War Bride (Battle Born #7)(17)
Her one and only weapon against him was her wits. She had to keep him talking, help him see beyond his obsession. If he saw her as a person, not just a sexual object, perhaps she could… What? Talk him out of seducing her? Not only was the possibility hopeless, thanks to her visions, she knew he’d succeed in the end.
She set the tray near the door and went to the corner workstation. The computer greeted her in Bilarrian, so she quickly navigated through the menus to determine what “limited access” meant. She found the library database, but the vast majority of books were in Rodyte. There weren’t any books in Bilarrian. No surprise there. However, she found a small selection of Ontarian titles and she was also literate in that language.
Several hours passed as she alternated between brooding and reading. The subtle swish of the door warned her that she had a visitor. She didn’t bother turning around. She knew who it was, could sense Kryton’s commanding presence without seeing his face.
“Is this your new strategy?” A hint of amusement threaded through his voice. “Pretend I don’t exist?”
With obvious reluctance, she stood then turned around. Kryton was wearing his uniform jacket for the first time since she’d awakened. She was no expert on the Rodyte military, but the garment certainly looked official and intimidating. “Will you leave if I do?”
“Am I really that intolerable?” He stalked toward her, his movements slow and controlled.
“You wouldn’t be intolerable if you’d behave.” The closer he drew the harder her heart pounded.
“If you truly wanted me to behave, you wouldn’t respond to my misbehavior.” He stood close enough to touch her now, yet his hands remained at his sides. “I thought about you all day.”
“And I’ve spent all day thinking of ways to escape you.”
He laughed softly then motioned toward the dining area. “Did you come up with a viable plan?”
“Telling you the details isn’t part of the plan.” She followed him across the room and slipped onto the chair he pulled out.
He seated himself across from her then rested his forearms on the table. “Do you like the cabin?”
She shrugged. “One cage is much the same as another. I’m still unable to leave.”
“Where would you go if I released you? Back to your empty life?”
His attempted insult was so absurd it made her smile. “Are you honestly implying that I’m better off as your captive?”
As usual, her refusal to cower before him made him scowl. “I’m offering you much more than captivity. You just refuse to consider it.”
“If I surrender, allow you to use me, you’ll shower me with gifts and meaningless luxuries. But you’ll still take away my child. Nothing you can offer would be worth that tragedy.”
Before he could reply, someone knocked on the door. Kryton called out a Rodyte greeting without taking his eyes off her. A small parade of young men followed, each bearing a covered dish. They arranged everything on the table. The last man set empty plates and flatware in front of Kryton and then Skyla. The visitors left without making eye contact with her or uttering one word.
“Is everyone on your ship that friendly or are they just afraid of you?”
“They sense the frustration in me and want no part of it. I suppose one could call that fear.” Kryton scooted his chair back then stood. “What would you like to drink?”
“It makes no difference to me.”
“Of course it doesn’t,” he grumbled. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
She lowered her gaze and took a deep breath. Angering him only encouraged him to touch her, to demonstrate his dominance. Keeping him talking was a much better strategy. “I’d enjoy a glass of blood wine. If it’s available.”
His head dipped, acknowledging her request. Then he moved to the food dispenser and ordered a bottle of blood wine. After the kiosk printed the bottle and two glasses, he carried everything back to the table. “The dress suits you, brings out the color of your eyes.”
She took the glass of wine he proffered before responding to the compliment. “I appreciate the dresses, but I can’t help wondering why a Rodyte warship has female garments on board.”
He returned to his seat and poured himself a glass of wine. “I doubt the truth is as entertaining as the explanations you concocted.”
“Tell me the truth and we’ll compare.” His gaze searched hers for a moment and she realized her friendly tone came precariously close to flirting.
“The dresses, along with a wide selection of other valuables, were aboard a ship we were sent to salvage. The crew had abandoned the ship long before we arrived. We never so much as saw them.” He uncovered one of the dishes and motioned for her plate. “How did you explain it?”
She handed him her plate with a quick smile. “The simplest answer was that the dresses belonged to someone’s lover or a pleasure giver. But the quality is exceptional.”
“Pleasure givers are only allowed on long-range missions. I tend to stay pretty close to home.”
She nodded, trying to relax despite the awareness that pulsed between them whenever he was near. “It was also evident that the dresses are new, so that explanation didn’t make sense.”
“What was your next conclusion?” He set her plate down, his attention focused entirely on her.