Free Handsome Devil by Ava Argent Page B

right by that inconvenient fact. “Like they were going to let you live after handing me over. I'm fairly certain that if your brother had put his name on the bounty, they wouldn't have messed with you. If he had, though, it would give Betty the heads up and she would just go after him instead. You've got me. The bounty has to go.” I wave my hand at the communications panel. “So call him.”
    M'anu slowly sits back in his chair, the plastic/leather/whatever material creaking under the redistribution of his weight. His gaze is pinned on me. I can't read his expression, but someone that cautious isn't exactly riding first class on the trust train. “You are very insistent.”
    I point at myself. “Thirty million. News doesn't travel as fast as I would like it. If you drop me off at the space station, I want to make sure I don't get stolen again. Send the message now and I might just have a chance.”
    He tenses more with every word. It reminds me of the last time I was on this clap chair. My skin starts to heat under the scrutiny. I really want to say something about that. Why the flip in his manner? Was it a temporary hormonal thing? Thrill of the chase? Undying attraction to my questionable beauty? I mean, I've got a mirror. I know I'm pretty in a cute, perky way. You've gotta love yourself before trusting someone else to love you. That doesn't mean anybody's declared “I must have you!” before.  
    Not that M'anu said it. Thank god. Too cheesy dramatic for me.
    Besides, who needs words when he's got that Grade-A no-holds-barred animal magnetism in his corner?
    He's doing it again, actually, leaning his head back on the headrest, studying me without blinking. He glances at my shoulder and a new light enters his eyes. Something that resembles pleasure, but there's too much pride to be sure. No idea what the pride part is about.
    I will not shift. I will not fidget. I will not adjust to accommodate the sudden warm spot between my legs. Easier said than done. This is unsettling. Whether I care what caused it or not, something about a silent Ferissian sets anybody's nerves on edge.  
    I clear my throat. “Anyway,” I say. Okay, croak. “You know what to do.” I shoot to my feet, the clap seat banging shut behind me, and turn away. Apparently it's too early to be hanging around M'anu just yet. Good god, he could set a girl's panties to 'melt' with that look. That's just all kinds of wrong. The drugs wore off; I've got nothing to fall back on. There's no pretending that everything is hunky dory when it's anything but.
    Stockholm Syndrome is not in this chick's vocabulary.
    “ Where are you going?” His voice is whip-crack sharp.
    “ Away.” Just to head off any nitpicking I add, “I'm going to get something to drink. And eat. I'm hungry.”
    “ Halt.”
    And what do I do? I halt. I screw up my face, disgusted with myself. What kind of dummy actually does that?
    He's standing. I've got my back to him, but I know that much. I could probably pick him out of a dark room with his eyes closed now. It's like my body has decided to go on hyper alert with him around. Now is not the time to fall into lust with someone. I'm not the bad boy fangirl some of my friends are. I don't sigh over the serial killer anti-heroes you find on some TV shows. I like the good guys, the second lead doctors and workmates that are too good to be true in real life.
    A baby brother warlord too pretty for words is not one of those guys. The alien part doesn't even figure into the equation given my heritage. He's complicated enough as it is.
    So why am I still frozen, waiting for him to stalk me like a jaguar eying me from a tree? I can almost feel his breath sweep over my shoulders
    And my lungs are choosing a really bad time to start acting up. Inhale at a natural pace, dammit .  
    “ I am pleased your shoulder is repaired.”
    Wow, he's close. “Thanks.” I manage to sound normal. “You did a good job.”
    Fingers ghost over the shoulder