Twenty-four hours later, I’m discharged from the hospital and escorted to my new room, which is identical to the last one. I’m on the same floor but in a different hallway; closer to Huxley’s office, which I surmise is done on purpose. At night, after brushing my teeth and changing into an oversize black tee shirt, I turn off the lights. Before I touch the bed, deep voices argue outside my door. Feet scuffle, and the quarrel grows importunate.

Fear strangles my throat. Panic shoots up my spine.

They’re back. The intribot wasn’t able to end me, so now the ringleaders are here in person to finish the job.

Pulling out my gun, I tip toe closer to the door. I unstrap my portal and call Timour, then the strangest thing occurs. A portal rings from the hallway, and the angry voices shut up.

No longer concerned with being sneaky, I march over to my door and fling it open, gun pointed at the men in front of me. Timour’s eyes widen as he holds his hands out, the portal now silent in his left one. Shifting my weapon’s aim to the two men with their backs to me, I ask, “What are you guys doing outside my door?”

The two unrecognizable Cosmics—one bulky and bald with hazel eyes, the other tall with tawny hair and steel gray eyes—turn around. They each carry a firearm, finger on the trigger, but muzzle pointing toward the ground. Remaining expressionless, the bulky Cosmic asks, “Where did you get that?”

“You didn’t answer my question,” I press.

While the two Cosmics share a look, Timour explains, “They’re claiming to be your bodyguards.” He approaches me cautiously with his palms slightly raised, as though he’s worried I’ll shoot him.

The tall Cosmic reaches out to stop Timour, and I aim my gun at his forehead. “Don’t touch him,” I order. He hesitates but eventually backs off. Once Timour is by my side, I whisper, “Why are you here?”

Blushing, he rubs the back of his neck and avoids my gaze. “I… didn’t feel comfortable leaving you alone. Especially not after what happened. But these guys were stationed outside your room, and they wouldn’t let me talk to you.”

“We can’t let him in there,” the bulky Cosmic states. “We’re not supposed to let anyone within five feet of this door.”

Perplexed, I query, “Who are you?”

“We already told the boy,” he says, impatient. “We’re your bodyguards.”

“Under whose authority?”

“Boss,” the Cosmics reply in unison.

Raising my eyebrows and keeping my gun trained on the tall Cosmic—while he looks less threatening than the bulky guard, his steely eyes tracking my every movement unnerve me—I dial a number with one hand and bring the portal to my ear.

Two seconds pass, then a sultry voice greets, “Mmm, Ailee, what a pleasant surprise. What brings you a-calling on this fine summer evening?”

“Why did you instruct two men to stalk me?” I ask. The bulky Cosmic narrows his eyes. The tall one doesn’t react.

“I don’t seem to recall,” Huxley alleges in a singsong voice, revealing that he most definitely does recall. “Describe them to me.”

“I’ll send you a picture,” I say and follow up on my assertion.

After a few seconds, Huxley confirms, “Ah, yes, now I remember. Valentino and Wolfe. They’re for your protection. Although, they look a little pissed off.” He laughs like it’s a joke I’m not in on. “They always look pissed off. Don’t let it bother you.”

I shake my head at his attempts to evade additional explanation. “I honestly couldn’t care less what they look like. Why—Is this necessary?”

“Earlier when I asked you to stay with me, my reasoning was completely legitimate,” he says, sober. “What happened yesterday really freaked me out. I—I thought you were going to die. Just… let me do this. If not for you, then for me. Put my mind at ease, okay?”

A sincere Huxley is an oxymoron that’s causing my head to ache. I sigh, unable to conjure a suitable response.

“Have they been disturbing you?” he inquires.

“No… but they’re a bit inconvenient.”

“In what way?” I hear the smile in his next words, “You rendezvousing with a secret love later tonight? It’s a little early in our relationship for you to cheat on me, don’t you think?”

“Who said we were in a relationship?”

“I did.”

“Right.” I roll my eyes. Typical. “Well, you’ve been very helpful. Goodnight.” He starts to object, and I hang up.

