The Arrogant Genius (The Lost Planet 8)

The good doctor may think poorly of everything I’ve done up until now, but I’ve saved lives here. Made a difference.

What has he done?

Him with his stupid lists and his stupid muscles. Why does a doctor have to be so ripped anyway? Weren’t they supposed to be soft and, I don’t know, nerdy looking? He’s a little less wild than the other morts, with his blunted teeth and cropped hair. But that doesn’t make him any less intimidating.

Not that I find him intimidating.

Infuriating, more like.

Standing at nearly seven feet with corded muscle, broad shoulders underneath pale, white skin, he should look like a hairless demon rat with his black eyes and pointed ears. It would be so much easier if he did. The morts themselves weren’t terrifying like I thought they’d be when Hadrian and Theron first pulled up in their ship. There are so many more things to be afraid of in this world, some germophobic aliens don’t even top my list.

I chew on the computer stylus, wishing it were Avrell’s stupid face. I was perfectly fine here until he’d been thrown into the mix. He could contract The Rades, but even I wouldn’t be so heartless as to wish that upon him. But maybe he could trip over his own massive feet and smash his face up a little.

Or better yet, he could trip and fall face first into my…

I cough and shake my head. Wrong, that’s wrong, Zoe.

“Who is stupid, hon?”

I hadn’t even heard Lyric walk into the infirmary. “No one,” I answer and toss the stylus onto the table with an indignant huff. “No one of any importance, anyway.”

Lyric lifts a brow. “Riiight. So that’s why you want him to catch The Rades?”

“I said that out loud?”

“More like yelled it.”

Pushing myself up from the seat, I begin to pace. “He’s just so—so infuriating! And bossy. I’ve never met anyone like him.”

Lyric leans against the control panel and pastes a patient smile on her face. “Maybe you two...conflict so much because you’re both incredibly alike?” she suggests.

My mouth drops open. “Me? Like him?”

No way in hell. If I’d come into this situation, I would have been grateful for any and all help provided. I wouldn’t list all the things people had done wrong or condescend to them about how to do it better. Most of all, I wouldn’t insinuate there was some sort of attraction between us.

Because there isn’t.

At all.

“You’re both very dedicated and direct. It’s no wonder you clash. I can only hope you’ll be able to put aside those conflicts and work together for the sake of everyone.”

“You don’t need to give me the pep talk, Lady Commander.” I manage not to roll my eyes at the title Hadrian gave her. He’s an all right mort, I guess, but the sweet, cutesy stuff isn’t for me. I never understood the whole romance shtick, and the thought of some alien making moon eyes at me makes my skin crawl.

Thankfully the only other mort available here at the prison is one I can barely stand to look at.

“When it comes to him, I do. You two are like bickering children ninety percent of the time.”

“I guess that makes you our mother, huh?”

“Sometimes, that’s how it feels herding everyone around.”

I glance up from the figures I’m running on the computer screen and notice for the first time the dark purple shadows under Lyric’s normally bright eyes. I’m not the only one struggling. Chagrined, my shoulders slump. I bite back the retort that comes to my lips about Avrell’s superiority complex and instead say, “You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t let him get under my skin so much. Finding the cure is more important.”

Her eyes crinkle as she grins. “See? That pep talk worked, didn’t it? Lady Commander for the win, bitch!”

Maybe it was the lack of sleep or the now maniacal gleam in her eyes, but I can’t stop the laughter from bubbling over. Slumping over the desk, I gasp for breath and clutch at my waist as my muscles burn for relief. It’s been so long since I laughed. Too long.

I wipe tears from my eyes once I’m able to catch my breath again and sit up, coming face-to-face with Avrell, who is decidedly not smiling from behind his protective mask. His muscled forearms are straining at the immaculate white lab coat he scrounged from god-only-knows-where and crossed over his chest. He looks every bit like the disappointed father. If he’d been my father, maybe I would have been a more obedient girl. Who am I kidding? Authoritative types make me want to ruffle their feathers a bit. I can’t help it.

I clear my throat and Lyric, sensing the change in the air, whirls around and puts a hand to her chest. “Sorry, Av. We didn’t hear you come in.”