“Zora, this is ridiculous.” Murray sighed and thumped something against the panel—maybe her head. “You can’t stay in here for the whole flight.”
“Wanna bet?” She leaned over and opened the storage panel beside her cot. The stash of food looked a lot bigger before take-off, but then, she’d snacked pretty much non-stop since finding Ignatius in their kitchen. She counted the cartons and rolled her eyes. “I’ve got enough food stashed in here to feed three people for a week.” She’d be able to polish it off in three days, but Murray didn’t know that, did she?
“Let me in, Zor.”
“Why?”
“We need to talk.”
“It’s funny you should say that, Mur, since you haven’t talked to me about any of your little plans up to this point. Why start now?”
“Fine, Zora. You want to stay in here alone and pout, go ahead.”
Footsteps rang in reverse as Murray abandoned her effort. Good. Fine. She reached around the bed for another projectile, just for sport, and found a solitary pink slipper. The puffy fabric made a poor excuse for a missile, but she winged it anyway. The slipper slapped against the door, sounding pathetic even to her ears, and the whole room leaned abruptly to one side.
“What the hell?” Zora stood up and stumbled around the bed. Her room jumped again, this time of its own accord, and she heard the far off zing of lasers firing. “Son of a bitch.”
The next lurch carried her to the door, and she hit the control panel and fell out into the hallway beyond. The craft steadied long enough for a shudder of metal to ripple through it, and then listed sharply in the other direction. Battle. That was definitely and evasive maneuver.
She was the worst mother in the galaxy.
One of her hands wrapped around her middle on reflex, like somehow she could shelter her womb from ship to ship combat. What had she done? Bringing her unborn child into space? Hell, the man she’d been running from ended up in their galley anyway. She’d have been safer in more ways than one with her feet and her belly firmly on the ground.
She fought a wave of panic and slid down the hall. Her free hand against the nearest wall steadied her progress, and she kept her feet through three more hull impacts before reaching the junction that led to the bridge in one direction and the galley and cargo bays in the other.
She looked back and frowned. He might still be down there, but someone really should check on the eggs. She looked to the front. Of course, he could have gone to the bridge by now too. Damn it.
Zora growled and stomped her foot. The ship leapt forward, and she lost her wall, tripped backwards and landed against the corner of the hallway. The baby fluttered in her stomach, protesting the sudden movement. Real fear drove her feet now. She stepped into the branch and started toward the bridge.
Another dive sent her back three steps. The lights faded to auxiliary power. Both her arms flailed for something to grab onto. Her fingertips brushed a wall, but it jumped away as they dodged another round of fire. Zora wobbled. The floor rang with stamping feet, but she couldn’t see the wall beside her let alone get turned in the right direction.
The baby moved again, and she bit back a scream. What if the hull were breached? What if they didn’t make it? She pressed her eyes shut and tried to think of something to pray to.
“Zora?” The footsteps stopped.
“Help!”
His hands found her shoulders. One arm slid under her arms and helped her back to her feet. She leaned into Ignatius the First and bit back a terrified whimper.
“Zora, are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” The ship shook again, and she pressed against him.
“It’s okay.” He drew her closer and wrapped both arms around her back. “What’s happened?”
“I don’t know.” She inhaled, couldn’t help it. She hadn’t forgotten how good he smelled for a second. “I think someone’s shooting at us.”
“It would appear so.” One of his hands shifted. His fingers found her hair and curled against her shoulder.
“I—I was worried about the eggs.” She closed her eyes and remembered why he felt so good. She remembered exactly how his hands moved, exactly how they fit together.
“I just came from there.” His voice held a familiar edge, low and intense.
Zora imagined his lips forming the words. She leaned up to the faint outline of his face and remembered how it felt to kiss him. The outline dipped in her direction, and she held her breath, waited for it. Instead, light flooded the hallways. They froze for a second. Both staring and far too close to doing something she’d gone through hell to avoid.
The hum of power returning buzzed through the floor underfoot. The lights reached full power, and Ignatius didn’t loosen his grip on her even a fraction. For Zora’s part, she found her arms quite inexplicably wound around his neck. When had that happened?
He blinked once and tilted his head almost imperceptibly to the side. A question lingered in his eyes. Every part of her wanted to answer it. Every part except her conscience—the one she’d never even known she possessed before him. She dropped her arms to her side and looked directly at his chest.
“I’m really confused,” he whispered.
“I know.” She almost looked up, but the movement in her belly set her resolve. “So am I.”
“It’s okay, Zora.”
She shook her head. Her throat closed around a flood of emotion. She sniffed. He never hesitated, Emperor Ignatius. He took her in his arms again, this time gently, innocently, and let her sob into his chest. He was confused. Hell, she damn near couldn’t tell which way was up anymore.
This close to him she couldn’t be sure of anything. Not her choices or her future or her damned conscience. She’d never survive with him on board, not with her plan intact. The clone Emperor would be the death of her. That is, if they weren’t blown up or shot down first.
Either way, it would prove to be one hell of a trip.
Next Episode ◦
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