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“I guess that’s why I’m asking. Yes.”
“Kindness? Eh, that’s debatable,” she says with a chuckle. “He’s loyal. He loves hard. He’d die for the Ka’lakka, not because he’s a warrior, but because he loves Mak. It’s hard to answer when I never see him with a female. Warriors are different around their mates. You have to decide for yourself. Maybe it’s not your way, but you should try trusting in the spirit.”
“I’m sorry for asking,” I sigh. “I shouldn’t put you in such an awkward situation.”
Ruka wipes her forehead, miming that she was sweating bullets.
“It takes everything in me to compliment that big-headed idiot,” she jokes with a grin.
I don’t know why I thought that asking outright would give me the answer I’m looking for when it comes to Kalla. I’m the one who was in a marriage with someone I knew intimately for years, only to discover that I made a huge mistake.
“Thanks for the tour. Is there anything I can do around here to help? It seems like I’ll have nothing to occupy my time.”
“Sorry, but there’s not much to be done on a small craft like this. There are Kar’Kali books on the ship’s system if you wanna kill time. Shouldn’t be too hard to translate them. I don’t think your mate wants me giving you stinger cleaning and recharging duties…”
“No, I think not,” I mutter. “That’s fine. I’ll let you get back to your work.”
I return to the room and flip through the books that Ruka mentioned— military histories, the ancient history of Kar’Kal, and folktales. They’re heavily detailed, apparently a standard collection for education purposes that all Kar’Kali-made ships are installed with. I find that the system has meditation walk throughs, too, so I try those out. It’s surprisingly relaxing— a combination of yoga-like stretches and mental exercises. Afterwards, I explore Kalla’s belongings, only to find they tell me nothing about him aside from the fact that his clothes are huge, and I have a perverse attraction to his natural smell. I conclude that if I spend more than a week on this ship with nothing to do, I might go insane.
Kalla must be avoiding me if I haven’t seen him once since last night. I was too busy arguing for my ex’s life to argue for my release from this ship. I should’ve expected that a man who argues with his own king would be difficult to talk down from a fight. I toy with the idea of seeking him out, but I’m afraid of how it will go. He’s hard-headed and passionate. The way he looks at me like a starved animal is enough to make any woman quake. At least he hasn’t pushed the physical side of things, even if his desire for me radiates off him in waves.
When the lights start to lower in the room, signaling that a full day has passed, I begrudgingly decide to investigate the clothes that Kalla offered for my use. There’s a trove of lovely things inside the chest in his closet. Some wouldn’t fit me without alteration, but many of them are an ultramodern fabric that suits any sizing. I choose an easy dress that comes with matching leg and arm warmers. It seems perfect for the chilly halls of a spaceship. The blouse and skirt I was wearing when I went searching for Raffa is sweaty and stinks of the gases that were swirling on the airfield while the ships prepared for launch. There’s a laundrybot in the tiny bathing stall that I drop them into, hoping I see them again at some point. They were beautiful gifts from Lalo, symbols in my heart of her generosity. I would hate to lose them.
I take advantage of the shower that thankfully functions exactly like those I found onThe Primordial Avenger. I’m probably one cold shower away from a nervous breakdown, so the fact that I know how to alter the temperature without help is a small blessing.
Being in the shower reminds me of the Kar’Kali I encountered at the palace baths. It seems so intimate to think of him when I’m naked, just like how strangely intimate our conversation was. Why won’t the thought of him leave me be? Was it his deep, dark voice or his thoughtful words that wrap around my memory? Or was it just because I was so vulnerable when he caught me off guard? Whatever it was, I’ll certainly never mention it to Kalla. His possessive energy and intense personality make me sure he’d interrogate every male in the king’s army to find out who dared speak to his mate while in the nude and tell her to ‘be good’.
The way that one comment made my stomach flip…
I’m glad I opted to emerge from the room fully clothed, because when I do, my mate is entering. His eyes rove all over me, blatantly assessing my form. He must like what he sees because he looks hungry when our eyes meet again. Words catch in my throat, and I feel a familiar tightening in my abdomen.
He remembers himself finally, looking away. He busies himself with unstrapping his boots. It’s a relief to no longer feel the heat of his gaze on me.
“What are you doing?”
“Perhaps I give the impression that I never relax, but I sleep with my boots off like everyone else.”
“No, I mean, why are you in here?”
“This is my room.” He leaves his boots neatly beside the closet and proceeds to unzip his armored suit.
“Stop right there! W-Where did you sleep last night?” I demand.
He pauses, the zipper hanging open where it follows the line from his neck to his shoulder. That glimpse inside is enough to confirm what I already expected; his shoulders are tightly sculpted, and I’m sure the rest of him is the same.
“I didn’t.”
“I assumed there was an unspoken understanding that I am not sleeping with you,” I say, trying not to let the sympathy I feel for his long day without rest. Whendidhe last sleep, then? It’s not my fault he won’t take a break, and it’s not my business.
“It couldn’t be clearer that you don’t wish to touch me,” he says icily, “but this ship was not made for five, let alone six. And a male belongs with his mate… even if his mate wants him to drop dead.”
“I don’t want to hear you use our mating bond as an excuse for anything from here on out,” I say. “Whether you like it or not, I’m a human, and I don’t feel whatever you’re feeling. That means you can’t treat me like a mate and apply whatever rules you made up in your head about our relationship.”
“I’m sorry that the mating bond between us is such a burden to you,” he says, “but I didn’t choose to torture you with it. I can’t take it away, and I wouldn’t if I could. By destiny’s path, you are mine. If you’d rather hate me than love me, so be it, but you’re mine all the same and therefore you’ll remain here until I figure a way to see you safely back toThe Rightful Heir.”
How he could think he can snap his fingers and have me wearing the clothes he gives me, staying in his room, and sleeping beside him all while hating him and not touching him is mind-boggling to me. He doesn’t care about what I feel and think so long as I’m here? Does he think a mate is an object you pack up in the suitcase when you go on trips? Somehow, the prospect of having everything I do dictated to me is even worse than the nightmare of being ignored and unloved that I broke away from in my last marriage.
“Go ahead and do that, and when you do, I’ll go wherever the fuck I please once I’ve escaped your sight!”
