Page 132 of A Flash of Golden Fire

Boone was sitting on his chair outside the captain’s cabin.

“Hello, Simon,” he said.

“Boone,” I replied and went into the captain’s rooms, slamming the door behind me, so hard that the thing bounced open.

“I’m very fine, thanks. You?” Boone said sarcastically.

“Piss off.”

“I’m going to tell the captain you were rude to me,” Boone said

“Do as you like.”

I tore off my jacket, mad now that the captain had used his stern voice to captivate me into doing as he said. I’d been having fun with Squid. The banter had reminded me of a more carefree time when I hadn’t known my powers were about to make a reappearance and turn me into more than theArrow’sanimal handler.

I sat in the chair because I knew better than to disobey Dinesh in his own chambers. But I crossed my arms over my chest and scowled. My feet were still bare, and he could go to hell about it.

I sat there fuming but also feeling desperately aroused, which made me even angrier. How dare he be so tempting and handsome and make me do things I didn’t want to do? Well, I actually did want to do most of the things he insisted upon, but sitting in this chair and waiting was not one of them.

Finally, I heard him speaking to Boone outside the closed door.

“Good luck with him. He’s in a mood,” Boone muttered.

“There’s nothing I like better.”

“You’re a strange one, Captain Martin.”

“You’re not the first person to say so.”

Boone laughed and the door pushed open.

“I am not in a mood,” I growled.

Captain Martin closed the door and stood there, staring at me whilst I glared at him.

“Simon White.”

I didn’t answer right away. He narrowed his eyes.

“What?” I said, not daring to defy him by remaining silent.

“Come here.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to kiss you.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Is this a trick?”

He moved toward me, slowly, like he was stalking a helpless animal. Which I wasn’t, but at the moment, I certainly felt like one.

“Do you think running about on the deck with no shoes on is a safe thing to do, Rooster?”

He was staring at my feet now with a hunger he generally reserved for my arse.

“Well, I don’t—”

“Yes, or no?”