Starflight (Starflight, #1)(36)

“Sixty percent,” Solara repeated while nervous butterflies tickled her belly. She’d never been good at crunching numbers in her head, especially not fractions. And what about pirate law? Until now, she hadn’t known pirates had any laws. What if she broke their rules?

“Hey, slow breaths,” Cassia said.

Solara hadn’t realized she was gasping. “Right. Sorry.”

“If you faint among pirates, don’t bother waking up.”

Oh god. That was not helpful.

The washroom door swung open, and all thoughts of pirates vanished. A tall boy walked inside, dressed in black clothes at least two sizes too tight. His cherry-red hair stood in haphazard spikes, and his eyes were heavily lined in kohl. If a rock star had an affair with a circus clown, this guy would be the result. It took a few moments to recognize him as Doran.

Before a question left her lips, he announced, “I’m your pilot.”

“You?” she choked out. “No way. You’ll get us killed.”

“They won’t kill me,” Doran insisted. “I’m worth too much.”

“But I’m not.”

“I’ll stay in the shuttle. If the plan works, they’ll never see me.”

“And if the plan goes south?”

He gripped both hips. “Look, we both know you can’t fly a shuttle.”

“I can fly,” she argued. It was the landing part she hadn’t mastered.

“Like the time you broke my arm in pilot’s ed class?”

She answered with a glare.

“That’s what I thought,” he said. “Now, quit arguing and let’s go.”

He stalked out of the washroom, leaving her with a lump of fear in her throat.

“You’ll be fine,” Cassia repeated. But this time she didn’t make eye contact.





Solara learned it was disturbingly easy to summon a pirate. After she and Doran put an hour’s distance between themselves and the Banshee, they cut the thrusters and transmitted the shuttle coordinates to an encrypted radio frequency, along with her name and a request for a propellant cell. According to the captain’s instructions, the pirates would come to her. Now all she had to do was survive the wait without crawling out of her skin.

“Are you sure you used the right signal?” she asked, leaning over Doran’s arm to check the shuttle dashboard. The piercing scent of hair dye watered her eyes and forced her back into her own space. “They should’ve been here by now.”

“They’re thieves, not doctors,” Doran said. “They’ll come when they feel like it.”

She wiped both palms on her pants. “Like you’re an expert.”

Instead of taking the argument bait, Doran turned to face her. His expression showed no panic, which was beyond unfair. “Calm down. It’s going to be okay.”

“I know that.”

“Then why are your hands shaking?”

She glanced down and saw that he was right.

“Take a sip of this.” He reached inside his jacket and handed over a flask. “The captain said it’d bring you down a notch.”

Solara tipped back the flask for a quick pull and forced down a mouthful of liquid flame, nearly retching at the taste. She coughed and pounded her chest. “Thanks,” she wheezed. “If anyone corners me, I’ll breathe on them.”

“Feel better?”

“If by better you mean pukey, then yes.”

He expelled a heavy sigh and reached for her wrist. “Here, give me your hand.”

“What for?” she asked, eyeing him warily.

“So I can help you relax. If you try to negotiate with these people while your hands are shaking, we’re screwed.”

“Help me how?”

“Just give it here,” he snapped. “Why is everything a battle with you?”

She grunted and held her free hand in his direction, making sure to display an extra special finger for his benefit. She didn’t know what she expected to come next, but it wasn’t the gentle touch of Doran’s thumbs massaging her palm. Caught off guard, she flinched upright.

Doran didn’t seem to notice. He watched her hand while rubbing it in alternating circles, soothing muscles that had grown stiff from clenching her fists for too long. “My mother used to do this when I was little,” he said. “It always calmed me down after a bad dream.”

Solara didn’t know what to say. Doran was holding her hand. In what alternate dimension was that valid? Crazier still, she didn’t hate the sensation. It felt rather delicious, actually. Her whole body responded to the warm contact, coaxing her to relax until she nearly dropped the flask.

“Sometimes I lied about having nightmares just so she’d do this,” he continued. “I think she caught on because that’s when she stopped.”

“Are you two close?” Solara asked. “Like with your dad?”

His thumbs paused for a moment. “No.”

“Because she quit giving hand massages?”

“Because she took off. About eight years ago, after the divorce.”

“Oh.” Solara’s cheeks heated. Her comment about the massages was a joke, and now she wished she could take it back. “Took off, as in permanently?”