Neither did he.
They stayed there, a breath apart, and the kiss in the corridor had been nothing compared to this. That had been heat and desperation and two people crashing into each other. This was something else entirely?—
“Fuel consumption update,” Fred announced through the cockpit speakers. “Current burn rate is within acceptable parameters. Estimated reserves upon arrival: forty-two percent. I thought you should know.”
The moment shattered like glass, and Raaze pulled back.
You did that on purpose, she thought at Fred.
I have no idea what you mean, Fred replied, his tone suspiciously innocent. I was simply providing relevant operational data.
You absolute bastard.
You’re welcome.
Raaze was already standing, moving toward the cockpit door. He paused in the threshold, one hand on the frame.
“Get some sleep,” he said. “Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”
Then he was gone, the door hissing shut behind him.
She sat in the pilot’s chair, staring at the star field again, her skin still tingling where he’d touched her.
“I hate you,” she said out loud, glaring at Fred’s cartridge.
“No, you don’t,” Fred replied. “You hate that I’m stopping you from making a bad mistake.”
She ignored him. She didn’t have an answer for that.
11
Chapter 10
The freight dock at Ithaan’Dor was exactly what Fred had promised: absolute draanthing chaos.
Ships from half a dozen companies were crammed into berths designed for maybe four, crews shouting over each other in three languages Raaze recognized and at least two he didn’t. Cargo stacked on every flat surface, crates blocking walkways, loaders weaving between obstacles like every one of them was late for something.
Fred had slid the H4-RPY into a berth in the middle of the rush, pinging a legitimate delivery code Fred had acquired through his usual methods. Nobody looked twice. The ship was just another freighter in a sea of freighters, and they were just another crew.
Cait walked beside him with a forged delivery data-slate tucked under her arm, her stride matching the harried pace of every other contractor on the dock.
There were other humans working the bay. Not many, but enough that she didn’t stand out the way she might have on Venrexx Prime. A female with dark hair was arguing with a Latharian supervisor about weight limits, while two males wrestled a crate onto a loader, swearing creatively.
He clocked them all, filed them away, and kept moving.
The route Cait had mapped took them through the main dock, past the secondary loading area, and into a service corridor that ran parallel to the facility’s spine.
From there, it was supposed to be simple: find the access panel for the ventilation shaft, pop it open, crawl through the maintenance run, and drop into the archive from above. Bypass the checkpoint entirely. In and out before anyone knew they’d been there.
Raaze’s shoulders tightened the second he clocked the human male’s stare from across the bay. He was watching Cait. Worse, he was watching Cait with the kind of hunger that Raaze recognized. Primal. Carnal.
The draanthic wasn’t even subtle about it, eyes dragging down the line of Cait’s body like he had the right. A hot spike of jealousy hit him right under the ribs. Moving without thinking, he closed the distance until he loomed directly behind her. The male’s gaze snapped up, met red eyes and the promise of violence behind them, and suddenly found the far wall fascinating.
Raaze grunted, the sound low and rough in his throat. Smart move.
Cait’s head tilted. “Problem?”
“Nah.” He shrugged, keeping his voice bored even as his pulse thudded with rage. “Just stretching my legs. These corridors are cramped as draanth.”
