Torran leaned in. “These are untraceable helmets and don’t have comms built in,” he said, his voice barely audible. “Communicating will be easier if I can speak to you telepathically. Will you allow it?”

I froze. The memory of our last interaction was still fresh in my mind. I had not handled myself well. I swallowed down my fear. “Will you be able to read my thoughts?”

“No, I will keep the touch very light. If you want to say something, tap me or make a noise, and I will listen more carefully. If we are separated, you will need to mentally shout to get my attention.”

Alarm slithered through me. “Are we going to be separated?”

“No. But it’s something you should know, just in case.”

“This is such a bad idea,” I muttered. Louder, I said, “Fine. I agree. Don’t break my trust.”

I felt the lightest brush of coolness against my mind, then Torran’s voice whispered directly into my head. “You have my word: your thoughts are your own.”

Goose bumps rose on my arms, and I shook off the strange feeling.

I tapped Torran, so he would listen, and the coolness came back a little stronger. “Are you sure this is the best vehicle?” I asked again. I asked the question aloud because I wasn’t quite comfortable with mental-only communication.

It seemingly worked, because Torran said, “This is the one that won’t be tracked.”

I shivered again and ducked inside. I swung a leg over the seat and sat in the passenger position, such as it was. As much as I wanted to fly the thing—and it was a very great deal indeed—I decided that whatever Torran had to show me took priority over a joyride.

For now.

Torran climbed in, and the narrow cabin immediately felt far more cramped. I moved back as much as I could while he swung his leg over the seat.

I tried to leave space between us, but he reached back and pulled me snug against his back. “The safety system is going to engage. Don’t be alarmed.”

Flexible clamps closed around my ankles, calves, and thighs. I could still move, but not much. Torran was similarly locked in.

“You can hold on to me, or there’s a handle under the seat,” he said. “We’re going to be traveling at speed, so pick whichever is more comfortable and secure.”

I tried the handle under my seat, but it did not feel secure at all, so I tentatively wrapped my arms around Torran’s waist. He pulled them tighter, until I could feel the firm press of his armor under my gloved fingertips.

All of the feelings I’d been trying to ignore came rushing back. We were pressed together about as tightly as two people could be, but I wished the armor wasn’t separating us. I liked Torran, despite everything that stood between us. That alone was enough for my body to get ideas about what we could do when pressed together like this—preferably sans clothes.