.

Victory. She wouldn’t have to spend any time with him.

So wouldn’t you know she missed him.