“Where did you obtain the gun?” the tall Cosmic wonders in a soft tone, shifting his feet, no doubt edgy I’m still pointing it at him. I lower my arm. He’s no longer a menace. At least, not much of one.

“Hux—I mean, Boss,” I stumble. Shock flickers across the guards’ faces, and even Timour looks surprised. “Which of you is Valentino?”

Silence stretches for a moment, then the bulky guard answers, “That would be me.”

“And you’re Wolfe?” I question, gesturing to the guard with steely eyes. He nods. I turn toward Timour and lift my hand in a shrug. “Looks like I’m all set, but thank you for checking up on me.”

He frowns, vocalizing, “Actually… I wanted to talk to you, if that’s alright.”

Taking a deep breath, I say, “Sure, we can talk. Come on.” I indicate for him to follow me as I open my door, but Wolfe steps in between us.

He stares down Timour, announcing, “We’re under direct orders from Boss—”

“Tell Boss I’m not interested,” Timour interrupts, moving around the gray-eyed guard.

Valentino aggressively places a hand on Timour’s chest, blocking his path and declaring, “You can’t go in there, man.”

“Valentino,” I address, and his hazel eyes meet mine. “It’s okay. Let him through.”

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He shakes his head. “I can’t.”

My back straightens. “Timour is my best friend. He would never hurt me. He is unarmed, and I have a gun. How long are you guys going to stand out here for?”

Wolfe replies, “Until zero-eight-hundred hours.”

I nod. “So, all night. If you hear something, you’ll come in anyway, correct?” Tentatively, the guards affirm. “Which means that this rule should only apply to unknown individuals and people I do not approve of. Otherwise, it’s unreasonable.”

“Our job isn’t to cross-examine Boss’ rules, we simply obey them,” Wolfe counters.

I sigh, exhaustion weighing down my shoulders. “Look, I’ve had a rough couple of days—a rough month in general. I trust Timour a thousand times more than I trust either of you. Therefore, if you don’t let him in, then my conclusion is that you were the ones who tried to slice my organs out yesterday.”

The guards open their mouths in denial.

I sigh again, pouting. “And then I’ll sadly be forced to inform Boss of my hypothesis.”

“But that’s a falsehood, girl,” Valentino argues. “We had nothing to do with your attack, and Boss knows this.”

“I wonder what the interrogation will be like. The truth serum must reveal a lot of things you would rather be kept secret…”

Wolfe’s eyes enlarge marginally, and Valentino steps aside, grumbling, “Fine, fine. He’s clear to go in—for tonight. But we hear so much as a squeal, and we’re entering the premises. You got that?”

I grin and grab Timour’s hand, pulling him inside. The last thing I see before the door closes is Wolfe’s forbidding scowl. I release Timour’s hand and sit on the bed, patting the spot next to me. Eyes locked on my bare legs, he’s motionless as a statue, standing by the doorway. “What’s wrong?” I ask, sliding off the bed, which causes my shirt to ride above my hips.

He smiles joylessly and turns toward the wall, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ailee.”

“What?” I look down at my lack of clothing and furrow my brows. “Are you a Starship Commander, or are you a prude?”

“I’m human,” he responds, refusing to look at me.

Sighing, I climb back onto the bed and position the lower half of my body under the duvet covers. “Better?”

He doesn’t move.

“Timour, better?” I question emphatically.

He peeks over his right shoulder and grimaces.

“Come here.” I pat the right side of the bed, and diffident, he joins me. I smile when he lays down, his form almost too long for the mattress, and stares up at the ceiling.

“I really don’t like him,” he begins.

“Who?”

“Boss,” he barely replies.

“I could tell,” I comment, remembering how hostile he acted toward Huxley in the hospital. “You scared me.”

His head rolls to the side, his ocean-blue eyes confused. “When?”

“When you attacked Boss.”

His expression darkens. “It wasn’t right, the way he was talking about you. It was disrespectful.”

“I’ve never seen you like that. I mean, I know you can get angry, but you were…” short-tempered, irascible.

