Page 10 of The Interstellar Rake's Irresistible Kiss
Lishelle waved one hand in airy dismissal as she headed for the door. “Well, assuming you both make it back, maybe you can show me how to use one of these blaster thingies.”
Nor groaned. “Closed-worlders with blasters. What is this universe coming to?”
“Can’t help but notice you only use that excuse to get what you want,” Lishelle noted, leaning around the door. She flashed hima smile with a lot of white teeth. “Maybe it’s our turn now.”
Nor gave her a small bow as she sashayed out. “What a brassy female,” he murmured, his pale eyes half closed. “I like her.”
Lishelle was almost as tall as the engineering officer he’d been dallying with earlier. Trixie squelched the spurt of jealousy. No use whining about the extra foot of height she herself didn’t have. “You don’thave to take me shooting,” she told him. “You could just trust me.”
He shrugged one shoulder, briefly wrinkling the fitted lines of his fatigues. “I don’t trust anybody. No offense to you.”
A shadow moved across the pale blue sky of his eyes, somehow more real than his very obvious smirk. She knew about not trusting. But she squelched the unwanted twist of empathy. “Let’s go then,” she saidbrusquely. “Because I’m not giving up this blaster, not when Blackworm is out there.”
“He’s not a threat,” Nor objected. She noticed that he didn’t say they wouldn’t go.
Later that morning, they took a small hovercar to the shooting range on the edge of the estate. The ride with Raz and Rayna had been a fun outing, even though she’d hyperventilated a little when they left the protective domeof the energy shield over the estate itself. With Nor, the atmosphere in the cockpit vibrated with tension. She hated tension. Tense things ended up breaking.
Or exploding.
He had left off the jacket of his military fatigues, revealing a light gray, almost silvery, undershirt. The fine fabric clung to the muscles of his chest and made his pale eyes more wintry than ever. Why were all thesealien males who lived with technology and ease so darn ripped? Rayna had giggled something to that effect when they’d had an Earth girls’ pajama party shortly before she departed on her tour of the system. After a few cups of ghost-mead, they’d decided male ego wasn’t just an Earther phenomenon.
Handling the hovercar with finesse, he landed them on the edge of the range. The last time she’d beenhere, there’d been a small group of Thorkon nobles at target practice, but this time the range was empty. Shoot, the last thing she wanted was to be alone with the captain.
Well, she had her blaster at least.
Or she would in a second… She hustled out of the hovercar while Nor unloaded the weapons cases.
“I’ll take mine,” she said.
With a cocked eyebrow his only reply, he handed over the case.She went to the middle stand where a small table with controls waited. She’d watched Raz operate the practice options, so she dialed in a target midway out in the field. She opened the case, checked the blaster, sighted down the lane, and drilled the target.
She lifted both her eyebrows at Nor; she could beat leastas annoying as he was. “Can we go back now?”
***
Nor pursed his lipsas he eyed the smoking hole in the middle of the anonymously round target.
As he’d noted before, the blaster was high-end, with assisted sighting and automated targeting. And she’d apparently taken him at his word about controlling the output charge since she’d fired just long enough to make her point.
She knew what she was doing.
But he’d already suspected as much. Raz was a haughty, cossettednobleman, but he wasn’t an idiot, and he wouldn’t have armed her carelessly. The way she’d held the blaster had already hinted at a familiarity with weapons. Why he’d insisted on a demonstration, he wasn’t sure.
Except he’d been curious. Not so much about her shooting ability as about her.
Why? Because she was a closed-worlder? Because she seemed so delicate after all she’d been through—or becauseshe seemed willing to shoot after what she’d been through?
Thoughtfully, he released his blaster from its case and sighted downrange.
With a short, controlled burst, he incinerated what remained of her target.
She narrowed her eyes. “Mine doesn’t do that.”
“Yours is legal.”
Nose wrinkling, like a little mishkeet finding her way, she studied him. “Shouldn’t the captain of the duchy’s flagshipbe less proud of being a pirate?”
He chuckled. “Former pirate. And probably.” He reset the targeting program.
