“Still hungry?” Dr. Harding asked.
“I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and I don’t even know how many calories I’ve burned since then.”
“Ah, the early training days.” She said the words without a hint of nostalgia.
“You sound glad to be done with those days,” I told her.
“Oh, you have the wrong idea there, dear… What’s your name?”
“Leda Pierce.”
Her eyes widened.
“I take it you’ve heard of me,” I said drily.
“Oh, yes.” Her mouth twisted into a delighted smile. “I most certainly have.” But before I could ask her what she’d heard about me, she continued, “You’re never done with training, Leda. Once a quarter, we all have to complete another training course. The Legion wants each and every one of their soldiers to be able to kill anything in their path without problem or pause.”
“Even the scientists?”
“Even the scientists.”
“Dr. Harding—”
“Oh, no, you simply must call me Nerissa. After what you’ve done…” She was grinning.
“What did I do?”
“You traveled across the Black Plains to rescue Nero Windstriker.”
“Oh, that.”
“Yes, that. You rescued an angel, dear. That’s not something people around here forget.” She leaned her elbows on the table, balancing her chin on her hands. “So, how was it?”
“Black and cloudy. The Black Plains have been scorched for two hundred years. Every living thing is touched by that magic. Even the trees are black.”
“No, not the Black Plains.” She gave her hand a dismissive wave, as though there were nothing interesting about a plain of monsters. “How was it being out there with Colonel Windstriker?”
“Uh, well, it was dangerous. And he told me off for coming after him.”
Nerissa chuckled softly. “Of course he did. But he must have appreciated it anyway.”
“If you call appreciation two hours of extra running every evening for a month.”
“To an angel, dear, that’s merely foreplay.”
I was stunned to silence.
“You train with him every day,” she continued.
“Where did you hear that?”
She shrugged. “Everyone is talking about it.”
“But no one even knows who I am,” I protested.
“They do now,” she said brightly. “Once Colonel Windstriker made his intentions clear, you became famous here.”
“What intentions?” I said, almost afraid to ask.
“His intentions to make you his lover, of course.”
Yep, I should have listened to my inner voice. It was right. I really didn’t want to know.
“I…uh…” I stuttered stupidly.
She smiled at me.
“That’s not what’s happening,” I told her, my cheeks flushed. “Nero is not trying to make me his lover.”
“Of course not, dear. Angels don’t try to make someone their lover. They just do it. So, did you go after him on the Black Plains because you thought that would pique his interest, or was that just a happy coincidence?”
“This is not a happy coincidence,” I muttered, trying to keep the growl out of my voice.
“Ah, so it was intentional.” She nodded, obviously missing my emphasis. “I thought so. As far as plans to catch his attention go, that’s the boldest one I’ve heard.”
“Why in heaven would anyone want to catch Nero’s attention?” I demanded. “Especially when the only way to catch his attention is to do something that will incur his wrath?”
“Well, it worked for you,” she said.
“Nothing worked. I rescued him because it was the right thing to do, not so that he’d sleep with me.”
“But that doesn’t mean you don’t want to sleep with him.”
“I…” My heart let out a heavy thump, betraying me.
Since Nerissa had the same amplified hearing as I did, she heard it too. “I thought so,” she said, smiling knowingly. “Don’t worry. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”
I looked around for an escape from this conversation, but there was none. The earth couldn’t even be bothered to open up beneath my feet and swallow me whole. Where was an impending apocalypse when you really needed one?
“But I think people know. Everyone is watching you,” she said. “You’re famous.”
Well, that was certainly the opposite of comforting. “Any chance my new-found fame can score me some more cookies?” I asked her, trying to divert the conversation away from this awful subject.
“If I give you some more, will you talk to Nero about my request for additional lab equipment?”
“I think you’ll have better luck talking to him yourself.”
“I already did. He called my request frivolous. But if his lover talked to him…”
“I am not his lover.”
“Give it a few weeks. Or days. Then you can bring forth my proposal. Bring it up when he’s in the throes of passion.” She grinned at me. “You’ll have better luck that way.”
I ground my teeth together. No cookies were worth this. The magic-analyzing machine took that moment to beep, thereby saving me from any further discussions with the doctor about Nero’s throes of passion.