Page 12 of Wrath

“That is odd,” Wrath said after swallowing his mouthful. “I would have expected the opposite, considering the madness of dozens if not hundreds of fighters and chasers flying around during a battle, and you being one of them, trying not to get blown up or crashing into one of the bigger vessels.”

“You would think so, but I have a much smaller surface to worry about getting hit. A frigate cannot avoid a lot of the firepower coming its way,” I explained. “You have to completely rewire your brain when dealing with something so massive. How you handle incoming attacks rarely involves just dodging or blowing up your opponent. You rely heavily on your fighters and the people manning the battle stations. That makes me feel helpless.”

Wrath tilted his head to the side and gave me an odd look. “Don’t your crewmates make you feel confident that they know what they’re doing? That they’ve got you covered?”

I smiled, guessing what worry that comment had sparked in him. “I’ve been blessed to have always worked with the best. I’ve never had to question my teammates’ ability to pull their weight. But there’s not much I can do while piloting a big vessel. The time it takes to get out of the way isn’t really what’s going to make the difference. I need to be hands on. I hate the feeling of helplessness while people are dying around me.”

My voice shook as I spoke those last words. I hadn’t realized where my mind had wandered as I spoke those words. My chest tightened, and I picked up my cup to drink a sip of coffee to hide how distraught I suddenly felt. Moments like this reminded me that I was still a long way from being better. I had been helpless in saving Kevin. I had been helpless in saving myself. And because of that, he had paid the ultimate price.

I stole a furtive glance at him after putting my cup down. There was no judgment in the dark pool of his obsidian eyes, just a soft glimmer of empathy that seemed to urge me to go on—not about my preferences for smaller ships, but the real source of my need to be able to make a difference.

Pretending not to see it, I forked a big chunk of scrambled eggs into my mouth. Wrath smiled, not fooled in the least, and took a few bites of his own plate which he had already managed to get halfway through.

“So, how did Linette and you become such close friends?” Wrath asked, letting me off the hook.

I barely repressed a sigh of relief, grateful for the change of topic. “I was the only woman among the cadets, so naturally we formed a bond. It also helped that we were both true flying junkies. We could never get enough. Over the years, my father did several upgrades to my personal flight simulator. It put any of the best games up there to shame,” I said with undisguised pride.”

Wrath chuckled. “I can imagine. To this day, Linette remains a games junkie, especially anything that involves flying and shooting.”

“I know. I’ve enjoyed a few games with her since my arrival on Khepri,” I said with an amused smile. “I’d missed her so much. When she left to join the Vanguard, it broke my heart. She told me to join her as soon as I could. But I was still a recruit at the time and had a lot more training left to do.”

“And after your training, your file states that you began the qualification training for the Vanguard. Why did you stop?” Wrath asked.

I squirmed on my seat. “What is this? I’m starting to feel like I’m getting the recruitment interview,” I said to avoid responding.

“Merely curiosity,” Wrath said. “You don’t have to answer.”

That annoyed me. My non-answer had probably given him the actual answer. A part of me hated that he was prying, while the other hated that I was getting defensive about it. It was a fair question, one that anyone else would have comfortably answered without getting testy.

“I didn’t join because I met someone,” I said stiffly. “We inquired, but there would have been no gratifying enough role for him here. He was ambitious, and the best-case scenario would have been for us to both find a position at the same Coalition outpost. But those openings were few and far between. They usually had one but not the other. Then it became a non-issue. And now I’m here, on my way to my first Vanguard mission.”

I gave him what I hoped to be an enthusiastic smile to hide how emotional I was getting again. Then I focused on my plate, eating as if I had been starving, in the hope he would drop this topic as well.”

For a few seconds, we ate in silence. I missed the lighthearted banter at the beginning of our meal. In a way, I should force myself to just get it all out and be done with it, like we had done with our first conversation about his mating glands. But this still felt too raw. It shouldn’t after all this time, and yet…

“One day, I hope you will feel comfortable enough to tell me what happened,” Wrath said at last in a soft voice, as if he had read my mind.

My spine stiffened, and my hand tightened around my fork while I painfully swallowed the mouthful I had barely finished chewing.

“Didn’t you read my file before I got here?” I asked in a much harsher tone than I had intended.

“Your file merely states you were in a bad car crash,” he replied in the same soothing voice, seemingly not offended in the least by my tone.

My instinctive reaction was to tell him that it was really none of his business. The words almost spilled out of my lips. However, I recognized this as one of the defense mechanisms I’d been hiding behind. Anger was so much easier to handle than sorrow and guilt. I had come a long way since first awakening from my coma and realizing what had happened.

“You don’t have to say anything now,” Wrath said gently, “or ever, for that matter. I just believe it would do you good to be able to talk about it openly. Not just of the accident but of him as well.”

I gaped at him, disbelieving. “Why would you want to know about him?”

“Because he’s a part of you,” Wrath said matter-of-factly. “He was there to make you happy when I couldn’t. Those memories should be cherished and bring a smile to your face, not sorrow. I believe that you need to embrace those memories, not try to forget them. Speak openly about him, so that you can let go of the pain.”

I frowned, taken aback by the sincerity on his face. “Most men would rather I forget,” I challenged, finding more comfort in offense than defense.

Wrath snorted. “First, I’m not most men,” he said teasingly. “Second, I do not fear your past. You had every right to have a life before you met me. That life helped shape who you are today. You are my soulmate. That means the love that will one day grow between us will transcend anything either of us could ever share with any other. So, no. Your past can never threaten me. What I would love is for you to be at peace with it. I want you to be able to speak of Kevin without tearing up. I want you to be able to smile as you mention the quirky things he did that you found endearing or that drove you bonkers.”

“Really?” I asked in a dubious tone.

“Really,” Wrath said, holding my gaze unflinchingly.

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