Thandi realized Victor had had no idea anyone had entered with Ginny. Given the man's usual sensitivity to his environment, that alone was enough to make clear that he was immersed in a black depression.
He turned slightly. When his eyes fell on Thandi, they opened a bit. Then, narrowed. And then, within a second, he was staring back at the display.
"What is she doing here?" The words were spoken in a tone of voice just about as cold as the interstellar void shown on the screen.
Thandi felt herself shrivel, and started to turn away. But Ginny slapped her arm, as a mother might slap a child, stopping her in mid-turn. And then-to Thandi's utter amazement-marched over to Victor and gave him a gen-u-ine, down home, motherly box on the ears. No affectionate pat, either. This was a real whap!
Victor jerked with surprise, his hand flying up to the side of his face.
"Don't act the asshole around me," Ginny growled, her face tight and angry. "She's your guest because I told her she was. Make me a liar, Victor, and you can figure on using your ears for cauliflower soup."
She turned to Thandi and, in that lightning manner which Thandi still found hard to follow, was all sunshine and good cheer.
"Do come in," she cooed. "Victor is delighted to see you. Aren't you, Victor?" The last sentence was spoken through the same cheerful smile, but the temperature in the words plunged to somewhere not far above zero degrees Kelvin.
"Uh. Yeah, sure. Come in-uh, Lieutenant Palane."
Ginny raised her hand for another box on the ear. Victor hastily amended: "Thandi, I mean."
Hesitantly, Thandi took a few steps forward.
What the hell am I doing here? This is crazy! The man is furious with me-can't say I really blame him-and I ought to just-
"I'll be going then," announced Ginny brightly. "Now that the two of you are off to such a good start."
Matching deed to word, she walked past Thandi and was through the door-closing it behind her-before Thandi could think to protest.
She stared at Victor. He was staring back. After two or three seconds of that, Thandi jerked herself together.
To hell with it. To hell with him, for that matter. Pride and dignity, girl. Well… dignity, anyway.
"I apologized once, Victor. I'm not going to do it again. Take it or leave it."
His face was frozen for a moment, set in the same bleak expression it had held when she came in the room. Then, the expression faded into one of simple melancholy and he looked away.
"Never mind, Thandi. Apology accepted-and I should extend you an apology for being such a prick about it. I'm sorry. It's just…"
She could feel her warmth toward him coming back. Pouring back, more like.
"Yeah, I know. It's just that you wonder about it yourself." She moved over and perched on the wide armrest of a chair not far from him. "Think I don't? In order to get where I am today-which isn't really such a great place, anyway-I had to do a lot of things I'm not happy about. Some of them still make me a little sick, and all of it makes me wonder about myself. Wonder a lot, sometimes."
He nodded. Still, looking melancholy. Thandi realized that, whatever his other strengths, Victor Cachat wouldn't be very good at handling his own self-doubts. He'd ignore or deny them, most times, and positively wallow in them when he couldn't.
The knowledge warmed her up still further. Quite a bit further, in fact. In that constant self-analytical way of hers, Thandi was simultaneously able to recognize two things. First, she had a serious case of the hots for Victor Cachat. Serious. More so than anything she'd felt since her first boyfriend, long years before. Second, she thought she finally understood the reason for the attraction.
The realization made her chuckle, very throatily. That chuckle. The one which, like that smile, had a rather dazzling impact on men.
Victor was no exception. He was back to staring at her, but this time with an expression which had little resemblance to the barrenness of outer space.
"Leave it to me to save myself for a devil with a heart of gold," she murmured. "Kinky, kinky, kinky."
She rose from the armchair, almost lazily, and began unfastening her tunic.
"Why don't you give your demons a rest, Victor? We've all got demons, you know. What makes us human is how we handle them."
She was starting to come out of her clothing, moving as quickly as she always could when she wanted to. Her voice was husky, throaty-she'd made her decision and was letting the heat of it pour through her.
"So how about helping me with my demons, for the rest of the night? I'm willing to bet this suite has a huge bed. We'll need it."
He was very wide-eyed, now. His head was partly turned away, as if he was trying not to stare but… couldn't move his eyes, which had a life of their own.
Still, he tried to rally some humor. "I suppose resistance would be futile, huh? How could I stop you from ravishing me?"
She felt like magma; her boots finally off and the rest of it peeling away. Her laugh was huskier and throatier than her voice.
"As it happens, Victor, my inclinations run entirely the opposite direction."
She was completely nude. Two steps and she plucked him out of the chair like a baby. Then, carried him into the bedroom, dropped him on the bed, and more or less poured herself next to him.
"Pardon the role reversal," she gurgled, starting to run her hands over him. She didn't need to help him get out of his own clothing, since Victor was now handling that just about as fast as she'd done.
"Did it ever occur to you that a lady weightlifter might get sick of it?" she whispered, caressing and kissing. He was nude himself, within seconds. His body was hard and muscular, as she'd known it would be. Not as hard as hers, at any moment except this one. But in that moment, finally, she felt completely soft; more than she'd ever been able to feel in her life, and was reveling in it. Soft and open, almost boneless.
Her hand slid down and discovered, to her delight, that every part of Victor was exactly the opposite.
"Oh, God, yes," she hissed. "Just take me."
Chapter 31
By the time Oversteegen left their room, Ruth's face was drawn and haggard. An observer who didn't know the princess as well as Berry did would have assumed the distress resulted from Oversteegen's adamant refusal to agree to Ruth's proposal.
But Berry did know her friend-very well, by now-and was not surprised at all to see her burst into tears the moment the Manticoran captain closed the door behind him. Du Havel was obviously startled, but Berry had been expecting it.
Ruth was one of those people whose initial response to any situation is to act, doing whatever is needed right now. It was a valuable trait, in a crisis-Berry had it herself, if not to the extreme degree Ruth did-but also one which took its toll thereafter, because acting now, decisively, all too often required one to push one's emotions aside. A person could do that… for a time. But not forever. In the end, the price of decisiveness had to be paid, and that price could be high. Especially for someone like Ruth, who lacked Berry's capacity for self-analysis.
She put her arm around the princess and hugged her tightly. "S'okay, Ruth."
"It is not okay," Ruth half-sobbed. "I feel like such a traitor."
The word "traitor" seemed to burst the dam wide open. Ruth started sobbing uncontrollably, and her own arms slid around Berry, clutching her tightly. Almost desperately.
Berry caught a glimpse of Du Havel's face. The professor's expression had gone from surprise to understanding-ah, of course; she's finally reacting to the horrible bloodshed-to, once again, surprise and incomprehension.