Mercy snorted out a laugh. "I can fly anything."
The certainty in her voice sent heat racing through him that had nothing to do with dragon fire. She meant it. His fierce, impossibly competent mate who could probably pilot a ship with her eyes closed.
The hangar spread before them, Horris's personal shuttle gleaming under harsh work lights. Sleek lines and oversized engines, built for speed rather than cargo capacity. Perfect for running from angry pirates.
Mercy dove for the pilot's seat while he sealed the hangar door with strategic fire. Molten metal was harder to break through than locks. The shuttle's engines roared to life as Zane joined her on the speeder, Mercy's hands dancing across controls like she'd been born to them.
"Hold on," she warned.
The shuttle lurched forward, and the blast door began to open. Mercy threaded the gap with inches to spare, metal screaming against their hull as they scraped through before anyone could realize they were leaving. Then open space embraced them, stars wheeling past as she pushed the engines hard.
But Horris wasn’t done with them yet.
The pirate ship's weapons came online, pulse cannons swiveling to track their escape.
Mercy threw the shuttle into a spiraling dive that made his stomach relocate somewhere around his knees. Plasma fire seared past, close enough to paint their shields with warning lights.
"Where are we going?" she asked, hands never pausing in their dance across the controls.
Good question. They needed somewhere safe, and close. He had no idea where they were or the range of this thing. He needed somewhere he could explain about mates and bonds and everything they could be to one another without her trying to shove him out the airlock.
"I think know a place," he said, and gave her the coordinates.
9
Mercy's hands danced across the controls, muscle memory taking over as another barrage of pulse cannon fire streaked past their starboard side. The shuttle bucked and rolled under her guidance.
She laughed. This was flying.
The pirate ship hung in the viewport behind them, growing smaller by degrees but still very much in weapons range. Their gunners were persistent if nothing else, filling space with deadly light that painted her instruments in warning reds.
She threw the shuttle into a roll that pressed her back into the pilot's seat. G-forces tugged at her bruised face, sent fresh pain shooting through her burned fingers. But pain meant life.
"Come on, you piece of garbage," she murmured to the shuttle. "Show me what you've got."
The engines responded with a throaty roar that vibrated through the deck. Horris kept his personal transport in better shape than his main ship, all right. The coordinates Zane had given her glowed on the navigation display.
Far. Maybe too far for a shuttle's limited range. But she'd nursed dying ships across impossible distances before.
She could do this.
Another volley of plasma fire lit up the void. She rolled left, dove, pulled up hard enough to make her vision gray at the edges. The shuttle protested but held together. Good girl.
The pirate ship fell farther behind. Their weapons fire became sporadic, then ceased entirely as they passed out of effective range. She kept the engines at maximum burn for another ten minutes anyway, putting blessed distance between them and the people who'd wanted her blood.
Only when the proximity sensors showed empty space in all directions did she ease back on the throttle. Her shoulders screamed protest as tension finally released its grip.
"Holy shit, we did it." She turned in her seat to share the victory with Zane and found him watching her with an expression that stole the words from her throat. He lounged in the co-pilot's chair like he'd been born to occupy the space beside her.
But it was the look in his eyes that made her breath catch. Not the calculated charm of a bored lord. Not the careful mask he'd worn on her ship. This was something else entirely. Something that made heat pool low in her belly despite everything they'd just survived.
His perfect hair had gone wild during their escape. Smoke rose from his shoulders in lazy wisps. And his smile, stars help her, his smile was pure masculine satisfaction. Like a predator who'd successfully defended his territory.
There was a beat of perfect silence between them. His eyes, dancing with impossible flames, dropped to her lips.
How had she ever thought he was anything but a dragon?
Her tongue darted out without conscious thought, wetting suddenly dry lips. The air in the shuttle seemed to thicken, charged with electricity that had nothing to do with damaged systems or firefights. This was older, wild. The recognition of two people who'd been dancing around each other finally running out of reasons to keep their distance.
