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Its scent was rich with smoked oak and a whisper of spice and floral notes.

A drink meant to be savored, not rushed.

Fokk, he needed it.

Earlier, the IniMoabite’s thrashing had destroyed and reduced his surgical wing to a disaster zone, a battlefield of shattered shards, torn walls, and wrecked equipment.

It had taken hours to clean up the mess and restart the procedure.

After readjusting the autobot’s woefully underestimated anesthetic protocols for a nine-foot-tall Iccythrian titan, the Rider finished the op in a more secure lockup.

He’d double-checked the IniMoabite restraints, made of the highest synth alloy grade possible that the 3D processors on board managed to fashion.

The Rider left the improvised theater hours later.

As he left, he gave the nurses precise directions. ‘Summon me the second the leviathan is lucid and breathes free.’

Now, the colossus snored in the ship’s brig, oblivious to the world, his cancer a distant memory.

Still, the incident gave the ship plenty to discuss, and Ki’Remi snagged snippets from the crew in the bar as they shared the most salacious bits of the episode.

However, the most interesting fact to him was the woman who’d waylaid the giant and knocked him out.

All freakin’ day Ki’Remi restrained himself from asking his colleagues about his unexpected helper.

In a seat at the bar across from him, Dr. Alain Solano, Head of Emergency Medicine, swirled his drink and eyed the Sableman.

With a look that suggested he was still figuring out what kind of man the new Head of Surgery was.

Ki’Remi wasn’t paying him much heed because, just then, his meta-perception discerned an energy shift close by.

His eyes canted to the other end of the bar, where a shock of golden curls bounced, set off by the bar’s soft illumination in a shimmer almost like starlight.

Twas her.

His soul lurched.

She perched on the edge of a stool, glass in hand, and her body angled as she conversed with a cluster of medics.

Whatever was being said had them laughing, but her poise remained effortless, a confidence in her bearing that suggested she was used to commanding attention, even if she pretended otherwise.

Her head tilted back in levity, the movement sending those wild curls cascading over one shoulder, gleaming like liquid gold in the dim light.

As if she sensed him watching her, her gaze slid sideways and locked onto his.

Ki’Remi’s grip on his glass tightened, but he kept his expression impassive as they stared at each other across the room.

He discerned a challenge.

A flicker of amusement.

A silent acknowledgment of the other.

His heart jack-hammered because, damn, the woman’s eyes were like a nebula of scarlet, golds, and greens.

Like stars in astral conflagration.

The most stunning set he’d ever seen.