Eliana looked at Dagon. “Is that like a phone message?”
He considered his translator’s definition of phone. “Yes.”
“Did you send it?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
A good question. Who on this ship believed they knew Eliana well enough to message her privately? His brows drew down. “I don’t know.”
“Maybe Anat has reconsidered giving me flight lessons.”
He stared at her. After Dagon, Anat was the most experienced and highest-ranked fighter pilot on the ship. Dagon knew that most of the men stationed on the Ranasura thought their commander grim and foreboding. But Dagon appeared downright ebullient when compared to Anat.
“You asked Anat to give you flight lessons?” To borrow one of Eliana’s Earth terms: that had been ballsy.
“Yes.” She wrinkled her nose. “But he said no. The other pilots warned me he’d refuse, but I figured I’d give it a try anyway.”
He tried to hold back his next question but failed. “Why didn’t you ask me?”
Her brow furrowed. “You mean ask your permission? Was I supposed to do that first?”
“No. Why didn’t you ask me to give you flight lessons?” He understood her fierce drive to learn everything she possibly could that might aid her in the future but inwardly balked at the image of Eliana and Anat crowded together in a flight simulator.
“Oh. Because you’re… you know.” She motioned to his uniform. “The commander. You run the ship. You have more important things to do.” She nibbled her lower lip. “Aaaaand I didn’t want to wear out my welcome.”
Confused, he glanced down at the deck.
“Why are you looking at my boots?” she asked.
“According to my translator, wear out my welcome means eroding through frequent use the surface of a mat with the word welcome printed on it that Earthlings place outside their doors.”
She grinned. “Your translator got it wrong. Wear out my welcome means…” She shrugged. “I don’t know. Make a nuisance of myself, I guess. I’ve already insinuated myself into a significant portion of your day, Dagon.” Her smile dimmed a bit as uncertainty crept into her features. “I didn’t want you to get tired of having me around all the time.”
So while he had sought any and every excuse to spend more time with her, she had worried he might want less? He took a step closer to her. “I believe the likelihood of that is nonexistent.”
Her eyes dilated as his shadow fell over her. “Really?” she asked softly.
“Really.” He nodded to the reader inside her door. “Do you want to listen to your communication?”
Her gaze fell to his lips. “Sure. How do I do it?”
“May I enter?”
“Absolutely,” she said, her voice a tad husky, then flushed as she backed away to give him room.
Dagon joined her in her cabin, and the door slid down, closing them inside and blocking any prying eyes that might notice if he sought more than a hug tonight.
Because he really wanted to seek more than a hug tonight.
He glanced at the electronic pad beside the door. “You can activate the reader with your palm, then press this.” He demonstrated the steps. “Or you can use verbal commands and tell CC to play the communication.”
“Okay.” She glanced up at the ceiling. “CC, would you please play the communication?”
So drekking cute.
“Playing communication,” CC responded.
A male voice floated out of the electronic pad. “Eliana. It’s Adaos.”
Dagon’s smile faltered, replaced by a frown. Why was Adaos contacting her?
“Since I was unable to observe firsthand how sleep accelerates your healing,” his friend said, “would you join me in Med Bay before first meal? I’d like to execute another full-body scan to determine how well your bones have healed, see what effect the process had on your blood volume, then take another blood sample to examine your viral count.”
Fury suffused Dagon. “I told him to leave you alone,” he growled. “I ordered him unequivocally not to treat you like an experiment or some bizarre creature here for his scrutiny!”
Her eyes widened. “He isn’t.”
Unappeased, Dagon motioned angrily to the panel. “He just said he wants to draw more of your blood to study. And he knows how much you hate needles!” All thoughts of eliciting more than a hug from Eliana slipped away as he spun toward the door, intent on confronting Adaos and making it very clear this time that—
“Dagon, wait!” Eliana grabbed his arm and tugged him around to face her. “It isn’t what you think.”
“It’s exactly what I think! He intends to—”
“I told him he could!” she nearly shouted.
Until then, he hadn’t realized he’d raised his voice to a near-shout himself. “What?” he demanded, then winced when he failed to speak more softly.
“I told him he could study me,” she said quickly.
He shook his head. “You’ve a sweet nature, Eliana. If you’re trying to protect him—”
“I’m not. It’s true. I told him he could study me.”
Confusion buffeted him. “Why would you do that?” Her discomfort around needles and the infirmary in general had not been feigned. He was certain of it. And her fellow Earthlings had made her so self-conscious about—if not fearful of—revealing the extent of her differences that he couldn’t imagine why she would agree to Adaos treating her like a lab subject.
Releasing his arm, she stuffed her hands into her back pockets and shifted her weight from her left leg to her right, then back again. Her gaze darted around the room, skittering past his without lingering.
“Because he had something I needed,” she mumbled.
He clamped his lips together and tried to puzzle it out. Something she needed? “If you’re referring to blood…” Surely Adaos had not given her the impression he would withhold the transfusions she required if she didn’t let him study her.
If he had, Dagon was certain it had been inadvertent.
“No, of course not,” she said, quick to defend the medic. “He’s been great about the transfusions. This was just a quid pro quo kind of thing.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“I told Adaos he could study me and I would share everything I know about the virus and my species with him if he would share something with me.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “And what might that be?”
Pink crept up her neck and filled her cheeks as she shuffled her feet, looking sheepish as srul, and muttered something he couldn’t hear.
“What?”
Emitting a growl of her own, she spoke louder. “Information on Segonian courtship rituals and the societal dos and don’ts that surround them.” She peeked up at him through long dark lashes as though trying to gauge his reaction.
Everything within him went still. “Segonian courtship rituals?” he repeated softly. “Why would you wish to know more about that?”
She sighed. “Because I couldn’t find anything about it in your informational databases, and I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time.”