He sat up and ran his hands through his hair, feeling like ten kinds of hell. He dressed quickly, put away the hovermattress, then ducked into the narrow hygiene bay to splash water on his face and relieve himself. It took a few minutes before his throbbing cock subsided enough so he could piss.

Reviewing evasive maneuvers and combat patterns helped distract him. After, he washed, and looked at himself in the mirror. A hard-faced man stared back, his mouth a tight line, tension vibrating through his shoulders.

When he emerged, a mug of steaming kahve was pressed into his hand. A fully-dressed Mara slipped past him into the hygiene bay, avoiding his gaze, but he saw enough to note she looked a little drawn, as if she’d spent an equally unsettled night. That didn’t make him feel any better.

He settled into the cockpit with his mug. A sip proved the kahve was dark and bitter, without sweetness. Exactly the way he liked it. Something he and the scavenger had in common. Including their shared preference for spicy food. He didn’t want to like her. That would be far more labyrinthine than simple lust.

Kell drank his kahve and stared at the nearing Ilden’s Lash. The alarm blared, indicating they were less than a solar hour away from reaching it. Red light filled the cockpit as the ship flew closer.

He studied the phenomenon. Few 8th Wing pilots ever got this near. He could examine it in greater depth, report back to command. The information could be useful for future operations.

“Forget it.” Mara slipped into the cockpit, also cradling a mug. She turned off the alarm. “If Ilden’s Lash doesn’t kill 8th Wing pilots, the thieving scum that live in the Smoke will finish the job.”

“You count yourself one of those scum?”

She grinned over the rim of her cup. “Absolutely.”

Kell couldn’t stop his own smile, especially when he saw how her grin made her appear playful,

mischievous as a girl.

“I didn’t think the Smoke Quadrant was that well patrolled.” He forced his gaze back to the display showing Ilden’s Lash. “Given that it’s full of thieving scum.”

“No one is more protective of their possessions than a thief. They know how easily things can be stolen.”

“Spoken from experience.”

“Lifetimes of it.” She spoke with the kind of worldliness Kell only heard from retired combat pilots but looked like she had not yet reached thirty solar years. Her eyes held knowledge, hard-won.

Her years had been full and difficult.

Not unlike his own.

He didn’t want to think about parallels between them, or anything else that might draw them toward one another. He was an 8th Wing officer, and duty meant everything. He held honor tightly, having had so little of it early in his life. To keep his mind on track now, he continued to stare at the display.

“Tell me more about Ilden’s Lash.”

“So you can make a report for the 8th Wing, like a good little soldier?”

“Because I want to know, damn it. I’m always hungry for more knowledge.” He remembered being a kid, finding discarded digitablets in the waste heaps and reading whatever had been downloaded onto them. Didn’t matter if they held instructions for repairing hydro-regulator systems or the best lunar low grav spas. Every bit of information was devoured.

Mara looked at him, contemplative. He held still under her perceptive scrutiny.

“Didn’t expect that,” she murmured, more to herself than him.

“Why would you? You’ve got the 8th Wing all figured out. We’re all the same.”

“Just like all scavengers are the same?”

He gave a rueful snort. “I call a draw.”

“Agreed.” This time, when they shared a smile, it was from a mutual, wry understanding. Neither of them was quite what the other had expected. She broke the connection first, turning back to the display. “Ilden’s Lash is what makes the Smoke so secure and how the Smoke came to be. It’s a band of protoplanets, some of them more solid than others. Even the more developed planets are still mostly magma.”

“So they’re constantly shifting and re-forming. Like one of those old-fashioned magma lanterns.”

Her laugh was low, husky—unexpectedly arousing. He suddenly imagined her sultry laugh as she tumbled across her bed, with him tumbling atop her.

“Think I remember my older brother having one of those,” she said, entirely unaware of his thoughts. “He used to smoke bindleweed and stare at it for hours.”

He tucked away the knowledge that she had an older brother as one might pocket a glimmering flake of zelenium. Each piece of information about her felt strangely precious.

“But that’s an apt analogy,” she continued. “Ilden’s Lash looks almost exactly like that, except you’d be incinerated if you just stood and stared at it. A passage through might look clear one moment, and in the next, it’s a wall of molten rock.”

