Kryton slammed back a shot of g’haut, welcoming the vicious burn as it slid down his throat. But Skyla’s taste lingered in his mouth. Not even the fiery liquor could wash away her tantalizing flavor or rid his mind of the sounds she’d made when release shuddered through her soft body.
“Still not going well?” Tonn’s amused tone drew Kryton’s attention to the doorway of his office. He wasn’t in the mood for company. Probably should have closed the door.
Rather than answer the irritating question, he held up the shot glass. “Want one?”
“Why not? I’m off duty for the next four hours.” Tonn sauntered into the small room and sat down in one of the chairs in front of Kryton’s desk.
“She’s irrational,” Kryton muttered as he retrieved a second glass from the bottom drawer of his desk. Then he filled both with the murky blue liquor and handed one to his lieutenant. “How am I supposed to combat complete irrationality?”
Tonn took the shot glass from him, but didn’t drink. “Maybe ‘combat’ is the wrong approach. Did you take any of my suggestions to heart?”
Kryton scooted his chair closer to the desk, drank the second shot, then slid his glass back and forth between his hands. “I tried. She won’t let me woo her.”
Tonn laughed then threw back the g’haut. “This I’ve got to hear. How did your captive keep you from being nice to her?”
Knowing g’haut had a tendency to sneak up on him, Kryton refilled the glasses then put the bottle away. “She keeps challenging me, even after I warned her not to.”
“So you, did what exactly?”
He glared at his friend. In his role as lieutenant, Tonn never would have asked such a personal question. They were definitely speaking as friends. “I’m not going to give you a blow by blow.”
“Not that every man on this ship isn’t already imagining it, but suit yourself.” He only took half the shot this time before he said, “You had me destroy her dress. Did you give her something else to wear?”
“Yes.”
“And have you fed her?”
“Of course,” Kryton snapped. “I’m not a complete idiot.”
“Have you given her something to do? She has to be frightened and bored. Not a constructive combination.”
“Her boredom works to my advantage. I want her to imagine what will happen the next time I return.”
Tonn shook his head, disapproval clearly written on his face. “Why continue with this pretense? Tell her why she’s really here and see if she—”
“I’m Rodyte, her sworn enemy. I’m playing the role she expects of me.”
Challenge arched Tonn’s brow as he stared back at Kryton. “You’re covered in her scent. Are you still playing a role? You’re being damn convincing.”
Kryton sighed. “Our compatibility is more of a challenge than I anticipated.”
“So tell her the truth.”
“I can’t risk it!” He paused for a deep breath, not wanting to take out his frustration on his best friend. “The chances of her offering to help me are basically nonexistent. However, I think she’ll barter for her freedom. But to agree to barter, she has to believe she’s my war bride, not a potential mate.”
“If you persist with this pretense, you’ll ruin any hope you have of claiming her as your mate. Is that a chance you’re willing to take?”
“Do you have a better idea?” he snapped, exasperated by the situation. He had two conflicting goals. Advancing one crippled the other, and each was vitally important to him. How in hells’ rings was he supposed to choose?
“A battle of wills cannot be won, my friend. She knows you won’t really hurt her.”
Kryton closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. His muscles were tense, his mind chaotic, and he ached as he had never ached. “Then what should I do?” He opened his eyes, more than ready for a different strategy. “Give me specifics.”