Frost Station Alpha 1-6: The Complete Series by Ruby Lionsdrake

course, he was unlikely to become attracted to the men.
    “Who are you people?” the woman asked. She was staring at Dornic’s tattoo. The fanged countenance of a tunnel wolf marked the left side of his face.
    “Send my message, and you’ll find out,” Makkon said.
    The lift stopped at Level Three, and she chose not to answer.
    “Comm station needs some repairs,” Dornic said. “Might have to wait.”
    The woman’s lips pinched together in what might have been a smile.
    “We found the grenades already,” Makkon said, watching her face. “Unless Brax managed to set them off.”
    “No, but he was putzing around with the computer, trying to keep a report from going out, and tripped something else. A few circuits burned.”
    The woman’s eyes widened, but she said nothing.
    Dornic hefted his toolbox. “I’m on my way.”
    “All right. Let me know when it’s fixed.” Makkon stuck his foot in the door. “This is where Zar’s putting the prisoners, right?”
    Dornic nodded. “Lounge at the end there. There’s only one door leading in. Easy to guard.”
    “Got it.”
    Though Makkon was tempted to take his prisoner up to the comm station and breathe down Dornic’s neck while he worked, he decided he had better check in and make sure no interrogations were going on. While he was there, maybe he could find a first-aid kit.
    “Out,” he told the woman.
    She complied silently. Scorch marks lined the walls of the corridor. He wasn’t sure whether his men had battled someone down here, or if the station had been attacked before. It’d had a larger complement of soldiers guarding it than his team had expected, and he still wasn’t sure they had found everyone.
    “You have a name?” Makkon asked as they walked.
    Most of their uniforms had surnames stitched on the chest, but she still wore a TacVest. He supposed he should remove that—he’d only been focused on weapons earlier—and then he could find out. He’d rather have her first name, but he would take anything.
    He got nothing, at least not from her lips.
    Since she hadn’t tried to escape for nearly three minutes, he lowered his hand from her neck and gripped her only by the back of the arm. She did not react, but even from the side, he could see the calculation glittering in her eyes. She’d probably already done the equation and decided she couldn’t come out on top with him, but he couldn’t guard her twenty-four hours a day. The rest of his people were as strong as he was, but assuming nobody had been killed, they still had only ten men. They would be spread thin watching all of their prisoners over the next several days. She might find an opportunity to slip away. And then what? Whoever was on guard would catch her and shoot her. He had to accept that might happen, but it left a sour taste in his mouth. He wasn’t sure why.
    Because you think she’s pretty and like the way she shot you, idiot.
    He snorted at the words from the all-too-frank back of his mind, loudly enough that she glanced at him. He decided not to mention that he was chatting with himself.
    Makkon stopped when they reached the lounge. A loud voice—someone giving a lecture about what would be done to anyone who tried to escape—seeped out through the closed door. He should have gone right in, but he stopped the woman and turned her to face him. There was nothing friendly or welcoming about her set jaw and cold glare, but he still found himself thinking inappropriate thoughts as they finally faced each other, only a few inches between their noses. Between their lips.
    In that moment, a thought occurred to him. What if he could make her sympathetic to his people’s mission, or, if not that, make her sympathetic to him ? Enough so that she wouldn’t make trouble, that she would work the comm station for the messages he would need to send back and forth to the government. Then he wouldn’t need to worry about her trying to shoot his men and escaping.
    Sounds nice. How’re