*First Draft

Still plastered to the wall, I can't keep my eyes off the bathroom door where Roman is taking a shower. The water continues to run and my hands are clenched at my sides.

It's a little more than frightening to think that Roman will be carrying the gun around while I'm defenseless.

Don't want you to hurt yourself, he had said. The gall of him! It wasn't like I was pointing it at my face or anything.

No, I've never held one before. Magna had them, but he had refused to teach me how to shoot. Now that I'm thinking about it, it doesn't make any sense. Wouldn't he have wanted to prepare me for this exact scenario?

Instead, I was always treated with kid's gloves. He was insistent on isolating me, keeping my experiences to a minimum. It was stifling, and completely against my nature and he knew it. I always suspected he wanted to keep me to himself, he thought I'd one day leave him. He was surly and unpleasant, but he worried about me and loved me. I know he did. I think he just liked being the only one.

It wasn't always easy for him. I snuck out a lot, often to the club. Shamefully, when Magna got sicker, I spent a lot of late nights there. When I was eighteen, I had my first boyfriend. Well, "boyfriend" seems like too generous of a word. He was a lot older than me, and he was only in Cerise for a week before he had to leave. He was...My stomach clenches thinking about it. So I stop, it doesn't matter anymore.

The water shuts off and I suck in a breath. The door handle jiggles and my eyes fight me. They want to look away, my whole body wants to look away, but I push through it. I can't be a coward.

When Roman comes out, my lungs shut down. Not from the repellent energy, but because he is in nothing but a towel. In fact, it's like the aversion has completely disappeared, and my eyes are glued. They don't want to look away.

He looks like a sculpted god. Spellbound, I trail his imposing shoulders, they bulge like the Cerisian dunes and I want to grasp them. His biceps are large and muscular and the golden skin of his chest glistens with drops of water.

What would he feel like beneath my fingers? Would his breathing deepen under my touch? The towel hangs low on his hips, but there is no mistaking that luscious v.

What the hell am I doing? Roman literally just murdered someone and I'm salivating over him like a desert mutt in heat.

When my eyes spring to his face, my mouth clamps shut. Roman's dark gaze is tracking mine. He knows I was checking him out. Shit.

"Clothes?" he asks huskily.

Clearing my throat, I nod my head toward the bathroom and answer, "The bottom drawer."

He shifts back inside and doesn't even bother shutting the door. When he returns he is wearing standard gray crew pants and a white tank that clings to his pecs and shows off his muscles. The rifle is lazily held under his arm.

I'm going to die on this ship.

And not from a bullet.

Swallowing, I blurt, "Are you going to carry that around and threaten me with it all day?"

Stunned, Roman glances toward the gun and then back at me. "I'm holding it. Not pointing it at you."

"It makes me uncomfortable."

He grunts and gives me a wide berth as he walks toward the cockpit and shuts the door.

I can't say this isn't familiar.

"Rule number one, no Jades allowed in the cockpit," I mutter under my breath.

Running my hands through my hair, I chastise myself for allowing my hormones to take over all my senses. Roman might be hot, but he's also dangerous. No good will come from thinking of him in any different way. The evidence of his ruthlessness is lying across from me, and I can't forget how he used me to do it.

My head turns to Ethan's lifeless body and my stomach churns. I can't stop the sinking feeling of guilt and heaviness. Did he have a family or people that cared about him? Violence is like dominoes; it doesn't just affect one person, it cascades.

I don't blame Roman for wanting him dead. Ethan treated him like a thing and not a person. He was my kidnapper but he at least let me eat his food and wander freely. Sometimes, I thought he felt guilty for taking me, especially when his eyes would drift to faraway places and he would storm away so he couldn't see my despair.

Sighing, I go and grab a sheet from a storage drawer. When I return to the body, an odd feeling of loss washes over me.

The feeling doesn't make any sense, I don't understand it, but there is no mistaking the swell of grief and emptiness that lands in my gut.

I'm sorry he is dead. I'm sorry for the people that will mourn him, but why does it feel like a limb was torn from my body?

Ethan's eyes are closed and he looks peaceful like he's sleeping. Trembling, I take the sheet and close my eyes. But it isn't Ethan's face I see in my mind, it is the bloody man in the woods. Gasping, my eyes flash open and the empty feeling is suddenly gone.

I'm going crazy.

Quickly, I drape the sheet over Ethan and flee to the kitchen. I fill up a cup of water and chug it down, letting the cold liquid ease my throat. What the hell is going on with me?

