Page 13 of Alien Healer’s Mate

Then they were walking again.

Fast.

Shit. Latharian legs were way longer than human ones, so she had to half-jog to keep pace with him as he led her through the corridors. There were fewer people now, and the walls weren’t all pale curves and metal artwork. Instead, they were heavy-duty panels and reinforced deck plating. The air had changed too. It was thinner and colder. Her nose wrinkled again, assaulted by the smell of hot rubber and something that smelled a lot like jet fuel.

Then the corridor opened up, and she stopped short.

“Well, that’s a whole vibe,” she breathed.

The shuttlebay was nothing like the cramped little hangars in movies. It was cathedral-sized, with arched supports that disappeared into the darkness overhead.

Shuttles and ships of every shape crouched on the deck as lights blinked along wings and underbellies. Crews moved in efficient clusters, their voices echoing in the vast space.

It was awe-inspiring, and god, she felt small.

“Don’t stop,” Kellat said, his hand settling into the small of her back.

Heat rolled up her spine before her brain could catch up. His palm was huge and warm through her borrowed sweater, as he steered her between the nearest ships.

She glanced sideways at him.

“Is one of these spaceships yours?” she asked, because silence had always made her skin itch. “Please tell me it’s not the little one. Little spaceships make me nervous. They look like they’re begging to be stepped on.”

He didn’t answer.

“Big ones make me nervous too, actually,” she continued, the words tumbling out. “Anything that leaves a planet voluntarily is basically a flying coffin, but you know what? I’m committed now. Space road trip. Whee.”

“It’s not a road trip,” Kellat sighed.

“You keep saying that.”

“Because it’s not.”

They turned a corner and headed for one of the shuttles. Matte black and angular, it was the size of a small warehouse, bristling with more weapons than she could count… turrets, barrels, stubby missile pods mounted along the flanks. The nose was flat and brutal, like it was designed to punch through atmosphere.

“That’s the medical shuttle?” she asked, her voice climbing a little. “That is not a medical shuttle. That’s what happens when a medical shuttle joins a street gang or something.”

Kellat’s hand pressed more firmly against her back, urging her toward the ramp extending from its belly.

“It’s my private shuttle.”

She blinked. “Of course you have a private murder-shuttle.”

“Get on the ramp.”

She swallowed and started walking.

The ramp was wide enough for three of her, low and lit with red running lights. Each step echoed back at her from the shuttle’s dark gut. Kellat stayed right behind her, close enough that she could feel the heat of him at her back. She had never felt so small and protected in her life. He was right there, huge and watchful, one hand hovering now at the curve of her waist like he was ready to catch her if she stumbled. Like he thought she might.

She didn’t know what to do with that.

“You know, most guys at least buy me dinner before they drag me onto their murder-shuttle. I’m just saying, I had fries. That counts. That was pre-murder-shuttle fries.”

“Delilah.” His voice was a low growl.

“What?”

“Stop talking.”