The Arrogant Genius (The Lost Planet 8)
His expression doesn’t change and I wonder if he ever shows any emotion other than disdain. Probably isn’t programmed for it. I cover my snigger behind my hand. Maybe I did need that pep talk from Lyric. Now is not the time to tease Avrell. We need to work together. When we’re done, I’ll antagonize him all I want.
“Obviously,” he drones.
“I’ll leave you two to work,” Lyric says and ignores my beseeching look. Traitor. She could at least supervise and make sure we don’t kill each other. So much for Lady Commander. “Be nice,” she mouths before the elevator doors close behind her.
Easy for her to say. She doesn’t have to spend the foreseeable future locked in close quarters with a man who makes her want to commit a homicide. Maybe I could inject him with a rogue vial of The Rades. It would be a total accident.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Avrell asks.
I bring my gaze back to him, ignoring how he adjusts his mask, which causes his tight alien-material shirt to slither across his skin like butter. I liked him better in the bulky outerwear gear he first arrived in. “Like what?”
“Like I’m a specimen beneath your magnascope. Except I can’t decide if you want to kill me or mate with me. Hmm...”
“How many times do I have to tell you I don’t want to mate with you for you to get it through your thick skull? Are you aliens super dense or something?”
“I possess above average intelligence for a mort.”
“That remains to be seen.”
“I can show you my aptitude tests, if you like.” I’ll bet he can. He and his big...brains. I bet he shows them to everyone.
“Okay, Mr. Know-It-All. No one cares. Let’s just get to work.”
He nods with his stupid head. “I’ve been ready. First I want to reassess the patients you have.”
You know, if it weren’t for the condescension in his tone, I wouldn’t have snapped back. “By all means. Let’s redo all my work. I won’t take it personally.”
“Good,” he says. “We have a lot to get done. We’re wasting time.”
He turns his back on me and I consider stabbing him in the jugular with my stylus. It’d be a somewhat painful death, but no less than he deserves. The prick.
I should probably stop fantasizing about ways to kill him.
Even I know we need him. Maybe after he makes a cure for this damn disease no one will notice if I sneak him away and feed him to one of those Big Birds up on the mountain. Except it would probably give them a stomachache.
“Are you listening?”
“Were you saying something important?”
“Everything I say is important.”
He makes it too easy. I know I have to focus, though, so I let the opportunity to insult him pass. There will be many more, I’m sure. “What were you saying?”
“I’d like to reevaluate all your patients for the progression of the disease. If we can map its life cycle, maybe we can target a weakness for the vaccine. I have equipment to synthesize potential treatments, but it’ll take some time.”
“I’ve sent you my notes?—”
“I’d like to see them in person.”
I grind my teeth together. “Fine. There are ten still in the Med-Bay isolation units. We can start there.”
It’d be easier if I didn’t like his demanding nature as much as I hated it. I’ve always been in conflict with authority figures. It’s what got me into so much trouble on Earth II. He orders me around the Med-Bay from patient to patient, shoving a tablet at me to take notes on his observations like I’m some sort of fucking secretary.
But if I were being honest with myself…
Maybe I like it a little bit.
Like the way his lips press together when he’s thinking too hard or when he rolls up the sleeves on his lab coat, showing off his forearms that are encased in his tight, protective suit that reveals every curve and vein. I never thought I had a forearm fetish, but Avrell’s make my mouth water.
If only the body weren’t attached to the brain, I wouldn’t be so against “mating” with him. I could use a bout of stress relief after all the shit I’ve been through.
“You know I could design a device for you.”
I pull myself back to reality. “A device?” I ask. Had I said that out loud? My cheeks burn. God, I hope not.
“For your concentration problems. Maybe a collar that sends out a jolt of electricity. That way, when you get distracted, it’ll provide sufficient inducement to stay on topic.”
“You want me to wear a shock collar?”
“Perhaps it would help keep your mind from wandering.”
“Why don’t we shove it up your ass instead? It must be better than the stick you already have up there.”
His brow furrows and his lips press together. Then he waves a hand. “As I was saying, this patient shows a much better resistance to the virus. Take a blood sample so we can analyze it.”