Blood Will Tell by Christine Pope

went on, surveying the contents of the vault with a practiced eye. “Have you seen any?”
    Miala didn’t hesitate. After all, she’d spent enough time here that the compound was as familiar to her as her own home. “There are two in the garages, and another one down near the back gates.”
    “Good,” he said. “Why don’t you get the cart by the back gate, and I’ll bring in the two from the garage. It’ll take a few trips, but we should be able to get everything into the Fury .”
    Nice, friendly name for a ship , she thought, although she knew better than to say anything aloud. At least she was reassured that he had said “we” and didn’t appear to be planning to kill her any time soon.
    Of course , she thought wryly a while later, as they both returned with the carts and began loading the contents of the vaults onto them, there’s no point in him doing away with me now. He’d just have to do all this work by himself .
    It was soon evident that it would take far more than one trip with the carts to load everything. Thorn had seemed sanguine about being able to haul away the contents of all three vaults, but Miala found herself wondering just how much the cargo hold of his one smallish ship—a highly modified Eridani Vector-class—could really carry. But once they had deposited one load in the Fury ’s hold, it appeared there was still plenty of room left, and she trudged back down to the vaults with him, even as she wondered whether he was going to work her until she dropped from hunger or exhaustion.
    Miala tried to remember how many hours it had been since her meager breakfast. At least six or seven, which normally wouldn’t have been so bad, but moving the various crates and caskets was backbreaking work.
    “Thorn,” she said finally, after they were midway through the third load. “I have to stop for a while.”
    He deposited another crate on the cart closest to him. “Why?”
    She reached back to rub the part that ached the worst, right at the base of her spine. “Because, unlike you, I’m not some sort of machine! I’m starving, and my back is killing me!”
    “Your back,” he repeated, eyes narrowing slightly. He considered her for a moment, and Miala felt herself grow tense. Was this it, then? Would it be now, when she revealed her weakness, that he would decide she was of no further use to him and would rid himself of her once and for all?
    Still, she refused to let him see her fear. “Yes, my back!” she snapped. “I appreciate the need to get all this loaded on your ship, but we do need to take a break every once in a while. Besides, you wouldn’t have had any of this if it weren’t for me!”
    She had expected some sort of argument. Instead, he nodded and said, “True.” Then he took a step toward her. Then another.
    Not knowing what else to do, Miala stood her ground. He was close—so close she could practically sense the heat radiating off his body from his exertions. Slowly he reached out, his hand descending until he touched the small of her back. Then she could feel his strong fingers begin to knead at the aching muscles, as if he could dispel her exhaustion merely with his touch.
    Of all the ways she had dreamed of him touching her, this was one she had never considered. Still, she was afraid to protest, afraid to try to move away—and it did feel good, she had to admit to herself, especially when he brought down his other hand and began to rub her back in earnest, powerful fingers digging into her flesh.
    A small moan escaped Miala’s lips. Once she had let it out, she wished beyond anything that she could take it back, but the sensations rushing over her now were too strong, too unlike anything she had ever felt before.
    “Better?” Thorn asked, again with that quirk at the corner of his mouth. He paused, but kept his hands placed firmly against the small of her back.
    A wave of fury rushed over her then, and she opened her mouth to fling back some sarcastic