Page 14 of Starfighter’s Salvation

“You’re about to drug me in a parking garage and take me off the planet.”

“You consented.”

“Then stop arguing and stick me. People are waiting.”

He drew a flat device from his belt. The Starfighter swirl marked its surface.

“The injection will hurt. The sedative works quickly. Do not worry about losing your balance. I will catch you.”

Disgusting how badly I wanted to be in his arms right now. Despite everything.

He stepped closer. Close enough that I had to tip my head back. Close enough to smell his skin, feel his warmth, and practically swoon. I wanted to press my face to his chest and breathe. I wanted to bite his jaw. I wanted several things that weren’t appropriate in a staff parking garage.

Maybe I'd get to do all those things. Later. Maybe.

“Gina,” he said. My name sounded rough in his mouth. “Whatever you decide about me after you know everything, I will do everything in my power to protect you.” Pain moved through his eyes.

I put my hand over his where he held onto the injector. “Good. Do it.”

Cold metal touched the back of my neck. A sharp sting.

“Ow.”

“I warned you.” The injector clicked against the base of my skull. His other arm was already there, ready before I fell.

“Still rude.”

He chuckled as the garage tilted around me. My knees buckled and felt like they disappeared. Corvan caught me before I fell. Big arms. Hard chest. Careful hands.

Mine. The word filled my mind like an addiction I couldn't break, and I was too far gone to fight it.

5

Corvan, Earth to the Vega System

* * *

Gina slept through the first six hours of the crossing. I did not. Dekker’s ship had cleared the Gate ahead of us. I tried not to think about how close I'd been to losing her and failed. Every moment of the trip, I watched her sleep, watched her breathe, my obsession growing stronger now that she was real and in my arms. Which was not part of my plan.

Why did she have to be so fucking beautiful?

Why couldn't she be a mean old hag instead of the soft, caring female I had no defenses against? She made me so weak-willed, I couldn't even put her down. I carried her aboard my ship, her weight loose and trusting against my chest in a way I was not prepared to defend against.

Protective instinct had me lowering her onto the medical scanner as soon as we were out of Earth's orbit. She had a simple viral infection and the system optimized her health in less than three hours. Gate-space vibration traveled through the med berth frame in a low, constant tremor, and under every other noise surrounding me, I was completely focused on the gentle flow of air in and out of her lungs. I had started counting the breaths somewhere in the second hour. Sterile air carried the sharp mineral scent of the medical equipment, and beneath that, faint and warm, the scent of her skin drove me to distraction, made my cock hard and the urge to touch her nearly impossible to resist.

She did not take good care of herself on Earth. She worked too hard taking care of others and did not care for her own health or well-being. That would not be allowed to continue. She was mine now. I was beginning to understand the problem, and the problem had a stubborn set to her jaw, even in sleep.

I secured her in the med berth. Checked the safety straps twice. Confirmed her oxygen saturation, temperature, and cardiac rhythm — all of it steady now, all of it hers, and found I was completely unable to relax until her numbers came back at optimal levels. Then I sat beside her to make certain the cypher nanites didn’t cause a reaction. That was standard procedure. Holding her hand was not and brushing her golden hair from her forehead? Staring at her soft, pink lips? That was pure self-inflicted torture.

I couldn't help myself. Her fingers curled around mine while she slept, as if the choice belonged to sleep and not to her. Small hand. Short nails bitten down at the edges. A strip of adhesive marked the place where she'd cut herself somehow. I hated the small hurt more than made sense. She cared for everyone in reach and treated her own body like equipment that could be replaced after the mission. She’d have to stop doing that. I would see to it.

If she were mine. Which, as of right now, she was not.

I stared at our joined hands far too long, her pulse ticking against my palm, steady and alive and mine to guard. Wanting her had already changed everything. Pretending otherwise would not make me fit to fly beside her.

The ship moved through gate space. The medbay lights stayed low. Gina slept with her face turned toward me, blonde hair loose against the pillow, her mouth slightly open. I wanted that mouth with a directness that had outlived months of watching her from a screen and only sharpened now that she was close enough to touch. Fourteen months of training feeds hadn’t prepared me for the reality of her — the heat of her radiating up through the blanket. Her feminine scent already saturated the air of my ship and all my senses. I was never going to get her out of my system now. If I lowered my head a few inches, I could press my lips to the bonding mark at her nape. I knew the exact distance between my mouth and her mark. Mine. And still not mine at all.

Dekker’s ship was somewhere ahead of us in the dark. He would not have moved away from her. Wouldn't hesitate to kiss her. He'd told her as much. Offered her everything when I'd offered nothing.