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“You knew that already, princess.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Well, that is what you are. The bride of a colony heir. Can’t get any more of a princess than that around here.”
“We’re not married yet.”
Orion scoffed. “Save the fight for the bedroom, will you? We both know you can't back out now. Where will you go?”
“Home!” she spat.
“On what ship? You’re here. You’re in this now. And you agreed to it.”
Kaia sipped her water in that slow, meticulous way she went about consuming anything. Like it was going to be her last meal.
He was bluffing a little. His mother would jump at the opportunity to send Kaia back to wherever she came from. She'd made that much clear to him hours ago, when he dug his heels in and insisted that he’d raze the whole fucking ship to the ground unless he got to choose his own bride.
Mare Halena saw right through him, of course. She knew this wasn’t about Kaia. Not really. And when earlier that night she’d paraded out the very capable, very fertile, very willing options she’d prepared for him, Orion almost questioned his own stubbornness.
Luckily, his resentment for the position foisted on him was stronger than the whims of his dick.
He realized the retort he’d been expecting from Kaia hadn’t yet come. She sat there, looking tired and pallid.
“I… I feel sick.”
Fucking hell.
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, princess.”
“No,” she groaned, pushing herself up. He noticed a fresh sheen of sweat on her forehead. “I mean I’m gonna…”
“Shit.” Orion jumped off the bed. “Come on.”
He hauled her up by the arm, taking her weight as they stumbled into her bathroom. She lurched for the toilet basin, hands perched on either side. Orion grimaced as her back began heaving. He didn't see, but heard whatever was in her system splatter over the ceramic.
“Shit,” he repeated. It must have been too much for her—the fries, the water, all washed down by caffeine. Her stomach wasn’t used to it. He plied her with all that shit and didn’t warn her.
At least Orion knew a thing or two about fixing women he’d broken. He knelt on his heels behind her. His hand found her spine, protruding as she hunched. He rubbed up and down those bony parts of her.
“That's good,” he muttered. “Get it all out.”
“Go away. Don’t…” She was interrupted by another splatter. “Don’t fucking look.”
“I’m not looking, princess.”
He fixed his eyes instead to the nape of her neck, brushing hair from skin prickling with goosebumps. He stroked across the plane there, soft and slow.
By the sounds of it, she was mostly puking water. How much had she had? H2O onColossalwas purer than the crap on Riker 109. That of all things shouldn’t have made her this sick.
A few minutes later she was done, and Orion pulled her limp form up to the sink, where she splashed her face and gargled the shit out of the tooth powder he’d gotten out of the nook under the sink.
Finally she was back in bed, lashes crusted with tears and lids drooping with exhaustion. She was staring at nothing in particular, skin pasty and eyes unfocused.
Orion wasn’t about to drag her to his suite after that. He was about to leave her be when she trained those distant eyes on him.
“You’re right.”
“What?”
