“I’m getting a little sick of this hard-to-get thing, just so you know.”

The words floated to my ears before I saw the source. When I rounded the corner, and I turned into the hallway, my gaze fell on the General standing outside Roxanne’s door. I froze in place.

“Goodbye, General,” I heard her snap from inside her room.

He lingered for only a split second longer, and then he strode away with his head cockily lifted in the air. I resumed walking again with the sear of disproportionate anger in my gut. Ever since Morgan had announced he worked with Roxanne and stared me down, I’d harbored a deep dislike for the human. The idea of him in Roxanne’s bedroom made the edges of my vision go black with jealousy that I tried to keep tucked away.

Suddenly, as I had practically drawn level with her door, Roxanne’s head popped out from the opening. I halted, surprised. Her eyes widened with equal surprise, and we both stared wordlessly at one another. In the two weeks, we’d been onboard the humans’ ship, it was the first time we’d made eye contact, and neither of us seemed to want to break it.

Finally, the silence reached an uncomfortable length, and I was forced to speak.

“Good evening,” I said quietly.

Her delicious mouth parted, and she breathed, “Hi.”

Hearing her voice address me after so many days was like the first breeze on my cheeks after years of imprisonment. It was refreshing, exhilarating, and so arousing that I very nearly had to drop my hands to cover my sudden enlargement. Luckily, she didn’t seem to notice. Her soulful orbs pressed into mine with questions she didn’t ask, her lips still parted with the whisper of an invitation she did not offer.

I wanted to be in her room.

“Have you eaten?” I asked, trying to dispel some of the tension. “I am on my way to the dining hall.”

“No, I haven’t,” she said.

“Would you care to join me?”

The curved apples of her cheeks seemed to glow as brilliantly as the blade of my sword, which was dangling from my hip as always, and she smiled. “Sure.”

I waited for her to situate her things, exit the bedroom, and close the door behind her. Then, we walked side-by-side to the dining hall, saying nothing but comfortable in each other’s presence. When we reached the open double doors and the smell of food permeated the air around us, I gestured for her to enter first. She smiled appreciatively at me again and took the lead, and I couldn’t stop myself from admiring the way her supple rear swayed in her smoke-gray jumpsuit.

While the humans’ craft was, overall, a nice vessel, I hadn’t been able to adapt to the food. Earth cuisine was not to my liking, nor to the liking of my A’li-uud cohorts. It tasted chemical and manufactured, either too bold in flavor or too bland. I would have ordered some of my own men to take over control of the kitchens, but there was no Albaterran food onboard, so we were stuck with what we had. Nevertheless, knowing I was about to partake in a meal with Roxanne, I found myself actually looking forward to it.

We collected our trays piled with strange lumps the humans called mashed potatoes and a thick slab of something known as mutton before making our way to an empty table. Most of the crew was in the hall, but there were significantly more tables than necessary as the ship was built for a crew much larger than the one we had, so Roxanne and I had a measure of privacy thanks to the empty seats all around us. As we sat and began dining, I watched her.

She chewed gently and rhythmically, and she dabbed her mouth often with a napkin. Her elbows never rested on the table but instead remained tucked closely to her sides, and her forearms pressed into the table’s edge. The fork was held in her right hand between her thumb and her index finger while her middle propped against the utensil’s curvature, and she took smooth strokes through the clump of potatoes. Even the way she stabbed the meat was graceful, gliding the tines into the grain and tugging gently to separate one piece from the rest. Watching her eat was like watching a performance, and I was enthralled.

“Stop it,” she said finally. I wrenched my eyes from her hands and her mouth to look at her.

“Stop what?” I asked, confused.

“You’re staring,” she said. She flicked her fork toward my tray. “And you haven’t touched your food.”

I sniffed, glancing down at the mess in front of me. “This is not food,” I told her with a scoff. “When we get to Albaterra, I will make you a meal fit for a queen.”

Her movements slowed, and she looked back at me with muted delight on her lovely face. “You’re going to cook for me?” she asked softly.

“Yes, and you will never want to eat this food again.”

I had intended for the exchange to be light-hearted and witty, but her features were serious. It was not an unpleasant expression, yet it was certainly not the cheerful one I’d anticipated. I studied her, trying to figure out what she was thinking without asking.

“You’re doing it again,” she murmured. She wasn’t eating at all now, and her fork rested untouched on her tray. “Staring.”

“My apologies,” I murmured back. Despite my words, I didn’t look away, and she didn’t ask me to.

Without warning, the table jerked so violently it sent my tray skittering toward the edge, almost toppling it onto the ground. I whipped my head around and saw General Morgan perched heavily across from us. I’d been so wrapped up in Roxanne that I hadn’t even seen him approaching, and it was certainly not a welcome interruption.

“Don’t you two look cozy!” he crooned, a strained grin on his weather-worn face.

Roxanne was glaring daggers at him. Her fingers had curled around the fork again, and they were clutching so hard her fingertips were purple, and her knuckles were nearly the same color as my skin. I was sure she would have jammed that fork into his eyeball if she could have gotten away with it. Somehow, to see her so upset with Morgan brought a wave of tingling satisfaction crashing over me.

“Perhaps another time,” I told him. He slowly turned his head, pulling his stare away from Roxanne and fixating it on me. I offered him an expression of the same smug arrogance he’d given me when we’d first met. His grin melted away into a glower.

“I just wanted to make sure everything’s okay,” he said with sugary coarseness. “Roxanne said she wanted to be alone earlier, and she might not have wanted to hurt your feelings by telling you that.”

“I always prefer good company to solitude,” Roxanne shot icily. “Please leave.”

Morgan darkened, and he turned his scowl to her again. “We have something to discuss,” he hissed. He’d dropped all pretense of neighborly concern. “Human things.”

“I’m not discussing anything until I’m finished eating,” she said angrily.

“I think you need to remember I’m your boss, Ms. Rigby,” Morgan retorted in a silken tone.

Roxanne sneered. “You’re not my boss. I answer only to the Board.”

“And, as the only member of the Board on this ship, I represent the Board in its entirety.” He snapped his fingers and pointed to the double doors. “In the hall. Now.”

I was on my feet before I knew what I was doing. My tray, which had already been teetering on the table’s edge, crashed to the floor and sent bits of mush spattering over my boots. There was a thick rushing and an intense pounding in my ears as my heart raced with adrenaline, and my fingers curled into fists. Before I could say or do anything, though, something streaked past me.

Roxanne flew at Morgan, her hand plunging through the air. In slow motion, I watched her knuckles smash into his nose. It bent further and further to the side until a sickening crack marked a break, and Roxanne’s fist retreated. Morgan’s head fell forward as first a single droplet, and then an entire stream of blood blossomed from his nostrils, and he reached up to cup his injury with a roar of surprise and pain.

“Fucking bitch,” he cursed, glaring at her through streaming eyes. He twisted around and stormed from the hall, leaving a thin trail of blood behind him.

I turned to look at Roxanne. She was still beside me, on her feet and breathing heavily. Her fist was cradled in her other hand and pressed against her chest, and a light sheen of perspiration was beginning to bead along her hairline.

“I’m probably going to jail for that,” she panted.