Page 9 of Touch the Stars (Ghara Empire #1)

Kaitlyn.

H a. Some warrior he was.

She paused just inside her room and took a shaky breath.

Weakness invaded her limbs and her entire body shivered.

Had that damn alien really not noticed what she’d done?

She uncurled the fingers of her right hand.

The cylindrical, silver-metal device looked like the same thing Baatar had used to zap her. What’d he call it? A…blanker?

Not a manicotti noodle.

A small laugh bubbled out of her. It’d been so easy to lift it from the open-top case attached to his belt.

Eight years, and I’ve still got the touch.

Not that pickpocketing was a skill to be proud of, but her situation was desperate. There was no way she was going to some weird-ass planet and leaving Kris to a God-knew-what future. Fuck that.

Now, the next step in thwarting the plans a bunch of aliens had made for her was to figure out which was the business-end of the blanker.

She climbed onto the bed, settled cross-legged, then set the thing on the cover.

It was kind of pretty, with swirling darkened grooves etched in the pewter-color metal.

Even the half-inch band of smooth, rubber-like material around the middle had swirls.

As much a piece of art as a functioning weapon that knocked people on their asses.

Impressive for something barely three inches around and four inches long. Again, how had Baatar missed seeing the ends of it sticking out of her fist when she’d left the command center? He wasn’t an idiot, so she could only chalk it up to pure luck.

She gave the band a poke. It was soft and warm. With a little pressure, it gave like rubber. Clearly, it wasn’t there just to hold the thing together. So, why was this part different from the rest of it? Wait, was this the part Baatar pushed on to shoot her?

“The trigger? Clever.” She let the ‘r’ drag out a bit.

These aliens had all kinds of cool tech… Self-aware AI ship, semi-permeable doors, universal translator jewelry. Even the built-in dishwasher thing in the galley, which would be great in her condo.

She refocused on the blanker, then gave the band a quick, gentle squeeze between her thumb and forefinger. A soft buzz filled the air, and the left end of the baton glowed pale blue, like it had when Bataar had zapped her.

“Shit.” She squeezed again.

The buzz faded, and the glow disappeared. Huh. That worked. Cool. She tipped her head to one side to listen. No alarms seemed to be going off—not nearby, at least. So maybe the near-discharge of the blanker hadn’t been detected, even by the ship’s AI.

She breathed out a sigh, letting her tension escape. Now, she was officially armed and potentially dangerous, even if the latter was only in her own mind. She allowed a smile to reach her lips. Now all she needed was a plan.

A few hours and a short, refreshing nap later, she left her room in search of Baatar.

The corridor outside her room was filled with tantalizing spicy scents.

She swallowed the saliva pooling on her tongue.

For Baatar’s cooking, she’d be down with delaying her plan long enough to eat.

Which was a dick move on her part, but a girl couldn’t save herself and her sister on an empty stomach.

She set off down the sterile white corridor in the direction of the galley’s open archway. Baatar was busy at the stove, shaking pink flakes from a jar into a bubbling pot.

There was so much to appreciate about the man…

in the physical sense, at least. His economy of motion, the bare satin-brown skin on arms marked by a variety of old scars.

The almost peaceful smile of satisfaction as he focused on preparing their meal.

God damn, there was nothing in the world—or the universe—as sexy as a man cooking.

She let her gaze wander down to his long, muscular legs.

His pants looked like brushed suede…had felt like it too—

“I be nearly coming to wake you, Empress.” The English words, spoken in his deep voice, rolled over her like a warm summer breeze.

She jerked her gaze up to meet his. “You can speak English ?”

He grinned. “Little much.”

“You mean, not much?” What a lucky son of bitch to have eyes the color of cobalt.

“Is correct way to say, that?”

She gave him a nod.

“Then not much English speak me.”

Should she laugh or hug him? Or ignore it altogether because he was obviously trying to get her to like him. And if she liked him, she might not be able to do what she had to do.

“Hungry be you?”

“Very.” She slid into the same chair she’d used during their last meal.

His smile hadn’t dimmed a fraction of a watt, which was a good sign. As long as he believed she was starting to accept her situation, he’d be more likely to let his guard down. That’s when she would strike.

Besides, only an idiot would knock out the cook before the meal was ready.

“This is halunog , a meat dish from Undet.” He was back to speaking his native language through the translator, but that was okay. “It is a…robust dish.”

