available on the carcases of the crashed ships that made up the solid body of the Anomaly was its glass walls the errocks found unnerving.
Wyck harbored no illusions. The captain used and tolerated the errocks—that didn’t mean he liked them or trusted them in any way.
Yet he had to make the captain trust him this one time.
“Captain!” He slammed his fist into the door once again. “It’s me, Wyck. I need to talk to you.”
The door slid aside a little, the gap not big enough for Wyck even to slid his hand through. He wasn’t planning to get in anyway, even if he’d been invited.
“I need a gun,” he blurted out as soon as Vrateus’s face came into view through the gap.
“No.”
Wyck wedged the toe of his boot into the gap, afraid the captain might shut the door in his face.
“You told me to protect Nadia, the human female,” he rushed out. “I need a real weapon to do it effectively.”
“Who is it, honey?” Svetlana’s voice cooed from somewhere deep in the room.
Her tone was warm and soft, the words swaddling Wyck’s heart like a fuzzy blanket. He knew she wasn’t talking to him, but that didn’t lessen the wonderful effect of the love in her voice.
“It’s Wyck, my treasure,” Vrateus replied softly over his shoulder. “Just give us a minute.” He slid the door open a little wider and slipped out into the corridor.
Suddenly, Wyck knew why he’d never honored the ancient tradition of his family and hadn’t killed Svetlana. This feeling between her and the captain that he’d sensed weeks ago had captured his curiosity. He’d never witnessed anything like that between a man and a woman. It was like a puzzle, an enticing mystery to him.
He’d let her live, while he’d watched them together, day after day, trying to decipher whatever this relationship was that they shared.
What he’d seen and heard had bred a new feeling inside him.
Envy?
He wondered how it would feel if he had someone to speak to him the way Svetlana did to Vrateus. He wished to have someone he could treasure, too.
Well, he did have someone he needed to protect like the dearest treasure there was.
“I’m not leaving here without a gun,” he said stubbornly, giving the captain a glare.
Vrateus folded his arms across his chest, leaning back against the closed doors.
“Whom are you going to use it against?”
“Against anyone who tries to hurt her,” he replied earnestly.
Vrateus gave him a long stare, and he firmly held it with his own.
Resentment rose inside his chest, heating up the anger he’d carried since the day of Nadia’s nearly tragic performance. Under the captain’s scrutiny, his temper rose higher with each passing second—Vrateus was the one who’d put her in the situation that had nearly led to a disaster last week.
“How do I know you won’t turn the weapon against me?” Vrateus asked calmly. “Like you did a few weeks ago, with Crux.”
That was a valid question. Vrateus had every right to be cautious. However, Wyck didn’t care about his precautions right now. The thin film of his composure broke, and the anger boiled over.
“You did this!” He grabbed handfuls of Vrateus’s pristine white shirt at the captain’s chest and shoved him against the wall near the door. “You threw Nadia to the crew to protect your own woman, didn’t you?”
Vrateus’s facial muscles barely twitched. With a sharp click, one of the guns he always carried on him slid out of his wide sleeve. The cold metal of the tip pressed against Wyck’s temple. “Cool your temper, Guard Leader,” the captain said slowly.
Wyck’s temper had caught on fire, though, even the cool metal of death at his head failed to stop him.
“You know that human women find it disgraceful and terrifying to undress in front of the hundreds of males here,” he gritted through his teeth, scowling into the themul’s face.
“I do.” The focus sharpened in the captain’s bright orange eyes, the vertical slits of his pupils narrowed. “But how did you learn about that?”
“I saw it last week,” Wyck seethed. “She was scared. She is outright panicking right now.”
“And you care?”
“Yes!” He gave the captain another shove, ready for a fight. Blood coursed hot in his veins, pumping his muscles with energy to punch and crush.
Shockingly, Vrateus lowered his gun in response.
“Good. That means I didn’t make a mistake by assigning you to her.”
The captain’s calm reaction left Wyck with no opponent. Confused, he relaxed his grip on Vrateus’s shirt.