Ad'ra watched Vau drum his fingertips against the paperwork in front of him. His face looked slack, tired. Of course, he'd been up early and out late every night that week. She was surprised he wasn't curled in fetal position.
He swore he didn't mind long days—that he preferred action to inactivity—but that the hardest part of their current schedule was the necessity of the reviews. The oski'la boardroom crap.
She winked at him when he caught her watching him.
Of course, he had the prettiest hands on the whole planet. Probably any other planet, too, but her scope of experience was fairly narrow. Long, strong fingers. Trim nails and cuticles. There were hard calluses on his palms and the pad of his thumbs, but they didn't feel rough to her. None would doubt that those hands belonged to a man capable of grasping and holding whatever he wanted. In and out of the bedroom. Sexy hands.
She blushed when he lifted one brow. It made him smirk sleepily at her.
.
Fett didn't especially appreciate it when Walon Vau rose, stretched and yawned, and rubbed his eyes before pushing his chair in and leaning on it, rocking back and forth to stretch his back.
"Problem?"
"I think I've logged like eight hours of sleep all week. But by all means, drone on," the erudite man invited with a flourish.
He sniffed as he straightened to lean against the wall with his arms crossed. Leaned forward to flip pages as they went through the overview. Kept up, just remained upright.
When he lifted his datapad no one thought anything of it. He often fact checked or logged details during meetings and assemblies.
Ad'ra's palm slapped over the comm pad on her gauntlet when it lit up before chiming.
Walon was still tapping away on his 'pad.
She smiled benignly at her benefactor when he glowered at her.
Lowered her hands to her lap so she could discreetly read the message.
'Need to talk. This isn't working.'
She gasped. Heard a little snicker. Felt her wrist vibrate.
'I need to make a couple of changes to our current arrangement. Can you take five minutes after this infernal meeting concludes?'
Before she could respond his next one chimed.
'Need a basic toolkit and an extra pair of hands.'
Now she was intrigued.
Fett was staring at her when she looked back up.
She flushed and sat primly, her ankles crossed and tucked beneath her like a lady of good breeding and her hands folded in her lap.
Walon kept tapping on his 'pad. Nothing came her way, though, unless he was composing a lengthy diatribe.
She made her suggestions—certain units were showing significant signs of individuality: some were demonstrating marked leadership potential, others far-advanced aptitude with technology or other skills and it seemed clear to her that promotions and reallocations of assets would serve the GAR in the long run. And that those changes should begin effective immediately. Squad non-coms and even promotion to officer corps with increased privileges and responsibilities.
"I think they need to step into a headship role, with cuy'val dar starting to take a more passive role and clone leadership gradually replacing us."
"I disagree completely. Don't disrupt squad or company integrity now. Let this play out. Reallocate when they go active if you want, but we're not done here yet," Vau argued. He made his plea to Fett rather than involve Ad'ra.
He knew better than to try to argue with her.
She wasn't reasonable and she didn't like changing her mind.
Down the table Priest shook his head.
"As much as it pains me, I agree with both of them," he told the man holding court at the head of the long table. "Yes, they need to get the rank now, so their commands get used to hearing us disperse information and orders through them, but don't make them the bridge just yet. They need to stay put, just one more wet droid in blank armor."
Vau hissed at the pointed blank armor comment. His had been encouraged to detail theirs for years.
Dred continued, "When we get the launch date they're going to be restructured anyway. Assigned battle commands. Break into squadrons and battalions and the like. There's no reason to rock the boat this far into it. But, yes, the ones capable of handling the rank need to go ahead and be given it and given it soon. Or else they'll be like blind shepherds herding scared nerfs when the changes come down the pike."
"That doesn't work," Ad'ra told him. "Most of the ones you're recommending for officer candidacy are in the same squads. So suddenly you have a four-pack of commandos who are all the same rank?"
"They're all the same rank now," he countered.
She rolled her eyes. It drove Fett nuts. Nothing else she did made him want to slap her stupid like that affectation.
"Which is what I'm arguing against."
Vau rocked his head to the side. "You won't get unit integrity by mixing up squads who have trained together for years."
"What do you think is going to happen when they get real-world assignments?" Wad'e asked gently. "They'll have to be able to work with new faces—or fall in with new squads—as their numbers are depleted."
"Not mine," the black-armored man insisted.
The answer to that was a groan from the collective. "Now you sound like the precious adenn," Castella Reau protested.
Vau didn't look at her.
