to be anything but that. I can’t risk it; I’d be putting my girls’ lives at risk. No, trusting him is out of the question.
He moves around the table and comes to a stop in front of me. His glare burns into my scalp, but I don’t raise my eyes to meet his. His onyx black skin glistens in the low light.
It’s so dark I can see my reflection in his skin. I look like shit. Haggard, worn, stretched too thin with shoulders hunched from the weight. It might only be the way I feel, not the way I look. I hope so, anyway.
When I continue refusing to meet his gaze, he puts two fingers under my chin and lifts my head. There’s no denying the concern writ large on his face. Deep frown lines at the corners of his mouth, the wrinkle of his brow, and the compassion that burns as bright as a sun in his eyes.
“Talk to me,” he says. “Explain to me what you are trying to accomplish. Do you have a death wish? Is that what this is?”
“No,” I say, throat swelling with unexpressed emotions. I shake my head side to side as my eyes burn. I blink, then blink faster, trying to keep my shit together.
“What, then?” he asks.
Gritting my teeth, I choke down the storming emotions. The failures. The losses. How do I tell him that I can’t have one more loss? I’ve lost enough. This one damn time I want to win. I need to save them. Saying any of that and not giving away my plans is impossible.
My mind races for an answer, something safe, something he will understand. A light bulb goes off and I know exactly what to say. And it’s close enough to the truth that it won’t be hard to sell it.
“Honor,” I whisper.
His eyes widen, his frown deepens, and he inhales deeply as he lets go of my chin and takes a step back.
“I see,” he says. “These females were under your protection?”
“Yes,” I say, again true enough.
“You must not push Dominus,” he says, shaking his head. “It will not go well for you to continue testing his patience.”
My blood boils the moment he says it. Rage colors my vision and words rise with it, but I bite them off. My breath is quick as my heart races and I ball my hands into fists, but I clench my teeth and nod.
“Yes, Ductores,” I say through gritted teeth.
“You are a capable warrior,” he says. “You could be a primus in your own right. Do not waste your potential on a fool’s quest.”
I can’t force words past the hard ball of anger lodged in my throat, so I nod. Ductores studies my face for what feels like hours but I’m sure isn’t more than a few seconds. Finally he sighs and leaves, and the healer resumes his work.
“I’m going with you,” Adeline says, standing up.
“No,” I say.
Her face flushes as her eyes narrow. “No?”
“No,” I repeat.
“We’re not on the ship anymore, Captain. I don’t have to take orders from you any longer.”
A slap to the face would hurt less. Breathing rapidly through my nose, I close the distance between us.
“We may not be on the ship,” I say, my voice so low it surprises me too, “but we will maintain discipline.” She opens her mouth to argue, but I shove my finger in her face. “You will remain here to protect these girls.”
She snaps her mouth shut, closes her eyes for only a moment, then opens them and nods.
“Yes sir,” she says. She emphasizes the sir, but she’s back on track, so I ignore it.
The rest of the girls watch in a mixture of horror and wonder. They’re not marines or fighters. They don’t have the fire that Adeline has, so they’re not likely to argue. They shift and whisper, but no one speaks up.
“Look,” I say. “I have to get the others back, and I don’t think it’s going to happen if I don’t.”
“What about us?” Skylar asks.
Skylar is a brunette with a long face who looks perpetually sad, as if she lost her favorite puppy. She’s working with the house staff somewhere, but I’m not sure doing what.
“You’ll be fine,” I say. “Until I return, keep your heads down, do what you’re ordered, and wait.”
“And then?” Savannah asks.
I suppress the urge to roll my eyes and tell them to snap to. They’re not marines. They’re civvies. Scared civvies, at that. I’m trained for this, but