Starflight (Starflight, #1)(46)

“Lucky for us.” Solara’s cheeks warmed with fresh guilt when she noticed a pile of bloody rags on the floor. “We really put your skills to the test tonight.”

“Hey, listen,” Cassia said, and pointed the gel mask at her. “Don’t beat yourself up over what happened with Demarkus. You’re not the first person to fall for that trick, and you won’t be the last. I should’ve warned you about pirate gifts. They always come with strings attached.”

Don’t beat yourself up. How fitting.

Solara changed the subject by asking Doran, “Can you stay on your feet?”

“I think so. Why?”

“It’s my shower day,” she said. “I never had a chance to finish, so my turn’s still open. Why don’t you take it? You can wash that dye out of your—”

Before she was done, he jumped up and scrambled out of the room, calling over his shoulder, “No take-backs!”

The crew laughed at his retreating form…everyone except Kane.

As soon as Doran’s footsteps faded into silence, Kane delivered a harsh look to the rest of the crew and hissed, “You know what’s going to happen now, right?”

“Yeah,” the captain said. “Demarkus will sound like a lady when he talks.”

Renny snickered. “Oh, to be a fly on the wall.”

“This isn’t funny,” Kane snapped. “The Brethren will come after Doran, which means they’ll come after the Banshee.”

“Why do you care?” Solara asked him. “You’ve already got the Daeva on your trail. Compared to them, the pirates are puppy dogs.”

“I care plenty,” he said, flicking a glance at Cassia. “The Daeva make up one squad, and we can avoid them if we lie low. But the Brethren are everywhere. All it takes is one person to report Doran’s location, and we’re screwed.” Kane turned to the captain and urged, “We have to drop him.”

“What? No!” Solara said.

“Whoa, there.” Captain Rossi flashed his palm. “We’re not dumping anyone.”

“Every minute he spends on this ship is a liability,” Kane argued. “Demarkus will find him. You know it. And I don’t have to tell you what he’ll do—”

“Hey!” Solara shouted. “You weren’t this worried about Demarkus when you served me up on a silver platter to save your ass.” She jabbed a warning finger at him. “We had a deal. I installed that propellant cell, and I can rip it out just as easily.”

“Everyone, calm down,” the captain barked, causing Acorn to scamper behind the nearest gaming table leg. “Nobody’s dumping our passengers. And nobody”—his eyes flashed at Solara—“is sabotaging my ship. Are we clear?”

She nodded, but Kane didn’t seem ready to give up the fight. He drew a furious breath while a muscle ticked visibly in his jaw. Gone was the seductive gaze and the slippery smile she’d come to expect from him. This boy looked capable of murder. Without another word, he stood from his chair and stalked to his quarters. The clatter of an object hitting the wall soon followed.

Cassia tugged on a dreadlock and stared after him. “Sorry,” she said, as if part of her job involved policing his behavior. “I don’t know what got into him.”

Neither did Solara. And that was a problem.




She was still puzzling over Kane’s outburst when she closed her bedroom door and bolted it for the night. No matter how many times she replayed their conversation, she couldn’t make sense of it. Maybe he and Doran had argued. That wasn’t a stretch. Doran could teach a class on the Art of Alienation. Or maybe Kane was just a jerk. Either way, Doran deserved to know what’d happened.

Folding both arms, she leaned against the wall and watched him toss and turn on his pallet of blankets, moaning nonsense in his sleep. She decided to tell him in the morning, after the pain medicine had worn off. Right now she would only wake him for one reason.

“Doran,” she whispered, gently shaking his elbow.

He stirred with a groan and pulled the covers over his head.

“Get up.” After throwing the blanket aside, she tried to lift his shoulders, but it was like moving a boulder. “Come on. I’m taking the floor tonight.”

“Hmm?”

“You can have the bed.”

One puffy eye opened. “Don’t tease me.”

“It’s all yours. You’ve earned it.”

That was all it took to lure him off the floor. In his woozy state, he needed some help scaling the mattress, but luckily the climb wasn’t too high. She swung his legs into place and tucked him in while he nestled into her pillow and made happy noises.

“Better?” Instinctively, she reached out to smooth his hair and caught herself just in time.

He hummed in response, already half-asleep, then mumbled, “There’s room for you.”

She glanced at the empty spot next to him, and a familiar tickle reappeared behind her belly button. He was right. They could share the bed. But that seemed like a dangerous idea—not because anything might happen between them, but because Doran needed space to heal. What if she rolled over and accidentally elbowed him in the face? She might rebreak his nose, or open one of his cuts.

No, she would take the floor. It was safer down there. For Doran.