Page 26 of Aliens Love Curves

The word 'feelings' hits like a physical blow. "This isn't about feelings. It's about your safety."

"No," she says softly, "it's about trust. Do you trust me to do my job, Stryker? To make my own decisions?"

I want to argue, to tell her that trust isn't the issue. That the thought of her getting closer to Harlan makes me want to tear something apart. That the kiss we shared in the simulator meant more than any mission.

Instead, I force myself to step back. "You're right. I'm sorry. Tell me more about the medical equipment."

Her expression softens slightly. "That's more like it, partner.

I hesitate before I speak, but my innards are turning inside out. "What you said earlier... Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Believe it? About me being suffocating, controlling?" My voice roughens. "About being done with... whatever this is between us?"

She softens, reaching up to touch my face. "Stryker... you're not suffocating. You're protective. Sometimes frustratingly so. But right now, I need you to trust me more than you need to protect me."

I lean into her touch despite myself. "I do trust you. It's him I don't trust."

"Good." She smiles slightly. "Then trust that I can handle him. That I know what I'm doing."

I catch her hand before she can withdraw it, pressing my lips to her palm like I did earlier. "Just... be careful. The way he looks at you..."

"Is exactly what we need," she finishes, but her pulse jumps at my touch. "Now, do you want to hear about this medical equipment, or do you want to keep worrying about my virtue?"

I force myself to step back, to focus on the mission and nod.

As she describes what she saw, I try to focus on the details, the implications. Not on how the evening light plays across her skin, or how the memory of our kiss still burns in my veins.

I'm an enforcer. She's my partner. The mission has to come first.

But later, lying on the couch, all I can think about is Harlan's words about her bed being warmer than I think. About the way she felt in my arms in the simulator. About how this pretense of pushing me away might become reality. Listening to her breathing as she sleeps, I can't help but wonder: when did protecting her heart become as important as protecting her life?

Sleep eludes me, my mind a tangle of duty and desire, protection and trust, what's real and what's pretend. My mind replays her words at dinner. They were just for show, part of the mission. So why do they feel like truth? I'm no longer sure which I fear more – losing Casey to Harlan's schemes, or losing her to our own deceptions.

Chapter 13 - Casey

"Remarkable performance," Harlan purrs as I climb out of the prototype's cockpit, his hand appearing to help me down. His touch lingers longer than necessary, fingers trailing along my arm. "You handle her like she was made for you."

I force myself to lean into the contact slightly, fighting the instinct to pull away. "The responsiveness is incredible. Those modifications to the stabilizers really make a difference."

From across the hangar, I catch Stryker's quick glance our way before he returns to his conversation with the chief engineer. His tail gives a single, sharp twitch – the only sign that he's noticed Harlan's proximity.

"Speaking of responsiveness..." Harlan steps closer, his cerise skin gleaming under the hangar lights. "I love how intuitive you are with the controls. The way you anticipate every shift, every nuance." His hand settles on my lower back, warm through my flight suit. "Most pilots fight the glider. You...become one with it."

Heat creeps up my neck, only partly feigned. "I try to work with the machine, not against it."

"Mmm." His fingers trace small circles against my spine. "I'd love to show you the race circuit. Give you a...private tour."

My pulse quickens, but not with attraction, my attraction for Harlan fizzled out the moment I realised something sinister is going on behind the scenes here. I bite my lower lip in contemplation, Harlan’s gold eyes watch my mouth like a predator stalking its prey. This is the opening we've been waiting for – access to more restricted areas. Still, I can't help glancing at Stryker.

He's fully facing us now, his conversation forgotten. Even from this distance, I can see the tension in his shoulders, the rigid set of his tail.

"I'd like that," I tell Harlan, letting a hint of breathiness enter my voice. "When?"

"No time like the present." His smile is predatory, triumphant. "Unless you have other commitments?" He glances Stryker’s way.

"None at all," I shrug. The words feel like betrayal, even though they're part of the mission.