"Find something to suck, Cas," he ordered, then simply continued speaking to Tay'haai. "I don't want Dalphina broken up into segments to pick up the slack when all these other squads start falling apart. That's not how you reward excellence."
"The numbers have to come from somewhere," Jaig reminded him. "A lot of your lads are showing exceptional skills—if you follow the template of one squad sergeant, one demo man, one techie, and one sniper—your guys are going to be able to fill any of those roles in a squad that's only one man down. They're practically all cross-transferable into any other role. It makes them valuable to command."
Vau knew where this was going.
"Step it up. Yeah, my guys are all cross-trained and over-qualified and I worked my shebs off getting them that way. While every other man in this room came at me for being overly aggressive except the bastard who actually is atrocious in his brutality. Now you want my guys to step in and make it work when your squads are shattered to the point of ineffectiveness. Fek off."
"And which of us is it that failed to complain prettily enough to flatter you?" Dred asked in his nasally tones.
"If we could return to the original topic," Ad'ra said in a tone designed to express her boredom with the direction of the conversation. "You boys can whip it out and play mine is bigger later."
"So refined and diplomatic," Vau bitched. "Times like this I can't decide if your tongue is coarse as salt or sharp as a viper's. If only you learned to keep it between your teeth when it wasn't being put to better uses than flapping like you actually know what you're talking about."
Fett's hand came up like he wanted to choke the man.
"All of you shut up. Two paragraphs. Tops. Recommendations for promotions, restructuring suggestions, and counterarguments to what you heard today. Two paragraphs tops," he reiterated. "To be in my inbox by tomorrow night."
He rose, cut his eyes at Jaig and H.G.
"These meetings should be conducted via email."
"Don't make me read it, boss," H.G. begged. "You know I'm not the intellectual they are."
"Hell, Ad'ra would clear out everything that doesn't suit her anyway," Fett promised. He leveled the girl with one finger. "Do not delete the ones you don't like."
She made a face and a small sound escaped between her teeth. It was like a cross between a hiss and spit.
He chose to ignore it, although as he stalked away he wondered if it was some new language or species' dialect.
Fek.
.
Walon waited for her to speak to the small groups she still needed to address.
Shoved off of the wall when she got done.
"Let it go," Wad'e advised quietly when he slipped past them in the hallway.
"Five minutes," Vau ground out at her, his teeth grinding in irritation.
Her eyes flashed up and over at him. "Fine," she spat out.
Matched her pace to his as his long legs ate up the distance.
"Now I've got a fekking position piece to write today, too. It just gets better and better."
"I thought we were keeping this separate."
"My five minutes hasn't started yet. And we're not in bed."
She seethed next to him, stalking beside him in silence.
When he accessed her room and gestured her in before him she turned, her hands going to her hips.
"Five minutes started yet?" she snarled.
"Almost. Where's your fekking tool bag?"
"I have some stuff in my kit bag. There's more next door."
"I'm not borrowing Fett's hydrospanner so I can move your kriffing bed."
"What?" Her expression and tone changed instantly.
He flipped the pillows down to the foot of the bed, shoved the mattress down against the footboard.
"It's mounted to the wall. Which is a joke, because if this tower tips the least of your problems is going to be the bed sliding over."
"Why does the bed need to slide over?"
"So I can get in it without climbing over you. And you can get out without climbing over me. And I want a fekking nightstand in here."
She beamed at him.
She was beautiful.
He shook himself. "What?"
"You want to pull the bed out a little to give yourself room for a night stand? In here?"
He had to scratch his head. "Yes. It's just a convenience thing. For when the rocking is done. It's stupid to have to remember to get in first when you're going to be up and down changing all night. And when you do get to sleep in I don't want to-"
She was on him, her mouth fused to his. The weight of her onslaught had him stepping back before catching himself.
His arms came around her and he bent to this new task.
He was smiling, her hair spread over his chest and his eyes getting drowsy, as the sun made its yearly appearance. He fanned it up between his fingers, letting the brilliance of the parted clouds bring out the natural mahogany and chestnut undertones.
"You shouldn't have to go four hundred and fifty days to see that," he murmured.
"You didn't used to. Why did you guys stop going on the hunting trips?"
He frowned at the ceiling. "I guess the job got more demanding. Or he likes other people more. He takes you and Boba out. I guess I get the privilege more than others. Still. It's a sight for sore eyes."
She bent so she could see through the sheer curtains.
"I like it better when we're on the same page."
It was the closest he was going to get to an apology for countering him at the meeting.
"I like it when you're less crude. I don't mind arguing with you if you'd listen instead of going on the defensive without ever considering that I might be right."
