After several strides down the corridor, he realized that Lyra was not following him. He glanced back.
Lyra was in the control cabin, her hand pressed to the emergency panel. As he watched, her hand closed on the lever. She was going to seal him out.
He sprinted back as the doors began to slide shut. Metal scraped over his body as he threw himself through the closing gap.
Lyra screamed—a sound of fury rather than fear—as he fell at her feet, entirely inside the cabin. The doors clacked shut behind him and the heavy thud of the emergency locks engaged.
“You can’t do this!” She snarled, stepping over his body. She dropped into the pilot’s chair and began pecking with fierce jabs at the instrumentation panel.
He hauled himself upright and joined her at the panel. She’d reset the coordinates to a location within human territory. The coordinates flashed red on the display, and the panel prompted her for the override authorization key. He’d been cleared for excursions into human territory, if strictly necessary in pursuing the traffickers, but there were multiple failsafes to prevent impulsive, unnecessary breaches of the human ban.
He hadn’t given Lyra the code. And he doubted she could read his people’s writing system.
She snarled, confirming his suspicions. She deleted out the coordinates and entered new ones—the merchant station he’d originally programmed for their flightpath. She’d memorized the coordinates of a station she’d never been to and hadn’t known existed. The acuity of her mind was stunning.
The ship allowed the coordinates and the panel gave a little blip, indicating its acceptance of the new flightpath.
She turned and looked up at Asier. “I have to go home.”
“I can’t let you. Not until I know for sure that you’re not carrying my son.”
“I’m not!” She exploded out of the chair and shoved at him. He was an immovable mass, and she succeeded only in shoving herself back into the chair.
She gripped the arm rests, steadying herself, and looked up at him. There was no warmth, no humor in her gaze. Those crystal-clear blue eyes had gone as flat and cold as ice. “There’s no way, Asier. The way the implant works—”
He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Humans are a compatible race. That’s all it takes for Scaeven conception.” He leaned over the instrument panel, and with one touch, restored the previous headings.
“You’re not listening!” Lyra grabbed his wrist, trying to pull his hand away from the panel. “If you would let me explain, you’d understand—” her words died in another furious snarl when she realized she lacked the strength the move his hand at all.
“It has to be this way, Lyra.”
“No it doesn’t!” She shoved out of the chair, putting as much distance between the two of them as the little control cabin allowed. “As soon as you turn your back, I’ll be back here, sealing myself in, resetting the coordinates.”
Asier looked down for a long moment, clenching his hands. “I assumed you would.” He pushed out of the chair, regretting what he had to do before it was even done. He crossed the small space to where Lyra was pressed against the bulkhead.
“What are you doing?” She slid along the wall, towards the sealed door.
“What I have to,” Asier said, his voice heavy with the crushing pain in his heart. He scooped her up in his arms.
“Asier!” She fought like a scalded cat, kicking and squirming and flailing. But she was small and weak. He was a powerful, looming monster. He overpowered her easily. Keeping her squirming body clutched tightly to his, he unsealed the doors, carried her to the medbay, and tossed her on the bed in the quarantine cell.
Before she was back on her feet, he had her sealed in. He set the quarantine for the remainder of their flight time.
“Asier!” She screamed his name until the sound of it warped in his ears, a hot needle in his skull. Her little fists pounded on the glass.
He stood back and let her fury wash over him. He deserved every bit of her wrath. But when he looked into those wide blue eyes, it wasn’t wrath he saw reflected back at him. It was hurt. Confusion. Fear.
“Please. Please, Asier. Let me out.”
Seeing her like this tore him apart more keenly than her anger could have. He couldn’t bear to look at what he’d done. He turned away.
“Asier.”
He walked out.
“Asier!”
Lyra stared at him through the glass.
The strong, honest, noble Scaeven who’d carried her on his back so that she could sleep, who’d fought an acid-spitting, coyote-sized spider for her, who’d trusted her enough to turn his back on those spiders while she shot them down, who’d taught her to fly his ship, and who’d broken through the powerful drugging hypnosis of their sexual chemistry to save her life—he was betraying her.
Hot tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision.
Chapter Fourteen
She stopped eating. She stopped talking. She stopped… being.
When Asier came into the medbay to check on her, she was always in the same spot—sitting on the floor, wedged into the corner, her knees drawn up to her chest. She stared blindly at the floor in front of her. When Asier spoke, she did not respond. She didn’t look up, she didn’t flinch. She was a statue.
“Lyra,” he said, his throat almost too tight to speak. “Please eat something.”
Five zeitraums worth of rations sat in front of her, untouched. She hadn’t had water, either. With another fifty zeitraums before they reached his home planet, there was plenty of time for her to die of dehydration. If she kept this up for much longer, he’d have to sedate her and put her on a fluid drip.
Lyra sat like a statue, staring at the door. At first, Asier had stayed in the medbay with her, trying to get her to talk, to eat, the drink. He left only briefly to respond to the ship’s needs, or his own, and then he was back, pleading with her to come back to life.
His pleas eventually tapered into brooding frowns. When he left the medbay, he stayed away for longer and longer. Eventually, he was gone most of the time, and visited only to check on her vitals.
She could tell he didn’t want to leave—that he was doing what he thought she wanted. Even after taking her prisoner, he was so fucking solicitous. He was destroying her life, and somehow managing to look like a kicked puppy while doing it.
Overhead, the reverse airflow system’s large vent silently purged the quarantine cell. A subtle draft coursed over Lyra’s skin, fluttering the hem and the sleeves of the shirt she’d taken from Asier’s closet.
She glanced up at the vent, wishing she could turn the damn thing off, then looked back out at the medbay. Still no Asier.
A minute passed.
Lyra stiffened. She looked back up at the vent. She looked for a long time.
When the shame of his cowardice grew too strong to ignore, Asier forced himself out of the control cabin and back to the medbay to check on Lyra.
Perhaps the time apart had allowed her to come to terms with what he was doing. Maybe she’d be calm enough that he could explain. If she’d listen, he’d promise her everything in his power to deliver—everything except her freedom.