“Unpredictable. That’s what keeps everyone out.”

“Except the scum.”

“Except the scum,” he echoed.

They both took sips of their kahve. Sitting with her in the small confines of the cockpit, both nursing their mugs—it felt intimate. He had sat in the base’s mess more times than he could remember, sharing the day’s first cup with other members of the squad. Even when it had been just him and one other person, male or female, discussing the latest briefing or plans for R & R, he hadn’t sensed the same kind of intimacy as he did now.

She must have sensed it, too, because she cleared her throat and shifted awkwardly in her seat.

“Just because there are some who know the Smoke and know Ilden’s Lash doesn’t mean it isn’t dangerous. Pilots die trying to make their way through, even ones who’ve taken the Lash a hundred times before.”

“Doesn’t sound like an even trade,” Kell mused. “Risking your life again and again just for a bit of privacy.”

“Two things, Commander. First, never underestimate a scavenger’s need for privacy. We spend our lives running from the law, constantly looking over our shoulders. Having a place that’s all our own is a gift.”

He mulled this, considering how it reflected on her needs. “And the second?”

She gave him another blood-heating smile. “Risk turns us scavengers on.”

“Us scavengers? Or you?”

“Yes to both.” She ran her finger around the rim of her mug. “But especially me.”

He fought a shudder of need. When he spoke, he was surprised how level his voice sounded,

instead of the growl he thought it would be. “You should consider becoming a fighter pilot.”

“A bunch of thrill seekers?”

“Worse than kids darting between laser trams.”

She shook her head. “And here I thought you 8th Wing types were all rule and regulation.”

“A lot are,” he admitted. “Couldn’t fight PRAXIS if there wasn’t discipline and order. But Black Wraith Squad—we’re the wild ones.”

Her gaze turned contemplative as she stared at him. “I like the sound of that.”

Kell seriously wondered if she was trying to kill him. Every word out of her mouth seemed laden with erotic promise. Deliberate or not, it played havoc with his willpower. He felt tightly wound, as if it had been two months and not two weeks since he’d last taken a woman to bed. It took him a moment to remember who that woman had been—a lieutenant from the Engineering Corps who’d been looking for a night’s release—but everything about that night vanished in the heat of Mara’s presence.

How the fuck was he supposed to get through this mission with his mind and reflexes intact? He had thought the danger would come from either PRAXIS or negotiating the Smoke Quadrant. Turned out that the biggest threat sat right beside him, in the form of a scavenger with wide-set eyes, silky white hair and a thirst for excitement.

It was a relief when the control panel blared, breaking the moment. Mara straightened and set her mug down at her feet.

“Better drain your cup, Commander,” she said, all business. “It’s about to get rough.”

He did so, and just in time. They had reached the outer perimeter of Ilden’s Lash. Giant, shifting masses of molten rock seethed and moved, and clots of partially-formed asteroids careened between them. A hunk of scrap metal drifted through the Lash. The moment it contacted a swell of magma, it incinerated.

Seeing Ilden’s Lash through the cockpit’s window sent a bolt of adrenalin through him. A normal person would be frightened. Kell grinned.

She caught his grin, and her eyes gleamed with anticipation.

“Let me fly us through.” He leaned forward, barely able to contain his excitement.

“Don’t trust my skills?”

“I want to take a shot at it.”

“Decelerate your thrusters, Frayne. This is my ship, and my run through the Lash.”

He growled his displeasure. Whenever he saw a challenge, he ached to conquer it. But unless he wanted to tie Mara down and wrest the controls from her, he was going to have to content himself with letting her do the work.

“I hate being a passenger,” he muttered.

“Me too.” She took the controls.

And then all arguments about who would and wouldn’t be piloting the ship disappeared as they breached the Lash.

Calm but focused, Mara angled the ship to swerve through a narrow opening between two protoplanets. The ship shot forward, then banked hard to port when a cluster of asteroids spun toward them. Three asteroids collided with one another, shattering into clouds of jagged debris. The ship shimmied with the force of the concussion.

“Having fun?” Mara shouted above the rattle of the hull.