“You’re pretty…”

Raisa shook her head as she remembered his words. Not so much what he said but the difficulty the words seemed to bring him. Poor Jackson. Being a soldier had clearly taken its toll on him.

Raisa had seen such injuries before—one too many blows to the head without prompt medical treatment caused the wits to slow. It was too bad. He seemed like a nice guy. Clearly, he was the ship muscle, evident by his incredible build. And he was handsome. Well, that really didn’t have anything to do with anything. She supposed a person didn’t need wits to fight, not really, not when he had brute strength on his side.

She did her best to wash with a cloth and bowl without getting too much water on the decontaminator floor. Even so, it felt good to be clean. Bending over still hurt, but the healing bruise over her ribs was doing what it was meant to.

“I found clothes,” Jackson said from the other side of the decontaminator door. She liked the sound of his deep voice. “You look to be about Violette’s size.”

His words were calm and confident, as they had been when they first spoke, not stuttering and strange like they’d been when walking back from the dining hall. Maybe she’d misjudged, and her first impression was correct. He wasn’t dimwitted, only an extreme germaphobe.

“Who else is on this ship?” she asked, keeping the conversation going.

“Viktor’s brother Lucien is our communications man.”

“They’re Dere, aren’t they? It looks like they have yet to go through their chrysalis.” The opaque complexion and red tinted eyes gave it away.

“I don’t believe they will. They’re half human.” Jackson’s voice seemed to come from the direction of the bed. “Lochlann is our captain. His wife, Alexis, is our intelligence officer. These are their quarters. Dev and his wife Violette are security officers. She sometimes helps to pilot the ship. That’s everyone. We’re a small crew.”

“And you?”

“I am also a security officer.”

“Why so much security? Are you transporting something important?” She wondered what kind of cargo they could be carrying to warrant so much protection.

“How did you begin formulating recipes?” Jackson avoided answering.

Raisa tried to open the door wide enough to peek through, but it didn’t stop as she pressed the button. It opened completely, revealing her naked body to Jackson.

The wet cloth floated in the bowl and wouldn’t be big enough to cover much anyway. He sat on the corner of the bed, facing her. She gasped, looking for a way to cover up. Her foot bumped the bowl of dirty water, sloshing a little onto the decontaminator floor. She tried to cover her breasts with her hands, not that she was necessarily modest, but there was something powerful happening between them that caused her to tremble.

Cooler air hit her damp skin, and she shivered. Jackson didn’t turn away as he stared at her. His breathing audibly deepened. His lips parted, and his eyes narrowed as they swept over her form.

She opened her mouth to speak but he stood, cutting off her words before they could even make it past her throat. His eyes lifted and met hers. He came toward her like a heat-seeking missile toward a star.

“I…” He stopped before her. She shivered anew.

Jackson lifted his hand to her face, as if testing her reaction to his touch. The warmth of his fingers was a stark contrast to the chill. Her breathing deepened. She lifted a hand away from her chest and placed it on his. His fingers moved down her cheek to her neck, where his palm flattened against her shoulder. The movement was torturous and slow. She knew she should stop and consider her situation, but logic had no place in how she was feeling. Every nerve seemed to spark beneath her skin, enticing her toward him like a magnet to metal.

Missiles to stars? Magnets to metal? When did she begin thinking like a bad poet?

Once she touched Jackson, she couldn’t pull away. Her head tilted back and he took the invitation to skim his hand down her chest to cup a breast. She inhaled softly as his palm hit the aching tip. With each breath, her nipple rubbed his calloused hand, sending pleasure over her. His other hand touched her stomach, lightly running over where the healing bruise had formed. It created a shell of sorts around her nerves, and she couldn’t feel that touch as deeply. Her lips remained parted and she waited for him to kiss her. She wanted the hand on her stomach to move lower, to where her thighs guarded her sex.

“I’ve had my shots. I can’t get pregnant,” was all she could think to say when he didn’t move his body closer.

He seemed to be struggling with an inner turmoil. Finally, he moaned, “Me, too,” followed by a desperate sound as he captured his mouth with hers.

His kiss was both passionate and gentle. Her back hit the doorframe of the decontaminator. The sharp edge pressed into her skin, but she didn’t want his lips to stop.

Her hands were trapped between her breasts and his chest. His hands slid down her damp sides to her hips, only to pull her forward against his arousal. The full length of him was unmistakably hard.

Without seeming to use much effort, he cupped her ass and lifted her off the ground to better angle her hips to his. This drew her center up along his shaft. The hot feel of his erection through his clothes rubbed against her in a way that was all too pleasurable. She wriggled her arms free and wrapped them around his neck to help support her weight. His hips rocked forward, as if he could already feel himself inside her. She reached between them, cupping his arousal.

“Jackson, the guys could use your— Oh, sacre—sorry, sorry, I didn’t see anything!” a woman exclaimed in obvious shock. A slap sounded, followed by another. “What’s wrong with the door, it won’t let me out.” The slapping became more frantic. “Why won’t it let me out?”

Raisa braced herself, too shocked to move.

“Computer, open door,” the woman ordered. The computer didn’t answer.

Jackson released Raisa and firmly urged her into the decontaminator before standing in front of the door to block her nudity.

“Violette, the door is not going to work until the power cycles back around,” Jackson said.

“So,” Violette drawled. “How’s it going? Anything new with you, Jackson?”

Jackson didn’t answer.

Raisa stared at Jackson’s back. She inhaled deeply and held her breath in an attempt to slow her breathing. If this Violette woman hadn’t interrupted them, she would not have stopped what was happening. Even now, she could feel the sting of his kisses and the pleasure of his hands. Her body ached to continue, so much so that she didn’t even feel the pain in her ribs.