"I consider whether or not you're right. Do you want me to summarize your defense for you so you can nap a while?"
He glanced over when Mird shifted in his nest.
"Nah. It's just two paragraphs. I'll just work on it intermittently. It's not like he hasn't already made up his mind."
"Which way do you think he'll go?"
"Mine."
"Yours! Why!?"
"Because I'm right and he's less concerned about them surviving the war than he is getting this job done and done efficiently. It's not that he doesn't feel for them, but it's just a job to him. His ARCs are less Mando than a lot of our troops are. Way less than yours are. Once they go boots up on those transports he's done. Cash the cred and bang out."
She frowned at him.
He stroked his fingers through her hair.
"At some point I'd like to take you somewhere warm and lay with you under a sun we can actually feel."
"I hear Mandalore is nice."
"It is. Dream with me there?"
She settled against his chest again. Snuggled in.
They hadn't gotten around to moving the bed, so when he fell asleep she carefully crawled over his prone form and set an alert on his comm'link. Dressed quietly and slipped out.
.
'I'll take care of it,' the message from Ad'ra read when he woke up to the gentle chirp of an alarm on his 'link. He wondered briefly if that meant a trip somewhere warm, Fett's views on the training job, or the bed.
He laughed when fifteen seconds later two images appeared. Stock pix.
A hydrospanner and a pillow with a mint on it.
'I might have put you off schedule more than the five I asked for.'
'I'm telling anyone who asks that I had to hide your body,' she bragged.
.
.o0o.
.
Walon accompanied his fifteen best snipers to the projectile range. Had lanes blocked. Intended to settle once and for all who had any chance in hell of beating himself or 1207. He actually intended to push them through a challenge similar to the way Ad'ra 'connected the dots' when they shot together—firing just to the right and above each of the others' bull's eyes.
His attention was caught immediately by her laugh.
The face he made inside his helmet would have been daunting had anyone chanced to see it. The way every fiber in him tightened was unworthy.
She and Jonashe Kilo were farther down with Asirel.
He liked the rangemaster well enough. Barely tolerated the Corellian.
Although Jaig told him that his elitism was what kept his hackles up at the boy.
He'd been too young to be given command of a training company. Vau had argued bitterly against his inclusion—aruetii and inexperienced. Apparently he hailed from a long line of warrior masterminds. Like he cared. The pup had accepted Jango Fett's offer as a way of making a name for himself outside his clan. Smug little thing. Top marks, though, at the academy and on SO operations for his homeworld. Couldn't complain much about his results, although the upstart's card game was boring and predictable. He hated when he walked into Fett's chambers and found the anti-parvenu was joining them.
Even as he watched Jonashe corrected Ad'ra's grip on the rifle.
She didn't need the assist. She'd been born knowing how to flutter a trigger.
He set his guys to separate targets for now. Forwent the game he'd planned. Wandered down.
"Ahhh, Sergeant Vau. A man who appreciates shatter rounds."
"My favorites," he agreed with Asirel.
He found no fault with the armorer's skill in his chosen profession, either, although he could live without the man's religious ramblings.
Ad'ra turned, beamed at him.
"Jonashe had some custom work done by SoroSuub," she told him. "I intercepted them when Jango brought them in."
He accepted the rifle.
"And you were struck suddenly with some sort of debilitating amnesia?" he asked as he examined it.
Her smile faded a little and the prettily winged brows quirked in question.
"You needed a lesson from Sgt. Kilo?"
She grinned at him. Lifted herself to speak in his ear. "Sometimes you have to play the ingenue to get your hands on the good stuff."
"I'll bear that in mind."
"Jealous?"
He smiled down at her. "Absolutely. I lie awake in bed at night longing for a sharpshooter to touch my gun."
The other man laughed good-naturedly. He frowned, though, when the tall Mandalorian sighted down his rifle.
"May I?"
"Don't set the bar too high," Asirel chuckled. "The lad hasn't even gotten to shoot it yet."
"Well, then, forgive my haste." He handed the rifle back.
"Go ahead," Kilo gestured. He made a show of ejecting the round in the chamber and handing Vau a fresh clip. Picked up the second of the rifles on the rolling cart. "Let's see what you've got."
He was proud of that sharpshooter designation.
Where Vau came from, though, it was a little simpler.
"May I dot your i's, my dear?"
"Always."
She snugged the protective plug into her ears. Drew her side arm and took her stance.
Felt Walon settle around her, the long gun resting on her shoulder.