He placed a bowl of sauce-covered meat in front of her. Then sat across from her, his brows raised and concern flickering in his eyes.

“Like spicy hot?”

“Somewhat, yes.”

Guess he’d never heard of jalapenos. Hot was fine, unless it was ghost pepper hot. She pushed her lips into a pucker as that particular teenage memory bounced up from the depths where she’d buried it. How not to impress a cute dude.

She shoved the memory back down. “I’ll be fine.”

“Then let us eat.” He handed her a shadak/shagat set.

Ten minutes later, she wiped her eyes for the hundredth time. “Hot damn, that cleans out the sinuses.”

Not in the ghost pepper way, either.

Baatar frowned, and the two vertical lines of concern between his eyebrows deepened.

“That’s a good thing, Bataar. I swear.”

His expression relaxed into a pleased smile. “Then you are not suffering?”

“Nope.” Not in the way he meant, at least.

“I am glad you are well, Empress.” He rose and collected the bowls. “I must return to the command center to prepare.”

A flutter of panic danced in her gut and she straightened in her chair. “Prepare for what? Are we almost there?”

“No. Our journey will be another six to seven days.”

“Oh, okay.” Breathe normal. Don’t make him suspicious. “Can I come with you?”

Way to sound like a dumbass, air-head.

“I welcome your company, Empress.” He lowered the dishes through an open section of the counter’s surface into the sanitizer.

Mental note for later—figure out how to take one of those contraptions back home. Right now, though, that empress shit had to stop.

“Could you please call me Kaitlyn? At least for a little while longer.”

His frown came back, as if he didn’t like that idea. No surprise there, though.

Finally, he nodded. “Very well. Kaatlyn.”

The way he rolled all the syllables of her name sounded like another language. Sexy, in a way.

“Thanks, Baatar.” She gave him the best beaming smile she could.

“Even though you will be my empress, it is important there is respect and trust between us.”

“Yeah.” Not after she destroyed all that respect and trust. “You are so right.”

A pang of guilt stabbed at her heart, and she ruthlessly squashed it back down into the dark cave it’d shot out of.

“I only used your title to help ease your adjustment into your role.” He lowered the remaining cookware through the countertop, closed it up, then extended his hand. “Come.”

She reached out and slipped her hand into his. He curled his fingers around hers, enveloping it in warmth, then tugged her gently up from her seat. A shiver of electricity slid down her spine. If only things were different. If only he wasn’t trying to ruin her life with his so-called mission.

If only…

If only…

She couldn’t go there. Not if she wanted to take back her autonomy, rescue Kris, and go home.

She gave herself a mental shake and dug deep to plaster a bright smile on her face. “Lead the way.”

Let him think she was going along with his agenda, following him like a meek kitten, accepting this stupid role he was so determined to push on her.

As roomy as the ship seemed, the walk to the command center took barely fifteen seconds. She crossed into the room a half a step behind him, then pulled her hand free of his.

He turned to her. “Emp…Kaitlyn…?”

His beautiful eyes reflected a loss, like he regretted not having her hand in his anymore. Which was as crazy as her desire to grab his hand again. Could she even follow through on her plan?

I have to.

She took a step back, then three more. Far enough that he could not easily reach any part of her once he realized what she was up to. Because he would figure it out in three… She slid her hand into her pocket, grasped the blanker, then pulled it out.

He parted his lips and stared at the device. “Where did you…?”

Two…

Understanding rose in his eyes as he reached back and brushed his fingers over his holster…the empty holster.

One.

“I’m not leaving Kris.” She blinked against the sting of tears threatening her goal. There was no room for sentimentality now. “Sorry.”

He lunged forward as she gave the blanker’s control band a quick squeeze.

The blue light shot out like lightning, then crawled over him until it enveloped him before fizzling out.

It looked like he’d been frozen in mid-step, eyes open.

Accusing. Then his body wobbled, tilted, and crashed to the floor, his head smacking against the command chair with a dull thunk.

Ooh.

Hadn’t seen that one coming. She set her teeth together and cringed. She’d shot him. Shot another living, breathing person.

But I didn’t kill him…I think.

A small whimper escaped her, then she allowed the blanker to slide from her numb fingers. The clatter of it hitting the metal floor was far too loud in the room.

“Fuck me.”