Page 6 of He Will Always Love Me

“Not that,” I snap. “You couldn’t be so fortunate. It’s time you started pulling your weight on my ship. No one eats for free. For now, you’re a maid. You’ll start with my quarters, where I can watch you.”

Alana turns out to be a decent maid, but it also makes her bold. Too bold. By the third day of her new duties as my servant, I have her clean the kitchen.

“Doesn’t your cook ever wipe the grease off the heating elements?” she gripes. “You’re not supposed to season the food with a layer of filth.”

I narrow my eyes. “That’s what you’re for. Unless you’re suggesting our food is not good enough for you. I can stop offering you any if it’s such torture. You can return to your chair and your straps. Remind me how long it takes a human to starve again? I’d like to plan for a landing at the appropriate time so we can dispose of your remains. I find the incinerator a troubling solution as the smell lingers for weeks.”

Alana simply rolls her eyes.

She seems utterly unaware that she is a measly human. She doesn’t even show fear the way that she did at the beginning. It both infuriates and amazes me. To be so weak and so bold, all at the same time.

“I just want to be certain that I’m supposed to remove it. It’s like an archaeological log here of every meal you’ve ever eaten. I don’t want to disturb such a historic site.”

I had forgotten the human tendency to employ sarcasm. I don’t enjoy it.

“Listen, human. You’re still my prisoner.” My hand snaps out to take a fistful of her black hair, yanking until her head tilts to the ceiling. Her exposed neck, I notice, is long and smooth.

She swallows, a tremor of fear returning. I smile and let her go.

“Oh, so I’m your prisoner,” she mutters. “I thought I was your maid.” But she obediently starts wiping down the surface of the convection laser oven.

“You’re whatever I want you to be,” I growl. “Whenever I want you to be it.”

The color drains slightly from her face again, and I realize what she’s thinking. Are humans always so sex-driven? I can’t help but wonder why she’s so quick to assume that one of my first demands will be to warm my bed. I’ve never coerced a woman to entertain me in that regard, and I don’t intend to start now.

She’s an attractive woman, certainly. I’m sure she’s had plenty of attention there. Her jet-black hair is shiny and smooth, so glossy it gives the appearance of luxury. Her features are delicate, feminine, and gentle, even if it doesn’t seem to match her sharp tongue. Her gray eyes are perhaps her best feature, clear and startlingly vibrant despite having virtually no color.

Though I’m not sure it’s her eyes themselves that appeal to me as much as what lies behind them. Sometimes when I look into them, it feels almost like a window to a place I want to go. A place that seems familiar, though I’d also swear I’d never seen it before. Perhaps my mind has not, but my soul has. If I could figure out how to get there through her, I would.

Or perhaps you’ve been on this ship too long and it’s addled your brain.

“How much longer?” I bark. She jumps, startled, then hunches over the stove and rolls her eyes.

I can’t decide if I’m thrilled or furious at the familiarity she treats me with these days.

“It’s going to take me some time to clear five years of residue,” she warns. “An hour? Then I still have to do the floors.”

I nod. “I’ll be back. See that it’s finished. You’re not to leave this kitchen, by the way. Not that you’d have anywhere to go.”

Considering we’re flying through space, what’s she going to do? Launch herself to her death? But I don’t trust her to not interfere with our ship's functions if she gets a chance, even if it’s ultimately just a nuisance for us. I’d like to think she isn’t stupid enough to be so bold, but I can’t be certain.

She nods, and I head to the crew room to review our course for the day. I pointedly ignore Renari, realizing this is the first time in our long, shared history that we’ve been at odds with each other like this.

He clearly notices, because when I return to the kitchen to check on Alana, he follows behind and stops me in the corridor just outside.

“She’s still with us,” he points out needlessly.

“I will not justify myself to anyone, Renari,” I snap. “Not even you.”

He puts his hands up in a conciliatory gesture. “My apologies, Captain.”

There’s something so obscenely formal about it all, considering it’s coming from my oldest friend. But I just nod, aware of the gulf that is forming between us.

Alana smirks when I enter the kitchen. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Get back to work,” I growl.

Maybe Renari is right. She is a distraction. I won’t deny that. A part of me enjoys it, but that doesn’t make it any less true.

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