Asirel hit the warning of live fire, the gates closing and lights starting.
Kilo was aware of Ad'ra calling out the scores as they shot in tandem. Wondered what the hell Vau thought he was bragging about.
She'eta... Shehn'eta... Ad'eta... Ta'raysh...
Then the targets came up.
He got it.
Instead of clumping them center-mass, as he had done—and with fairly tight spread for shooting a brand new gun—Vau's target had four marks in the bull's eye. Then they stitched up, one shot taking out the numbers that scored the ring and one right above it.
So that each terminal θ ended up looking like an 8.
He looked over at the other man who'd observed this absolute BS disregard of the typical scoring of ten inward by decade to reach twenty-what they called olan-at the dead-on bull's-eye.
"You're fekking kidding me."
Vau removed his helmet. Met Asirel's eyes. The other man had removed his as well. Tipped his head back so the corrective lens he needed over his left eye could focus.
"That's what you get for shooting it left-handed," he told the black-armored assassin.
Vau didn't acknowledge the rebuke. "This is good work. Nearly as good as the Merr Sonn line. Nice and light but sturdier than a Verp. Whoever did the trigger assembly is an artist. Haar near every bit as good as As. You might have yourself some competition, here," he chuckled. "I know who I'd get to replace you if-"
"Yeah… it was me."
Vau snorted.
"Fun toy," Ad'ra beamed at the younger man. "And you shot it really, really well for a sharpshooter. Especially being that it was your first mag."
"Come call 'em for my guys," Vau invited her. Held out his hand.
She immediately stepped away from the other two.
"Can I shoot against you this time?"
"If you promise to let me win," he snickered as they moved out of hearing.
.
His guys seemed to actually enjoy the challenge of stitching shots together, of calling the hit and then making whatever pattern was demanded—sometimes connecting dots, sometimes dotting the top of a hit, the flower Ad'ra demanded from them if they wanted to be her new boyfriends.
He enjoyed showing off for them. Especially when Ad'ra suggested she could shoot just as well as he could left-handed. She couldn't, but it was fun to stand with his back to her, feel her resting slightly into his body, and take the shots simultaneously.
She called out abuse and insults, heckling his snipers, when they went cyclic. Their sergeant stood in the middle of the range, one arm extended each way, and took the shot at whichever target was under the light Asirel flashed. Expected them to hit center mass at least.
"Duck," Vau ordered at one point in his utterly calm, detached voice.
Ad'ra crouched immediately.
1301 was a little slower in going down and ended up with Vau's second pistol pressed up against his jugular, angled up into his helmet.
"What happens when a friendly gets between a sniper and his mark?" he growled at the others.
"Shoot through, then finish the job," one replied immediately.
"Unless it's a protectee or dignitary, Sergeant!" was the follow-up.
"Do I seem like I'm in the mood to put you under my protection, Thirteen-oh-one?"
"No, Sergeant! Sorry, Sergeant! I'll-"
He tensed up when he heard Vau's finger on the trigger.
Nearly sobbed when the hammer came down.
It was empty.
Walon holstered the projectile gun. Reached up and around and took his shot with the other. Holstered it as well.
Ripped the terrified clone's helmet off and jerked his face forward, bending to scream at him.
"When I tell you to duck you kriffing well duck. I'm not your mother. I'm not your father. I'm your master and you'll obey instantly and without question. Get the brass policed. Without getting your head shot off," he ordered.
Turned and set the remaining clones to a similar exercise, assigning them each a pair of lanes opening up on either side.
"READY!"
"Walon," Ad'ra murmured softly. The one who'd angered him was still working as fast as he could.
"No."
Hot brass would be mixing with the cooler shells already littering the ground. The risk of the clone getting clipped with freshly ejected casings was pretty good with a dozen of his brethren firing over his head. To say nothing of the noise that was about to erupt. Without any hearing protection from his bucket the clone's eardrums were about to take a beating.
She grimaced at him.
"AIM!"
He didn't say anything as she tugged the plugs out of her own ears, passing them off to 1301—Hands, his friends called him—and then reached for her own bucket swinging from her belt.
She shook her head at him as he bellowed, "COMMENCE!" before the kid could get them tucked into place.
She walked right past his firing clones like they wouldn't shoot a hole in her.
They probably wouldn't.
Damn. It.
She'd be pissed about this one.
His happy feeling was all but gone.
He narrowed his eyes when she stopped by Kilo on the way out. Exchanged a quick word with him. Walked on past.
Suddenly he wanted to blow big, huge, giant holes in something.