He swallows. “I apologize for frightening you. But I’m not sorry I hit him. I’d kill him if there weren’t any consequences.”

I place my palm over his clenched fist, and he relaxes his hand enough for me to weave my fingers through his. “I don’t want you striking him again. He’s already threatened your execution.”

His jaw ticks. “And I don’t want you seeing him anymore.”

I tilt my head. “You know why I’m doing this.”

“He’s evil.”

“He’s an ass, but—”

Timour sits up so quickly I topple backward, his tight grip on my hand saving me from falling. “But what, Ailee? Have you forgotten they’re pirates? That they lie, steal, and murder?”

I can’t meet his disappointed gaze. “It’s more complicated than that.”

It’s silent for a full minute, and my skin crawls the longer he doesn’t speak. “Do you care for him?” he finally whispers.

Shaking my head, I reply, “Not enough for it to matter.”

“Is what he said true?”

The question itself is vague, but I instantly know what he’s referring to. Shifting down, I lay on my back and gaze at the ceiling. Now our positions are reversed, with him sitting up and staring down at my planar shape. I try to regain autonomy of my hand, but Timour reinforces his grasp. “Not that it’s any of your business,” I start, “but no. He was lying. Nothing happened.” Nothing worth repeating, anyhow.

Another minute elapses. “What if I want it to be my business?”

I study his authentic yet apprehensive features. “What are you asking?”

Smiling infinitesimally, he states, “You know what I’m asking. I’ve been pretty transparent about my intentions thus far.”

I roll onto my side and prop my head up using my right hand. Timour still possesses my left one, his proximity heating my skin. His hair is longer, the blond curls swept back and framing his strong jawline. I fully sit up so that I can reach out with my right hand and run my fingers through his loose curls. Closing his eyes, he leans forward and rests his forehead against mine. I smell apricots. “I’d rather wait to answer that question.”

He pulls back an inch, opening his big, gorgeous eyes. “Why?”

“We need to remain focused on returning to Earth. We can’t afford distractions.”

He smiles wryly. “A bit too late for that. I feel like I have tunnel vision whenever I’m around you.”

“My point exactly.”

Sighing, he straightens, pulling back a couple more inches. He raises our entwined hands, inspecting them sentimentally. “Your hands are cute.”

My mouth twitches. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, they’re tiny.”

“Thanks,” I mutter.

He laughs, a sound that bathes me in sunlight and numbs my muscles. For a second, I forget where I am. “No, no, look.” He holds his wrist out, palm up and facing me. I mimic his gesture, placing my palm flush against his. Grinning, he declares, “We look good together.”

I concur. The contrast between his large, warm, slightly calloused hand and my small, cool, delicate hand is endearing.

“Can I stay the night?” he asks.

My amber eyes snap to his blue ones. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I meant that I’ll sleep on the floor. I don’t trust the guards outside.”

“Me neither, but don’t be ridiculous. You can sleep on the bed as long as you keep your hands to yourself.”

He mock-salutes me. “Yes, ma’am. I wouldn’t dream of touching you.”

Sure he wouldn’t. “Uh-huh,” I tease him. While he may only be “human” by his own admission, I wouldn’t put my faith in anyone else to sleep next to me and not try something.

I rise briefly to close the lights, and when I settle under the covers on my side of the mattress, I have to restrain myself from extending an arm and touching Timour. From snuggling against his chest and allowing his limbs to wrap around me. Something tells me he wouldn’t mind. I generate an inquiry as a distraction, an inquiry that all of a sudden steals my oxygen, “What do you think Boss will do when he finds out you’re here?”

Several heartbeats later, he replies, “I don’t know. He’s probably too vain to give a damn. And I can’t really explain it… not to give the guy any credit…” Timour takes a deep breath. “You were unconscious at the time, but he was kind of a mess at the hospital. When we weren’t sure you were going to make it… he looked like how I felt, if that makes sense…” He turns my way, a silhouette in the dark. “I wouldn’t be here if he was going to punish you for it.”

“I’m not asking about myself.”

“I’ll be okay.”

His answer doesn’t satisfy me.