Page 10 of Alien Devil's Pride
“Your supervisor has been reassessing his priorities,” I said casually. “He won't need such detailed reports anymore.”
She processed this for three steps, her expression unreadable. “What did you do?”
“Clarified expectations.”
“I didn't ask you to?—”
“You didn't need to.”
She stopped walking, turned to face me. “You can't just eliminate every threat around me.”
“Watch me.”
Something flashed in her eyes. Not anger. Not exactly gratitude either. Recognition, maybe. Understanding that this had moved beyond strategy, beyond the game we'd been playing.
“The observation lounge?” she asked finally.
“After you.”
We walked in silence, but the space between us felt charged with possibility. Tomorrow I'd probably do something else strategically stupid for her safety. Break another wrist. Threaten another predator. Build another wall.
The thought didn't bother me as much as it should have.
SABINE
The observation lounge was quiet. A few shift workers scattered across the space, staring at nothing. We took our usual spot by the far window. The nebula outside pulsed blue and gold.
I wrapped my arms around myself. The station's air recyclers made everything cold after a certain hour.
“You eliminated a threat today,” I said.
“I clarified expectations.”
“With Kreeg. But before that, you broke that man’s wrist. Pamat.”
He turned from the window. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
I did. Had known since that first mathematical message at my table. But knowing and hearing were different calculations. “Say it anyway.”
“Because you're mine to protect.” He moved closer. Not touching, but close enough that I could feel the heat off his skin. “Because watching predators circle you makes me want to tear this station apart.”
My pulse jumped. I pressed my hand flat against the window, needing the cold against my palm. “I survived five years here without protection.”
“You survived by making yourself invisible.” His voice was rougher now. “That's not the same as being safe.”
“And being visible to you is safer?”
“No.” He stepped closer. “It's more dangerous. For both of us.”
I should have stepped back. Should have maintained the careful distance I'd built between myself and everyone else on this station. Instead, I stayed exactly where I was.
“The way you look at me,” I said. My voice came out quieter than intended. “I can't tell if it's strategy or something else.”
“It was strategy.” He lifted one hand, moved it toward my face slowly enough that I could have pulled away. His fingers barely touched my cheek. “It stopped being strategy days ago.”