Fek this detail work.
And fek her if she thought he'd change his mind just because she was in a snit.
Because she sashayed out of here smiling at some other man.
.
He was asleep when she slipped into his room.
She'd waited up for him for a long time. Done a million little chores. Checked on some things. Did some planning. Bugged Jango to death over an ops order. Cleared her conservator and scrubbed it and the cabinet shelves and the tiny apartment-sized baking drawer. Did the same in the larger apartment next door, her comm set to alert her when Walon accessed her doors. Reorganized Boba's drawers and gathered up a huge pile of the things the child had outgrown. Started toward the man's closet, which was where he'd drawn the line and kicked her out.
Mird was just shaking off in the hallway when she took her leave.
She frowned at the beast when her door slid open. The strill made an about-face and sat on those loosely-covered, shambling haunches. Rumbled at her.
There was some gore on that gilded face.
Blech.
"I don't know where he is, little bitty kitty-kitty," Ad'ra told it, her hands on her hips. She glanced around. Made a snap decision. "Let's go find him. Oya! Oya, Mirdy! Find Vau!"
So she tracked him, the gold-furred creature shambling before her, back to his lair.
The dragon slept. Slept peacefully from all signs, although the scowl on his face was terrible to behold. She wondered what bitter thoughts had disturbed him before he drifted off.
The long length of him was laid out at an angle on his bunk, his chest rising and falling with his every breath.
He didn't snore—she thought it might be the second sexiest thing about him. The badly healed break in his nose bothered him sometimes, forcing him to sleep semi-reclined as he was now, the pillows stacked behind his head. He'd been reading, it seemed, and hadn't turned off the light. One hand was tucked up behind his head and the other rested on the darkened data'pad on his belly. The only thing he'd bothered to remove was his armor. He was still in his kute.
She rescued his holo-book. Set it and the data'pad to the side. Eased down beside him… traced the square-tipped fingers.
Lifted them to her lips.
He kissed her hands and fingers. Just absently.
Or if they were talking about something serious. When she reached for him, when she touched his face. He'd told her that he liked kissing. He meant it. His lips seemed to default to it. She wondered that she'd never seen it before they started seeing each other this way.
A smile curved over her own as she punctiliously pressed her lips to the end of each digit in turn. Mouthed his thumb. Over the hard spot on the inside, the tender skin where creases marked the bend. The pad of it.
"Ad'ra…"
"Were you expecting someone else?" she turned his words back on him.
Trapped in his slumber he made some noise of distress. Shook his head.
Mird hopped up. Wound around his feet. Lay with his head on Walon's knee. Purred.
She swore the thing was in the cat family.
She quickly slithered out of her pants, shucked her utility tunic. Carefully climbed over him so she was closest to the wall and reached over him to turn off the light. Took his hand again.
She had to bite back on a giggle when he made the same satisfied sound Mird had.
There was less amusement in her expression when the strill gave grumbly argument to her tugging one of the blankets out from under it. It wasn't allowed on the bed in her room. Had a freaking bed of its own here. Didn't look like it was budging tonight.
X-X-X-X-X
"What are you doing here?" the man asked quietly when his alarm woke them both.
He nuzzled his face beneath the long tail of dark hair. It was probably the closest to the natural color that he'd seen it in years. She had one streak of bright blue and a smaller streak of dark mauve above each ear.
"Jango and Boba kicked me out and Mird was irritated that you weren't where he left you."
"He left me on the parade ground."
"Well, he was pretty pissed you weren't in my room when he came looking for you. It's probably a good thing he can't actually speak in a language we can understand."
"He and I understand each other well enough."
"Your bed's going to be trash. He was wet when he came in."
Vau could smell it.
"Why are you mad at me?" she asked him, rolling, her eyes clear and wary.
"I'm not mad at you," he said in his no-nonsense tone. "I figured you'd be pissed at me. You didn't ping me and didn't say anything else to me all day, so…"
"It was pretty late when I looked at the clock. I was working on something."
"Your prerogative. How did you end up getting kicked out on your ass?"
"I was bored. Restless. Why do you kiss my fingertips?"
He frowned at the hand he'd taken in his when she stroked his eyebrow.
He'd been doing it without thinking.
"I guess they were just there so I borrowed them," he suggested. "What do you smell like this morning?"
It was crisp and cool, not unpleasant—just different.
"Cleaning agent. You should see my quarters. Jango's, too. The appliances haven't been this shiny since they were installed."
