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Bandar. No one would dare.
    This Drakken dared.
    Heat flared in her cheeks at the realization. Her reaction swung between hate, surprise and respect—hate for his kind, surprise that he recognized how society viewed the Drakken and respect for what appeared to be brash self-confidence moderated by self-awareness and intelligence, traits she didn’t expect from a Hordish barbarian. Murderers, all, but she was going to have to find a way to tolerate this one. For duty’s sake.
    For her career’s sake, she qualified. “Any ship can use a thorough go-over. One never knows what one will find that will require extensive repairs.” Zaafran had given her no way out. It was either work with Rorkken or sit with the Vengeance in dry dock, far from the front lines. The choice was clear. Rorkken. Dry dock would give her too much time to think.

CHAPTER THREE
    W HAT IN FREEPIN’ HEAVENS just happened? Finn blinked, shaking his head. That was one hell of an introduction. It felt as if he’d been stunned by a plasma grenade. First the woman acted as if she recognized him. Then came the pain. In a flash of a moment, a half breath, her soul had been exposed for him to see. His reaction had been visceral. The snap of physical attraction hit him hard.
    Finn couldn’t merge the woman who’d locked gazes with him with the reality of who she was. Stone-Heart. She was gods-be-damned Admiral Bandar, and all he wanted to do was freepin’ strip off that impeccable uniform of hers and put his hands on that sweet-as-sin body. “Hey, sweetheart, why don’t we get the hells out of here and find someplace to be alone?” That’s what he’d like to say. He could imagine how that would go over. This wasn’t a Borderlands drinking hole, and Bandar wasn’t just any female. He had to behave; he had to stop thinking of her as a woman, to stop thinking with his cock. To stop noticing her long, graceful neck, or the deep curve under her full lower lip that he wouldn’t mind suckling.
    To stop thinking about kissing her senseless.
    Good thing he hadn’t known what she looked like back in the old days, or he might have wanted to be caught. But it wasn’t the old days any longer, and his worries ran far deeper. The loyal band of men and women on his crew were depending on him to come through. As first officer on the Unity, he had a shot at bringing everyone serving on Finn’s Pride with him. He’d told them as much. He’d better hold up his end of the bargain.
    Then what were you thinkin’ telling the most infamous Coalition officer that you bathe in blood?
    It had been a gut reaction to her pain, compelling him to lighten the mood with a joke, to put her at ease, to see if he could make her smile. Her name might be synonymous with war, but Brit Bandar the woman had been badly hurt. Whoever was responsible for that hurt, she still loved.
    Finn had gone through life wringing humor from often-depressing circumstances—at times it was the only way he’d made it through with his sanity intact—but blast it all, he damn well knew when to be serious. This was one of those times. He needed this gig.
    Unfortunately, his remark fed into what Bandar already believed about him: he was a barbarian. Closed-off and haughty, she fixed him with a glare, wearing her hatred for the Drakken like a war medal. It was obvious she’d decided to pretend their initial reaction to each other had never happened.
    He’d play along. He’d play almost any game with the prospect of starvation staring him in the face.
    Nevertheless, he returned Bandar’s cold gaze without insolence and without fear. He’d survived this long relying on his gut. Those instincts now told him an apology would be a mistake.
    She’ll see it as weakness.
    “Please, let us eat.” Zaafran waved almost too eagerly in the direction of the dining table. It was clear the officer sensed tension between them.
    Turning on the heel of one flawlessly polished boot, Bandar glided after her superior.