“Who’s your friend?” Violette asked, as if Jackson’s silence didn’t bother her.

“Raisa,” she answered loudly. Raisa moved her hand around Jackson and blindly waved. “Nice to meet you.”

Violette laughed, but Raisa felt the woman touch her finger. “And you as well.”

“Thank you for letting me borrow clothes,” Raisa said, remembering what Jackson had said earlier.

“How about I turn around so you have a chance to wear them?” Violette offered.

Jackson stepped aside and crossed to the bed. Raisa slowly followed him. She glanced at Violette. The taller woman stood with her back to them. Her brown hair curled to her shoulders. She wore tight brown pants with a red top that had a triangle pattern cut out over her back. It left her skin around her waist bare. Green markings encircled her waist, as if tattooed into her flesh.

Jackson handed her a stack of clothes, and she realized she was staring at the woman while standing naked. The black pants fit all right but were a little long at the ankles. The black shirt was adjustable by white cross-laces along the arms and sides.

As she pulled the strings near her waist to tighten them, she said, “Done.”

Violette turned. Mischievous green eyes met hers. “Looks good on you. Go ahead and keep them.”

“Thank you.” Raisa glanced down at herself and then at Jackson, who still didn’t speak.

“Doesn’t she look good, Jackson?” Violette prompted.

“Yes.” The answer was short and matter-of-fact.

“Isn’t he just a charmer?” Violette laughed, only to sarcastically add, “A man of many words.”

Jackson made a soft, unamused sound.

“Take it easy,” Violette told Jackson. “I’m only teasing.” Then to Raisa, she said, “Must be a security officer thing. My husband can be a man of few words as well.”

“What did you need help with?” Jackson asked.

“What? Oh, yeah.” Violette nodded. “The guys need you to help move a metal grate, so they can get behind the wall. Have you seen the back corridor yet? It’s beginning to look like a warzone. I’m beginning to question if they actually know what they’re doing, or if Viktor and Alexis just guess and hope for the best.”

Jackson went to the door and tried the hand scanner. It didn’t work.

“They will send someone when I don’t return. I told them I’d be right back.” Violette moved toward the cage in the middle of the room and wrapped her hand around a metal bar. “This ship is just…” She didn’t finish the thought but shook her head in what looked to be disapproval.

Raisa watched her walk around to the other side of the cage. She found herself following her. A small living area was set up around the corner. She hadn’t looked at it before. Two black couches with red throw pillows stretched nearly all the way across the alcove. A viewing screen had been mounted in front. Violette sat on one of the low couch backs, before letting herself fall onto the cushions. Her feet hung over the back, kicking lazily.

“You never think about how much we rely on electricity until you don’t have it,” Raisa said by way of conversation.

“Especially out here in the deep black,” Violette agreed. “No transmission waves to watch. No VR. One can only listen to Jackson and Dev running around the corridors exercising for so long.”

“We will have to watch each other for signs of isolation sickness.” Jackson crossed his arms over his chest. It was becoming a familiar stance. “With no distractions, this could be a long ride.”

“I have a natural knack for fixing mechanical things,” Raisa offered.

Violette leaned up, letting her feet drop to the couch so she could study Raisa.

“What do you mean?” Jackson asked.

“It’s always come easy to me. I just understand mechanical things—engines, personal droids, cleaning droids, generators, appliances, and even electrical systems.” Raisa moved to sit on the couch but didn’t fall onto the cushions like Violette, instead choosing to walk around before taking a seat.

“Are you…” Violette tilted her head as she studied her. “Angelion?”

“Half,” Raisa answered. “How did you know that? No one ever guesses.”

“Gil, the mechanic on a ship I used to captain, was Angelion,” Violette said. “He could tighten bolts without touching them, sense when something wasn’t right behind a wall, and was one of the grumpiest men I’d ever worked with—not that you’re grumpy. He was one of the best mechanics I’ve ever seen.”

Raisa gave a small nod.

“My husband is half Bevlon. That’s not going to be a problem for you, is it?” Violette asked. Bevlons and Angelions were ancient enemies.

“Not at all. I barely knew my father,” Raisa said. “I have no interest in ancient battles.”

“Glad to hear it.” Violette nodded. “Jackson, you should let her take a look at the ship. Trust me. Alexis and Viktor need all the help they can get.”

Raisa glanced up at Jackson. “I would like to help. It’s the least I can do.”

He gave her a small smile and nodded once. “As soon as you feel up to it.”

“Can you fix the door?” Violette asked.

“Not if it doesn’t have a power supply.” Raisa couldn’t create electricity, only direct where it flowed.

“Hey, did you space cadets lock yourselves in?” Rick called from the other room.

“Rick!” Violette hopped up from the couch. “Don’t let the door shut. It’s broken.”

“I have to do everything around here,” Rick teased. “Don’t worry, ladies, Rick is here to rescue you.”

Jackson waited for Raisa to follow Violette before walking behind her. Rick stood in the doorway, his hand pressed to the top of the frame as if he alone kept the door from sliding shut.

“Oh, I guess I’ll save you too, big guy,” Rick joked.

Raisa found the man both charming and cocky. He had an easy nature that was welcoming, if not slightly inappropriate, which was great in a social situation. But as a spaceship pilot? She wasn’t sure this guy was serious enough to handle a big piece of equipment.

He winked at her. “What do you know, there was a pretty lady underneath all that grime.”

Jackson stood a little bit closer to her. The heat radiating off him only reminded her of what they’d been interrupted doing. “Raisa is going to assist us in repairs.”

“Good deal.” Rick stepped out into the corridor and pet the metal wall. The door remained open. “My sweet lady needs all the help she can get.”