Read Online Light of Kaska by Michelle O'Leary - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michelle O'Leary
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the seat and turned to face her. Her mouth was rounded in a silent gasp of dismay while she scrabbled for purchase.
“Hang on, stop swinging your arms around,” he said with a suppressed grin. He pushed off the consol and headed her way, catching the bulkhead and steadying her with the ease of long practice in zero G.
“It’s been a long time,” she said, voice a little breathless and eyes downcast. “And I never was very good at Z-grav.”
“It’s like riding a hawker. Once you learn, you never forget how.”
“Riding a what?” she asked, raising her gaze to his with a bemused frown.
“A hawker. You know, a hover sled. You get ‘em as a kid and smash ‘em into things until you figure out how to move with it…” He trailed off when she shook her head. “You never had a hawker?”
Her mouth curled on one side as if she was fighting a smile. “Don’t sound so scandalized. Kaska isn’t the biggest tech world in the galaxy, you know.”
“Yeah, but every kid should have a hawker. Damn, that’s just child abuse.”
Stryker was very aware that she hadn’t pulled away from him, her legs bumping into his while she drifted in the nil gravity. The conversation had distracted her from her fear and he wanted to keep her distracted as long as possible. He was enjoying her closeness, enjoying the amusement on her face. She was lovely in this light, or had he just not noticed how pretty she was before? And she still smelled inexplicably of sunshine. He had a sudden, strong urge to see a smile on her face, to hear her laugh and taste it on her lips.
Instead, she snorted and raised a hand to the bulkhead, turning her body in cautious experimentation. To his keen disappointment, she moved away from his grip. “So I was deprived as a child. Why do you do Z-grav anyway? Seems inconvenient.” She had that focused look on her face again, her actions careful but deliberate while she practiced moving around.
“You see any beds in this little cutter? Why get kinks and sores in those chairs when you can float through the night? You look like you’re dressed for an ice nebula,” he couldn’t resist commenting.
She had thick socks on her feet, flannel-like slacks and top, covered by the same heavy sweater she’d been wearing when she left her house. “Space travel makes me cold,” she answered in an absent tone, drifting further away from him.
Stryker followed, drawn to her for reasons he could not understand or explain. She wasn’t afraid. She smelled like sunshine. She’d put her hair up again. Her whole body was hidden except the nape of her neck and her hands. He remembered the feel of her fingers in his hair and took a deep breath, hungry in a way that was alien to him. With a disturbing amount of effort, he refrained from offering to warm her. “The wrap ought to keep you warm, if those bastards didn’t strip ‘em out of here.”
She cast a questioning look over her shoulder and seemed to notice how close he was. Her eyes widened and her whole body twitched. She turned a little too fast, losing control of her body axis in the process.
The fear was back.
Instead of assisting her, Stryker moved away with a casual kick to the hull, drifting across the small space to the other side of the ship. There he touched a camouflaged panel that disgorged a wealth of shimmering cloth. With sour satisfaction, he pulled the wraps free and stretched them out, anchoring the first to one side of the hull, then drifting across to anchor the second to the other side of the ship. Without looking at Sukeza, he said, “This stuff clings to itself, so you just wrap it around you and you’re good to go for the night.”
Following actions with words, he moved to the wrap furthest from her and secured it around himself. Touching the control panel close to him, he dimmed the lights and closed his eyes with grim determination. He needed the sleep, but he had a sinking feeling that his little passenger
“Hang on, stop swinging your arms around,” he said with a suppressed grin. He pushed off the consol and headed her way, catching the bulkhead and steadying her with the ease of long practice in zero G.
“It’s been a long time,” she said, voice a little breathless and eyes downcast. “And I never was very good at Z-grav.”
“It’s like riding a hawker. Once you learn, you never forget how.”
“Riding a what?” she asked, raising her gaze to his with a bemused frown.
“A hawker. You know, a hover sled. You get ‘em as a kid and smash ‘em into things until you figure out how to move with it…” He trailed off when she shook her head. “You never had a hawker?”
Her mouth curled on one side as if she was fighting a smile. “Don’t sound so scandalized. Kaska isn’t the biggest tech world in the galaxy, you know.”
“Yeah, but every kid should have a hawker. Damn, that’s just child abuse.”
Stryker was very aware that she hadn’t pulled away from him, her legs bumping into his while she drifted in the nil gravity. The conversation had distracted her from her fear and he wanted to keep her distracted as long as possible. He was enjoying her closeness, enjoying the amusement on her face. She was lovely in this light, or had he just not noticed how pretty she was before? And she still smelled inexplicably of sunshine. He had a sudden, strong urge to see a smile on her face, to hear her laugh and taste it on her lips.
Instead, she snorted and raised a hand to the bulkhead, turning her body in cautious experimentation. To his keen disappointment, she moved away from his grip. “So I was deprived as a child. Why do you do Z-grav anyway? Seems inconvenient.” She had that focused look on her face again, her actions careful but deliberate while she practiced moving around.
“You see any beds in this little cutter? Why get kinks and sores in those chairs when you can float through the night? You look like you’re dressed for an ice nebula,” he couldn’t resist commenting.
She had thick socks on her feet, flannel-like slacks and top, covered by the same heavy sweater she’d been wearing when she left her house. “Space travel makes me cold,” she answered in an absent tone, drifting further away from him.
Stryker followed, drawn to her for reasons he could not understand or explain. She wasn’t afraid. She smelled like sunshine. She’d put her hair up again. Her whole body was hidden except the nape of her neck and her hands. He remembered the feel of her fingers in his hair and took a deep breath, hungry in a way that was alien to him. With a disturbing amount of effort, he refrained from offering to warm her. “The wrap ought to keep you warm, if those bastards didn’t strip ‘em out of here.”
She cast a questioning look over her shoulder and seemed to notice how close he was. Her eyes widened and her whole body twitched. She turned a little too fast, losing control of her body axis in the process.
The fear was back.
Instead of assisting her, Stryker moved away with a casual kick to the hull, drifting across the small space to the other side of the ship. There he touched a camouflaged panel that disgorged a wealth of shimmering cloth. With sour satisfaction, he pulled the wraps free and stretched them out, anchoring the first to one side of the hull, then drifting across to anchor the second to the other side of the ship. Without looking at Sukeza, he said, “This stuff clings to itself, so you just wrap it around you and you’re good to go for the night.”
Following actions with words, he moved to the wrap furthest from her and secured it around himself. Touching the control panel close to him, he dimmed the lights and closed his eyes with grim determination. He needed the sleep, but he had a sinking feeling that his little passenger
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