“Thank you—” It came out a cracked whisper, and he coughed to unlock his throat. “Thank you, that will be all, get your orders from Captain Thorne, you may all stand down.” They all strained to hear him, compelling him to repeat, “Dismissed!”

They broke up in disorder, or some order known only to themselves, for the bay was cleared of equipment with astonishing speed.

The monster sergeant lingered, looming over him. He locked his knees, to keep himself from sprinting from it—her… .

She lowered her voice. “Thanks for picking the Green Squad, Miles. I take it you’ve got us a real plum.”

More first names? “Captain Thorne will brief you en route. It’s … a challenging mission.” And this would be the sergeant in charge of it?

“Captain Quinn have the details, as usual?” She cocked a furry eyebrow at him.

“Captain Quinn … will not be coming on this mission.”

He swore her gold eyes widened, the pupil’s dilating. Her lips drew back baring her fangs further in what took him a terrifying moment to realize was a smile. In a weird way, it reminded him of the grin with which Thorne had greeted that same news.

She glanced up; the bay had emptied of other personnel. “Aah?” Her voice rumbled, like a purr. “Well, I’ll be your bodyguard any time, lover. Just give me the sign.”

What sign, what the hell—

She bent, her lips rippling, carmine clawed hand grasping his shoulder—he had a flashing vision of her tearing off his head, peeling, and eating him—then her mouth closed over his. His breath stopped, and his vision darkened, and he almost passed out before she straightened and gave him a puzzled, hurt look. “Miles, what’s the matter?”

That had been a kiss. Freaking gods. “Nothing,” he gasped. “I’ve … been ill. I probably shouldn’t have gotten up, but I had to inspect.”