Needing a distraction, I start wiping down the already clean counters. I don't like being out here alone. My mind keeps drifting to the bloody man and to Ethan and to the fact that I have no agency at all. Men keep making all the decisions for me.

It's my life, damnit.

My legs twitch with restlessness.

Before, Roman was always there even if I wasn't right next to him. Now, he is pulling an Ethan and keeping me out. Resentment crashes into me like a sandstorm. They both shut me out.

To hell with rule number one! It was Ethan's rules anyway, and he's dead.

With a mind of their own, my feet storm toward the cockpit. When I reach for the handle, I hesitate. I hear a man yelling, but I can't quite make out the words.

I shouldn't interrupt, but the curiosity is killing me. Who could possibly talk to Roman like that?

Sucking in my fear, I pull open the door and I catch a glimpse of a severe-looking man with graying hair on the call screen shouting, "You vowed your loyalty! I took you in when-"

Suddenly, a hard body pushes into me and my feet land back outside the room. I shrink back when I see Roman glaring down at me with such rage that I sputter in panic. His eyes narrow at my reaction, and without so much as a word, he slams the door.

Immediately, my knees buckle and I fall to the floor. With a hand on my chest, I try to settle the wheezing sound coming out of me.

It is just the energy.

I'm not dying.

This isn't real.

Slowly, my body settles back into normal breathing patterns.

Maybe that wasn't the best idea to barge in on his argument. God, he was so angry, he looked like a beast ready to shred me apart. Who says he couldn't do it? I know now what Repellent is capable of.

Biting my lip, I try and listen in through the metal door and figure out what Roman doesn't want me to hear. It is silent now except for the buzzing from the lights and the hum of the engine. Frustrated, I wring my hands before I lift myself back to my feet, but as I do so, the door swings back open.

The repellent energy propels me backward, and I fly back to the wall in a fright. Looking down at my boots, I tremble uncontrollably. He is still in the doorframe watching me, I know it.

The panic starts to take over, and my body begins to shut down. Curling my arms into my stomach, I slide down the wall.

My lungs are like bricks, so heavy. I think I'm dying.

"Jade. Calm down. I'm not going to hurt you," Roman says gruffly.

"You..." I try to speak, but I can't. The words aren't ready to come out.

Air. I need the air.

Softening his voice, he says, "Jade. I'm not going to move. I won't touch you."

I nod and try to focus on his words. It sounds sincere. Fighting the crushing sensation, I suck in a breath.

"That's it, Jade. Breathe. I won't hurt you."

With another deep breath, I can feel the energy start to relax, and my heart starts to steady.

"Y-you lo-looked so-o mad."

"I wasn't mad at you."

He was angry at the man on the call. That makes sense. "You shoved me out and slammed the door."

My words are back to normal, I sigh in relief.

"Jade. I didn't want him to see you." Oh.

"You keep saying my name."

"You said it helped."

"It does," I agree, oddly touched by his attempt to soothe me. "So who was he?"

Roman hesitates before answering. "My boss."

"You have a boss?" Somehow it is hard for me to imagine Roman answering to anyone, let alone having a boss.

"Something like that."

I bite my lip. A picture of a villain from an Earth movie pops into my head. "Like a crime lord?"

Roman doesn't answer me. Maybe it was a dumb question, I mean, obviously Roman is into some shady things.

"Why was he yelling at you?"

Ignoring my question, he asks, "Are you okay now?"

I dare myself to sneak a peek at him.

He is on his haunches looking at me with a concerned expression. I can't help but melt a little. He is so rough and powerful with his black eyes and stern mouth. My feelings for him are like Cerisian music; one moment all is well until the off-kilter sounds knock me sideways.

My cheeks heat when I realize my "peek" has turned into a full-on salivating stare.

Clearing my throat, I say, "I'm fine now."

Roman pauses for a moment and his face twists into a broken plea. "I don't want you to be afraid of me," he confesses, his voice barely above a whisper.

My heart flutters. Shit, I can't be falling for this man. He's dangerous and a murderer, a wanted man. But...it's his soft admission and that show of weakness that makes me want to curl into him.

"Should I be?" I finally ask.

He sighs and rises. "Yes. But you don't ever have to be afraid of me hurting you. That, I'll never do."

He walks around me, giving me the most space possible, and heads toward the kitchenette. When I watch him go, I realize he no longer holds the gun.

I believe him. There is no way to know for sure, but I believe he would never physically harm me. But pain isn't always skin deep and I wonder what he could do to my heart.

A/N
Does anyone have any theories about what is going on with Jade's weird visions?