He shifted to put his shoulder against the frame of the hatch, the gesture so casually powerful that Caledonia was struck again by the difference in him. Or the difference in her perception of him. He was self-possessed and confident in a way that communicated a quiet and deadly strength.

She liked it.

But Lir’s voice twisted through her mind, drawing questions close behind. She’d considered asking several times in the past few days, What have you done, Oran? She didn’t like that Lir knew more than she did, but she wasn’t ready. Not yet.

Oran’s gaze held steady. “You keep putting your crew ahead of you and you’ll get us all dead.”

The cup sat in his hand, the water clear and glistening within, not more than a single swallow. And she wanted it.

As she reached for the cup, her fingertips brushed his, landing for just a second longer than they should. They locked eyes again. She took the cup and drank. The water was a balm to her dry throat. It seemed that every bit of her body cried out with relief, and just as quickly she wanted more.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice raw.

He didn’t answer. He was watching her with that same mixture of wonder and admiration he’d had when they first met. Only now, she saw it with a difference. He understood power. He’d had his own, relinquished it, and now he’d willingly placed himself in her path. It was her power he admired.

“Stop,” she said.

“Only if it’s an order. Is it?”

She considered him for a moment. His arms were folded across his chest, and shadows caught in the planes of his shoulders, the lithe muscles of his arms. Though his eyes were intent on hers, it was that kiss she thought of, and her gaze slid to his pressed lips. Was it an order?

Caledonia needed strength right now, not distractions. She pressed a hand to his chest and pushed him firmly into the passageway.

“Yes,” she said. “And thank you.”

As she swung the hatch closed, he never moved, his eyes drinking her in until the last second.

Chapter Thirty-eight

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

“We’re out of water,” Pisces reported. “Last rations are being distributed now.”

It was the fourth day and everyone knew that they should have made land by now. The ship was slowing down, all systems pushed to their limits.

“‘Rations’ is a generous word for what we’ve been getting,” Pine nearly growled.

It’s keeping us alive, Hime snapped back.

Pine’s frustration grew. His eyes flicked to Pisces.

“It’s keeping us alive,” she repeated.

“Are we sure we can’t get more out of the engines?” Caledonia asked. The command crew was huddled on the quarterdeck where their words were obscured by the churn of the propellers.