His cheeks creased around his eyes. The smile hadn't quite made it to his lips yet when his deep chuckle rattled out like gravel on a chute.
"You cleaned through your mad. Congratulations. You are officially all grown up."
"I wasn't mad at you, Walon," she insisted.
"I have your sonic beads. He'd have been fine without them, but he asked me to give them back to you when we locked up."
"That was conscientious of him."
"It was. I was impressed."
"Pissed," she corrected.
"Eh. Lesson learned."
"You nearly slotted him."
"I did not!"
"You stuck the muzzle of your gun under his jaw and pulled the trigger. If you'd had one more shot in that mag he'd have been toast. Over a two second delay."
"Give me more credit than that. It was one hell of a scare tactic. Seconds count, Ad'ra. Milliseconds count. I don't have to tell you that."
"Does your hand hurt today?" She lowered her own lips to the fingers wrapped around her own. Nuzzled the scar on the otherwise smooth dorsum.
"A little bit." He smirked. "You're going to kiss it better because I overdid yesterday?"
"Maybe," she shot at him.
He thought he was getting lucky when she swung up and over. Settled astride his hips.
There were still too many layers of clothing and blankets between them, but he applauded her enthusiasm.
Was amused and touched beyond what he could have articulated when she reached over his shoulder for the tube of bacta anti-inflammatory cream on his bedside table.
She warmed it between her palms. He wondered who had taught her to do that, rubbing her hands briskly to heat the salve so that it wasn't cold when it hit flesh.
"You are very possibly the sweetest woman I've ever dated," he told her, his eyes as gold as the beast's shining as he stared up at her.
"Uh-uh-uhhh," she teased, cocking her head. "I'm a concubine, remember? I have it on good authority that we are not dating. I'm just using you for your body. And superior kit. Besides, Jango says you like to create a little fantasy of intimacy around your relationships."
"Well, if Jango says it, it must be true," he sneered. Happy feeling gone again.
"How does he know that you pretend affection toward women?"
He lifted his brows. "Ask him. I told you from the start that I prefer to conduct my affairs with someone I respect and am affectionate toward. I don't have to pretend what's not there. And the trappings and gestures are appropriate for the level of intimacy between us. Ad'ra, before you ever reached for me there was a good bit of camaraderie between us. We're well-suited. Otherwise we wouldn't have already had a semblance of connection between us that made taking this step possible."
"He thinks I had a crush on you when I was a little girl. Were you sweet on me when we first met?"
"Oh, absolutely," he swore, taking the route of easy banter. "One look at you and I threw my gauntlet. Dueled every man on this stilted island of dini'la for the chance at winning your hand."
She made a face. Switched hands, massaging the tendons and musculature as far up his wrist as she could reach beneath the form-fitting base layer. The technique she employed felt fantastic, even with no recent injuries to complain about.
She moved on to his face, leaning forward slightly to stretch and smooth the skin over his forehead, his brow, his cheeks. Little circles of heat, of pressure, applied with the sides of her thumbs while her other fingers anchored into the sides of his scalp. Just the right touch, just enough strength behind the gentleness. He'd told her he carried his stress at the back of his neck, the base of his skull and down his spine. It was amazing, though, how it felt like those simple passes pressed over his sinuses melted every muscle in his body.
"You are going to make some lucky man a superior wife someday," he groaned, watching her through half-slit eyes.
"Ohhh, I doubt it," she mused. The way her fingers ran into his hair above his temples— she was drowning him into a pool of contentment that made him swallow hard not to give in to. He had to bear down to concentrate on her words. "I'm awfully spoiled the way things are."
"I do my best."
"Mission accomplished."
"Then why are you flirting with Jonashe Kilo?"
"I'm not flirting with Jonashe Kilo—else I'd have crawled into his bed. Do I list out the times I see you speaking with the other women here?"
"The other female humans here are three times your age or not even remotely attractive. Not quite the same thing."
"Rav is in fantastic shape for her age, and Reaus are gorgeous. Even if they're crazy. So is Vhonte. And Zam and Berrée are close enough to count."
"I'm not remotely attracted to any of them."
"You're friends, though."
"Friendly. They're associates with whom I am on genial terms for the most part—excluding the fact that the Reaus are psychotically dangerous."
"I'm dangerous," she reminded him.
He grinned. "You are. And if you're jealous because I passed the gravy to Vhonte we'll tag on the psychotic as well."
"I hate you."
"Mm-hmmm…" he hummed. Reared up and stripped off his shirt. "Come down here and say that…"
"What else hurts?" she asked him, warming more of the cream.